Here's a short Songfic I'll be working on in my freetime~
It takes place after the rescue, but it also occurs as if Jack was the only one who survived.
The song that inspired this is: Only if For a Night by Florence and the Machine
WARNING: THERE ARE MANY FEELS TO BE FELT~
Thanksies for reading. Please Review if you have the time!
ONLY IF FOR A NIGHT
CHAPTER ONE: Fire
Fire. That's all I can remember. Why didn't anybody run but me? Why did I even start that fire in the first place? In the midst of the jungle, all I can remember is the hungry blue flames of that inferno…and the one note that cast a proverbial haunt across its precipices; a scream. And it was mine.
Had it always been mine?
I can no longer remember.
Only the fire comes to me in my dreams.
"Hey, Jack." Someone called out, "Do you know the answer?"
I snapped out of my day dreaming and looked up. "Answer to what?"
The teacher sighed and tapped her finger on the chalkboard. "Recite this poem for us, please. That is, if you memorized it like you were supposed to."
Flicking orange hair out of my face, I began.
"I slept all day.
The birds do thus;
That sing awhile
At eve for us.
To have you soon
I gave away-
To give- a day.
Life's not so short
I care to keep
The unhappy days;
I choose to sleep."
"Good, good!" The teacher praised. Her obnoxious blonde poof of hair bounced up and down as she clapped. "Perfect. Thank you, Jack."
I didn't answer. Instead, I took up my things and pushed away from my desk, deciding it was the perfect time to leave. Everyone just stared as I went out the door and disappeared. Nobody even tried to stop me. Without interruption, I could wander the halls and reminisce.
My feet drug me to the choir room. Not the place I wanted to go, and definitely not my favorite place in the school. It was empty, as was usual these days. Nobody ever came here anymore. Because, truth be told, there was no more choir.
I stood at the conductor's podium and stared out at the empty stands. Some still had name tags hanging off the edges, worn and tattered from mistreatment and neglect.
There, in the center; Sam and Eric in screwy, almost identical lettering. Off to the side, Maurice had drawn a large M with a stick figure on top. Nobody really knew why; nobody questioned it either. I mean, it was Maurice, after all. The worst one, the one that hurt the most, was in the very front on the very edge. Roger's old place.
Of all the death's, his and Ralph's were perhaps the worst. Because Roger was my best friend, perhaps my only friend. And Ralph…
…we could've been great friends.
Without knowing it, I started to sob. Shit. I hated crying, especially over something so trivial and dumb. There was nothing I could ever do to bring them back. There was nothing I could ever do to release the pain. Maybe if I closed my eyes and never woke up, I could stay in my dreams forever and I could be happy again.
Maybe, if we ever invented a time machine, I could go back and die in their place.
That night, I had a dream…