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It was one of those nights that never seemed to end. It wasn’t exactly busy, but there were enough customers to create an endless stream of dishes to clean, orders to take, of disgruntled people to yell at him when he gave them the wrong amount back at the register. And yet, the clock seemed to be running backwards, his shift dragging on and on at a snail’s pace until Keith just couldn’t take it anymore.
“Cover for me, will ya?” he called out to Hunk as he stalked through the kitchen and made a beeline for the backdoor.
“Sure thing.” Hunk glanced at him curiously as he passed by, but didn’t ask, and soon Keith was embraced by the darkness of the alley that ran between the pizzeria and the laundromat next door.
Once the door shut behind him, Keith stopped and pulled in a breath, letting the cool night air wash over him until he felt a shiver; it was almost winter, but the kitchen was always too hot to wear more than a t-shirt--besides, the cold was good for waking him up. Making him focus.
The alley reeked of garbage and chemicals, but at least there was no one there to bother him. Out of habit, he checked around anyway, glancing behind the dumpster before settling by the vents to keep warm and digging out a pack of cigarettes; he’d been surprised by a junkie a couple of times, and he’d rather not repeat the experience. After lighting up, he slumped against the wall and pulled out his phone.
The screen showed a new message, and before he could finish reading, Keith felt a tug of excitement in his gut.
But then he saw who it was from and the feeling was gone, squashed, eviscerated, leaving a numbness that was all too familiar by now. He rested his head against the wall, looking up to the sky as he took a drag from his cigarette. He wished he could see the stars, but there was always too much light in the city for that.
After a moment, he focused back on his phone. He pulled up Lance’s message and read it.
“You’ll never guess who’s back in town.”
Keith chewed on his lip. He hated guessing--hated that there was only one name that came to his head at the question--but Lance rarely messaged him unless it was something urgent, something relevant. They weren’t that close, but after sharing an apartment with him and Hunk for the past year, they’d gotten friendly enough to exchange numbers. After all, Hunk seemed to trust him, and Keith trusted Hunk, so Lance couldn’t be that bad.
Still, he hated guessing.
“The girl you knocked up last year?”
He waited a moment, but no reply. Keith scoffed to himself, ready to give up; he was nearly done with his cigarette, and Hunk probably needed him back inside. But just then, his phone lit up with a reply from Lance.
“WHAT. What girl???”
Despite his mood, Keith felt his lips curl into a smile. “It was a joke, ” he typed back. Sometimes, getting a rise out of Lance was all that was needed to pick him up.
“Dude, that was too cruel. I almost had a heart attack and it’s all your fault.”
You brought it on yourself , he thought, pushing himself off the wall to head back towards the door. But he was curious now, and he knew Lance well enough that he wouldn’t give the answer unless Keith asked for it. He took a few steps, then stopped to write, “Well, who then?”
But before he got Lance’s reply, he was distracted by a sound. It ripped through the night air, the ambient noise of the usual traffic, pulling his eyes to the mouth of the alleyway. He was used to sirens and shouting in this neighbourhood, squealing tires and breaking glass, but this roar was something else. He glanced at the door, hesitating, then pushed his phone into the pocket of his jeans and dumped the cigarette butt in the trash.
Keith didn’t really believe in destiny, or any of that bullshit. But there was a weird sense of foreboding in the pit of his gut as he reached the end of the alleyway and saw the shiny, black Mustang gliding to a stop in front of the pizzeria. It looked too sleek to belong here, and yet, he knew instantly who it belonged to even before its driver killed the engine and climbed out of the car.
You’ll never guess who’s back in town.
His heart clenched at the sight of Shiro, living and breathing and looking every bit the movie star he’d become. His hair was slicked back, face clean-shaven, the black leather jacket on his shoulders fitting the bad boy aesthetic down to a T. He paused to tug at his jacket, fix his hair, and god, he looked so good , too good to be here in this dirty street, walking into this crummy pizzeria on a weekday night when Keith thought his shift couldn’t get any worse.
He stood frozen in place, stuck between calling out to Shiro and hiding in the shadows, but then the choice was taken from him. Shiro’s eyes darted over to his spot, as if pulled by the sheer strength of his longing, and their eyes met.
Shiro stopped in mid move, recognition blooming on his face, and then he was coming towards Keith with brisk steps and a dazzling smile, and he had nowhere to hide.
“Keith!”
Shiro didn’t wait for his reply but pulled him into his arms, squeezing him tight. And Keith melted into him, into the scent of leather and warmth, the familiarity of Shiro’s touch. It was like he’d been living underwater, holding his breath and just trying to survive, but with Shiro’s arms wrapped around him, he was finally pulled to the surface.
Three months. You were gone for three months and I needed you.
The thought pierced through the jumbled mess in his head, raw and fierce, making him tense up all over again. The last three months flashed in front of his eyes--the endless hours he’d spent stalking every social media account Shiro owned, reading every tabloid where his name had featured, poring over gossip sites like it was his lifeline, the only line that still connected him to Shiro. Like picking a scab to keep it from healing, all the while hoping for that message to come.
