Chapter Text
“Hey, Keith?”
The words hung in the air for just a moment, the aftermath wavering and tense. Keith sighed, looking away from his screen and setting down his tablet pen. His co-worker was peering at him from over the cubicle wall, biting her lip and everything.
“I know you’re really busy, but Iverson’s been on my ass about this project.” Said co-worker wound a coil of her perfectly wavy brown hair around an index finger, dejected. “Could you help me out? I’ve been barely getting sleep as is.”
Lie.
The words shimmered in front of his eyes in bright orange, phrases fabricated to make the listener sympathize, coo, and nod with an understanding smile.
“Sure.” Keith answered, as bluntly as possible before swiveling back to his monitor. “Just send me the file.”
She sighed in relief. “Thanks Keith, you’re a life-saver.”
“Now I can take off early for my lunch date. Keith’s such a pushover.”
Those words, the little internal ones that she thought no one could hear, were sharp and black. Bolded with the thinly disguised truth. As the notification that an email had appeared in his inbox slid into view, the irritation he had held in his throat had already been swallowed. It sat in his stomach, hard and cynical.
By the time he had double clicked the attachment, he could already hear her getting ready to leave, high heels clicking on the worn linoleum floor.
Little thoughts filtered through, like tiny needles jabbing at Keith’s ears.
“She’s on lunch break already? Does she ever have work?”
“God, what a slacker.”
All she had to do was make a form on a spreadsheet.
Keith was done in minutes.
Keith was a mind reader.
Telepathic, if you wanted to get fancy about it.
There wasn’t a time he remembered that he didn’t have it. He spent his sixth year of life on earth exposing the fractured foundation of his parents’ relationship, when he couldn’t understand the words he heard, why some were colorful and sparkly and others were small, cold and dark. Everything he heard he would parrot, and when he exposed the true nature of his father’s long nights at work, his mother naturally walked out, leaving him behind with his father.
“I don’t know how you do it.” He had said to Keith. “But keep your fucking mouth shut.”
It wasn’t an impossible task for Keith. He was young, but he began to understand he heard what others couldn’t, things that he shouldn’t be able to know. So he withdrew, kept to himself, and observed.
Everyone lies. It’s just to what degree they did it. Some people constantly lied to others, while others lied to themselves. The world to Keith was a walking contradiction of neon bright, spoken word and then the callous, little black words that should be reserved to the minds of their thinkers.
By some accident, some mysterious force of the universe, Keith could see and hear them all. There was no point in him trying to figure out why, and so he spent more of his time trying to avoid it all together.
He spent his time speaking minimally to others, and stuck closer to those that he knew at least strove to be honest to others and themselves. The distant father was rarely an issue for him, as he heard plenty enough without hearing actual sounds from his lips. Keith graduated high school, promptly left his childhood home, and finished college without incident.
Now, at twenty-two, he slung his beat-up messenger bag over his shoulder, shuffling out of the office unnoticed. Keith worked at a graphic design company that focused on advertisements located in the San Francisco Bay, where the rent was so high, the thought of endsmeet on his salary frequently made him choke on blood.
Still, he was fresh out of university and the company’s owner had her eye on him, mostly for his get-it-done attitude and his impervious nature to overtime and late nights. He often thought that this was a habit he had formed when he was young and unable to wade through the sea of words, when the outside world overwhelmed him with unfiltered thoughts. He preferred the quiet companionship of the internet and the undisturbed moments just before dawn, when everyone else was asleep.
It was in his middle school year that Keith found he could shut the thoughts out. Only if he really tried. The black words, like permanent trails of ants dotting his vision suddenly ceased, and he was shocked by the deafening silence. Then, he could only do it for a couple seconds or so before it completely exhausted him. Now, he could manage to dampen the noise to just those in his nearest vicinity, something that made the west coast city by the water just a bit more bearable.
Keith never told anyone about his ability. He took his father’s advice to heart and was tight-lipped about his inclination to eavesdrop on the minds of others.
