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“It is a beautiful and delightful sight to behold the body of the Moon.”
― Galileo Galilei, The Starry Messenger, Venice 1610: "From Doubt to Astonishment"
For a brief moment in time, Keith lives in New York City.
For a three year old, it’s a large and vast world, fast paced, loud. Very different from the quiet countryside he’d lived in previously. But Keith, with his little brain and big eyes and wide smile, isn’t fazed by this change. He takes it in stride, continues growing, giggling, pointing at the sky in wonderment. The sky here is a beautiful thing, so alive and active and fascinating. There’s planes, birds, kites, bugs, buildings. It’s like a world unto itself, never boring, never silent. Keith loves it, and his shouts of acclamation for each new wonderment echo down the streets every time he steps outside.
Keith misses the moon though. It’s not around much nowadays. Too many clouds and buildings and streetlights.
“Just because you can’t see it,” his mother says, “doesn’t mean the moon isn’t there, Keith. Don’t worry, she’s still keeping you company at night.”
He tries to remember, but it’s hard when you’re three, and being able to see the things you love feels very different than not seeing them at all. So to cope, as any three year old does, he insists his mom read Goodnight Moon every night, because of course you need to say goodnight if you love something, and it’s only fitting and proper that the moon be included in this nightly routine. Now, the moon doesn’t feel so far away, and it helps him sleep more soundly in this new place, ending it on a familiar and friendly note.
The crescent shaped nightlight helps, too, for those particularly dark and foreign and scary nights.
In many ways, the moon is Keith’s first friend, the first to hear whispered secrets, unspoken wishes, small laughs and silent tears. The kindest, most reliable companion. She’s there for each and every one of Keith’s moves, each new house, school, neighborhood. And when he finally finds himself in Arizona four years after he lost sight of her in New York, when he steps outside his new home and sees the moon shining bigger and brighter than he’s ever seen it, Keith can’t help but feel it’s shining for him, singing, welcome home friend, welcome home.
So if the moon is Keith’s first friend, then Shiro’s his second.
Although maybe he should count them as one; the two of them are very similar, after all.
Shiro is his next-door neighbor. He’s a nice kid, a little older than him, constantly outside looking at the clouds or the stars or whatever happens to be in the sky that day. Shiro’s funny to watch, Keith thinks. But that’s all he does: watch. The idea of talking to him is out of the question. He’s too nice, too curious, too… too…
Too what?
Keith doesn’t know. But he’s content with just watching for now, ignoring his mom’s suggestions to play outside. Instead he sits on the front porch with her and takes in this desert world.
Next door, Shiro sees him and waves. Keith just ducks his head and looks away.
It always goes like this.
Then Shiro’s parents set up a telescope in the back yard. Turns out it’s easy to bond with someone when you both love space.
The moment Keith accepts the Shirogane’s invitation to watch the coming meteor shower together, the floodgates open. They take turns looking through the telescope, pointing out each shooting star with wonder and awe. They look at the moon and the constellations and try to spot those faraway planets. They laugh and scream and ramble and Keith feels like he’s glowing.
It’s in this that, at the grand old age of seven, Keith realizes something. In all of his moves and adventures, in all of his walking and talking and reading Goodnight Moon before bed, this is his first time making a real friend.
Overhead, the meteors fall, the stars twinkle, and the moon sings her approval.
Time crawls slowly at first, a snail’s pace, but that’s unsurprising when you’re young and all you want to do is grow up. Keith talks about this with Shiro a lot, spends a lot of nights outside with him, talking about stars and the moon and growing up and the latest cartoon they’re both obsessed with. They also talk about flying and space and everything in-between.
“Do you think there’s such a thing as aliens?”
Shiro shrugs. “I dunno. Maybe.”
Keith sighs. “I think so.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” He points at the moon. “Gonna find ‘em.”
Shiro smirks. “You’re going to find aliens?”
“Yeah. You gonna help me?”
Keith glances at Shiro as he turns to face him. “Sure.”
The future is set then. “Good.”
Time continues to inch ever forward at its steady, crawling rate. Weirdly, Keith finds he doesn’t mind.
Truth is, he doesn’t remember much of the details of his constant moving before Arizona, just knows that his life has felt very unsettled and chaotic for as long as he can remember. Most things in Keith’s life have been fleeting and short, upheaved in an instant.
Shiro’s his rock, now.
This small home in Arizona is the longest one Keith’s ever lived in, and Shiro’s the longest real friend he’s ever had. Being around him makes Keith feel strong and unshakeable and like he can take on anything.
