Kieren Walker sighs as he surveys the almost empty room that has been his bedroom for the last twenty-three years. Well, eighteen years the first time around and then another year after The Rising.
After the four years he was away, when he came home he was surprised to find that his parents had kept his room exactly as he left it.
Left it.
Kieren smiles grimly to himself at the term. Yes, he had certainly left it, if you call, slitting your wrists and spending a month buried in the ground, moving out? Or rising as a Rabid, without a thought in your head, except for that unquenchable hunger to kill every living person who crossed your path for almost three months, moving out? Or even being captured, medicated and rehabilitated for what seemed like forever in Norfolk, moving out?
This time around though, he was properly leaving home and funeral directors need not apply.
The story was that he was moving out to be housemates with Simon at the bungalow. That was what he had told his parents anyway, but everyone knew Simon was a little more to Kieren than just someone to share the utility bills with.
In case you have been living under a rock in Roarton over the past few months, Simon Monroe had arrived out of the blue one day with Amy Dyer, the now second time dead, PDS or Partially Deceased Syndrome Sufferer (Note: we do not appreciate the term Rotter, and anyone who uses it can leave right now, by the way) and riled up the local community somewhat, with his radical Undead Liberation Army views on the village's partially deceased population. That was all before Kieren though, as nothing brings what is really important into sharp focus quite like falling for someone, even for one of the twelve disciples of the Undead Prophet.
Kieren's mum and dad, Sue and Steve Walker, had at least warmed to Simon over the past few months. Saving Kieren's life back in December... well second life. Or should that be existence? Anyway, whatever it is now; taking a bullet for Kieren went some way to persuading them that he was an okay sort of a bloke and not the bad influence they originally feared.
His dad had accepted the housemate explanation at face value. Steve was always good at believing what he wanted to believe. One thing was accepting that his son was partially deceased, but coming to terms with the fact that his son was in a relationship with another man almost ten years his senior - even if aging was not really a concern for either of them anymore - was something that would take time.
"He's a very friendly chap, that Simon," Steve had remarked to Sue in the kitchen during one of their movie marathon evenings, after Simon spent the entire night with his arm draped around Kieren's shoulders on the sofa. Their thighs were pressed tightly together from hip to knee, while hands occasionally brushed familiar skin and sometimes even came to rest on familiar limbs. Steve had observed all of the above, but as was his way, rationalised it as his son's friend just being, "very hands on."
"Yes, he and Kieren do seem to get on well," Sue agreed. "I'm glad he's got a good friend now, yer know, after what happened with Rick."
She poured the microwave popcorn into a bowl and handed it to her husband to take back in to the living room, careful not to look at him in case he read the truth about their son in her eyes. She knew her husband would get there in his own time and in his own way.
Steve thought for a moment, and then realisation crossed his features. "He's probably an artist too! Very touchy feely those artistic types."
Sue had just smiled, "Yeah, that's probably what it is."
She knew her son well enough, not to mention knew human nature (regardless of the degree of living of those individuals) to see that theirs was clearly not an average friendship.
The general 'no kissing in front of his parents' policy Kieren and Simon had decided upon by silent agreement did not prevent the shared looks and affectionate gestures they constantly gave one another every time Simon visited. The way the two men were around each other, even from the first time he brought him home, was like a speakerphone shouting in a mother's ear, "This could be the one!"
His sister, Jemima, who Kieren had never kept any secrets from growing up, realised what the deal was immediately.
She and her mum had played along when he had announced his plans over breakfast one morning (which of course he did not eat, but still went through the charade for his family's sake).
"Thought the bungalow only had two bedrooms, Kier?" Jem asked bluntly, not making any attempt to hide a knowing grin, "Or are yer going to be kipping on the sofa?"
"Well, I'm sure Simon will have cleared out Amy's old room ready for when Kieren moves in," Sue had responded quickly and before Steve could start asking any awkward questions. "Isn't that right, love? Won't be a problem, I'm sure. Could yer pass me the marg, please?"
Kieren reached over to pass her the tub of margarine and confirmed the lie, "Yeah, that's right mum."
