The Iris Jumper
By Tomi Sama
Chapter 2 of 2: Jumper
Song: "Jumper" by Third Eye Blind
Warning: Violence, Character death, slash.
Disclaimer: I don't own. You don't sue.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm trying something new with this. So… Let me explain. Bold and italics means that it's the lyrics of the song. When it's in "quotations" a character is saying the lyrics and when it's in 'whatever these things are' it's a thought. If it's in neither, it's just something that relates.
Roger sighed, leaning over a little. With the back of his dirty hand, he wiped away the tears that refused to stop. How long had it been? A few days? A few months? And still, the death of his friend haunted him like a ghost. He saw the quiet epileptic all the time. The boy would talk to him.
Simon would push his hair from his clean face, and smile and say, "How was the hunting today, Roger?"
The beautiful face of his angel, the body itself was naked to the waist, where he still wore the crude shorts. The boy was clean. He had to be cleaner now, in death, than he'd ever been on the island. But the cleanliness only emphasized the scars on the boy's pale back.
A constant reminder to Roger that he'd helped kill the person he loved.
Roger leaned more, looking down over the side. The cliff had stopped abruptly, and it cascaded straight down. The actual water was shallow there, Roger knew; and there were spikes. If hitting the water wasn't enough to kill him, the spikes would finish the job.
Roger inched his foot forward a little more. A few loose rocks tumbled down, hitting the side of the cliff before splashing in the water. Roger took the other hand, this time, and wiped his other cheek.
It was now or never.
"I wish you would step back from the ledge, my friend."
Roger spun around, knowing he'd heard it. It was real. It was Simon's voice. He was unsurprised to see the clean body, pale with a soft glow standing nonchalantly five yards from him. His hands were holding each other, placed in front of him. He was smiling, and the wind played with his out grown hair, black to match Roger's.
"What?" Roger whispered, still looking at Simon.
"You could…" Simon smiled and held out one of his hands. "…cut ties… to all the lies that you've been living in."
Roger frowned. The lies. Where did they start? Where did they end? The lies surrounding the two boys on the mountain were infinite. They weren't enemies. They'd been friends all along. More than friends, honestly. Which only started more lies. The two boys had lived with lies their whole lives… but Roger couldn't cut them. He just couldn't.
As if Simon had read his mind, he dropped his hand and took a step back, the smile falling as he looked down.
"And… if you do not want to see me again…" Simon looked up at Roger. "I would understand."
I would understand.
Simon had always said that. When Roger would go off hunting with Jack, and come back to join Simon in his sanctuary; he would lay on his back, bloody and dirty, with the sharpened spear in his hand. Simon, even cleaner than the rest on the island, would be sitting upright with his legs folded. Roger would smile at how beautiful Simon looked, and how Simon's eyes beamed when Roger told him about the hunt.
But they always would die, as Simon grew worried. "If… If you want to be with Jack and not me… I-If you wanted to go there… and help him cook the pig… I would understand."
Roger walked forward a little, away from the ledge and to his dead lover. "Simon…"
But the dark haired boy just smiled, the way he always had when Roger showed a slight amount of humanity and emotion.
"The angry boy." Simon said, holding his hand out again. "… a bit too insane." Roger frowned. He hated the word insane, and he knew that's why Simon used it. Where Roger clearly was borderline insane, the title had always been given to the epileptic, and Roger had hated it when they called his love insane.
Simon stepped closer to Roger, smiling again. "Icing over a secret pain… you know you don't belong."
Roger turned back to the ledge and looked over. He felt Simon's hand on his shoulder, but he didn't face him. He didn't belong. He needed to jump. The only place he belonged was in the clearing, with Simon. He'd gone back to the clearing; the next morning he had, but it didn't matter. Sitting in the clearing, watching the butterflies dance as he laid in his spot on his back was nothing. It wasn't enjoyable without seeing the butterflies dancing around Simon.
But the second night, Simon had been there.
And Simon had been here ever sense.
"You're the first to fight," Simon's voice shown with pride. Roger could never figure out why Roger fighting made his dark haired partner happy. Simon said something about how, "if they ever find out about us… you could fight them. You wouldn't take it lying down."
"They won't find out, Simon."
"You're way too loud." The laughter in Simon's voice was present, and even Roger smiled slightly as he wiped his face again. Roger, although he hardly ever talked, use to make a hell of a racket when he was trampling through the forest to get to the clearing.
Roger felt Simon's hand leave his shoulder, and go around his middle, as he felt the shorter boy's stomach on his back. He felt Simon's fluffy hair on his bare shoulder, which was slicked with sweat.
Roger whispered. "You're the flash of light on the burial shroud."
Simon smiled and put his forehead on Roger's shoulder. "I know something's wrong…"
Roger tilted his head back, looking up at the setting sun, instead of down to the cliff. "Everyone I know has got a reason…"
Simon ran his hand over the workings of abs on Roger's juvenile stomach. "To say… 'put the past away'."
Roger looked back at his friend and asked, "What was your reason?"
He saw the hair move, and he saw the blue eyes poke out from his shoulder. "You…"
"That's why you're still here? That's why you're not in heaven?"
Simon rolled his eyes. "Who said there was a heaven?"
Roger was stunned. He always took Simon to be a religious person, even though he himself wasn't. He heard the other sigh. "I wish you would step back from that ledge, my friend."
The sadist looked over. Suicide seemed appropriate. And if he was dead, couldn't he truly be with Simon again?
"You could cut ties from all the lies that you've been living in."
Was Simon saying it would be better if they lived in two separate worlds? Did Simon want him to go and be a normal boy, even after everything that had happened?
"And… If you do not want to see me again, I would understand."
And again, it was with the: I would understand.
