Chapter Text
On this autumn day, orange and brown leaves fell softly from the English oak trees, landing on top of the heads of many giggling schoolboys in the old, rustic boarding school, Trinity Academy.
Being enrolled in Trinity Academy was seen as the highest of achievements that a young English boy could possibly have. Its marble high white pillars, surrounded by gothic burgundy and brown buildings, and wilting ivy leaves strung around its beloved church, created an environment that felt something like a secret society, something that every boy in the country wished to possess.
One of the leaves fell softly on one particular boy's shining blonde head, him flicking it off with a careless shrug.
Jack Merridew fixed his hair slowly and took out the end of the leaves as he got up from the corner of the tree he was currently sitting under, walking over to his companions, Roger and Maurice. The bells had rung out, dismissing the latter boys from their class, and Jack approached them with his hands in his pockets, back straight, and with an arrogant tilt of his head.
On the other side of the boarding school, was Simon Camboune, who was currently walking into the boarding school for the first time. His company was his brown leather suitcases, filled to the brim with books and antiques that his mother had given to him years ago, before she passed.
He had just been accepted into the boarding school due to his excellent academic performances, and was looking forward to finding a place in the world, somewhere where his heart could relax, somewhere far from his father.
A breeze passed through the sky, dropping many orange and brown leaves on Simon's head.
Simon slowly pulled the leaves from his head, smiling softly to himself as he gathered one of the leaves and put it into his pocket. He thought the leaves looked beautiful, even when falling, as he very much liked the idea of transformation and letting go.
And so, maybe, it was the autumn leaves falling onto two boys heads at the same time, or maybe it was something else altogether. Something that had been restless for a long time, waiting to be let out.
"And then my mother told me I was grounded for a whole week, can you believe that?" exclaimed Maurice as the three boys walked into the backdoor of the academy. They were all fitted into thick black woolen coats, formidableness written all over their sharp faces.
Roger looked at Maurice, with an eyebrow tilt, as if to say, "Yes, I deeply can," all while Jack shrugged, distracted by all the feelings of being back for the start of term felt.
This past summer was most likely the last time he would stay with his family, for his father had declared that he and Jack's mother would be going abroad for quite a while, and they do not know when they should return.
His father had said this so casually over a newspaper, and Jack did not know what to feel at that point. He was not sure whether it was sadness or freedom that filled his bones.
But now, back in the halls, he felt, well, not much. He felt empty, even with the other boys. He felt as if the childhood innocence he had was slowly stripping away, leaving only a hardened boy with no real family.
"Jack, are you even listening, someone needs to agree with me!" Maurice protested, pleading at him to take his side in the argument of whether he should have been grounded for sneaking out three times the previous week.
Jack finally looked at them, and looking at both of their faces, who looked at him as if he had the answer to everything, made Jack shrug even more.
They all collected their timetables for their Sixth Form. Jack's timetable had English Literature, History, Mathematics, Lunch, Music, followed by Choir and Evening Prep after dinner. The three boys shared History and Mathematics together; to Maurice's happy delight, Roger's smirk, and Jack's constrained smile.
As they parted ways, Jack headed to his English class, his black shining loafers gliding along with the dark purple floors, his face in a hard, expressionless, look as he passed many other boys who looked at him in half-fear, half-wonder.
He walked into the classroom, its low light reflecting about fifteen chairs, already filled with chattering boys. Jack knew who everyone in the room was, for he had grown up with the same boys for a long time now. Nicky and Ralph were huddled in a corner, talking animatedly about their summer tales. The room was decorated with shelves of books, forest green walls, dark wood desks, and velvet curtains. It looked full of life.
Jack took a seat at the back of the classroom, and ignored some of the boys who tried to chat with him, instead staring at the wall, his eyes half-opened.
He never understood English literature, or at least, thought about it all that much. He did not understand the romance or the longing or how people were so passionate in their careers or lives in those kind of books. Or at least, he could not relate.
The professor walked in, a younger woman with deep black hair and kind brown eyes, holding many stacks of old papers and scrolls, smiling at all the boys.
"Hello all, my name is Professor Hazel, and I am thrilled to start teaching you about English literature, the backbone of life. I'm sure you will all have something to learn from its rich details and ways of understanding each other."
