Iggy leads us into his house, which is the epitome of normal.

It's so normal that my skin begins to itch and I'm pretty sure that I begin to break out in hives.

The first room that we walk into is the living room, decorated neatly with a large TV, and a coffee table. Someone with a green thumb had even set up a shelf full of house plants by the window, but they were all tame compared to my carnivorous plants back at home.

"Suck my dick, newbs!" Iggy's brother, the corn chip boy from earlier, screams at the TV where he's playing some kind of war game. Apparently, he's a pink dragon shooting fire out of its mouth.

"Hey, shithead," Iggy tells the kid. "Can you at least try keeping it down until mom and dad come home?"

The kid shoots Iggy The Bird and then proceeds to scream a battle cry akin to an Aztec death whistle being blown. Bone-chilling.

"Oh man," Eugene closes the door behind him as he steps inside. "The last time I was in here, we were just kids. Remember?" He asks Iggy. "We blew up the microwave trying to make macaroni and cheese."

"Actually, you blew up the microwave, and then you used it as a football. I just watched." Iggy scoffs a little. "Come on. My room's down this way." He says and then leads us down a hallway, towards the back of the house.

I'm fascinated by the idea of seeing Iggy's room, but I contain myself just this once. There was no need to call attention to the fact that I wanted to know more about him. Especially now that he seemed to be the source of Eugene's life.

Unfortunately, there was nothing elegant about his bedroom.

I mean, sure, there was an unholy amount of empty Mountain Dew bottles on his dresser. And the assorted anime posters on his walls of a weird butler and a dark-haired boy were strange. But the clothes, shoes, and homework that he had yet to turn in were all normal.

It was a teenager's room, but there were also traces of his childhood left behind.

"I guess you guys can sleep on the bed," Iggy tells us and he opens up his closet to pull out a couple of pillows and sheets. "Oh, and sorry about the mess. Mom's been begging me to clean it for a month now. But, I..." He trails off, glances at Eugene, and then away again. "I just haven't felt like doing anything lately."

I go to sit on the edge of Iggy's bed and I bounce around a little before I lay back. The sheets are soft and smell like laundry detergent.

"This is so weird," Eugene complains. "I'm not sleeping next to a bunch of guys." He tells Iggy. "I'd rather gouge out my own eyes."

"Go ahead," Iggy tells him in the most deadpan voice. "It's either this or sleep in the living room with Ethan. He likes to put corn chips up people's noses when they're sleeping."

"Whatever." Eugene sighs, and then he reluctantly comes over to the bed and gets in beside me, the weight of him sinking the mattress on one side and causing me to roll over a little. 

"Get comfortable. I'm going to go change." Iggy tells us, throws us some pillows and blankets, and then he leaves the room, leaving me alone with Eugene.

"Eugene?" I ask him after a moment, my back turned to him. "Do you really hate me that much?"

I hear Eugene sigh and then roll over. "No, Brown. I don't hate you that much." He mumbles. "I'm just angry about being dead. It's like, high school doesn't teach you about this shit. About dying."

"Of course they don't," I reply, my hands tucked under my head. "They're too busy cramming trivial equations down our throats instead of preparing us for real-world situations that will assault us as soon as we graduate."

Eugene goes quiet, and just in time because Iggy shows up again in a T-shirt and a pair of sleep pants with little hearts on them. I scoot over a little to let him in beside me, and he crawls in and gets under the sheets, his back to me. 

It's oddly satisfying being sandwiched between two large men. To say that I didn't enjoy it would have been a complete lie on my part. I feel like the heart-broken duchess in a romance novel, with two strapping suitors begging for her attention. 

"It's not me," Iggy says quietly, and for a moment I wonder if he's dreaming.

I look up at him and he turns to face me. "Darcy, it can't be me who's bringing him back to life."

"Why?" I ask him, and we're inches from one another, the moonlight shining down on us. Is this a dream? Igor was beautifully simple, with long blonde hair, and an oval-shaped face with a stubborn chin. Could I see myself kissing him? He claimed to be as straight as a board, but I wasn't so sure. All the educational videos that I had watched had usually involved mundane individuals (like Igor) bedding strikingly hot librarians or pizza delivery drivers. 

Iggy shrugs a little, studying my face. "I mean, the distance, for one thing. I've been way further from him than I was tonight." He explains. "But you? You've been practically attached to his hip since you pulled him out of his coffin."

I realize that he's right. 

I open my mouth to reply, but then Eugene rolls over, and suddenly his undead arm wraps around my waist and he lets loose a snore that can awaken the dead. Iggy and I stare down at the limb locked around me, and then glance up at one another again.

Could it be me who was bringing Eugene back to life?