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After all this time the path was still familiar to him. For his mind it felt like a lifetime ago that’d he’d last walked the Garrison’s halls. His body disagreed, carrying him forth as though he’d never left.
He kept his head down, grimly determined to not allow himself to be overtaken by nostalgia. Maybe if he refused to look he wouldn’t remember how Matt’s dorm was three rights and a left from this hall, wouldn’t remember the many nights he’d spent having study sessions that quickly devolved into anything but. He wouldn’t be able to recall sneaking out to the cafeteria two lefts from here after hours, knowing the risk but not being able to resist the siren call of the extra desserts in the freezer.
No, Takashi Shirogane was focused. He was going to go to his old dorm, grab his hoverbike goggles, and leave. He had no time to reflect on the past, not with a war going on.
He’d been cooped up in the Garrison’s administrative building for far too long. It had been meetings followed up by more meetings with an extra helping of meetings for months . Once he caught himself counting ceiling tiles he knew he needed a change of pace. Before his extended stay in space he’d always gone hoverbiking to clear his mind and calm his nerves. He knew Iverson and Allura would chew him out for missing what he was sure they’d claim was The Biggest and Most Important Meeting in the History of Meetings but he needed this more than he could bring himself to say out loud.
After Shiro’s presumed death the Garrison had done him the honor of unceremoniously dumping his personal belongings into a storage locker and never looking back. Frankly, he was surprised they hadn’t raffled his stuff off. He’d been the face of the Garrison. Though he’d quietly resented the pressure that came with the title, they didn't call him the Golden Boy for nothing.
Except, of course, for how they’d covered up his presumed death as a “pilot error”.
That had probably tanked his value quite a bit.
Sighing bitterly, he went back to the task at hand.
For as much as he wanted to complain about the lack of care, having everything in one place had made things a lot easier for him. Saved him trips to somewhere he absolutely did not want to go. It didn’t take long to pull out his riding jacket and gloves.
No matter how hard he searched, one of his necessities remained missing - his goggles.
Not one to give up, he nearly dumped all of the locker’s contents on the floor to rifle through them. No, the goggles had to be in there. Everything else was. Yet they were nowhere to be found.
He had a sinking feeling in his gut that he knew exactly where they were.
Shiro briefly considered forgoing the goggles and riding without them. He’d done it once. Sometimes he felt like there was still sand in his eyes after all these years. Rubbing his eyes at the thought, he moved onto trying to figure out how to craft some makeshift eye protection. Maybe he could strap some thin fabric to his face? Or ask one of the Holts’ if he could borrow their glasses. Anything.
Deep down he’d known he’d have to go back there eventually. He’d put it off for so long. Hoped for the right moment to come along. It seemed this was it.
He wasn’t going to allow himself to be beaten by a room. Jacket still in hand, he started the walk to the dorms.
Even with his head firmly down he could tell things had changed. The Garrison had always been a military operation but the school side had won out in the past. Now you could hardly tell it had ever been a place where kids came to learn. The goofy posters about how hard work and determination would get you anywhere or the importance of being punctual had long since been ripped off the walls.
He glued his eyes to the floor in hopes of ignoring how different everything was but even that wasn’t free from the war’s impact. No longer were floors meticulously swept and mopped as he’d remembered. It was full of scuffs and scratches. The scrapes all made lines that ended at doors. It was clear they’d been rushing to move heavy items in or out, though he wasn’t sure which - he didn’t like the implications of either."
It didn’t take long to reach his door. Room 021 on the first floor of the west wing. When he had still lived here he’d loved how close to the entrance his dorm was. Now he wished his dorm was as far away as possible. He wasn’t ready for this, but he had to be.
His hand reached out to knock but quickly fell limp when he remembered the courtesy would be wasted. No one was inside to answer the door. The entire building was deserted and he knew his dorm was no exception. Steeling his nerves and taking a final breath, he opened the door.
The dorm was full of things he recognized from the classrooms. Desks, chairs, a whiteboard, an old projector he hadn’t seen since he’d first enrolled as a teenager. They’d turned his dorm into a storage room. Judging by the layer of dust it had been a few months.
Peering over the sea of desks he could spot some of his furniture. It had all been haphazardly pushed up against the walls to make room.
It hit him in waves.
First it was anger. He was upset, irrationally so. The Garrison desperately needed the storage space, he knew that, but it was his and they’d defiled it. He knew he was overreacting. They thought he was dead. The lease was up. There’s no point in saving space for a dead man. Still, the pain of seeing the one place he could call his own ruined overtook him. He’d always dreamed of being able to come back and drape himself over his bed and maybe, just for a moment, pretend he’d never left.
They should’ve left it. Even if he wasn’t using it. Even if Adam-
Adam.
