Chapter Text
Ralph woke to Simon’s warm breath against his neck, cheek pressed to his collarbone, hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt. Simon was curled up on him like a sleeping cat. The last thing Ralph wanted to do was move him, but the morning bell had rang and if they didn’t start getting ready matron would come in and see them doing… whatever it is they were doing.
“Simon,” Ralph gently shook his shoulder. He stirred, but instead of opening his eyes he only nuzzled closer and made a sleepy little noise. Ralph couldn’t help but smile. “Hey, wake up.”
Simon finally opened his eyes, blinking. “It’s morning?”
“Yes,” Ralph gave him a squeeze. “We need to get up.”
“Oh, alright.”
They reluctantly left Ralph’s warm bed and began to dress, picking up their uniforms off the floor and comparing shirt sizes to see who each one belonged to. Somehow, it wasn’t awkward.
Ralph thought back to the night before, the kissing and the way Simon had touched him so softly. According to the teachers, the priests and the other boys at school, it was not right for two boys to love each other the way men and women love each other. But when Simon’s lips touched his, it had felt so right, like the missing piece of a puzzle finally found.
He’d tried liking girls before. His looks and more importantly the wealth of his family made him a popular suitor, and his parents were constantly setting up meetings with girls his age or arranging dates for him to bring to dances. Most of the girls were pretty. Some of them were very nice and interesting, others were not his cup of tea. No girl had ever made his heart pound the way Simon had.
Ralph had noticed Simon from the beginning of the year. Simon was bullied for the way he looked, among other things, but Ralph couldn’t think why. In his eyes, Simon was the prettiest person on earth. He had brown skin that looked as soft as rose petals and, as Ralph found out the day before, felt like them too. His hair was unusually long for a boy, dark and shiny — Ralph hoped he’d have a chance to sink his fingers into it later — and his eyes always looked like they were taking everything in.
He hadn’t recognised his fascination as anything romantic at first. He thought he wanted to be Simon’s friend, and made a special effort to make the boy feel included. He could tell that Simon wasn’t used to being shown even the smallest amount of kindness by the way he looked around whenever Ralph spoke to him, making sure he was really talking to him and not somebody behind him. This made Ralph want to be his friend even more.
He hadn’t realised what his admiration for the smaller, quieter boy had grown into until moments before the kiss, in fact. Everything clicked into place when he wrapped an arm around him and realised he wanted to be so much closer than that. He wanted to feel all of Simon tucked against him, aware of his every breath and movement.
Nobody could find out. His father loved him a lot, but even his love had its limits. Ralph shuddered to think of how he would react if he knew that his only son was involved with another boy. His mother would cry. His headmaster would suspend him, or even expel him. His classmates would make his life a living hell, and they’d torture Simon even more than they already did.
And what about God? What was it that Simon had said? “He must have better things to look at than two schoolboys.” “Perhaps we are misunderstanding God.” He seemed to know what he was talking about.
“What’s first class?” Simon interrupted his trance.
“English, I think. You’re good at English, aren’t you?”
Simon gave a shy smile. “I suppose I am. How did you know?”
“I’ve noticed,” Ralph shrugged, grinning back at him.
On the way to class, Ralph desperately wanted to grab Simon’s hand, but he couldn’t possibly with so many people around.
Sam and Eric came over just as they were about to enter the classroom. Ralph gave them a polite nod, which they barely acknowledged. They were worried about Simon.
“Simon, why weren’t you in our dorm last night?”
“Were you ill?”
“Everyone was wondering where you’d gone.”
Simon froze, glancing briefly at Ralph, who tried to come up with an excuse but failed.
“I was ill, yes — or, I thought I was. I feel much better after a night in the san. I was probably just tired.”
Sam and Eric accepted this response, to both Simon and Ralph’s relief. The four of them filed into class.
“I shouldn’t stay in your room tonight,” Simon whispered as they took their seats near the back of the room. “Just in case people wonder where I am.”
The idea that there had ever been a possibility of Simon staying another night made Ralph feel all fuzzy. Before he could respond, Jack Merridew came to stand over their desk.
“What are you two whispering about?”
“Nothing,” Simon told him, at the same time as Ralph blurted out “homework!” Jack narrowed his eyes.
“Careful, Ralph. You might catch it.” With that, he returned to his seat.
“Catch what?” Ralph asked. Simon simply pointed to himself, which only furthered his confusion, but he didn’t have time to ask any more as their teacher began the lesson.
Ralph wasn’t able to focus for the first three classes. His eyes kept wandering from his textbooks to Simon, and if Simon wasn’t in the class, he was in Ralph’s mind. There was an itch under his skin that he felt could only be scratched by continuing what they’d started last night.
He found Simon sitting under a tree in the courtyard with a book that he wasn’t reading open in his lap. Ralph dropped down beside him, checked to make sure they were alone, and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. It was as silky as he had imagined, and his fingers twitched with the urge to touch it more.
“Let’s go to my dorm,” he took Simon’s wrist and lead him back towards the school.
Finally behind closed doors, Ralph leaned against the wall and pulled Simon into his arms. Simon’s warmth against his chest was too good. He walked blindly over to the bed and lay down, still gripping him tightly.
“What’s this for?”
Ralph didn’t quite know what to say. “I just… I… I like you very much. Why, is this not okay?”
“It’s more than okay,” Simon kissed his cheek.
“Can I play with your hair?”
“Please.”
Ralph didn’t hesitate before pushing both hands through Simon’s hair, combing the ends with his fingers and smoothing it down with his palm. “You’re really beautiful.”
Their lips connected once more, and Ralph was so wrapped up in the feeling of Simon’s soft mouth against his own that he didn’t notice the footsteps down the hall, or the turning of the door handle, or the quiet gasp of surprise until it was too late.
Robert had returned from the sanatorium.