Chapter Text
Keith pulled hard against his restraints, feeling the harsh edge of the material pressing against his throat.
“NO!”
Smaller hands thrashed, legs kicked, thudding against the cushioned seat. The smell of cigarette smoke and whisky clung to her like glue.
“I don’t wanna!” Larger hands, rough to the touch and stained yellow gripped hard, fingers easily wrapping around his wrists, causing them to ache. Another cascade of tears,
wails and inaudible shouts filled the near-empty parking lot. No one ever questioned a temper tantrum.
“Sit STILL.” Cries turned into gasps as he struggled to breathe through his blocked nose.
“He doesn’t like being in the front, mom.” Shiro’s voice, though loud and clear, barely broke through the cries of his younger brother.
“T-Tough shit. M’not gonna let him push me ‘round.” Finally managing to pull the seat belt over the eight-year-old, she stood up gripping the car for support. “I’M the parent. I’m the one that’s in control here, not him!”
“I’m going to be SICK!” That did it. Any notion of control was out the window as she spun round and undid the seat belt, tugging on the younger boys arm hard enough to propel him from the passenger seat to where Shiro stood a couple meters away.
“For fuck’s sake! Just sit in the back then!” Their mother clumsily staggered to the driver’s side, fumbling with the lock.
Shiro crouched and pulled his sobbing brother up from the ground, examining his grazed palms.
“I’ll sit in the front… There isn’t room for both of us in the back.” Even at twelve, Shiro’s voice was the sound of reason to Keith. The perfect balance between being firm and fair.
“Momma’s drunk, Takashi…” He sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve, causing the older boy to cringe slightly.
“Yeah, yeah she is.”
“Can we call dad?”
“He won’t come… It’s a five-minute drive, we’ll be fine. And…” Shiro’s worried look suddenly turned into a grin. “Your fit gave us enough time to beat the rush-hour traffic! Good job, Keith.”
Although still sniffling, Keith stood up straight with pride, his grin matching his brother’s. He could always rely on him to find the good in the bad.
Although the back seat was cramped, with the Christmas tree taking up half the space, Keith instantly felt better and the prospect of decorating the large pine improved his mood greatly. Even in its netting it was huge, and he couldn’t wait to see it stood in the living room, branches out-stretched and sparking with lights and ornaments. Even through the over-powering stench of tobacco, the sweet scent of pine-needles and fresh soil filled Keith with a warm feeling, allowing him to begin to drift off, listening to the hum of the evening radio and the engine of their crappy old car.
Keith savoured warm moments like this, because they always came to a screeching halt. Often with screaming, and almost always with a bang.
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Keith bolted upright in bed, the smell of burning rubber and the sound of sirens turning back into a familiar dull throb behind his eyes. He kept them closed for a while before blinking several times, taking in the familiar surroundings of his room. The tartan bedsheets were strewn across his small double bed, the pillows damp but still in their place. Cushions lined the place where his bed met the wall, allowing him to curl up into the corners comfortably in the evenings without becoming cold. Wooden floors with dark purple rugs were surprisingly tidier than most seventeen-year-olds, except for the odd sock, book or DVD scattered around and his desk held his laptop. Above it his TV still played some kind of late night talk show that he’d kept on quietly to fill the silence of the apartment. The curtains were parted just enough for Keith to see that it was dark out, but the Eastern border had begun to turn a dark blue, indicating he was only a couple hours from when he would really need to get up. Glancing at the alarm-clock, the glowing red digits showed that it had just gone four-thirty in the morning. The sinking, nauseous feeling at the pit of his stomach was enough to tell him that he wasn’t going to get much more sleep, and he reached out to open the window, letting the cool autumn air wash over him, fill his lungs and chill the room. Shiro would no doubt lecture him about it later, but for now he took a small bit of pleasure in the fact that today was jacket weather.
It took a while for him to get into the shower. As much as he hated the sticky feeling of sweat making his loose t-shirt cling to him like a second skin, he’d prefer to come back to a tidy room, with his clothes laid out ready on his now tidy-looking bed. Today was definitely a day where he’d wear his favourite red and white jacket, a dark grey t-shirt underneath and black jeans held up by a belt. He’d always been slim for his age, but Shiro’s constant need for company at the gym hadn’t exactly made him skinny. His six-pack wasn’t visible through his t-shirt, but it was there, and he was stronger than he looked, but no matter what, Shiro easily dwarfed him. It had always been that way and Keith mused at how much the two had changed over the years. When Shiro was twelve, he’d been tall and one look would tell you that he was athletic and would one day fill his broad shoulders. Having more responsibilities than the average preteen, ones that extended further than walking with his younger brother to school and doing the dishes, he’d seemed mature for his age. Keith could scarcely remember a time when Shiro was just a child, rather than a mini-adult. Maybe that’s why he was so eager for Keith to ‘enjoy his youth’ and make more friends.