He’d finally hit what he was trying so desperately to avoid.
They hadn’t been able to keep Adam’s fate from him.
He’d known something was wrong when his ex wasn’t there to greet him.
Shiro had considered himself a man who carved his own path. So full of ambition that destiny itself bent to his will. He tackled every problem the world threw at him head on and, no matter how difficult or how long it took, had come out on top. Adam had always been the exception. He was a force of nature all on his own. If Shiro was the unstoppable force Adam was the immovable object. Adam was smart, too smart for his own good, a careful planner. He was the kind of man who’d had his life planned out for years and Shiro couldn’t help but love that about him.
He’d always revelled in the feeling of having met his match. Someone who could keep up. Together nothing on earth could stand in their way.
Shiro had lived his life relying on dark humor, but even he couldn’t manage a smile over the fact that space had been what tore them apart. Kerberos - a moon. Only the heavens above could stop them.
Shiro had never planned his life in the same way Adam had. He didn’t have the luxury. Not with his body slowly killing itself. His days had been numbered and all he knew was that he was going to make the most of them.
Takashi Shirogane was going to go to space no matter what.
Adam disagreed.
And that was the end.
Even with their relationship over Adam had still been there for him. He’d come to the Kerberos launch to wish him good luck. Shiro had seen the hurt in his eyes and heard the silent plea underneath Adam’s words.
Don’t go, Takashi. There’s still time.
Staying had never been an option to Shiro.
He’d thanked Adam for coming and boarded the ship without looking back. Selfishly he’d always hoped they could fix things after the mission. He knew he’d broken Adam’s heart in the same way Adam had broken his, but he never stopped hoping. He so desperately wanted to apologize, to explain, to hold him again and never let go.
He’d missed that chance by 3 months.
Adam had taken the fight to the Galra and been sent hurtling back down to earth trapped in the Garrison’s comparatively primitive ship. Earth was fighting a losing battle without Voltron and Altean tech on their side. Their survival rates were horrifying and Adam had gone anyway.
Shiro would’ve done the same.
They really were a perfect, reckless match.
A small, cruel part of himself that only seemed to get louder as time marched on whispered how it was his fault. The paladins had spent too much time cleaning up his mess. If they’d left him trapped in Black they could’ve gotten here in time. They could’ve saved Adam in exchange for dooming Shiro to an eternity in the astral plane. A life for a life.
But no, Adam was dead. Deceased. Departed. Passed on. Gone.
It had finally hit him and he was powerless to stop it.
Everything in his life had been a blur of motion, leaving him no time to catch his breath. From birth until now had been a whirlwind that he maneuvered through as best as he could. But now everything had halted. Life was still. He was too aware of the overwhelming sorrow in his heart and how it spread through his body. He longed for the moment to be over, for the blinding speed to overtake him again.
Every part of him wanted to cry, to sob, to be allowed to mourn to his fullest. That was a reprieve his mind had long stopped allowing him, content to stuff every emotion as far down as it would go. Misery wasn’t befitting of a leader.
Clenching his jaw, he took an agonizing step forward. He’d always kept his goggles in their bedroom. His body moved clumsily towards their room, pushing the maze of desks and chairs out of his way. This is a mission. A leader should know better than to let emotions cloud his vision.
Their bedroom had remained nearly untouched with the exception of a small stack of chairs in the middle of the floor. He dared not look around. No, he definitely wasn’t going to look mournfully at how their beds had been moved apart after the break up. He for sure wasn’t going to notice how the one book he knew Adam reread when he was stressed was still open on his desk. Most importantly of all, he wasn’t blinking back tears as he made direct eye contact with a picture of Adam he’d taken at his 21st birthday party. Adam had hated the picture and was prone to setting it face down on the dresser, but Shiro treasured it. Adam had never been one to freely smile, but the booze had changed that. He’d never seen his boyfriend smile that hard in his life. All it had taken was a quick kiss on the cheek and a whispered I love you.
Shiro tore his eyes away and nearly ripped the drawer straight out of the dresser. His goggles were where he had last left them, tucked in neatly with a book of constellations he’d had since he was a child and Adam’s five pairs of backup glasses. He grabbed his riding goggles, slapped them onto his forehead hard enough to make him wince, and slammed the drawer shut.
He had to get out of here.
With a fresh wave of motivation fueling him Shiro once again made his way through the maze. He was practically sprinting by the time he made it to the door. Freezing at the entrance, he placed a weary arm on the door frame. He wanted to turn around. Take a final look. Not run away from his emotions for once in his life.
As his mind raced his body had already begun to work. He slipped his goggles down into place with forced gentleness. His arms found their way into his jacket. A shaky hand gingerly shut and locked the door.
He never looked back.
The desert was waiting for him.