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Keith was a light sleeper, always had been. Even before his dad left, before the foster system got their hands on him, he’d wake up in the middle of the night to the whisper of the wind in the sand. He swore he could hear the reptiles scuttling around in the night when he was a kid, and now, he listened for footsteps.
They all sounded different. Pidge’s were light and hurried, Hunk’s were heavy and deliberate, Lance’s varied from lazy to bouncing, depending on the time.
He never heard Shiro’s footsteps. Keith wasn’t naive enough to think that Shiro didn’t get up and walk around in the middle of the night; he saw the signs of Shiro’s occupation of the training room in the morning, but he never heard the footsteps. Shiro had spent too much time learning to be quiet.
He heard the nightmares, sometimes, when they got too out of hand, but Shiro always stifled his cries quickly. Keith heard all of their nightmares. They’d been dealing with them for long enough that Keith trusted they knew what was best for themselves.
It was a quiet night. At first, Keith couldn’t pinpoint what had woken him up. His ears first searched for footsteps, only hearing the brush of his own breath on the pillow. No movement in the hallway, not that he could hear.
The air was still and untouched, cool in his lungs. He kept his eyes closed and furrowed his brows.
The hum of the engines, his own heartbeat, and… rain?
No, not rain. He blinked his eyes open to the dark blue of Altean night. Not rain. Someone was in the shower. Keith’s own footsteps were silent, bare feet pressing into the cold metal hallways. He shook the sleep from his head as he reached their shared bathroom.
He was about to announce his entrance when his ears stopped him.
It wasn’t just the shower. The splash of water on the floor, on the wall, on skin and…
Breathing. Not the quiet hum of someone having a pleasant midnight shower. They were choking, stuttering, coughing on their own lungs. It was uneven but felt like effort.
The doors in front of him opened, and instead of the steam that he usually saw when someone was showering, the bathroom was cold and dark. The shower was so loud, now that there was nothing but a curtain between him and the sound.
He heard someone cough and shift when he ordered the lights up.
“Are you okay?” he said, thinking it was probably a good thing to say. People said that all the time.
The fact that it was Shiro who responded didn’t surprise Keith in the slightest. “I’m okay Keith, go to bed.”
The crack in Shiro’s voice, on the other hand, was unexpected. His voice sounded raw. Keith chewed on his lip.
“Why were the lights off?” he said, instead of anything good.
Shiro tried to hide his sob with a cough. It was almost hidden by the sound of the shower, but not quite. Keith’s hand immediately went to the curtain between him and Shiro.
“I’m coming in,” he said, and before Shiro had a chance to respond, Keith flung it open. His eyes first scanned eyes level, but finding nothing, he looked down.
Shiro’s sleep clothes stuck to his skin. Keith could see the lines of his scars through the soaking fabric on his back. Shiro held his head between his knees. Keith was finally right there, and he could hear it all, the water slipping down the drain, beating into Shiro’s back, dripping off his face. Keith suspected that if the shower wasn’t hiding them, he’d be able to pick out long red tear tracks. He could hear Shiro try to balance his breathing and pretend to be okay.
He shook his head and wrapped his arms around his legs, still hiding his face.
Keith didn’t hesitate to join him in the cold spray.
Without asking, without waiting, without worrying that he was doing the wrong thing, Keith kneeled next to Shiro and pulled him in to his chest. Shiro fought it for a second, something about being okay and don’t worry, but Keith didn’t let go. Judging by the way Shiro shook and grasped back at Keith’s arms, Shiro didn’t want to be let go at the moment.
Shiro whimpered and turned into Keith’s neck, letting his legs fall on top of Keith.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured over and over again. Keith brought a hand up to pull Shiro’s hair back away from his face. The water fought him, trying to pull his bangs back down, but Keith wouldn’t let Shiro hide. Shiro’s eyes stayed closed, water trickling down his lips.
“Don’t be sorry.”
Shiro shook his head. “I’m supposed to be a leader.” He bit his lip before speaking again. “I’m not supposed to need anything.”
“Shut up.”
Shiro’s eyes snapped open. “Keith—“
“No, you’re not allowed to close down. You know I’m always gong to help you, whatever it takes, whenever you need me.”
Shiro searched his face for the deceit that life had taught him to expect. His voice was so much younger than it usually was.
“You sure?”
Keith watched Shiro’s face as he looked up. Behind the water streaming down both their faces, plastering their clothes and hair to their skin, Keith could see the emotions flicker between hope and fear, hope and fear.
Keith leaned down, letting his forehead rest on Shiro’s. The cold water flowed between them. Keith closed his eyes and knew Shiro did the same. Keith smiled, remembering those nights in the desert, the whisper of the wind in the sand.
He remembered his dad’s voice, singing him back to sleep, drowning out everything else. He felt Shiro tremble in his arms.
“When you’re down, and troubled…”
Keith’s voice was quiet, unpracticed, barely loud enough to hear over the roar of the shower, but he kept singing. Note by note, syllable by syllable, he reminded Shiro what it was like to be loved.
“…close your eyes and think of me, and soon I will be there, to brighten up even your darkest night…”
The sound of the water faded away. Shiro didn’t need it, not anymore. All he heard was Keith’s voice and that was so much more than enough.