Chapter Text
Chapter Two
Keith grabs his school bag and leaves the house as quickly as possible, and ends up reaching the stop for his bus to school at least half an hour early. He hasn’t eaten any breakfast and his stomach grumbles sadly as he takes his seat at the back of the bus. He doesn’t speak to anyone, and gently rubs his arms where he’s sure he’ll have bruises, and he hasn’t yet had chance to inspect his face for a red handprint. He’s not sure yet how he’s going to explain them to the teachers but he’s always thought of something before. Telling them he fell down the stairs only works so many times.
At school, Keith’s teacher announces the class will be reading Matilda by Roald Dahl together. This immediately brightens Keith’s mood, he loves Roald Dahl and he has been surreptitiously building a collection of the books under his bed. His father has never been much of a reader and doesn’t understand Keith’s fascination, but for Keith, escaping into a fantasy world is pretty much all he’s ever wanted.
During breaktime, Keith and his friends all try to imitate Matilda’s magical telekinesis, to no avail. They manage to kill a good twenty minutes by frowning very hard at pencils, trying to make them float, and his best friend Lance even goes as far as flinging his arms out in a dramatic fashion, as if it would somehow invite the ability.
He goes home in a good mood. He enters the house through the back door into the kitchen, and starts to make himself a sandwich. Just to amuse himself, he tries to make the bread butter itself, his mind still on the class book. He leans down on his arms on the kitchen table and stares, but the knife remains stubbornly lying on the wooden chopping board in front of him.
“What are you doing?”
Keith jumps up, instinctively grabbing the knife he was staring at and then abruptly slamming it back down on the table when he whirls round and sees his father standing in the doorway to the hall. His face and arms start aching ever so slightly.
“Uh,” Keith says intelligently, “Just ... making a sandwich.” His father raises an eyebrow at this.
“You were staring at that knife like it held the world’s secrets.”
“Well, I was trying to decide the best way to butter the bread. It ... needed thought.”
“You’re such a fucking weird little boy.”
Keith stares at his father upon hearing the swear word, it’s the first time he’s heard an adult swear. His father continues, “Are you going to finish making your sandwich, then?” but at this point being in the same room as the man was starting to make his head hurt along with everything else so he shakes his head and puts the food away as quickly as possible. He goes to grab his bag so he can head upstairs but as he picks it up, a dog-eared copy of Matilda falls out of the front and hits the kitchen floor with a smack. Keith scrambles to pick it up as soon as he can but it’s too late, his father has seen it. He regards the cover and his face falls into a sneer.
“So, this is what they’re making you read?”
Keith can feel his face going red, his father is almost definitely not going to approve of the reading material and he can’t bear the thought of him ridiculing what is turning out to be one of his favourites.
He abandons the book and runs upstairs, hoping his father won't follow him. Mercifully he doesn't. Keith hovers on the stairs, listening, and sighs in relief when his father merely drops the book back on the kitchen table, grumbles to himself and goes into the living room to switch the television on.
The first time his bedroom door opens by itself, just as Keith is reaching for the doorknob, he puts it down to the wind blowing and coincidence. But then, not even five minutes later, he reaches down to pick up his socks off the floor and they fly into his hand. He immediately drops them again in shock. Very slowly, he reaches his hand out towards the ground and again, the socks jump up into his hand and he just stares at them in amazement.
Silent and invisible as ever, Shiro is desperately hoping that this little boy will realise he is there, and trying to help. He has an overwhelming urge to become the boy’s guardian angel and he will do anything to make him happy. Picking up some socks is the least he can do. He goes over to the bed and straightens the blankets, lifting the pillow slightly and dropping it again to fluff it up.
Keith’s mind is racing. He spins around as he sees his own bed apparently making itself and slowly approaches it, sitting down on the edge of the mattress and smoothing his hands across the fabric in awe.
His head snaps up, looking around the room. He goes to his wardrobe, throwing open the doors and slowly reaching his hand out towards a random shirt. It jumps off the rail and into his hand. He laughs, suddenly, loudly, and puts it back. He turns and points at the light switch on the wall next to his door. Nothing happens for a fraction of a second and he thinks he’s pushed his luck but then, the switch flips off and back on again.
He stands in his room, laughing.
“I can do magic!”
This is not quite what Shiro had in mind. The next day he had followed Keith to school and willingly indulged the boy when he showed off his new-found “powers” to his classmates. He had spent the day floating pencils, making books leap into Keith’s hands and nudging footballs across the playground at Keith’s instruction. Shiro had wanted him to be happy and this had certainly done the trick but he had hoped their relationship wouldn’t end up being quite so one-sided.
Still, now that the ball was rolling it would be unimaginably cruel to suddenly take the powers away again so he stays vigilant, keeping an eye on Keith, and playing along with their little game. There are occasions where he doesn’t quite understand what Keith is trying to do, and guesses. When he guesses right, he is rewarded with Keith’s satisfied grin, and when he guesses wrong, Keith just laughs in delighted surprise. Just seeing him so proud and content is enough for Shiro to persevere.