“But that’s fucking awesome.” His college roommate and long time friend Pidge would say if she knew. “It’s like a superhero power.”
Pidge’s words were forest green, dark and simple font. She assumed little of others and herself, and had a knack for saying whatever first came to mind. Keith appreciated that from her, bluntness and all. Besides, tactfulness wasn’t something often attributed to Keith either.
In the end, Superhero he wasn’t. If he had the option, he would trade this so called power away for two cents and some pocket lint.
Though, sometimes, it was useful to him.
Like right now, for instance.
He arrived at the little coffee shop three blocks away, a tiny hole in the wall sort of store that in style as of late, with the weathered exterior and dainty succulents lining the windowsills. Keith opened the front door to a chorus of well trained baristas greeting him, and after scanning the crowd for a moment, he found the face he was looking for.
Scooting past the Silicon Valley entrepreneurs and college students hunched over their laptops, he plopped down at a table where all the wooden chairs were whimsically mismatched. Keith set down his messenger bag, pulled out his phone, and stared directly beside him at his wide-eyed coworker.
Keith wasn’t particularly cruel. He didn’t use his ability to take advantage of others, and most of the information was typically disjointed and irrelevant. The brain was a particularly poor typist and rarely focused on one subject. This afternoon, he felt the right to be a bit petty, so he figured out where his coworker was heading off to for lunch.
He flashed her a brief, smirking smile, and her mouth, which had fallen open, snapped shut, promptly turning back to her date to feign unfamiliarity. Keith got what he wanted from the exchange, and so he pulled out a book and settled in to wait for his sandwich.
The written word was a refuge, an easy place for Keith to ignore the din of thoughts that frequently circled him. If he put his effort into reading the pages of a book, he could easily block out the rest. Keith did though, keep an ear out for the girl serving up food, and wrapped himself in a blissful cocoon of storytelling.
“Excuse me.”
Keith blinked upwards, vaguely annoyed to be interrupted when he had finally buried his nose into a book. Instead of shooting back with his usual, irritated quip, his eyes trained onto a face straight out of a fashion advertisement, clean shaven, chiseled jawline, and strong eyebrows. A thick scar ran across of the man’s face over the bridge of his nose, and a soft forelock of white hair fell on his forehead.
Keith had no idea what to say in response.
“Oh god, he’s beautiful.”
The tiny black words of the man standing before him floated in, and Keith’s face flushed, surprised. Here he was, sitting in the popular new coffee house, wearing his red hoodie that very likely had yesterday night’s mustard stains on it. His hair, which he had sworn he would get around to finding a cheap place to cut, was pulled into a ponytail, smudged reading glasses resting on his nose.
“Sorry. What I mean is…” The stranger fumbled, one hand coming up to pull at his olive green beanie. “I saw you were reading Allura’s new book, and she told me that-”
A small downturn of the mouth appeared on Keith’s face. As gorgeous as the man was standing before him, here he was already attempting to name drop Allura Altea. It was expected, because for some reason the man found him attractive, and the first point of contact would of course be a move to impress. He opened his mouth, ready to make a quick exit, cafe sandwich or no.
“Fuck, now he’s going to think I’m just trying to pretend Allura’s my friend. What am I thinking?”
“Wait.” Suddenly, the stranger looked flustered, but determined. “That came out wrong. Allura Altea’s my roommate-”
Keith’s eyes glazed over. More excuses to get himself out of his mess, yet again, nothing but...
The words before him were in a simple black font. His eyes snapped back towards the man, disbelief overcoming him in waves. He stood in front of Keith’s table, face red with embarrassment as he continued to talk, every letter coming out in the plainest black.
Pidge’s words were a dark, rich green. When she felt particularly insecure, they were sharp and bright, concealing her truest thoughts. The words Lance tended to speak were neon and blue, larger than life. Every once in awhile, when it was needed the most, they took on a navy hue, softened and thinned. Hunk’s wavered between a rich amber and golden sand, his apprehension of vulnerability preventing him from voicing his most unfiltered thoughts.
