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nightfell inbox

nightfell inbox.

𝚅𝙾𝙸𝙲𝙴 | 𝚃𝙴𝚇𝚃 | 𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽

[ 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?

⟪ adam was, once upon a time, the love of shiro’s life. he can’t tell when it shifted, exactly. there’d been a lot of arguments near the end, and during shiro’s captivity, even though he grieved, fragments of resentment started bubbling to the surface. which left him majorly conflicted. on some days, he wished he’d listened to him. peacing out did leave somewhat of a sour taste in his mouth, guilt-flavored. had he stayed, he might have avoided a year of torture, too, but at the end of the day… adam gave up on him before shiro even looked starward. it’s the main difference, probably, between adam and keith—aside from their personalities, wildly mismatched. adam understood him, to a point. keith knows him, almost on a visceral level, and he’d sooner die than give up on him. it’s not what shiro’s looking for in a significant other, obviously—he’d rather keith stay alive and safe, regardless of what happens to himself. but that’s just the thing. when he allows himself the luxury of fantasy… he knows he’d die for him, too, a worthy sacrifice if it means preserving keith’s life. and that makes a hell of a difference.

so yes, he does still love adam, in a nostalgic kind of way. but he’s not in love with him, hasn’t been in years. it faded way before his feelings for keith changed, unparalleled, and now… well. he’s throwing up flowers.

he gives a light shrug, trying to keep his tone light and marginally casual. there’s no use worrying him any more than he already is. ⟫ Who knows? They’re looking for a cure, but on the off chance that he somehow falls for me in the meantime… ⟪ he nods in feigned optimism, smacking his lips together. ⟫ …my symptoms would disappear.

[ keith’s still clutching at that petal by the way. is that weird? it came out of shiro. because shiro is in love with someone. and keith is just… here, sitting, listening, watching, and crushing the tangible representation of shiro’s affections. he loosens his fingers, one by one, letting each roll open until the shred of red is visible in the pit of his palm.

he somehow falls for me in the meantime.

so – not adam? someone who is here? keith chews at the inside of his bottom lip, considering, debating. who is the obvious question, but something keeps him from asking. instead, hesitance causes him to pause and self-doubt leads him to ask something else entirely. ]

Is it because of me? [ he raises his gaze, finding shiro’s. uncertainty is plain to see; it’s there in the knot between his eyebrows and the fullness of his eyes, a touch wider, a touch more vulnerable as he continues to try to keep pace with the conversation. ]

I know I’m around a lot. [ it hurts to say the words. he’s never wanted to be a burden, nor to overstay his welcome. he doesn’t think this is that exactly, but if he’s cramping opportunities for his best friend… – his lungs feel funny through his next breath, a cough hitching the exhale. ] But if, you know… you need time with this other guy, I can make myself scarce.

[ it’s the only viable explanation: mystery man must not know shiro well enough yet. ]

No!

⟪ prompt. unequivocal. shiro started shaking his head the second keith lowered his own, a rueful sort of incredulity scrunching his face. keith, please. torn between wanting to shake him and hold him, the urge to laugh is now completely gone; instead he softens his voice, slightly leans forward, and tries again. ⟫

No. ⟪ it’s not because of you, you frosted flake. or… yeah, okay, fair. it kind of is. just not in the way keith insinuates. ⟫ I like spending time with you. A lot. ⟪ a five year old might have been more eloquent. flirting’s never been shiro’s forte—not that it’s what he’s doing, exactly, but it involves feelings, his own, and he reeks of ineptitude. he should have agreed. not because he wants to, but for keith’s sake, maybe, though it’s clear he’d rather stay in his vicinity.

and shiro, despite his kindness, isn’t selfless. ⟫

There’s no one else I’d rather be with. ⟪ his mouth freezes mid-movement; that’s… not what he means. it is. but it isn’t. ⟫ You’re my best friend. My partner in crime. ⟪ he speaks a little faster than necessary, lips trembling on a smile he struggles to maintain. ⟫ You’re never not wanted, Keith. ⟪ and he gulps down that mouthful of growing panic, careful not to visibly wince. ⟫

[ huh. guess shiro has quite the bone to pick with what he said, huh? thing is, keith does know this. like spending time, no one else, best friend, partner in crime, never not wanted; keith knows this, down deep, there in his chest, safeguarded and easily shielded from the scrutiny of others. no one else gets it. the garrison cadets gossiped about it and the other paladins turned questioning glances his way; their friendship is odd to anyone outside of it. understandable, really. shiro is the epitome of everything to aspire to be and keith is… keith. but even so, he isn’t so dense in the head to delude himself into believing that shiro doesn’t care for him.