Which is why, as time continues to plod onward, the moon continues to sing her song, and Shiro continues to smile at him, it’s so easy for Keith to punch one of his bullies in the face on the first day of high school.
Keith’s used to it. He’s the youngest kid in class, having skipped a grade when he was younger, and he’s never had the habit of fitting in. Who even knows how to fit in in high school anyway? As far as Keith’s concerned, they’re all still figuring this whole “life” thing out. But anyway, he knows he’s an easy target for harassment. Usually he takes care of it on his own; he has his ways of making them go away.
This time, though, Shiro gets caught in the crossfire, and no one will get away with hurting Shiro if Keith has anything to say about it.
He’s been cornered in the hallway, facing the usual scrutiny. Nothing new to Keith, but Shiro’s walking back from the bathroom and happens to see someone shove Keith against a locker. And Shiro being Shiro, always noble, always heroic, always saving Keith when he’s neck deep in shit, decides to step in.
And promptly gets punched in the stomach.
The following scene is a messy one, a bit violent, a bit loud, a bit chaotic, a bit vengeful.
In the end, Keith walks away with a a suspension from school, a slightly bruised eye, and a confident smile.
Funny enough, it’s not the fight but his conversation with Shiro afterwards that nearly breaks him.
They’re outside, as they usually are, sprawled out on the grass. The sun is setting, and the sky is turning deep shades of purple. Bats are beginning to capture the bugs midair, and Keith’s eyes follow them as they do their nightly dance.
“Why’d you do that?”
“What?” Keith turns to look at Shiro, who’s twisting the hem of his shirt in his fist.
“Why’d you punch those guys?”
It’s an easy answer. “Because they hurt you.”
Shiro squints, but doesn’t say anything. He fiddles with the grass for a bit, and Keith watches him, as he’s been doing since he moved here. After a minute, he can’t help but ask, “What are you thinking?”
It’s dark, but Keith can still see Shiro bite his lip and shrug. “I just wish you didn’t get hurt, I guess.” He whispers, “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.”
Keith can feel the sadness in Shiro’s words, and it burns and shatters something deep inside him. “Don’t be sorry, Shiro. You didn’t do anything.”
“Isn’t that the problem, though?”
Keith frowns.
“I should’ve done something.” Shiro gets up and starts to pace. “You just started high school and now you’re suspended and have a black eye and all I wanted to do is help and now you’re-“
No. No, this is not okay. Keith gets up and grabs his friend’s shoulders. “Shiro, stop. Please.”
He stops.
Keith breathes.
The moon watches.
“Look, you’ve been saving me since we were kids.”
“That’s not-“
“Remember when I fell from the tree?
“Okay well…”
“Or when Oliver shoved me off the swings and broke my arm?”
“That-“
“Or how about when you tried befriending the kid who was too terrified to do it himself?”
Shiro looks him in the eyes.
“Do you need me to continue or do you get my point?”
“But this time…”
“Shiro, this time I got to do something for you, okay? Please. No one gets to hurt you when I’m around. At least let me have that if you’re gonna be saving my ass in everything else.”
His mouth quirks up in a small smile. At last, a small victory.
“Okay?” Keith needs to hear him say it.
Shiro looks up at the moon, and Keith can’t help but notice how his face reflects its light.
They really are similar.
“Okay.”
While he’s living it, Keith’s time in Arizona seems like an eternity.
It’s only when he’s moving again that he feels it was barely any time at all.
He’s sixteen, one year of high school left, and it feels like a cruel joke, to be pulled out now. He wants to be angry at his mom, he really does, but Krolia’s made a life here too, has met people, made friends, found herself here, after years and years of upheaval. She doesn’t want this either, but sometimes life just moves in directions you don’t want, and Keith can’t blame his mom for that.
Shiro stops by every day. Well, that isn’t really anything new, but now it feels… different. More important.
Keith feels like there’s a weight on his chest.
He can’t stop staring at him. Something else that’s not new, truthfully, but again, it feels different.
Is everything different?
Outside, Shiro looks through the telescope and smiles at the sky.
No, not everything.
Shiro looks away and over at Keith, their eyes locking. The night air stills.
Just some things, apparently.
Keith’s move creeps up at an alarming speed, and suddenly it’s his last night in Arizona before he moves back to the east coast. He hasn’t been there since he was five, and it’s hard to imagine himself in a place with such harsh winters.
“Do you think you’ll like it?” Shiro asks. He’s sitting on the floor, leaning against Keith’s bed, while Keith lays on his stomach with his legs up against the wall.