"I think it's very practical with the price of council tax these days," Steve had agreed, lifting his mug to his lips and then inspecting it disappointingly, "I could do with a top up, anyone for another cuppa tea?"
And to Kieren's relief, that was the end of the subject.
The reality was, they had left Amy's room exactly as it was for her, just as Kieren's parents had done for him. It seemed silly, but neither Simon nor himself could bring themselves to clear her things out, even if she was not going to be coming back from the grave for a second time.
The Second Rising had not happened and although the dead now could never again be considered as gone for good, it seemed too much to hope to see his BDFF again. (That stands for Best Dead Friend Forever, in case you were wondering?)
Taking the black marker pen from the window ledge, Kieren scribbles 'ART SUPPLIES' in bold letters across the top of the cardboard box on his bed, having sealed it securely with brown packaging tape across the lid. He can hear his dad's muffled voice below in the living room. Simon is helping him set up his new Smart TV, after an accident involving Jem and their cordless phone had sent the last flat screen to television heaven. The new model was not only high definition, but 3D ready too, a fact his dad had explained at least three times already, so they could watch "all those new 3D Blu-rays" he had bought recently.
Taking one last look around his room, to satisfy himself his job is complete; Kieren picks up his suitcase and carries it down the stairs. Placing it by the front door, he makes his way in to the living room to check on how Simon and his dad are getting on.
Something is amiss.
The room is dark with the curtains drawn, despite the fact it is barely two in the afternoon. Both men turn to look at Kieren as he enters and he immediately has to stifle a laugh.
They are both wearing dark glasses.
"Wow, it's a bit bright in here, isn't it?" Kieren says wearing his best poker face, "I can see why you're both wearing sunglasses indoors!" He did not need to look at Simon to know he was glaring at him, so directs his gaze at the slightly blurry screen ahead, trying to keep a straight face.
"They're 3D glasses, Kier," Steve tells him enthusiastically. "They make what's on the screen look… well, 3D actually."
"Really? Never have guessed that, dad. Thought the new flat screen yer got was just faulty," but his attempt at sarcasm was lost on his father.
"No, yer wear these son, and it looks like things are really coming out at yer." Steve nods towards the box the TV has arrived in, now abandoned in the far corner of the room. "There's a spare pair in there, you should take a look for yourself."
"It's fine, take mine," Simon says in his thick Dublin accent, jumping to his feet from the sofa and revealing piercing white eyes as he takes off the glasses, handing them to Kieren.
Clearly he is itching to hurry this conversation along, so they can leave as soon as possible. There is, after all, only so much Blu-ray talk a person can handle as Kieren knows only too well from past experience.
"I was about to go outside for a smoke anyways," Simon remarks as he heads for the front door, making his escape.
Both men watch him leave before turning their attention back to the marvel of 3D technology. Kieren does his best to pay attention, but he is distracted, consumed with an overwhelming sense of gratitude towards Simon for his continued patient indulgence of his family. Not to mention his valiant effort in sticking it out all morning with his dad, as Kieren begins to wonder if he will even make it through so much as five minutes of this.
Ten minutes later and numerous 3D Blu-rays tested, Kieren is back in his room collecting the last of his things to take downstairs, when he hears a soft tap on the open bedroom door.
He turns to find Simon slouching against the doorframe, "Ye all done up here?"
"Think so, just about," Kieren answers, zipping up his old worn backpack that lays beside his A3 portfolio and boxed up art supplies on his bed.
Simon walks fully into the room, looking about him in silence. His pale eyes survey the space around him, like a detective looking for clues. He gestures towards the numerous artworks on the wall, which Kieren painted before he died.
"You're not taking those with ye?"
The fact that he purposely is not making eye contact does not go unnoticed by the younger man. Simon has been subtle, but they both knew his question only refers to one painting in particular; the portrait of Rick Macy.
It hangs against the near wall next to the bedroom door, directly in front of the Kieren's single bed and could easily be considered as taking pride of place in the small room.
This is slightly awkward.
Kieren tries to think of the best way to explain without making anything sound too heavy or a big deal. Even though, in the grand scheme of things it is, in fact, a very big deal indeed for him.