And now he was here, in flesh and blood, holding Keith like he’d dreamed in his weakest moments, like he’d dreamed for so long, but--
Three months you were gone, and you didn’t even call.
All too soon, Shiro pulled back; his hands lingered on Keith’s shoulders, like he was reluctant to let go, his face soft with a smile. “It’s so good to see you,” he said, still so close his breath caressed Keith’s face in a warm breeze.
He blurted out the first thing in his head. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back?”
“Ack.”
Shiro’s smile broke into an awkward grin, and suddenly, he looked less like the picture perfect celebrity from the red carpets, and more like the guy Keith had always known. The guy he’d sat with at lunch breaks, had study sessions at the library with and movie nights at the dorms when others were out partying. He looked like the guy who Keith had fallen in love with before everything went to hell.
“I wanted to surprise you.”
“How did you know I was here?”
“I didn’t, but I went to your apartment and Lance told me you were working here now. I--didn’t know you’d switched jobs.”
Keith looked away; he could feel his cheeks burning, and he rubbed his nose, suddenly feeling cold. “Yeah,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Keith, I know you didn’t go back for the semester.”
He froze up for a second. “What about it?” he then said, careful to keep his voice level, though his heart had leaped to his throat, guilt making him sound defensive.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Keith shrugged. “What was there to tell? It wasn’t like we were talking.”
“Keith...” He could hear the note of pleading in Shiro’s voice, and he couldn’t stop himself from stealing a glance at him. Worry was etched all over Shiro’s features, but there was something else there too. Something achingly familiar, yet he couldn’t place it, and then Shiro was talking again. “I wanted to, but you didn’t reply when I tried and--I wanted to.”
Keith flinched. When Shiro had left, disappearing on a press tour that covered more countries Keith could even dream of visiting, he’d been swallowed by a terrible longing. Everything in his life had felt pointless. He’d felt like the rug had been pulled from under his feet, and what was worse, the one person he could talk about it was the person he absolutely couldn’t tell about his feelings.
It got to a point where every time Shiro messaged him, he was overwrought with guilt, on the verge of confessing--and so, he’d stopped answering.
And eventually, Shiro had stopped asking, and by then, Keith had been too lost to fix things.
But now the hurt was back, constricting his throat like a pair of hands, making his chest ache with emotion. I needed you, he thought fiercely, blinking back the wetness from his eyes, desperately hoping it was too dark to notice. “Yeah,” he said.
“Look, it doesn’t matter,” Shiro said. “That’s not why I came.”
“Then why did you?”
“I--” Shiro paused. The world hung in balance for a moment, holding its breath, but then Shiro said, “Are you cold?” His hand was back on Keith’s arm, the heat of his palm seeping through the soft fabric of his shirt. “We should go inside.”
“Oh-- shit, ” Keith cursed, his head jerking to look down the alley behind him, half expecting to find Hunk there waiting for him. He’d been so taken by Shiro’s sudden appearance that he’d completely forgotten he was still on the clock. “I need to get back and finish my shift,” he said, glancing at Shiro, suddenly unsure on how to proceed. “I still have an hour left before we close.”
“I can wait.” Shiro smiled, and even in the glum light of the city, he looked dazzling. Keith tried to smile back, taking a few steps, but before he could get away Shiro said, “Hey, what were you doing out here anyway?”
He grimaced. “Uh.” Shiro had always been against his smoking habit; he probably wasn’t happy to see he’d fallen back to old vices.
But Shiro just laughed. “I’m not going to lecture you, but at least wear a jacket next time--it’s pretty chilly out here.”
“Yeah,” Keith muttered, blushing against his will. “I’ll see you inside.”
“Dude, I thought you’d ditched me! What took you so long?”
Keith felt a pang of guilt at hearing the relief in Hunk’s voice. “Sorry,” he said, heading for the sink to wash his hands.
“No problemo, but we got customers to--”
“Oh my god , you guys--” A female voice interrupted Hunk, and they both turned to look. “--am I dreaming or is that what’s-his-face from that pirate movie? The one who played Silver Hand Gin in it?”
Alice, who was working as the second server that night, was standing in the doorway, her eyes fixed on the restaurant side. She looked halfway between horrified and excited, hands in her hair as she tried to tame the frazzle of her dark curls.
“Shiro?” Hunk’s eyes darted to Keith. “ Shiro’s back?”
Keith tried to keep his expression neutral, but he could feel his cheeks flush with heat. “Uh, yeah. He just--appeared.”
“Wow, that’s a surprise! He didn’t tell you he was coming?”
He avoided Hunk’s eyes and said, “No.”
Alice looked between them in bewilderment. “‘ Shiro’? You--you guys know him?”
Hunk laughed. “I wouldn’t say I know him, personally, but Keith sure does. They went to the same film school.”
Alice turned her gaze on him; her eyes were wide with surprise, but then she broke into a laugh and grinned. “And here I thought you were just a regular dropout. Way to go, college boy!”
