Chapter Text
1
5/27/2026
Suzy gasped as she took the phone in her own hands. The dark haired boy across from her sighed, his eyes glistening, not yet daring to let a tear drop—not here at least. She slid her finger across the screen, flipping through the instagram post made just a few hours ago. Her eyes darted across the screen as she looked at the username and people in the photo.
“Are you serious?” She said, using her thumb to open the comments.
The boy nodded, taking in a deep breath as he shook his head gently. Suzy’s lips pushed together, her bottom one curling slightly as she looked up at the tan boy and then back down at his phone screen.
On the screen, a tall ginger boy stood, his arm wrapped around the waist of a short brunette girl, both of them smiling in the photo. The next photos were a lot of the same; a lot of smiling and touching. The tan boy rested his elbows on the table, his chin resting on one of his hands as he frowned, looking at the girl.
“I mean I totally knew Lexi had fancied him, I just thought— or hoped, they would never actually start dating.” The boy’s tone was flat and disappointed. Suzy looked up at him, placing the phone face down.
“I’m so sorry Simon.” Suzy placed her hand on top of his, a gesture that would seem flirty, but was only friendly for the two of them. Simon sighed, not responding.
He had known it was unrealistic for him to like someone like that, like him—like Jack.
Simon had liked him for a while, it shouldn’t be weird, but it was because it was Jack. They’d been friends for a long while, since they were about six. They’d gone to pre-preparatory school together, and then actual preparatory. They’d also been friends since then. They didn’t seem like the ideal childhood friendship, a calm boy who didn’t have a lot to say and the loud red-head who cried over everything. They’d also shared a dormitory for years. It was routine at this point. Every year when they’d submit their room requests Jack's name would end up on Simon’s sheet and vice versa. They’d just become so close that it happened naturally— his feelings for Jack. But it wasn’t normal friendship-crush feelings, no.
Simon Cambourne was not Jack Merridew’s friend.
Not in public that is.
When they were alone they would talk about anything. Jack’s choir or Simon’s father. But when others were around, Simon simply didn’t exist.
When Roger would make a comment about Simon, Jack would just laugh along with the others. Simon would remain numb and say little when those things happened. Naturally, he would end up going back to the dormitories, alone. He found that he was often alone during the day, of course at breakfast and in the rooms he’d be with Jack, but by the time classes started, Jack was with everyone else; Simon was alone. He became okay with that idea—as okay as someone could be with that idea.
Eventually, Suzy came into the picture. When Suzy arrived at Picton, Simon noticed her immediately. She had faded turquoise hair that seemed to get darker every time he saw her. She was sent to Picton after being caught with her former boyfriend. Her and Simon got along quickly, and he told her everything. Though sometimes he felt guilty for telling her so much, and prayed in the Cathedral attached to the right-wing of the school, that she wouldn’t go to hell for his sins.
Suzy’s real name was Susanne but she was only known as Suzy and didn’t let anyone call her Susanne. She was consistently reprimanded for her hair, but was nonetheless left alone because Father Steven pitied her and thought she was troubled.
Suzy stood up from the table, her flowy skirt just barely covering her brown mary janes.
“I wish I could stay and talk more about this but the new Bishop is strict, and hardly lets us keep our phones on us at this hour.” Suzy leaned towards Simon, pulling him into a tight hug.
“Don’t let this get to your head okay? He’s still your friend and maybe things will work out in the end.” She pulled back, nodding as she placed Simon’s phone back in his hand.
Simon gave her a weak smile. “Goodnight Simon.”
“Goodnight.”
Suzy turned and walked away, speeding to make it back to her halls before any of the Bishops could scold her for being in the male quarters.
Simon sighed, tucking his phone into his pocket as he stood up. He walked through the empty quarters, the large Picton banners hung up, the crosses at every corner.
Picton wasn’t like most preparatory schools nearby. It was more like normal school—like public school. Students would attend their classes and meals but they’d be allowed out of campus. Once the large bell chimed two times, students were allowed to travel around town. The only rule was to return before dark and be present at supper. The dress code was still applied. All skirts and shorts had to be at least to the knee, hair was to be kept tidy; no dyes or big hair styles, shoulders, waists, stomachs, any ‘unusual’ skin, was to be hidden.
Suzy hated the dress code because it didn’t allow her “Freedom of Expression,” like she always said.
Simon hurried up the stairs to the sleeping quarters as the bell chimed, meaning it was officially evening hours. Students were to remain in their dorms at this time, and weren’t supposed to leave until the early-morning bell chimed.