Never had he seen black.
“-Either way, she’s been worried about how people would receive her newest work. It was different from her usual style, so I thought maybe I would ask what you thought of it.”
The man looked vaguely out of breath, still clutching his take-out cup of coffee, the hesitant smile on his face drooping with every passing second in silence.
“Maybe it’s time to leave, since the ground isn’t going to open up and swallow me whole.”
“Hold on.” Keith said, abruptly standing and scooting around the table. He gestured towards the seat beside him.
His curiosity had gotten the best of him, and he had to know who this faultlessly honest, painfully handsome human being was.
“You can sit down and we can talk about it. I mean, if you have the time.” He tugged nervously at his hoodie, ears growing hot.
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
The brightest grin appeared on his face, dazing Keith as he set his coffee down on the table.
“Yeah… I’d like that.”
His name was Takashi Shirogane, but he preferred to be called Shiro, Keith was told.
They spent Keith’s lunch break together, chatting about Allura Altea’s novels, how she had approached the new one with a concept that was closer and more personal than ever before.
Keith realized that must have been the reason for the change. While her words often shimmered a metallic rose, this time they were a richer, ruddier color.
He then told Shiro that she had nothing to worry about, the book was great, the words still sounded like her. More importantly, he felt he had to watch Shiro closely, to investigate the impossibility that was a human that consistently told the truth.
From the way he sipped his coffee, to the drumming of his fingers against the table when he seemed particularly excited, Keith observed it all. Shiro was black and white, solid. Every word, every phrase he spoke was honest, no brightly colored lights, no cryptically flourished letters. Keith was enraptured.
“Well... I should be heading back to work.” Shiro said after a glance at his phone.
Keith also checked the time, wincing at the clock on the wall. “I should go too.”
They lapsed into silence, the sounds of the cafe overtaking them with clinks of white coffee cups and the rhythmic tap of fingers on the keyboard. Somewhere on the other side, a laugh rang out bright neon pink, exaggerated with the emotion called infatuation.
When he turned back to look at Shiro, he realized that Shiro was gazing at him, expression unreadable. Then he leaned across the table, hovering inches away from Keith’s face. His mind spun, bewildered until he saw Shiro tug his untouched napkin from underneath his empty plate.
Ten numbers formed above Shiro’s head as he pulled a ballpoint pen from his coat pocket. After a moment of scribbling, he slid the napkin back towards Keith.
“That’s um… That’s my number, if you ever want to talk again.” He mumbled sheepishly
Gingerly, Keith took the phone number into his hands, uncomprehending as he stared at it.
“It was fun talking to you.” A crooked grin rested on his face, stabbing Keith straight in the heart. “I’ve never met someone so… refreshingly direct.”
“Me too.” Keith heard himself blurting out, instantly. “The fun part, and the direct part too.”
“Coming from you, I know you really mean it.” Shiro responded in a low murmur.
There again was no pretense, no hidden agenda. The words lay where they fell, simple and black.
Shiro stood, the wooden chair scraping the floor beneath him. “Text me when you’re free then? Maybe I could convince Allura to meet you, help make her feel less uneasy about her newest work.”
“Y-yeah.”
With a wave, he turned to exit the coffee shop, leaving Keith to untangle his thoughts. An unexpected pang of disappointment lodged itself in his chest at Shiro’s departure. It figures, he reassured himself, Shiro was a rare person to meet, one in a million. Maybe even once in a lifetime.
Quickly he added the new number into his phone, finger hovering over the message button before he finally shut his phone off and shoved it into his pocket. Messaging Shiro seconds after he had just stepped out seemed pathetic even for Keith, and so he filed it away for a challenge to tackle that night after work.
Out in the warm sunlight of the mild San Francisco spring, he thought that maybe he had to thank his coworker for her stupid spreadsheet after all.