“Don’t call me that,” Keith said, pushing past her to the customer side. “I’ll deal with him.”
“Hey, don’t let him leave before I get a selfie! And an autograph!”
Keith clenched his jaw. He liked Alice well enough, but something about her gushing irritated him. But there was no time to dwell on those feelings now. He grabbed a menu and walked quickly to where Shiro had taken a seat in one of the booths.
Shiro perked up at the sight of him. “Hey you,” he said with a smile. He’d taken off his jacket, and Keith could barely stop staring--he’d gotten so used to looking at Shiro through a screen, in 2D, that the presence of him felt almost overwhelming.
“Hey, um. Here.” He stuck the menu out for Shiro to take. “You’re gonna eat something while you wait, right?”
There was a subtle change in Shiro’s expression. “Uh. I probably shouldn’t.”
“What? Why?”
Shiro pulled a face; he leaned back a little, his hand finding his stomach, and--that’s when Keith saw it. The white shirt Shiro had worn under his leather jacket wrapped tight around his torso, and underneath his palm, he could make out the beginnings of a soft, little potbelly.
On a normal person, it wouldn’t have been that noteworthy, but this was Shiro. The star athlete of his high school’s lacrosse team back in the day, always in perfect physical form. He was the musclebound dreamboat who all the ladies (and more than a few guys) in their college had been crushing on since day one. Shiro, the rising movie star whose impeccable physique had lit the thirsty crowds on fire--and now he’d gotten soft, just a little but enough to make a difference, and Keith couldn’t stop staring.
“My agent’s been telling me to lose this before the tabloids take notice, so I guess I should pass on the pizza.” Shiro gave a sigh, his smile looking forced as he asked, “You don’t serve salad, do you?”
“No, this is a pizzeria,” Keith said, then felt like an idiot for stating the obvious. He motioned towards the menu as he quickly went on, “I mean, there’s some on the sides and starters list, but they don’t really count as a meal, you know? I could ask Hunk to make you something off the menu but--”
“Wait, Hunk works here too?”
Keith closed his mouth and nodded. “Yeah. He’s the one who got me this job. And he’s a really, really good chef.” He faltered, cheeks burning, a weird feeling pushing him forward. “You’re really missing out if you don’t try out his pizza.”
He could see that his sale’s speech was making a dent in Shiro’s determination; his eyes slid towards the kitchen, his nostrils flaring at the decadent scent of freshly baked pizza wafting through the air. Keith swallowed--fuck, he should feel guilty for wanting Shiro to break his diet, but...
He didn’t. Instead, he was getting hard.
“That good, huh.” Shiro’s gaze focused back on him. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and he said, “Well, one pizza ain’t gonna make any difference at this point, so--what would you recommend?”
Keith pulled in a breath, but he didn’t really need to think about his answer. “Chicken, bacon and peach with spring onion and sundried tomatoes.” He blushed as Shiro’s eyes flew wide with surprise. “I mean--think you might like that.”
“It sure sounds interesting.”
“You can look at the menu if--”
But Shiro shook his head, handing the menu back to him. “No, I want that one. The chicken one. And bring me some garlic knots too.” He grinned. “If I’m having pizza anyway, might as well go all out.”
Keith was too stunned to reply. “Okay, I’ll--be right back.” Then he turned and rushed off, not stopping even as he realized he’d forgotten to take Shiro’s drink order.
In the kitchen, he repeated the order to Hunk, feeling dazed and rattled. “Do you need me to ticket that?”
“No, I got it,” Hunk answered, his hands busy sprinkling cheese on top of a pair of pizzas soon ready be baked. “But isn’t that--”
“Yes, it is,” he cut in before Hunk could finish his sentence. “Just--make it, please.”
Hunk glanced at him over his shoulder. “Of course, dude. What about drinks?”
Keith looked away. “Uh. I forgot to ask. Can you ask Alice to handle that?”
“No problem. She’s been dying for an excuse to go to Shiro’s table, actually.” He chuckled, but stopped when Keith turned away. “Hey, where are you going?”
“Bathroom.”
He locked himself into the tiny toilet that served as the employee’s bathroom. He set the cold tap running and tried to breathe. From the mirror, a wild-eyed young man looked back at him, his cheeks flaming red and lips parted.
Shiro’s surprise return alone would’ve been enough to shake him, but--this ran deeper. This felt like an earthquake. Keith dipped his hands in the water and splashed it on his face, trying to evict the image of Shiro’s hand on his stomach, on those subtly yet so undeniably softer abs. This wasn’t the time to think about why that thing specifically made him feel like--like he’d been electrocuted, lit up with lust, burning to feel that little bit of pudge for himself.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. ”
He wiped his face, then ran his still wet hands through his hair, boiling with frustration; he knew he needed to calm down, but knowing that somehow pushed him even further down the rabbit hole of his feverish obsession.
He pulled out his phone and opened the app, letting muscle memory guide him to Shiro’s Instagram feed, and started thumbing through the pictures. He’d spent hours stalking Shiro’s account--how could he have missed this? He’d seen all of these pictures countless times, but now he was looking at them with fresh eyes, looking for something, anything to confirm this was a real thing.