He continued down the hall, running one of his hands over his forehead and through his hair as he reached the door. Naturally, he should reach for the keys in his pocket, but Jack never locks the door. He normally forgets, that's what Simon always says but he knows that Jack, really, just doesn’t care.
Simon pushed the door open, twisting the knob and then wiping his sweaty hands off on his trousers. That happens a lot now. Ever since Simon admitted his feelings to himself, he was constantly scared near Jack—nervous near Jack. Whenever there was a door Simon knew Jack would be on the other side of, He would get sweaty and nervous.
At first, his heart would pound every time he was near Jack, but after a bit that went away—unlike his feelings for Jack. Those remained the same.
Jack’s red hair was the first thing to catch Simon's attention, it always was. The second thing was Jack’s body, or chest. At this point, Simon was used to it. It wasn’t weird for boys to not have shirts on around each other. A month ago, Simon would’ve turned bright red, and even now he felt his ears heat up.
Jack turned slightly, his eyes scanning Simon up and down before going back to the mirror where he was brushing his teeth. He removed the toothbrush from his mouth, spitting into the sink, before turning on the water and rinsing the bristles under it.
Simon kicked his shoes off, picking them up and placing them onto the rack next to Jack’s. He took off his jacket and hung it up, making sure not to dirty nor wrinkle it in the process.
“You’re back late, quite suspicious hm?” Jack startled Simon as he unexpectedly broke the silence.
Simon tried to laugh it off, making it seem as natural as possible.
“Was just walking around, got too in my head and lost track of time.” Simon said, a pit growing in his stomach as he glanced at Jack.
Jack snickered, finally turning off the bathroom light as he walked over to his bed. He sat on the edge, taking one of his pillows and fluffing it.
He always did this at night, Simon thought it was very performative of Jack and that he didn’t really mean it, nonetheless, he found it one of those oddly attractive things. Like how he felt when he noticed Jack looking at himself in the mirror after putting on his blazer.
Jack looked up from his pillow, his gaze sharp enough to pin Simon against the doorframe. “You’re acting weird, Simon. Weirder than usual.”
Simon felt the familiar prickle of heat behind his ears. He turned away, pretending to be deeply interested in the alignment of his textbooks on the small, scarred oak desk.
The room smelled of Jack’s toothpaste and the faint, lingering scent of soap, Jack must’ve showered not long ago.
It was a small space, barely enough for two beds, two desks, and a small, kind of shared wardrobe, but it was the only place in Picton where the walls didn’t feel like they were closing in with the weight of centuries of tradition and judgment.
“I’m just tired, Jack,” Simon lied, his voice sounding thin even to his own ears. “The Bishop was doing rounds near the library. I had to take the long way back.”
“The Bishop is a fossil,” Jack dismissed with a wave of his hand. He flopped back onto his mattress, his pale skin stark against the dark navy sheets. “He wouldn’t notice a riot if it happened in the middle of Lent supper.” He paused, stopping to think for a second.
“Did you see it? The post?”
The pit in Simon’s stomach grew, cold and heavy. He knew exactly what Jack was referring to. The image of the tall ginger boy and the brunette girl flashed before his eyes—the way Jack’s hand had rested so naturally on Lexi’s waist, a claim over her that Simon would never experience.
“Yea I saw it,” Simon said, keeping his back to Jack. He balled his hand into a fist, grabbing onto something that wasn’t there. “Lexi looked happy, I'm happy for you.” He said, his words empty and meaningless.
“She is. She’s great, actually. I think she really likes me.” Jack said, and there was almost a note of sorrow in his voice that meant more to Simon than he cared to admit. Jack Merridew, the boy who commanded the choir with a flick of his wrist, the boy who could persuade the strictest Bishop into a smile, was here, in this room with Simon and he was starting to think that maybe there was an invisible line in Jack’s voice—maybe Simon was finally going crazy.
“Why wouldn’t she?” Simon asked, fully turning around, making his bed creak. The sound that had underlied their late-night conversations for years. “Everyone likes you, Jack.”
Jack laughed, a short, sharp laugh.
“Not everyone. Roger thinks I’m getting soft. Says I spend too much time ‘socializing’ and not enough time keeping the younger years in line.” He looked at Simon then, his eyes blue and searching, looking for answers and maybe even something deeper
“What about you? You think I’m getting soft?”
