"Don't tell me the truth

Tell me that it didn't happen

There's been a mistake

There's been a misunderstanding."

..

"Hey," Jack jumped slightly at the sudden callout. He had been watching Roger since the other boy was told to go to sleep. His blue eyes moved to Roger's face only to see the opened black eyes that were unusually hazy. Sweat rolled down Roger's forehead, his black hair stuck to his skin, his breath was abnormally short and quick.

Jack put his hand on the other's forehead, the heat was unbearable.

"I can't sleep." Roger continued. His voice was smaller than it usually was, not that he was normally loud anyway.

The simple words had such a great impact on Jack that it took him a while to get his thoughts back to its coherent state again. He knitted his eyebrows together, his hand left Roger's forehead.

"You.." He started, his thoughts once again scattered all over the place. "Maybe want to go for a walk? Maybe that'll help."

Roger nodded, and Jack helped him up. He was oddly gentle, as if the boy he was touching was the most delicate being on the planet. Roger tripped and fell after a short while. Jack said nothing, not even a humiliation, what he did more than usually. He silently crouched and waited for Roger to wrap his arms around his neck, then wrapped his arms around Roger's legs and pulled them forward. Jack stood up, making sure that his companion was secured on his back before starting to walk again. The swelling, infected wound on the back of Roger's palm was in front of his face, the wound he himself created.

"This is a little selfish, but.." A small murmur, silent as the wind around them, echoed in Jack's ears, "can you carry me like this until I fall asleep?"

Jack's head went up and down slightly. He began to stroll along the beach, his mind wandering somewhere else off the island. What he was doing reminded him of what he had done some time ago; he could not remember exactly when, but it was something that happened recently. He was also carrying Roger like this, through the jungle, back to Castle Rock. The feeling of having something he treasured so much on his back and knowing it might disappear forever was unpleasant. It made him weak, and chiefs were not supposed to be weak. He resented those feelings. He resented the butterflies futtering in his stomach every time he saw that one that he cherished the most. He resented the way his blood boil under his skin when he got jealous. Maybe if he had not experience those feelings, everything would not have ended up like this.

The short and quick breaths of the one on his back tickled his neck. Jack would laugh, normally he would, but he could not at that moment. He kept walking, his mind would drift off every now and then, until he found himself staring at the glittering sky. Never had he wanted the wishes people made upon stars to come true so much. That way, he could wish for everything to reset, and then he could redeem his mistakes.

Mistakes, he had made a lot of them.

"If you were to die tonight, what would you regret not having said the most?" Roger's whisper reverberated in Jack's ears. The boy's quick breaths were like a rhythm. Jack did not want to get accustomed to that repeated pattern. He did not want to accept the fact that the fragile boy on his back might be gone from his life any time.

Jack wanted to be blind, so that he could not see the black hair and eyes anymore. He wanted to be deaf, so that the small whispers and the breath would not reach him. He wanted to be mute, so that he did not have to answer that ever so unsettling question. He wanted to be numb, so that he could not feel the hair tickling his bare back, or the head gingerly lying on his shoulder.

He desperately wanted to be heartless, so that he would not feel these emotions that swept him to his knees.

"Why are you asking that?" Jack gazed at the stars again, silently wishing that Roger was not addressing the fact the he might depart this life earlier than he expected.

"It just popped up, you know." The reply was no more than a quiet murmur. "It's a weird feeling, knowing you might die, and you will. And in that moment, thoughts just keep appearing in your head, like begging for your attention."

Please don't say stuff like that, you're scaring me. Jack said in his head. His grip on Roger's legs were tighter, part to keep the boy secured, part because he really needed to hold on to something to keep going.

"The thoughts are not really that special. They're very random. Maybe they're about not being able to eat enough ice cream, or not being able to reach a high note, or not having the chance to try out those weird festival food, or not having the chance to confess something, or not having spoken enough, or–" Roger stopped midway, a warm drop of liquid rolled down his cheek and fell on Jack's shoulder. His body was shaking relentlessly on Jack's back.

It was one of those times when Jack really wished that he was emotionless.

"Don't say things like that. You're scaring me." Jack clenched his jaw, trying not to let the tears escape. The stars above were still illuminating the dark sky, as if the wishes they were supposed to grant would ever come true.

"Sorry."

The silence returned, along with the waves' noisy crashes into the shore and the sorrowful cries of the cicadas. Jack reached the platform, where they used to have assemblies, and where all of them first met. He ran his tongue across his dry lips, then bit them. He tried to look away from the shelters. Memories of a certain blond boy who would argue with him for an unknown amount of time about the fire flooded his mind. The awareness of the mistakes he had made rushed into him like the waves he was looking at. He inhaled deeply, then exhaled.

"I guess.." His mind was jumbled and his thoughts were a mess, but he forced himself to spit the words out. "If I were to die tonight, I would regret not telling you something important." Jack swallowed, the liquid was about to escape his eyes. "I would regret not telling you about my greatest fear. It's losing you. I'm afraid of losing you, to death, or to anyone. I want you to always be by my side. I hate it, the thought that I might lose you any minute. You're mine, but things–" He paused, pathetically attempting to put himself back together "–things are taking you away from me, and I can't do anything to stop them."

Jack had stopped walking. He stood in front of the old chief's seat, completely giving in to the continuously falling drops of water. He bowed his head, not wanting to look up.

He must have looked pathetic.

"I'll always be by your side." Roger said, his voice sounded like it was breaking. His fists clenched and unclenched. He grimaced, trying to conceal the pain coming from his left chest. He held on to Jack tighter, just like how the other was holding on to him. "I'm your right-hand man and second-in-command, remember? It's those people's jobs to always be with the chief, so I won't go anywhere, promise." The throbbing in his left chest felt like a brutal hand squeezing and punching the organ within.

Jack heard every word, but they only urged his tears to come out more. Roger had promised not to leave him. He promised, so he had to keep it.

Right?

The short and quick breaths stopped tickling Jack's neck. The small and pale hands completely unclenched. The chest touching his bare back was no longer rising and falling. Nothing more was said to him.

"Roger?" Jack shook the other's legs, trying to get some– any sign of life from the boy on his back.

But he promised.

"Roger!"

I won't go anywhere.

"Roger!"

I'm your right-hand man and second-in-command, remember?

"Roger!"

Sorry.

"ROGER! Wake up!"

If you were to die tonight, what would you regret not having said the most?

"Roger, please."

Can you carry me like this until I fall asleep?

"Please."

I can't sleep.

"You promised."

..

He with flame as hair sat down in front of the old chief of the island. His pale blue eyes were red and wet, and his shoulders were ferociously shaking. He tried to lift his head, but could not stand looking the former chief in the eyes. He chuckled silently to himself. The corners of his mouth lifted up just to fall down again. His face paint was smeared on his hair and his lips, and his neck. He stared at the ground, solemn, like a silhouette.

He finally looked up. There were drops of water running down from his eyes, he made small choking sounds, and his lips shook. He mouthed a song, but no sound came out from the space between his lips.

"Ralph," he let out a whisper, small enough for himself to hear, "I fucked up again, didn't I?"

End.