Although Jack did not mind the professor, he already began zoning in and out as she handed out outlines for the class excitedly. He looked out the window at the moody autumn sky. He tapped his pencil lightly against his desk, longing for something to give him the same enthusiasm of life it seemed everyone else had.
Suddenly a sharp knock was at the door, and Jack slowly focused in on the principal's head through the tinted window of the door, as Professor Hazel opened the door.
"Sorry to interrupt, but we have a new student registering today from Scotland, ignore his lateness" the principle said sternly, looking at all the boys, who had straightened up quickly, cleaning dust off their collars.
A new student? Trinity Academy rarely got new students, as it was so tight-knit, and unless highly educated, most of the boys who studied here had families who had to pay generous heaps of money for their sons to obtain the best of the best.
Jack was interested to see who the new student was, but still trained his eyes back to the window, feeling quite alone, surrounded by boys who had just come tanned and happy from their holidays.
"Hello, my name is Simon. Well, Simon Cambourne." A small, utterly soft voice spoke out like honey, causing Jack to turn his head abruptly back at the front of the classroom.
If Jack had not been fully interested before, that certainly changed now. For the boy, who stood at the front awkwardly, his hands bunched up into fists, with his tie slung haphazardly along his neck, ached something in Jack's chest.
The autumn sun was illuminating the boy, well, Simon Cambourne, his dark brown hair in soft waves, and his dark brown eyes were melting into the morning light. He had a small smile on his face, but still looked like he was a deer caught in headlines. He was simply beautiful. Simon.
Jack looked around, but although the other boys were looking at Simon in interest, none were looking at him in disbelief, like Jack currently was. How can someone like that, just casually exist? wondered Jack.
Professor Hazel welcomed Simon into the class, pointing him to a seat near the front of the class. Jack was transfixed on his every move as Simon walked toward his desk, like he could not look away even if he wanted to.
Simon's eyes flickered to Jack for a second, and it felt like the world stopped. Their eyes met, brown and blue, night and day.
Jack quickly looked away and forced his eyes on his desk, blocking out the rest of the lesson.
Jack was in Mathematics with Maurice and Roger when his thoughts drifted to the new boy, Simon, once again. He did not know why, he had never even thought of a boy this much before, but something about his brain kept finding his way back to him. Jack let out a deep breathe, forcing himself to return back to class.
He was quite good in mathematics, he liked to focus on reason and analytical clarity. He understood logic much more than something like English, in which there were so many understandings and nuances.
He, Roger, and Maurice were currently in the back corner with their desks closely near each other, whispering (quite loudly) and helping each other with the math problems that the teacher had assigned them to do.
"Did you hear about the new student? I think his name is Simon?" Maurice said, while looking at this math textbook.
"Yeah, I saw him in the halls. It's strange, we do not get many new students. He looked quite weird and all, clutching onto his books and walking with his head down, like he was trying to escape the world." scoffed Roger.
Jack's ears had lit up for the first time in this conversation, and he slowly lifted his head from his own work, pretending he was less interested than he truly was.
"He's in my English class. He's from Scotland or something." Jack shrugged, heat running to the back of his neck.
Jack rubbed at the back of his warm neck, wondering why he even cared about this random boy, let alone where he was from.
He had never been to Scotland, but he had always longed to go after seeing the nice postcards that other boys in the academy had received from relatives there.
Roger looked at him for a beat too long, and before he could say anything, the professor shushed them and they all returned back to their work, the only sound being pencils across paper and Jack's slightly too loud heartbeat.
They made their way to lunch after Mathematics, the familiar busting halls filled with candles and feasts of food on the tables, making Jack smile in some sort of familiarity. He put some roast potatoes and chicken on his plate, beginning to eat with his silverware, when Roger pointed to something behind them.
"Look at what we have here, new boy is already making friends, rather lousy ones at that!" laughed Roger viciously, making Maurice look up and Jack twist his neck quickly.
At the table near their table were Ralph and Nicky followed by a shy Simon, sitting in the corner. They were eating dinner and talking, well mainly Ralph and Nicky were chattering, and Simon was looking at them with interest but was more reserved.
Jack's heart lurched a bit, and he did not know why. Why should he care that Simon, who he never even met, was hanging around Ralph and Nicky, just like all the other little boys who doted around Ralph like he was the leader of the school?
Jack scoffed and returned back to his dinner (after staring at Simon's soft curls for longer than necessary).