Roger sighed. Simon never made sense. Jack had told him, the Chief himself, told Roger that nobody does something for nothing. Why was Simon telling Roger to keep living without him? Why was Simon telling Roger that living alone was a better choice than not living at all. Why would Simon ever think Roger wouldn't want to see him again?
He's on the table and he's gone to code.
"What are you doing here?" Simon asked.
Roger knew he was talking about the ledge. He knew the other was talking about why was he thinking of jumping, but Roger had other answers.
And… "I do not think anyone knows what they are doing here."
Simon sighed. Roger could tell he was slightly annoyed with Roger not telling him. And… "Your friends have left, you've been dismissed."
Roger took the honest blow. Jack was still pissed at Ralph; pissed and in love with. The twins were involved with themselves and everyone had someone. And Roger was left alone and even quieter than he had been.
"I never thought it would come down to this." Simon said honestly. He stepped away from Roger, and turned and walked away. Roger turned with him, following instinctively a few feet from the edge.
Simon turned around quickly, looking slightly frustrated, with a soft pink blush appearing on his face as he looked down and said, "And I… I want you to know."
The sadist walked forward, putting his hands on Simon's shoulders. Simon stayed looking down for a few seconds, and when he looked up, Roger was surprised to see tears in his innocent eyes. "Everyone's got to face down the demons."
Roger pulled Simon closer, into a slightly awkward hug. Simon wrapped his arms around Roger's stomach again, and buried his head into his chest.
A few more seconds of silence and Simon looked up again. Roger could feel the heat in his own cheeks now. He had to put the past away, but he had a feeling his way of doing so… would be different from Simon's.
"Maybe today we can put the past away…"
Simon's expression grew happy from Roger's words. Roger smiled back, happy to make his angel smile. Suddenly, while Simon was off guard, Roger broke free from their hug, and ran to the ledge. He heard Simon fall to his hands and knees, from the force of Roger's pulling away.
He was over the ledge before Simon could stop him.
He heard his angel scream, "No! Roger!" And he saw the dark hair and pale face look over the edge, on his hands and knees, as he plummeted to the bottom of the mountain.
Simon watched the body hit. Near hysterical, he laid on the edge, crossing his arms and burring his head into them. Sobbing didn't come close. Even bawling. He was sure, even as a spirit that only Roger could see, the other boys on the island must have heard the pained wailing.
Simon knew there was a heaven. He knew there was a hell, too, but Simon hadn't gone there. He died, but he had been a good boy. But even as he stood, accepted with open arms at the pearly gates, he had done what Roger had done.
"I wish you would step back from the ledge, my friend." Saint Peter had said, looking fearfully at the boy who stood on the edge of oblivion.
Simon wiped his tearstained cheeks with the back of his hand, and looked back at Peter, wondering why he shouldn't jump.
"Up here, it's different, Simon." He'd said, opening his arms. "You could cut ties with all the lies that you've been living in…"
Simon looked down. He watched, like it was a movie, as the boys he claimed to be his friends stood around him, finally realizing it had been Simon, and not the beast. He remembered seeing the look of pure horror on Roger's face.
In fact, he remembered as the boys all went off, pretending nothing had happened, Roger ran to their clearing. Not in the sacred clearing itself, but at a tree thirty yards from it, the living boy had propped himself against a tree and vomited.
"Simon. Simon." He said over and over again, like it was a chant. "Simon."
Simon had never seen the other cry until he watched him from the gates of heaven.
He watched Roger leave, to go back to the rest of the boys and sleep. Simon was still crying, and Peter put his hand on his shoulder. "He won't want to see you. He knows your dead and haunting him won't do either of you any good. Let him mourn…"
Simon closed his eyes and nodded. Peter smiled, taking a step back. He knew the boy would come around.
"And… if you do not want to see me again, I would understand." Simon repeated, like he'd said to Roger every time the boy would flap down in their clearing, dirty and bloody, and smile with pride. Simon would have given Roger up, if that's what he wanted… but this time. This once. Simon wasn't going to give Roger his choice.
I would understand.
Simon cried into his arms. He couldn't believe he failed at doing what he came here to do… to protect his lover; to make him stay alive.
Any time. He would have left anytime for Roger, and now he couldn't leave. He was trapped here.
I would understand.
Simon looked over the edge. He could see Roger's body floating face down, and a circle of blood spreading out from around him. He didn't take comfort in the thought his body would be eaten by fishes.
The ghost of the boy whispered to himself, "Could you put the past away?"
"I wish you would step back from that ledge, my friend."
Simon turned around, shocked to hear the voice, but he was even more shocked by what he saw.
Roger stood, looking proud as ever, with his legs shoulder width apart, his arms folded in front of him and like the other boy; he was clean. His long hair had been pulled back into a pony tail at the base of his head. It was a short pony tail, just a tiny bit sticking out, but it was back off his face.
Simon, on his hands and knees, crawled toward Roger. The pale skin was glowing, like his, but Simon couldn't figure out how.
"You… You jumped too?"
"You said there was no heaven."
"How'd you get into heaven? Not only are you an evil bastard, you committed suicide. That's straight down." Simon said, still sitting at Roger's feet.
Roger smirked. "Oh, thank you. And by the way, when suicide's done for love, it's voided. Like Romeo and Juliet. They didn't go to hell."
Simon looked wide eyed up at Roger. The other smiled, and pulled Simon up by the armpits, and then he took his hand. He walked toward the ledge and looked down, grimacing slightly from the sight of his own dead body.
"Let's go home." Roger said, looking back at Simon. "Together."
Simon smiled a little, aware the tears were still streaming freely, and he nodded. Roger gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, and the two of them jumped together this time.
Although they didn't know what would happen to them, it didn't matter this time. This time they were together.
I would understand.