Only seconds pass as he considers what the right words are to use. He needs to try and convey several important things that they have never really discussed before. The most important being the way he feels and how things have changed for him now Simon is in his life – sorry, second life - but the silence stretches out between them as if it were hours.
Finally, he just purses his lips in determination and tries to make his next sentences sound as casual as possible.
"Nah, I was thinking of leaving them behind. They're part of my old life now." Simon looks up sharply as Kieren gradually edges nearer to him. "Haven't you noticed? I'm moving on," he finishes cheerily, planting a gentle kiss on Simon's lips. His parents were downstairs, so it is not breaking their self imposed rule.
Now, see? That was not so difficult.
"That's good." Simon smiles, taking Kieren's face in his hands and kissing him again.
And it was true.
Rick had meant everything to Kieren back then, more than his own life. So much so, that he had ended it all when he heard Rick had been killed in Afghanistan. He still loved Rick and still missed him everyday. He visited his grave often in the new cemetery and told him the things that were going on in Roarton. He passed on all the local gossip regarding people they knew; who was up to what and even sometimes with whom, and generally rambled on about all the new developments in his life now. He had even told Rick about Simon.
Or rather, him and Simon.
If Rick had still been around, what would he have thought about that? Kieren could not help but wonder, but then felt guilty because of it. Would there even be a 'him and Simon' if Rick were still partially alive and kicking?
There did not seem much point wasting time thinking about it. Rick was dead, and just like Amy, it was for good this time.
But Simon was not.
He might be registered as partially deceased, but as far as Kieren was concerned, he was very much alive. Most important of all though, he made Kieren feel alive too.
But there was one other big difference between Rick and Simon. Something that clearly separated one man from the other as individuals, regardless of the strong emotional bond Kieren had come to share with each of them.
The thing about Simon was he was not afraid of who he was and what he wanted. Sure, a lot of the time his attitude was that consequences be damned, but Kieren had been a positive influence on him and he had reigned in those impulses and tried to be the 'normal person' he had asked him to try to be.
It had surprised Kieren at first - not to mention deeply touched him - that Simon was prepared to do anything within his power to make him happy. Spending all those meals and nights in with his family and agreeing to do things like help out his dad with that stupid telly, demonstrated how hard he was trying, but Simon had sacrificed a lot more than just his time to be with him.
He had turned his back on the Undead Liberation Army for Kieren. The people who had taken him in, given him friendship and love, but most importantly, something to live for. He had found them at a time when he was at his lowest and most desperate. While all other doors had been closed to him, only they had welcomed him in from the cold loneliness of his isolation, accepted him for who he was and showed him there was another way.
The ULA stood for everything Simon believed in and what he had come to hold most dear, but now he was considered a traitor to the cause, because when it came down to it, there was what he believed and then there was Kieren. He could not have both, and when he was finally forced to make a choice between the two, he followed his heart.
It was choice that had given them some problems, to put it mildly, with the devout redeemed of Roarton. Although Simon kept it well hidden from Kieren, he was always watching his back. Those faithful followers would never forgive him for not slaughtering Kieren like a sacrificial lamb, as the Undead Prophet had instructed him to do, in the belief that it would trigger The Second Rising.
After a long moment, Kieren is the first to break the kiss, but does not pull away completely. He has something else to say to Simon that he has been meaning to tell him for a while.
There really is no time like the present, as they say, and as he seems to be on a roll, he takes a deep breath and goes for it.
"Listen Simon, thanks for doing this."
Simon shrugs. "S'okay, no worries. Makes sense both of us moving your stuff, rather than ye making two journeys."
Kieren knows Simon is a humble man in his own way and does not want an issue made out of this. He is being deliberately obtuse, but it is important he knows how much his efforts are appreciated.
"I don't mean that," Kieren persists, "I mean for helping me dad with the telly, but not just that, all the other stuff too."
Simon continues to wave it off as nothing, but Kieren can be a stubborn as a mule when he wants to be, and will not easily be placated.
"I actually think me mum and dad quite like yer, and yer do realise you've done the impossible with Jem? She actually told me the other day that she thought you were "alright", which coming from Jem, translates as really high praise."
Simon laughs out loud at this, something of a rare occurrence.