The six-year gap in which the two brothers had been separated- one going with their father to Japan and the other moving in with a neighbour before being placed into foster care – had changed them both. In fact, the day Keith’s old head-teacher had pulled him out of class and taken him to his office, he scarcely recognised the eighteen-year-old. Sat next to his social worker, Shiro seemed to dominate the room with an authoritative force, demanding nothing but respect from the two other adults in the room. Even Keith, at his most edgy time of his life, said nothing and waited to be introduced. Shiro had donned a suit, smart black shoes and his hair, which had once been all black but always shorter than Keith’s, now had a slight undercut, jet black at the top except for a large white tuft where his fringe would have been. From his physique Keith could only assume that the man at the desk had been a police officer or maybe a military official. But something in the warm smile and comforting eyes had clicked everything back into place.
It was at times like this that Keith had to remember the quiet calm that usually accompanied Shiro, as his brother’s loud snores reverberated off of the walls from his bedroom down the hall. At least Keith didn’t have to worry about waking him as he walked down the hall to the large, pristine bathroom. The bath was large enough for two, with a jacuzzi setting that Keith would never admit to using and a large mirror lined one of the walls, the black marble counter top holding the sink and an assortment of hair products and soaps. All of these he ignored as he made his way to the shower, turning the temperature further away from Shiro’s preferred setting that seemed magma hot to Keith’s preferred luke-warmth. Instantly, he felt some of the anxiety that had come from his recurring nightmare fade, as the water soaked his mullet and ran down his body, washing away the sweat and the grime as it did so. Keith sighed, letting go of the night before as he tried to picture the day ahead.
“Something smells good.”
Keith glanced over his shoulder at Shiro as he slid three fried eggs onto the two plates in front of him.
“Coffee’s on the table.”
“Thanks.”
He served up a few sausages, some bacon, beans, toast and hash browns before making his way to the table, leaving the pots behind to soak as the two brothers tucked in to a hearty breakfast. Shiro let out an appreciative moan.
“I needed this today.” He said into his coffee mug. “Matt and I are driving down to Javeeno to discuss the new expansion for Voltron with the graphics team.”
That perked Keith’s interest. As if having a brother that was willing to become a legal guardian at eighteen wasn’t great enough, he also created and co-owned the internationally renowned online virtual reality game ‘Voltron; Legendary Defenders.’ Which also meant that Keith got to play the game and its expansions before they were officially released. The practice is what made him so good; a well-known high-ranking player at level 97. This was equally surprising as ‘Red_Blade’ usually went on solo missions.
“So you and Pidge need to get ready to trial run the new villain.”
Keith raised his VLD mug and smirked before clinking it against Shiro’s. A silent challenge, but one that the older brother read loud and clear. ‘Fight me.’
A comfortable silence passed between the two while they finished their breakfast, both plates empty of food and both mugs refilled as Keith made a move to take Shiro’s plate into the kitchen.
“So… You’re still not sleeping?” An innocent question, one asked out of concern, but still it made Keith shiver slightly. Only his brother and his best friend, Pidge, had the ability to read Keith like an open book, and honestly, he was grateful for it most of the time. He’d never been one to open up when something was wrong so having the two of them seemingly know what’s going through his mind without him having instigate a conversation was helpful. But sometimes it also left Keith feeling vulnerable, like everyone was watching him, knowing what he was thinking, and it felt almost invasive. He didn’t have the energy to get too defensive about it.
“Not really.” He admitted, not looking his brother in the eyes as he cleared the table and moved into the kitchen. Shiro followed at a distance. He knew from experience that the more he pushed Keith, the more the seventeen-year-old would pull away.
“You should speak to the school councillor, you know.” He said, folding his arms and leaning back against the counter. “Before this gets out of hand.”
“Yeah, well it won’t get out of hand.” Keith replied, dropping the plates in the soapy water and attacking them with the sponge. “I’m fine, Shiro.”
