constellational | nightfell inbox.

[ shiro. please. don’t tempt fate. the combing doesn’t stop; hands keep moving, keeping tugging at his floof before smoothing it back to join the rest of his slicked hair. ]

Some people were saying pocket-size. [ in his disaster of a netherwork inquiry. never let him do that again, okay shiro? though, as much grumbling and dead-eyed staring he’d done throughout the initial postings, it wasn’t an entirely lost cause. he has come out of it with a few helpful tips. the library, mostly; that’s what he’s putting most of his faith into. the other suggestion…

he still doubts it’ll work. it sure would be nice though, huh? if it was that easy.

putting a pin in that thought for now, his hands finally pause, resting lightly over shiro’s crown. and here, the smile has dimmed, replaced by a firm pinch of his lips and a determined spark in the eyes. ]

Doesn’t matter. However small you get, I’m gonna figure out how to reverse it. [ so no more of this is it possible ridiculousness. of course it’s possible that shiro is going to be back to normal. ] You’re gonna be fine, Shiro. We’re not out of options. We still have things left to try.

⟪ ayyy. he doesn’t look half-bad like this. he could even gain some respect in a film noir, probably. slick and smooth. two things he isn’t in real life.

or what if he just. shaved it. that tuft of bleached hair has seen more than it’s ever asked for. maybe it’s time to give it a well-deserved break. is it what keith’s hinting at? semi insisting on a cut. he has options—hair-wise, anyway, but keith claims he also has options size wise. his face changes when he mentions his potential pocket fate, a wary glance skyward. you’re gonna be fine shouldn’t ever follow that kind of prediction, not when he’s already picturing himself with a trail of fairy dust in his wake, a tight green skirt around his hips. but. keith rarely ever says anything if he knows he can’t deliver.

lashes momentarily flit, a little shiver down his spine as fingers hit just the right spot. ⟫ Like what? ⟪ he asks innocently enough, but then he tries to remember what he read and… ⟫ Didn’t they jump to conclusions a little too fast? Do we want to test whatever advice they gave?

[ he has to wonder if curiosity won out and if, after their pillow-bunny war and subsequent parting of ways, shiro inevitably went back to read through the netherwork. keith being the social media newbie that he is, frequently neglects to put things on private, so it wouldn’t take any digging for shiro to see. to know. so is this shiro subtly shutting down The Suggestion before keith can embarrass himself by mentioning it? keith chews at the fatty tissue of his cheek, making shiro wait an extra tick, two, as he absentmindedly scratches at his scalp. he has a bad habit of chewing at his nails, so there isn’t much to begin with, but the little bit of underneath is going to be stained black for days. ]

Probably not. [ he peeks at shiro in the mirror. ] The library is a good suggestion, but the other one… it’s… well… [ his gaze wavers, as does his confidence, and then he’s back to staring at his hands, which have, again, paused.

one beat, two beat, three, and he pulls in a deep, steadying breath, committing himself with a firm: ]

Okay. [ he lifts his hands and sidesteps, being careful not to brush against shiro as he hunches over the sink to wash his hands. the water runs dirty, filling the porcelain with black gunk that slowly tapers off with time. all the while, keith keeps his focus on his hands as his mouth runs. ] You know that kid fairy-tale with the prince who shrinks down into a frog? Obviously your curse is missing the frog part but… you shrunk and people were saying, maybe, if you got a kiss, it’d break the spell…?

[ by the end of it, nothing else is coming off his hands, black as they continue to be. still, he just keeps rubbing at them, gaze never wavering. ]

⟪ okay so. beyond the repetitive innuendos, shiro apparently missed quite a few things. he can’t shut down an alternative he’s yet to hear about, though he was definitely right to be cautious; keith says kiss and shiro sputters, inwardly, careful to keep his face as straight as possible, lest he starts blinking in disbelief. but keith isn’t looking, not at him. keith is extremely focused on washing his hands, and shiro’s gaze prudently swivels back and forth between the running water and keith’s mop of hair, which conveniently hides a bit of his face.

maybe shiro should grow out his own.

he doesn’t even say, like, one person, either. no, it’s people, which implies multiple persons suggesting the same thing and shiro’s forehead ultimately creases dumbfounded, huffing on a rush of air struggling to leave his lungs. well then.