… just sometimes he thinks of the clone masquerading as shiro for months and keith’s inability to save his best friend, both from death in their reality and every ailment that keeps piling on him here. at some point, surely, shiro’s favor will wane in the face of all of keith’s failures.

but keith isn’t all that difficult to appease. all it takes to quiet the doubt are earnest words. they breathe a perception of value into him and have him feeling warm and secure. it’s a shame, actually, because he goes shy from such generous doting and looks down in the midst of it, completely blind to the strain of shiro’s smile. ]

Yeah? [ he shouldn’t be greedy. that’s a not so subtle prompting for more. ducking his head a little more, he huffs at his own neediness, tacking on a soft: ] Okay. [ he lifts his head, peeking at shiro through the fall of his bangs. ] But if you change your mind and this guy wakes up… [ he trails off for a beat, the words suddenly sour on his tongue. he shakes it off, forcing a smile. ] I want you to be happy, so… whatever you need me to do to make that happen, just tell me.

⟪ ha ha ha… hargh. look at him, nodding mechanically and smiling a smile that just begs to collapse, to make room for his mouth to open wide and yell. he’s brought all of this upon himself, and he can’t decide what is worse; the tip-toeing around the actual truth, or keith believing that shiro could possibly fall for anyone else. technically, the notion isn’t that far-fetched. shiro’s had multiple crushes in his short life, but after everything they went through together, and the bond that defines them, how could it be anyone but keith?

so he just. resolves to acquiesce, briefly pressing his knuckles into the meat of keith’s bicep, a playful nudge. ⟫ You know I will. ⟪ lol, he won’t. ⟫ But you don’t need to do anything, Keith. Nothing you’re not already doing. ⟪ which is imperfectly perfect, like the rest of him.

but that’s enough focus on him for one day. for a hundred days, even. so he decides to inquire, almost innocently—he knows the answer, but still. ⟫ What about you? ⟪ fingers drum against his own chest. ⟫ Nothing going on here? Or anywhere, really. ⟪ you never know in this forsaken world. ⟫

Edited 2022-11-21 02:37 (UTC)

[ what keith is currently doing is hovering over his best friend, trying – and failing – to find solutions to his ever expanding ailments. so, he’ll just be silently disagreeing with shiro here. keith does need to be doing more, at least in terms of producing results. but in terms of this mystery, other man? keith will leave it to shiro to decide how to handle it. thus far, shiro hasn’t taken to anything keith’s said on the matter, so perhaps that’s its own version of stay out of it.

the thought leaves his chest throbbing, the tightness returning, and – god, it’s frustrating. he measures out his breathing as he has been, filling his lungs until they hit that point in which they ache and then he sighs. all the while, he knows he’s doing a poor job of curbing the disappointed feelings festering just below the surface, so he can only assume that’s why shiro bothers to ask. a white lie is tempting, because he knows any amount of concern channeled his way is concern taken away from shiro’s current situation, but shiro’s effortlessly charming as always and keith loathes to outright lie to him. ]

Not like yours. [ he’s almost apologetic, like he’s sorry shiro got the worst of things, again, while keith continues to remain mostly unscathed. ] It’s harder to breathe sometimes and the cough comes and goes… [ a slow-taking frown, voice vaguely put-out. ] But I’m not throwing up flowers. [ so see? nothing to worry about. he probably just has a cold of some sort. ]

⟪ no, no, no. the deal was… whatever shiro needs from keith to maintain his happiness, he should ask. that’s it. simple enough and taken care of, successfully too. there really isn’t anything else keith should be doing for shiro to keep feeling the way he feels. being keith is the literal key here, his own microcosm of joy in the midst of so much pain. how could he be failing anything when he constantly stokes the flames of the one thing that really matters?

he’s an idiot. shiro is an idiot, so clearly it’s a match made in heaven. alas, they’re nowhere near its wrought-iron gates, and shiro’s pulse hiccups uncomfortably at the mention of keith’s mild symptoms; what does it mean. it could be a cold. for real, this time. or it could be the same sickness, progressing slower. there’s a reason shiro hasn’t mentioned how it unfortunately ends if never cured, and his face sours, blanching on a mix of dread, denial, and grief, translated into one stupid word. ⟫

Huh. ⟪ that’s it. that’s the word, exclaimed dumbly, and shiro looks the part. it lasts for a dozen blinks, and then he tries to rationalize it. ⟫ Does it… feel like anything you’ve ever had back home? Strep throat, maybe? ⟪ his own tightens, making his voice a bit more breathy. ⟫ Or is there… someone. ⟪ he almost whispers the word, gravelly too, like he doesn’t want to jinx it, make it real. ⟫

