"Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up."

- Neil Gailman, The Kindly Ones.

..

Hiraeth.

A Welsh word without a direct English translation, meaning homesickness for a home one could not return, or that never was.

The first time Jack saw that word, hiraeth, he was in the school's library, going through the thick dictionary hoping to learn some new vocabulary to impress the choir. He did not comprehend the meaning of it back then, to the point where he thought it was silly. A home one could not return was most definitely not a familiar concept to him.

The second time, he heard it from the mouth of a homeless Welsh man. He still did not get the word then.

The third time, it came to his mind when he realized the one he considered his home was never his.

This time, he understood the meaning of the word, and the painful feeling along with it.

..

Jack hated losing.

Whenever he lost, he would hear his mother hissing. Her cold blue eyes would shine that chilling light of disappointment on him. She would slowly shake her head, her voice monotonous and harsh. He would hear her teeth grit, and she would point at him with her bony finger.

"How many times have I told you, Merridew? Do-not-disappoint."

"Yes mother." He would always reply, his head bowing down, his eyes fixated on the ground. "I will succeed next time."

Which was why he wanted to be followed, and also why he hated being betrayed.

And why he could not stand it when a certain black-haired boy he considered the closest to him cared for another one not him.

..

The Choir room had always been Jack Merridew's territory. He was the absolute king there. He controlled every boy in the Choir. He enjoyed how the sense of power and authority overwhelm him ever since he became the chapter chorister and head boy. He had the belief that with his power, everyone, in the Choir at least, would be under his command, they would do whatever he wanted them to, all because they were controlled by him.

Like the ideal leader that he considered himself to be, Jack hated people who disobey. He once kicked a boy out of the choir just because that boy had refused to go get the music scores on his order. Jack was hard on everyone, but, for some reason, he was less like that when it came to a certain boy.

Jack had always fascinated with the way Roger just did not care much about rules, even if he was disciplined. He was always alone in a corner, lost in the maze of his own thoughts, never talked to anyone. The boy with raven hair and strangely pale skin was the only boy beside him who could reach C sharp, but he would rarely open his mouth, unless necessary. The boy had a cold glare, almost intimidating to Jack. Everyone called him Scary Eyes, a name which Jack guessed he was not too fond of. Even if he was somehow feared by the whole school, Jack still had a rather strange fancy for him. He was interested in every aspects of that boy, except for one.

Roger was protective of Simon.

Simon was that mystic boy who could always faint everywhere, and would always look out of the window during Choir practice or practically anything, focused on his "precious" nature. Jack did not mind this, of course, as long as he sang the right notes and the right parts, which he somehow always did. Different from Roger, who could never do anything properly, Simon was always the best at everything, despite all his daydreaming.

Everything was fine, of course, until the day Jack walked pass the classroom during break. He heard crying coming from the inside. He knew those voices. He heard them everyday during Choir practice. He peeked in through the slightly opened door.

He saw Roger's head buried in Simon's chest. The sobbing was from Roger. Jack saw Simon lightly stroking the other's hair, his face hidden within the other's black hair. Jack's fist clenched tight at the thought of someone taking his exclusive place by Roger's side. His nails dug into the sweaty palms, trying hard not to lose his head. His teeth gritted. Roger was his, and his only. It was not love, more like possessiveness over an object of obsession. He heard the small whispers between the two boys. It enraged him even more.

"You're not alone anymore. You have me now, and I'm not afraid of you."

"For real?"

For a moment, Jack thought Simon was going to laugh maliciously, saying it was all a joke, and it would be his turn to comfort the raven inside that room. It would have been better that way, at least that was what he thought.

"For real."

They were not the most pleasant words to Jack. He wanted to be the one to say it to Roger. It was supposed to be him in that room, running his hand through the matte black hair, whispering soft and comforting words, actions which he had no means of telling if he had the capability to commit, to the damaged boy inside. He felt a fire burning up his insides as he watched them wrapping their arms around one another. He wanted his Roger back.

..

It was raining heavily. Simon was ordered to carry the music sheets for Choir that day from the Music room to where the Choir practiced. He was clumsy, as always, and the sheets were scattered all over the floor as he tripped over some water and fell. He, however, was aided by Roger, who was standing quite a distance from there. The scene irritated Jack, as he specifically ordered Simon to carry the sheets to make him trip on purpose, since there was some water on the floor from the rain outside. He wanted to make fun of him, no, kick him out of the Choir for whatever reason he could find (that was relevant, of course).

Seeing that a few sheets had been soaked in water from the rain, Jack stepped in between Simon and Roger as they were collecting the sheets on the floor, his back towering over Roger. The cold blue eyes glared down at the small boy in front of him, the same glare his mother would use on him every time he disappointed her.

Simon flinched at the bone-chilling light from the Chapter Chorister's narrow eyes. He did not dare to look up, wondering what he had done wrong. His eyes glanced pass a few fallen, soaked music sheets. Then, it dawned on him. Jack never liked having the music sheets damaged.

"Do you have any idea how much these old sheets worth?" The Chapter Chorister gritted his teeth,

"I.. I'm sorry." Simon mouthed his apology, not daring to speak up.

"Will sorry make up for the damages you've caused?"

"N-no."

Simon's eyes were brimming with tears and it irritated Jack even further. He took it upon himself to kick this annoying, pathetic cry-baby out of the Choir at all cost. He glanced at the puzzled-looking Roger behind him, putting all his trust on the loyalty he assumed the other boy would have. His mind flashed back to the time when a significant raven-haired boy would always promise to be by his side, to be his second-in-command, his right hand, his. Maybe he did not say the latter, but Jack had interpreted it from what the other told him.

"Well, then, I want you out of the Choir this instance." Coldly, Jack spat the words with utmost cruelty. His blue eyes glinted that eerie light that chilled Simon to the bones.

"No." A voice from behind Jack replied for Simon. Jack did not need to turn back to see who it was.

"It's not your turn to speak, Roger."

What was it he was feeling? Jack asked himself. Was it guilt? Why was he feeling guilt just from saying that to that one black-haired boy?

"It wasn't Simon's fault." Roger protested.

"I don't care. He wasn't careful enough, and that's his fault."

For a while, Roger went back to being his silent self.

"It's my fault." He finally said, causing the whole Choir to turn to him in surprise.

"What!" Jack half screamed, half questioned Roger. "You can't be responsible for that! You didn't do anything!"

"I am, for Simon."

Jack clenched his fists until his knuckles were white from all the pressure. His face was red with rage and the freckles seemed to have disappeared from the redness of his skin. Roger was supposed to stand by him.

Him.

"Please, whatever you do, don't kick Simon out of the Choir." Roger stared at Jack. His eyes were weak, defeated, submitted, to Jack. But, at the same time, those black orbs were looking at Simon's brilliant green ones in a way that was so caring and gentle.

That was when the word crossed Jack's mind.

Hiraeth.

The feelings he had were like walking into a house he knew very well he never belonged to him, but still inclined to live in it forever, declaring that it was his home. His.

How miserable.

Jack bit his lip, walking away from Roger, Simon and the sheets on the floor. His fists still clenched tight.

"You two are lucky today." He mumbled before commanding the Choir to go and pick up the scattered music sheets. Everyone complied. They all knew how scary Jack was when enraged.

The feelings rushed into Jack. He did not know what to feel, for all his emotions had been bottled up too much. The years that he used trying to meet with his parents' expectations had taught him to restrain his feelings, to not let them affect his academic performance.

That was why Jack hated losing, to anyone.

And why he hated losing that certain black-haired boy even more.