Work Text:
Keith hiccupped, hot tears falling down his face as he sat on his bed, sobs wracking his body. His emotions were everywhere in a disoriented frenzy and tugged him from left to right, his breathes matching so by coming out in huffs. He held the razor blade with a shaky hand, bringing it to his upper arm and feeling a rush of anxiety in his chest, the rush he always got before he did this.
He choked down a cry and took a deep breathes in, trying to tame the anxious swirl so he could do the thing that always makes him feel calm, even though he knows he should stop now. Slowly, he pressed the cold metal down, biting down a whimper like a hurt animal as he dragged it along his skin. His skin seared for a moment before it would leave a pleasant feeling like mint that soothed him.
Once he finished dragging that one, he felt the storm of emotions start to settle, turning into a quiet, numbing sensation that made him feel calm. A few tears trickled down his face before he felt warm and sighed in relief. He looked at his arm and watched as the blood dripped from the top to the underside of his arm, catching onto the clothe he put beneath it. Then he paid attention to the cut itself and looked at where his skin parted, seeing the white in-between the gash. The wound was littered next to all the other scars, and he didn’t know to feel ashamed or proud.
But this wasn’t enough.
With a now steadier hand, he brought his razor blade up and repeated the process a few more times on his upper arm until eight white cuts too place where the metal was and he felt calm. He didn’t want to overdo it and eight felt like enough for him, besides, he didn’t want to waste more bandages.
Wiping his watery eyes with his freeze sleeve, he sniffled and twisted to his side, grabbing some cleaning supplies from his nightstand. Usually, he wouldn’t bother cleaning up and would slap toilet paper on and call it good, but he didn’t want to get sick and worry Shiro... Not that he understands why Shiro cares about him.
The teacher adopted him a few months ago and things have been going so good. He’s never felt this... safe and at home? It felt weird and unfamiliar, but it almost brought a smile to his face when he thought about movie snuggles or biking with Shiro.
But then he looks at his bloody arm and frowns.
Even with whatever Shiro does for him, it doesn’t seem to quell whatever's fundamentally wrong with him.
A bad feeling buzzed in his stomach that left him heavy, making his eyes droop as his thoughts began to float. Maybe Shiro would see what’s wrong with him eventually and send him back to the garrisons when he realized he wasn’t worth the trouble.
He gave himself another cut before he put on Neosporin and bandages.
Sighing, he flopped onto the bed, ignoring how blood seeped through the tiny hole on the bandage and wet his shirt. His dark bedroom felt colder, the darkness felt more enclosing and the memories he decorated with smiles and Shiro seemed to fade into another atmosphere that his mind brought him too. The sting on his arms were a constant as he grabbed a white pillow and cuddled it, going into fetal position.
He just squeezed his eyes shut and tried to keep the voices and feelings quiet. He sniffled and held onto the pillow with his hands that Shiro’s dwarfed and he clung on for dear life. A shaky gasp came from him before he continued crying quietly into the pillow, trying to muffle himself as to not wake Shiro.
The tears didn’t seem to stop, along with the sting of pain on his arm as he lolled himself into a quiet, somber sleep.
Maybe things would be different the next day.
---
His mind was a quiet darkness, his body heavy and nothing existing. Nothing existing besides a familiar, low hum of a Japanese lullaby that perked his ears up. It was warm and something he grew used to and found comfort in.
As his mind stirred from the darkness behind his eyelids, he felt a warm hand on his back that rubbed up and down, accompanying the lullaby. He relaxed more at the hand and humming, breathing softly as his mind became more aware.
Yawning, his eyelids fluttered open, and he felt the soft pillow against his cheek and his crusty tears. The light briefly flashed his eyes before they slowly started to adjust and then a recognizable figure was in front of him.
“Hey, bud...” Shiro whispered quietly, stopping his humming. His hand was still rubbing up and down Keith’s back, a constant warm sensation that made the anxiety he felt the previous night dwindle.
Quietly, he whispered back, “Hi...” His voice a little rough but still a bit high on account of being twelve. He nuzzled into the pillow and resisted falling back asleep. Shiro had been waking him up by humming and rubbing his back since he got here and found that Keith got anxious and angry when he was woken up in a traditional way like being shaken awake. So, Shiro always found a gentler way to wake him up.
Smiling softly, Shiro leaned over and kissed the top of his head before ruffling his hair. “Time to wake up, buddy...” He told calmly, no rush or urgency in his voice, just a light firmness that meant there was no wiggle room.
