Chapter Text
Your name is Keith. Your mother's name is Krolia, and for all intents and purposes, your dad's name is Tex, even though it's a nickname because he insists on being called that by anyone who's asking.
And people ask a lot. In your opinion, everyone's too nosy around here, and everyone should mind their own business. Just because you live in a small town doesn't mean that you care about what everyone else is doing. You're kind of a loner. You don't like to think of yourself that way, but someone said it to you one time, and ever since, it was like a brand that stuck.
You're Keith, the loner, and you'll wear fingerless gloves and tank tops 'til the end of your days. It feels like you were born in them, and they feel comfortable.
Your house is the one that stands on the left side of the culdesac, with the fresh paint on the side of the house over splintering wood, courtesy of your dad even though the place is getting up there in age. Dad is mowing the lawn right now, flattening weeds like the contrast of a military haircut in progress for someone who's never cut his hair. The grass has been getting long. You're just lucky Mom hasn't made you cut it, because the way she's been eyeing you makes you think you made a narrow escape.
Dad doesn't like for you to hang around outside when he's cutting the lawn, so you cross the street to visit Shiro, your best friend inside the culdesac and probably the whole neighborhood. Maybe the entire world. His black truck is parked in front of the house and the truck bed is filled with stuff. Wood chairs, blankets, an old television, a PS4. Bags he can't see into. And that's not all.
Shiro emerges from the house carrying another box, this time filled with clothes. He puts it down in the truck and stops when he sees you.
It's been coming for weeks now, but you still can't stop yourself from stating the obvious like an idiot. "You're moving today," you say as you take in Shiro for what might be the last time, in his brown work boots and his cutoff t-shirt, the sunburnt arms that show that he works out way too much. Although contemplating those arms, you wonder if there is such a thing, working out too much.
"Yeah. I'm moving," Shiro says, looking at you. His eyes widen, and he pulls you into a hug you aren't expecting. But you let it happen, let him pull you against his ribs and hard body. Behind your eyes, that stinging sensation creeps up, but you aren't going to let it take over, not today. Not when you're with Shiro. "You gonna be okay here?" he asks, and what you tell him is the truth. You're going to be okay because you have to be, whether he's here or not.
"Why would I not be okay? Of course I'll be okay," you reassure him, and you can see that he's visibly relieved. You pull back from his embrace. "I'm gonna miss your truck though."
"You'll have to drive yourself around now. Test out that new license."
"Haha, yeah." It's bullshit you had to be 16 to get it--you've been driving on Mom's property since you were 12. Still, Shiro taught you some pretty great things. You're going to miss sitting at the wheel with Shiro next to you, flicking your ear to tell you to slow down, you're not in a hurry.
You just wish you had more time to spend with him, that's all.
"Are you?" you ask.
"Am I what?" Going to be okay. "Oh, pssht, yeah. I'll finally get to see the big city. See, here's my new apartment, and if you go to the top of this building at night you can see all the lights." He shows you a picture of his living space on his phone, and the lights of the city when he scrolls left. "They almost look like stars."
His apartment looks okay, if a little small. You don't see why he's so excited about it. And the lights do look like stars, but the stars here are infinitely better. You know you're right, and you tell him so.
"Keith." Shiro frowns. When he says your name in that way you know he's exasperated, but patiently so.
"I just wish I was coming with you."
He puts a hand on your shoulder and you look up. "Keith. Do well in school, get good grades, and you can get into any college you want. Plus, I'll come visit you. I'll keep in touch."
Will he? The way things go in this town, people leave, and then they're never seen again. That's what happened with Mom. That's what happened with Matt, heck, that's what happened with Lance's dog. All the people in your life are missing, and you don't want Shiro to go, too.
"Will you?"
"I promise."
And you know he will, with his close-cropped hair that hangs too long in the front and obscures his face, and his mouth that smiles too easily. You just don't trust yourself. What if, after this, things change, and you won't have that same relationship with Shiro again?
You lean against his truck, as is natural, but then straighten up when you realize it's freshly washed. Shiro just polished and waxed this thing.
