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It took some getting used to, being alive. When you’ve spent the last 5 years being partially-deceased you forget that you have to eat three times a day, wear sun cream, take showers. You also forget what it’s like to be able to feel, to hold a hand in yours and say whether it is soft or rough, hot or cold, sweaty or dry. To feel the heat of the sun on your face, and smell the fresh air and the tea you drink every morning.
Kieren is sifting through a pile of clothes, running his hands over the material, pressing it to his face, taking in every aspect of it and then laying it to one side. Simon is leaning against the open doorway, a sad half-smile on his face. He loves this man, he truly does, but what’s happening is scaring him. He doesn’t want to stay immortal while Kieren can get damaged, or sick, or die.
“Kieren,” he says gently, holding up the neurotriptyline syringe, “would you mind?”
Kieren turns around, eyes wide, not having realised that Simon was watching him. “Yeah, sorry, of course. I was just…” He gestures vaguely to the sea of clothes around him, unable to find an explanation for what he was doing.
Simon sits down on the bed, bracing himself. The administration does get easier, but that doesn’t mean it’s any more comfortable. Kieren kneels behind him, he hates doing this. Before it was a sort of shared suffering, something they both dealt with. But now it just feels like hurting Simon.
Simon exhales as the needle is removed from the hole in his spine. “I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”
Kieren watches him go, memorising the feel of the rough, woollen jumper under his fingers.
His fingers go to pick up the book he left on the sofa, and they are shaking. Simon pauses, standing up straight, and regards his shaking hand with interest, rather than fear.
“Kieren!”
A few seconds later Kieren is standing in front of Simon, but the shaking has already stopped.
“Kieren,” Simon murmurs quietly, still staring at his hands, “how long did it take for you to warm-up?”
“Um, about a week? Why?” He stares in confusion at Simon, “Simon, what is it?”
“Probably nothing. Don’t worry about it.” He looks up at Kieren’s brown eyes and flushed cheeks, “What do you want for dinner?”
Living also means, unfortunately, having to disinfect and re-bandage his wounds. He’s glad to have Simon to help him. Having his mum or dad treat the scars he gave himself probably wouldn’t do their relationship any good.
He hisses as the disinfectant stings his flesh, and almost pulls away. Simon shushes him softly, and strokes around the wounds with his fingertips as he cleans them.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to feeling pain again.” He half laughs as Simon starts to wind the bandages around his right wrist.
“No-one ever does. That’s why it hurts, Kieren.”
“Oh, shut up.” But Kieren’s smiling, and so is Simon, until his hand starts shaking.
“Crap.” Simon mutters, trying and failing to put the bandage on straight.
Kieren holds onto Simon’s hand until the tremors stop, “Simon…” he breathes softly.
“Kieren, we don’t have to do this. I know what he meant to you-“
“Shut up Simon, its fine.”
Simon grunts but continues to follow Kieren into the woods, towards the Den.
It’s dark, and damp, and honestly Simon can’t really see the appeal, but once Kieren sits him down and lights the candles the atmosphere of the cave changes to something more welcoming.
Kieren sits opposite Simon and starts to speak hesitantly, “This is where I- where I did it. This exact spot-“
Simon silences him with a kiss, gentle and caring. Telling Kieren everything he cannot express with words. Kieren leans into it, relishing in the sensation of lips against lips, gasping at the rush of endorphins. God, being alive is brilliant. He presses Simon against the cold wall, hands caressing the back of his neck. Simon holds him and kisses down his neck; Kieren can’t help but gasp-
And all of a sudden Simon's not kissing him any more, but touching his face, wiping away a drip of black blood.
Simon’s pulling on his coat, he has to go get milk, they ran out yesterday and it’ll be time for tea soon.
“Simon, where’re you going?” Kieren calls from the living room.
“Getting milk, we ran out yesterday. Remember?”
Kieren walks to the hallway, pencil in hand, “No, Simon, you already bought a new carton this morning.”
“I did?”
Kieren laughs slightly, shaking his head, “Yeah, you did.”
The look of confusion on Simon’s face is priceless.
The sun is shrouded in clouds as they make their way to Kieren’s house for Sunday lunch. Kieren’s stomach rumbles in anticipation of the no-doubt delicious meal his mum has prepared.
Today its beef with roast potatoes and carrots, and it smells gorgeous. Everyone sits down and they fall into easy conversation.
“So, Jem, how’d you do in your exams?” Kieren asks his mouth full of half-chewed potato.
She shrugs, “Alright, I guess. I got an A in French.”
Kieren swallows his food and smiles, “That’s great Jem! Now it’ll be you that’s gonna go exploring foreign places.”
She smiles slightly, “Thanks Kier.”
Sue senses the impending awkward silence and interjects, “Anyone for more carrots?”
Kieren nods, and as a second helping is placed onto his plate, Simon steals one and pops it in his mouth.
All eyes at the table instantly turn to him.
“Shit!” He spits out the semi-chewed carrot into a tissue, and noticing that everyone is still staring at him (apart from Kieren who’s grinning stupidly at his plate), stutters something about old habits.
Kieren is still asleep. His lips are parted slightly as he breathes in and out. His long, pale lashes fan across the curve of his eye. There’s an errant curl sticking up from his head. He’s angelic.
Simon drinks in every part of him, every freckle, and every mark. Never, in all his years of life, has he felt so completely content.
Kieren breathes in deeply once more, and wakes up. Eyes blinking slowly to focus on Simon’s, he smiles.
Simon smiles back, “Mornin' you.”
Kieren just hums, not quite awake enough to speak yet.
The clouds break and a beam of light shines through the curtains onto Simon’s bare chest, it’s warm.
“Kieren?”
Kieren forces his eyes open a little more, “Yeah?” he manages to croak out.
“The sun’s warm.” Simon places his hand on Kieren’s chest, “So are you.”
Kieren moves so that their chests are touching, and takes Simon’s hands in his own, “S'nice, isn’t it.”
They’re walking to the graveyard. Amy would have wanted to know what was happening to them, she would have been amazed. They carry their flowers, a selection of brightly coloured roses, and lay them down next to her gravestone.
Kieren starts, “Amy, you wouldn’t believe what’s happened. Simon and I are changing! We’re coming back to life, just like you were...” He pauses, thinking over what happened, “We still miss you.”
Simon takes Kieren’s hand, feeling his pulse under his fingers.
“I’m sorry Amy,” he mumbles, squeezing Kieren’s hand, “I’m so sorry.”
There’s a brief moment of silence, and then suddenly Simon is gasping and clutching his chest, and Kieren is holding his shoulders, asking him what’s wrong. And then Simon’s breathing is evening out, and his hand is still on his chest because his heart is beating. Oh Christ! His heart is beating.
Kieren, overjoyed at no longer being disconnected from Simon, kisses him fervently. Simon pulls away from him ever so slightly, “Can we not do this here?”
Kieren nods and they walk back to the bungalow, hand in hand.