Dark suits, black shirts, angles that left Shiro’s waist obscured, hidden from keen eyes. He hadn’t paid attention to it before, because there had been no reason to think anything was out of the ordinary. But it couldn’t be an accident. There were a lot of pictures of food, though. Pictures of Shiro with a drink in his hand, with a plate in front of him--Keith bit on his cheek and kept scrolling, trying to will the flush away from his face.
His finger stopped over sunlit picture, so bright it stood out from the murky bar shots around it. He swallowed. When he’d seen this picture a month ago, his eyes had been drawn on the slightest curve under Shiro’s fitted t-shirt. He’d chalked it up to shadows playing tricks, but now, he stared at the filtered photo, fascinated, painfully aware of how fucking weird this was.
He shut his phone and stuffed it back into his pocket. Splashed his face again for good measure. Stared at his reflection, trying to get his heartbeat down, but he felt shaky, disoriented, like the ground beneath him was shifting, the familiar landscape transformed into something new and--
Fuck, he needed to go back.
“Perfect timing,” Hunk greeted him when Keith emerged back to the kitchen; he grabbed the oven door and yanked it open, the peel ready in his hand. As he turned to plate the pizza, Keith got a full blast of the fresh, fatty aroma rising out of it, and he had to swallow, mouth instantly filled with saliva. “I gotta admit,” Hunk continued when Keith didn’t reply. “This pizza is a masterpiece. Simple yet sophisticated, I’m telling you, we should ask the old man to put this on the menu. People would love it.”
“I know,” Keith said.
Hunk was quiet for a moment. “I know it’s your creation, so just. Say the word and I’ll back you up with the boss man.”
“I know.” This time he managed a genuine smile; there was a reason he trusted Hunk, and his quiet way of reassurance was one of them.
“Okay, this is ready to be served. Do you wanna do the honors or should I ask Alice--”
“No,” Keith said, “I’ll do it.”
He took a breath, then grabbed the plate and the basket of garlic knots, but Hunk stopped him before he could leave. “Hey, it’s fine if you wanna stay and have a chat with him. You shift’s almost over, right?” He offered Keith a smile, and somehow, Keith was suddenly sure that Hunk knew.
“That’s not why I asked him to wait,” he tried to counter, but Hunk shook his head, waving at him.
“Dude, it’s fine. Go and catch up, me and Alice can handle this.”
Keith wavered at the kitchen door, then sighed. “Yeah, okay. Come get me if it gets too busy.” He took a step and added, “Thanks,” before walking out of the kitchen.
He found Shiro sipping on his coke, looking weirdly out of place with all the empty seats around him. Maybe Keith was just too used to seeing him in crowds and groups, smiling at the camera, that seeing him alone like this gave him a flash of dark satisfaction--Shiro had been his, and now he was here, for Keith, and Keith alone.
It got worse when Shiro’s face lit up at the sight of him, but Keith didn’t let him speak. “Are you ready to eat?” he asked, unable to hide the excitement from his voice; he didn’t wait for Shiro’s reply, but slid the plate of still steaming pizza in front of him. “I hope you like it,” he said, setting the basket of garlic knots next to the pizza. He hovered by the table for a moment, then slid into the booth opposite of Shiro.
Shiro pulled in the scent, his eyes closing for a second. “Man, that smells amazing.” He glanced at the utensils, but then went for the pizza by hand, stringing the cheese with the slice as he lifted it to his lips. His eyes flew wide at the taste. “Oh wow,” he said around the bite, “this is amazing.” He swallowed and gave a sigh, then went for a second bite with a pleased hum, and Keith sat there frozen, unable to wipe the grin off his face.
This wasn’t at all how Keith had pictured their reunion to be like. He’d expected Shiro to just appear behind his home door one day--unannounced like now, probably, or just calling him out of the blue, asking to meet. Something--normal. Mundane, like him.
Not that this wasn’t normal. Keith had watched Shiro eat countless times during his life, and this was just one more meal in the many he’d witnessed. Then why does it feel like nothing else before? He saw Shiro’s lips wrap around a bite, and felt--ravished, somehow, like he was watching something lewd and intimate, and not just his lifelong crush eating a slice of pizza .
In all honesty, though--he couldn’t deny he hadn’t thought about this kind of a scenario before. Having Shiro to serve, to take care of and indulge in this simple way. That’s what this whole pizza was about: his love letter to Shiro, the dish he’d created in his day dreams to woo him over, or something equally embarrassing. It was the pizza he’d imagined Shiro would love the most, if he ever came to eat there; every time he’d asked Hunk to make it for him, he’d imagined how Shiro would savor it...
But that had just been a guilty fantasy. Something to think while he went through the motions of a daily existence. Or, it had been, right up till Shiro had rolled back into town with that secret little squish on his waistline, making Keith’s imagination work overtime just to keep up with reality.
“You hungry?”