“Maybe,” Keith mumbles. He doesn’t want to like it. He’s determined not to like it.
Shiro can tell what he’s thinking. He always can. “Don’t make your mind up yet, okay? I want you to love it there.”
“Why?”
“Because it’ll make me feel better knowing you’re happy.”
He says things like that, sometimes, things that floor Keith and leave him not knowing what to say. “I’ll do my best.”
That seems to satisfy him, and Shiro settles back against the bed. “Good.”
This hurts. Spending this last night with Shiro hurts. But at least he’s here.
“Just because you can’t see something,” Keith whispers, “doesn’t mean it’s gone.”
Shiro doesn’t hear him, but Keith doesn’t need him to; it’s more to convince himself than anything else.
He keeps repeating it to himself the next day; as he hugs Shiro goodbye, as he drives down the highway, when he boards the plane, and when he first sees Boston’s moonless night sky.
“They’re not gone.”
Keith looks up from a box he’s unpacking. His mom is looking out the window of their new apartment, but then she turns to face him. “Remember that.”
There’s so much comfort and assurance in her face that Keith can’t help but feel at least a little better.
She’s right though, of course she is. The next night, Keith receives a text from Shiro. I hope the move is going okay, then, I miss you.
The crescent moon makes her appearance.
It’s going to be okay.
“You remind me of the moon.”
Shiro looks up from his ramen. “What?”
Keith sits at his desk in their shared dorm room, watching Shiro eat. “I said you remind me of the moon.”
“I heard you, but,” he wipes away broth that’s dripping down his chin, “what do you mean?”
“I dunno.”
Shiro stares at him. Keith stares back.
See? This is what Keith’s talking about. His eyes are so bright, and the way he looks at him…
“You can’t just say something like that and then be all cryptic and mysterious, Keith.”
“I can do what I want.”
Shiro sighs.
It’s Keith’s third year in college, and his third year being Shiro’s roommate.
It’s relieving, how life somehow worked out. Same college, same major, same room.
It’s a wonder they haven’t driven each other mad yet.
But that could never happen. It took distance for Keith to realize just what was happening inside his heart.
To love someone this much? It feels incredible. To have the opportunity to be with that person this much? It feels like a gift.
Keith’s gonna hold onto that gift with everything’s he’s got.
It also means that sometimes, just sometimes, Keith likes to say things that fluster his friend. And if Keith’s learned anything over the past three years, it’s that Shiro is easily flustered.
“You look nice today.”
“Oh?” Shiro’s face turns bright red, and Keith does his best to hold back a smile.
“Yeah.”
“Thanks…” Shiro says, then, “so do you.”
It’s been like this for a while, this dance of compliments and assurance that dances on the border of flirting but Keith is too worried about holding onto this friendship to make any real moves or assumptions.
Matt, his lab partner, thinks he’s an idiot, and so does everyone else in Astronomy II, but Keith’s got a future to think about, and a future without Shiro in it isn’t one that Keith wants to dwell on right now.
So they do this dance, and they keep doing it until one night Shiro makes one of his particularly bad puns and Keith just can’t hold it in anymore.
“I love you.”
With just those three words, it’s all over.
Under a full moon, Shiro kisses him senseless.
It’s the peak of the Perseids, an annual event that Keith refuses to miss.
It’s technically his anniversary, after all.
“Remember when we met?” He asks, rubbing the back of his husband’s wrinkled hand.
“Of course I do.” Shiro smiles at him. “Still have that telescope buried somewhere.”
Keith nods. “Mm. Doubt it works. This one will do just fine.”
They have a large one set up in their back yard. Currently, the next door neighbor’s grandchildren take turns looking through it, yelling in awe at each meteor and each recognized constellation.
It makes him happy, that space still brings people together.
Shiro still hasn’t stopped looking at him, and his eyes continue to glow in the moonlight. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”
Keith blushes and gives Shiro’s hand a squeeze.
They sit in silence for a while, watching the stars and the kids and the moon and each other.
“Remember…” Keith says quietly, “remember when I said you’re like the moon?”
Shiro chuckles. “Yeah, and you never tell me why.”
Keith grunts. “I could never pinpoint the reason, just knew it was true,”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
There’s a beat, but then Keith continues. “I think I know now.”
“Is that so?”
He grunts again, closes his eyes, remembers his mom’s voice whispering, “Just because you can’t see, doesn’t mean it’s not there. You’re never alone, Keith.”
Their wedding rings shine in the darkness. The moon sings. Shiro smiles at his husband.
Keith leans back into his chair. “It’s because you make me feel seen.”