Chapter Text
“I’ll be back before you know it.”
“Right.”
“Keith.”
“Mm?”
“Don’t worry so much. It’s going to be fine.”
“Of course it is.”
“It’s just a mission to collect some space ice. You won’t even have time to miss me.”
“Who said I was gonna miss you?”
“Alright, alright. Well, it’s almost time.”
“Yeah.”
“What, no good luck? No hug?”
“Good luck. You can get the hug when you come back.”
“I’ll take it. And Keith?”
“Yeah?”
“I’ll come back. I promise.”
Keith knew better than to take promises to heart. He learned a long time ago that it was pointless and all it did was pave the way for more heartbreak. Still, he had allowed himself to believe Shiro when he said he would come back. He had to believe Shiro. Shiro, who had never lied to him before. Shiro, who made him feel real and accepted for the first time in his life. Shiro, who recognized potential in Keith and drove him to succeed, encouraged him when others rolled their eyes and congratulated him when he exceeded expectations. He had to believe in Shiro, because he’d done the same for Keith.
And he’d paid quite dearly for that faith.
When the Kerberos mission failed, Keith felt like he was falling. When the people on the mission were reported dead, it was as if he’d landed flat on the pavement. He was lost. He was scared. He was in pain. The one person who had believed in him, who had seen him as something besides good test scores and natural talent, was gone. The only person who had ever treated him fairly, who hadn’t pitied him for being an orphan, vanished in smoke. Alone in his bunk Keith had cried. He’d cried and screamed into his pillow and when at last the tears had ebbed he found that more than anything else, more than sad or lonely or scared, he was angry. Angry at the Garrison for allowing this to happen, angry at himself for not fighting harder to join the mission, angry at Shiro for abandoning him like so many others had, angry at the world for taking away the one stable piece he’d managed to tack on to his life.
He was busted for sneaking into the senior cadets’ quarters to swipe some of Shiro’s clothes before they were removed. He got in trouble for his short temper during practice sims. He was punished for openly, blatantly, impudently challenging leading officers’ commands and explanations. He was reprimanded for wearing Shiro’s promise on a chain around his neck against dress code regulations.
Ultimately, he was kicked out of the Garrison. Which, fine, he didn’t care anymore. He’d only stuck around in the first place because of Shiro. He wasn’t going to miss the lies and the power plays and the obnoxious kid that was always looking at him weird from across the room. He didn’t care if he was a prodigy pilot or was a good test-taker or a natural hand-to-hand combatant. Never in his life had he felt special because of those things, so losing that credit was no real loss at all. What had made him feel different, important even, was just as lost, however.
And when somehow, miraculously, that thing had come back to Keith, it hadn’t come back complete. Shiro remembered him enough to light up when he saw him, but he didn’t remember them. He remembered Keith as the friend he had been, but that was all. And it had crushed Keith a little all over again.
Normally, Keith trained so that he didn’t have to think about these things.
The training bot sent Keith flying backwards. His sword skittered from his hand as he slammed flat against the floor, the wind knocked out of him. Not waiting to recover, he rolled to the side and lunged toward the bot’s legs, shouldering it at the knees and sending it toppling to the floor. Wheezing, Keith sprang to his feet and dived for his sword. His fingers closed on the hilt and he whipped it around in time to block the blow from the bot. He slid in close, locked the hilts of their weapons, and with a quick twist, disarmed the bot. A quick upward slash and the training session was over.
Panting, Keith straightened up, hand going briefly to the cord around his neck. It had fallen out of his shirt at some point during training--the ring had clipped him in the jaw, damnit--and he hastily tucked it back in. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to wear it when fighting, but...
“Well that did a whole lot of nothing,” Keith grumbled to himself, raking a hand through his hair.
He felt just as on-edge and frustrated as when he’d stomped onto the platform, only now he was also tired and drenched in sweat. Resigning himself to another sleepless, irritable night, Keith stowed his bayard and turned to leave, only to come to a screeching halt as someone else entered.