if he got a kiss, maybe it’d break the spell… ⟫ Or turn me into a frog. ⟪ as keith said, it’s the only missing part, though shiro’s attempt at humor falls flat, the same way he forces out a little laugh, only to promptly close his mouth shut. a kiss. he could have just brushed it off as another mockery the netherwork so kindly offered, but with the taste of blood on his tongue and the bittersweet, powdery texture of a crushed petal between his teeth, his whole brain elects to grapple with the idea, refusing to let go. ⟫

Did they… suggest anyone? ⟪ it’s such a silly thing to entertain. the netherworld is no fairy tale, but then again, he is shrinking, coughing up half-formed petals, and craving blood. his hand stiffens on his thigh. ⟫ An actual princess, or… Keith. ⟪ stop. shiro cuts himself off, brows pinched. ⟫ Your hands.

[ okay. shiro is spitting out a joke and keith can’t decide whether that’s a good sign or a bad sign. on one hand, he’s good-humored enough to say something but on the other… – shiro often counters stressful situations with morbid jokes. so, uh, is the prospect of keith kissing shiro on par with shiro’s habit of courting death? because that’s implied, isn’t it? that the person would be keith?

did they… suggest anyone?

okay, guess it isn’t obvious. he bows his face further, scrubbing harder at the knuckles of his right hand. each wrinkle is filled in with black, making the whole thing ugly and dark, and it’s not like it matters, because he’ll just be pulling on his gloves soon enough and then the dye will be mostly covered and – ]

Right, yeah, okay. Sorry.

[ maybe it’s the angle of being hunched over, but his throat tickles and it’s harder to breathe through the next breath. so he turns off the water and straightens up, still meticulous in his effort to not cross gazes with shiro. ]

Me. They suggested me. [ sorry for that too? he dries his hands on his shirt because a) he’s a gremlin like that and b) the towel is on the other side of the sink and he doesn’t much want to bustle into shiro’s space at this precise moment. ] You know… because we’re soulmates. [ which he didn’t say and they wouldn’t know; jonas said something about love, actually, which isn’t at all untrue on keith’s end. still, a white lie is easier – sorry three times now. ]

⟪ no, no. it was obvious. super obvious! and that’s pretty much the reason why shiro felt the need to ask, maybe to quash his own misplaced ambitions. he can’t kiss keith. it’d be wrong on so many levels. the thorns and stems growing in his lungs are a testament to that, and allowing himself to partake in such an absurd experiment feels a little too close to manipulation. he doesn’t want to take advantage of keith, but then he says soulmate and shiro’s stomach churns uneasy, a little bit of dread, a little bit of want.

goddamn it.

keith’s nervous. that too is pretty obvious, which in turn partially wrecks shiro’s nerves. so he nods, a tad too fast honestly, a wrinkle between his brows—he looks like he’s in the middle of a complex scholarly analysis, but really he’s just trying to catch his breath. ⟫

Yeah… Yeah! That uhm… That makes sense. ⟪ welp. eloquence clearly went down the drain, and shiro coughs only for good measure, not even because of his affliction. ⟫ Did you want to give it a shot?

⟪ c̶o̸w̶a̷r̶d̵.̸ ̸j̴u̴s̴t̸ ̶k̶i̸s̶s̴ ̶h̴i̷m̸.̷ ̵h̷e̵ ̷a̷l̶r̶e̷a̵d̶y̶ ̴d̴e̷s̶p̵i̴s̸e̵s̷ ̶y̶o̸u̵.̶ ⟫

[ most social interactions leave keith feeling flat-footed and wholly unprepared. it isn’t often that he feels that way with shiro, however. it’s odd and a touch disheartening, though he tries not to let it show. easy, since he’s yet to meet shiro’s eyes, but then again, even if shiro can’t see the uncertain pinch of his mouth or the worried tension around his eyes, it probably just as apparent in the rigid set of his shoulders. ]

I…

[ he should have anticipated it being turned around. shiro always does that. but here keith is, unprepared, even though he’s had opportunity to put together some semblance of a stance on the issue. thing is, it’s a given; it’s never been about what keith wants. he dismissed it initially because it sounded ludicrous, so why bother shiro with it? but the truth of the matter is… ]

If there’s even the slightest chance that it’ll help you… [ he quits fiddling with his shirt and he quits hiding. he doesn’t actually have to lift his face to look at a recently shrunk shiro, but he does give his head a little shake, to knock the mess of hair out of his eyes as he meets shiro’s at last. ] Yeah. I wanna try.

