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Sometimes Keith thinks he can hear Shiro cry. Which of course is total nonsense—he is Shiro. He doesn’ cry. He cracks jokes even when he is injured, he keeps a cool head even when things go really, really to Hell. So the first time the muffled sobs come drifting to Keith in his room at night, he thinks that he must be imagining things.
Could be an animal. Could be the machinery. Could be laughter mistaken for crying (it happens, right?). Maybe it’s an entirely different sound, distorted by its travels through the ventilation system.
But then it happens again. And again. Keith huddles up under the sheets and tries to ignore it. If it really is Shiro, he probably doesn’t want anyone to see him like this anyway. He is proud that way—or at least too acutely embarrassed to admit weaknesses. Keith can relate to that.
He starts to watch him more intently, looks out for any sign or indication that tells him Shiro is falling apart. But Shiro acts like he always does; kind-hearted, level-headed, courageous. His appearance is spotless, he sticks to his strict workout routine. He is, by all means, functioning. Maybe that is why no one else seems to notice. Maybe Shiro is fine, after all. Or maybe he just exceeds at wearing a mask.
Keith finds it harder to sleep at night. It begins to show in the dark circles around his eyes, the way his mind drifts when he trains. Shiro of all people asks him if he is alright, if they should be worried. Keith wants to grab him by the shoulder and shakes him until he comes to he senses, but he only says “I’m fine”, and Shiro drops the matter, at least for now.
The crying doesn’t stop. The helpless sobs, the whimpering. They sound like Shiro is in pain, but it’s not a pain that can be healed by Altean science. That much is for certain. And again, Keith can relate. He is part monster. He knows what it is like to be in pain.
At first he wonders why he can hear Shiro so clearly, surely the Altean builders should have considered such things as privacy? But maybe things work differently around here, and one time as he sees Shiro disappear in his room he spots the bed, and realises that Keith’s is at the exact other side of the wall.
Then one night, Shiro screams. A desperate yell, not loud enough to be heard elsewhere but certainly loud enough to be heard through a wall, to wake Keith from his own sleep.
“No! No! Help! No!”
Shiro shifts in his bed, restlessly, bumps into the wall without waking up. His cries are desperate, tiny, like they’re coming from a child. “Please, no!”
Keith is already half out of the door. He doesn’t care about Shiro’s pride or his godamn saviour-complex. This is too much. He can’t take it any longer.
He enters the combination to Shiro’s room and the door slides open with a swoosh-sound. A small light flickers up near the door, bathing the room in soft gold tones. Keith hardly pays any attention. He only cares about the figure on the bed, the shivering, twisted heap on the mattress.
“No, please…” Shiro croaks against the sheets. The tears are audible in his voice.
Keith draws closer, suddenly unsure about what he should do. Wake him? Let him know that one of his team members saw him like this? Or should he leave and hope Shiro wakes soon?
But then Shiro lets out a horrifying, unhuman wail, and that settles it. Within a heartbeat Keith is at his side, grabs his shoulder through layers of bedding and fabric.
“Shiro”, he says. “Wake up. You’re dreaming.”
But the figure doesn’t seem to hear. “I can’t …” His voice breaks. “Please don’t make me …”
“Shiro”, Keith says again, his tone more urgent, his grip slightly harder. “Wake up!”
Suddenly the figure goes very still. For a moment it seems frozen in time, then Shiro slumps to the bed. Carefully Keith pulls away the blanket and exposes Shiro’s face. He is glancing up from a pale face and reddened eyes, his cheeks are wet, his hair sticks to his forehead in a sweaty mess. Then Keith realises his teeth are clattering. He doesn’t think he has ever seen someone so afraid.
“Hey, it’s just me.” He tries to sound reassuring. “You were dreaming.”
Shiro looks at him sceptically, like he is not entirely convinced he has truly woken up. “What are you doing here”, he whispers.
Well, not what he was expecting to hear. Keith tries to not be offended.
“I heard you scream”, he replies dutifully. “My room is next to yours, remember?”
Shiro seems to consider this for a moment. “You never come”, he says and Keith isn’t entirely sure he is talking about waking him from a nightmare.
