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Wrong.
After he awoke in the midst of the night, cramped on a couch that was now too small for him, Takashi- now Shiro- began to yank at the hair that clung between his eyes. It was just a dream, or a some sort of twisted vision the Druids would give him for a punishment when physical torture became inadequate, never being the real thing, which meant his escape attempt and crash landing to his home planet was all fake as well. He swallowed thickly, awaiting for someone from his past to saunter up and screech at him how dare you leave your team behind, you murderer, or Takashi help me they've taken over Earth or whatever his mind decided to spew.
Shiro was tired, joints aching from the imagined crash and the multitude of arena battles he'd been forced through in the past few- what was time again? Years, months, weeks, hours, seconds all blended together in a mute melody meant for other ears, he gave up on it a while ago. But when he realized he felt pain, Shiro paused; that wasn't possible in these sorts of things.
He stood from the couch, leaping being more accurate, head turning to examine his surrounds.
Shack.
Keith's shack.
As in Keith on Earth.
Shoulders heaved, jaw trembling, mind rushing.
He made it. He actually made it.
The Champion made a move to find his old friend, maneuvering past the coffee table and the piles and stacks of papers arranged into messy groupings, when the bright glow of a laptop on the side opposite to him stopped him dead in his tracks. Metal arm whirling as it shuffled against his side, the shining outline of a frightfully familiar face sewed fear into every inch of the gladiator's frame.
It was someone who haunted him in every memory, in every vision, every dream and nightmare and someone who haunted him from hundreds of thousands of lightyears without knowing how her existence stung him like thousands of wounds.
Her eyes made no move toward him, instead glued to the screen with a gaze that was as utterly drained and exhausted as his had became. Long, gentle golden waves had been unevenly hacked off by her own hand, posture and mannerisms and everything different, owning her brother's glasses upon her nose and looking terrifying similar to the missing man. She looked like someone else, like she was trying desperately to bee someone else, and it was all wrong.
Katie wasn't Katie and he hated it with every nerve in his body, with every synapse left in his head because where had the girl who snatched his heart fled to?
Shiro plastered his replaced palm over his mouth, stifling a choke as he took in the majority of her near limp figure, the cabin suddenly too small of his liking. It was so different, she wasn't supposed to look like that, how long had he been gone, what all did he miss-
Shiro stumbled crookedly out of the shack, shoving the door open without a second thought, feet shifting awkwardly through sand until he snagged a patch of grass and crashed to the ground, breath ragged. Both sets of fingers digging into the underfoot, his head flailed and yelled about the girl in the shack, on fire about how he should've been there, he should've escaped earlier, he should've, he should've, he didn't.
With his gaze turned to decaying flowers beneath him, Shiro grit his teeth, cursing and crying and choking and slamming his hands on the sand and everything was screaming because how much he missed his planet and his family and his innocent, long-gone Katie.
Even the flowers he crushed under his feet seemed to tell how much of her he missed.