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Shiro was angry.
He had been told time and time again that he wasn’t good enough. He had to work four times as hard as every other person who came through the Garrison. Not only was he a young Asian man, but he was also gay and had a disability.
Four things essential to his being, each one making his life more difficult. He’d lived through the skeptical looks, the subtle distrust, the undermining and casting responsibility elsewhere. Sometimes he would purposefully be asked to wait outside while the older “more capable” men discussed what to do without Shiro.
Other times it would be an avoidance of eye contact as his name wasn’t even mentioned.
Shiro was used to this treatment by now. He shouldn’t have to be, but it wasn’t surprising to him anymore when something like that came up. He would just divert his eyes like a good little soldier and hold in any of his true feelings—good points that would either have to be brought up piece by piece each with the correct personnel, or not at all. It had to be perfect strategic planning, or bottling up and storing in the dark recesses of his chest, somewhere it could never be opened again.
He’d perfected this way of living, even if it could be argued that he wasn’t living. That the way he went through life was closer to a battle plan than it was a casual routine. That when he wanted to take any action, he had to examine any potential consequence to ensure that one mistake wouldn’t drag him back past years of clawing his way to where he was now.
And then there was Keith.
Keith looked at Shiro, and didn’t see a young, gay, disabled Asian man.
Keith looked at Shiro and saw the stars.
Keith looked at him and Shiro felt all of his anger melt away. There was more to him, even if it didn’t feel like it. Keith saw it. Keith called it forth from him.
Shiro finally felt the weight of all the pressure and shit other people had heaped on top of him—only because he noticed it’s absence when in Keith’s presence.
Shiro was addicted to that feeling. To feel so light and carefree and like he actually meant something to someone.
Keith looked at Shiro and Shiro knew that there was no one else on the Earth—in the whole galaxy—who could make him feel like he did.
Everything Shiro did, everything he was, he now owed to Keith. Keith was his angel. He rescued him from those who had cast aside and tried to dampen all the light Shiro had to share. Keith basked in it, encouraged it to grow only brighter.
Shiro could stop merely surviving. With Keith by his side, he could thrive .
~~~
Keith was alone.
In the Garrison, he was always the one kid who didn’t have any friends, and any who dared be nice to him quickly found themselves engaged in other activities.
His father had died being the hero he had always been, but that left Keith with no one else. No family. No friends. No one to tell him that everything was going to turn out okay. No one to tell him that he was worth it and that just because people were mean didn’t mean that they were right .
Keith heard nothing but the insults. The ones thrown directly into his face trying to provoke a fight where the blame could be pinned on Keith. The ones whispered behind his back. The ones passed from lips to lips surrounding him in the hallways, the dormitories, the cafeteria.
He had long lost track of just how many rumors and curses and insults were circulating. All he could do was try to not react.
But trying to hold back that dam of force without any outlet or person to help guide him just made the pressure rise higher. It didn’t help that no one listened to his side. No one reached out. Peers and teachers alike would always talk about him, but never to him. He didn’t know what it was like to be seen for who he was rather than who everyone already thought he was.
And then he met Shiro.
Shiro, who looked him directly in the eye and asked him what he wanted to do with his future.
Keith didn’t think he had a future, much less a choice in it.
Shiro looked at Keith and saw a boy with ideas and dreams and fears and a personality that was bigger than the world.
Shiro looked at him, and Keith felt seen and acknowledged. Keith didn’t feel alone or lesser or that it would only take one wrong breath to get in trouble again.
Keith couldn’t resist being drawn to such an energy. A person who actually saw everything he was and decided to stay. A person who helped him work through complications, not by simply punishing him or making him go away, but by hearing his side of things and helping him talk through it in a mature and sometimes complicated manner.
Shiro was his angel. His savior. His guiding star. Shiro was Keith’s life. Keith’s breath. Keith’s soul was at home when they were together.
And Keith wasn’t so alone anymore. He knew that finally, finally there was someone who would have his back. Always.
~~~
Together they were better .
Shiro could finally breathe. Keith could finally rest.
They felt right when they were together. They felt like they were finally full people, respected and heard and cared for. They felt whole.
They felt home.