There wasn’t really any need for him to do the dishes. Shiro had more than enough money to hire a cleaner who came to the apartment almost every day and would leave after half-an-hour due to the apartment never really being dirty. The same couldn’t be said for when they first moved in. The living room and kitchen were in a constant post-apocalyptic state, with pizza boxes, games and clothes strewn across the floor and furniture. But as Keith’s insomnia got worse, he found himself needing to fill the time. Cleaning kept his mind busy and the maid happy. Shiro had also become tidier as he got older, but he wouldn’t do it as religiously as his brother did.
Keith felt the chill of a metallic hand placed gently on his shoulder and it made him shiver. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the fingers glinting in the light and he felt a sudden pang in his chest. The lack of an arm didn’t frighten like it did when he and Shiro were first discharged from hospital, but it still served as a memory of that day.
“I called the school on Friday, Keith. You have an appointment this afternoon.”
He froze, as if someone had pressed a gun against his head and told him not to scream. Spinning round, he scanned Shiro’s face for any signs of a joke, but he just stood there, looking as matter-of-fact as ever and ready for whatever verbal onslaught he was about to receive.
“What the fuck, Shiro?!” Keith spat, forgetting about the dishes and gripping the edge of the counter as hard as he could. “I don’t need to speak to a councillor! I’m. FINE.”
“You’re clearly not fine. First you’d wake up screaming but now you won’t sleep at all.” Shiro ran his own hand through his hair, sighing. “I thought maybe it’d sort itself out and you’d be fine once you’d settled in, but it’s been a year, Keith. You sleep like, what, two or three hours? Four if it’s a good night?”
Keith gritted his teeth.
“I’m sorry. But you’re going to that appointment.”
If there was anything Keith really looked forward to about school it was the bike ride. Twenty minutes from his home to Altea High School was all it took when he went at a decent speed. The journey was made longer by the ten-minute detour to pick up Pidge, who wordlessly through her bags into the paniers at the back of his bicycle before climbing up to sit on the handlebars. Sure, this made it a little harder to see and steer usually. But Pidge was short enough that Keith could just about see over the top of her head and although she was heavier than she looked, he had no problem turning corners.
Pidge popped a piece of bubble gum and adjusted her glasses.
“Matt says we can test the new expansion in a couple weeks. Do you wanna make a marathon of it? You, me, both our computers and a take away?”
“Sounds good. Aren’t you cold with just a jumper?”
Pidge snorted loudly. “Coming from the man with the bottom half of his jacket missing!”
Keith couldn’t help but smile a little, but it was short-lived as he thought about the appointment at lunch time.
“I’ll drop you off, but I’ve gotta go somewhere.” At that, Pidge reached next to her and squeezed the break, causing the bike to halt awkwardly and Keith felt a sharp pain shoot up his leg as he slammed his foot on the ground. Pidge hopped off before the bike could topple onto its side and turned to face her friend with searching look.
“Okay, spit it out.”
“What the hell was that for?!”
“You’re avoiding something, and I want to know what! It’s not like you to skip class.” Any look of exasperation vanished as she became concerned. “Talk to me, Keith.”
Pidge had always been more aggressive than Shiro when it came to getting Keith to open up. It was like trying to get blood from a stone. For a brief moment, he considered getting back on his bike and going home. Shiro would be at work by now and wouldn’t be home until much later. But no doubt the school would notify him of his absence. And that was probably worse than talking to Mr Smythe.
“Alright, alright. Shiro’s making me talk to Mr Smythe. He seems to think it’ll help me sleep.”
Pidge seemed to ponder this for a moment, and during that time she had decided who’s side she was going to take.
“It might, you know. By all accounts he’s pretty good at giving advice if you avoid any historical topics.”
“He’ll want to talk about what happened.”
“So?”
“I don’t want to talk about what happened.”
Pidge pursed her lips. “We’ve all got to do things we don’t want to do, Keith. Just try it.”
Keith didn’t have many friends. In fact, he’s pretty sure if it wasn’t for Pidge, he’d never have stuck with the group the two hung out with.
Hunk was a close friend of Pidge’s, and when she’d first introduced them, the two didn’t exactly hit it off. But over the last couple years, the joke-y, easy going nature that Keith had once found insensitive had become a great source of amusement. As well as Pidge, the Samoan had become his go-to study-buddy when it came to exams and coursework, with Keith providing the space, Pidge bringing a shit-tonne of books and Hunk bringing study snacks, the three had formed a fun, yet efficient relationship.
