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nightfell inbox

nightfell inbox.

𝚅𝙾𝙸𝙲𝙴 | 𝚃𝙴𝚇𝚃 | 𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽

[ 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?

⟪ pessimism always did simmer beneath his skin. it’s nothing he could afford then — it might have killed him otherwise, much earlier than his affliction — but now, twice dead and stuck with a sentient darker side in his head, it’s easier to give in. yeah, he’s always kept his chin up. for his own sanity, he didn’t have a choice, and he wound up beating so many odds. so this, maybe, is just belated fate. everything he managed to delay is now catching up to him, increased tenfold; sometimes, he wonders if it’s even worth trying.

it’s laughable, in a bleak, sinister way. oddly enough, keith’s the one that regularly pushes him to keep going. it’s a bit ironic, honestly, but the guy’s come such a long way, it’d be an insult to his efforts, to his tenacity, to just… give up. shiro can be a hypocrite, yeah. but not that much of a hypocrite. he can lie, too, and when keith plucks the petal from the ground, shiro’s tempted to do just that.

his gaze softens and shoots down, barely resisting the urge to pull his freshly-dyed hair out. ⟫ Y……..es? ⟪ don’t panic. don’t. panic. do not. fucking panic. ⟫ I keep telling myself I should stop munching on the buns’ rations. ⟪ you know. because they eat grass and stuff. he’s joking. it’s obvious in the tentative quirk of his mouth, the palm of his hand uneasily rubbing at the back of his neck.

yeah. he panicked. ⟫

[ it’s a good joke. it’s patented shiro. self-chastising and clever, albeit a little too on the nose. but keith doesn’t laugh, nor does he crack a smile. he doesn’t frown either. he’s stuck in between expressions, which inevitably leaves him with no discernable expression at all. he’s blank. for three solid beats, he stares up at shiro, feeling strangely small despite the fact that he’s, technically, the larger one here. it’s just – he doesn’t know what to do.

anger hasn’t garnered him anything of value. determination hasn’t either, strangely enough. see, this is his cue. he’s met this cue every time before: post shipwreck, post vampirism, post first shrinking… keith’s always been right there, ready to assure that they’re a team and that they’re going to figure this out.

but maybe shiro’s right. maybe there is no end to this. maybe keith is useless in stopping it.

q̴u̸i̵t̸t̷e̷r̸.̷
w̵h̴a̶t̶ ̵h̵a̶p̶p̸e̸n̶e̸d̵ ̸t̴o̸ ̵a̴s̶ ̸m̸a̷n̶y̴ ̸t̷i̸m̶e̷s̸ ̶a̷s̴ ̵i̸t̴ ̷t̶a̴k̵e̷s̴?̸
̵o̸h̴.̴ ̷r̸i̶g̷h̷t̷.̷ ̶y̸o̸u̶ ̷d̴i̸d̴n̴'̴t̶ ̵m̸a̴k̷e̴ ̶t̸h̸a̵t̵ ̴v̴o̵w̵ ̸t̷o̵ ̶s̴h̴i̴r̵o̴.̶

the fight is snuffed out. briefly, keith lets all those carefully corralled feelings of worry, despair, fear overtake him, and from one breath to the next, a sad, broken quality pinches the skin around his eyes. but then he jerks his chin down and hides behind his hair, hand crushing the petal. ]

Be serious. [ sharp on his tongue, but heavy with emotion, he sounds angrier than he has the capacity to be right now. he takes a breath, trying to calm, but the pause swings him too far in the other direction, his voice coming out meek. small. ] I don’t understand and I – … I need to understand in order to help.

⟪ even jokes can’t save him. his weapon of choice has failed, hitting the wrong target instead; keith withdraws, and shiro quickly deflates. well, shit. for a number of things. keith’s adamancy is almost frustrating. don’t get him wrong—shiro’s in full admiration when it comes to keith’s determination, but they’ve reached a cul-de-sac here, and shiro has no idea how to hit the brakes and backpedal. how do you tell someone they’re the cause of something terrible without blaming them? because it’s not keith’s fault, though even if there was a way, it’s not something shiro can willingly bring himself to confess.

his chest hurts, for different reasons. there’s barely any hesitation before he drops to a crouch next to him and sits on the floor, refusing to stand taller when keith looks so crestfallen. ⟫ Keith… ⟪ shaped like a plea, his name escapes through a sigh, shiro’s shoulders sagging a little, even as he rolls them. ⟫ I’m not sure you can. ⟪ it’s honest, if nothing else. there is a way, if whatever this is matches what he thinks it is, but he won’t ask, and he won’t beg, and he won’t hope, for the simple reason that it shouldn’t be happening at all. ⟫

