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Keith was having a bad day. One of those unavoidable days when even the loose V of his favorite shirt was too tight, when the lights burned his eyes, when the quiet atmosphere of the Castle made his ears ring until he couldn’t think. On days like these even Shiro’s touch was unwelcome, and everyone’s voices made him grind his teeth.
Getting out of bed was an ordeal. He skipped his morning shower, knowing he was going to need that energy to make it through training, and rushed down to the dining room in an attempt to beat the others there.
No such luck. He must’ve overslept, because everyone was already there, helping themselves to the morning food goo. All he could do as he slid into his seat was be thankful that they weren’t training in their armor today. The tightness of the flight suit added to the bulkiness of the armor was difficult to deal with even on a good day.
Breakfast was a battle. The slimy texture of the food goo rendered it intolerable. Lance chattered loudly. Pidge shouted over him and Keith tensed to keep his hands from instinctively rising to his ears. Hunk brushed his hand reaching for something and he wished he could sprout spikes through his skin, just to keep everyone at a safe distance. Shiro asked him a question and he heard the words but couldn’t parse what they meant. So he nodded, knowing his own voice would be under lock and key, and hoped it was the right answer.
By the time the meal was over Keith’s neck ached from the constant tension. He stayed in his chair until everyone else had walked past him, unwilling to make a scene by recoiling if anyone happened to touch him, then followed the group out a few feet behind. None of them seemed to notice. He kept his arms folded and pressed tightly to his chest-- maybe the pressure would make it easier to breathe through all the noise Lance was making.
They reached the training deck and all the conversation layered into a buzz. He followed the others’ lead, going to the center of the floor and sitting in a circle. Somehow he ended up with Hunk on his right and Lance on his left, but thankfully neither of them noticed how he kept his knees held up slightly higher than normal, just to make sure they didn’t brush against Lance’s or Hunk’s. He already knew how it would feel, being touched when he was like this, and he knew the sensations wouldn’t fade unless he rubbed at the spot like he was trying to get warm. Not something he could do here.
By some miracle he managed to comprehend a few of the words coming out of Allura’s mouth. They were going to do a quintessence exercise. They’d done it a few times before, practicing passing through each other’s bodies and strengthening their mental connections. To Keith this was a relief-- if he wasn’t in his body, he wouldn’t have to deal with all the sirens blaring in his head.
Obediently the paladins joined hands. Normally it would take a few seconds to ease into the exercise, but this time Keith rushed it, pushing hard at the barrier between himself and Hunk and managing to break through before he felt the agony of skin against his.
Out of everyone, Hunk’s consciousness was Keith’s favorite to be in. Everything was warm and rather muted, light and noise not penetrating as deeply. There was some anxiety in the pit of his stomach, but Keith would take that over sensory overload any day of the week.
Knowing how the exercise was supposed to work, he mentally shook himself and stretched. It felt like stretching after waking up from a nap, but it wasn’t muscles working, it was the quintessence. Allura wanted them to know how to move their quintessence around through the paladin bond, just in case Haggar pulled a wild card on them. So Keith focused on moving his to fill the larger space he now had, pulling until he felt it settle into the tips of fingers and toes.
The first time they’d done this Pidge had complained, once again, about people being in her body. Most of the time Keith didn’t mind; today it was actually a relief. He had more space-- didn’t feel trapped in his skin anymore.
But before he could get comfortable, a harsh jolt ran through the whole group. Someone shouted-- Hunk’s brain told him it was Lance’s voice-- and that was all the warning he got before being thrown violently back into his own body.
The itch/ache/chill of his hands being touched set in immediately. He shook them vigorously, trying his best to get rid of the sensation, and when he opened his eyes he winced at the painful brightness of the lighting. Probably why it took him so long to notice Lance making the same hand motions he was.
“Dude, what the hell?” he exclaimed, the sudden volume making Keith cringe. “What the fuck did you do to your hands? It feels like someone dunked them in ice water then made me play basketball with a tumbleweed!”
Keith just shook his head. Everyone was looking at him, and he never knew how to explain this anyway, and Shiro was already getting that concerned expression and starting to stand up and he did not want to be touched. His hands rose to his chin and anxiously bunched into the hair that fell around his neck, trying to resist the urge to cover his ears.