At first, he wanted to protest but he cut it as a small whine before sitting up and yawning again, rubbing his eyes. He felt his upper arms ache, and he tried not to wince when he felt the motion stretch his cuts back open. His black shirt covered them, but just barely and it set his peaceful morning on edge. He tensed a bit and stiffened but hoped Shiro wouldn’t notice.
Shiro’s eyes trailed where Keith glanced but didn’t see anything off, but that didn’t mean nothing was wrong. Rubbing his head and brushing his locks, he asked concernedly, “You okay? You seem anxious...” His observation was direct and to the point, but considerate, as Shiro usually was. Gentle but never afraid to express his concerns.
He felt a small flood of shame and gave a timid nod, using his non-injured arm to rub his other forearm up and down. “Yeah... Just got anxious...” He replied meekly. Shiro would probably find it more suspicious if he said everything was fine.
His adoptive brother frowned and looked around Keith for anything visibly wrong but saw nothing. “Was it something particular or just anxiety, bud...?” He questioned, reaching out to hold Keith’s hands and rubbing his fingers over his in a familial way that made Keith feel small.
Mumbling, he lied, “Just anxiety...” Hoping the other would drop it.
Shiro starred at him, making Keith tense before he reluctantly said, “Alright, but I’m always here, okay? You matter,” Before pulling him into a hug. The hugs were a recentish thing.
The safety of the hug made the shame either want to tug up or down, his mind couldn’t tell yet, but it was always bad at telling what it wanted, before he hugged back. He put his arms around Shiro’s shoulders and face in his neck like a little kid being held and he nodded.
After a few moments, Shiro untangled himself before smiling, “C’mon-- we don’t want to hold up breakfast. I’m making Eggos,” He grinned. Eggos were a staple when your caregiver sucks at cooking.
That pulled a small laugh from Keith, and he decided to poke at him, “Am I the twelve-year-old or you?” He kicked his legs off the side of the bed as Shiro stood with a scoff.
He flicked Keith’s head and Keith’s hands flew up at the place and whined. “Quiet, you’re too small to have this much attitude,” Shiro chided but felt his heart tug when Keith looked up at him with a pouty glare. He ruffled his hair fondly, “Stop that pouting, kiddo. I’ll start feeling bad,” He teased.
Keith scoffed and smacked his hand away, wincing again which Shiro took note of, but Keith abruptly said, “I’m hungry! Can you move your butt?” And raising his feet to push Shiro’s legs. Hopefully that would deter his questioning.
For a moment, Shiro seemed to hesitate before nodding, still looking at him questioningly before mumbling, “Alright...” Then walked out of the bedroom. “Come out when you’re changed!” He called out as his footsteps faded down the hall.
He waited until Shiro was gone before sighing, slumping in relief. The pain in his arm felt worst, like his body had the night to process it, before he got up and closed his door. Stretching his free arm, he went up and down on the heels of his feet before tugging his shirt off.
The material brushed against the bandages, and he bit his lip before it was off and in the hamper. His eyes drifted to the damp Band-Aids, one hanging off and the other crinkled with dried blood on the outside of them. A sprout of anxiety came out when he realized how close he could have been to getting caught if his sleeves weren’t so baggy... He needs to be more careful next time.
Getting on his knees, he reached under his bed for a plastic bag that had reminiscence of old paper towels before he tossed it on his bed. He sat down and opened his second nightstand drawer and pulled out some hydrogen peroxide and papers towels and wetted it, then removed his old band-aids and threw them into the plastic bag. He winced as they peeled off and started dabbing the cuts, seeing them still gaped wide open and white.
The process wasn’t pleasant, but he kind of liked it. It felt grounding... and he felt like he deserved it. It was like smoking, well he thinks it’d be, his old fosters parents smoked whenever they were stressed.
After he was done, he threw the bloody paper towel bag under his bed and slapped on more Band-Aids from his nightstand. The cuts didn’t bleed anymore, which was nice. It always felt inconvenient when that happened.
Walking to his closet, he looked at all the clothes Shiro insisted on buying. There were so many, and it made him look down at the ground with a feeling clutch his chest. Shiro shouldn’t spend so much money for a bad kid like him...
He frowned and grabbed a light purple shirt with a cartoon hippo print. He remembered when Shiro bought it, and he blushed in embarrassment because it felt kind of childish, which Shiro reminded him he was a child and Keith was grumpy the rest of the day. But he definitely loved that shirt a lot...
It didn't take long before he was dressed and walking out to the kitchen. He didn’t bother changing his plaid pants. He rubbed his eyes as he padded down the hallway.
