Chapter Text
sheithfromvoltron:
“May your feet serve you well and the rest be sent to Hell
where they always have belonged, cold hearts brew colder songs”
Shiro unlocked his apartment door, threw his keys on the counter, and leaned against the fridge. It’d been a long day at the clinic and he was ready to be done. But something felt off and it made him look around.
He checked the bathroom, the living room, and then his bedroom, but found nothing. He shook his head, he was always on edge around this time of year. He’d switched jobs five years ago and though that was what lead to this, it wasn’t the reason for it.
The reason was his partner, ex-partner. They’d worked together for years and it had worn on them; they got to close, it was a danger to both of them. And Shiro was the one to call it quits, leaving him behind to be a surgeon (well, that’s what he decided after a year of bouncing around from job to job).
He wanted to help people, not hurt them. Not anymore. He still had enough of his contacts that it wasn’t hard to get university records forged claiming he’d graduated medical school. And he knew more than enough about how bodies worked (and things that killed) to know every way not to kill someone.
Walking back into the kitchen, he scoffed, opening the fridge. “Hey, Keit—” He slammed the door shut, “What the fuck are you doing here?”
exnorate:
Shirogane was a legend. He’d been the best of the best of them among the Veil, with one of the highest kill counts in the organization’s shadowy history. When he’d gone down in a hail of bullets, with only a fraction of him left for discovery, they’d all mourned. But then they’d moved on. All of them except, for one. Keith had been Shiro’s partner that faithful mission. He’d been his partner for a long time. Just another kid who’d been sold into the system, remade and rebuilt by forces far stronger than he thought he could ever be.
Like a dog with a bone, Keith hadn’t been able to let Shiro go. For too long, he chased a dead man, bulldozing through every obstacle like a madman, spitting in the face of everyone who’d told him he was fighting for a lost cause. It almost destroyed him. Because at the end of the day, Shiro was gone. Keith learned to accept that that didn’t change, even if Shiro was still breathing.
He never wanted to be here, in Shiro’s polished, empty kitchen, in a home that screamed of the mundane and vulnerable. Keith didn’t think he could recognize the man who lived here. Until he caught Shiro by surprise, and that spark danced behind his eyes.
“Surprised?” He asked, holding himself carefully, like the shadows could keep Shiro from seeing too much. His side throbbed. All things considered, that was probably a good thing. “You never thought any of us would catch up?”
sheithfromvoltron:
“No, I always figured you would…” a slow smile spread across his lips, “just didn’t think it’d take this long.” He turned his back, knowing if Keith was here to kill him, one of them would already be dead. Reopening the fridge, he pulled out two beers, popped both open, and set one on the counter.
“So are you gonna keep hiding or are you gonna get get up here and let me fix you?” He didn’t like this, didn’t like Keith in his house. He didn’t like the judgement in his ex-partner’s eyes. Didn’t like him dredging up the past and feelings he’d thought long buried. He turned away again, assuming Keith would take the latter option and pulled his backup med bag out of the bottom drawer.
exnorate:
Keith didn’t move an inch, the corners of his mouth turning down in a vicious sneer. “This is it?” He spat, voice laced with accusations. “This is why you left? This shitty room and a shitty job. This made everything worth it?!”
His anger bled through, giving away far too much. It was sloppy, unprofessional. Everything Keith normally wasn’t. Shiro had always been a special case. Shiro had always forced him to push harder.
sheithfromvoltron:
I couldn’t watch you destroy yourself. That was the reason, but he’d never voiced it. Keith had gotten reckless worrying more about him then the mission or even himself; though Keith had never really cared all that much about himself.
“Are you here to kill me, Keith?” he stared back at eyes that raged like the sea and set his beer down, “because if you are just do it now. I’m not gonna fight you.”
exnorate:
That calm, easy acceptance burned like a fire through Keith. There was once a time when that even temperament had made Shiro seem unflappable, the pinnacle of what they could be, but then, Keith had thought Shiro could do no wrong. Even after he’d turned traitor, that sick sense of calm remained. It was as if nothing could touch Shiro, or worse, like he didn’t think Keith could go through with it.
Years of regret and disappointment came crashing down around him as his vision swam, dark spots biting into his sight.
Keith wanted to tell Shiro that he never wanted to be here, that he wasn’t the stupid kid he left behind, that he no longer thought Shiro walked on water. He wanted to tell Shiro that Shiro was a failure and an embarrassment, and Keith’s gun was still steady but his bullets deserved better targets. Keith never got the chance. He was bleeding through the tourniquet he’d wrapped around his middle, the bullet wounds messy and ugly beneath his makeshift bandages and everything was so goddamn cold.
He reached out, meaning to brace himself against the table, but it was too late. Keith was already falling, leaving a bloody handprint across the countertop.