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The first snowfall came on a Tuesday.
It began as a rumor against the windows—soft tapping, like fingers testing glass. By morning, the grounds were white and the school looked almost gentle, as if it had been washed clean of everything it usually held.
Almost.
Simon woke early. The building was still asleep. Even the pipes seemed quieter in winter, as if the cold had muted them. He pulled on his cardigan and stepped into the corridor.
At the end of the hall, another door opened.
Jack.
They stopped at the same time. For a second, neither moved. Then Jack shrugged slightly.
“Snow’s stuck.” Simon nodded. “Yeah.”
That was all it took for them to start walking. Not together exactly. Just… in the same direction.
The common room fireplace had already been lit by the night staff and left to burn low. The chairs were empty, arranged neatly as if waiting for a conversation that hadn’t started yet.
Jack dropped into one of them and stared at the fire. Simon sat opposite. Silence settled between them.
It wasn’t uncomfortable. It wasn’t easy either. It was just… familiar in a way neither of them said aloud.
After a while, Jack spoke. “You ever think about it when it’s like this?” Simon didn’t ask what it meant.
“Yes.”
Jack nodded once, like that was the only answer he needed.
Outside, wind pushed snow against the windows in soft, steady waves. “I don’t like the quiet,” Jack said after a moment.
Simon glanced at him. “I thought you would.” Jack let out a short laugh that didn’t sound like humor. “I used to.”
He leaned forward, elbows on knees. “Before everything, I mean.” Simon studied him carefully.
Jack’s voice had changed when no one else was around. Less sharp. Less performed. Like he wasn’t trying to become anything.
Just… existing.
For a while, Simon read. Jack watched the fire. Eventually, Jack spoke again. “You’re better at this than I am.”
“At what?”
“Being… normal.”
Simon almost smiled. “I don’t think I am.” Jack didn’t argue. That, more than anything, felt new.
By midday the snow had thickened enough that the grounds were empty. No classes. No games. Just drifting white silence beyond the windows.
The cook brought them lunch without comment. Two trays. Two plates. She set them down and left quickly, like she didn’t want to interrupt something fragile.
Jack stared at the food. “I forgot what it’s like when nobody’s watching,” he said.
Simon looked up. “We’re still being watched.” Jack frowned. Simon nodded slightly toward the corridor.
“Just not by people.” Jack was quiet for a moment.
“That sounds like something you would say on the island.”
Simon didn’t deny it. Instead, he said softly: “It was true there too.”
That afternoon, Jack got sick. It started small—just a cough he tried to ignore. Then the color drained from his face during a walk around the courtyard.
Simon noticed first. “You’re shaking.”
“I’m fine,” Jack said immediately.
Simon didn’t argue. He simply reached out and pressed the back of his hand briefly against Jack’s forehead.
Jack froze.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking.”
“I said I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
That was the end of the argument.
Within an hour, Jack was in bed. He insisted on sitting up. Simon pulled the blankets higher anyway.
“I don’t need—“
“You do.”
Jack stopped talking. That was unusual.
Simon left once to speak to the matron, came back with medicine, and a cup of tea that smelled faintly bitter.
Jack stared at it. “You didn’t have to do all this.” Simon sat in the chair beside the bed. “I know.”
The firelight flickered across the room. Snow pressed quietly against the window like the world had slowed down to listen.
Jack lay back against the pillow, still watching Simon as if trying to figure something out.
“You always do that,” he said quietly.
“Do what?”
“Act like it’s obvious what people need.”
Simon thought about it. “It isn’t.” Jack gave a faint, tired smile. “It is with me.” That made Simon look away. Not because it was uncomfortable. Because it was too accurate.
Later, Jack drifted in and out of sleep. At some point, Simon opened a book but didn’t read it. He just stayed there. Watching the fire. Listening to the snow. Making sure Jack didn’t get too cold.
At one point Jack shifted, half-awake. “Simon?”
“Yes?”
A pause.
Then quieter “Don’t go.”
Simon didn’t answer right away. Finally, “I’m not going anywhere.” Jack’s breathing steadied after that.
When he was fully asleep, Simon closed the book. The room felt different now. Not safe. Not healed. But quieter than it had been since the island.
He looked at Jack for a long time. Then said, barely aloud “We were friends before all of it.”
Jack didn’t hear him. Or maybe he did. Either way, he didn’t respond.
Outside, snow kept falling. And for the first time since the crash, the silence between them didn’t feel like something broken.
Just something paused.
