"Kier?" Jemima knocked gently on her brother's door, "Kieren, Simon's here. I called him. Can you come downstairs?"
When no answer came, Jemima turned and quietly walked back down stairs to where Simon and he mother stood. She shook her head.
Simon thought for a moment, "why don't I go up and talk to him," he suggested.
"You could give it a try, he's not let anyone in, though."
"I'll stick the kettle on then shall I?" Sue added, unsure at this point of what else to do. "Tea, Simon?"
"No, thank you," he answered absent-mindedly, continuing is way up the stairs.
"Oh, right, of course," he heard her realise, as he neared Kieren's door and entered without pausing to knock.
Inside, he found Kieren sitting knees up with his back against the wall. He was staring intently at his wrist, tracing the rough purplish scar. He was still in the clothes his worn the day before, Simon assumed he'd not moved in hours. If Kieren could cry, Simon felt his tears would most likely have run out long ago.
Kieren didn't speak to, or look at him when Simon walked into his room. Simon didn't speak either, instead he sat on the edge of the bed and waited.
Eventually, Kieren spoke. He was so quite that it took Simon a moment to realise anything had come out of his mouth.
"Hmm?"
"I said, I'm a coward," he repeated a little louder, but barley above a whisper.
"I beg your pardon, Kieren Walker?" Simon asked, surprised, moving from the bed to sit in front of Kieren.
"Look at this, Simon. Look. Rick and Amy both died twice. Murdered. And there's me, who just killed myself. I had the opportunity to live and I just...I just...gave up. They didn't even get the chance and I was too selfish, too weak to -"
"Selfish," he scoffed, "there's nothing selfish about depression, Kieren. It's not something you choose. It's a disease. And as for weak, I've never met anyone stronger. You stand up in the face of adversity everyday of your life, you resisted blue oblivion for goodness sake, you really think you're weak?" Simon took Kieren's wrist and held it up to him? "All these scars represent are a time in your existence when you were sick. That's all. You had an illness, just like Amy did, it was out of your control, just as it was hers. You're not at fault for either of their deaths, first or second time around."
Kieren let out a sob and fell forward into Simon, who wrapped his arms tightly around him. They sat like that for a while in silence, until Kieren could bring himself to pull away.
He shifted awkwardly, unsure exactly how to break the silence.
"Thanks."
"It's what I'm here for," Simon smiled gently, kissing the top of his head. "Shall we go downstairs?"