𝐆𝐨𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬

I don't think I could ever describe this specific day without mentally berating myself. A heavy veil of silence splayed over us as we walked side by side. The smell of ocean salt now lingers on our clothes, but we've grown accustomed to it.

No sarcastic bickering, no teenage flirting, no annoyance. For once I can say that the lack of arguing feels... unfulfilling. I've grown so accustomed to always clawing for the last word in speaking with him. It's routine. And you can't just break a routine like it's the new normal all of a sudden! You have to ease out of it. Jack's mere presence is typically enough to send my anger boiling over the side of the rolling pot. But now, the waters are still.

Growing uncomfortable with the change, I open my mouth to say something, but to no avail. Left feeling stumped, I screw my face up absentmindedly as I sort through my thoughts. There's always something to be said, just leaping off the tip of my tongue. My brain is supposed to be on the run to toss me a quick response. Now, the lights are off, and I feel no electric zips through my veins to rile us both up in a heated dispute.

For once, as impossible as it seemed, no form of speech was necessary. God, I thought I wanted this, but now it seemed too good to be true. In the background to parody my thinking, there's the distant rustling sound of wind in the feral jungle. Tropical trees swayed gently, and wind whirled through the patterns of leaves and bushes, it was hypnotic. The ocean breathed as it crept up the moist shore stealthily like some nightmarish creature from the shadows, and pull back in a sigh as light claimed it once more.

My eyes dart to Jack's face. I half expect him to be looking down at me with that affectedly coy smile, only he isn't. As quickly as my glance starts, I swallow hard and rip my eyes away. Is he not gonna say anything? As I am further pestered by the new sweat beading along the rim of my hairline, I rub my hand to my temple as I process what to say. Sighing on this, I run my fingers down through my hair which were immediately blocked by an obstacle of knots. I pause myself, slowly trying to comb it out.

Fed up with the constant tugging, a groan escapes my lips without the means to. I might as well give it up on the appearance of my hair. I allow my arm to limply flop by my side. Jack chuckles at my struggling. I glance at his face, which is smiling softly. 

"What?" I question, unnerved. He pokes out a lower lip and shrugs, raising his hands to prove his innocence before glancing away like something humored him.

As my head turns to the new direction, my face screws up once again in perplexion as that moment ends. Jack veers off to the right, but still keeps close. Why isn't he saying anything??

The sun is beginning to descend slowly behind the distant horizon, making room for its converse friend, known as the moon, allowing it to take over the bright day.

That moment, it seemed as if a bath bomb were dropped. The blue sky dissolved, and burst into the fruitful colors of pomegranate and tangerine. Like pouring a teapot, the reddish haze spilled over the azure sea, changing it's appearance. Golden hour was nearing, as God sent rays of buttery sunlight through the parted cottony clouds.

Trees and mountains start to darken into silhouettes, I've noticed. Tilting my head back towards the sky, my vision is automatically flooded in a white flash. My eyelids pinch as I squint, raising my hand in front of my face -- the shadow of a hand cast across my features.

I turn to my right slightly, not making it known or too obvious. Jack's skin appears amber in the golden light. Despite the infectious rays of the painted sky, his icy eyes only shone brighter, giving a pop of opposing crisp, coolness to his appearance.

His strong jaw blocked light from his upper neck, casting a thin line of shadow. It seemed to give him more depth and dimension to his facial frame. My gaze was unwavering. He didn't turn to me, his eyes locked on the brilliant scene. I looked down to the breathing sea. Under the changing sky, it reflected a blanket of red and orange on the water's surface. Red is such a striking color.

I let out an exaggerated sigh, making Jack snap out of his trance like intended. There's no apparent reason as to why I felt the need to grab his attention, but I feel pleased when I do.

"It's beautiful," I say casually. Not fully hearing my comment, he turns to me, falling out of the zoned-out daze

"Hm?"

"The view -- It's pretty," I repeat flatly with my eyes locked on the rapidly changing sky. I feel his eyes burning on my face.

"Ah. Well, the view I see is prettier," he says sincerely and quietly. I turned to him, confused as to what he said.

"What?"

"I said the view I'm looking at right now is prettier," he spoke a bit louder. His focus was fully on my eyes. My cheeks flared up.

"Ew."

"I'm serious!"

"Shut the fuck up," I roll my eyes and try to leave.

"Why should I?"

"I know what you're doing, Merridew." I laugh. "You already said that you don't think I'm pretty." 

"Oh, come on." He looks at me dumbly. "You know you're pretty."

I feel my brows knit together. 

"You were in the highest clique at your old school, you told me," Jack says. I repress any facial expressions.

"Don't give me any of that, oH bUt yOu sAid- no, because I'm not inflating your ego anymore."

Crossing my arms, I press my lips together in contempt and stare at the ground, rocking back and forth on my feet. 

"Are you done?" 

"No." Jack shakes his head and moves closer; abruptly lifting my chin with his hand, almost rough. I gasp at the movement, and the red flush of my cheeks burn increasingly like a wild fire.

Teasing on the wedge of space between us, Jack stares at me, almost in contemplation as his lively eyes study mine. My heart goes to a halt as he takes a step closer. 

"Don't you get it, Sawyer? I like you. You're fun to listen to. The way we argue, and all."

A word forms on my tongue, but no sound emits. I don't even know how to respond without making a dumbass remark. Suddenly a shiver trickles down my spine as his fingers graze across the base of my neck, and four units of pressure push against my jaw. A breath sucks into my lungs, and holds itself there as he gives me that sultry look.

With the alarms going off in my head screaming, this is wrong, this is wrong! I can't budge.

"I needed to tell you..." his voice trails off. Seeming he had no words left, or that he was at least searching for them. I'm that bridge connecting two sides. My outcome depends on if my conscience chooses to cross it.

"Jack- I can't. We can't." I start to pull away, but he grabs my wrists.

"What are you so afraid of? What is there to run from?" The blonde almost laughs out of plain confusion. His lips being close to mine, he diverts up to my ear and whispers, "Let yourself cave."

"What are you talking about?" The bridge is slowly being crossed, cracking behind me. His facade beams brighter, blinding me to all the wrong. Truthfully, I don't care, and I eat the facade up. I want someone to pull me into trouble -- right in the thick of it.

"I know what you want, Sawyer." An arched finger runs down my smooth cheek. "I know what the both of us want."

My brain's on fire as the two sides of the bridge call me over.

"Just let yourself be free from whatever is holding you back," he coaxes, cupping the base of my neck.

"Forget about college. Forget about your petty high school group. Forget about holding some reputation for yourself. Who do you have to impress here?"

The drums begin rumbling again in a steady rhythm, sounding near my eardrums, but slightly muffled. It's coming from deep within my chest, vibrating my rib cage.

"I don't know how or why." I mutter, staring at his chest. Gently, he lifts my chin to face him.

"I can fix that." The alarms blare louder. "Just let me teach you."

Fuck it. With one arm wrapped possessivly around my waist and a hand on the base of my neck, he pulls me in close in a feverish need. I feel his warm lips press mine as if some pent up energy was finally shattering through a thin glass wall.

There it goes. The bridge is broken, and I'm on the other side. 

With him filling my senses, I dig into myself for a negative reaction from the physical touching, but there's none, and I wish there was. Our lips work together, parting and closing in sync. Jack starts pulling me closer as his fingers grip my waist. He kisses harshly, like I'm his air.

Betraying what my mind is screaming, my own body copies him. Him him him. Jack's fingers explore up the curve of my waist and hips. His desire is overwhelming, yet somehow contagious. The sickness of lust overtakes me -- the third of the seven deadly sins.