"It's okay. It's still the same old truck." Shiro crosses his arms and leans on the front door anyway, possibly leaving a smudge of his own.
You relax and lean on the back door facing Shiro, and think that no matter how long you look, it's never going to be enough.
---
3 years later
Your name is still Keith. No matter how many times Lance calls you mullet head or fuckface,
it's still Keith. Since Shiro left...you guess Lance is your best friend in the world, but this best is not equal.
Lance lives in the house next to yours. It has pretty much the same floor plan, except his family actually uses the large dining room that splits off of the antechamber. The McClains have had you over for dinner a handful of times, and his mom has excellent cooking. He also has a friend named Hunk whom you've met in passing, and apparently he's a cooking buff, so when he helps Lance's mom, you eat, and you've died and gone to heaven. Those were some good nights. Lance possesses none of those skills.
You and Lance walk around the back of your house towards the garage, where you have your toolbox stored and the bike Shiro gave you along with the owner's manual.
"Come on, won't you teach me something? I can fix your bike for free."
"My bike isn't broken."
"But you never ride it." You do, but not very often, and not around Lance.
"Doesn't mean it's broken," you say, but you continue leading Lance to the garage. "Look, just because you learn about my motorcycle doesn't mean you're an engineer. It won't make you smarter than you were, and it won't make you seem that way. I don't know why you don't think you're smart enough to hang out with Hunk as it is. You're plenty smart."
"Why is he leaving me for Pidge then? Every day, they bond over engineering stuff or make some sciencey joke I can't understand. He spends less and less time hanging out with me. I just don't know what to do."
Like you said, you don't know why someone one day decides to leave somebody else, but there seems to be a pattern.
You press the button on the clicker that opens the door to the garage and stalk over to your bike. On the shelf is the owner's manual, so you pick it up and toss it to Lance.
"What's this?" he asks.
"The manual for the bike. The way I learned about it was reading that, so you're gonna have to do it at some point."
"You read?"
"Yes. I'm not 'naturally smart,' Lance, there is no such thing." He pouts, so you show him some things, but he doesn't really seem interested or even seem to enjoy it, so you both wash your hands off and go to Pidge's house next door.
Pidge's house is the one next to Shiro's. You still call it Shiro's in your mind even though now only his parents live there. It's a habit you can't break.
When you enter Pidge's house, she and Hunk are sitting on the couch, perusing something on her laptop. A man with chin-length hair is standing in front of them on the phone, listening attentively as if he's waiting for a radio ticket. Now that you think about it, he does look familiar, and he has the same facial structure as Pidge.
"Matt's home?" you ask her, hoping for an explanation?
"Yeah, he just came home last week! He's starting a business here in Littleton." The conversation continues as you slowly process the fact that Pidge's older brother, who hasn't existed for as long as you can remember, willingly came back. "And guess who else is coming back?" she says. "Shiro!"
Shiro's coming back? You thought he was gone.
"Is he coming back here, or just back to town?"
"Well, his parents live here, of course he's coming here."
That's right. But you aren't ready to see that big black truck.
---
Through a strange twist of fate, your name is Shiro. You're a Japanese-American man who lives in the south part of the USA, and you're also gay, though you're very glad you didn't discover that there. In college you learned that that part of the country doesn't tend to be very forgiving, and although Littleton seems like a nice community, you don't want to test it there.
The drive back is long. You keep yourself awake with sugary gas station coffee and country rock on the radio. When you pull into your driveway late at night, you feel bone-deep relief envelop you like a blanket.
You say goodnight to your parents. In the morning, you greet Matt and Pidge, and their new friend Lance, who moved in shortly after you left. You want to see Keith, though you wonder how he'll respond to you after not being in contact with you for so long.
You texted him. You called him. Frequently, in the beginning, and then less so as he stopped returning your texts. You assumed he didn't want to hear from you after so long, and you didn't know why.
He doesn't answer the door, so you are just preparing to come back later or call when Keith comes around the side of the house wearing a plaid button-down. He drops his hose and it spills into the garden.
He calls your name.
"Keith!" you call in response. You get closer, but there's no hug, no reaction, nothing. "How have you been?"