Jack woke to the sound of pages turning. For a moment he didn’t remember where he was. The ceiling was too clean. The air smelled like firewood and tea instead of salt and smoke.
Then he turned his head. Simon was still there.
Reading.
Like he had never left. Jack shifted slightly under the blankets. “You stayed.” Simon looked up. “Yes.”
A pause.
Jack frowned faintly, as if testing the idea. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep that long.” “You needed it.”
That answer made Jack roll his eyes a little. “Stop saying that like you know everything.” Simon’s mouth twitched.
“I don’t know everything.”
“Feels like it.”
That made Simon actually smile. Just a little.
The book lay open in Simon’s hands. Jack squinted at the cover. “What is that again?”
Huckleberry Finn.
Simon held it up slightly. “You said you wanted something different.”
“I don’t remember saying that.”
“You did.”
Jack sighed. “Fine. Read it.”
Simon read slowly. At first, Jack interrupted constantly. “That doesn’t make sense.” “Why would he do that? “That kid’s an idiot.”
Simon didn’t argue. He just kept reading. Eventually, Jack stopped interrupting. Not because he agreed. Because he was listening.
It was during a scene about escaping down the river that Jack suddenly laughed. Not a small laugh. A real one.
Simon paused. “What?” Jack shook his head, still smiling. “That’s stupid.”
“What is?”
“All of it. Running away on a raft like it solves anything." Simon tilted his head slightly. “Does it?”
Jack opened his mouth to answer. Then stopped. His expression shifted. “…Maybe it does.” That surprised even him.
By late afternoon Jack’s fever had dropped. Jack insisted he could walk. Simon insisted he shouldn’t. They compromised by going outside anyway.
The snow had stopped. The world was bright and sharp, like it had been cut clean. They walked past the empty sports fields until they reached the edge of the woods behind the school.
There, half-hidden between trees, stood their place. A crooked old oak. Low branches. Wide roots.
A hollow underneath where the ground dipped slightly. Jack stopped. “Still here.” Simon nodded.
“The Tree of Destiny,” Jack said, as if announcing something important. Simon glanced at him. “You named it that.” “It’s a good name.” “It’s a tree.” “It has potential.”
Simon didn’t argue. That, again, felt familiar. They sat under it like they had before the island.
For a while, neither spoke. Then Jack picked up a stick and drew lines in the snow. “What would it decide today?” he asked.
Simon looked at him. “What?” “The tree. Destiny thing.” Simon considered it seriously, which made Jack snort.
“I don’t think it works like that.” Jack leaned back against the trunk. “Humor me.”
Simon looked up at the branches. The wind moved through them softly. “Then I suppose it would decide…” he paused, “that you’re not very patient.”
Jack laughed again. “Unfair.”
“It’s accurate.”
As the light faded, Jack grew quieter. The sickness hadn’t fully left him. He leaned more heavily against the tree. Simon noticed.
“You should go back inside.” Jack shook his head immediately. “No.”
“Why not?” A pause. Jack didn’t answer right away. Then, more quietly: “It feels worse in there.”
Simon understood what he meant. Not the illness. Something else.
After a while, Jack shifted. “Sit closer.” Simon looked at him. “What?”
“Just—come here.” Simon hesitated. Then moved so their shoulders touched lightly against the tree.
Jack let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding “Better,” he muttered. Simon didn’t respond. But he didn’t move away either.
The sky darkened slowly. Snow clouds returned at the horizon. Jack’s voice came quieter now. “Read again.” Simon blinked.
“You want more?”
“Yeah.” A pause. “But not the sad parts.” Simon almost smiled again. “I don’t think I can control that.” Jack closed his eyes. “Try.” So Simon read.
At some point, Jack’s head tipped slightly against Simon’s shoulder. Simon didn’t say anything. He just kept reading.
The words of Huck Finn blurred into the cold air, into the tree branches above them, into the quiet space between two boys pretending—for a few hours—that nothing had ever happened.
Jack’s breathing slowed. His grip on reality loosened. And when he finally fell asleep, it wasn’t sudden. It was gentle. Like something finally letting go.
Simon closed the book. The snow began again. Softly. Carefully.
He looked down at Jack. Then up at the Tree of Destiny. “I don’t know what you’re supposed to decide,” he said quietly.
A pause. “But I think you’re trying.” Jack didn’t hear him. But he stayed there anyway. And so did Simon.
Jack’s breathing evened out slowly. At first Simon didn’t move.
