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Watching Kieren wipe off his make up – his 'acceptable' persona – and return to the beautiful, undead creature he truly is... was an experience he would not soon forget. Simon knew that much. In fact, he'd replayed the scene in his mind about thirty times in the last hour.
At the time, Kieren only managed to get part of Simon's own cover up off before the Irishman lost it; grasped the boy's face, and pulled him forward into a kiss.
He was done for.
The First Risen was too marvelous a creature; doe-eyed and innocent in his looks and nature, but hiding a brave soul within. He was far from weak, despite his disposition, and what one would think just looking at Kieren. He defended his friends and his beliefs with great fever and intelligence. He was fair and showed a great deal of common sense when addressing the issues and prejudice of the town. Hell. He'd even heard a story that Kieren had confronted the violent, HVF bigot who'd killed his ex-boyfriend. Rick Macy.
Though Simon couldn't bring himself to feel too remorseful about that.
Yes, it was tragic to lose one of their own. Yes, it was tragic that after getting a second chance at life... it was taken away by one of the very people who was supposed to love Rick most.
...But Rick's second death meant Kieren could be Simon's.
It was a selfish thought, but he didn't care. Couldn't care. To even think that this flawless, undead angel would ever belong to anyone else was unacceptable. They wouldn't appreciate his worth. His beauty, his strength and his mind. Christ, this boy. Infuriating and stubborn and all encompassing. He dominated more and more of Simon's mind... growing steadily since their first meeting. Even then, there'd been something intriguing about him – a spark. He was drawn to him, and it had been more than just physical attraction.
Simon could even believe that the First Rising happened just for him. Just to bring them together. To bring their paths to this point.
...Or maybe his imagination was running away with him.
He had kissed and herded the teen until he was back in his room, out of the doorway. He wanted Kieren safe in his 'territory'. He'd shifted him onto the bed and held him, placing Kieren's back against his chest; kissing his neck, the back of his head, or shoulder every so often... rumbling soothing words into his ear... calming him down after his revelation.
Eventually, the teen fell asleep. Simon stayed awake, vigilant and attentive. Arms locked secure around his charge.
Yes. His charge. His Kieren. The First Risen.
He waited another hour before finally slipping off. It had been more difficult than he'd initially thought it would be; leaving that strawberry-blonde vision curled up in his bed. But this was important. And he had an obligation. It was snowing gently by the time he left, silently trekking through the chilly, bitter darkness toward the phone-booth at the end of their street.
He slipped inside, called the Undead Prophet, and alerted him that he had found the First Risen.
And he was beautiful.
By the time Simon returned to the bungalow, it was snowing much harder. Still beautiful, soft, and fluid – reminding him of just what was waiting back home. He crept back inside, shed his coat, and made his way back to the bedroom. He only realized how tense he was when his eyes settled on Kieren again... still sleeping, still safe. His muscles relaxed, and he tugged his jumper up and over his head – leaving himself clad in a simple white t-shirt and his jeans. Simon crawled back into bed and filled his previous position, spooning his body right up behind Kieren's.
The boy stirred slightly, groaning, “...Whassit'....” he muttered sleepily.
“Shh.” Simon cooed, smiling as he nudged his nose into the soft spot behind Kieren's ear, “Go back to sleep.”
Kieren shifted a bit, “Where did j'go?” he slurred.
“Had to make a phone call. Sorry. I'm back now.” he soothed, slipping his arms around the teen's slender torso to hold him tightly once more. It seemed to help Kieren settle again, slipping back under and into his dreams. Simon nestled and carded his nose through his companion's hair – allowing their closeness to settle his own nerves.
He would make a trip to the city tomorrow. He would undoubtedly be left instructions by the Prophet on how to proceed, and then perhaps... he would be told to bring Kieren to the city. Simon smiled at the thought. He and Kieren taking a trip there, meeting everyone, showing Kieren what good he could do; how he could inspire others and lead as their First Risen...
He was optimistic.
Things would finally get better.
And he would serve Kieren with such fierce loyalty that no one – and he swore no one – would ever hurt the boy again.