I can practically hear Heather Chandler making fun of me, her voice like a whisper in the wind. She says, Oh, Sawyer! Don't give me those wounded words. You know exactly what he is, and you love it. She emphasizes the last two words like it was a sweet syrup on her tongue. Mentally groaning, I shove her away.

Through the smothering touches, Jack roughly pushes against the back of my thigh, bringing me closer to him. And oddly enough, I follow suit, gripping him tighter. It minimizes the space between us. Of course, I can't see anything -- my eyes are closed, but the feeling is clear as ever, hitting every mark, checking off every box. There's little time to breathe - my core tenses, tightening as every fiber flicked on inside me like a light.

He breaks off for a second to study me. I clench my jaw, frustrated that he'd stop. Motivated by hormones, I pull him back in.

"Who are you... and what have you done with Veronica Sawyer?" He breathes heavily between the kissing. Jack's hands explore up my hips again, pushing up my skirt slightly. I keep him from going any further. A feeling of urgency blares louder, but it goes ignored. There's a high on life feeling, but then it all starts dwindling down as quickly as it had all begun.

"I've been here all along," I whisper back finally, controlling my breathing. Suddenly, I'm hit with the realization of what I've just done. 

"I'm sorry. We shouldn't have- I shouldn't have done that." 

The wind flicks a strand of hair over his face. My stomach churns with nausea as I review all that has now been allowed by enacting this. 

"We both want each other." Jack justifies, but concern etches on his face, and he goes serious. 

"You feel it, too... right?" His thumb strokes my cheek gently now.

It's like a list of problems running on an ever lasting conveyor belt. It's my second nature to check it out. Round and round it goes. This will be my next problem.

"Not like this, I don't," I shake my head.

"Maybe I led you on, I... maybe I gave off the wrong idea. I'm sorry. I can't."

Jack scoffs in disbelief, biting his cheek and shaking his head while stating focus on the water to his right.

"It's just... not a good time." Flustered, I rip my hands away from his body.

"Now is as good a time as any for this, I don't understand-" he interjects. I throw my hands up.

"I'm sorry- really, I am. This was a mistake, this was-" he pulls my hands back, forcing me to submit and look up.

Intently staring at me, he questions, "Are you truly sorry, Sawyer? Or are you just telling yourself that?" Jack pauses. "Because those eyes you're giving me are saying something else."

"It's a bit of both." I admit as he teases the small space between our lips. "I don't know what to think."

"Well, don't think," he snaps in a bit of spite, but he catches himself and immediately retracts the statement after noticing the startle on my face.

"We're gonna be okay." The silence falls between us once more. Only this time, it's awkward again. My stomach churns. Why is he acting like this? So sweetly? When is he going to switch up on me again?

This isn't right. Yell at me, make a smart remark, insult me, something.

"You think I'm supposed to fall in love with you now or something?" I grumble while tracing shapes on Jack's skin with delicate fingers. His face screws up like I said something unbelievable.

"We don't have to fall in love, Veronica Sawyer."

I'm so busy staring through him that I don't realize him leaning to press his lips on my neck till he already has. Pulling away, his gold lashes part to reveal his eyes once more. It doesn't feel right, kissing feverishly and running hands over heated bodies without being situated. Being stranded is not situated.

"This only has to be for fun," he says seriously. "Nothing more, nothing less. Kind of like... a mutual agreement."

I open my mouth slightly, searching for a response.

"I..."

My eyes flicker up to his stormy ones. They're filled to the brim with lust, pressing for answers. Wordlessly, I cup his neck and pull him in to press our lips together. That says enough about my answer.

This "mutual agreement" is inevitably decided.

I part away from his lips, just slightly. 

"I still hate your guts."

I feel Jack smirk against my mouth right before we pull apart and look at each other. He's repressing a grin. I purse my lips and glance down at my feet as we are succumbed by silence again, only it feels more awkward than it's ever been.

God must have sent an angel to remind me of some great news, because once I recall it, I take it in my clutches as a one way ticket to freedom. I frantically turn around to pick up my blazer from the sand. Jack raises a brow, annoyed.

"What?"

"I can't believe I forgot this," I go on without giving any context. I can see the confusion take over his expression. Opening up my jacket, I reach inside the hidden pocket and pull out a mini hair brush that folds into a hockey puck shape, and instantly start brushing into through my tangled hair.

Yeah, I'm surprised I forgot about it too.

By this point, a vast night is taking over. Shades of purple, grey, and deep blue are streaked across the sky, resembling feathers. The once fruitful colors are trickling off to oblivion. I stare up at it as the brush slips through my hair.

"Why am I not surprised?" He whispers, almost to himself. I send him a glare, still trying to wrap my mind around what him and I did.

"Jack?" I start, sounding unsure. "Why?"

"Do I need a reason?" He answers huskily. For once, I have nothing to say to him, nothing to retort with. I can't understand it. He made it a point to pester and infuriate me every day we've been here. Did he want it out of frustration, or is it a tactic?

"Do you really not feel anything?" He interrogates, sounding unconvinced. I avoid his gaze.

"Just let me think about it," I grunt through grit teeth.

"Of course," he nods, putting his hands up. "But I know what I want."

I don't know why he feels that way, and I don't even know if it's the truth. Jack grabs my wrist gently to get my attention. I see he's looking up at the colorful view above in a sort of daze. Assuming that's what he wanted me to notice, look up at it too. The moon is a faded pearl in the sky, hardly visible with the sun still out.

"Damn," he sighs, glancing to the side to flash me a charming smile. He's trying to change the mood. Pausing, he looks back up at the sky, but his face falls in concern, making my expression falter in reaction.

"Hey... do you see that?" He questions breathily to no one in particular, looking more intently at the view above us. Confused, I start to scan the sky, veering off to his left.

"What?" I speak up. "What did you see?"

Jack puts a hand behind his head like he was collecting his thoughts. "Something just... flew across the moon!"

I purse out my lower lip and look harder. "Really?" Numb to whatever else was going on, I keep my focus up for any foreign object in the clouds.

"Ahh!" Jack throws his arms around my waist, making my heart stop. I shrieked at his startle, my hands snapping up to my chest. I'm slapped with Jack's vibrant laughter. Recovering quickly from the scare, I clench my jaw and twist myself around, smacking his head. Still snickering, he manages to duck away from the next hit, retreating closer to the tide. I venture into the water, waves sloshing up and slapping my shins in a steady rhythm. Jack meets me half way.

I always told myself that I only wanted to be looked at with love. Not with lust. And here I just agreed to this situationship with Jack.

From dates at 7Eleven and feeding a girl drain cleaner with a guy over a year ago, to a life in paradise with a new one on the beach. Paradise... whatever. Caught off guard again, a spray of salty water hits me as the blonde splashes me. Jack grins at me cheekily, ready to engage in a water fight. I tense up my jaw and splash him more aggressively than he had done to me.

Pleased with what he started, Jack kicks up more water and a salty spray hits my face. I freeze up as it does and my eyes crack open slowly. Jack was getting more satisfaction than I was. Calmly, I walk back up to him.

"Hey, Sawyer!" He crosses his arm cockily. "You comin' over to kiss me again? Or-" I shove him in the gut to throw him off before elbowing his back, knocking him down to the water.

Now, I'm the one that's pleased. I smile and cross my arms in pride as he rises back up, fully drenched with his clothes clinging to his skin. In a swift motion, he rakes his fingers back through the sopping mess of hair plastered to his forehead, sending an arch of water flying. Out of nowhere, he charges me, picking me up. I don't even get a chance to protest before I'm the one getting dunked under.

