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The atmosphere in Castle Rock had drastically changed after they had barbarically murdered Piggy; littluns and biguns having gone completely silent at the sight of a crushing skull and gore-filled liquids oozing out uncontrollably. The air was hateful, intoxicatingly savage, and utterly revolting. Ralph couldn’t get the grim image out of his memory—etched inside like a bullet. And now, these regressed boys have turned to brutally hunt and attempt to slaughter him.
To avoid becoming prey and being torn to smithereens like a fugitive, Ralph had taken his knowledge of the island and hid himself in the tropical jungle in hopes of concealing himself from Jack’s tribe. Confined inside a faulty shelter made of palm leaves, twigs, and other jungle resources, it proved to camouflage Ralph rather well. The jungle was silent except for the occasional rustle of wildlife and the distant tide, the pitch darkness of the night had only made everything more unclear. Ralph had been half-awake, not a single ounce of rest in his body. He was tense from constant fear and uncertainty, always waiting for Jack’s hunters to find him and murder him.
And one had found him. But not in the way he predicted.
Maurice had been sneaking out beyond the perimeter of Castle Rock religiously for the past couple nights; betrayal and treacherous in every step he took out towards the woodlands. Every smash of soil and vines beneath his bare feet was another addition of him acting like a saboteur towards Jack. Maurice took a guilty glance back at the tribe’s ground, looking over the now-damp bonfire and surrounding huts like castle turrets.
He considered turning back, proving his loyalty to Jack and the tribe—but the searing spark he felt around Ralph, that blissful dopamine rush, made him venture forward into the jungle. Maurice pushed branches and overgrown plantation out of his way, hacking and whacking it away from himself in the dark cover of the night. Which only resulted in branches hurling back and smacking him directly in his face, making it harder to navigate among them.
“Ralph?” Maurice called out in a shushed tone, as if somebody would overhear and go tattle on him. It was followed by a pained noise, Maurice rubbing his cheek with an annoyed whimper as he must’ve walked into the rough bark of a tree. At the sound of Maurice’s soft voice calling his name, Ralph froze. His heart jumped and inexplicably fluttered at hearing Maurice's footsteps and muttered curses from getting tangled up in vines. The beat increased, like he was on the verge of a heart attack; something warm and dangerous, taboo but comforting and familiar.
Ralph lifted a palm leaf slightly to peer out into the midnight beyond his shelter, not being able to see anything for a grand amount of time before his eyes adjusted to the darkness. His shelter was inexcusably a weather hazard and easily flammable, but it was better than being out in the direct open. Then after a second he saw Maurice’s frame, tall silhouette moving carefully through unkept bushes and nature with his spear in hand.
Maurice that clown.
Ralph didn’t answer right away; not yet sure if it was really him or some cruel hoax Jack was playing to lure him out with. After all, Ralph was beyond traumatized by their actions; every noise startled him and every moment he spent awake drove him into paranoia from the hunters. “…Ralph, it’s just me,” Maurice continued, voice still desperately soft but sincere worry was weaved into it. It was simply to not attract any attention—wild or human.
“Where are you, Ralph? Are you alright?” Maurice finally caught sight of the makeshift hut Ralph had built—disguised and camouflaged along with the native nature of the island. He had heard the rustle, had aced enough geographical classes to notice the slight shift in the environment and how something looked uncanny and elevated. When he saw Ralph, no brutal holler left Maurice’s throat like it did with the other hunters when they spotted Ralph. No blood-shaking screeching and animalistic tribal yells.
Instead, Maurice bit his lip softly and blushed ever so faintly in the moonlight that coated him. The same shine that glimmered along the tidal waves at nighttime, now shown across Maurice’s painted face. For a second, Ralph didn’t know whether to feel relief or sorrow; relief because it was Maurice directly in the flesh and risking everything just to see him, but sorrow because he knew how dangerous this was for both of them.
It wasn't fair that someone on Jack's side could look at him with such tenderness and cotton-soft affection while the rest of them were on a spree attempting to find him. Maurice was still confined by civilization and society. Deep down, some type of kindness and knowledge that this was all so inhumanely wrong was inside him, but he tried to bury it under speared pig and histrionic tribal attire.
Without saying a single word yet out of caution and hesitation, Ralph fully pushed aside the palm leaf that he had previously lifted and motioned silently with his hand: Come inside. His eyes searched Maurice's face, not accusingly, but admiring the way that pink flourish complimented his face with a hint of sadness. It was bittersweet, in fact.