Keith’s gaze shot up at Shiro’s question, his lips ready to make excuses. “Um,” he said, then shook his head. “Not really.”
Shiro took one of the garlic knots, then nudged the basket closer to him. “Well, help a pal out anyway,” he said, gesturing at the food in front of him. “I feel weird eating by myself.”
Keith followed his lead, but he had a hard time focusing on the food. “Not much privacy on the press tour, huh?” he said, wincing at the jealous note he could hear in his voice.
Shiro grimaced, but it was to himself, not at Keith. “Not really, no. Too many people, too many new faces.” He shook his head like he wanted to clear it from the memory, then stuffed the rest of the garlic knot in his mouth. “But I’m not complaining,” he continued when Keith kept quiet. “It was a great opportunity, and I’m lucky to be part of something so--big. So successful. Next time, I know what to expect.”
Next time. The words made the bready knot in Keith’s mouth taste like ashes, and he wished he had something to drink.
Of course, Shiro wasn’t here to stay. His premier movie after graduating had turned out to be that year’s breakaway hit, the swashbuckling space pirate blockbuster no one knew they wanted until everyone did. And while Shiro hadn’t even been part of the main cast, his character--a one-armed pirate on a quest of vengeance--had been an instant fan favorite, shining the spotlight on Takashi Shirogane as the new star on the rise.
“Did they sign you for the sequels yet?”
Shiro shook his head, his mouth full. “Not yet.” He shrugged, but didn’t seem too concerned, which Keith took to mean he’d been offered the part--it just wasn’t final yet. “My agent said they’re going to give me a bigger role this time around, but nothing’s been decided yet.”
“That’s great,” Keith said, trying his best to smile.
“All the more reason to shed this tour weight.” Shiro laughed, but didn’t let his words stop him from going for another slice, and Keith had to look away.
But then Shiro said, “Enough about me,” and the moment Keith had been dreading had arrived. “What have you been up to?”
He shrugged. “Not much. Got this job.”
Shiro was quiet for a moment. “Hey, I know I said it doesn’t matter--and it doesn’t! But--why did you stop going to school?”
Keith had given up on eating his garlic knot, but he kept poking at it, tearing it to pieces in his hands. He shrugged again, embarrassed at how childish he was acting, but what was there to tell? “I didn’t get the scholarship this year.” He could feel Shiro’s gaze heavy on his features, his shock apparent from the sudden silence, but he kept going, letting his frustration bleed into his voice. “And I didn’t want to work three jobs just to cover a tuition for a degree I don’t even want, so I stopped. End of story.”
“You don’t want to be a director anymore? I thought that was your big dream.”
Keith clenched his jaw, then forced himself to relax. “I don’t need a degree for that,” he said.
He expected Shiro to argue, but instead, he met Keith’s gaze levelly, steady as a rock. “If that’s what you’ve decided,” he said. “I just wish you’d talked to me.”
“I don’t need your help,” he snapped, bristling at the suggestion.
“I know,” Shiro said. “That’s not what I meant.” After a moment of quiet, he continued, voice softer, “Is this why you stopped talking to me?”
Keith opened his mouth. “Yeah, I guess,” he said, but he felt ill at the lie, his insides squirming with regret. He didn’t want to be stuck in this pining existence forever but--Shiro was here, now. He didn’t want to scare him away with a badly timed confession.
“You shouldn’t have,” Shiro said, but he was smiling and it felt too good to not smile back.
“Why are you here, anyway?” Keith asked, eager to move on from his own life.
“I came to see you.”
Shiro’s expression softened, but there was a hint of tension in his gaze, and Keith needed more than that. If Shiro wasn’t here to tell him he was leaving again, off to film a sequel or two, then why had he come? Maybe he has a girlfriend, his treacherous mind provided, or a boyfriend. Maybe he’s here to tell you he’s moving on, moving out from this wretched city but permanently this time, or maybe--
“Is that all?” he heard himself ask, his voice low and miserable.
“Isn’t that plenty?” Shiro countered; either he didn’t notice Keith’s dejection or he ignored it, smiling at Keith indulgently. “I missed you,” he said. “A lot. I--I wanted to fix this, wanted you and I to be talking again. It feels--weird, when we’re not together.” He tried to make it lighthearted, chuckling off his own sappiness, but Keith knew Shiro had meant it.
He felt a stab on longing pierce through his chest as he smiled and said, “I missed you too. And--I’m sorry.”
“Hey, no worries. I’m just as guilty, I should’ve made time for you.”
As Shiro changed the subject, Keith couldn’t help the bubble of hope that sprung up in his gut, light and warm. It wasn’t exactly what he’d wanted, but--Shiro was here, for him . He wasn’t above taking what he could get, even if it was just as friends. So he let himself relax to the soothing familiarity of Shiro’s voice as he talked about the press tour, the cons he’d been too, the crazy fans he’s encountered. He knew he was setting himself up for more heartbreak later, but--this was good enough, for now.