I don’t know if anyone can, honestly. ⟪ his forehead creases doleful, and his lashes flutter over his eyes, crinkled slits. ⟫ I’m not trying to be cynical, I promise. I just uhm… ⟪ and here goes nothing, a soundless and deep inhale as he shakes his head, distantly pondering what the fuck he’s doing. ⟫ Have you ever heard of hanahaki? ⟪ a beat. ⟫ I can’t remember if I’ve ever mentioned it before. ⟪ in passing, maybe, or as he recollected old memories. ⟫

[ what’s that saying? you don’t know what you have until it’s gone? keith has never taken shiro for granted, not after truly seeing him for the first time outside the galaxy garrison disciplinary office. but over time, he’s gotten comfortable with certain aspects of their friendship. namely? shiro’s faith in him. it’s a stable of their relationship, the backbone even; shiro’s always pushing and encouraging, so sure in keith’s ability to be great. so this feels like a colossal failure.

i’m not sure you can.

it’s akin to being slapped. keith winces, bracing with a tensing of his shoulders, once again lost, small, uncertain. pathetic. he presses his lips tight together, scrounging up the fight that’s supposed to burn red hot inside him. so what if shiro doubts? keith can make up the difference. he’ll believe enough for the both of them. he can do this. he can do this. but he doesn’t make much ground with that temporary rush of stubbornness. it putters out and he slumps anew, a little too sapped to argue.

just as well, because shiro’s still trying to push through himself and what he ends with is a question that, finally, coaxes keith into lifting his face from its downward hang. hanahaki? the name doesn’t jar any memory but it still means everything in the moment, because it’s a name. shiro has a name. that’s a starting point. they can build off of that. ]

No. What’s that?

[ curiosity clears the dismalness of his expression. hope does, too. it’s slight at first, but growing. ]

⟪ it’s nothing personal. it’s nothing against keith, either — or his aptitudes for that matter, far from lacking — and it doesn’t have anything to do with shiro’s faith in him. to this day, it remains immutable. the problem is… love. it’s not a skill you can practice, an enemy you can defeat, or an obstacle you can conquer. it just is, and while shiro doesn’t doubt keith’s selfless intentions, his granite-like resolve, for the first time in a series of stubborn attempts, keith is utterly powerless. it’s not for lack of wanting. it’s not even for lack of loving. shiro is persuaded of keith’s affection, and that is enough. enough to sustain him, at least for a while as the disease ravages his lungs—which is entirely unfair, as if keith’s devotion doesn’t mean the world to him.

flowers don’t care, apparently, and that glimmer of hope in keith’s gaze is a new lump in shiro’s throat. fuck. he’s barefoot on eggshells, trying really hard not to squirm uneasy as he lets out a slow breath, cheeks puffed out and brows raised high. okay. so when a man really loves another man… ⟫

It means throwing up flowers. It’s not exactly accurate... but you get the gist. ⟪ if he did throw up anything, it’d probably be butterflies…

…please don’t throw up butterflies. ⟫ It was a popular trope back in the day. I know my grandma was a fan. ⟪ he snorts quietly, swallowing the sound with a barely-there wince. ⟫ Legend has it that if you love someone and it’s one-sided, you’ll start coughing up petals. ⟪ imagine that. he’s doing his very best to keep a straight face, unsure whether he’s succeeding at all. ⟫ It was never supposed to be real… but then again, I was never supposed to like drinking blood.

[ at some point, he’ll stop being shocked, won’t he? at some point, the barrage of unbelievable, yet seemingly possible events will become the new norm and keith will be able to hear any far-fetched story without gaping, right? he knows the netherworld plays by its own rules, providing magic, curses, transformations, life when there should be death, and yet, he still finds himself trying to apply the restrictions of his reality. if anything, he should be more accustomed to taking the oddities of this place in stride; he’s been all over the universe, living through alien sicknesses, alternate realities, time space continuums, sentient beings, space magic bullshit. he’s the accumulation of every bad sci-fi movie trope, so what are a few netherworld curses in comparison to that?

throwing up flowers sounds particularly stupid, however.

seriously? incredulous is, at least, a marginal step up from the broken expression of before. keith sits it out and listens, eyes once again set on shiro to watch every barely there wince and uneasy squirm. inevitably, the cause comes to light and to say keith is doubtful is an understatement. he barely digests the information, which is why he fails to conclude the obvious. instead, there’s a kneejerk reaction of denial, the thought of shiro being in love with someone preposterous to begin with – who could he have met and adored within the short time they’ve been here – but more so – ]

It can’t be that. [ nose wrinkles, upper lip pulled back, as though the very suggestion is distasteful to him. ] What idiot wouldn’t love you back?