"Jesus, don't sound so surprised! Your parents and sister are grand, but they don't owe me anything. I do it for you Kieren, because ye asked me to."
"I know," and this time it is Kieren's turn to shrug uncomfortably, while he plays casually with the buttons on Simon's shirt, smoothing out the non-existent wrinkles down his chest. "I just wanted you to know that I was grateful, is all."
Simon cups both hands around the back of Kieren's neck to draw him closer and looks straight into his eyes.
"Believe me, I'm no saint, but I told ye once before, ye just need to tell me what ye want and I'll do anything I can to give it to ye. Okay?"
Kieren nods silently, it is all he can manage. Not quite finding his voice, he notices absently that his mouth has gone dry at some point during their conversation.
He has never had someone like Simon in his life before, and the realisation of how much he genuinely cares about him and the emotion that generates, is hard for someone like Kieren to get his head around. He never dared dream anyone would want him, especially now, but Simon does.
And Simon is not just anybody.
Simon is travelled, educated and cultured. He is also very charismatic and charming when he wants to be. Could have just about anyone that caught his eye, living or dead (quite possibly) if he put his mind to it. He was amazing, and the most extraordinary part was, he thought Kieren was, in his own words, "incredible" too.
His mum had commented on it only once during a trip to Shop 'n' Save. The supermarket held disturbing memories for Kieren, from the time he was in his untreated state, but he was determined to confront his demons and thus agreed to go with Sue on her weekly shop. If talking about Simon was what she wanted to do to occupy them both on their visit, she was not going to get any argument from him.
"I swear, your Simon could charm the birds out of the trees," she had told him, smelling the latest fragrance of antibacterial washing up liquid. "Don't like that much, it's meant to be grapefruit and lavender. Take a whiff of that? Smells more like those dandelions I've asked your dad three times to put weed killer on in the back garden. He still hasn't done it." She chose her regular bottle and placed it in the trolley, before moving on to the next item on her shopping list.
Kieren followed behind, responsible for driving the trolley as they made their way around the isles.
"What makes yer say that? About Simon I mean, not the weeds, obviously."
"Nothing in particular," she mused. "He's just a nice lad, that's all. Yer can never judge a book by its cover."
"Not sure all the residents of Roarton would agree with yer there, mum," Kieren pointed out.
Sue was now looking for her usual brand of washing powder, tutting in annoyance that they were out of stock.
"Totally infatuated he is," she confirmed.
Kieren frowned. "Ay?"
"With you. My son," she added, just a little proudly.
"Mum, I," he began to protest, but his mother just smiled, putting her hand up to silence him and then rubbing his arm.
"It's okay, love. It's all I ever wanted for yer; to find someone who looks at yer like that. Like," she floundered for a moment, "Well, like you're their whole world. It reminds me of the way yer dad looked at me, once upon a time. It's the very same look Simon gives you now."
Kieren had just blinked in response, opening and shutting his mouth more than once, but not quite knowing what to say.
"It brings me comfort," she continued, "To know you'll always have somebody around who cares for yer, when we're gone. And I'm glad it's Simon, because God help anyone who ever thought to lay a finger on you, as they'll be hell to pay." She then turned her attention back to her shopping list and left Kieren wide eyed and gaping after her.
Skinny, shy Kieren Walker. Who never really fit in anywhere, or with anyone, being someone's whole world? The very idea sounded ludicrous to his ears. He had simply been too different to everyone else from the off and was always disliked for it.
It had got him banned from The Roarton Legion, ensured he was always the last to get picked for things at school by his classmates. Kieren Walker was nobody's first choice in his first life and he could not image how that could have changed much now in his second.
Rick was the only one that ever saw him, like really saw him, but even Rick could not take that final step with him. It was not that he was ashamed of Kieren, it was more the fact that he was ashamed of himself. The end result still amounted to the same thing though, and when he did eventually put Kieren first, finally standing up to his father for him, Bill killed Rick for it.
So Kieren had remained alone, lonely and unloved.
Not special.
But not anymore.
Not now with Simon in his life, standing by his side, and letting the whole world see it. No, not anymore and not ever again, especially when Simon is kissing him, the way he is again now.