Shiro heard familiar little patters and turned with smile, holding two plates of Eggo waffles and sitting down in the wooden chair. “Hey, kiddo! Breakfast is served!” He announced; he sounded proud, as if he made the waffles.
Keith walked over and sat in the chair, feeling a little string of emotions as he did. “You don’t have to make me breakfast... I could myself...” He said quietly. He knew Shiro was his brother now, but he felt bad... He didn’t want to burden him.
But he got waved off and Shiro took spoke in a firm tone, “Keith, I’m your parent, or brother, or whatever you feel is right—I'm gonna make you breakfast, Bud. No ifs, ands, or buts.” The smell of the waffles wafted to Keith’s nose; they smelt eggy and buttery.
He still felt a little bad, but arguing would make it worse so he just mumbled, “Okay...” Before grabbing his silverware and cutting into the waffles, they smelt of butter and slight freezer burn but it made Keith’s stomach rumble, nonetheless.
Shiro nodded in approval before digging into his own large stack. To supply his muscles or whatever loser-y thing he said.
They ate in relative silence, the atmosphere quiet and comfortable with some morning light shedding through the window. They both preferred quiet mornings or light conversations; sometimes talking felt bleh.
However, Keith didn’t notice Shiro’s eyes drifting to his arm as he dug as his own eyes fixated on his plate until he spoke up.
“Did you hurt yourself?” He spoke up in worry, his eyebrows furrowed.
Keith froze mid bite.
He looked at his forearm and sure enough, one of the eight Band-Aids rode up. He swallowed and set his silverware down, his hands becoming a bit shaky, but he tried to seem unbothered. “Uhm, yeah. Accidently scraped my arm at school...” He avoided eye contact.
Shiro sighed and said sternly, “Keith, you’re a horrible liar—Did you get into another fight?” He questioned, leaning over and reaching his hand across the table. Keith was about to lean back but the back of the chair stopped him and Shiro rode his sleeve up. A gasp came from Shiro and Keith looked down, “Oh my god, Keith—what happened?!” He exclaimed and got up, going around the table and kneeling, looking at the Band-Aids.
His lips wobbled, “I’m sorry...” He said weakly, trying to tug his sleeve down but Shiro stopped him, holding his arm gently.
‘No no no--’
“What happened? What did you do?” He held Keith by the side of his arms and looked at him, the only thing in his eyes being confusion and sadness.
A choking feeling went in his throat and his chin curled before a quiet sob came out, “I don’t know, I’m sorry--” He whimpered out.
A scared sigh came from the other before he wrapped Keith up in a hug, “Oh Keith... Why would you...” He took a deep inhale, trying to reign in his emotions, “We’ll talk about it later—I'm gonna look at the cuts, ‘kay, buddy?” He looked down at him, and Keith saw his eyes were teary and that made him feel cared for but then that made him feel guilty.
All he could do was sniffle and nod, looking down and holding tightly onto Shiro. Then he felt Shiro pick him up and carry him to the bathroom. He put his face in Shiro’s neck and tried to smell the laundry detergent from him instead of spiral into distress.
What would happen now? Would Shiro not want him anymore? Would he see he’s a bad kid and send him back?
The anxiety swirled in his tummy until they got to the bathroom, Shiro carefully setting him down on the toilet seat. He hiccupped and wiped his eyes again as he watched Shiro take out Band-Aids, cotton swabs, Neosporin, and butterfly strips.
Shiro turned around, taking a deep breath to remain calm. Keith didn’t need him to panic right now... He bent down and took his child’s arm, “I’m gonna lift the Band-Aids, okay bud?” He looked up at Keith for acknowledgment.
With a wobbly lip, Keith nodded and looked away, feeling as Shiro peeled the first band-aid up. He tensed as he felt a paused and an almost gasp that was covered up with Shiro clearing his throat.
Shakily, the teacher responded, “Okay... It’s going to be okay, sweetie...” He whispered and Keith sniffled and nodded. Shiro peeled off the rest of the band-aids and Keith dared to glance over and saw the most heartbroken look in his eyes. His stomach twisted because he wasn’t sure if he’s ever seen Shiro this sad before.
Wordlessly, Shiro started cleaning him up. He used soap and water, making Keith hiss and Shiro mumbled, “I know, I know.... shhhh...” And held his other hand before applying Neosporin on the sides of the wound and butterfly strips to close the gap.