Simon looked at the floor, observing every floorboard and the way the moonlight hit each one like it was actually interesting. He thought of the years they’d spent together, from the shared tears in the preparatory school dorms to the whispered secrets in the back of the Cathedral. He thought of how Jack would laugh at Roger’s cruel jokes in public, then come back here and ask Simon if he thought they’d gone too far. He wondered if Jack really cared what Simon had to say or if he thought Jack was getting soft. Their friendship was a series of unreal memories, a concrete bridge over the rough sea.
“I think you’re just growing up,” Simon said softly. “Dating Lexi… “ Simon’s voice trailed off for a second, his heart aching thinking of Jack’s lips pressed against hers.
“it’s what people do. It’s normal.”
The word ‘normal’ felt like coffee with no cream in his mouth; bitter. In a place like Picton, where the crosses hung in every corner and the prayers were recited until they were meaningless, ‘normal’ was the highest virtue—the only virtue. And Simon knew, with an unfortunate certainty, that he would never be normal. Not if his heart kept beating for the boy across the room.
Jack didn’t respond for a long time. He just stared at the ceiling, his fingers drumming a rhythmic pattern against his stomach. Outside, the wind rattled the heavy glass of the window, bringing with it the distant, muffled sound of the town clock chiming the quarter-hour. The school felt like a fortress at night, a place of stone and shadow where the rules were absolute and the punishments were swift.
“Lexi asked about you,” Jack said suddenly, making Simon’s breath catch in his throat and his heart nearly stop.
“She asked why you’re always so quiet. Why don't I talk to you like I talk to Roger or Bill.”
Simon felt a surge of sickness wash over him.
“What did you tell her?”
“I told her you were busy. Studying. Praying. You know, Simon stuff.”
Jack rolled onto his side, propping his head up on his hand. “But she’s right. It feels weird, Simon. Even when you’re here, it feels like you’re somewhere else. Like you aren’t my friend”
Simon wanted to scream. He wanted more than anything to say everything right then and there, to tell Jack that he loved him and that he’ll always be there no matter what. Instead, he just shrugged.
“I just have a lot on my mind. Picton, it’s a lot sometimes. The Bishop, the exams, the expectations.”
Jack snorted, interrupting Simon.
“Expectations. My father wants me in the Ministry. Can you imagine? Me, in a collar, telling people what to do?” He laughed, but there was no real joy in it. “I’d be removed or kicked out within a week.”
“You’d be a good leader,” Simon said, and he meant it. Jack had a way of pulling people into his orbit. Even when he was being cruel, people wanted to be near him.
It was a blessing but for Simon it was a curse.
“Maybe,” Jack said, his voice dropping, finally relaxing. He looked at Simon, his expression unreadable in the dim light.
“You’re the only one who really knows me, Simon. The only one who doesn’t look at me and see the ‘Head Chorister’ or the ‘Head boy’. You just see me.”
Simon’s heart hammered against his ribs. This was the problem, the moment where the lines blurred and the hope he tried so hard to hide deep within him, would boil up. Jack would say something like this, something so intimate, so raw, so convincing, and Simon would convince himself that there was a chance. That maybe, just maybe, Jack felt it too.
But then the morning would come, and Roger would make a joke, and Jack would laugh, and Simon would become invisible again. Suzy would appear and it’d be just Simon and Suzy.
“I see you, Jack,” Simon whispered, his voice coming out quiet and more honest than he’d wished.
Jack reached out, his hand hovering in the space between their beds. For a second, Simon thought he might reach for him, might take his hand and hold it the way Suzy had earlier. Hold him in the same way that he’d held Lexi. But Jack just adjusted his blanket, pulling it up to his chin.
“Goodnight, Simon,” Jack said, turning onto his back and closing his eyes.
“Goodnight, Jack,” Simon replied.
He lay back on his own bed, staring up at the dark canopy.
He thought of the Instagram post, of the smile on Jack’s face that wasn’t meant for him. He thought of Suzy’s warning, of the Bishop’s strictness, and of the long, lonely years ahead. Having this friendship was like riding a broken boat. It kept him from drowning, but he knew it wouldn’t work forever. But he couldn’t just get off. He would rather fail in silence than lose the only person who had ever truly seen him, even if that person could never love him back.
In the distance, the large bell of Picton chimed once—the half-hour. The sound echoed through the stone halls, a reminder of the god that governed their lives.
Simon closed his eyes and prayed, not to the God in the Cathedral, but to the memory of a loud red-headed boy who had once cried over a scraped knee, and the boy he had become—the boy who was now breaking Simon’s heart without even knowing it.