Under the soft lighting of Keith’s poorly lit living room, the cold, blue glow of his cellphone alerted him of a message. He leaned over to pluck his phone from the coffee table, admittedly his heart beating just a little faster.
[New Message from Shiro]
It wasn’t like Keith was waiting, or anything.
But the messages had become a frequent thing between the two of them since they met, three weeks ago. They hadn’t seen each other since then, being that Shiro was endlessly busy as a founder of a start-up, and Keith wasn’t ready to confess that he had too much time on his hands outside of his job.
It had taken him over a week to get the guts to text Shiro, 3am sleepless nights turned into a routine of staring at his contact page. In the end he had finally given in at the turning of the last page of Allura’s novel. The delight he felt when Shiro replied almost instantly burned a hole through his chest.
[Hey Keith, hope you’ve been doing well today. I have a sudden proposition.]
What did that even mean? Keith smiled a little to himself. Shiro wrote texts like he did his essays in university, he felt sure of.
It struck him that maybe he was becoming just a little bit too attached to the man who, albeit was amazingly attractive, he only spent an afternoon speaking face to face. Even so, the proof was in the inky black words that formed whenever Shiro moved his lips. A security that Keith never before experienced and had no idea he wanted or could even find.
Even still, this wasn’t love.
[Whats up? You know you don’t have to be so formal]
[Sorry, I guess I’m used to sending out too many emails to investors on my phone these days. Force of habit.]
There was the tug of a grin on Keith’s face as he responded.
[No prob. Either way, what were you talking about?]
[I made the mistake of telling Allura that you enjoyed her book. She wants to meet you.]
Keith’s heart left its cavity and crawled up his throat, a paralyzing surprise. He didn’t know what he expected, but he didn’t expect to meet Allura Altea, writer of the stories that were often his sole comfort in the din of life, so incredibly soon.
[Of course, I’ll be there with her, Keith. You have nothing to worry about.]
Right. Okay. Like somehow that was supposed to make anything better.
Keith knew that he was socially awkward. At best. He wasn’t practiced in the art of conversation, the falsehoods spoken too often contradictory and frustrating to endure. Vivid images of making a fool of himself clouded his vision.
But still, he wanted to meet her, and he wanted to see Shiro again.
[Alright, I’ll bite. What are you guys thinking?]
[Friday night, Cotogna’s at 7pm.]
Well, he had no idea what the hell that was, but he’d worry about that later.
[Great! I’m looking forward to seeing you again, Keith.]
Me too, his heart sang out before he clamped it down, shoved it back down into his chest.
Allura Altea, as Keith found out, was almost (if not equally) gorgeous as Shiro. Her silvery hair had been braided into a fishtail and she wore simple, sheer white blouse and maroon pencil skirt, but he could understand what Shiro had mentioned about her before dinner. She sat across him at the dining table, soft candlelight playing against her flawless skin and highlighting her regal features. The way she looked at him, with her ice blue eyes, was elusive. That gaze made the palms of Keith's hands sweat.
It was all baseless rumors, but the word around town was that she descended from nobility of some sort. No one knew exactly what, and why someone as beautiful as her didn't just live out her life on her inheritance and the occasional modeling gig. But her calling it seemed was to write, and being Queen of the New York Times Bestseller list with each new release was more than enough proof of her expertise.
"You're Keith, right?" Suddenly her eyes lit up as she effusively greeted him with a lilting accent, hand reaching across the table. Metallic pink, Keith noted as he took her hand in his. She was definitely Allura Altea.
Shiro sat between them on the other side of the table, attempting to seem nonchalant as he sipped his glass. Tonight he had abandoned his laidback, Northern Californian tech guru look for something more refined, a grey button up rolled to just below the elbows and a thin black tie. Keith fought hard with himself to not simply stare, starry eyed.
To Keith's chagrin, he hadn't bothered to look into the unspoken dress code until the last minute, making do with a frumpled button up from that laundry that still smelled passable and the darkest pair of jeans he could muster. He arrived feeling like he was going to a dinner with a prince and a princess, the obvious gremlin of the table.