The whole thing made Keith feel small. Like all the walls he built around adults and caregivers was being peeled away with the Band-Aids and all he found himself wanting was to be held and his forehead to be kissed like what his dad did when he tripped.
Once Shiro was done, Keith hung his head low. Hesitantly he reached his arms up for Shiro in a silent question. He just needed to be held right now; he didn’t want to be independent anymore. More tears went down his face.
Shiro’s face softened and he hooked his arms under Keith’s armpits before lifting him up. Keith instantly melted into it and placed his chin on Shiro's shoulder as Shiro support his back and legs. He missed this, he missed being held like he was little.
He cupped the back of Keith’s head and ran a hand through his hair, “Shhhh... I’m here, Keith... we’re going to figure it out together... But no more of this, you really scared me, buddy...” He spoke against his hair and let out a shuttering breathe, holding Keith close. God...
Guilt swirled in his chest, and he nodded shamefully. “I’m sorry, Shiro...” He said sincerely, trying to will his tears away.
The other shook his head and bounced him a bit, “Keith, don’t apologize...” He pulled back a bit to look his little brother in the eyes, his own shiny and fearful, “I just don’t know what I’d do if something bad happened or if you went too far... You’re my brother, I love you...”
Keith’s eyes widened and he wiped a tear away, “You do...?” He asked. The hope of a child was glimmering in his eyes as he looked up at his brother.
Shiro let out a quiet laugh and ruffled his hair, “Yeah, of course I do... You matter a lot to me, Keith...” Then he tucked him close again.
He allowed himself to sink into the feeling, the feeling of being held and cared for. It made his heart warm and the sting on his upper arm go a bit quieter. He couldn’t surprise a hiccup as he buried his face in Shiro’s shoulder, the years of longing for a family catching up to him.
“We’re going to get you a therapist and you’re going to give me any sharps you have, alright?” There was no room for disagreement in his voice, but it still remained gentle like a weighted blanket.
The idea of therapy made a few anxious thoughts pop into his mind. He’s been to counseling at school and the boys’ home before and it always sucked; people either not believing him or being dismissive when he actually opened up.
Shiro took note of the silence and reassured him, “We’ll find a really good therapist, and you can always switch. You’re in control, Keith,” The idea that he had control over the situation was more comforting at least.
He gave a nod and then felt Shiro kiss his forehead. More tears welled into his eyes, and he held on tighter. He didn’t even realize he started to sob again until Shiro spoke up.
Giving an ‘awwe’, “Awwe, don’t cry, you’re okay...” He patted his back as Keith sobbed, clutching onto him tightly like a small child. “You’re going to be okay, Keith...” He whispered while rocking him.
They stayed like that until Keith got tired, wearing himself out. His eyes got heavy, and he felt his body feel like it was held down by stones as the emotional drainage from crying and all the emotions he went through in kick in.
Quietly, Shiro carried them to Keith’s bedroom and put Keith down, untangling the pre-teen's arms from his neck which Keith gave a noise of protest to. Smiling, Shiro smoothed his hair out and said, “You’re dramatic,” With a little tease in his voice, trying to make things calmer.
Shiro was scared out of his mind, but he knew that he had to ground himself. For Keith’s sake. Things were going to be okay...
A small, sad frown went across Keith’s face as he looked up at Shiro, “I don’t want to be alone...” He expressed, looking up at Shiro smally.
Shiro’s face melted, and he didn’t hesitate to sit down on the edge of the bed and run a hand through Keith’s hair. “I’ll stay then... We’ll talk after your nap, okay?” He whispered, patting Keith’s cheek.
The younger nodded and brought the blanket over him, his eye lids getting heavier and heavier. The hand in his heart brought a feeling of warmth that matched the soft blanket and made him sink further into the sheet. “Okay...” He responded quietly back.
He felt Shiro lean over and kiss his forehead, which he let a little sigh out at. Soothingly, he murmured against his hair, “Sleep well, bud...” As his thumb stroked one of Keith’s locks.
Feeling all the things weighing on him start to slowly fade away into the background, he let his body rest. He went limp and basked in the safety that Shiro brought and hope for things to get better...
The sound of Keith’s even breathes were the only sound filling the room and Shiro smiled. He was worried about his little brother, but now that he knew what was wrong, they could work on it from there.
Things were going to be okay...
“Lo’e you to’o, Shiro...” He heard a little voice say half-asleep.
His eyes widened in surprise, but he couldn’t stop the fond look that took over his face as he whispered back, “I love you, kiddo...” And watched Keith snuggle into the pillow.
Things were going to be okay...