⟪ of course he’ll turn it around! keith is kind of very involved in this particular case, so it’s not even just a matter of opinion—it’s mostly a matter of consent. as close as he’s always allowed shiro in his vicinity, this is something else entirely, a line he couldn’t cross without explicit permission. and to hell with his shadow, or whatever it wishes for.

it’s not that far from shiro’s own quiet, burgeoning fantasies. but whereas his shadow just wants to take, shiro hesitates. platonic friends might have been better suited for the task. technically, it’s what they are, and very close ones at that, but. petals don’t lie, and shiro, stupidly, rakes his hand through his hair, immediately feeling the viscid dye and irreverently letting out a curse between gritted teeth. ⟫

Well, that’s one thing you can’t kiss anymore. ⟪ he doesn’t laugh, but his mouth does widen, briefly, as he rubs his palm on his pants. ⟫ Did they mention where? ⟪ another question he knows the answer to, probably, but then he catches keith’s eyes and he swallows, chest rising full. goddamn it again. one shoulder rolls, and shiro stares back thin-lipped, almost apologetic. ⟫ You know I’d normally be willing to lean down, but uhm… ⟪ yeah. ⟫

[ shiro’s nervous. duh. it’s not as though keith didn’t realize that with the repetition, the uhms, and many clears of his throat. but even so, there’s always this sense of – composure to shiro. during the heyday of voltron, shiro was the rock. the one who kept it together despite panic, despair, or plain lunacy. he’s different here, though. every big moment they’ve spent together, from that battered ship to shiro’s shadowlands room to a shrinking situation, shiro hasn’t been together. in fact, he’s been quite the opposite, with it being keith who has been the one to step up and lead.

he doesn’t know how to feel about that. shiro’s the leader. shiro’s the one who always knows what to do. and yet, here he is willingly letting keith dictate. but maybe that isn't so odd, afterall. shiro wanted this for him, right? it’s just another contrast to the pretend shiro; that shiro didn’t like delegating to keith’s lead, despite saying, often, that black chose keith.

y̴o̵u̵ ̴d̷i̵d̷n̷'̸t̵ ̵n̶o̴t̵i̵c̸e̸
̷h̸o̴w̸ ̸d̴i̷d̸ ̶y̶o̸u̷ ̶n̴o̵t̵ ̵s̵e̶e̸ ̴t̶h̴e̷ ̷d̸i̸f̴f̸e̸r̷e̶n̵c̶e̸

the voice comes and goes, disappearing entirely as his chest expands on the next breath, air locking up on a cough that doesn’t quite come. he watches shiro ruin his pants, still a little befuddled by shiro being absentminded enough to touch his hair in the first place. he silently shaking his head. no, they didn’t say where. maybe that’s obvious, too. briefly, his eyes droop to shiro’s mouth. it’s a weighty moment, one that slams into him and blooms his cheeks pink as he hastily redirects his gaze to the side. one beat, two, and then he’s cracking a half-smile, ignoring the gallop of his heartbeat that’s pounding in his ears. ]

Don’t worry. I got it. [ cheeks, nose, lips – keith skips all of them. shiro’s floof is slicked back, leaving his forehead on full display and that strip of real-estate looks good as any to try. so biting the bullet and shoving down his awkward, flustered feeling, keith places a hand on the towel looped at shiro’s neck and leans down. his lips are a touch chapped, he doesn’t take care of himself as he should, but he hopes shiro doesn’t mind the dryness as he lingers through the pressure. a little more and he pulls away, bottom lip already caught between his teeth as he holds his breath and waits. any second now, right? ]

⟪ shiro isn’t the unshakable pillar he once was. he spent too long as an abstract form, probably, only just a memory, and the stranger he sees in lieu of a reflection he should comfortably recognize has effortlessly stifled his grip on reality. he doesn’t know himself anymore, doesn’t trust himself, not fully, and keith, unwittingly, holds the entirety of his existence in the crook of his palms. despite his own self-doubts, he’s more capable than anyone he’s ever known, and that’s what he’s been trying to show him ever since they first met.

it’s natural for shiro to pass the proverbial baton to keith. to entrust him with his life, even, but also, to ensure that he’s comfortable enough to do whatever is asked of him. apparently, he is. shiro’s blood thrums uneven in his ears, knuckles white (and black) on his stained pants. whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t this, a warm touch in the middle of his forehead, and his eyes close on their own volition. it’s so stupidly soft it flutters down to his stomach, and shiro sits there like he’s been wrapped in a snug cocoon, the angles of his face shaping his expression almost blissful.

