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He doesn’t like people touching his scars. Those dark lines on his wrists, badly cicatrized from the death, they were a reminder of when he lost Rick to the war, because it was his entire fault. Maybe if he hadn’t pushed so much… It was better living hided than not living at all. And, at the end, both ended dead. And then alive again.
This time, he knew it was not his fault. Or kept trying to convince himself that it wasn’t. Rick was dead for the second time, for real now, and at least this time Kieren knew who to blame. Anyway, he felt hurt, it was delicate subject.
So, nobody could touch it. Kieren always did, without noticing, when he was experiencing sadness or solitude or fear or all at the same time. As a resume, always that he felt afraid, he ran away to a bigger pain that was the scars to escape, as he once has run to death in order to escape from… well, death. Another death.
They didn’t give him physical pain, of course they didn’t; he was not able to feel anything physical anymore. All the touch now are too light, merely brushes against his cold skin. The ache was psychological, he could feel his heart became heavier and darker.
Kieren didn’t like even someone looking at them, hiding with coats and long sleeve t-shirts. It was something private, only his, a particular pain he dealt with – or maybe he didn’t – on the privacy of his thoughts.
There was an exception, however.
Laid at that rainy bored afternoon, one on the other’s arms, Simon’s fingers traced their shape, Kieren didn’t feel bad. They, the touches, were soft and seemed nice.
- Does it hurt? – Simon asked with a husky and sleepy voice.
- No. – Kieren looked at his face, the eyes smooth and a sad smile on his lips – You know it doesn’t.
- No like that, Kieren. No physically. – the fingers stroked Kieren’s wrist one more time, thinking about his own marks covering his arms. They were not made with a blade, but with the punch of needles.
- In another situation, I would say yes. But no, awkwardly no.
- You know that you can trust me, right? – he kissed lightly the spot on the right wrist, as he was trying to confirm his words, show that Kieren could always count on him.
- Yeah, yeah, I know. – and then he bring his face against his own, kissing hard the pale lips, showing how much he loved him – And savvy that I feel in the same way.
Simon has been his light on the end of the tunnel. When he thought he couldn’t love anyone anymore, and not even been loved in return, the Irish show up in his life. So beautiful, but so tough and blue. But, in his name, Simon wanted to be sweet and smooth, and for Simon, he wanted to be whole.
There weren’t more mornings where he didn’t feel like waking up because life was so hard to face. He waked up nowadays to see the blank eyes, but so full of that devotion that Simon felt for him. Kieren could almost love himself when he saw how much love Simon dedicated for him.
It was Simon who fill him, was Simon who make him comfortable enough with himself, and all the sorrow, and all the loneliness, were erased. Kieren was cherished, and it was all that matter.
Kieren kissed him one more time, just because he could, just because they were dead and yet alive enough to do it. They were second chances and couldn’t be wasted.
But the thoughts faded away while Simon’s hands got lost in the blonde, holding him closer. That was everything Kieren needed.