“ Psst, Keith. ”
The whispering voice startled him, and Keith looked up to find Alice standing by their table. “What is it?” he asked, a little annoyed at the interruption.
“It’s almost closing time, and Hunk needs you back in the kitchen.”
“Oh--” Keith glanced around; the pizzeria around them had quieted down, and Keith realized with a jolt that they were the only customers left. Or, Shiro was, and he was still on the clock, sitting on his ass while his coworkers had to pick up the slack. “--shit, you’re right.” He jumped up from his seat and gave Shiro an apologetic smile, but Shiro just waved him off.
“Go,” he said, “I’ll wait for you outside.”
“Oh, you can wait here, it’s no problem,” Alice jumped into the conversation. She gave Shiro a look from under her lashes, then winked at Keith. “I’ll keep an eye on him for you.”
Keith felt a blush rise to his cheeks. “You don’t need to do that. He’s not a criminal.”
“Well, you never know,” Alice said lightly, but she was already moving her attention to Shiro, so Keith saw it better to leave them to it.
But before he could take two steps, Shiro called after him, “Give the chef my compliments! The pizza was excellent.”
Keith stopped to glance back. He’d been distracted by his emotions while they were sharing the table, but now, he realized he’d barely taken part to the meal, even after Shiro had asked him to help. And yet, there were no leftovers--a couple of garlic knots still sat in the basket, but all the pizza was gone from Shiro’s plate. He felt a hot flush travel down his body, and he had to look.
Shiro was sitting too close to the table, but Keith could just make out the top of his full belly, curving out from under his chest. He swallowed hard. “I will,” he muttered, feeling breathless as he turned away and hurried off to the kitchen.
“Oh, there you are,” Hunk said when he saw him.
“Sorry, I got distracted,” Keith said, but Hunk wasn’t having it.
“Nah, it’s fine, dude. Can you just load up the last of the dishes and I’ll finish counting the register?”
“Of course.”
As much as he didn’t want to make Shiro wait, Keith was glad for a chance to think. He needed to calm down, but he felt overwhelmed, like the exposure to Shiro’s presence was just too much. After months of not seeing him, every little detail Keith had loved about him seemed magnified, increased just to make him suffer--it felt impossible just to be around him like they’d used to and not spill his guts, tell him to never leave, tell him that he was Keith’s.
Get a grip, he told himself as he rinsed the empty sinks, waiting for the machine to finish its cycle. He’ll be gone in a few days anyway. That gave him a pause. Even if Shiro stayed for now, he would eventually leave again, and Keith had to learn to live with that.
“Hey, you almost done?”
Keith looked at Hunk, then realized he still had the water running. “Oh, yeah. I think the dishes still need another ten minutes, but otherwise I’m done.”
Hunk clapped him on the shoulder. “Then you should take off,” he said, smiling at Keith, nonchalant as always. “I’ll wait these out, got no rush to get back home--and I think your ride is waiting.”
“Oh.” Shit, he’d forgotten he’d left Alice with Shiro--the poor guy must be done with her relentless flirting by now. “Okay, thanks. Oh--and by the way, Shiro sent his compliments. He loved the pizza.”
Hunk didn’t seem at all surprised. “How could he not?” His grinned. “It was your pizza, after all.” Keith turned away to hide his blush, and Hunk laughed. “Hey, I’m glad he liked it. And--I’m glad you guys are talking again. You seem good together.”
Keith winced. He tried to feign a smile as he looked at Hunk and said, “Yeah,” but he wasn’t sure how believable that came off, and didn’t stay to find out. He rushed off to get his jacket from the dressing room, then back to the restaurant side as quickly as he could. He felt weird, like a firecracker with the fuse burning, and he couldn’t stop thinking about Shiro, Shiro in his tight white shirt, Shiro smiling at him, reaching for another slice of pizza--
Shiro looking up at him when he emerged from the kitchen, his smile bright and pleased, like it had been years since they last saw. “Hey, you done already?” he asked, pushing up from where he’d been leaning against one of the tables.
“Yeah,” Keith said; he stopped the two of them, giving Alice a cursory glance. “I’m ready to go if you are.”
Shiro chuckled, then offered Alice his hand. “It was nice to meet you, Alice,” he said in his most casually polite voice, and Keith felt a twinge of victory. He was the one who got to go home with Shiro, except--not really. But he’d take his victories where he could get them, so he smiled at Shiro, reaching out to catch his arm.
“C’mon, let’s go,” he said, pulling Shiro to move.
“Nice to meet you too, Shiro!” Alice called after them. “And thanks for the selfies--I’ll tag you on IG!”
Keith tuned her out, and Shiro let himself be guided out through the main doors of the pizzeria; once they were out of the street, Keith dropped his hand. He busied himself with adjusting his scarf, tugging at his jacket for more cover--the night had turned colder since he’d last been outside, and he realized he’d never asked what Shiro had in his plans.