Maurice caught the hand signal immediately before he nodded quickly, that cheerful and comical smile returning back to his face at being welcomed inside. His lips roll back in a grin, teeth shining and cheeks raised in happiness. Maurice gets on his hands and knees to crawl inside Ralph's hideout without destroying anything, taking his spear inside with him but without any violent or malicious intent.
Maurice sat cross-legged in front of Ralph, expressing joyful and foolish. He wiped off the dirt and soil from his calloused palms on his shorts, causing grime-filled stains on the fabric. “I’ve—I’ve missed you, Ralph,” Maurice admits, face pinking more but in a way that made him look more like a charming cute boy than a savage barbarian. Ralph couldn’t help but smile at the sheer irony, considering Maurice had come last night and the night before that routinely.
“Jack and the others are still looking for you… said they’re going to set fire to the bushes and smoke you out of hiding,” Maurice explains briefly, just reciting what he overheard. He was betraying Jack and his tribe in every sense of the word—but he couldn’t ignore the temptation and twist in his chest for Ralph. From his democracy and his sensibility, to his tenderness and compassion, it all made Maurice unbelievably whipped for him. The fire that set itself in his heart, that unexplainable feeling similar to the humor Maurice put out into the world; he would trade anything to feel more of it with Ralph.
Ralph stared at Maurice, really stared and looked through the layers of face paint and remorse as the other boy said he missed him. That simple confession sounded effortlessly poetic and held Ralph like anchors. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed Maurice too, how much the unnamed feeling was reciprocated and mutual between them. Not just seeing his smiling face, but hearing that familiar humor laced under worry, watching that stupidly endearing grin light up the dark space of his shelter like the fire he needed desperately.
The contrast was maddening; these alleged twisted words being repeated to him by the affable and hilarious Maurice. Ralph didn’t want to believe it, but inside he knew that outside were hunters sharpening spears for his skull and were immensely determined to maul him. “Are… Are you sure?” Ralph asked with a quiet whisper, deluded disbelief in every word.
Maurice did that awkward, half-smile that he usually did when he began to feel the capacity of guilt and acknowledge his inner mortal compass. He dug at his nailbeds with his fingers, trying to distract himself from shame or remorse. But when he looked up at Ralph—all the words just flew out of him in jumbled messes: “Yes—Yes, I’m sure. I would never lie to you, I would never fool you!”
Maurice shot his hands up frantically, almost having made too much ruckus despite the intimacy and claustrophobic build of the shelter. It gave a playful sense of hope to Ralph, which made him nod and swallow hard before speaking. “I’ve missed you too, Maurice,” he admitted, his sentence pure cartilage to a firearm. Ralph watches as Maurice is quick to get extremely giddy and excited to the point he shudders in an attempt at staying silent as to remain undetected.
“…So you admit you love me too?” Maurice asks, grin like a Glasgow smile and brighter than it ever had before. It was like a dream come true, breath speeding up and heart starting up its ravenous pounding once again. Ralph freezes at the barely-concealed outburst and how Maurice is practically vibrating or seizing in bliss and delight—this wasn’t the typical joke or theatrical act from Maurice in hopes of making others giggle.
There was no way to deny or counteract that the nightly visits and secrets had stirred something that was hot like coals but cozy like the bedding back at home between the boys. It was like their hearts had locked together and merged into one—Ralph wouldn’t coldly dismiss such eagerness from Maurice. He lifted his hand, tanned skin reaching out and wistfully caressing Maurice’s cheek before sliding up to dangle his earring.
Ralph probed it, watching the jewelry rock back and forth. He watched as Maurice gazed so yearningly at him, tilting his jaw into the cup of Ralph’s hand like a needy dog needing validation and grooming. “I do, Maurice. I just… I just don’t understand why you decide to stay with Jack. The two of us could do something against them! Against the manhunt they have for me!”
Ralph needed Maurice so much that it hurt, it wasn’t even about being safe and secure anymore. The depressive melancholy returned to Maurice, giving him that unusual silence. He looked dreadfully wept and humbled, as if the world had gone in black-and-white once more. “…Ralph, you know why,” and for once there wasn’t a single ounce of laughter in Maurice’s tone.
*
In order to give themselves some sort of comfort while stranded on the island and drive Ralph's mind away from the murderous intent orbiting around him, they laid together. In the way parents would console their children after horrific nightmares. Maurice buried himself into Ralph's torso; the stomach chub from childhood long gone with growth. His cheek smashed against Ralph in a nuzzling motion, eyes closed in total dead calm and relaxation.