Roger suddenly got up, and walked over to them. Maurice looked at Jack in question while Jack just looked up confusingly at why Roger was going up to their table.
"Well if it is not great Ralph and Piggy, already recruiting another weird boy to their little club!" laughed Roger mockingly, making the three boys go silent.
Maurice laughed like a little boy then, but Jack remained silent at the table, looking at Simon.
Simon had bowed his head down, looking like he was torn between something, when suddenly he looked right up across to Jack's table at Maurice's laughing face, and then trailing his eyes toward Jack himself.
Jack felt the blood rush to his face, for Simon's big brown eyes were looking at him with something, something he could not name. Maurice was saying something, but it felt like the corners of Jack's worldview was grey and muted and the only burst of colour was where his and Simon's eyes had met in the middle.
Suddenly, Simon looked up at Roger and said "Leave us alone please," in his small sort of quiet way, but there was something underneath it, something confident and clear and strong. Stronger than Jack, at least. Maybe it was that moment, when Jack saw something in Simon, something resilient and bright, in which he knew that nothing could ever be the same.
The week went on as it had, with Jack repeating the same orderly routine of classes, dinner, choir and prep. He hung out with Maurice and Roger at breaks, he watched (and sometimes, helped) them make fun of the little boys, and he played games of cards. He did his nighttime routine, slipped into his bed in his silk pyjamas, combed his hair, and stared out at the moonlight in his single room. Everything was the same.
Well, except.
Now there was Simon.
Simon, who Jack searched out in every English class, who sat in the front in his dull brown clothing, but seemed to light up the room regardless.
Simon, who he only shared one class with but felt like he could stare at his back all day.
Simon, who never said much at all in class, but who looked at Jack, really looked at Jack, every time he walked into class. Simon, who seemed like the only thing really worth noticing.
Jack did not know what all of this meant, and he did not care to know right now. All he cared about was that his life seemed a little more colourful when Simon had stepped into the classroom.
Unfortunately, that meant Jack's English grades were suffering even more than before, with him distracted by both English literature and Simon through the whole class.
At the end of the week, as Jack was preparing to leave, Miss Hazel asked him to stay behind. As the boys trickled out, Jack looked at her, puzzled.
"Jack, I am aware that it has only been a week of class, but in all the daily quizzes you have nearly leave the whole sheet blank! You seem to be doing great in other classes, is there something going on?" She asked him gently.
"Sorry Professor. Nothing is going on. I mean-well, I just have a hard time, understanding this stuff I guess." Jack shrugged, his blue eyes scattering across the classroom.
"This stuff?" She questioned.
"Well, I mean, what the point is. When I learn the other subjects, I can see why they can be used for life, such as mathematics or history. They are full of logic, while literature, although important, seems to me more about feelings and sometimes, I cannot really understand what they are talking about or why it matters." Jack stated simply.
Professor Hazel looked at him, as if looking through him, for a minute, before softly responding, "I understand your point, but I do think literature has a way of showing us what really matters in the world, and it offers insight into how we are connected through history by the common ordeal of feeling emotions,
I think learning about how many genres enrapture the greatest questions of our time, such as the meaning of life and love, can bring us a sense of clarity and insight that we may have always been searching for."
Jack looked at her, his brow furrowing, as he took this in.
"Regardless, you must do your best to keep your grades up for the school. While I myself do not believe in grades being the sole reason of someone's intelligence, you must at least put some effort into the questions,
Next week, we are going to start reading Pride and Prejudice, and I would like for you, well to partner with somebody and learn from them the ways of English literature and understanding, for when I am not available, of course. I am free to answer any questions you'd like, but I have a lot of other classes to teach too." She added, smiling at him.
He nodded, a bit reluctantly. Partnering? He was used to doing everything himself, whether that was taking care of himself while his mother laid in bed and his father ignored him. Even whether that was with Maurice and Roger, who bickered toward each other and Jack stood in the middle, barely listening. He was used to being by himself.
But still, he wanted to do well. Not even for him, but maybe that way, his father would at least pay attention to him... So he nodded again, quicker this time.
Professor Hazel beamed at him, and the next few words she uttered would later have much of an impact on Jack, more than he could ever think.
"Great, the new student, Simon Cambourne, is very intelligent in English literature, and can maybe help you along, I will ask him!"
Oh God.