For a moment, I get clarity. It's like being cleansed of my recent actions. A hum brushes past my ears as the sounds muffle. My hair drifts across my eye line like when the plane first dropped us off. I feel a sense of calmness before he heaves me right back out, and the moment ends.

"Why are you soaking wet?" He says smartly. Scowling, I force a poisonous smile. 

"It's your fault, Merridew." 

"Perfect." 

He opens out his arms and lets himself fall backwards into the water. I watch him distantly, trying to decipher the shameless display. I see him sit up and scramble to the moist shore. He motions for me to come over. Unable to hide my uncertainty, I suddenly get uncomfortable with this foreign friendliness. Crossing my arms over my chest, I start maneuvering over to him.

He lets himself slump to the sand, not a care in the world. Of course he wouldn't have a care. There's no risk for him in this. I don't know if I'm meant to envy it, or take something from it. 

Light allowed darkness to leak in, leaving an open door for night to take over. The final sliver of the sun fully dipped down into the ocean. A grey haze fell over the island. Animals and birds set off for the night to rest. Tropical night bugs came out to frolic, for it was their time to enjoy the island nature.

Soon enough, all that was left was the same black, obsidian sky, streaked with tones of amethyst. Stars trinkled into view, speckling the unforgiving darkness with hope and light. The far away stars resembled sprinkled glitter on black poster board.

"Ready to head back to camp?" Jack suddenly asks, inviting me to go with him as if we're friends. I must've appeared bewildered with his civility. He hated me before, but it makes sense. I'm the only girl he has access to. He has to at least pretend to be on good terms with me to get me willing to do whatever with him.

"I don't know," I stutter out truthfully, trying to gather the cards that have fallen in front of me. Jack jumps up as if he had gotten a spur of energy from my response. 

"Then let's go do something," he insists, yanking my elbow. 

I groan in protest, squeezing my eyes shut to rub my head.

"There's not much to do here, evidently." I point out, peeling my wet skirt off my skin.

"Let's go rinse off in the water hole or river then," Jack coaxes me, giving me the eyes. I sigh and follow him in reluctance, not wanting to put up a fight. I truly need a good wash.

My shoes squelched with every step, and I took them off once I was fed up. We both eye the distant campfire as we went in the opposite direction. Entering the treeline, I don't get far without my back being pressed up against a tree. He looks down at me, pinning my arms and biting his lip.

I can't imagine that he'd be so willing to carry out this "thing" that we agreed to so soon. Now?? I'd at least need to get to know him slightly better. I'm not that kind of person. 

"Can you not?" I shove him off, making him laugh. 

"Just figured you'd be wanting to engage in this friends-with-benefits thing we have going on," Jack explains. I continue walking in a determined stride. 

"I'd rather you'd not refer to us as 'friends'," I answer pointedly, not looking at him.

The small water hole glittered under the moonlight, and it looked cold. Jack can be seen out of the corner of my eye slipping off his coat. Staring into the water, I open my mouth and turn to Jack so I could remark its beauty, but I gasp and snap my head away.

"Oh, my God!" I exclaim in surprise, my hand covering the side of my face. Jack had already half-stripped to his under garments. "Can you be a bit more decent?! Jesus Christ."

"What?" Jack challenged. "I'm about to go swimming. Are you that much of a prude? Plus you practically agreed to this." 

I refuse to look back in his direction like he was Medusa despite the fact that he was still covered.

"You're half naked. Get in the damn water before I slug you." I say through a clenched jaw as my patience was wearing thin. I hear him chuckle and a loud splash follows. In fact, I don't turn around until I'm sure I can hear him treading water.

"We've already gone swimming together," Jack reasons. My head is in his direction, but I don't look at him to somehow prove a point. 

"So?" I hiss, not having a better response. I finally lay eyes on the blonde. He's doing laps back and forth, slicing through the water. I watch him-- the way the silver light of the moon dances across his muscled back. 

"Are you coming in?" 

Grumbling, I slip off my blazer and drop it to soak in the freshwater. Then goes my shoes and socks. Sitting on the edge and my feet wading in, I work the clothing items against a clean rock to get out the dirt and grime. Glancing up, I can see Jack staring at me with an arched brow. I look back down.

"Yes?" I can hear him swim over, like he took my word as an invitation. I actually expect him to rest his elbows on the rocks, but I jump back to see him appear in front of me. His military dog tags rest on his bare chest, now both on the same chain. 

"Just checking in on you," he grinned, and rests his elbows on my knees. Cold water dripped down the exposed part of my legs that didn't reach the water.

"Would you mind backing up a bit?" I blink at him, thinking he'd take the hint. Poking out his lower lip, Jack shakes his head wordlessly.

I accept the score and shove his head back, knocking him under. Pleased, I continue my work, but he quickly appears again, resting his crossed arms on my thighs to stay afloat.

"Not till you get in," he says simply. I ignore him and keep finishing my "laundry" work.

Not accustomed to being ignored, Jack bobbed up to unpin my brooch from my shirt and back stroked away a few feet. My eyes glance up at him, but I can at least recognize it was for attention, and he was actually looking at it like it became half interesting. I lay my blazer, shoes, and socks on a higher rock to dry. Crossing my arms, I sigh and lean over to prop my elbows on my knees.

While Jack was swimming in the background, I swirl my feet in the water, enchanted by how the gentle moonlight danced across the water's surface.

Soon enough, Jack comes back over to hand me my brooch back. I purse my lips and go to retrieve it, but suddenly it slipped from his hand into the water.

"Jack!" I shout, straightening up to scan the murkiness. A broad grin told me that something was up his sleeve. Sure enough, his opposite hand that was under the pool's surface had caught it smoothly.

"You're easy," he laughs. I pause, trying to investigate a double meaning in his words. He relents, giving the item to me for real. I take it to place it on the rock.

"It's my mom's brooch," I inform him. "So, yeah. It's easy to get a reaction over a belonging of her's."

Jack grabs my hands, unfolding them and pulling gently. It caught me off guard as I had my elbows resting. "What?" I ask softly.

"Aren't you coming in?" He asks eagerly. I glance up past him and buzz my lips in thought. "Sure, but turn around," I instruct.

He cocks his head to the side in question. "Why?"

"Because I need to take off my clothes to wash and dry them, so turn around."

Jack raises his hands in defense and does so. I eye him harshly, first slipping off my shirt, then the pleaded skirt, but I make the risky choice to take off my shorts before quickly sliding into the water. An atmosphere of ice engulfs me, making me suck in a gasp. Hearing that I made it in, Jack turned back around to look at me. Suddenly self-cautious, I folded my arms over my chest.

"What?" I attempt to call out his intense gaze. Jack swims closer.

"You wouldn't like my answer."

I strain my jaw and roll my eyes. "Nothing you say surprises me anymore," the words falls loosely through my lips. "Try me."

"Okay," Jack sighs, raising his hands in pseudo-surrender. "I am merely jealous that I am not the cause of your state."

My upper lip curls in disgust as I splash him in the face. He takes it without flinching back.

"You are absolutely vile, Jack Merridew."

"You're alright, Veronica Sawyer."

He stares at me longer than necessary before peeling his eyes away, laughing and shaking his head -- I don't know what to make of that. But his eyes quickly rest on me once more as if he never looked away. I do as promised, scrubbing the sand from my white shirt with my hands. I can feel Jack watching me, so I try my best not to mind it until it gets to my head.