“Keith, did you get hurt?” asked Shiro. He shook his head again and uncrossed his legs to pull his knees to his chest. Instantly Shiro’s expression changed-- he knew how to read the signs.
“Alright, everyone back up.”
“Paladins!” Everyone whipped around at Allura’s voice. Everyone, that is, except Keith. That yell was the final straw; he buried his head in his knees and planted his palms over his ears, closing his eyes against the harsh lighting and the hot tears that were pricking up. “What is going on here? Why did you stop the exercise?”
The voices were muffled through his defenses, but Keith still heard when Lance tried to answer.
“Keith--”
“I’ll explain to Allura,” Shiro interrupted, which Keith was grateful for. “Everybody take five.” Then, as an afterthought, “And leave Keith alone.”
Thank God for Shiro.
After that the voices grew softer until they were just a quiet hum in the background. Keith focused on breathing: deep breath in, deep breath out. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Somewhere behind him he could hear Lance’s voice, saying, “Ok but what just happened? Is no one going to explain it to me?”
“Don’t look at me,” answered Hunk. “I don’t know either.”
Lance scoffed. “Knowing him he probably found the Altean equivalent of itch cream and did it on purpose, just to mess with me.”
“Oh my god, Lance, will you shut up?” That was Pidge, tone short and snappy.
He grimaced a little. Keith could understand why she was irritated (he had fucked up training, after all) but trying to push through the rest of the day knowing they were mad at him was going to be a feat he wasn’t sure he could accomplish.
He wasn’t sure how long it was before the talking stopped and Shiro came over to him. Keith could feel the heat from his body when he knelt beside him, but Shiro didn’t try to touch him, and when he spoke he kept his voice low.
“Hey, Keith. Bad day?”
Throat still closed tight like a vice, all Keith could manage was a nod.
“Do you want to take a break for a bit and try again, or do you want to take the day off?”
That just twisted his guts up into a million knots. He knew what the right answer was, what they all wanted to hear-- that he could stop acting ridiculous and do what was expected of him, as a Paladin and as a functional human being. But could he pull it off? He doubted it.
“No wrong answers, remember?” Shiro prodded gently.
Somehow, Keith found a few words. “Doesn’t apply. Not anymore.”
Truth be told the sentence wasn’t that coherent, but Shiro understood. He didn’t always, but this time he did.
“No one’s mad at you. No one is going to be mad at you, no matter which option you choose. Not even Allura.”
Reluctantly he raised his head. He could feel the tears trapped in his eyelashes and mentally winced; he could only imagine what kind of a mess he looked like right now. Shiro was beside him, as ever, while Allura and Coran stood a bit apart, murmuring to each other. Keith wasn’t an expert at facial expressions, but he didn’t think they looked annoyed.
The other three paladins stood in a group a few steps in front of him. Hunk looked worried, Lance appeared confused, and Pidge seemed… sympathetic? But then why had she seemed so mad earlier? Had he gotten it wrong again?
Shiro noticed his gaze lingering on Pidge. “Keith? What’s wrong?”
Keith’s hands had slid back down to his hair, and he gave it a quick tug. Painful, but grounding. He hadn’t quite managed to get out words yet, but before he even had to Pidge caught on.
“Did you hear me earlier?” she asked, and very, very carefully, Keith nodded. Pidge flushed uncomfortably.
“Ah, sorry, I-- I wasn’t mad at you. I promise. I was just telling Lance off for being so tactless.”
“Hey!” Lance protested. “I have plenty of tact! Just because I don’t know what’s going on--”
“Alright, alright,” said Shiro. “Enough. Keith, do you want to stop or not? Either answer is ok.”
Keith’s eyes jumped from person to person. There was always a level of uncertainty, knowing that he wasn’t good at reading other people’s emotions, but none of them were exhibiting the signs he’d learned (with much trial and error) meant irritation or annoyance.
So, a little warily, he lowered his knees along with his hands, and when he had Shiro’s attention, signed the motion for ‘stop’. Shiro nodded, not the least bit perturbed.
“Ok. Do you want me to walk you to your bunk? Yes or no?”
‘No.’
“Alright, go ahead. One of us will come get you when it’s time to eat again.”
Keith’s knees were still a little wobbly when he got to his feet, and a headache pounded at his temples. But considering all the faces before him, all the ones that could’ve been angry and vicious but hadn’t been…
He felt a little better.