I'm dead (serious)

They hadn’t exactly meant to end up making out on the couch like teenagers, but somehow it had happened anyway. Kieren’s parents were over at the Lancaster’s and Jem was out, somewhere. The important part was that she wasn’t home and wasn’t likely to be back soon yet, which gave him and Simon all the time and privacy they could wish for. It wasn’t like they didn’t have that at the bungalow whenever they wanted, but there was something wonderful about not having to hide in safe, PDS-only spaces all the time. Hanging out in his own living room with his boyfriend felt daring and so amazingly normal all at once. The feeling was as addictive as Simon’s kisses - they would have made his heartbeat speed up if he still had one.
      “Jesus!”
      Simon dropped his hands from Kieren’s face simultaneously with Kieren scooting a little way away from him. Kieren had to fight the urge to try to smooth down his hair or pull at his clothes. It would only make him look fidgety.
      “Don’t mind me,” Jem went on. “Pretend I’m not here. Pretend I’m dead to you for a moment. Not PDS dead, but dead dead, if you know what I mean.” She waved a hand through the air and sent an empty plastic bottle flying. It ended up on the floor and she looked at it and laughed a little, but made no move to pick it up. “Oops.”
      Kieren frowned at her, awkwardness mostly forgotten. “Are you drunk?”
      “Nooo. I don’t know where you’d get that idea.”
      “She’s definitely drunk,” Simon confirmed.
      “Oh, shut up, old fusspots.” Jem folded her arms in front of her chest and frowned. She would have looked intimidating if she hadn’t swayed so far to the right she ended up leaning against the doorframe to stay upright, suddenly giggling again for some unknown reason. “Zombie fusspots. Can I ask you guys a question that’s been on my mind for a while now?”
      Kieren exchanged a wary look with Simon. “Sure.”
      “Can PDS sufferers get boners?” Jem asked without further preamble. She gestured elaborately with her hands in a way Kieren couldn’t make sense of and wasn’t sure he wanted to. “I mean, your heart doesn’t beat and you need blood rushing south to-”
      “Okay!” he interjected a bit too loudly. “I think that’s enough talking for today. Time for bed.”
      “Ugh, no. I’m still far too awake.” As if trying to prove herself wrong, she yawned at precisely that moment.
      Simon huffed. “Your sister is interesting when she’s drunk.”
      “Yes, that’s very helpful, thank you.” Kieren got up and approached Jem. She willingly let him pry her hands away from the doorframe. He looked at Simon. “I’ll be back in a sec, just- just wait here.”
      “I’m not going anywhere,” Simon promised, which made Kieren smile a little.
      He guided Jem towards and up the stairs, walking behind her to make sure she didn’t topple over backwards. Once inside her room she kicked off her shoes and shimmied out of her trousers herself, to Kieren’s relief. He picked up the discarded items in case she’d have to make a run for the bathroom during the night, to minimise her chances of tripping and landing on her face.
      She sighed and collapsed on her bed. “You know, Kier, sometimes I feel so sorry for you for not being able to get drunk. There must’ve been a lot of moments where you wished you could.” Kieren was glad she had closed her eyes and probably hadn’t seen him flinch. “I know there’ve been a lot of moments in your second life where I would have wished I could if I were you, anyway.”
      “I don’t know,” he said quietly. The only reason he’d ever drunk was because Rick had and he hadn’t wanted to be left behind. He wasn’t about to admit that though, especially not with Jem in this weird, talkative and painfully honest state. “I never drank much before. I don’t really miss it.” He put her folded trousers down on top of her shoes in the corner of the room.
      She nodded a little, eyes still closed. “But hey, at least you don’t have to worry about shaving anymore, right? What with your hair not growing and such. I’d like that. Shaving is such a bother, and it’s not like it’s ever warm enough in Roarton to wear tank tops for more than three days a year anyway. It’s stupid.” He bent down to pull the covers up over her and tuck her in. She opened her eyes, grinned and petted his cheek. “Thanks. You should be glad for your nice hairless face, Kier.”
      “Jesus Christ,” he said, because he simply wasn’t sure how else to respond. “You’ve really thought about all this stuff, haven’t you?”
      “Well of course. You’re my little brother now, remember? I’m s’pposed to worry about you too much. It’s in my job description as living big sis.”
      He was surprised at how casually she kept bringing up his condition. “I thought you didn’t like to be reminded I’m ‘partially deceased’.” As soon as the words were out he wished he could take them back. That desire only grew when she was silent just a little too long, only staring at him with something that came dangerously close to guilt.
      “No, that’s not it,” she whispered. “I don’t like to be reminded that there was a moment when I wanted to shoot you. When I probably should have shot you, even. It was horrible and I’m not sure how I’d deal with that ever happening again. That’s why I freaked when you came back, and later when you stopped wearing cover-up and lenses. You didn’t look like the you I knew. It was never your fault. I’m so sorry, Kieren.”
      He sat down heavily on the edge of her bed. “No, don’t say that. You should never have had to deal with me in my rabid state in the first place. I’d have nightmares about it too, if our situations were reversed.”
      She yawned and closed her eyes again. “I’m still sorry. Hey, you remember when mum and dad said Simon was a bad influence on you?”
      “Yes.” He didn’t think he’d ever forget that, though the part where they’d locked him in his room had certainly been even more memorable.
      “He’s not. He’s weird, but he’s good for you. They know it too.”
      He breathed in and out deeply. “Thank you.”
      “I just want you to be happy,” she mumbled. Her face was relaxed and her words were coming slower and slower. “Happy, and here, and not in the ground. Please.”
      “I’m getting there,” he assured her, but she had fallen asleep, breathing deep and even. He gently brushed a few strands of hair out of her face and kissed her forehead, before making his way back downstairs, back to Simon.