"My eyes are up here, Jackass." I snap my fingers at him. Groaning, I lower further into the water.

"I don't need an anatomy lesson," his crooning voice travels over the water. It feels as if my airways have been glued shut. I can never escape the confides of his stare.

"You're doing that thing with your eyes again," he speaks up. "When you're super concentrated." 

"You're the observant one, aren't you?" 

I can hear him scoff.

"What's your deal?" He asks. "You were calling me bipolar but now you're acting all short after getting super comfy on the beach."

His hand wraps around my wrist, making me stop my work. I look up at him, glowering. 

"Do you even know what your deal is?" He asks honestly.

I lift my chin. "Yes, I do. That's for me to know, and you to mind your business. I don't owe you an explanation." At that, I focus back on my shirt.

"Yes, you do owe me one," he grabs my wrist. The unsolicited contact makes another flush of angry heat surge in my gut. 

"Stop grabbing me like that!" I yell, talking with my chest. Out of spite, he takes my wrist again.

"Not until you tell me what the issue is."

Gripping my button up shirt, I slam it down, making a small splash. 

"We kissed! Okay? That's the issue! And for some reason; I've agreed to be your side-thing." As hastily as possible, I lay it out to dry and move onto my blazer. Clenching his jaw, Jack, takes my blazer and holds it behind his back.

"Would you mind elaborating, Vera?" I lunge to take it back, but I stop, realizing that it's pointless. 

"Are you afraid you're feeling something for me?" He questions smoothly. I scoff, because it truthfully isn't my reason.

"Don't be so full of yourself," I grumble sourly, ignoring the disgusting shivers crawling up my spine. He makes me feel so whoreish without even trying. Turning away, I get a bit of whiplash as he immediately grabs my chin to make me face him. 

"I know what to be wary of," I bite back without context, using much more force. Jack relinquishes his hold on my face. Brushing past, I start swimming to the other side of the water hole.

Jack remains in the same spot, but throws my blazer to me. It lands in the surface of the water, so I thrash over to retrieve it before it could sink. Taking my chance, I continue where I left off with washing my clothes.

"Just- figure out whatever it is you need to figure out." Jack says to me from the other side. I pause, but quickly continue again. 

"I will." Balling up my blazer, I wave to grab his attention.

"Would you mind putting this on that rock to dry?" I ask civilly, and chuck it over to him. Jack catches it and does as I ask without any gripe. I took one of the pine cone gingers from a pile and lathered it in my hands. Leaning my head back, I start working my fingers through my hair, scrubbing out all the sand and grime that clings to me. My eyes closed softly to take in the peace -- chest deep, standing on a rock to lean back.

My blood runs cold to feel another pair of hands tangling themselves in my hair, but I calm down when I remember it's only Jack. My eyes crack open to see him from behind, looking down at me. 

"What're you doing?" 

"Making sure you don't drown yourself over here," he mumbles back. 

"You must've sensed me contemplating suicide," I half-joke dryly. I can feel him playing with my hair as it flows through the water. Oddly enough, I adjust to keep my back to him so he can keep playing with my hair. I mean, it's no harm, and it keeps him quiet. Nothing wrong with that, right? Taking a breath, I dip my head under water and sit back up -- my head feels heavy from being weighed down by sopping hair.

"Is there any more sand?" I question Jack, looking over my bare shoulder. He studies me for a moment. 

"No, I don't think so."

Turning my head away, I press my lips together, tangling my fingers in thought. Jack's chest meets my back -- a chill runs down my spine as he pushes my hair over to one shoulder, his fingers grazing my neck softly. I shiver at the feeling. Melting off my shoulder, his fingers trail lines down my arms. While it was intoxicating, I stop this from escalating by turning around to look at him head on.

"Can you tell me if I scraped up my back earlier today?" His low voice floats and curls around my ears like smoke. I nod, unable to find my voice, and he turns around. The dewy moonlight catches his broad shoulders and back, sculpted, every muscle shifting under his skin like a sheet stretched over moving water. My heart thuds in an uninvited and deafening rhythm as I take him in.

Then, I can see it. Near his right shoulder is a line red line carved down a few inches with a few other scrapes here and there. His back flexes in surprise, tugging against the cut as I lay a cool hand on his skin. I feel his muscles ripple against my palm. 

"What happened?" I ask him softly. 

"Oh, you know," he sighs with a clipped voice. "I took a tumble earlier, I guess, stepping over the rock drop-off." 

"Smooth," I murmur dryly, tracing slow, deliberate lines across his skin, feeling him flinch at each touch. He said he liked me, for whatever reason. Still, I wonder if that's a ploy. A ploy to push my better reasoning aside to agree to this situationship. 

"I think I'm getting tired." I pull myself away from him, trying to elicit something that can prove my suspicions otherwise. I'd like to be wrong here. Jack shrugs and starts swimming away a few feet. 

"If you want, you can go back, but I'm swimming a while longer."

My face stiffens up. It's the answer I anticipated. My arms fold over my chest.

"Aren't you getting cold?" I pretend to be unbothered. Jack's head pops back up from the water. He shakes his head, flinging water from his blonde hair.

"Nah, the cold doesn't bother me."

I purse my lips, gritting my teeth subtly as he goes back to what he was doing. Struggling to keep a neutral face, I try another attempt. 

"Well, aren't you gonna walk back with me?"

"I just told you I'm still swimming," he answers without looking over. "Didn't you need to let your clothes dry anyway? You'll be freezing if you put on soaking clothes this late."

Inhaling, I force myself to relax my jaw and I divert my focus. 

"I don't wanna hold you back from doing what you wanna do," he says nonchalantly. "I was just pointing it out."

Test failed.

Despite that, I sit down on a rock which was under water, making me chest deep again. 

"No, no... you're right I guess..." I trail off, still eyeing him.

"My jacket's dry if you wanna wear it to walk back to camp. It covers you." He offers me, pretty much sounding sincere.

I blink, unable to decipher if it's genuine and think of a quick response. 

"No, no. That's okay." I insist, swallowing hard. Jack laughs and looks at me.

"Veronica. If you wanna go back, you can. It's fine." He says before dipping back under the surface. My face grows hot in both excitement and anger. Of course he used his 'emotional confession' as a ploy to make me agree to this situationship. Should I be glad to be right in this scenario? 

"No, it's fine. I'm fine." I hop back up onto a rock to let my feet wade in the water.

"My clothes need to dry anyway." It's getting cold now. Jack swims over to me, resting an elbow on the edge, and sighs.

"Look, do you really want me to walk you back?" He looks at me knowingly. I stop to think. Is this part of his manipulation, or does he truly see the wrong in his first response? Do I even want to accept the breadcrumbs of kindness? 

"No. I'm cold, and my clothes are wet. I can't walk back in them." Even though we literally have a fire back at camp. 

Jack bites his inner cheek and notices my thighs and arms, and the goosebumps littering across them. He ran a finger gingerly over my skin and glanced up at me, illiciting a warmth in me.

"Okay, how about this," he starts off a compromise promptly. "You can stay up here-" he lifts me out of the water onto dry land before dipping back in. "And you can warm up with my jacket--" he receives said jacket before draping it over me -- "and I'll swim while your clothes dry. Deal?"

I show a forced, tight-lipped smile and nod curtly. At the agreement, he pushes off the edge to keep swimming. Once his back is to me again, my fake smile drops into a scowl and I roll my eyes. 

Slipping my arms through his sleeves, I watch him move through the pool. I can't decipher anything about him; what's real and what's not.

