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The camp’s rock wall was located just off to the mess hall, creating a barrier between where they ate and the nearby river. It smelt faintly of sunscreen, pine trees and bug spray. Chatter and harnesses being attached were the sounds that filled the air— “Let’s go, Jack!” Yelled Maurice supportively. “‘Atta boy!”— But not before a certain brunette’s cheering.
Jack tightened his grip on the red hold, casting a quick experimental glance down. He noticed the way Maurice was hitting Roger’s arm, pointing up at him with excitement.
Roger didn’t pay him any mind, eyes locked on Jack. He smirked when the taller blond met his gaze, making Jack gulp and return his attention back up to the bell he was aiming for. An indicator to say he’d done it.
He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath in. He had to calm down. He couldn’t let the others see the worry he felt within. That would be so humiliating. Would they even want to be his friends anymore? Surely not.
Not that he valued their relationships immensely. He barely knew them, having only met them a week ago due to their cabin assignments. They were roughly his age, about 14, and cool enough. There was also someone named Bill, who was currently the one working the harness and guiding him.
He’d have preferred Roger as his spotter. The boy was stronger and able to hold a deeper span of attention, purely out of his loyalty for him. Would Bill even notice if the harness unclipped?
The blond bit his lip, glancing to the side where another camper was catching up. A self-righteous, egotistical moron named Ralph, or, at least that was Jack’s interpretation on him. They’d started off as friends, though grew distant after a stupid argument about teams for catch the flag.
“Are you okay, Jack!?” Called Maurice, worry evident in his voice.
“I’m fine!” He snapped back.
Though the way he hesitated was obvious.
“Maybe you should come down now!” The brunette offered. “You basically did it anyways!”
Jack considered this. “You’re right!” He agreed eventually, nodding more to himself than anyone. “I don’t need to ring the stupid bell to prove myself! You can all see I’m here!” He wavered. “Right!?”
The green eyed boy nodded quickly. “Yes!” Maurice insisted, looking towards Roger for his confirmation as well.
“Yes, I agree!” Exclaimed Roger.
Bill’s hands fumbled with the harness strap, pulling it slightly. “Okay! I’ll start guiding you down now, Jack!”
“No!” He shouted way too quick, face flushing a slight pink from embarrassment.
He didn’t want to do the easier way. He disliked the lack of care in just gliding down, no hands on the holds. It felt unsafe. Bill would kill him! What if the harness was mistakenly unclipped?
“No,” he restarted, clearing his voice. “I’ll just—you can guide me slowly, I’m going to just use the holds as I go down.”
“That takes a lot of coordination for me,” spoke Bill.
Jack ignored him, bringing his hand down lower to a blue hold anyways. His foot found purchase on a purple one, nearly slipping off. He bit back a gasp.
He began making his way down the rock wall the same way he’d come up, while Ralph, who’d already rung the bell, let some boy named Simon pull the harness downwards, allowing him to drop with a practiced ease.
At some point he began hesitating again, not realizing how close he was to the ground. Jack put on a brave face, feigning the act that he was just calculating something in his head, rather than grappling with the nerves of falling to his death despite being secured.
Maurice’s cheering faltered, but Jack barely noticed.
“I’ve got him,” muttered Roger.
The shorter blond strolled over until his hand touched a blue hold. His Nike shoes, which were covered in dirt, lifted to settle on red and orange ones.
“Roger!” Hissed Bill, looking around with wide eyes. “You can’t do that without a harness! The counselors made that very clear!”
“He’s right there,” deadpanned Roger, nodding his head up at Jack who was only a few holds away. “I’ll be fine.”
After some climbing, he reached a position where his hand was only centimeters from Jack’s foot.
Not yet noticing the other’s presence, the golden blond let his foot linger in the air in an attempt to find somewhere to put it. Then someone grabbed it.
Jack whipped his head down, brows furrowed in confusion.
Roger was right below him, looking up at him with a polite smile that never quite reached his eyes. “Jack,” he began, hand coming up to wrap around his ankle. He guided his foot to a nearby hold, “there’s a good foot hold here,” he explained. He then tapped another spot, “and here,” he said, “is a good spot for your left.”
Jack, not thinking, moved the foot Roger had already guided.
“That’s your right,” explained the dirty blond.
Jack cursed internally at himself, so humiliating.
Roger came up to hold his ankle again, and for a slight second, the look in his eyes went dark.
He couldn’t help but think what would happen if suddenly twisted it. The sudden crack it would make as it snapped, the look of fear and betrayal that would find its way onto Jack’s pretty face. The way he could easily play it off as an accident.
He’d be able to nurse the boy back to health for the rest of camp, saying to the counselors that he felt so guilty for his mistake that he’d rather stay in their cabin to help him than join the camp’s activities. He’d have Jack all to himself for the last week. Maybe he’d even be codependent on him. No more Maurice spending all day glued to his boy’s side. The brunette would only get to see the golden blond in between activities and at night.
His grip tightened.
Jack hissed in pain, trying to kick the hand away. “Mgh!”
Noticing what he was doing, Roger quickly released his hold. It was only a mere thought. Something he would have no problem doing, but wouldn’t, for it wasn’t logical. Surely someone would see the way he cracked it, and Jack could be sensitive. He may refuse contact at all after that, whether an accident or not.
“Sorry, Jack,” apologized the shorter. “Just a bad position, that’s all.”
The boy relaxed once the pain left his ankle.
“Just here,” Roger guided, tapping a hold for Jack to follow.
He did.
“Good job, you’re almost there.”
Roger led him down, occasionally touching his foot when Jack’s obstruction of view was blocked by the other’s body, unable to see where his friend was pointing.
“You’re doing well, Jack.” He praised, making the taller one feel warm inside.
Finally, they reached the last drop.
“Put your foot her—”
“I know!” Snapped Jack, the embarrassment of needing help catching up with him now that reality was setting in.
They finally reached the grass again, Roger hopping down and stepping back. “Well done, Jack.”
Bill’s hands moved to unbuckle the harness, but Jack batted them away to do it himself.
Roger smirked at this.
The curly haired blond swaggered over, hands shoved into the pockets of his shorts. He stopped in front of his two friends.
His eyes met Roger’s. “Thanks.” He said simply.
The boy nodded as a form of saying ‘you’re welcome.’
“You were amazing, Jack! Really! You were so cool!” Maurice gushed, making Jack smile smugly.
Roger watched the interaction with a certain intensity.
Maybe it wasn’t Jack he had to hurt to keep. Maybe he had to take out the problem straight on. Leave Maurice stuck in the cabin.
“Maurice,” interrupted the dirty blond.
“Yeah?”
“Want to go next?” He offered, gesturing to the rock wall. “I can guide you like I did for Jack.”
“Sure!” Maurice agreed excitedly, rushing over to put on his harness.
Roger redirected his gaze to Jack. “He’s right, you were amazing…and you looked really good too.”
He saw the way the boy’s breath hitched.
Roger put a hand on Jack’s shoulder, firmly grasping it before walking away to leave him with the comment.
He directed a menacing squint at the weird camper from the cabin beside theirs as he did so. Simon quickly looked away. Good, their conversation, or warning, from the night before about Jack must’ve worked.
Jogging to catch up with Maurice, he yelled a quick “hey! Let me help you get strapped in,” and was already calculating a way to mess with the security of it in a way that would look accidental, but also wouldn’t kill him. Just injure him.
If it did murder him though, Roger was pretty sure he could live with that.