hi darling! this is actually so beautiful, thank you so much for both thinking of me and then dropping this in my asks. i genuinely really appreciate it 🖤
it is VERY much not canon compliant it's part of my au which i need to post more about so if anything needs explaining i am glad to do so.
pairing: technically Jalph, but like. kinda not? romantic tension almost but nothing more. theyre my freaks and i love them /aff
it was going to be a hurt/comfort, but it turned into hurt/more hurt but it's GAY so it's kinda angsty but thats how i like my writing
summary: The fire-hungry mob is attacking the small camp shared by Ralph, Jack, Piggy, and the others. Jack is ready to fight but ends up injured and passing out in the sand. Ralph helps him out after the battle ends.
fic under the cut! word count: 1,095 (sorry i suck at summaries lol)
"We want fire!" The boys Jack had once recognized as his hunters screamed, charging towards the small camp that the rest of the sane ones resided at. It was almost past sunset and they looked ready to kill. Jack felt ready; for once, his hunting ability and leadership would come in clutch.
"Take that!" He hurled his spear towards one of them, their faces blending together in the darkness. He watched as dark liquid spilt onto the sand, and a familiar rush of energy spurted through his veins. He felt powerful again, like all the time he'd spent under Ralph's thumb was over.
"Jack, wait!" He heard the call from behind him, but he was already swinging towards another attacker. The voice Jack recognized as being Ralph's stopped shouting to Jack and started shouting in agony as he worked to protect Piggy, who was cowering on the ground. Jack scoffed, how does he stand that kid? How does he like him more than me?
Suddenly, a sharp pain in Jack's abdomen brought him to his senses. He looked down to see blood flowing out of the side of his malnourished body caused by what looked to be a sharpened stone.
"You think that'll stop me?" Jack looked to see who had thrown it. He saw the silhouette of his alledged attacker getting beaten by Samneric, and realized the group were retreating. The wound on his side throbbed with pain, still bleeding. He noticed somebody trying to sneak behind the main fight, and ran over to him, ready to attack.
Jack decided he wasn't going to chicken out right before the fight ended. He would finish what had started, and he wouldn't back down, no matter what happened. He picked another stone up from the ground and threw it at the savage.
Yes, that's what they are, completely out of their right minds. Have they no mind for order? He shuddered, wondering if that would have been him if Ralph hadn't dragged him away from the feast that night after they'd almost killed Simon. He'd spent so much time wondering why he did it, but not nearly enough what would have happened if he didn't.
He suddenly started to feel lightheaded. He watched the others retreat back to their camp feeling like he was watching them from far away. The real questions is if it was the shock from the fight, the thought of losing his mind, or the wound that kept stinging worse and worse as he breathed. He realized that he was still bleeding, and it was starting to worry him.
Cheering sounded from the rest of Ralph's lot, and Jack wondered if he should join them. He'd never really been a part of their group, had he? But a battle won is a battle worth celebrating nontheless. He really needed to do something about this bleeding.
He decided to go find someone and ask if they had some old cloth he could use to pack the wound or something. He took a step towards where the boys were congregating by the fire, and found his legs were like jelly. He tried to keep going, but everything felt too heavy.
As Jack half-collapsed onto the ground, still somehow bleeding, he wondered if he would die. He tried to make a sound, alert somebody of his situation, but found he couldn't form words. He looked to the fire as his vision doubled, then tripled, then went dark around the edges.
"Help-!" the words were mumbled and incoherent. He started to panic, actually panic, and then his vision faded to black.
~~~
The fire was uncomfortably warm, despite it being nearly out at this hour of the night. Normally, Jack would've welcomed the warmth, but it made his already aching head hurt more.
He sat up, momentarily forgetting everything that had ever happened to him and wondering how he got there, when splitting pain in his side caused him to cry out in agony.
"Lay down, you're going to aggrivate the wound." Jack suddenly noticed Ralph sitting next to him, staring at the sand. There was a pause, then, "You could've died."
The silence was tense, and Jack took a minute to survey his surroundings. It was the middle of the night by the looks of it, but nobody was asleep. Jack didn't blame them, watching mindlessly as they sat at the other end of the fire, most of them just staring at the horizon like a ship would come to save them right then and there.
"I didn't mean to get pelted with a bloody rock," Jack said suddenly, with an air of definsiveness. "I was fighting them off. I was protecting us."
"You were being stupid, and could've died because of it. I tried to tell you to wait-"
"I don't need you telling me what to do, Ralph!" Jack realized that he was almost crying. He turned away from Ralph, towards the fire, to hide his face. "I don't need anybody telling me what to do."
Neither of the boys said anything for a while, and Jack tried to keep his face as unreadable as possible. He was still sitting up, forcing himself to ignore the pain and keep his breathing steady. It was true, he didn't need people to tell him what to do. He was a free man and could do as he pleased. This wasn't England.
"I'm sorry, Jack- I wanted you to be safe. I'm not a dictator-"
"Why? Why do you care what I do? What, do you love me or something? Pity me?" Jack didn't know why he was so defensive over this, but he'd chosen a hill and now he was going to die on it.
"I- I don't know!" Ralph stood up, going red in the face. "There's something about you, Jack Merridew, that's for sure. I just don't get it."
Ralph walked away, headed towards the shelters. Jack sighed and laid back down, wincing from the pain. He wasn't going to cry, he wouldn't. He would put sand in his eyes before he would cry from them in front of everybody. He stared at the stars until he drifted into an uneasy sleep, waking every half-hour or so until sunrise.
He stared at the scars and bruises left by the stone, wondering how Ralph had patched it up so well. He would've asked, but he refused to so much as look at him.
Still, he could feel something had changed. Something was different between them now. Jack doubted it would ever be the same again.