"Tell me another story while we wait." Jack breaks the silence, leaving no room for argument. I buzz my lips in boredom.

"I can't think of one," I answer, my words flattened by disinterest for speaking on my own life.

"Then tell me anything about that little group of yours," he says impatiently. I think about the polls Heather and I did at lunch all the time. Nothing exactly thrilling, but I don't get time to think about it harder as Jack loudly clears his throat, prompting me to spill. 

"So, me and Chandler would walk around the cafeteria and have these people answer polls," I explain, pausing to see if Jack was paying attention.

"I'm listening." He calls over. I bite my tongue and peel my eyes away from his toned form doing laps back and forth. 

"So- we had a pretty stupid question, but one of the polls were; you win five million dollars in the publishers sweepstakes, and the same day that whatshisface gives you the check, aliens land on Earth and say they're gonna blow up the world in two days. What do you do with the money?"

Jack stops at one end of the natural pool and leans back against a rock. 

"That's one freaky ass question. Stupid like you said." I smile softly at his kidding tone, unsure of how to react. "I think I'd slide that wad over to my father," Jack answers confidently.

I nod, looking back down as my fingers tangle together. He throws the question back at me. 

"What would you use it for?"

I pause, remembering someone's answer back from high school. "I think I'd use it for an end-of-the-world get together."

"You would use it for that," Jack remarks sarcastically. My eyes drift left to right as he continues doing laps in the water. Swallowing, I force myself to look away with a feeling that I was in trouble. I fiddled with my rings in silence, not really sure what to say.

"Vera, I can hear the gears in your head clicking and turning from here. Give it a rest."

His incredibly charismatic voice broke the tepid air. I sucked my cheeks in with partial embarrassment.

"Jack?"

"Yes, ma'am?" He hums, preoccupied. I feel my eye twitch at his way of addressing me, and I fold my knees up to my chest and hug his coat tighter around my body.

"I need an opinion," I trail off. "So- let's say something bad happens. Like something really horrible and you played a part in it. We have human instincts, so is it so bad to change the truth?" I say softly enough that Jack had to stop swimming so he could hear me.

"What are you trying to ask?" Jack arches a brow. I readjust my position, huffing out a sigh.

"Well -- humans are inherently evil, so we have instincts whether or not we want them there."

Jack sets his jaw in thought. 

"Sawyer, everyone has a bit of good and bad, but we have the freewill to choose what side to act on."

I frown, unsatisfied with his response. 

"What if whoever else was involved in that horrible situation... what if they coerced you to twist it? Are you still just as at fault?"

He stops again to look at me with perplexion all over his face. 

"Why are you asking me this?"

Truthfully, I don't know why I'd ask Jack of all people. Maybe it's because I know he'll choose the side that's not so morally truthful. Maybe I just know it will make me feel less guilty for some things. The easier way is pretty, but the right way feels pretty ugly. That's how life goes.

"You should probably defend yourself. Good and bad. We all have it. But some people have less or more of either."

"What do you choose to act on?" I query. Jack chuckles and leans against the rocks on the opposite side of the waterhole. 

"Am I a treat to you, Veronica Sawyer?"

I think about how Jack acted when I first met him, how he talks to people smaller than him, and how he treats Piggy. Either way, none of it can compare to my sins.

I remember telling my mom, all we want is to be treated like human beings, not some hesitant spectacle. She seemed taken aback and told me stand up straight before responding with, treated like human beings? Is that what you said, little miss voice of the generation?

Her voice stays in the back of my mind, like a distant echo, forever unfading. Just how do you think adults act with other adults? She asked me.

You think it's all a game of doubles tennis? When teenagers complain that they want to be treated like human beings, it's usually because they *are* being treated as such.

I can't complain about being human, nor can I fathom the consequences of being a human being.

"The Devil has a sick sense of humor - I'm sure you'll learn, Vera." Jack lets out a hefty sigh. A dry laugh resonated in my throat.

"Not really."

His cryptic gaze lasers onto me as I chew my lip in thought. It's like the story of Job. A legend which showcases a prosperous man of remarkable piety.

"Jack," I begin, treading lightly with my words. 

"The Devil is said to have acted as an agent provocateur to test Job's devotion - to decipher whether it was rooted in prosperity. To see if he'd maintain faith in God."

I have vague memories of hearing about this in church as a kid, and since I decided to explore my own values, I did research on these things. Jack studied me intently as I kept speaking.

"Despite facing the loss of everything he possessed, his family, health, prosperity... Job remained a God-fearing man. So who takes the blame for Job's suffering?"

Jack seems to scoff as if the answer was a no-brainer. 

"The Devil, of course," he chuckles.

"No." I shake my head stoically. "It was God who commanded the Devil to take everything from Job. He allowed Satan to inflict the suffering. All to challenge his faith. He let the Devil whisk away his family and rob him of all his belongings, even though he was a righteous man. Isn't that a sick sense of humor?"

I stare at Jack seriously. The blonde looks slightly dismantled.

"You're interpreting it wrong. God was testing the strength in his faith." Jack justified. I tilted my head slightly.

"God is the one who permitted Satan to do this. According to religion, Satan is only present only because God allows-"

"- A Devil exists in every religion," Jack interrupts. "There has to be a heaven and a God to make it right, no?"

I squint at Jack, not quite incredulously.

"Is he not powerful enough to banish all that suffering away? If he is worried about people not being devoted, can't he just make them be, so they don't have to suffer for it anyway? Shouldn't he love us enough to save us from the world's evils? I thought he was able to see the root of our pain."

Jack is frowning now. "How far have you gotten with that pessimistic thought process, Vera?"

"That raises the next question for debate - Do we blame God, or his own creation?" I counter what Jack was saying.

"You're not religious?" Jack finally quizzes. I shrug and look back down into the water. 

"I dunno what to call myself," I admit.

"Even if I say I'm not, I still find myself talking to him like it'll do anything. Desperate times call for desperate measures. It's stupid."

The words marinate in the tense air. Jack watches me with a stone face and a gaze of melted iron.

"It's not stupid, Vera."

"I used to be religious, but now I just... question it. I question the logistics of it all. There's too many loose ends and unanswered questions. I don't get it. It's too unfathomable."

I loll my head to the blonde. Jack is now staring ahead, zoned out and clearly deep in thought.

"You still there?" I check on him.

"Yeah, I'm here." Jack answers softly. "It's just that- it's much more than that, and what all you're saying," he argues vaguely.

"Just because the Bible doesn't have all the answers to your questions, that doesn't lower its credibility. Sure, it's unfathomable to you. It's not supposed to be something that we can fully grasp."

"So what are you saying?"

"I'm saying you're being a hypocrite." Jack said bluntly. "How you so easily put faith in scientists, but are skeptical of religion, just because it's something you can't see, and because it's something you're not being spoon fed directly."

I know better about life now. There's are much stronger forces of evil than the fables of malicious demonic entities and a little red man with horns and a tail, but my gaze remains unsteady.

"Why would we be left with the book if there were holes in its stories that could allow someone to question it?" I ask him genuinely.

Jack looks at me with a humored, gauging expression. 

"Do you, Ms. Know-it-all, trust history books?"

I look at him with uncertainty. 

"Of course I do. It's historical record. There's proof."

"But do those books have every little detail? Do we still know everything about our history? Surely there's some events that got lost in time which we don't know the answers to."

"Well, yes, but-"

"The Bible is a historical document," Jack cuts me off. "Jesus Christ was a real historical figure."

"Yes, Jack, he was a historical figure," I confirm. "But there's no documentation of his resurrection that isn't biblical."