⟪ and shiro basically chokes. it’s not even curse-related this time—he just swallows and bam, it all goes down the wrong pipe. maybe it’s the dryness in his throat, punctuated by the shock of keith looking positively offended. it’s almost comical in its irony, and shiro raises one hand as he catches his breath, trying to indicate that he’s okay. ⟫ I’m good! I’m good. ⟪ no petals, no need to worry. he’s just. startled. amused in spite of himself. and drowning in despair.

fuck you, universe.

it does sound particularly stupid. and yet. it can’t be that, keith says, and shiro is adamant on keeping the reason why it makes sense to himself. it’s you, keith. you’re the idiot, and the stretch of shiro’s lips would make laughter a little too sinister if he gave in. he manipulates it at the last moment into a low sigh, still a little hoarse from his latest coughing fit. ⟫

Well… ⟪ excellent start. he clears his throat for good measure, exhaling through his nose for the hundredth time; there’s something seemingly apologetic in his eyes, in the overall softness of his expression. ⟫ Love isn’t a choice. I’ve had to turn people down before… great people too. ⟪ women, mostly. a few men, too. he did care for them. love has many facets, and he just didn’t feel the connection they were hoping for. ⟫ It just… didn’t click that way. It’s alright. It happens.

[ oh. god. again?? this time, the shock has ebbed, slightly, enough so that keith isn’t crouched there like a neanderthal with a brain cell count of one. he lifts one hand, reaching, hovering, not entirely certain of what he’s doing, but committed to doing something, but shiro’s already steps ahead of him, ready to cut him off from bothering with his ( still ) useless help. the coughing subsides, and keith tries to find comfort in how quickly it passes - and that there are no fucking flowers emerging from shiro’s throat this time.

so they continue as they are, both of them crouched on the bathroom floor, discussing the concepts of love like this is an entirely normal way to have the conversation. keith takes it all with as much grace as is expected of him: he scoffs. ]

That happens to other people. [ being rejected. keith’s experience with relationships and love is a blank page, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have ideas on how it’s meant to work. and who it’s meant to work for. ] But you're you. There's no one like you.

[ his voice has that stressed strain to it that’s both vehement and firm, the fact that keith full-heartedly believes this so potent that it's impossible to be misconstrued. translation? shiro’s a catch. golden boy extraordinaire to black paladin protector of the universe, shiro is… so much. so much good. ]

So – [ HMPH ] – definitely an idiot. [ a pause, but no, he’s not done. ] Can't you… I don't know, accept this guy's a fool, forget him and feel better?

[ … is that how it works? ]

⟪ keith being completely flabbergasted by the possibility of anyone not returning shiro’s feelings is the epitome of paradoxical comedy. his naivety is entirely too charming, though each new rationale he innocently offers is an extra knife stabbing shiro through the chest. the intricate nuances of love aren’t for the faint-hearted, and it really doesn’t matter whether shiro stands tall on a pedestal. there’s concrete, living proof of that literal inches from him, and the temptation to laugh is finally too strong to resist. it’s nothing loud. it’s just a small, quiet sound bubbling in his throat and making his shoulders rise and fall in rhythmic cadence.

oh, boy. where does he even start. ⟫

It’s not that simple. ⟪ it’s not possible, either. keith is an integral part of his life. of his death. he’s nothing short of an extra limb at this point, and they’ve lived and suffered too much together for shiro to ever be able to forget him. he is, for lack of a better word, a universe all on his own, with clusters of stars shiro knows he could never gaze upon anywhere else. ⟫

You can love someone without being in love with them. That’s what’s happening here. He cares, deeply at that—I know that much. But for this to… ⟪ he gestures towards his mouth, his lungs. ⟫ …stop, he’d... have to be in love with me too. ⟪ and shiro smiles, chin dipping until he stares blankly into his lap. ⟫

[ it’s at the end of his spiel that keith remembers. right; all this talk of shiro being the holy grail of boyfriends and here he’s neglecting to acknowledge that he once had a fiancé. a fiancé who, inevitably, foolishly, did reject him. it makes a little more sense all of a sudden, at least more so than shiro falling head over heels for a restless he’s known for the equivalent of a month. though, in the same breath, it makes less sense, because adam is years in the past. it’s where he should stay, in keith’s opinion. he’s little more than a black splotch in keith’s own memory, because keith certainly holds grudges and he’s yet to forgive the guy who walked out on his best friend at the pivotal moment of his career. is it different for shiro? does shiro not see it that way?

does shiro still love adam?

hard to tell. shiro talks in the present and as far as keith knows, during the days of voltron, there hadn’t been opportunity or means to make contact with earth. perhaps in the timeline shiro is from? the possibility sits heavy in his mind, once again losing his hardened edge. he sighs, gaze drooping down. another beat and then he shifts, moving from the crouch to a full on plop onto his bottom, legs folding in to sit cross-legged. why fight it – they’re going to be here awhile, might as well get comfortable. ]

So… what does that mean? [ shiro keeps shooting down his comments. in fact, it almost sounds like he’s defending this guy for not loving him. tch. discouraged, but unwilling to throw in the towel, keith asks with genuine curiosity: ] Are you gonna keep coughing up petals… forever?

nightfell inbox.

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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