"Okay," Simon finalises, "Ready to go then, before your dad finds another Blu-ray to stick on that new TV of his?"
Kieren laughs, "I think we've done our time for now with that. It'll be Jem's turn next when she gets in. Although, knowing her, she'll probably just tell me dad she doesn't give a shit and piss off straight to her room."
Throwing the backpack and portfolio across his shoulder, leaving Simon to carry the box, they both head for the stairs.
"Thinking about it, in hindsight, that's probably what we should have done," Kieren muses leading the way.
Simon rolls his eyes. "Now ye tell me."
Two hours later, they are back in the bungalow. Most of what Kieren has brought with him has found a place in Simon's bedroom. Correction, their bedroom.
Both he and Simon have few belongings between them, so Kieren's clothes easily fit into the single wardrobe, while other items have been tidied away into drawers, in no time at all. Which is good, as he has a shift at The Legion in an hour.
Reluctantly, he had accepted his old job back at the pub. Bills did not pay themselves and he had to find a means to pay his way, as the Give Back Scheme was voluntary. Well, forced volunteering anyway.
Simon had told him that he did not need to go back to the pub when he mentioned it, as he had money that would keep them both. Other than assure Kieren that the money was not by ill-gotten means, he had not offered any further explanation as to where it had come from, so Kieren had insisted on getting a job regardless.
Pearl Pinder had felt so guilty for almost shooting him after Gary Kendal had spiked him with the PDS drug, Blue Oblivion, turning him rabid, she had asked Sue if Kieren would come back to work at The Legion as she needed an extra pair of hands. She did not have the nerve to ask him directly herself, especially as the one condition was he continued to wear his cover-up mousse and contact lenses while at work, "for the punters."
The Roarton Legion was apparently doing good business, especially now there was this H2GO on the market, said to be the PDS equivalent of alcohol. It was known as HiGlow, because it was florescent green in colour. Apparently, or so Kieren had read, the biohazard glow was an additive rather than a by-product. Not so much a marketing tool thought of by the manufacturer, but a means to ensure the living would not mistake it for a regular alcoholic drink, as it was as toxic to them as regular liquids and solids were to the partially deceased.
Of course, there had been strong objections to such an intoxicant being made legally available for PDS Sufferers. People were concerned that it would lead to more rabid incidents, but the manufacturer had been able to provide evidence of tests that had been carried out which supported the fact that these concerns were unfounded. So those who could not drink were now able to visit a pub or bar just like the living, have a good time and socialise, but most importantly spend money while doing so, which no licensed house was going to object to.
Ripping the brown packaging tape off the box of art supplies, Kieren begins unpacking the paints, brushes and charcoal on the table. Considering where he is going to store them, he looks up to find pale eyes watching him, a hint of a smile on Simon's lips.
"I've left your easel in the hall as wasn't sure where ye wanted it."
"Thanks, I'm not sure yet," Kieren considers, "Wherever's got the best light, I guess."
A pair of cool arms encircles his waist from behind, chin resting on his shoulder, as Simon watches Kieren continue to remove items from the box.
"That'll be wherever you are then," he whispers against his neck.
Sometimes Simon says the strangest things, but Kieren has learned not to ask. He would never admit it, but that is one of things he finds the most fascinating about him.
From the very first moment they met, Simon sitting alone on his gravestone, he had quoted the Irish poet Yeats and Kieren realised he could not think of a single person of his acquaintance that knew the poem, 'An Irish Airman Foresees His Death', let alone could recite it. Amy had been besotted with Simon when she arrived back with him from the commune, and straight away Kieren could see why.
Finally, not to mention with some difficulty, Kieren extracts himself from Simon's embrace to go to the bathroom where his cover-up mousse, contact lenses and other PDS camouflage paraphernalia have found a home in the bathroom cabinet.
"Time to go make myself look acceptable for work," he calls back, sarcasm mixed with a heavy dose of resignation in his tone.
He looks at his desaturated eyes and mottled skin in the mirror. The harsh light of the bathroom fluorescent lights, make his appearance look even more supernatural, as if he has an almost ethereal glow.
