Lord of the Flies: Learning How to Love [UNFINISHED]

Hello, Love / prologue

a/n (February 2024)
This was a passion project of mine during my first year of high school. This story still holds a special place in my heart although i'm still ashamed of how i've portrayed these characters. I have no calling to go through and rewrite this, but I still want it available to whoever is looking for a cringey read. You're probably a freshman, like me when i wrote this, who found this on a google search for jalph fanfiction. Please understand this is an unfinished story written by a dumb preteen. 

I have a current playlist for this story for anyone genuinely interested 

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4Fx27b1dAgMJnbpGdUo36k?si=9ae4daadb35d43ee

The phrase "I love you" had never been an expression that Jack liked to share with anyone other than himself. The words "I love you" held as much damage and potential as hatred, discord, and everything in between. The word "love" was a very, very sensitive word for Jack Merridew to comprehend. Thinking about it; even knowing he had felt it before would make his heart skip a beat. Little did he know, though, someone would change his viewpoint on this noun. Sooner or later, he would finally be fixed again, after dealing with the tumult of his inner savagery on the island.

The months spent on the island were a part of him, a nasty scar, a little social experiment he failed. It was some sort of God-given test. He made the wrong choices and failed. It didn't occur to him until a later time, however, that he committed the "crimes" he did. The most deliberate crime is how he portrayed himself and believed himself to be. The realization hit him at such a strange time that he only began to process it with appropriate emotions at an unreal time late at night. How long could he go longing for something he wouldn't get? Did he even want to risk it all to pick one person out? Did the person even exist?

The person was the one facet there that made the experience better. The only valuable part of Jack's injured heart held Ralph. From the day he marched up to the assembly with his choir, to the day they drifted back to England via Navy transport, Jack had a strong belief he and Ralph were sort-of soulmates. The first time they had any social interaction seemed so natural, even if Jack was rude to him in the first place (although, who wouldn't be a bit out of it if your plane just crashed on an island?). They never exchanged goodbyes when they got home. He didn't even remember what happened when they got home. Nobody did. They all fell asleep and woke back up in their beds, still covered in war-paint, cuts, bruises, and the end of innocence.

Seven months later, Jack Merridew was just beginning to "forget" about the cruel island, those devastating four months of his life, feeling more comfortable talking about it without cringing or feeling any guilt for his actions. January through April was a part of him now, he couldn't forget that. It would never hurt to think of how the experience benefited his character, though. Everything happens for a reason, right? That's what was taught at his Parish daily, his Catholic school, and even his choir director who was also the youth minister for the church's local community.

Sometimes, the choir was the only thing that kept his head up high. It is, of course, always nice to have something to look forward to. Being chapter chorister and the head boy made him feel superior. It wasn't the same as his old choir back home, but it was better than no choir at all. He wished more people would be willing to join the concert choir. There were only about seven people, and for their age group, it looked bad on the Church's part. Jack usually thought to himself, "What if Ralph showed up here one day?"

Bullocks to that, who knew where Ralph was? His daddy probably sent him to some military academy after figuring out what ensued on the island. He'd never get the chance to love again. Even if he did, it wouldn't be very public or accepted.

That didn't matter if anything did. He was done practicing for the day but had no reason to leave. The only other place to go was his dorm. That wasn't much better. He ripped his uniform tie and sweater off and tossed them where his tog lay. Like a cliche cartoon, he cracked his knuckles before playing a simple chord on the piano. From there, he came up with a few verses of a song off the top of his head.

Do, re, mi, fa, so, la, ti, do.

He looked behind him quickly to see if anyone else was in the cathedral's extra rectory. No, of course, there wasn't. This was basically his private office. He played the same chord again and warmed up his voice with a simple scale. Without thinking of or using any of his previously conjured lyrics, he started an improvised song with a word he despised.

"Hello, love."