And then there was Lance.
If ever Keith was asked to find someone who was the polar opposite of himself, Lance would be picked ten times over. Whilst Keith was introverted, Lance was extraverted. Keith preferred darker colours (except for maybe the red jacket), Lance preferred to stand out. Keith had few friends, Lance seemingly got along with everyone. And most of all; Keith wanted nothing more than for the Cuban to ignore him, but Lance seemed to get some perverse kind of pleasure out of getting Keith riled up.
“Hey, Mullet!” A heavy hand landed on the back of Keith’s head. If the shout hadn’t forewarned him of the other’s presence, then he probably would have stumbled. Instead he only winced slightly before Lance turned to look at him, with the same smirk that played on his lips every god forsaken day.
Out of the corner of his eyes he caught Pidge give him a discouraging look. Having seen it a hundred times before, he knew immediately what she meant. ‘Don’t let him get to you.’
As fond as she was of the taller man, she knew he liked to press Keith’s buttons.
“What do you want, Lance?” Keith kept his eyes on his phone, absentmindedly checking for messages that he knew weren’t there.
“Woah, can’t I just say 'hi' to my buddy-bud-bud?”
“This is you we’re talking about, right? ‘Course not. We don’t have class until last period, so what do you want?”
“Nothing!” Lance protested in mock offence. Keith’s shoulders relaxed a little. “But now that you mention it-“
“What.”
“Remember that homework we had for today? The online exam paper?”
Keith felt exasperation well up inside, making its way into his voice as he side-eyed Lance. “Yeah?”
“Well I didn’t!”
“No-“
“Aw, come on, MCR, you’ve gotta help me out here!”
Keith sighed, stopping in his tracks by his locker.
“If I let you copy my answers, will you leave me the hell alone?”
Lance nodded, pouting and doing his best to give Keith a puppy dog look. Keith sighed, pulling his paper out of his shoulder bag and handing it to the brunette, who grabbed and grinned.
“Just put your name on it and give it to me after lunch.”
Lance’s hand rested on the locker, just Keith’s head and leaned in close, his lips so close to Keith’s ear that he felt the warmth of the other’s breath run down his neck. He felt his face go hot and for a moment he couldn’t think. The world around him turned into an unimportant buzz in the background as Lance parted his lips.
“Oh, I’ll give it to you, Keith.” He suddenly felt like his legs had turned to jelly. “But not in the way that you want.” Lance suddenly backed away, looking triumphant.
He could feel the taller man’s grin as he stalked away and reality came crashing back down. He slammed his locker door shut and shoved passed Lance, who stood cackling to himself. He felt like a million eyes were watching his flustered face.
“I thought I told you I don’t swing that way, mullet-head!” Lance shouted after him, causing many of the teenagers in the crowded hallway to turn and stare, some giggling and whispering to one another.
Lance McClain.
Fuck that guy.
It wasn’t Keith’s first time in the councillor’s office, but he could count on one hand the number of times he’d been in.
The first time had been when he first moved in with Shiro, who’d accompanied him on his tour around the school a couple days before he was due to formally start. Coran Smythe had bustled into the room, already launching into an anecdote about how frightening his first day had been and how terrible it had gone. Safe to say it did nothing to settle his nerves. Shiro had seemed to catch onto his mood and had quickly changed the topic to any extra support his brother may have needed to help him get through high school. To Keith’s dismay, Shiro had asked Coran to book in a few sessions with Keith to help him get past the night terrors and deal with any emotional baggage he may have gained from being bounced around from one foster home to another over the six years prior.
The second time had been a couple days later. He’d barely been there an hour, and honestly, he wanted nothing more than just to settle into his classes as best he could and meet up with Pidge during their breaks. But Coran had waltzed into the room, loudly exclaiming that he wanted to have a quick word, which soon became an hour-long discussion. The desk had held a large open file, one that Keith had seen a million times before. The one that documented all his previous homes, schools, the contact number for his social worker and any issues he may have had. And from the look of it, it had been well-read and rehearsed. The hour was spent by avoiding answering difficult personal questions (Keith) and pressing for more insight into the ‘troubled’ mind (Coran). By the time Mr Smythe had given up, he’d decided Keith needed a ‘fresher face’ to talk to.