Edited (i will post this video as often as i possibly can) 2022-11-23 01:21 (UTC)

[ now that the focus is turned on him, keith grows quieter and quieter. whereas before he’d had plenty to say in regards of shiro’s predicament, here, he goes mostly mute. it’s unintentional uncooperativeness. he knows shiro is worried and he doesn’t want him to be worried, but he doesn’t know how else to ease his best friend when he himself fails to comprehend why he’s bothered in the first place. he said he isn’t throwing up flowers; over, done, case closed. what else is there to be concerned about when, frankly, there are much more important things to worry about? much more important people?

at least he stays seated. he still feels it at times, the age-old urge to run when he feels out of depth and floundering, but he stays the current course, shrugging once, shrugging twice to those first two questions. he doesn’t know – maybe? he’s not holed up in his bed, stuffing kleenex up his nose or trying to break a fever. he’s no doctor – everyone’s favorite line to say around here – but he doesn’t think his lymph nodes are swollen and he’s definitely not suffering from malaise. he’s still rearing to get to the library and read text until he goes cross-eyed or finds a cure, whichever comes first.

but then there’s a third question.

keith doesn’t mean to laugh. it isn’t the right kind of laugh, either. it’s a quiet thing, though sharp and quick. he gives shiro a perplexed look, mouth twisted up in a smile that doesn’t go with his eyes. ] Heh. Funny. I’m not built for that sort of thing.

[ thing. relationships. love. forever and always. most everyone in his life leaves or lets him leave. once upon a time, he knew better than to ever get attached to someone else. nowadays, it still mostly stays true, albeit for one obvious exception. he came out of galaxy garrison with no friends. team voltron keeps on fine without him. the blades don’t do connections because they compromise the mission. so really, shiro. who would he be in love with? ]

⟪ first of all, ouch. second of all; yeah, who could he possibly be in love with???? it’s a mystery. but third of all, fucking ouch. it’s an arrow through shiro’s chest, which is already a mess; his eyes grow wide with shock, old sorrows coiling within. keith. abandoned just often enough to believe himself undeserving of love. a broken afterthought, never given much of a chance to flourish. there are people for whom romance is undesired, solitude preferred, though this is something else. it’s not even just romance, in keith’s case. he’s always been reluctant to forge bonds with people, the threat of being left again always looming a little too close. there’s a reason he tries so goddamn hard for shiro, and honestly, it breaks his heart. ⟫

Keith… ⟪ eyebrows pinched and pained, shiro mentally chastises himself for even mentioning anything. keith isn’t the boy he once were, granted, but some wounds are deeper than others. ⟫ Don’t say that. ⟪ it’s almost a plea. there’s nothing accusatory in his tone, or commanding for that matter.

he reaches out, loosely wrapping his hand around keith’s forearm, near the wrist. ⟫ There’s no such a thing as being unfit for love. You deserve to be loved, we all do. You are. ⟪ loved, and he nods as he says the words, as if to emphasize them, make them even stronger. ⟫ And you’re capable of it, too.

[ obviously, shiro was never going to let keith get away with saying that. obviously, shiro would rush to his defense. still, for someone who routinely expects nothing, the grasp of shiro’s hand has keith stumbling over a breath. he goes tense for a split second, but it’s shiro, seeking out connection and hoping to invoke comfort, so of course keith has little defense for that. relaxing, keith waits out shiro’s words, measuring out the pros and cons of refuting those hallmark, overly optimistic views on love. no, not everyone deserves love. and no, the universe does not owe it to anyone to will it. the only thing anyone can truly count on is that reality is cruel and unfair, the prospect of finding that one person who supposedly completes you so astronomically slim that keith doesn’t know why anyone bothers.

then again, is keith actually missing that? yes and no.

he continues to stare at the loose wrap of fingers and then slowly, shyly, draws his gaze up to find shiro’s ever concerned eyes. he’s capable of it, huh? ]

I guess. [ he could leave it at that. he probably should leave it at that. but his mind is digging up memory and he thinks of the one and only time he’s ever said the words. it has his chest aching and his stomach unsettling, suddenly feeling wrong on a visceral level that runs throughout. shiro never got to hear, did he? does he even know? if anyone deserves to be loved and to know they’re loved, it’s shiro. that’s all it takes. a mix of obligation, guilt, and ever potent care has keith fumbling through the words. ]

I mean – I love you. I said it before, to the clone, but I… I wanna say it to you, too. [ he swallows thickly, voice a touch hoarse with emotion. ] Because you’re my best friend. My brother. [ a breath and now a steadier: ] I love you.