"Just because there's stuff missing in our history books, doesn't mean those events never happened. That's the same for the Bible."

I suck my tongue to the roof of my mouth. I don't have much of a response.

"Jack..." I say slowly, a faint bend of caution on my face. "I hope you're not taking any of this as me being disrespectful."

The blonde chuckles to himself. I watch him push off the rocky ledge, going back and forth across nature's pool.

Jack's pleasant voice rings out, "You do realize there's been archaeological structures to prove the events of the Bible, right?" 

"You mean by Ron Wyatt?" I raise a brow. "No offense, Jack, but they call him a pseudo-archaeologist for a reason. He's a conman."

"He found Noah's Ark in the Durupinar site," he insists.

"That's another myth, Jack."

We both stay quiet as the words settle down like sediment falling to the bottom of a fish tank. I can only hear the faint splashes of water, and I know Jack is internally denying my claim.

"And another thing-" I add as something else pops into my mind. "Many of the sins that are in the Bible -  people, including most Christians - everyone still commits them. There are endless contradictions."

"We're all sinners, Veronica." Jack's smooth voice stabbed the shaky air. "We ain't perfect. I'm a sinner, you're a sinner... everyone is, but Jesus died for our sins. We were provided with the gift of forgiveness. God is good."

"I don't grasp that either." I interject. "How someone can claim to be Christian after committing horrible acts, and still go to heaven, but someone who is queer can go to hell if they don't 'ask for forgiveness'? Were we not created in God's image?"

"Course' we were," Jack chips. "Like I said, we all sin, but we can be forgiven. Repentance is deeper than just being like, I'm sorry, can I be forgiven?  You have to truly mean it. I doubt that many of the truly evil people have the capacity to feel regret."

I swallow and glance to the side, down into the sparkly water.

"The prospect of evil wasn't just magically released from a confinement one day, like a firefly from a mason jar. It's been a part of us since the beginning of time. It wasn't created, Jack."

He has a distant look in his eyes, faraway in thoughts. I was even consumed in my own mind.

"I question the metaphysical for a number of reasons. That's why I know we're all born evil. It's intertwined in our DNA, like a second nature. But it's more prominent in others, like Bundy and Dahmer. And sometimes... I fear it's weaseled its way into me."

"You're talking in tongues, Sawyer," Jack's boisterous laughter runs over my words. I exhale in somewhat defeat. He denied all I said in a clipped tone.

"We all have good and bad in us, because God gave us those flaws. We're meant to make mistakes. He gave us the freewill. Freewill to make choices with ourselves. Whatever we choose to act on is what determines who we are. Cross that line into bad, if you so wish."

Jack repels off the rocks and continues swimming.

"You don't have to turn away because you're afraid of God - you don't have to be," he said casually. I shake my head indifferently.

"I'm not afraid of God," my words come without a beat. "I'm afraid of man."

I chew my lip in contemplation once more, creating permanent dents in the fleshy skin. His words and my words mangled together like crocheted yarn. All different colors with different views. Buzzing my lips, I slump back and observe the laps he swims, letting my mind stew on it all.

♕︎♕︎♕︎

Prolonged buckets of time later, Jack emerges up out of the water, droplets cascading down his toned body. I glance at him and stand up.

"You can keep using my jacket," he says quietly. I feel my forehead tense as my brows narrow at this foreign kindness. It's not satisfactory after his previous difficulty. 

I bite down any thankful response and let it hang from my elbows. As we get dressed, he starts rambling away about hunting.

"You know how we've seen some wild boar out here?"

"Pigs?" I arch a brow. "Yes, I've heard."

He ran his fingers through his hair in a tedious attempt to wring the water out. "That means we can have meat," he says, his face lighting up at the word. "I'm gonna start a group of hunters."

The seriousness makes me laugh. Bunch of teenage boys with sticks. Can you imagine that? Jack hands me my still damp blazer. 

"So I've heard... many times," I smile, flashing my eyes.

"Would you ever come along?"

I quickly shake my head as the last word is said. 

"No way. The blood, the trial and error. It's a no."

Jack lifts his hands like he crossed a boundary. "Okay. Okay. It was only a question."

As we gather our things, Jack nods to the treeline where the beach was. 

"We can dry off by the fire." He takes my elbow to help me over the slick rocks the sit further up the incline.

"I'm fine," I quickly insist. He huffed a chesty laugh and sized me up. 

"I'm sorry that you're so uncoordinated, but just know I accept you for who you are." Jack's honey-covered words drip smoothly. 

My head snaps over to him indignantly. Recomposing myself, I plaster my face with a sneering smile. 

"I'm sorry that you're a lowlife, delinquent whose only claim to fame is who you are within your presumptuous boarding school that your daddy's money paid for, but just know that I in fact do not accept you for who you are." I end my quote with a sickly sweet smile, and pursue up the rocky stoop. 

"Been touching up on your comebacks for this main-character complex you have goin' on, huh?" Jack's voice floats behind me. 

"Please touch up your roots."

"My hair color is natural, thanks." Jack appears at my side. 

"Oh, I'm sure," I nod, poking out my lower lip. I can feel my chest tightening from the rush of an argument. Too preoccupied with my arguments, I feel the toe of my shoe catch on a protruding root, making me stumble forward before catching myself on a tree. Wordlessly, I feel Jack's hand grab my elbow to steady me. In faint panic, I adjust my stance and speed up in an attempt to recover from that embarrassing hiccup.

"Don't touch me," I mutter. Jack makes a sound of amusement behind me. 

"Sorry, I forgot you're a savior feminist who absolutely refuses any help." 

"Not true," I respond. "I don't need your help." The statement emphasizes itself. The blonde only makes another grumbled remark before leaving it at that, and I hide my struggle at navigation in the dark. 

I know he's doing this because he has the realization that if I am ever going to remotely comply with him, he needs to try to get on good terms. Otherwise he knows our situationship won't ever happen. Maybe just being here is fucking with our heads. Humans need compassion to stay sane after all. This just acting on those needs, though I never ever thought of myself as one to act on them like this. 

As we approach the orange glow of fire with speckles of boys sitting around in a chatter, I start shrugging off the coat to hand to Jack.

"You can keep wearing it, remember?" 

Shooting him a look that says shut up, I shove it closer to him, forcing it in his hands.

"What?" Jack lashes. I make us slow our place as a few boys take notice of our near presence. 

"I don't want them to suspect anything!" I hiss. Jack buzzes his lips and waves a dismissive hand.

"Come on, Vera. Suspect what?"

Flashing my eyes wider, I don't get to respond as we're now among the boys. A few heads turn over, then Robert sees us and waves his hand high and enthusiastically.

Noticing the gesture, Tony looks over and exclaims, "Glad y'all could finally make it."

Jack and I go rigid as all focus laser beams on us. So much for trying to slip in low-key. Forcing a tight lipped smile, I clasp my hands out in front of me and veer off to the right of the circle.

"Where've you two been?" Ralph stands up, the concern is plastered on his face. He isn't fumingly angry, but stern as ever with his big military voice. It makes me flinch. Not like he intimidates me, but because now we're the spectacle of every gaze, and I feel like a child who's in trouble. Diverting my focus, my eyes land on Roger who has a large fruit in hand, carving a design into the wide surface of it with his knife. His thumb coolly pushes the blade with little effort, shaving off little shreds of the pulpy flesh. 

"We were on a walk," Jack grumbles bitterly, walking the same direction as me. "Lose sleep over it, why don't ya?"

