Chapter Text
Takashi Shirogane stands near the doorway of his and Keith’s hut. His thumbs fiddle with the clasp of his cloak, still not used to using his prosthetic. It was a wooden thing, pumped with magic to make it almost as mobile as a real arm. It’s not perfect, but better than nothing. Yet Shiro still can’t get the fingers to cooperate with the finer motor skills.
Keith comes up in front of him, hands coming up to clasp Shiro’s cloak. His lips are pressed in a thin line, and there’s worry etched into the details of his face.
It’s three days until the full moon.
Shiro brings up his own hand, his flesh one to rest on Keith’s shoulder. He squeezes, puts on his warmest smile, and says, “Thank you.” He knows Keith worries about him leaving at this time of the month, but doesn’t fight him on it anymore.
“I wish you wouldn’t always go so close to the full moon,” He grumbles, instead of saying “you’re welcome.”
Shiro frowns. “I know. But I can’t help how my treatments line up.” Which is the truth. Every month, Shiro treks through the woods to meet with a healer to treat his illness. It's always around the time of the full moon, and Keith is never happy about it.
“Well then I wish you’d let me come with you.” Keith says, not making eye contact, one hand twisted in Shiro’s cloak and the other crossing his chest; Somewhere between closed off and holding on.
“Suppose there really is a werewolf out there,” Shiro begins. “What good will it do if both of us get caught?”
Keith looks up now at Shiro, annoyed. “Then I can help you.”
“Keith--”
“Then I at least won’t be sitting here waiting to see if you’ll return, or if they’ll find your body in the woods!”
It pangs in Shiro’s chest how much Keith worries when he’s away. He wishes he could be more honest. But instead, he squeezes Keith’s shoulder again. “Keith, you have nothing to worry about. And I think you know that, or else you wouldn’t leave out a basket of food every month,” Shiro smiles, trying to lighten up the mood.
Keith blushes, embarrassed. “A basket of rotten food! Better the animals eat it, instead of it spoiling further. What makes you think it’s for the wolf?”
“The fact that it only goes out during the full moon.”
Keith huffs. “Well maybe if he eats from my basket, he’ll stop eating villagers.”
Shiro sighs, wishing Keith wouldn’t buy into the village hysteria. “I told you, those were clearly done by a real animal. Not a made up one.”
“He’s not made up, Shiro, he’s been seen!”
“Keith, I promise... Those attacks weren’t supernatural.”
Keith, done arguing, simply sighs and finally frees Shiro’s cloak from his grasp. “Just... Be careful Shiro. Promise me that?”
Shiro smiles at him. “Of course. I have to get going, if I want to make it to the healer by sundown.”
They make eye contact for a moment, and Shiro can almost imagine a sense of longing lingering between them. Longing for a goodbye embrace, or maybe something more. But he’s just imagining it. Keith is his house mate, his friend, his... His Keith. Keith is just Keith, and Shiro appreciates that more than Keith will ever know.
Shiro almost pulls Keith in for that goodbye hug, but he refrains. Instead, he slides his hand from Keith’s shoulder and down his arm, fingers brushing against Keith’s before he turns to head out the door. He grasps the handle, and Keith reminds him to not forget his travel bag as he picks it up for him and hands it over.
He walks out of the hut, and turns back to Keith still standing in the doorway and offers a wave and a small smile. Keith tries to return the smile, but Shiro can tell it’s tense, forced. So he turns instead to focus on his journey ahead.
He wishes he could tell Keith the real reason why not to worry. The real reason why Shiro has no need to fear the werewolf lurking in the woods.
It’s because it’s him. Shiro is the werewolf that the village fears.