He could feel the weight of Jack against his shoulder—heavy in a way that wasn’t uncomfortable, just real. Like proof that Jack was still here, still just a boy, still something that could fall asleep instead of fall apart.
The wind moved through the branches above them.
Snow from earlier clung to the bark in thin, melting patches.
Simon kept reading for a while longer. But his voice got softer. Then slower. Then it stopped altogether.
The book slipped slightly in his lap. He didn’t notice. His eyes stayed open for a moment longer, watching the sky through the branches of the tree.
The Tree of Destiny, Jack had called it. It looked less important now. Just a tree. Just winter light. Just silence that didn’t hurt.
Simon’s head tilted slightly. At first it was small. Just the exhaustion finally catching up to him.
Then it settled fully, carefully, like something giving in after a long argument with itself. His forehead came to rest against Jack’s hair. And that was it. He fell asleep too.
The world didn’t change. It just moved around them. A bird landed on a branch above and watched them for a moment before flying away.
Somewhere in the distance, a bell rang for something neither of them had to attend. Time passed without asking permission.
When Simon woke, he didn’t know how long it had been. Something felt different. The cold was softer. Not gone. Just less sharp. He blinked slowly.
The first thing he realized was that Jack was still asleep. Still leaning against him. The second thing he realized was that he was leaning back.
His head rested lightly against Jack’s. Neither of them had moved. Not once.
Simon didn’t wake him immediately. He just sat still. The sky had changed. The pale white of the afternoon was gone.
Now everything was orange. Warm. The kind of light that made the snow glow instead of glare.
Sunset.
They had slept through the entire afternoon. Simon slowly lifted his head. Carefully. Jack shifted slightly but didn’t wake.
For a moment Simon just looked at him. Not the version of Jack from the school corridors. Not the version from the island.
Just Jack.
A gust of wind moved through the branches. Jack stirred.
“Simon…?”
His voice was rough with sleep. “I’m here,” Simon said immediately. Jack didn’t open his eyes yet. “Did I fall asleep?”
“Yes.”
A pause. “…Did you?” Simon hesitated. Then:
“Yes.”
That made Jack exhale something like a laugh. “Pathetic.” Simon’s mouth twitched. “I think it was mutual.”
Jack finally opened his eyes. The sunset hit them immediately—gold light reflecting off the snow and tree bark, making everything feel unreal for a second.
He blinked slowly. “We stayed here all day.”
“Yes.”
Jack looked around, as if confirming the world hadn’t ended while he wasn’t paying attention. Then he noticed something else.
They were still leaning together. He didn’t move away. Neither did Simon.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then Jack said quietly: “I don’t remember the last time I slept like that.”
Simon looked down at the ground. “Without nightmares?” Jack nodded.
A pause.
“Yeah.”
The word came out almost carefully. Like he didn’t want to break it by saying it too loudly.
The sky deepened into orange and then red. The Tree of Destiny cast long shadows across the snow. Jack shifted slightly, pulling his knees closer.
“We should go back.” Simon nodded. But neither stood up yet.
Instead, Jack looked at him again. Not quickly. Not like he usually did when other people were around. Just… looking.
“You stayed,” he said again. Simon didn’t answer right away. Then:
“You told me not to go.”
Jack frowned slightly, thinking. Then nodded.
“Yeah.”
A pause.
“…Good.”
Eventually, they stood. Slowly. Like leaving the moment required effort. Jack brushed snow off his sleeves.
Simon picked up the book from the ground. Huckleberry Finn was slightly damp at the edges now. He held it anyway.
As they started walking back toward the school, the lights in the windows were beginning to turn on one by one.
The world was coming back. But something behind them didn’t feel like it had ended. Not really. Not entirely.
Jack glanced once over his shoulder at the tree.
“Still a good name,” he said. Simon followed his gaze.
“The Tree of Destiny?”
“Yeah.”
Simon considered it. “I think it just decided we were tired.” Jack let out a small laugh “Fair.”
They walked on. Side by side. Not touching anymore. But not separate either. And for a little while longer before the school, before the bells, before everything returned to how it was supposed to be. That was enough.
The corridor was quieter than it should have been. Not empty. Just… stretched.
Like the building itself was holding its breath. Simon stood at his door for a moment before going in. Across the hall, Jack did the same. Neither of them spoke. They rarely did at night. Night made everything heavier.
Inside their rooms, the usual sounds of boarding school faded one by one. Doors closing. Footsteps softening. Lamps going out. The final bell. Then silence.
Simon was sitting on his bed, still fully dressed, when there was a knock at his door. Two soft taps. He opened the door.