“So, what now?” he asked, turning to look at Shiro. “Are you going to take me home, or--”
The street lights cast Shiro’s profile in stark relief, and Keith’s eyes were drawn on the round curve presenting itself through the open front of his jacket. He looked so soft, now, but also full, and Keith felt a shiver running through him like a chill, only this was hot, burning him up with need. He wanted to press against that softness, touch it with his hand--
“Do you want to go home? I was thinking, uh.” Shiro smiled at him, looking a little sheepish when he continued, “You wanna go for a drive?”
“Oh!” Keith’s head snapped to the black car parked next to them. He’d completely forgotten about Shiro’s new ride. He scoffed, turning his eyes back on Shiro. “Oh, so all this just because you wanted take me for a spin on your flashy new car?”
Shiro pulled a face at his teasing, but he looked flushed and excited, like a boy with a new toy. “Well, not just for that but--” His gaze moved to the sport car and he gave out a sigh. “--I promised myself when I had the money, I’d buy one. So. I did.”
He looked so happy Keith couldn’t help but smile. “Then let’s go,” he said, smirking as Shiro’s expression instantly lit up. “I wanna see how this bad boy drives.”
Shiro’s eyes glinted, his smile suddenly cocky when he said, “Oh, I’ll show you bad boy, all right.”
It was clear that Shiro was in love with his new car. He couldn’t stop talking about it as they drove through the city, and after a while, Keith found his attention slipping, his eyes wandering from the gears and consoles to Shiro’s hands, his face, the swell of his round little belly under his open jacket.
He thought about Shiro downing that pizza with ease, with sides, too. It was rare to see him eat with such gusto--he’d been always watching what he ate, following a meal plan the best he could--and Keith just felt so weak, so viscerally attracted to this new side of him that it freaked him out a little. His stalkery habits over the past few months were nothing compared to this obsession, and so he kept finding himself staring at Shiro while he drove, cataloguing the differences and letting his mind wander.
Until he came to realize how the street lights had gotten scarcer, the car plunging into deeper shadows at higher speed, swallowed by a darkness you couldn’t find in the city. The road ahead was empty, curving up the side of a mountain, and Keith felt a shiver of excitement.
“We’re going to the peak?”
“Yeah,” Shiro said, his soft voice barely carrying in the dark car. “Thought you might like the view.”
Keith leaned against the window to look out over the dark hills underneath them, feeling excitement building in the pit of his gut. The lights of the city glimmered like fireflies, falling far behind as they drove higher, the engine roaring as Shiro maneuvered the car up steep curves and sharp twists. His face looked focused, yet exhilarated, and Keith thought, maybe he’d chosen this route for the road, after all. Maybe this was just a test drive. Whatever the reason, Shiro was taking him to see the stars, and it sounded like such a hopeless cliche that he couldn’t help but love it.
They reached the peak faster than he could’ve expected--the road ended almost without a warning, opening up to a stretch of cliff overlooking the land behind the mountain where the city didn’t reach. Keith felt his breath catch at the sight; he sprung out of the car as soon as Shiro had pulled to park, called by the star studded sky stretching deep and endless above him.
Shiro killed the engine, and Keith heard him climb out of the car, but he didn’t turn his eyes away from the starry sky. “It’s beautiful,” he said; his breath formed a little puff in the cold air, and he wrapped his arms around himself to keep warm.
And then Shiro was there, beside him, his arm reaching over Keith’s shoulders, his hand resting on his back. “I need to tell you something,” Shiro said, and it took a moment too long for Keith to realize what this was about.
Shiro’s surprise entrance. His flashy new car. The breathtaking view as a backdrop. He felt like a fool to not have seen it before, but if he’d been watching his life as a movie, this would be the part where--
Shiro cleared his throat. “I--have a confession to make.”
“What?” he croaked.
“I wasn’t lying when I said I came here to see you, but--that wasn’t the whole truth.”
“Then what is?”
Shiro tensed for a moment, then exhaled. “I came here to tell you I’m--I think I’m in love with you.”
Keith felt like he was reeling. Out of all the possible outcomes, he’d been blind to the most obvious one: the one where Shiro was back here to claim him. The one where he got exactly what he’d wanted.
He suddenly felt like laughing. “Oh, so that’s what all this has been about?” He moved out from Shiro’s touch, but only to step in front of him, making him back up against the Mustang’s hood. “You really are such a sap, you know that?”
Shiro’s face had fallen slack with surprise, but his hands moved faster, catching on Keith’s waist as he took a step closer. “Keith...” Shiro’s voice made his name sound like a question, but it could just as well have been a prayer, so softly did he say it.
Keith smiled. “The answer is--”
Before he could finish, Shiro kissed him. It wasn’t the slow, searching kiss Keith had expected, but full on and eager; the kind of kiss that seals the deal rather than asks for it, pure silver screen magic only there were no cameras here to save it--there were just the two of them.
“Sorry,” Shiro said, a breathless murmur against Keith’s lips. “You were saying?”
What had he been saying?
“I love you too.”
He felt joy bubbling up from his chest, the rush of emotion making his eyes sting even as he laughed. “I’ve loved you for a long time,” he said. He wanted to keep going, tell Shiro everything, but his voice came out too choked to speak and then Shiro was kissing him again; he let himself be pulled close, wrapped into Shiro’s embrace, warm and welcoming.
