#rogmon

Roger breathed out, leaning against the cool brick wall. Before, this would give Roger some comfort. At least, get rid of any stress he had temporarily.

But now, it wasn't as helpful. The furtive sighed once again, wishing he was back on the island..

It wasn't because he liked hearing the people complain about the heat and wanting to be rescued. He actually found that part annoying.

But, on the island.. moments like this were.. just much more beautiful. Away from civilization, not as much light pollution. The stars were brighter than ever, and Roger spotted more constellations than he thought he could ever.

And the feeling of both extremes, freezing cold night and the scorching hot fire.

Roger sighed once again. It was like the feeling of being home sick, but with the opposite of home. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes, and thinking back to the island.

It was basically the first conversation he'd ever had with Simon.

• • •

"..this is your spot, huh?"

"..yup."

"Hm.."

Roger looked around. The small sun beams coming through the leaves, the flowers, and of course, all of the butterflies that were fluttering around. And soon, his eyes landed back on Simon.

"..You can.. sit down if you want"

He offered a small smile.

Roger slowly nodded, and took a seat near by, but not close to where Simon was.

There was silence.

In any other situation with two normal people, this silence would be awkward. But not for the two boys. Silence was their language. So, in a way, this was comforting. No small talk, no one way conversations, no pointless questions. Just silence.

The most talkative things there were the butterflies. Some, more than others. There was this one specific butterfly that kept fluttering around Simon. And eventually, the insect wanted to meet the new visitor. It flew over to the furtive boy, and after fluttering around him for a while, the butterfly landed on his shoulder, and then took off again, and soon came back.

The insect couldn't decide where to land. Repeatedly landing on different places of Roger. The boy just observed. Eventually, the butterfly saw where it was the most comfortable. Which just so happened to be on Rogers nose.

He huffed, trying to get it off. But it stayed in its place. There was a chuckle, coming from the other boy.

"Aww, it likes you"

Roger looked down.

"..guess so.."

He mumbled.

• • •

Roger tilted his head to the side, his eyes still close. The whole moment replaying in his mind perfectly. Roger breathed out, slowly opening his eyes again.

He was immediately taken back when he saw the figure he was just imagining.

It looked a lot like Simon.

Too much like Simon.

Except he was.. transparent. And the figure gave off a blue-ish green-ish glow. The figure was also bleeding, but didn't appear to be in pain. He was covered in wounds. Lacerations, bite marks, other injuries..

Roger rubbed his eyes, taking a double take. His breathing quickened, as he started to talk some sense into himself mentally.

He started to calm down a bit, but he still stared at the figure of an old acquaintance.

The figure looked back at Roger.

The expression it had at first was sweet. Peaceful. But it quickly changed to match Roger's.

Silence filled the air.

"..what?"

Roger muttered to himself.

The ethereal being slowly looked behind itself. And then back to Roger. It slowly sat down.

Roger's breath got caught in his throat. This.. thing was just staring at him, right into his eyes -- right into his soul.

What was this?

Roger never flinched at the thought of death. Torture, human trafficking, or genocide..

But this just didn't set right with Roger.

Sure, he'd had beaten up some kids before. Hospitalizing them. Hell, he even messed up a teacher physiologically so bad that he quit a week later, and apparently still hasn't recovered. And of course, Roger didn't feel an ounce of shame. No remorse.

He knew what he did was wrong, but he couldn't help but shrug it off. So why can't he now? He wasn't that attached to Simon. He barely talked to him.

So what was this projection? Has Roger's brain finally turned on him? Is this what guilt felt like? Was he too, dying? Had he died, out in the cold night, just outside of the school?

"..What do you want.."

Roger muttered, gritting his teeth. He feels like he's staring right at death itself. But, instead of it being the gut-wrenching, dreadful, feared figure society pictured it to be, it was sweet, caring, inviting.

The figure slowly inched closer, in a gentle movement.

"..you can.. see me?"

It spoke. Matching the same dear voice of everyone's pal, except hollow with a matching echo.

"..Yeah. I can see you.."

Roger bit his tongue. Confirmation?! Why'd he give it confirmation?!