and then nothing. keith retreats, and it takes a few seconds for shiro to blink and look, glancing down his own body through a subsiding haze. ⟫ Oh… ⟪ still the same. wrinkling his nose, he relieves his throat of encumbrances—tangible and abstract both—swallowing down a small blossom. he thinks that’s what it is, anyway. ⟫

So you’re not a princess after all. ⟪ he grins lopsided, absentmindedly scratching at the very faint stubble growing along his jawline. ⟫ Thank you, Keith. For trying.

[ it doesn’t work. figures. too much to hope for; why can’t anything ever be simple when it comes to shiro’s health and safety? he shouldn’t take it personally. he knows he shouldn’t, but it stings as any failure does and then hurts deeper still, to know that being shiro’s soulmate doesn’t actually carry a hint of magic. he looks away again, shiro’s grin too kind for what keith feels is adequately deserved. the gratitude is too much too, wholly unnecessary for such minimal results. no results, actually. he shakes his head, already dismissing it. ]

I’ll check the library.

[ he’ll read every damn book in the place if he has to; then and only then, when he has a remedy to this shrinking, will he accept a thank you. he wets his lips on the thought, and catches himself a moment later, insides fluttering when he realizes, oh, right, those were just against shiro’s skin.

huffing at his own ridiculousness is the only acceptable reaction then, as well as turning on the faucet. ]

But let’s rinse this out first.

⟪ something shifts. in a direction shiro would rather avoid, too. it’s almost as if keith has been holding his breath the entire time and then… nothing. he’s taking it personally, like he should have been the triumphant master of a fable somehow. it’s all it was, worth a shot for sure, though shiro’s gratitude isn’t aimed at the results. keith’s willingness to indulge whatever silly options they have, just for his sake, already means the world.

and that lingering sensation on his forehead, softening all his ragged edges, is a beacon of peace he hasn’t allowed himself in quite some time. ⟫

I’ll come with. ⟪ he says it tentatively, watching him like a mother hen as he approaches the sink, accepting keith’s implied invitation. and then, inevitably… ⟫ Keith. ⟪ he can’t stand the way he gets so easily defeated when anything shiro-related fizzles. ⟫ You’re not responsible for any of this. The curse, the cure. Maybe it just takes some time to take effect.

[ of course shiro wants to tag along. there’s nothing particularly wrong about it – they’re a team but currently, keith is at a constant odds of wanting to keep shiro within sight and wanting to fortify shiro in this house, where it is, presumably, safe. afterall, in a short amount of time, shiro’s been both plagued by vampirism and shrinking. what if he’s hit with a third something?

he’s been stuck on that a lot recently. worry. sometimes it feels bigger than himself, like there’s so much of it that his body can’t contain the ache and strain of him caring so much for one person. it’s here now, potent and heavy, the feeling saturating his senses and… – oh. it’s not just his. the bond bleeds the lines and he feels a hint of shiro’s emotion; sweeter than his own, and gentle in intensity, more of a passing care, rather than the bone deep fright keith has every time he thinks he may very well be losing shiro again.

no. he’s not going to lose him. he’s going to figure this out.

he’s certain of that, only because he’s entirely unwilling to exist in the reality in which that doesn’t hold true. it’s just… – he shakes his head, leaving the faucet running despite neither of them doing much of anything with it. ]

I don’t think curses operate on patience. [ they’re broken or they’re not; curses don’t just ease off. ] The kiss didn’t work, end of story. [ or it wasn’t done in the right spot. stupid; he’s not going to keep kissing his best friend all over on the off chance that it works, especially when shiro’s already dismissed the whole thing as a good try. ] So come on, lemme wash that out.