⟪ okay, sure. maybe not everyone deserves love, but keith. pls. he’s not going to get into specifics when you’re the whole thing that matters here. forgive him if he’s a little biased, vision keith-colored… which is, granted, slightly hypocritical of him. shiro would probably share similar thoughts, if roles were reversed — aka, who could possibly love him. or better yet, who should. the list is practically blank, but without at least a modicum of vain hopes and blind ambitions, what else could tether them to a semblance of normalcy? to sanity? shiro didn’t make it this far by delving deep below the surface, because if he did, he might have disappeared much sooner. he’s still a fraud, isn’t he. he knows what dwells there, the dregs of humankind, its cruelty and its flaws, and still he throws pipe dreams all over the place as if to mask reality. he does believe in people. in their capacity to do great. he just isn’t sure whether the universe is on par with his efforts anymore, and he’s. so tired.

but keith. keith is a diamond in the rough, the epitome of resilience, a supernova. he’s inspired shiro so many times, directly and indirectly, that he should probably be considered the real mentor between them. shiro, for lack of a better word, failed him. keith would disagree, the same way he hesitantly accepts shiro’s reassurances—neither of them see themselves in the same light the other does, and it pains him. it’s what he looks like, probably, as keith acquiesces. pained. i guess, he says, but his mouth keeps moving and shiro is inadvertently struck dumb, gaping like a stranded fish.

i love you. fuck, it hurts. sweetly. bitterly. it hurts and his eyes water, and a chuckle-snort escapes his throat, swollen. keith looks so damn vulnerable. it brings back fragmented memories, not even his own, barely discernible in the back of his mind, where fog thickens. his jaw tightens. he huffs a breath through gritted teeth, blinking too fast, and then he nods, silent, momentarily dreading what his voice might sound like if he spoke. when he finally dares to catch his gaze, his own shifts, longing warring with heartbreak across his face. ⟫

I love you too, Keith. ⟪ his smile trembles, overwhelmed; he stares deeper into the midnight blue of his eyes, chest constricted. bewitched. ⟫ So much. ⟪ murmured. almost a private thing to himself, pupils dilating as quickly as his pulse increases. look away, and ultimately, he does, leaning back and groaning on a small laugh. ⟫ Alright. Enough with the sentimental lessons. ⟪ he manages a decent grin, casually rubbing at the moisture on his cheek. ⟫ Gotta keep some of that water for my inner garden.

[ if he loves him, why does he look so… so… – keith can’t place it. miserable? no. he’s smiling and it’s true, albeit weakened. it’s simply – a lot. overwhelmed? that comes to him next but it doesn’t take. keith certainly isn’t someone to get all tangled up inside over. it’s a comfort, though, despite the mild confusion keith harbors for the strain of shiro’s expression and intensity of his gaze. keith tries not to assume or take for granted anything of importance when it comes to shiro, but admittedly, he’s allowed himself to believe that their bond is everlasting. yes, their bond, not the one manufactured by this place. so even though they’ve never said it openly to each other, he’s thought… he’s hoped that shiro loves him just as much. recent events have faltered that belief, mainly due to his own perceived failures, but if shiro is saying it now…

he draws a full breath, not a single twinge or ache of discomfort pulling at his chest. even the pinpricks low in his throat that jar with a swallow are suddenly less. what… – did something…

but he never finishes the thought. all curiosity for himself is shelved because that sheen to shiro’s eyes isn’t him catching the light. shiro wipes at his face and he’s… crying…? confusion rushes, panic induces, shock encapsulates… and then, of course, shiro is making a stupid joke that isn’t even funny, but blindsided as he is, keith can’t help the shocked huff of laughter. one, two, and then it’s over, his breath steadying and expression sobering, though it hopelessly keeps that pinched hint of distress.

time to move on. that’s what shiro wants to do, so keith wrestles down his desire to ask obvious questions. the least he can do is show shiro the curtesy of not drawing attention to what he clearly doesn’t want to dwell on. ]

Okay. [ it doesn’t do well to sound so miserable. he gives his head a shake and then pushes himself to his feet, hand already held out in offer to shiro, who, of course, doesn’t need help, even though he’s tiny these days. he second guesses himself actually, not wanting to give off the impression that he thinks shiro is weak and so, he takes his hand back shortly after extending it, fiddling with the hem of his shirt instead. ]

If we’re done here, we need to get to the library. The sooner we start looking, the sooner we’ll find a cure. [ to one, two, maybe even three of shiro’s ailments. ]

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