"We are bound to each other's hearts. Caught, torn and pulled apart."

..

"Roger!"

In his dreams, the boy with pale skin, black hair and eyes with dark circles underneath them heard a voice calling his name. He rarely dreamt, and what he could ever see in those visions was a pit of darkness, with only him inside it. He would see himself with eyes shedding blood as tears, broken gray wings, and hands, scarred, blood-soaked, reaching up, without hope. A red spot in the middle of a black pit. He would scream, loud, but no one would hear him, and no one would come to help him. He would wake up, his shirt drenched in sweat, his eyes half open, being too familiar with the dream. He would feel his cheeks and eyes getting hot for a reason he had forgotten.

It was not the same in that dream.

He saw light, from the sun, a bright light, splendid to other people, but irritating to him. He turned around to see green surrounding him, with the sound of cicadas, and birds, and the waves crashing into the shore. He looked around, and became aware of the feeling of secrecy in the place. He glanced down, and his eyes were caught in a figure of another boy sitting at the corner. The boy had a deeply tanned skin with thick hair that were hazel in color. His forest green eyes were opening, and were staring forward. They were so bright they looked like they were two stars stuck in the boy's eyes. The boy moved his gaze up to him and smiled. For a moment, he was stuck in the boy's smile. He opened his mouth to speak, but he kept choking on his words. He saw the boy spreading his arms out, stood up to pull him into an embrace, but in the end just tripped and fell into him, making them both fall, he on his back, and the boy on him. He lifted his head a little to look at the boy's feet. His pupils dilated as he saw the open wounds formed by sharpened wooden sticks. The boy's legs were small and skinny, and white, small creatures were crawling all over them, and flies buzzed around them, making a part of his left leg look like a mass of black. The boy's arms that were wrapping around him looked the same, and his face was rotting. Discolored green eyes stared at him, raging, fuming.

"Why didn't you save me?" He said, his teeth gritting, creating an awful sound.

Roger opened his eyes. His breath was quick and short, his heart was beating fast, and his bare back was sweating. He noticed that his eyes were wet and his nose was stuck. He sat up while wiping away the dirt that stuck on his right arm, ear and black hair. He turned sideways to see the same boy from his dream, in the same position, but sleeping, or seemingly so. The flower crown attracted bees, and his body drew flies there. Roger busted a big leaf and got rid of the creatures before worming himself out of the place.

He heard his name being called all over the island and kept walking down the slope of the jungle until in front of him was an open space, and he bumped into Maurice. The other boy, who was in the middle of calling his name turned around. His face shifted from concerned to surprised, then he grinned and grabbed Roger's shoulders with both hands, intentionally pressing hard.

"Rodge, there you are, do you have any idea how worried chief was?" He said, his hand clinging even tighter to Roger's shoulders, "he's been searching for you the whole afternoon, and he doesn't let anyone, I mean anyone," he stressed on the word, "rest until we find you."

"I fell asleep in the woods," Roger's voice was still raspy, but at least his throat was a little better.

"How did you even.." Maurice seemed unconvinced. He looked around, and immediately spotted the chief's ginger hair. "Never mind. Chief!" He called out, "I found Roger!"

The red-headed chief turned around, his eyes caught the sight of the raven hair. He walked through the part of the forest between them, and, before he himself knew it, pushed Roger against a tree. Jack's bony fingers pressed hard into the shorter boy's shoulders, and his gaze pierced through the boy. His breath was short, and his lungs were filled with much more anger than he thought he was feeling. He gritted his teeth, and his face was so close to the other's that their noses touched.

"Do you have any idea how worried I was?" Jack blurted out the words before he even knew it, his voice was hoarse from shouting Roger's name, "where have you been?"

"I fell asleep in the forest," Roger gave the excuse again, his eyes staring straight into the chief's, "got tired, and dozed off."

Maurice had gone off somewhere. Jack turned his head around, looking almost furtive, then, with a sudden movement, pulled Roger closer to him, and wrapped both his arms around the smaller boy. Their bare chests touched, and Roger's head was buried and pressed into the crook of Jack's neck. The constant beat of the disobedient organ lying within Jack's chest echoed in Roger's ears. The sandy scent from Jack's body, along with the tangy, iron smell of dried blood filled his nose. His pupils dilated slightly, and his heart beat a little faster from the shock.

"Don't do that again," Jack's voice was almost like a whisper in Roger's ears. His light blue eyes glanced at the boy in his arms, and on his face was an oddly gentle expression, "because.." His eyes glanced around, looking for a reason, "because I don't like it." The sense of possession took over him. Jack raised his voice. "Yeah, because I don't like you wandering around in the forest. You're my hunter, you belong to my tribe, and to me only."

..

He with light blue eyes stared at the starry night, assuming the boy with black hair had fallen asleep at the back of the cave because he had told him so. He ran a hand through his mess of red hair and broken twigs, then realized how much he had acted like the former chief of the island, that fair boy. He had washed his face and body paint off long ago, right after the feast he had just thrown with the pig they succeeded hunting that afternoon. The brown freckles appeared to have decreased in number, but they were still enough to be one of his distinct traits. He was humming a melody, one of the songs he used to sing during Choir. From his throat came a high and beautiful note that echoed in the night, then disappeared. He tried to keep his voice down so that the boy, presumably sleeping, at the back could get his night's rest. The more he wandered into his thoughts, the more he felt that sense of ownership over that boy with black hair and pale skin. He adjusted his position, then put both hands under his head, and watched the small dots that emit light twinkling above.

His eyes slowly shut, and his breath was a peaceful rhythm.

Darkness took over his vision.