⟪ so… he would have kept kissing him, then. until it worked. shiro would like nothing more than to latch onto that feeling again, however brief it was.

s̵t̴a̵r̷v̵e̴d̶ ̶f̴o̵r̴ ̷t̶o̴u̴c̶h̷?̴
̸y̴o̴u̷'̴r̷e̵ ̸a̸ ̴g̵r̷o̶w̵n̵-̸a̴s̶s̴ ̵m̴a̵n̵.̴
y̵o̵u̴ ̸g̵o̵n̷n̸a̷ ̸c̴r̸y̴ ̵f̷o̸r̸ ̵a̶ ̶h̵u̷g̸?̴
̴g̵r̸o̸w̶ ̴a̴ ̶p̵a̴i̸r̵,̸ ̴y̶o̶u̸ ̷p̴a̶t̸h̶e̵t̵i̶c̶ ̵w̴e̷a̵k̴l̷i̴n̸g̵.̵

and that’s pretty much how it goes, every time he thinks to address his shortcomings. his shadow won’t even let him ponder in peace… and keith is running out of patience. shiro scowls at that, though it lacks in severity; he’s pouting, more or less, agreeing with a semi-reluctant nod as he bends over and lets the running water splash over his head.

what’s wrong with a little patience!! ⟫ You know… ⟪ one second. two seconds. ⟫ …and I’m not saying it will work, but it did take a few days for me to reach this size. ⟪ which means it’s entirely plausible for the cure to take its sweet time too. yeah?? ⟫ We’ve got options left, as you said. We’ll probably have to try a number of them before we see any result. Don’t let it get to you just yet, alright? ⟪ and he cranes his neck a little, turning his head just enough to show an encouraging smile, despite all that water forcing him to close his eyes.

he looks ridiculous. ⟫

[ most people wouldn’t think giant dork and shiro within the same sentence. but keith does. the situation is still as stressful as it’s ever been, but there’s a reprieve in shiro maneuvering his head underneath the faucet, turning this way and that, all the while keeping up conversation like there isn’t water pouring off of him. keith can’t fight off the impulse: he smiles, genuine and fond this time. it’s partly why he’s slow on taking his cue. he remembers a beat later, though, and steps close to help direct the water with his hands, keeping the blackened water from running down shiro’s face. ]

Are you seriously giving me a pep talk while taking a shower in the sink? Focus.

[ his chiding is gentle, even shallow with the way there is clearly a laugh underlying his voice. if shiro feels something akin to a playful flick of one of his dumbo ears? purely an accident; keith is merely directing water and washing out dye. ]

But yeah. [ a pause, his voice sobering. ] Alright. [ another pause, this time punctuated with a long inhale that still doesn’t seem to fill his lungs to capacity. the exhale carries its own strain but he’s getting used to that; he wonders how long sicknesses last in the netherworld. ] I’m sorry. [ is he supposed to apologize for being high-strung on worry? probably. ] I just…

[ he trails off, dallying on his words as he ruffles the hair at the back of shiro’s head, getting the last of the dye. he turns off the water and grabs at the towel around shiro’s neck, pressing it to his hair. a sigh and a resumed: ] I wish the universe would give you a break. You deserve a break.

⟪ listen. there’s no good or wrong place to give a pep talk. no good or wrong time, for that matter! the words just naturally spill from his mouth like it’s his one true purpose in life, and water isn’t likely to stop him. but keith might. the things he says, sometimes, have a way to catch him off-guard, and when he feels his eyes starting to itch a little, he reaches up, gently taking over and roughly drying his hair with the towel, taking advantage of the partial distraction to blink a little faster than he normally would. ⟫

That’s the one foe neither of us can beat. ⟪ keith’s apology still rings in his ears, stings where his throat’s tighter. he smiles rueful, arm dropping limp at his side as he stares down and sighs, long and deep. ⟫

Keith. ⟪ he peers up, only when he’s sure he won’t break. ⟫ I know you care. You’ve gone through hell and back for me, because of me, and I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you, to wait for the next curveball to hit. ⟪ ever since they’ve known each other, it’s been tragedy after tragedy. it’s got to be exhausting. ⟫ But all we can do is take it one day at a time. I’m still here, aren’t I? Almost in one piece, and now with extra appendages. ⟪ nails. teeth. lips part on a tentative smirk, showing them off as he shrugs half-playful. ⟫ Besides… I’ve got bunnies now. My luck’s bound to change.