"So, Shiro's told me just about everything he knows about you." A mischievous glint in her eye. "I couldn't help but be curious, so I was dying to meet you. I hope you don't mind."
"N-no, not at all." He sputtered in surprise, quickly glancing over to see Shiro just about choking on his water, tiny black words that could be summed up as mortification filtering through Keith's ears. "I'm a big fan of your work, so I'm also honored to meet you."
Allura pouted and jokingly huffed, "Here I thought I could trust Shiro to keep my secrets. But he's always been sincere and honest to a fault."
"That's what I like about him best." Keith responded instantly, and Shiro coughed loudly, red in the ears as Allura smiled like young schoolgirl.
"Why don't we order now?" Shiro attempted. "Instead of pretending I'm not here. I almost regret having the two of you meet."
"I, for one, think it's your best idea yet Shiro." She picked up the menu before leaning towards Keith, conspiratorial. "Give me your number later, we can talk more without him fussing about it."
"I've created a monster." He sighed loudly, playfully.
Keith decided on the cheapest thing he could find that wasn’t a tongue twister of Italian, betting on the fact that if Allura and Shiro liked this place, he should find whatever his dinner was acceptable. Next to him, the pair chatted with their waiter like an old friend before Allura leaned closer to whisper in the server’s ear, the sapphires in her ears glimmering in the table candlelight.
Before he even realized, their waiter had returned with a red wine. Keith watched as she took a sip, then a small smile and an approving nod. As for him, the wine tasted less like grapes and vinegar that had been squeezed through a cardboard sieve than usual, and so it seemed not bad.
“So um…” Keith attempted. “How did the two of you meet?”
“University.” Allura answered instantly, brightly. “Shiro here was the golden boy of the astrophysics department, we all thought he was going to be an astronaut.”
“Things happen in life.” Shiro answered simply in reply. “And now I’m here in San Francisco.”
Once again her eyes held a knowing sparkle. “But could you imagine it, Keith? Shiro as the dashing captain of some sort of space adventure, leading his crew into unknown territory-”
“That’s a little advanced for what we have right now, Allura.” He reminded her with a sheepish grin before he set his jaw, eyes lowered. His voice was softer now, a little less forthcoming. “Besides, I could never be a leader.”
The words were once again black, and Keith watched Shiro, knowing that this wasn’t some sort of show of humbleness. There was an honesty to Shiro’s statement, even though it was obvious it hurt him. He looked across the table, Allura innocently sipping her wine.
“I think whatever you do would be great anyways, Shiro.” Keith said it low, hiding his face in the rim of his glass. He couldn’t help his startling admiration, and he felt a fool for it.
A red began to bloom on Shiro’s cheeks, his mouth hanging slightly open. Wordlessly, the waiter arrived with their dinner, Allura breaking the silence exclaiming over her lamb dish.
For just a second, right before he dug into what turned out to be tortellini, Keith caught Shiro’s eye, his smile warm from across the table.
“Thank you.” He mouthed wordlessly at Keith.
Keith knew that his grin was probably the goofiest one that Shiro had ever seen.
After polishing off the red wine by sharing the largest slice of chocolate cake Keith ever laid eyes on, Allura sped off in an Uber with an elegant hand wave, promising to message Keith later about all of Shiro’s most embarrassing moments. The two men stood awkwardly in the parking lot, not too close, but not very far either.
“Thanks for indulging her.” Shiro ran a nervous hand through his hair, the fringe flopping back down a little too effortlessly for Keith’s brain to take.
“It’s okay… I was… anxious at first.” Keith confessed. “But I had a good time. Allura’s incredibly nice.”
There was a chuckle in response, a hand coming up to his mouth. “Yeah well, sorry for the fancy dinner and all. I think she wanted to intimidate you but ended up liking you too much.”