Keith tries a smile. “First for everything, right?”
Shiro nods half-heartedly. His teeth have stopped clattering, but he is still shivering like someone exiled in Antartica naked.
“Sorry I woke you”, Shiro manages. He sits up, steadies himself on shaking arms, runs his artificial hand through his hair.
“Oh, fuck that”, Keith replies. Shiro glances up sharply, probably because Keith cussed and Shiro doesn’t like that. They’re better than this, he usually reprimands him. We are the pilots of the lions. We need to be an example.
Shiro tries a smile then, because that’s what he always does. Put on a brave face, smile, don’t let anybody know just how messed up he is on the inside. They all forget just how young Shiro is. He has slipped into the role of their leader as if he was born to do it, and they’ve all accepted it and followed him ever since. And why wouldn’t they, they couldn’t ask for a better leader. But maybe that’s the problem—Shiro is their Captain. He is indestructible. Except he isn’t.
He is so very young, not much older than Keith, actually. He has spent years in prison in a hostile world. He was forced to literally fight for his life over and over again. He has told them some of it, but Keith is fairly certain that he has only heard the filtered down version. God knows what the Galra put him through. Keith isn’t sure he could bear the whole truth.
But he looks so young now, as young as he is. He sits slouched, and he is still shivering just a bit, and he won’t meet Keith’s eyes. He seems both comforted and embarrassed by Keith’s presence. He doesn’t want to be seen like this, but he is glad he is not alone.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Keith shrugs nonchalantly.
“About what?”
Keith rolls his eyes so hard he is afraid they’ll stay backwards permanently. “The screaming? The crying?”
“You heard that too, huh?” He has never sounded so defeated.
“Yeah, I did.” Keith shoves his hands into the pockets of his trousers, then takes two steps towards the bed and awkwardly sits down next to his friend. He likes Shiro—more than he dares to admit. He has dreamed of a moment like this—middle of the night, him in this room, planted on the bed. But not like this. Never like this.
Shiro presses his eyes shut and looks away. His shoulders start to shake, but this time it’s not from fear. “I’m trying, Keith, I really am.” Helpless. Small. Not words Keith would associate with their leader, but in this moments, none other come to mind.
“I know. We all know.” He wants to wrap Shiro in a hug, pull him close and let him cry it out until these broad shoulders stop trembling. Instead, he extends a hand and gently places it on one arm. He feels Shiro flinch, but Keith doesn’t pull away.
“It’s just …” Shiro begins, then his voice trails off. He takes a deep breath, pushes forward. “In my dreams I’m back at that place, and I’m all alone and sometimes I remember…” He knocks against his robotic arm. “Well, you know.”
“Well, fuck.” Really, what else is there to say? There are no words to make this better, not really. Except maybe … “Would it help if I stayed?”
His friend’s eyes go big and for a moment his seems to forget whatever hell his mind just put him through. “What?”
“Would it help if I stayed.” Keith pronounces every word deliberately. “Here. In your room. Maybe even your bed. Would it help.”
Shiro opens his mouth quickly to turn the offer down. Except no sounds make it out. He tries again, and it’s like Keith can almost see the words at the tip of his tongue, but Shiro cannot bring himself to say “No”. What he says instead, at last, is “I don’t know.”
“Well, then.” Keith lifts his legs on the bed and stretches out on the mattress. He doesn’t think he will be cold – how could he, lying next to Shiro? He makes sure to leave enough space for his friend, so Shiro doesn’t need to be afraid of unwarranted touching or the like.
For a long moment, Shiro just looks back over his shoulder, studying Keith. Maybe he thinks that Keith will get up any second, realise just how stupid this is. But eventually he lowers himself next to Keith, about am arm’s length of distance between them.
“Do you need a blanket?” he asks.
“Nah, I’ll be fine.”
“Alright.” Then, after a long, long moment. “Thank you.”
They keep the light on, very dimmed, and Keith stares at the ceiling, listening for Shiro’s breaths. When they finally even out, he too allows himself to go to sleep.
Shiro has no more nightmares that night.
--The End--