Samneric are sitting cramped next to each other, shoulder to shoulder, even though there's no one occupying the space on either side of them. However uncomfortable it appears, they don't seem bothered in the slightest. As I acknowledge the two, I make eye contact with one of the twins. He quickly taps his brother's arm for his attention. I see them whisper something and nod in conclusion.

"Why is your hair wet?" The opposite twin questions me in an obnoxious volume.

"If you couldn't tell, there's a whole ocean off to your left if you'd open your eyes," Jack retorts rudely, gesturing widely to the said ocean. A few boys snicker into their hands, and both Sam n' Eric glance at each other. I have a seat by Rapper, who is unfortunately quite close to Roger and Luke.

"I thought you were a prude," Luke whispers, impressed like I've defied a false thought. I look at him, puzzled. Roger chuckles through his nose, and Luke goes on. 

"I guess all prudes are whores at heart. You just gotta awaken it."

My head snaps back towards him, and I can feel a fist tightening.

"Sorry, Luke? I couldn't hear you over the idiocy in the air from the peanut gallery." I say loudly to drown out other giggles. 

"What's up?" Jack butts in. Luke casually goes back to his business, and Roger holds one more long stare, aggressively hacking away shreds of wood from the pointed spear and looks away, too.

As dignified as possible, I promptly turn my attention to Jack and say, "It's nothing, Jack," in an obviously rigid tone. At that, I move seats haughtily, sitting near Samneric who are finding more interest in a hermit crab scurrying over their hands.

The twins seem to get at each other's throats more often than usual, likely due to the fact that there is a lack of activities to keep them occupied. It doesn't come as a surprise to me.

"How about I tell another scary story?" Jack suggests to ease some tension. A few of the boys cheer in response, pleading even, while some of the others make frightful faces. 

"Keep it PG," Ralph demands dryly. "Too many scared kids last time." 

"No promises, Chief," Jack answers with a calm simper. "Plus, that last one was tame."

"The ones you told at school weren't." 

"Oh, whatever," the blonde brushes off dismissively. "Anyway, everyone listen up." 

The students perk their ears and get situated for comfort, leaning in as Jack clears his throat.

"This story is about a retired woman who lived in the woods by herself. She had no neighbors or family nearby- nothing out for miles. Just complete isolation. She liked it that way. She had the company of her dog."

"- Oh, come on!" One of the twins cries out in exasperation. 

"It was a late night. She was having some troubles sleeping. The woman could get anxious sometimes, and sometimes that meant she became a bit of an insomniac. To ease her worries, she let her hand hang over the side of the bed so that her dog would lick it - This made her feel comfortable knowing that he was there to keep her safe." 

I already feel the amusement edging up my throat. I'm well aware of this old urban legend, but it seems that the younger boys are not.

"At some point in the night, she woke up and heard her dog crying. She let her hand down again to comfort him, and her loyal companion went quiet as he licked her hand. The woman fell back asleep. Later on, she awoke once more. On this particular night, there was a dripping sound, telling her that it was raining. Not the stormy kind she could fall asleep to, not even just a light drizzle, but such a faint patter that it became a nuisance. It was continuously waking her up. Frustrated and unable to relax, she let her hand down for her dog to lick again." 

My eyes sweep over the boys. I can see some of the older ones snickering away, observing the well-invested younger ones. I sigh and shake my head, waiting for the end. 

"The next morning, the woman woke up and was instantly stumped. Normally her dog would wake her up much earlier, begging to be fed or to be let out, but there was no sign of him this morning. She stretched and stood up, whistling for him a few times, expecting him to patter in. Nothing. She brushed it off and started to walk to her bathroom when a familiar sound caught her ears. The dripping."

The eyes of the boys flash around to look at each other, but they don't share any speculation. Instead, they lean in closer, soaking up Jack's story. 

"She entered her bathroom, annoyed when she realized she must've left the sink on, and that's what she was hearing all night. Ripping open the shower curtain, she sees her dog hanging by its neck, midsection slashed open with its guts and intestines spilling out- his jaw was unhinged. The woman immediately stumbled back, horrified and devastated to see that her loyal pet was brutally killed. His blood was steadily dripping onto the shower floor- Drip... Drip... Drip..."

Jack imitates the actions with his hands, eyes widened and emphasized by the fire. 

"Heart thudding in terror, she screamed, struggling to stand. Slowly and surely, she turned her head and looked at her mirror. Written on the glass in blood was; Humans can lick too."

Right as the story comes to a close, the murmurs of the boys hearing the story for the first time begin to stir up, sharing what they thought was going to happen and what they couldn't have expected. Many of them just look plain disgusted. 

"Why do you choose every story where the dog dies?" One of the twins groans as Tony continues to blabber away about it.

"So that means the guy was still under her bed in the next room!"

"Eugh," grunts Will. "I am so glad we only have sand and fabric to sleep on here." His friends share remarks of agreement. 

"Can you tell another story?" Asks Tony. 

"Nope," pops Jack. "Booth's closed for the rest of the night."

The boys groan in disappointment and shift in their seats to group back up. Jack chuckles and moves closer to his friends. I feel myself smile softly at the chatter, and let my eyes drift over to a smaller group of some of the older boys, separate from Jack and his group. 

Maurice is one of the gentler hunters. He's kind, and cracks good jokes.

Robert, Maurice, and Billy are a perfect trio. They do a lot together. They remind me of my old group of friends before I got caught up in cliques and shit. Loud coughing steals my attention from the group.

Captain Benson is breathing heavily, wheezing even. Simon pats the weak man on the shoulder. An urge tells me to go over there, but something interrupts me -- Jack sits down by my side. When our eyes meet, he flashes his famous smirk. I look at him blankly; my brown eyes mixing with his blue ones, like coffee and the dark tides sweeping up shore. A moment passes by before Jack finally chimes something with a charming grin. 

"Hey." 

"No."

I don't let another ounce of time linger before rising up and heading over to where Simon is tending to Captain Benson. 

"How is he?" I pop the question. Simon gives a quick shrug. "Not any better, not any worse."

I can tell it's troubling Simon. He just wants to help the old guy, but there isn't anything he can do. Most of the time he just sits there with Captain Benson, watching over him, hoping he'll get better. Simon is a selfless person, I've noticed. Always giving his share of food to younger kids, taking time out of his day to tend to Benson when no one else would, and the list goes on.

"I heard what Luke and Roger said to you. You shouldn't let him say that, nevertheless let it get to you."

I shrug nonchalantly. "Ehh, you know, I have to say at least something, right?"

He gives me a sympathetic look. "He's quite mean, but he only wants to get to you," he mentions. "But keep doing what you're doing. It shows your strength."

"I can see his intentions quick enough to catch on."

I lean back on my hands to rest some. "Jack would either add gasoline to the fire on Roger's behalf, or do something to start a scene."

Simon glances back at them curiously. "I should let you know that they're pretty close," he says wearily. "They pretty much always jump into arguments that they aren't even involved in to defend each other. They're unkind about it."

I think about it and purse my lips sourly. Simon notices and backtracks. 

"It'd probably go differently with you, but I don't know if Jack would go to the same lengths defending you like he defends Roger against Ralph."

This seems true. I wouldn't even be surprised to know that. Simon opens his mouth but quickly closes it again, seemingly debating a thought.

"Are you and Jack-? You know..." His small voice trails off, but I don't have to be a genius to catch what he's insinuating. A confused laugh leaves my lips.

"What? No," I pause, shutting my mouth and quickly and reopening it, scraping to find my bearings. "No, no, no... Of course not." I slowly shake my head. 

"Why do you think that?"

