Work Text:
Kieren can’t stop dreaming.
He used to dream about the Rising, or Rick, but now it’s different.
Every time he closes his eyes Simon’s there, with his stormy eyes and empowered attitude and Kieren can’t seem to keep him out.
Whenever he wakes up it’s with Simon’s face in his mind, and his head aches with frustration and he wishes it would stop.
One night Jem has to wake him up because he’s yelling, and he doesn’t tell her it was because Simon had been looming over him, his eyes piercing a hole directly through Kieren’s head.
He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him.
And in his next dream, Simon kisses him.
Simon kisses him until his lips are raw and oxygen eludes him, boxes him in against a wall and makes shivers run down Kieren’s spine.
When Kieren wakes it’s with a gasp, and an intake of shaky breaths Kieren doesn’t need.
It’s only a dream, and his mouth tastes like fire.
----
It doesn’t stop.
His mind refuses to cease churning out an endless amount of Simons, Simons that hold him close and run cold fingers through his hair.
Simons that kiss him.
He doesn’t look at the real Simon anymore. He can’t bear it.
----
Simon’s hands are rough yet soft, and as they ghost across Kieren’s face he looks as if he were touching something as precious as the moon.
“Are you alright?” His voice echoes in the cold darkness of wherever they are, and it sends a chill through Kieren’s pale skin.
After a moment he brings himself to speak; “Of course.”
Simon smiles like he doesn’t believe him, but doesn’t make an argument of it. Instead he tips Kieren’s chin up until he’s forced to look at Simon, at his sure expression and slightly amused features.
Even in the dark, his small smile warms Kieren.
“You’re beautiful.” Simon breathes into Kieren’s space, and Kieren quickly shakes his head to confuse the obvious misconception.
He’s not beautiful. He’s only Kieren.
Simon strokes a thumb across his cheek, and Kieren thinks his insides must be melting.
Simon leans down, Kieren leans up, their lips meet.
Kieren wakes up.
His mouth tastes like ice.
----
This time, it’s different.
Simon’s looming over him, his face panicked and suddenly worried.
Why was he worried?
“Oh, god, Kier,” he chokes out, and a bell sounds in Kieren’s head.
He looks down and his wrists are heavy with real, red blood.
Simon tugs him to his chest and wraps his hands around Kieren’s wrists, trying to staunch the rapid blood loss.
“No,” Kieren says, though his voice is too broken. “I’ve already died, you weren’t there. Simon?”
Simon doesn’t hear him, only gives a dry sob against Kieren’s shoulder and tugs him closer. His sob almost makes Kieren’s heart beat again.
This isn’t right. Simon doesn’t deserve to see him like this. He doesn’t want Simon to see him like this. He tries vaguely to pull away, but Simon seems intent on trying to fix things.
“It’s alright,” Simon promises in a shaky, broken voice, holding Kieren desperately close. “You’ll be alright, Kieren. You have to be.”
Kieren isn’t too sure, with the state he’s in.
From somewhere far away, he hears Simon start to speak again:
“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.”
Kieren knows the recitation, but can’t remember from where.
When he wakes up, his mouth tastes like nothing at all.
----
Kieren kisses him.
Kieren kisses Simon, and he tastes like fire and ice and nothing at all and everything in between. His hand is soft as it comes up to cradle Kieren’s face, his thumb stroking over his cheek like he’s made of porcelain.
Only this time he isn’t dreaming.
When he pulls away it doesn’t feel like a dream, and Simon gives him a bewildered look that he’s never before seen in any dreams.
Could it be real?
He doesn’t want to question it but, in his state, he has to.
But then Simon looks at him in awe with an almost-smile lifting his features, and Kieren knows it’s real.