[ there’s a touch of melancholy here and again, keith is at a loss of where to draw lines between them. some of it’s his, some of it’s shiro’s, and keith is likely only making it worse by taking that personally, too. the comment had been heartfelt, but perhaps unhelpful; what good is there in saying shiro deserves a break if it only upheavals pain-laced memories? shiro’s got them, though. he spots the good in a hopelessly sour situation, making jokes at his own expense to draw them out of this funk.

truthfully, keith wishes he wouldn’t prod at his own traumas, but even then, even when tactics are, frankly, in poor taste, they’re effective. keith smiles back, faint at first and then growing stronger at bunnies and luck. again, he’s using his own shirt as a towel, though this time, his gaze never strays from shiro. ]

I dunno about that. [ and now it’s less of a smile, closer to a smirk. ] You named one of them Lance. [ he reaches down to take that towel dangling from shiro’s fingers and moves one step closer to give shiro’s hair one last, thorough rub. ] That’s just asking for trouble. [ towel away now and… he snorts on a laugh he doesn’t quite muffle. he got shiro’s floof real good; it stands upright for a grand total of 1.43 seconds, before the dampness of it weighs it down, the whole thing flopping down the center line of his forehead. ]

⟪ it comes unbridled. shiro laughs, head thrown backwards and palm pressed to his chest like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. and seen. it’s so silly. the implication of lance’s antics paired with whatever keith was trying to do with his hair is a winning combination, and he doesn’t laugh long but he laughs genuine, which inevitably ends in a short series of coughs.

when he refocuses on keith, his eyes shine a little. ⟫ I should count my blessings then. I could’ve named one of them “Keith”. ⟪ it’s a fond, playful tease, and the light mirth in his gaze shows as much. keith’s no stranger to trouble making—just in a different way—and oh man. how he misses the team. at the same time, he’d rather they be safe somewhere else, but having them all here again, privy to their collective quirks and camaraderie, would be… well. very nice.

nicer than the pressure in his lungs and the constant itch in his throat that forces him to clear it yet again, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his head. ⟫ And speaking of… ⟪ it’s not even really related, but there he goes blinking at his reflection, seemingly appreciative of the way his hair looks. ⟫ How much of me can you… feel? ⟪ since they’re on the subject of luck and weird occurrences. the question is casual enough, contrasting a bit with the mild apprehension deepening the lines of his forehead, vaguely bashful. ⟫

[ oh, don’t even, shiro. keith knows he wanted to name all his bunnies after him. the only reason he didn’t? because it would get pretty confusing with six keiths living in one, tiny treehouse. there’s a quip for that, one to go nicely with the exaggerated roll of his eyes, but the accelerated beat of his heart is distracting in the best way. he made shiro laugh. shiro, who has been sucker punched by the netherworld a few times now, so carefree in the moment that it has keith’s chest swelling with pride. it feels like a bigger accomplishment than it is.

he’s hit with that joy in just about every way; sees it, hears it, feels it. it fills his insides with warm, sugary-feeling, so sweet that his fingers curl and dig into the towel, held there close to his own diaphragm. his cheeks twitch from the stretch of his smile. the biggest lie of keith’s life is that people say he’s got an impenetrable wall around himself. untrue; he’s, unfortunately, not all that skilled at maintaining any sort of poker face. so he’s on full display here: soft, incriminatingly besotted eyes, tracking shiro’s every movement as his best friend looks himself over in the mirror.

his only saving grace is that shiro is distracted. though, they are soulmates, perhaps shiro doesn’t have to look at him to know. the fact that shiro brings it up only lends to that idea and as if caught, keith abruptly looks down. they’ve talked about it a few times, but accidental soulmates quickly became the lesser issue with vampirism and shrinking curses occurring in tandem. keith isn't anxious having to discuss it; it’s shiro, who is always a soothing presence at the other end of the bond. but it’s not easy to parse through this, either. ]

I can feel your emotions. [ a beat. ] Sometimes. [ another beat and now he’s got his eyebrows pulled together and high, knitted on a wrinkle that can only be described as befuddlement. ] Sometimes it’s hard to know where… you end and I begin? Like… sometimes what you’re feeling is what I think I’m feeling. [ he wrings the towel, diverting some of that agitated uncertainty. ] It’s confusing.

[ wait. he stops playing with the towel and lifts his gaze, looking to shiro. ]

But not in a bad way.

