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Innocents and their murders

Summary:

Jack has been home for a few months now and yet he feels like he left something on that island he’ll never get back

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Jack had arrived back in England only months ago. The boys had been allowed to take a leave from school for a few months, mainly due to the hospital requiring them to be of utmost carefulness before walking into public spaces. You know, with the fear of them having some foreign disease or something. But since none of them were really hurt in anyway, of course Jack spent most of the time helping his father with manly duties. Whatever his father needed he’d be at his beck and call.

But today he was back at school, it was as exciting as it was miserable. Seeing everyone after months of being apart was wonderful, everyone seemed to be doing well. Jack had greeted most of the boys on his walk back to his dorm. Laughing for the first time in a while.

Yet, in the back of his mind he questioned what’d they’d told their parents. He figured Roger had told his parents all about it, considering that the time on the island almost seemed like a dream come true for him. It’s likely however most of the others didn’t say much, if they did they were to young to be believed. When asked, he chose to not say anything much, pretend it’d been so horrible he couldn’t talk about it. Which, wasn’t fully a lie. As much as he’d like to pretend it was.

As he approached his door, he froze reading the names plastered next to it. “Jack.M and Simon.C” Jack felt himself wanting to puke.

He’s managed to avoid Simon as a concept for the most part. He remembers the last time he was forced to think of him was when the police had brought him in to view the body. Which made Jack realize that’s how they found them. But Simon wasn’t Simon anymore…he was so cold and so angry. A version of Simon Jack rarely saw but a version he had sadly gotten accustomed to. One he dreamed of as the last memories he had. He was asked to come in because Simon’s parents hadn’t showed, not even his mother who Jack had heard many stories of. Neither of them. Just him, Jack. The one person in his life who…cared.

He remembers the police officer apologizing for him having to see his friend’s body. But telling him they needed to know if it was or wasn’t. He remembers the feeling of a firm hand yet a gentle one on his back as he entered the room. He nodded a simple yes once he saw the body before walking out and holding it together until he broke down in the mirror later that night. Covering his mouth to silence his cries in the fear of anyone hearing.

But now here it was, his and Simon’s space. One that held so many silent moments. Ones never spoke of after they happened.

Jack felt himself shaking as he turned the knob, not sure what this would bring out in him.

He quickly slipped inside, slamming the door behind him and refusing to turn around to glance at the room. He knew it’d be a time capsule, Simon’s parents very unlikely came to pick any of his stuff up. Jack took a deep breath and turned around, his eyes quickly falling to Simon’s side of the room.

Simons side of the room was considerably more alive. A stuffed bear he’d received as a baby sat upon the pillows, stacks of books fictional and non, a couple paintings of birds he’d hung and a map of the world, something he’d silently noticed Simon stare at. Almost like if he pinned his eyes to one place he could stay there forever. He frequently would talk about London. How badly he craved to stay there forever. Jack found it odd for Simon to want to be in such a large city but he wondered if it had to do with the whole “in a big city, even surrounded by people, your still alone” idea. Yet he never asked.

Jack felt his face contort as tears threatened to fall but he fought it. His side was considerably weaker, simple and plain. He was okay with it because he could look at Simon’s side but now he hates it. He hates the plainness of it all. It reminds him much of the plainness of his life he hates. One that used to be filled.

Things go smoothly for the rest of the night, Jack manages to unpack before bolting out of his room towards the library. Avoiding his and Simon’s corner like the plague. He joins the school for dinner, feeling all chummy with everyone again, and then runs around the halls after curfew like they used to do.

Jack feels happy for the first time in months as he walks into his dorm, barely even noticing Simon’s stuff. He gets ready to head to bed, brushing his teeth in the sink, brushing out his curls and gently lying down in bed. He reaches onto his nightstand to turn off the light when his hand light grazed something else.

A book. Hardcover. He immediately fought between the idea of just shutting off the light and picking up the book before the secondary ultimately won. Gentle, he leads it over to his face. “The adventures of huckleberry Finn” lay across the cover, a boy on a raft and an older man sat next to him as he rows. Jack immediately felt tears prick in his eyes as he held the book close to his chest. He felt a cry crash through him as he gripped the book. He quietly turned to his side, allowing himself to cry.