“Keith?” Shiro said, blinking in surprise. “What are you still doing here?”
“Training,” Keith answered with a frown. “What else would I be doing?”
Shiro’s lips twitched, but the smile didn’t last.
“Right.”
The crease in Keith’s brow deepened. There were shadows under Shiro’s eyes, and his shoulders sagged far lower than his usual stoic demeanor would allow. Keith crossed the floor to him and settled a hand on his shoulder. Shiro glanced down at it, then covered it with his own.
“Why are you here?” Keith asked, tilting his head. Shiro’s eyes flicked away.
“Training?” he tried. Keith arched an eyebrow and he sighed. “Couldn’t sleep. Every time I’m close…”
“Nightmares?” Keith guessed.
Shiro nodded mutely. His eyes, that striking gunmetal grey that could be on the unnerving side of intense, were shadowed. Without a word Keith stepped closer, wrapping an arm around his friend. Past the point where Shiro would have been surprised by the act, the taller boy just let out a shaky breath and dropped his forehead onto Keith’s shoulder. He didn’t cry. Didn’t yell, or curse, or really lose his temper in any way. He just stood there, leaning into Keith, breathing in and out without any rhythm and allowing himself a moment of weakness.
Even in the Garrison, Keith had prided himself on being the only one that Shiro would confide in and that could actually calm Shiro down if he was upset. Of course Shiro had plenty of friends, and he’d had even more admirers, but there was a certain distance Shiro had kept between them. To younger cadets, those who idolized him, he had to present the best parts of himself, had to be strong and respectful and cool under pressure. Even within his own circle of friends Shiro had been the leader. Everyone went to him for help and advice, leaning on his shoulders and borrowing his strength. Only with Keith had Shiro made an exception.
He didn’t know why, and he didn’t think Shiro really understood either, but the Garrison’s golden boy trusted the talented problem child. When he was tired or stressed, he could express it without concern for what Keith would think of him afterwards. Keith was the first person to treat him as an equal because coming from his background titles meant nothing and a person was simply a person. Shiro had appreciated that. Had appreciated Keith.
At least that hadn’t changed. Even if they were no longer as close as they had been and even if Keith both feared and resented the feelings that persisted, he was glad he could support Shiro. If all he ever was again was a shoulder for Shiro to lean on, then that was what he would be. And it wouldn’t be enough, but it would be better than nothing at all.
“Keith?”
“Yeah, buddy?”
Shiro said nothing, but curled one hand in the front of Keith’s t-shirt to pull him closer. Once Keith stepped in, Shiro wrapped an arm around his waist, still hiding his face.
“Shiro?” Keith prompted, biting his lip before setting his chin on Shiro’s shoulder. “What’s up?”
“I...don’t know,” Shiro mumbled. “I wanted to say something...but I don’t know what it was.”
Keith closed his eyes. With a sigh he wrapped both arms around Shiro in a proper hug, squeezing slightly but mostly just holding him. Cold metal pressed uncomfortably against his skin beneath his t-shirt, but he ignored it.
“Do you wanna spar for a bit?” he asked.
“Keith, you’re already exhausted,” Shiro pointed out, pulling back to look over his disheveled state.
Keith smirked.
“So it’ll be almost even,” he taunted.
Shiro shook his head, the hint of a smile touching his mouth again. Keith’s heart stuttered.
“You should get some rest,” Shiro said.
“So should you,” Keith pointed out, stepping away from Shiro and moving back toward the center of the room. “Come on, Black Paladin. Unless you’re scared you’ll get your butt kicked?”
A chuckle escaped Shiro and his smile grew. With a defeated sigh he followed Keith out onto the platform. Smirk still in place, Keith turned to face him, already knowing that his chances of beating Shiro were slim to none but ready to count this venture a success simply because he’d gotten Shiro out of his own head. Any time he made Shiro smile was a success in his book.