⟪ …nah. the only reason he didn’t name all of them “keith” is because the universe can hardly contain one of them, so. imagine six. that’d be signing shiro’s—or his heart’s, rather—death warrant and been there done that. plus, he doesn’t want to jinx him. what if he ends up growing white fur and starts hopping around. you never know in this place, and keith’s answer is a testament to that.

it’s vaguely alarming. he knew, obviously. there’s a ton of things he isn’t sure are entirely his own—feelings, that is—though there are a few he knows fully belong to him, and he’d rather keep those under the radar. it is confusing, and the worst that could happen would be leading keith to believe that he feels something he actually doesn’t. so he nods, almost cautious as he slowly takes it all in, mouth slightly pursed. ⟫

Not in a bad way. ⟪ he concedes, both pensive and still vaguely sheepish, which he immediately notices as his eyes sharpen on his reflection. his nose wriggles in an effort to reshape his expression, leaving a hint of fondness across his lips as everything else is packed and locked away. ⟫ If it does get overwhelming—which I assume it might—never hesitate to tell me, alright? ⟪ one brow rises a little higher, mouth pinched at one corner. ⟫ Don’t agree too fast. I’ll know if you lie. ⟪ and he winks. ⟫

[ … but why? two words sound off in his head and keith’s suddenly stuck, entirely blind to the point that shiro is trying to make. overwhelming, right, keith anticipates that, too, but his solution has always been a simple deal with it. telling shiro would lead to… what? what would shiro do to remedy it? it’s not as though shiro can stop feeling. so putting that on shiro, like shiro simply existing and feeling any number of things is a burden on keith…

fuck no.

keith has no intention of making shiro feel guilty over living, breathing, being. but shiro knows him enough to call him out. he clamps his lips together, promptly sputtering at the cheeky, little wink. dammit shiro. he looks to the side, mouth pulling hard to one side as well, caught in the way that he has no means to actually deny considering a little, white lie. good-humored stays his mood though and he’s not actually upset for being pushed into a corner… because he has an easy way out. ]

I’ll tell you. [ he puts the towel down on the sink’s counter. ] But my threshold for overwhelming is pretty high.

[ meaning? yeah, no, he’s never going to bring it up to shiro. ]

⟪ even with a warning, keith is somehow able to cheat his way out of lying. well played, you lil shit. once a gremlin always a gremlin, and shiro rolls his eyes on a snorted laugh, momentarily forgetting about the potential gravity of… whatever being connected on such a deep level could lead to. ⟫

So you won’t. ⟪ look. he knows just how resilient keith has always been. despite the many struggles that painted his youth, he stands stronger than ever; he overcame them all. he continues to do so, with added strain on his back because of shiro’s own pains. it’s pointless to tell him to let them go, which is, ironically, one of said pains—he’s never wanted keith to suffer on his behalf. the thought sobers him up a little, the laugh subsides, and he sighs somewhat resigned, a flat, lopsided smile. ⟫

Just so you know… I’ll never pry. ⟪ so that thing about lying earlier was nothing more than a tease, though he needs to amend: ⟫ Never willingly. It’s too early to tell whether I’ve got the hang of it, but I promise never to— ⟪ cough. ⟫ —never to tress… tress— ⟪ and he wheezes. chokes on a lack of sudden air, lungs clogged up as he coughs and knocks his knuckles against his chest. he tastes bitter sugar. pollen. it’s there on his tongue, coating the back of his mouth. quickly he grabs the towel on the counter and spits into it, cheeks pink, and there it is: a petal. almost intact, too, bright red, and he clears his throat a few times more and he sweats, inhaling and exhaling as deeply as he can. ⟫ Sorry. ⟪ he wipes his lips uselessly, hoping to distract from his growing agitation. ⟫ Whew. I uh… should probably go get some air.

Edited 2022-11-18 02:38 (UTC)

[ keith’s lucky to have shiro as his soulmate. kind, supportive, and entirely understanding of not only boundaries, but keith’s particularly rigid boundaries. he won’t go so far as to say shiro never pushes or tries to peer past keith’s guard, but he cares enough to be patient and look for the signs of being too-much. just-enough is what works between them and as always, keith is extremely grateful that shiro took a shining to him all those years ago. keith only hopes that he can be a worthy soulmate in return.

so far? he appears to be failing on that front.

oh. he’s sick, too. but rather than a tickle in the throat and a cough that comes and goes, shiro’s illness is – violent. keith freezes up as it all unfolds, staring wide-eyed and useless. shiro coughs and keith knows he should be helping. somehow, some way. rub his back through the worst of it? get him some water? he can’t think of what to do in the moment, however, and so, his hands remain at his sides as shiro does all the work himself of grabbing the towel and knocking hard at his own chest. the wheezing hurts his ears, as does the sputter for breath as lungs lock up. keith feels his own labor through his next shallow inhale, pinpricks of pain catching inside his chest and climbing up his throat, some imagined lump seemingly working its way up. he swallows it back, however, expression drawn with anxiety and fright, only to collapse entirely when shiro’s breath settles enough for him to say an apology.

