Chapter Text
Kieren knew he was going to meet his soulmate today. Even though he kept his arms covered to avoid the uncomfortable truth of his death, he still saw the countdown whenever he got dressed and showered, not that he really needed to. His countdown was maybe an hour from the moment he got dressed, the numbers had never seemed so real, so tangible.
His parents were excited at the prospect of Kieren going to France, although Amy was not. But for once Kieren’s life was looking up. He had a goal in mind, a soulmate to meet. Perhaps his plans about going to France would be delayed to convince his soulmate to go with him, but it’d be wonderful.
Perhaps he’d meet his soulmate on the way to join up with Amy. She insisted he had to meet her betrothed and who was Kieren to deny her, he had his title of her official BDFF to uphold. Perhaps he was supposed to feel hurt that Amy had replaced him while she was gone but he was happy for her. She deserved to live. It was exciting to hear that Amy had found her soulmate while she was away.
He fantasized about his own soulmate, like he used to before his death and condition. He wondered what he’d be like, his face, his aspirations, his achievements, even what clothing he wore crossed his mind. It was strange, being so consumed by thoughts that had evaded him for so long. Now that he thought about it, what if his soulmate was a woman? Kieren spent a couple of moments chuckling at the thought, but he was sure they’d make it work even if his soulmate was a woman. They were destined after all.
His whole outlook on life had become much better after what had happened two months ago. His family was closer and Kieren and Jem were starting to fix the rift that had formed between them after his death. By no means was it perfect, but she had gotten more comfortable with him about certain topics and was able to call him her “little brother”. Cheeky girl.
He took his walk to the graveyard at a leisurely pace, not in any rush to reach his destination. He let his mind simmer beneath imperfect fantasies of a blurred body, wispy impressions of a hand grasped in his. This was it. He’d waited his whole life, and second life for this moment. That tingling sensation and gut-clenching moment that would solidify that there they were, his soulmate. It was enough to make his undead body shiver in anticipation.
Kieren reached the graveyard without even realizing it, not running into a single person on the way. It was strange. Most people went out for groceries or some socializing at the very least at this time of day. Granted, people could be staying inside a bit more after hearing about the PDS sufferers going mad on that train. Even Kieren had to admit that the event had bothered him. His thoughts on the people of Roarton came to a halt when he saw a man. A man who was perched on his grave.
Words stumbled out of his mouth without him realizing it. “Excuse me, but you’re uh you’re sitting on me grave.” It wasn’t a smooth sentence, but it got the job done.
The man turned at his words and quirked his head to the side. “This you?” he asked, receiving a nod from Kieren. “Oh, sorry.”
Kieren watched as the man gracefully lifted himself off Kieren’s grave. Jean-clad legs went up to meet a revolting green sweater underneath a gray jacket with a furred hood. The man’s skin the same as his, when it wasn’t slathered in the mousse that made his family and the general public more comfortable. Beautiful white eyes surrounded by hollowed sockets and sharp cheekbones. Slicked back black hair crowned his head. Kieren thought he was like artwork, marble that had been chiseled to perfection. He was so caught up in his examination of the man that almost missed what he was saying.
“Didn’t realize you were one of us, all that,” the man gestured at his face with his hand, “on your face.”
Kieren raised his eyebrows slightly at the statement but didn’t say a word. Amy had said something similar the day before, about how he should embrace what he is and how he looks. It was easy for her to say, Amy was always beautiful, Kieren couldn’t say the same about himself.
“Do you?” The man asked, pointing at Kieren’s grave. He didn’t wait for a reply before he was bending down and reading it. “Gone is the face we loved so dear, silent the voice we loved to hear.”
Kieren thought his epitaph was even stupider when it was read aloud, who had even picked that?
“It rhymes,” the man encouraged, trying to find something positive to say about it.
“I didn’t choose it,” Kieren reassured, trying to defend himself.
“What would you have chosen?”
“A poem?” Kieren questioned, not knowing himself what it would have been. “I kind of wanted to be cremated.” It wasn’t the best thing to say, but the man didn’t comment.
The other man licked his lips before beginning to recite a poem. “I balanced all, brought all to mind, the years to come seemed waste of breath, a waste of breath the years behind, in balance with this life, this death.” It rolled off his tongue with practiced ease and Kieren vaguely wondered if the man had practiced reciting it at some point in his life. “That’s what I’d have wanted.”
Kieren didn’t ask about what was actually on the man’s grave.
“Oh great! You guys have met!” Amy’s voice rang out in the graveyard and Kieren’s eyes looked more firmly at the man. This man was who his best friend was betrothed to.
“Not formally,” the man told her politely.
“Well, Kieren Walker, this is Simon,” she introduced. “Kieren was the one I was telling you about.” The man, Simon, simply nodded his head. She turned her attention back to Kieren. “Simon is one of the twelve disciples of the Undead Prophet.”
She sounded so excited, and Kieren could only muster up enough enthusiasm for a weak, “oh. Right.”
The man looked at him with a questioning gaze. “You’ve heard of the Liberation movement, Kieren?”
“I’ve heard some disturbing stuff,” Kieren admitted, thinking of the train incident.
“Like what?”
“People taking pills and going rabid on public transport.”
Simon had the audacity to laugh at this statement.
Seeing his uncomfortable face, Amy tried to reassure him. “That wasn’t the ULA, Handsome.”
Her term of endearment did nothing to sooth him. “They took Blue Oblivion pills and quoted Revelations, Amy,” he countered.
“How many people died in that tram attack?” Simon questioned.
“Five. Including my next door neighbor.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Kieren couldn’t tell if Simon was lying or not about his condolences. “But there are atrocities that happen on both sides.” Simon went on to list a couple of incidents where the undead were mistreated, “the judge said that Partially Deceased people were only half a person.”
“I don’t agree with that either,” Kieren retorted calmly.
“The Undead Liberation Army is about protecting The Redeemed from the Living. Because no one else will.”
It sounded almost too self-righteous in Kieren’s opinion but he kept listening.
“’When injustice becomes law resistance becomes duty.’” Amy chimed in from the sidelines.
“Exactly.”
Kieren finally felt the need to speak his piece. “Yeah well, if you could keep your resisting to yourselves that’d be great,” he told them. He understood what they were trying to do, but they were just going to make it harder for people like them in Roarton. “This place has had its troubles. It’s moved on. There’s no need to cause more of it.”
Simon quirked his eyebrows at him. “How would we be causing trouble?”
“I don’t know, by going around like you are.”
“Like we are?” Simon asked skeptically, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“Without your mousse and contacts in,” Kieren rephrased to try and get them to understand.
“This is who we are, dum dum,” Amy said with a smile.
“Yes, I know Amy-“
“It’s who you are, Kieren,” Simon stated, willing Kieren to keep eye contact with him. “And running away won’t change that.”
“I’m not…” Kieren paused. Was he running away? No, he was going to find his soulmate and start a new life. “I’m going to start a new life.”
Simon frowned at his statement. “You’ve already been given a new life,” he reassured, “And you can live it here. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”
Not long after that Kieren found an excuse to leave the pair. He wasn’t expecting to be harassed about his desire for a peaceful life. If he had to comply with a few things, who was he to judge?
It was then, on his way home, that he remembered his countdown. He pulled up his sleeve, even though he already knew what he’d see. Green numbers slashed through: 00:00:00:00:00:00:00. He’d met his soulmate, Simon Monroe. They’d talked, almost argued in the short time they’d known each other.
Kieren felt sick or the sense-memory of feeling sick. He’d met his soulmate. His countdown had reached zero. He hadn’t felt anything.