“O-oh…” A wave of mixed emotions came over him, but in the end he was just a bit pleased. “Thank you to you too, for talking to me at the cafe that day.”
It always surprised Keith just how honest he could be in front of Shiro, as if instead of breaking down his walls, or whatever people liked to call it, he himself made ready strides to meet Shiro at the gates. The exposure frightened him frankly, it wasn’t something he let allowed himself to be in front of others.
When he was with Shiro though, when he was talking with Shiro, it seemed like every tiny admittance of his thoughts was rewarded tenfold in the boldest black, an exchange in its purest form.
It frightened him. How much he sought after it time and time again.
“I’m nothing much.” Keith remarked, his gaze sliding away, unable to look Shiro in the eye. “But you’ve been very kind to me... I’m not used to that.”
There again was the recklessness he never dreamed of. He was standing outside of the gates of his fortress, hand outstretched to welcome the other man in. Adrenaline pulsed in his veins.
Maybe I’ll regret baring myself to this guy for the rest of my life. Keith thought, gritting his teeth. Maybe I’ll regret ever saying anything, but more than anything I know I’ll regret not telling him how I felt at all.
"God, how can this guy be for real?"
The thought revealed itself to him, and he snapped back to see that Shiro had also turned away, hiding his flushed cheeks with the palm of his hand. After an embarrassed cough, Shiro faced Keith once again, face determined.
“Is it okay if I see you again?”
The words rushed over him, dark and once again painfully honest. One look at Shiro and Keith knew he wouldn’t have to be a mind reader to know that he meant what he said.
“You’re not like anyone else I’ve ever met.” He quickly continued with a tiny scoff. “God, that sounds so cliche… But Keith, I want to see more of you.”
He clutched his awfully wrinkly shirt, peering at Shiro as if gazing into an abyss in which he had to cross over. There on the other side was a world Keith had had never known, never thought he would. He just had to make it past, take that goddamn leap.
“Okay.” He mumbled, voice barely above a whisper. Keith’s ears were now a bright pink, his face a scrunched frown in an attempt to temper the sheer terror and happiness he felt all at once.
“Okay.” Keith repeated once more with more conviction, and Shiro’s smile lit up the 9pm parking lot like the sun on a summer afternoon.
His unabashed joy only intensified the burning red of Keith’s face. “Holy shit, you don’t have to look so happy about it.”
“Sorry, I just can’t help it. I just-” Shiro stopped his reply short
"-Want to kiss you so badly right now."
One hand wound around Shiro’s tie and tugged, pulling him close enough to Keith until they stood nose to nose.
“Do it.” Keith breathed, his breath hot on Shiro’s cheek.
“W-what?”
“I know you want to.” Violet eyes challenged him. “So do it.”
Another tug at the tie and their lips met, Keith deciding it was taking too long to explain to Shiro exactly what he meant.
At first startled, and then emboldened, Shiro slipped his hands around Keith’s waist, pulling him close enough for their chests to touch. Without the slightest hint of hesitation, he nipped at Keith’s bottom lip, firm fingers gripping at his hips. Keith wound his arms around his neck to hold on for dear life.
Holy hell. Keith thought as he fought to match the same ferocity, hands roaming the neatly shaved hair at the back of Shiro’s neck. This wasn’t just a first kiss. It was a collision that Keith might not walk out alive from.
Shiro finally pulled away, mouth wet from their sudden and furious exchange, neatly made up tie now completely askew. All Keith wanted to do was dive back in, Shiro on the receiving end of his finally realized pent-up frustration.
“Keith.” Shiro gasped, words as dark as his gaze. “You’re ridiculous, and amazing.”
“Coming from you, I know you really mean it.” He repeated the parting sentence from their first meeting.
That earned him another kiss, this time with the drag of tongue over his lips, which he gratefully received.
Keith, age twenty-two, graphic arts designer and mind reader.
With quite possibly the hottest, honest man to walk planet earth named Takashi Shirogane, sucking face in the parking lot of a fancy Italian restaurant.