what? ]

That’s it? You just –

[ forgot how to breathe in front of him and now he’s saying sorry? keith doesn’t handle it well. exasperation is easier to navigate than the helplessness of his uncertainty. shiro doesn’t deserve this: the vampirism, the shrinking, the sickness. he definitely doesn’t deserve keith not-quite-yelling, but huffy, anxiety-ridden commentary. nonetheless, he can’t silence himself. ]

And you want air? Of course you do, you were just… [ he makes vague gestures with his hands, only to give up to cross his arms. ] You have it too, don’t you? Whatever’s going around.

⟪ …there’s no way he could possibly pass it off as, like. the common cold or something. is there. the petal is probably a little too incriminating as is, though with some luck, maybe keith has yet to notice its crimson evidence in the crook of shiro’s palm, shawled in a piece of cloth. he’s making a point not to uncurl his fingers, too, keeping the cursed treasure secured between his thighs. but keith knows. even without fully knowing.

and he’s mad.

fear is often like that, when you care for someone. the lines between dread and anger blur, one bleeding into the other. emotions are hard. they’re hard for him and he knows they’re a challenge for keith, who was barely allowed a chance to really… wade through them. tame them. survival prevailed, and honestly, shiro could learn a trick or two from him because clearly it’s not the kind of instinct he possesses.

he winces, caught. grimaces his way through a poor attempt at humor. ⟫ Hard to say whether I’ve got it if we don’t know what it is. ⟪ there’s a decent amount of cheekiness on his face, for someone who doesn’t feel cheeky at all. before he can figure out whether keith’s amused—he probably isn’t—he sobers up, sighing defeated as he looks upward, an eyeful of starless wood with no answers. ⟫ Alright. I’ve been coughing. Could be a cold, could be a side effect of this— ⟪ he scowls, gesturing at the size of his body. ⟫ —whatever this is. Could be… ⟪ hanahaki. he doesn’t say it. he pinches his mouth shut and stares back at keith, ultimately shaking his head as if to shake off the mantra hindering his thought process: nope, nope, nope, nope… ⟫ Eh, I don’t know. By the time we figure this one out, there’ll be something else. ⟪ one day at a time, he said, but he feels so tired all of a sudden. he groans, pinches the bridge of his nose, the petal flitting mockingly to the ground. ⟫ I thought we’d be granted eternal sleep.

[ imagine that. shiro trying to weasel out of an explanation on a technicality. keith is, in a word, unamused. the cheeky quip doesn’t land anywhere near keith’s good graces and so, those seemingly ever present shiro privileges don’t kick into action: in this one instance, shiro won’t be receiving any slack. keith merely stares him down. arms crossed tight, gaze steady and unblinking, keith waits out the ticks, not letting up even as shiro looks toward the ceiling.

it’s hypocritical on his part. keith is aware that he isn’t being fair. he’s caught something, too. it’s a slight tightness to his chest and an inability to fill his lungs to capacity. the tickle in his throat that forces him into a cough is an occasional burden, but one that is entirely manageable. keith is sick, but it’s more akin to an annoyance than an actual problem. so in his opinion? not worth any level of concern. shiro’s however…

so it’s fair to be unfair. shiro should’ve told him, especially with all these other things going on with his body. if keith had known, he could’ve been looking for a solution to that, too, while he scrounges up information on vampirism and shrinking. he’s running away with his thoughts, getting caught up in anger that is born purely from unbridled concern, but then shiro saying there’ll just be something else to get him and…

oh.

it catches him off guard. shiro is far from an optimist. the morbid jokes and the ease in which he passes off voltron to him are all indicators that shiro gives all his hope away to other people. even so, keith doesn’t know how to handle this defeatist attitude; keith isn’t the one to give motivational speeches, afterall. so it happens again: the concern twists and curdles, uncertainty bleeding into accusation. because there on the floor, something’s fluttered, and keith tracks it with his eyes. a petal? the coughing, the towel, the slight of hand – ]

Is that… [ he bends down and picks it up. crouched there, keith turns it over between his fingers and then shoots a look upward, expression undeniably confused. ] Did this come out of you?

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let's pretend that netherworld hair dye only has to stay in for, like, 5 minutes LOL

nether magic is the best magic

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