Maurice felt Ralph’s caring hands flatten and fix the wrinkles in the fabric of his bandana; sliding his fingertips just barely underneath to hook a strand of Maurice’s hair and watch it curl out. Ralph’s hands were hot like coals used for a campfire or a murky sauna; holding the hunter like he was something to be cherished and precious. Maurice almost let out a sigh of pleasure at it all.
Maurice wrapped his arms around Ralph, holding him close like he’d disappear in fogginess. He curled into him; the fabric of Ralph’s clothes bundling up into his balled fists. Both boys were lying like they’d lay there until they died—clenching each other in desperation like they’d have to be buried together.
Just the sound of the soft rise and fall of their breathing, tangled together in the cramped shelter like two puzzle pieces finally slotting together perfectly. Maurice clung to him so tightly it almost hurt—but Ralph didn’t mind at all. He welcomed it; the weight anchoring him from spiraling into fear or loneliness or insanity at what had become of the other boys.
Maurice felt the gentle scratches of Ralph's nails against his scalp as he slid his finger under his bandana, underneath filled with filth, soot and matted clumps of hair. Maurice looked up and stared at him with such a look that said it all without words; how he wanted to drop to his knees and declare his love towards Ralph like a knight. Maurice gripped at the fabric of Ralph’s clothes to pull himself up, nuzzling his face into the crevice where his neck connected to his shoulder.
Maurice placed delicate pecks to the sensitive skin of Ralph’s neck; kisses leaving stains of face paint that looked like infected rashes along Ralph’s neck. Which, in the sense that he had gotten tarnished by the savagery the other boys fell to, was true. It was messy, clumsy, and would be a burden to have to wash off later. But Ralph didn’t hesitate to push Maurice’s face more into his neck—puffy lips like pillows against his flesh.
It seemed like kisses weren’t enough, Maurice needed to bite through him—to become one.
Ralph arched into Maurice a bit, shutting his eyes and focusing all his senses on the sensation of his feather-light lips; lovely in every way. And due to the mere well-being feeling of being in each other's yearning arms, the two boys fell quickly to sleep greedy arms. Maurice wasn’t supposed to fall into slumber—he was supposed to return to Castle Rock slyly and stealthily, not a single scratch on his resilience. He was supposed to keep up the facade that he wasn’t desperate for Ralph, that he hadn’t been slithering through the shadows of the night just to meet with him.
But there was no alarm; no reminder for Maurice to scurry back so that nothing was suspicious, so that none of the other hunters noticed his absence. When he awoke, dribbling at the side of his mouth and causing a pile of drool on Ralph's shirt, he almost frowned. Maurice wished that everyone else would simply disappear, so that he wouldn’t have to get up and leave Ralph to go back to a pack of painted lunatics.
Maurice reluctantly untangled himself from Ralph’s arms, trying not to wake him. His hands clutched around Ralph for a moment too long—as if he’d fallen in love with him once more and refused to go. It had turned even blacker outside, far further into the late hours of the night. But soon enough, the sun would rise and cast heavenly light across the island followed by scorching heat. If Maurice was not back by then, he couldn’t imagine what outrages would be done to him.
Ralph was startled with the sudden motion, like an asinine mouse that had fallen for a standard cubed-cheese trap. A quiet groan left him as he rolled onto his back, feeling the wet spot of saliva that had magically appeared on his shirt. His vision was blurry with first awakening, eyelids flickering to adjust to the darkness. But before he could even process that Maurice was scrambling to prepare himself to start his journey back to Jack—his body instinctively shot out to grasp a hand around Maurice’s wrist.
Ralph gripped his wrist lightly, tremors in his hand from a mix of post-awakening weakness and dejection, and gently pulled Maurice back. Ralph didn’t sit himself up or try to pull with more strength, it was just a quiet plea for Maurice not to leave him. “Please… Please, Maurice, don’t go back. Don’t tell me you’re going,” Ralph mumbled, merging his words together a fraction but still audible enough to reach Maurice’s pumping heart.
How could Maurice say no to such a request? Ralph’s unyielding begging? “Alright,” Maurice agreed after a moment, head spinning from the conflict and how much Ralph seemed to need him like he needed oxygen or water. “I’ll stay for a bit more,” Maurice mumbles, almost out of breath as he lets Ralph pull him back, the boys bundling themselves up in each other's arms once more like finding driftwood among a whirlpool.
If only they could sleep away all their agony and worries in each others arms.