"Yeah, got to blend in with all the upstanding living residents of Roarton. Don't want to make them feel uncomfortable."
Simon appears in the doorway, looking at Kieren's reflection in the mirror as he takes out a small bottle of Moist Everafter Eye Lotion. He applies a few drops in each eye and blinks rapidly, so his contact lenses will not chafe too much when he puts them in.
"We should be hidden from their eyes,
Being but holy shows,
And bodies broken like a thorn,
Whereon the bleak north blows."
Yeats again.
Kieren looks at him through the mirror. "Have yer got all of Yeats' poems memorised?"
Simon shrugs, "Only the ones I like. Yeats was one of me mum's favourites."
"Oh, sorry," Now Kieren feels bad for commenting on it.
Simon told him what had happened during The Rising with his mother. How he had come home in his untreated state and killed her. Then, after returning from the treatment centre, his father had not been able to forgive him and subsequently threw him out that very same night.
The sad truth is Kieren understands - despite the fact all Partially Deceased Syndrome Sufferers know only too well they have no real control over their actions while unmedicated - that Simon will never come to terms with causing the death of his mother. A photograph of the two of them together is the only possession he keeps with him from his first life, and an entire existence he does his best to forget.
Once the mousse is applied and brown Irisalways Contact Lenses in place, Kieren lets out a small sigh at the transformation in front of him. There was a time when Kieren could not bear to look at himself au naturel. Lately, however, he found quite the opposite to be true.
"Gorgeous!" Simon's tone is somewhere between good-natured ridicule and complete sincerity, but he does not miss the look Kieren gives him, which is frankly far from amused by the assessment.
He tries again, narrowing his eyes in genuine inspection, trying to find something positive to say.
"Good job, ye look very… alive?" Kieren at the very least is far more adept at applying cover up than he is, but then again, he has had far more practice at it.
Approaching Kieren, he pulls at his collar to find the point on his neck, where the mousse ends and pale flesh shines through like a beacon. Finding it, he leans in for a kiss. It is a blatant attempt at distraction and for a moment it works. All conscious thought escapes Kieren until he finally pushes Simon abruptly back.
"And you can stop that too."
"What?" Simon raises his eyebrows innocently, but his gaze is now focused intently on Kieren's lips. It doesn't take a lot for Simon to get Kieren flustered and they both know it.
"Stop," he searches for the right words, not quite knowing what to say in order to explain the effect Simon has on him - especially when he is looking at him like that!
Frustrated, Kieren gestures to literally all of the man standing in front him, hoping he will get the message, and lamely finishes, "…that."
Simon grins wickedly. "Oh, you mean that?"
"Yeah, that. And there can't be any of that, not now anyway. I've got to go to work in a minute."
His objections appear to fall on deaf ears. He makes a feeble attempt to try again, but his efforts do not seem to be getting him anywhere, as Simon looks far from deterred and leans in for the kill. His lips millimetres away from their target, when…
There is a knock on the door.
Saved by the bell, Kieren thinks. Well, saved by the knock anyway.
"That'll be the door," Kieren points out unnecessarily, as Simon looks down trying to compose himself, eventually moving reluctantly away. "Look on the bright side, if they're Jehovah's Witnesses, yer get to tell them that we've already been saved and given eternal life."
"Very funny," Simon shouts back from the hall, "If it's Avon, you can speak to them, as you're the one who likes wearing make-up."
Kieren only ever wears his cover-up mousse and contact lenses for work now and has done for some time. He knows Simon was right, once he took the step of not conforming and trying to look like the person he once was, rather than the person he is now, he finally felt free and did not want to go back. Yet, there was still a small part of him, who wanted to fit in, wanted to remain unnoticed, but he knew wearing make-up and contacts to conceal his dead looking skin and eyes, was not ever going to be enough to make everyone accept him.
Bearing in mind some people in Roarton would not accept him even when he was alive; he had little chance of gaining their acceptance now, regardless of his appearance and how hard he tried to hide who he really was.
So he decided to try it Simon's way instead, and at the end of the day, he is the only person that really matters to Kieren now anyway.
Simon answers the door and Kieren hears a familiar voice coming from outside. Soon Philip Wilson is standing awkwardly in the hallway, a bunch of brightly coloured flowers in his hand.