And that’s how he met Lance. Even at fourteen, Lance was tall for his age and was starting to pack a small bit of muscle. Tanned skin and dark curly hair with an undercut was tied together nicely with his easy-going smile and dark blue eyes. Keith took to him straight away, and the next few weeks were spent with Keith tailing behind Lance, who introduced him to most of the year group, but mostly got him in with Hunk. He’d already known Pidge for a few months, during the time he was settling in to his new home and she’d accompany her brother whenever Matt went to visit Shiro. But with Lance it was different. He’d had crushes before, but they were buried way down, underneath his fear of rejection and lack of opportunity. Lance made him confident. Both were competitive and hot-headed, which made their conversations more heated and exciting. And somehow, among all the light flirting from Lance and the jokes, Keith thought maybe there was a chance that the Cuban liked him back.
The third and last time, Keith had actually gone in voluntarily, having skipped the last three weeks’ worth of counselling sessions. He’d been to enough sessions with social workers, care workers and the occasional police official to know that he was nothing more than interesting case study and a way to pay the bills. But by then he’d been desperate. He hadn’t told Pidge about what had happened at the party, but she knew about Keith’s feelings for her friend, and she probably suspected something had gone awry along the way. Shiro was a no-go. Not that he would’ve minded Keith being gay, but he would’ve wanted to know everything about Lance and the younger brother didn’t put it passed Shiro to confront Lance about what he had done if Keith had given him the chance. Hunk was instantly ruled out, partly because he hadn’t known the guy as long as he’d known Pidge, and partly because he was Lance’s best friend. So that left Coran, who’s eyes lit up when Keith had walked into the room.
That same glimmer of excitement was there when Keith dropped his bag on the ground and sat down heavily in the chair. The waiting room to Mr Smythe’s office and the office itself hadn’t changed much since Keith last visited. The same old over-stuffed chairs, the same old desk and motivational posters on the wall and the same old councillor with his ginger hair tied back and his moustache finely trimmed and combed. The whole room made Keith feel nauseous.
“Mr Kogane! Shiro told me you’d be dropping in.” Keith said nothing as the older man sat on the chair opposite him. Ever since he discovered Shiro was the co-owner of the ‘Voltron’ game, he’d decided he knew enough to be on first name basis with him, often stopping Keith in the hallway and asking if there have been any developments in the game’s open world map. Every few months, a new expansion adds a new planet to explore or more bosses to fight. Luckily Mr Smythe stopped approaching him when Pidge’s brother, Matt, had told him that both Pidge and Keith didn’t want anyone to know their connections to the game. It would only lead to trouble.
“You should have told me you were still having trouble sleeping! Not that it seems to be effecting your grades.” Coran glanced at the sheet on his clipboard. “Or your attendance! Ninety-nine per cent attendance so far in the time you have been here, and you have an A* average!”
“I don’t go out much.”
“And I bet you have more time on your hands. What with having five more hours in your day with your peculiar sleeping hours.” Coran brushed his moustache in attempt to hide his yawn. “Sorry, as soon as I read anything about sleep, I begin to doze off! Just the other day I-“
“Mr Smythe, what do you recommend to help me sleep?” Keith blurted out. Although if Coran called him every night before bed, that’d probably kick his insomnia into kleptomania.
Coran smiled and handed him a pamphlet, reading ‘So You’ve Tried Counting Sheep’.
“I suspect you’ve read something like this already. The main highlights are things like cutting down on caffeine, do regular exercise, keep your brain active, et cetera, et cetera. But for you I’d say that the cause of your sleep troubles is more psychological and emotional than physical.”
‘Here we go.’ Keith barely manages to supress a sigh.
“I believe if we have a few more sessions and uncover the cause of all this distress, things will get better. We won’t leave any stone unturned and we’ll tackle all your demons together-“
Keith grabbed his bag. “Look… I’m grateful for what your doing and I get what you’re saying. But I’ll work through it in my own time and in my own way.”
As he got up to leave, he felt his jacket being tugged back.
“Wait, Keith.” Keith turned to look at the older man with a hint of exasperation. Expecting to be handed the pamphlet, he was surprised when Coran handed him a small card, with his name and number on. “That’s my mobile number. I don’t normally give it out to students… But if you need to talk, you know you can call me any time.”
Somewhere deep down, Keith was touched. Most shrinks he’d been to could hardly wait for him to leave the room and kept a keen eye on the clock. Coran wasn’t bad at his job. Far from it. For one, he actually cared about the students. But Keith somehow doubted that Coran could help him. There was too much shit to sort through, and he’d rather look forward than look back.