"Oh,"

The figure said with a smile. The two stared at eachother, until the astral being chuckled.

"You look traumatized, Roger. Well I mean.. I guess others would be too, but I wouldn't expect you out of all people."

Roger awkwardly let out a forced chuckle. He wasn't traumatized. Not from this encounter, at least. More confused than anything.

"...Simon.."

He muttered out. It was really the only thought that he had.

"Yeah?"

The figure responded. Silence filled the night air as the dots slowly started lighting up.

"You're.. Simon."

"Mhm-hm"

Roger breathed out.

"Okay," thought the furtive boy, "It's starting to make some sense now."

"The... Ghost, of Simon."

"Well.. yeah.."

The spiritual-being confirmed, rubbing the back of its neck with its hand.

"Huh.."

Simon and Roger shared another silence. Roger gaining a small sense of comfort, or whatever it was he felt back on the island. He slowly sat up, sitting up straighter.

"..so.. why are you here?"

"Ah, just.. y'know.. watching ya, I guess.."

"Watching me?"

"Yeah-! I.. I don't know. I just.. I like watching you all! You've guys been.. handing my death well, I will say that."

"...I guess the others have been.. alright"

"..you have too.!"

"Yeah, well.. I'm used to it"

"..death?"

"Yeah.."

"..makes sense"

Silence once again. Finally, the awkwardness and tight feeling was starting to go away. Roger breathed, looking up at the sky. Simon's gaze followed his.

"Y'know,"

Roger started, but then trailed off.

"Yeah.?"

Roger swallowed, taking a deep breath.

"..I don't.. like what I do"

"..oh?"

"I just.. like, i- I know what I do is wrong, but I just.. it's not that I can't help it, I can. But I just.. I don't know why I do it. I can hold back, but for some reason, I just don't. And I just.. I'm.. slightly.. scared, I guess. I don't want to end up like my dad. At all. But I just.. I can't- ... I.. feel like it's slightly inevitable. And I just-"

"Hey, hey, hey, Roger, calm down.."

Simon gently placed his hand on Roger's back. Roger let out a huff, tensing up at the sudden touch.

"..it's okay, Roger- hey, hey, look at me."

Simon said when noting Roger glancing away. He put his hands on his shoulders and looked deeply into his eyes.

"It's okay, buddy. Y'know, you don't have to worry about things like that too much. It'll come around, and you'll end up okay. Don't worry about turning into something you don't want to be. You won't if you really don't want to. And if it just so happens, you can take yourself out of the situation. Just.. don't worry about the future. And.. try to focus on what's happening here and now."

Simon smiled. Roger nodded taking the words into consideration. He didn't know why, this all could be a figment of his imagination. Roger snapped out of his thoughts when he felt a small tap. He looked up back at the friendly ghost, whose arms were out. Roger slowly reached and retracted his hand, not sure what to do.

"Hug. Roger. It's a hug.."

"Oh"

Roger felt a little stupid for not knowing that. Roger slowly opened his arms out like Simon, trying to move closer but really not making any progress.

Simon chuckled out of embarrassment for the poor boy, and soon just closed the gap between them.

Roger couldn't help shivering when he was touched. This thing was dead, a conscious corpse. There was no heat, so the opposite came in its place. But Roger didn't mind. This was probably the first and last physical contact he would have in a while, if you can even call it that. Roger's arms mocked Simon's as they went around him. His arms mocked Simon's as they went around him.

Despite the touch being deathly cold, Roger felt comfortable.

That was the art of Simon. Brutally murdered, and yet still somehow has a gentle, friendly, comfy aura.

"I don't think this should be possible.."

Roger whispered. He stared at his hands and how they looked like they could phase right through Simon, although what he was feeling felt like a solid.

"...don't question it."

Simon whispered back. And Roger complied.

Roger closed his eyes, thinking about how they looked. Two boys, two old "friends" in each other's embrace. He didn't even know if others could see the spirit, and that he just looked mental, outside in the middle of the night, hugging air. Or maybe he fell asleep, passed out on the concrete, drooling. Well, no matter the option, Roger was probably going to get yelled at.

But for now, there was silence.

Not awkward silence, not deathly silence.

But the same old, comforting silence.