I actually started working on something else, but following episode 4, this happened. Hope you enjoy it.
Kieren sat, still, steady. He looked calm, quite fine. But inside he was a mess. His heart was working overtime inside of his chest and his thoughts were racing, overlapping and all scrambling for attention inside of his brain. Look at me, look at me. One thought was more prominent than the rest though. Fuck it.
Simon was stood in the doorway but, although aware of his body, Kieren forgot about him for just a moment.
He looked down, raised his shaking fingers to his eyes, and slowly, cautiously, removed his contact lenses. Tiny reminders of the person he was a long, long time ago.
Flicking them to the ground, he felt a sense of relief, like it was a long time coming.
Blinking, he noticed himself in the mirror. There he was, those were his eyes. White, milky, ghostly.
Removing a cloth from his pocket, he began to wipe away the cover-up from his cheek. He had never liked it anyway. Caked on, too thick. He always felt like his skin was suffocating, and it was all just because people couldn't handle the colour of his skin.
He abruptly remembered Simon.
He was still stood firmly to the spot, lingering in the doorway. His face was so unnatural. The foundation smothered across his skin. Powdery eyelashes and flaky eyebrows. He looked old and dusty. Horribly false. His contact lenses were blue and watery. He was all wrong.
Kieren suddenly felt very guilty. How could he have forced Simon to do this, for him? He stood up and looked Simon up and down. No, no, no. Wrong, so wrong.
Reaching up, he started to wipe away the foundation from Simon's skin. Simon looked pre-occupied, almost in awe. He was studying Kieren's face with such intensity, Kieren felt himself tremble beneath Simon's gaze.
He removed the make-up slowly, intimately. Layer by layer, the foundation dissolved and Simon's white, patchy skin shone through. This was Simon. This was the Simon that Kieren wanted.
Simon removed his contact lenses, and stared into Kieren's eyes. They looked at each other for the first time.
Taking the cloth from Kieren's fingertips, Simon repeated what Kieren had done to him, wiping away the remaining cover-up from Kieren's face. Gently, soft strokes across his skin.
Simon had shown himself as a normal human for Kieren, and Kieren was grateful. But the fact was, they weren't normal humans, not anymore.
Although still cautious about Simon's cult status, he had to admit that there were elements of truth in his beliefs. If anything, he was right about the make-up. It was rendered pointless now.
You wear cover-up? Everybody knows you're wearing cover-up, and therefore they all know what you are. You don't wear cover-up? Well, everybody knows what you are anyway. Either way, you are a PDS sufferer and there's no hiding it, no running away from it. You are who you are, you take what you're given and you do what you're told because you're not quite a human, but you're still there.
"I'm so sorry." Kieren whispered. And he was. Ever-so. The afternoon had been a disaster. His parents had been unfair, his sister had been unhelpful, and Gary had been an unprecedented disgrace.
Kieren looked down at his shoes. Simon placed his hand beneath Kieren's chin, and lifted his head.
"Hey. Don't be sorry. Why are you sorry?" Simon asked. His voice was quiet, sympathetic.
"Everything, just- everything. For this afternoon, for judging you, for being so closed-minded, I guess." Kieren said. He was sad, his voice was sad and his face was sad and Simon could see it.
He pulled Kieren close and embraced him.
Kieren's head nestled in the crook of Simon's neck.
"You have nothing to be sorry about, Kieren. This afternoon wasn't your fault. Gary was shameful and you were honest, and if nobody can handle that then, sod them. I'm sorry I know they're your family, but why shouldn't you talk about what you went through? You didn't choose to go through it, and you shouldn't have to keep it to yourself. As for judging me, well, don't worry about it, okay? I come on strong, too strong sometimes. I'd judge me. But you've got to believe me when I say this, we're on the same team, Kieren. I want what's best for us, I'm fighting for our safety."
Kieren looked up at Simon. He was a smart man, and there was no doubting it. Kieren knew he was right. He didn't choose to be like this, none of them chose to be like this. He didn't physically turn himself into this state and force himself out of the grave. Why was he being punished by everyone for being this way?
"Kieren, look, things are going to happen, things that even I can't help-"
"Wait, stop talking. I don't want to talk about anything else."
Simon furrowed his eyebrows and looked at Kieren with confusion on his face.
Kieren moved his arms from Simon's embrace, and placed a hand on Simon's chest.
Their foreheads touched. Cold skin on cold skin.
"Would it be cheesy of me to ask you to kiss me?" Kieren breathed. His heart was beating like a manic drum again, but this time for an entirely different reason.
"Not at all." Simon smiled, softly.
He leaned forward and kissed Kieren.
His hands cradled Kieren's face, feeling his frozen skin void of make-up for the first time. He felt as icy as mountains, as smooth as pebbles and as soft as velvet. His skin sent shivers down Simon's spine.
The kiss was somewhere between gentle and ferocious and it didn't seem to matter which, neither of them cared. They just didn't care anymore, they simply wanted to be as close to each other as was humanly possible.
Peppered, broken, rapid kisses upon chapped, trembling lips.
They stumbled into the darkness of the bedroom, their hands tugging at their clothing wildly, no sense of anything other than each other, their desire and their juxtaposing icy warmth.
"Simon." Kieren whispered, as Simon threw his own shirt to the floor. Kieren hadn't seen Simon's flesh before. Scars, marks, scratches and wounds. His torso looked like an experiment.
Kieren's wandering eyes hadn't gone unnoticed.
"I know, right? Bit of a mess."
"No, no. I just- I didn't realise-"
"Ssh. Stop talking." Simon smirked.
He wrapped his arms around Kieren and kissed him so hard, Kieren forgot everything.
Music, his family, the invention of the toaster, the snow outside, Amy, roast beef, the internet, religion, Maxine Martin, art, the Rising, books, hills, space, light, time, everything bad, everything good. Every single thing that ever was, Kieren forgot about it. Nothing existed.
Just him, and Simon. Him and Simon, right here, right now, their lips moving together, their naked chests against each other, their hands all over their bodies, their skin, their heartbeats, their sweat and their breath. Nothing in the entire world mattered at this moment in time, other than Kieren Walker and Simon Monroe.
There were only two sounds, resonating from the dark, pitch black bedroom. They were relatively quiet, but in the absolute silence of the room, they sounded louder than they actually were.
A clock, ticking rhythmically from the bedside table. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Over and over.
The snow was falling, floating faintly in the still night beyond the window.
And heavy breathing.
Simon and Kieren were quite calm, next to each other beneath the duvet cover.
Their chests heaved, and harsh, weighty pants of breath pushed through their lungs, up their throats and out of their mouths.
Skin glistening, cold sweat settled over their bodies. Glittering faces.
"You okay?" Simon whispered into the darkness, his voice was hoarse, his eyes were closed.
"I feel so good." Kieren laughed under his breath. "You?"
"Mm. Very good."
Kieren turned onto his side. He could just make out Simon's face in the dark.
"Are you smiling?"
"Absolutely not."
"Liar."
The title is a song by the Chemical Brothers. Equally, it's just the word snow. I'm not very inventive, I'll give you that. Thanks for taking the time to read this, and I hope it didn't disappoint.