“It took you this long to realize?” he said when he found his voice again, kissing Shiro’s jaw, his cheek, everywhere he could.
“Absence makes the heart grow fonder.” Shiro laughed, but he sounded serious. “Didn’t know what I was missing until I didn’t have it anymore.”
“You still had me,” Keith grumbled against his skin, pulling the collar of his jacket out of his way and buried his face in the crook of Shiro’s neck. “All you had to do was talk to me.”
“Ah--hey, you were the one who was giving me the cold shoulder.”
Keith bit into his skin, and slipped his hands under Shiro’s jacket to grasp at his sides. “You could have tried harder.”
“God, you’re like a cat.”
Keith pulled back to look at him; he’d forced Shiro down to sitting on the hood of the car, straddling his thigh to ground himself, and now, he splayed his hands over the round dome of Shiro’s full belly. He framed it with his hands, pushing the lapels apart to reveal more of his white shirt, but then he felt the belly under his hands shrink.
“You don’t have to do that,” Keith said, moving his hands lower to squeeze into the subtle softness over Shiro’s belly, the part he couldn’t suck in. “I like your tour weight.”
He could feel Shiro’s sharp inhale, but then a moment later, he relaxed his muscles and let his belly roll out, plump and inviting.
“That pizza did me in good,” Shiro said after a beat of quiet; he sounded only half like he was apologizing, and more like he was curious, surprised at Keith’s interest. He could feel Shiro’s eyes on him as he ran his palms over his full stomach, aching to push up the shirt to see the real damage.
But he didn’t even know what he wanted yet--all he knew was that there was something inexplicably pleasing about the soft bulge of Shiro’s little belly. And he wanted to feel every inch of it. All over.
“Is dating a pizza boy going to make my diet a lot harder than I expected?”
Keith’s eyes darted up, and too late did he realize Shiro could read the answer on his face loud and clear. “Don’t say that,” he tried, but Shiro was already grinning.
“Oh, don’t tell me I’ve accidentally stumbled into some weird kinky fetish of yours?” His grin grew wider as Keith valiantly tried to hold his gaze, like he couldn’t be farther from the truth, all the while cradling his gut between his hands like a prize.
Guilty as charged, Keith thought, but he wasn’t in the mood for analyzing. “You should be lucky this worked out in your favor, pizza boy. ” He gave Shiro’s belly shake before nudging him on his back and climbing up to straddle his waist. He gave himself a moment to appreciate the sight--Shiro laid out in front of him, red faced and gorgeous--then kneeled down to kiss him again. “It’s unfair how you make even this look hot,” he murmured, grinding against Shiro as he took his lips with his, pouring his needs, his feelings into the kiss.
It was good to let go--and even better to get his interest returned, tenfold and more.
Shiro rolled them over, supporting his weight on his arms not to crush him, and Keith took the opportunity to slip his hands down his sides and under his belly. He felt Shiro’s muscles tense under his touch, then relax, and he dug his fingers into the soft bit of pudge coating Shiro’s belly, kneading into the fullness, the softness. It felt--exhilarating, and mortifying, making his skin prickle like he was electrified, his breath catching in his throat.
And then Shiro leaned forward, letting his weight rest on top of Keith; his hands were caught between them, but he didn’t even think to move them--it felt too perfect.
“You really like this, huh?”
Keith couldn’t even think of a reply; he tilted his head, and Shiro kissed him on the neck, and god, it really was too perfect.
He felt Shiro’s laugh vibrate through him. “What’s so funny?” he managed, struggling to sound offended.
“Nothing,” Shiro said, apologizing with a kiss under Keith’s jaw. “Just--I had this whole thing planned for weeks, except for, well--” He paused, like he was embarrassed. “--this weight thing. I didn’t realize it was getting that noticeable, until my agent told me to cut it with the junk food and by then it was too late. So I...”
Shiro pushed himself up to look at him, smiling in a way that was both old and new, the same Shiro he’d always been--but now he was Keith’s Shiro, too. The friend turned to lover, the dashing movie star who’d swept the city boy off his feet--framed by the starlit sky, Shiro looked every bit the part, and more.
“I thought I knew everything there was to know about you, but turns out I’ve been walking blind this whole time. You really are something else, Keith.”
He snorted, moving his arms up to catch Shiro’s shoulders. “Jesus, you’re such a sap.”
Shiro grinned. “You know you love it.” He pulled Keith’s legs to circle around his waist, and kissed him, much longer than it took to convince him, and--
How could he not love an ending like this? It was the perfect beginning for a whole new franchise. So maybe it was cliche as fuck, but--Keith could live with that. He had a movie star boyfriend now, and he’d gotten his best friend back, and--maybe found something new along the way.
The Pizza Boy and the Movie Star, he thought, then snorted at the idea.
“What’s so funny?”
“Oh, nothing.”
He could certainly have done worse than this.