Philip is probably the last person in the village who has a problem with their condition, but he has always been a less socially confident individual than Kieren, if that is even possible, and it badly showed.
Kieran instantly feels a pang of grief for Amy upon seeing him. He knows it is not Philip's fault, but it would not be a lie to say Kieren has tried to avoid him over the last few months for that very reason. He just could not forget the look on Philip's face, the sound of his voice as he cried for help, carrying Amy in to the medical centre covered in her vivid red blood.
Amy survived leukaemia, survived death, and survived loneliness after the passing of her gran, just to be stabbed by a so-called representative of 'Pro-Living', the fanatical and now committed Victus MP, Maxim Martin. Sometimes life is just not fair, and neither is death, as it turns out.
"Yer alright, Phil?" Kieren asks, trying to be as friendly as possible to the man who made Amy's last hours on earth at least happy ones for her. She died loved, and for Amy that would have been the best way to go.
Philip looks a little surprised to see Kieren in the bungalow. "Kieren moved in today," Simon explains.
Philip nods. "Right. Well, I'm not staying. I've just come to, er, yer know, replace the flowers in Amy's room. The other ones must be wilted by now."
Kieren frowns and looks to Simon who shakes his head in a silent plea not to question it.
"Oh, well that's, erm, nice I suppose," Kieren has absolutely no idea what to say.
"Just thought she'd like it. Something nice for her, to have flowers in her room, for when she comes back, I mean."
Simon keeps his head down, his hands pressed into his jeans pockets like a guilty child, as if he knows he should not be indulging such a hope, and Kieren will tell him so once Philip has left. "Phil's been bringing flowers since Amy's funeral."
"I'd put flowers on her grave too, but there doesn't really seem to be much point. It's not like she's even there anymore."
Kieren smiles at him sadly, "Yeah, I get it. I'm sure she'd appreciate what you're doing, Phil."
"I want her to know that I was thinking about her everyday. Wouldn't want her to think I'd forgotten about her when she gets back, otherwise there'll be hell to pay. Yer know what she's like," he laughs nervously.
"Get's back? Yer know Phil, Amy was stabbed. Doctor Russo pronounced her dead. I really don't think…"
"She'll think you'd forgotten about her. She knows how much ye love her," Simon interrupts.
Philip smiles. "Yeah, I know, I'm just being silly. She'll probably call me a muppet for that too."
"Have a few things to say to me and Kieren as well, I expect," Simon jokes, eyes still directed at the floor. He shoots the odd glance up at Kieren, who is watching him open-mouthed.
Bemused, Kieren decides that it is probably time to leave, before this conversation gets any more bizarre.
"Sorry, I've gotta go, otherwise I'll be late for work," he says apologetically, and then to no one in particular, "I'll see yer later."
Simon and Kieren do not kiss goodbye, not in front of Philip, as somehow it would feel like rubbing his nose in it that they have each other, while he lost Amy.
As Kieren puts on his coat and leaves the bungalow, he replays their conversation in his head and wonders for the first time, who is right?
After all that has happened, is it so impossible for Amy to come back? And why has Simon let Philip believe that it could happen? Does he know something Kieren does not?
The thing with Simon is that you can never be certain, as he plays things quite close to his chest. They are living together now and he is fairly sure he is in love with him, and that the feeling is mutual, but he still knows so little about him.
They may have forever in front of them both for him to find out all those details he is yet to discover, but he cannot shake off the feeling that sooner would be better than later.
Especially, when it comes to Simon Monroe.
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
This is my very first fanfiction and it is going to be a long one. I had been toying with the idea of putting fingers to keyboard for several years now, but series 2 of In the Flesh moved me so deeply, I was inspired to write this. I desperately wanted to find out what would happen next, so if series 3 were never made, at least I would have some answers from my own imagination.
Disclaimer: In the Flesh, the series, original locations and characters, belong to the immensely talented writer and creator Dominic Mitchell. I hope he does not mind me borrowing them for a while, but I do promise to put them back once I am done. (Although, if I could keep Simon Monroe for my own, I certainly would!)