Jack stood in the doorway. Not fully inside. Not fully leaving. Just there. Jack shifted slightly.
“I—” He stopped, like the sentence didn’t want to exist. Then tried again. “I slept better earlier.”
Simon understood immediately. At the tree. The silence between them filled the space. Jack rubbed the back of his neck.
“I don’t usually,” he added, almost defensively. “Sleep properly, I mean.” Simon didn’t respond right away.
He just watched him. Then quietly:
“Do you want to stay?” Jack hesitated. Then stepped inside.
He didn’t sit on the bed at first. He stood there awkwardly, like he wasn’t sure the room belonged to him enough to take up space in it.
Simon moved slightly to one side. That was all the invitation Jack needed. He sat down.
The mattress dipped. Neither of them looked at each other for a moment.
“I kept thinking about it,” Jack said finally. “About what?”
“The tree.” Simon nodded slightly. Jack frowned at the floor. “It was… easier there.”
A pause. “I didn’t have to think so much.” Simon understood that too. He just didn’t say it.
Jack glanced sideways. “You were there when I fell asleep.”
“Yes.”
“I remember that part.” Simon looked down at his hands. “You fell asleep first.” Jack gave a short, quiet laugh. “Of course I did.”
Then, after a pause: “Then stay tonight.” Jack looked up. Simon didn’t meet his eyes immediately.
He kept staring at the floor, like the request was something he could only say safely if he didn’t fully acknowledge it.
“If you really sleep better,” Simon added quickly, “when I’m there.”
For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Simon laid down. Jack shifted back slightly, making space without being asked. Jack lay back too. They both turned to face each other. The room settled.
Outside, wind moved softly against the windows.
Jack was close enough now that Simon could see the faint shadow of exhaustion beneath his eyes. The fever had mostly passed, but he still looked tired in a way that had nothing to do with being sick.
Then Jack said quietly, “You keep looking like you’re about to leave.” Simon blinked. “I’m not.”
“I know.” Jack hesitated. “I just… keep expecting it.”
Something in his voice made Simon’s chest tighten.
On the island, people disappeared all the time. Into the trees. Into the dark. Into fear. Simon understood the feeling of waiting for someone to be gone.
"I'm still here," he said Jack nodded once.
The lamp beside the bed cast a soft circle of light around them. Beyond it, the room was shadowed and quiet.
Jack's hand shifted slightly on the blanket, stopping between them. Not touching. Just there.
Simon looked down at it. Then, after a moment, he moved his own hand the rest of the way.
Jack's fingers tightened around his immediately.
They both went still. It was such a small thing. And somehow it felt larger than anything either of them had said.
Jack let out a slow breath. "You know what's strange?"
"What?"
"I'm not afraid right now." Simon looked at him. Jack stared at their joined hands as if he didn't quite believe them.
"I don't remember the last time that happened." For a long moment, Simon didn't answer. Then he said softly, "Neither do I."
Jack finally looked up. Their faces were only a few inches apart now. Close enough that Simon could see the constellation of freckles across Jack’s face. Close enough that Jack could see Simon wasn't pulling away.
"Simon.."
A pause
“You look so pretty”
Simon could feel his face getting hot, Jack leaned forward just slightly, as though giving him time to stop it. Simon didn't.
The kiss was brief. Careful. Not desperate or dramatic-just quiet, like the rest of the night.
When they pulled apart, neither moved very far. Jack's expression had gone completely unreadable. "Was that a mistake?" he asked.
Simon shook his head. "No."
Jack looked at him for another second, as if waiting for Simon to change his answer. He didn't.
Something in Jack's shoulders loosened then, a tension Simon hadn't realized he was carrying.
That earned the faintest smile from Simon. Jack looked relieved to see it. For a while after that, they simply stayed where they were, hands still linked between them.
No more explanations. No promises. Just the quiet understanding that whatever this was, it belonged to the empty school, the winter vac, and the space they only seemed able to find when no one else was around.
Eventually the lamp flickered lower. Jack's eyes were already beginning to close. "Tomorrow they come back," he murmured.
Simon nodded.
"Yeah."
A pause.
Then Jack, almost asleep: "Don't tell anyone."
Simon looked at him for a moment. "I won't."
Jack's grip loosened as sleep finally pulled him under.
Simon stayed awake a little longer, listening to the wind and the steady sound of Jack breathing beside him.
Then he closed his eyes too. And for one last night before the world returned, neither of them dreamed of the island.