"You guys look at each other like there's something between you -- like, you both look guilty of something when you're questioned." Simon says simply with kind eyes. "It's always cautious and wary."

Staring at his face, my lips form a line to conjure up a sentence.

"Plus- he pulls you into his friends' unrelated conversations too often for someone who claims they supposedly 'hate' you..." he continues, smiling knowingly. I catch on, piquing my ever-swelling intrigue.

"It's more obvious to the rest of us than you both wish."

I blink in place, at a loss for words. I give him a pointed look as his eyes dig for confirmation.

"It's seriously nothing," I brush his speculations to the side. "And if there ever was something, it was a mistake." I shoot an anxious glance over to where Jack is.

"Does he know much about you yet?" Simon tilts his head slightly. That question makes me want to kick myself even more. 

"No, because there's no reason for him to." I answer quickly, feeling the disgust cloud my blood. "There's nothing between us." 

I find myself wincing as blood spurts from Benson's lips. Simon darts at his side, wiping it away with a scrap of cloth. I frown sadly at the sight. After it gets situated, he comes back next to me, and as if Simon has read my mind, he pops the question soon enough.

"I heard Jack's making jokes about your last partner- the one who passed. He shouldn't be doing that."

I blink in surprise, and worry grows over the boy's face that he may have offended me. 

"Jack doesn't know. It's okay." I fold my arms, holding either of my elbows as I adjust my sitting position. 

"It's just that- there's so much more to it."

Simon looks down at his hands, and I take the moment to look over at Jack again. 

"Just promise you won't say anything to any of them?" I hope with a sheepish cringe. "I can't have any of them knowing. I won't hear the end of it. You wouldn't say anything, right?"

The boy looks confused at my spill of words. 

"I would never, I promise! It's not my story to tell. I won't repeat it ever," he vows. I express a gracious, close-lipped smile.

Simon still has the chameleon perched on his bony shoulder. The small creature seems to love him. He's attached. I stroke the reptile with a bent finger. It's somehow rough and smooth all at the same time.

"I just wouldn't want anyone to think of me differently, y'know? Not that it matters." I roll my eyes, resting my chin on my knees. An expression takes over Simon's face -- one I don't recognize. Before anything is said, I look at Captain Benson thrashing over noisily.

"I wouldn't look at you differently, and neither should anyone else." He shakes his head.

"Well, you're you, and they're them." Simon must be blind to the maturity contrast between himself, Luke, Merridew, Roger, and the rest of em'. He gave me the weary yet genuine smile. Unsatisfied with the ending of this conversation, I look back at the campfire.

The orange-yellow flames dance in the air -- the boys each enjoying one another's presence. I lay my eyes on Jack, descending further into thought.

"You needn't over think it," Simon read my mind. "If Jack cares about you, how badly could he react? Keep in mind, he has too many faults to judge you."

"Simon." I laugh wearily. "I don't like Jack. He does not like me. I don't need his approval or disapproval. There is nothing, okay?"

The shy boy lets his eyes linger on me a moment longer before shrugging and looking away, clearly not convinced, but letting me believe he is.

"Either way," he continues. "No one here has a right to judge you." 

I force a smile, thinking about how wrong he truly is. I don't care about Jack's opinion on me changing. I really don't care. 

Thoughts are hard to put into words. Sighing, I turn back around to look at the group. They're all playing a game, running around the fire. It seems as if they're playing some version of tag. Jack notices me staring. He waves and returns to the game. He stumps me for some reason. I look back at the quiet boy.

"Thank you, Simon." I feel silly talking to a kid younger than me for advice.

"Any time, Veronica."

I rise up with nothing left to say, but I have to spew some bullshit parting words so that I don't leave without a farewell. 

"I'll sleep on it." I tell him. "And you should, too. Benson won't get up and walk away if you do so much as look away for a moment." 

Before he can respond, I start making my hurried way to slink past the group, avoiding looking over at any of the students which would pull unwanted attention. I just want to get to my shelter. Noticing me, Jack slips away from the crowd to my misfortune.

"Leaving so soon, Vera?" His words shoot like ice through the smoky air and stuck to my back. I pause in my tracks, pressing my lips into a line and squeezing my eyes shut before turning to meet his complacent sneer. Upon me turning around, he arches a mystifying brow, making me feel ever so smaller. 

"No, yeah. I'm just tired." I say, keeping myself neutral, glancing behind him a few times nervously. By the swelling twinkle in his eyes, I can tell that he knows I'm flustered at his presence, making me uphold a mask of leisure disinterest. I don't even know what there is to be chuckled about, but clearly he finds something amusing. 

"Don't tell me you're having second-thoughts, Sawyer," Jack says, almost a challenge. I know what he was referring to, and I'd really rather not discuss it. 

"I'm just saying goodnight is all," I tell him, meeting his eyes. "But thanks."

He grins at the stupid phrase. "Yeah, whatever. I walk you there."

"Please don't." My words are delivered placidly. 

"I'm gonna walk you." Jack insists, leaving no room for my silent protests. I start to speak again, stumbling over my first few words before giving up, and I regain composure. Not even a few minutes later, and we arrive at my shelter after a wordless walk. I check my hands to make sure none of the rings got lost in the water. Thankfully, they're all there.

"Merridew," I begin formally, ignoring his indifferent expression. "I believe there are some things that will need to be discussed between us in the morning."

"Go for it then," he mumbles in disinterest as he leans down to kiss me. Is this supposed to be the new normal? My eyes flicker to a figure behind Jack. Before I can reciprocate his movement, my hand presses his chest to stop the action. I furrow my brows, disbelieving for what I see.

"Roger?"

Jack frowns, narrowing his eyes at me before looking behind himself. The freakish teen looming there, staring with a clashing facial expression that I can't read.

"Rog? What's wrong, man?" Jack questions. 

"Where are you going?" The boy flatly asks. Jack turns to me with confusion. I shrug, switching focus back to Roger who is standing still.

"I'll be right back, Roger. Head on back." With nothing to say, Roger slowly walks backwards half way before turning and walking to the group. His gaze was inextinguishable. I felt slight discomfort for his odd manner. Jack simply finds it easy to just laugh and shrug it off.

"I'll talk to you in the morning."

"Alright, good night... I guess." 

He stuffs a hand in the pocket of his uniform jacket. My eyes widen as I wait for him to leave. Awkwardly, I give a quick wave and nod of the head before slinking into my shelter. Jack parts off to his ways as I make my move. It's silent again. I lay down, allowing myself to marinate in the inky darkness of the desolate shelter; the only sound accompanying me being the roaring of the ocean outside these thin walls. 

During the day, I am able to remain at least a bit optimistic, but at night, succumbed by the lonely shadows, I find my mind drifting to unpleasant thoughts. My body becomes enveloped by a somberness that I can describe as almost child-like. Bedtime is the only time I am gracious to finally have alone time, but it is also something I end up incredibly anxious for. I am utterly alone, and somehow it feels even more dreadful. Rolling over, I manage to get comfortable, finally giving into sleep for the first time that day.

♕︎♕︎♕︎

♕︎♕︎♕︎

You were supposed to be here when I got back

♕︎~♕︎

Thank you for believing in me. You really shouldn't have.

♕︎♕︎♕︎

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞--- (𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐭) 𝐇𝐞𝐲, 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬! 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐲. 𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐚 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤'𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐉𝐨𝐛, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦. 

𝐈 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐚'𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜, 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬. 𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬, 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐚'𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐲. 𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜, 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐚'𝐬 𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐦 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲. 

𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫, 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠. 𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐝𝐚𝐲/𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭!