Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Saturday, 2nd

The ride home from New York was Keith’s favourite part about the trip. They used to go on a plane but that proved to be too expensive, so for the past few years he and Shiro ventured out in the small car they’d only had for so long. Shiro didn’t love driving in the snow, especially when it got overly bad last year. But for some reason tonight was a bit warmer - warm enough for the snow to turn to rain and hit the glass with a gentle tapping. The sound easily lulled Keith in and out of a soft sleep. He really did enjoy being in the car, specifically with Shiro. His brother knew not to bother him (unless Shiro was really that bored, and in that case he just started listing everything he saw that they passed), when it got dark. Sleeping in a car was Keith’s true comfort and it had been ever since they started making these trips. 

Keith curled his knees up to his chest, tugging the soft blanket up to his chin as he allowed his eyes to open to the world ever so slightly. He couldn’t see much behind his bangs but it was enough to allow the passing street lights to pass through - hitting his face with ease. The sound of the radio danced through the air and Keith couldn’t get himself to mind the classical music Shiro had playing. Granted, he actually really enjoyed classical music. But Keith was more of a fan of the energetic, fast, exciting stuff. Shiro probably meditated to whatever was playing. Either way, Keith found it relaxing enough to let it sit in the back of his head as his eyes drifted shut once more. The bumps of the car against the road and small piles of snow left behind rocked him back to sleep, letting dreams of drifting snowflakes, and the warmth of his bed back home play behind his eyes. 

His own mind woke him back up, the subconscious feel of the familiar roads and turns they were now taking shaking him back to reality. Keith forced his eyes open this time and glanced out the window as he sat up a little. The blanket fell to his lap, covering his hands that sat motionless. He recognized each building they passed: the gas station on the corner next to a small pizza place was a main point. The houses were familiar as well and he could even identify the small pothole on the right side of the road that caused the car to bounce. 

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” Shiro yawned beside him. 

Keith slumped back into his seat, gripping the corners of the blanket. “Yeah, yeah. I’m just excited to be back in my bed.”

“Me too, kid. Back in Adam’s arms-”

“Gross.”

“Safe and sound-”

“You can be gay when we get back,” Keith groaned, his tone teasing and sarcastic. Shiro simply chuckled and the two fell back into a comfortable silence. Part of him yearned to be back home, away from the stress of his yearly trip and the unfamiliar surroundings that came with it. But the rest of him grew anxious as all hell just imagining going back to normal. Going back to school, finding a job, to the miserable existence he knew life to be at times. The one consistent thing in his life was Shiro, and he didn’t even want to begin to think about what life would be like without him. 

A soft ping startled Keith away from his thoughts. He pulled his phone from his pocket and squinted harshly at the newfound brightness of the screen. He turned it down, reading the newest notification. 

matt: u almost home?

Keith rolled his eyes, knowing full well that his friend's sleep schedule was as fucked as it was. He’d known Matt since they were kids, having grown up as neighbors their whole lives and refusing to leave each other's sides. They drifted a bit recently but never lost touch. Pidge (Matt’s younger sibling) also started hanging out with the two when they got a little older. The kid was a genius, and Keith would be jealous if they didn’t fit so well as friends.

keith: pulling up in a few. why, you miss me?

matt: gross of course not

matt: loser

Keith chuckled and put his phone down, now a little more eager to get home. They pulled into their block and continued down the last couple of turns until coming to their street. Keith was already getting the array of stuff in front of him together and shoved in his old, red, backpack. He put his phone in his pocket and unbuckled his seatbelt the second Shiro pulled up the driveway and parked.

Shiro stretched with a groan, gathering his own stuff together and he mimicked Keith’s movements. The two got out of the car, bags in hand as Keith was already making his way up to the door. 

“Keith, you still have stuff back here-” Shiro tried to call after him, but he was already fumbling with his keys to open the door. The mess of jingling and curses under breath was interrupted by a tall, familiar figure: Adam. 

“Hello to you too,” the man smiled. He looked tired. 

“Adam!” Keith exclaimed softly through his exhaustion. Adam opened the door and pulled Keith into a comforting hug. The shorter didn’t typically like hugs, especially from anyone that wasn’t Shiro, but Adam got exceptions every now and then. And coming back from a two week vacation was one of those exceptions. 

“How was it?” Adam asked, voice full of genuine care for whatever Keith had to say. No judgement, just a want for honesty. That was a major thing with him, honesty. He never cared what happened in the end as long as he knew the truth. Keith wasn’t really sure why, but he obliged. 

Keith shrugged, loosening his grip and pulling back a little. “It was fine, I guess. Cold, busy, whatever you expect from New York.”

“And Krolia?”

The boy hesitated slightly as he shifted his feet in place. “She’s fine.” He prayed that it would be left at that, and it was. Adam simply nodded, gave a playful ruffle of Keith’s hair, and made his way down the steps and driveway to his husband. Keith adjusted his bag on his shoulder and made his way inside. The air of nostalgia filled his lungs and caused a slight rush to the head. The house was clean, just as Adam liked to keep it while the two were away. It was dark too aside from a single lamp in the living room being on with a gentle glow. A book sat open on the chair as well as a near empty cup of coffee and Adam’s glasses on the small table beside it. 

Keith made his way slowly through the home, boots loud on the hardwood floor as he became aware of the trail of snow (now water) he was leaving behind. 

“Shit,” he mumbled, quickly pulling his boots off and continuing to the stairs. He climbed them tiredly and turned the corner to his room. His safe haven. God, how he missed those four walls. 

Keith came up to his door, fitted with a security camera sign he’d stolen a year or two ago, as well as caution tape wrapped around the frame that he got from a halloween store. He didn’t turn the light on, not needing another jerk awake from the sheer brightness of new light, and he chucked his bag on the floor. He followed suit and collapsed onto his bed - still not made from when he left. At least that was a sign that Adam didn’t come in here when he was away. He groaned into the pillow to no one in particular, not even caring that his door was still open and his phone was buzzing. 

Matt could wait until the sun was up. 

Keith dragged his face away from the pillow and eyed the CD player on the dresser beside his bed. He knew he must have left something in there, praying that too much dust hadn’t settled. He lifted a sock covered foot to the player and stumbled around for the play button. A soft whirring sound came from the device, a sure signal that it was playing something. Keith then moved his foot to the dial and slowly, carefully, adjusted it until the soft sounds of music played in the air. 

It was his old Coldplay CD. He scoffed at the song, knowing full well Shiro would tease him for it in the morning. But for now, Warning Sign was all he cared about focusing on. Well, that and the slight nudge of pain on his chest; but that could wait as well. The warmth of his sweater and caring sound of the heater somewhere in the house was enough to pull him back into unconsciousness. 

~

Keith woke to silence, grateful that he got home before school came back from winter break. No alarm, no Shiro or Adam shaking him awake when he would sleep through said alarm, nothing. It was beautiful. He let out a sigh as he stretched and winced at the sharp pain in his ribs. Instant regret filled him as he rolled his eyes at his own actions. He sat up on the edge of the bed and pulled his sweater off, followed by a few minutes of struggling with the tight fabric beneath. Once the binder was off he immediately shoved the sweater back on, grateful for it’s thickness. Keith let out a couple more breaths of relief at the absence of constriction around his chest and stood up. He checked his phone, the clock reading 11:27 am. He only missed a couple texts from Matt and one from Pidge; all demanding that they see each other before hell started back up again. 

He agreed. 

Keith made his way down the stairs, not caring that he was only wearing one sock, and was hit by the smell of sausage and eggs. God bless Adam and his ability to cook without burning everything. He brushed his bangs from his eyes, not really caring how bad he knew his hair was right now. He didn’t even want to think about how crooked all his piercings were, but the intrusion of such thought made him twitch his nose anyways. 

“Morning, Keith!” Adam smiled as he set a plate in on the table. The younger sat, immediately scarfing down the breakfast before him. 

“Keith, if you eat like that in front of anyone, people are going to think that we don’t feed you,” Shiro said sarcastically from across the small table. He was slowly making his way through a plate of his own, reading a magazine (because apparently people still get those). The very image of the man with his rectangle glasses on, magazine in one hand and fork in the other made Keith huff out a laugh. Shiro looked up, eyebrow raised.

“You look like a dad,” Keith chuckled, mouth full and already nearly finished with his food. 

Adam let out a string of laughs as Shiro feigned offense. “How dare you, I am 26 and very young for your information.”

“I don’t know,” Adam piped in, “you could be a 26 year old dad.”

“You’re 27, I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Damn, one day back and you guys are already at each other's throats,” Keith joked. He finished his food, standing and bringing it to the sink. “Don’t get divorced while I’m gone.”

“Where are you going?” Adam asked. 

“Matt’s,” Keith responded, heading upstairs to find his other sock and layer up. “He’s threatening me to hang out with him and Pidge before school on Monday.”

“Did you have any work to do over break?” Shiro asked as he looked up from his magazine. 

Keith shrugged. “Probably not?” Before either of the men before him could retaliate he was up the stairs and back in his room. He pulled his phone from his pocket and messaged the small group chat with the two Holts. 

holts plus keith

matt: get ur ass over here 

keith: im coming im coming

pidge: please occupy him, he’s been so annoying since you left.

keith: do i wanna know ?

matt: no
pidge: he wouldn’t stop complaining about how bored he was without you. so come rn and take him away before i throw him out of our room. 

keith: how sweet

keith: on my way

His room was a slight mess but he couldn’t find the time to let himself care about it too much. He could deal with it later, just put it off for another day. He knew he’d tell himself the exact same thing tomorrow. Keith didn’t bother putting his binder back on, not around the Holt family. He grew up with Matt and in turn the rest of the guy's family, so there wasn’t any way they wouldn’t know about him. Besides, as much as it sucked not to wear the damn thing, Keith needed to breathe for at least one more day. He hadn’t taken in the rest of his stuff from the car but he didn’t want to bother with that until he needed to. He didn’t mind wearing the same clothes he wore yesterday and slept in, his phone was decently charged - in his mind he was all set to go. 

Keith found the sock that had somehow come off when he was asleep and he slipped it on. He went downstairs to get his boots back on as well, not bothering to put on his winter coat to go just next door. Matt would only want to go outside to shove snow down Keith’s back and he wasn’t quite in the mood for that. He made his way to the door, passing Shiro and Adam being disgustingly affectionate on the couch (aka cuddling. Still gross). 

He stepped down the two porch steps from his house and cut through the snow coated grass to Matt’s. Keith didn’t even bother knocking at the door, used to simply walking inside whenever Matt had him over. 

“Keith!” a sweet and familiar voice called as he entered the house. The woman with short, sand coloured hair came up to him with a smile spread across her face. “Welcome back! How was your trip?” The two were only slightly interrupted by the sound of scratching on the floor as a dog came sprinting to where they stood. Bae Bae, a bull terrier with short, tan coloured fur, jumped up at Keith. She barked a bit too loud as he took a few steps back at her arrival. 

“It was alright, same as always I guess,” Keith shrugged, giving the dog a few scratches behind the ears. That seemed to satisfy the animal enough to calm down a bit. “Had to come back to annoy Matt, though.” Colleen chuckled and made her way to the kitchen, cleaning up her own kids' breakfast leftovers. 

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages, even before your trip. Did you eat this morning?” she asked, care in her voice. 

“Oh, yeah, Adam made us food.” 

“He always made the best food whenever we came over for dinner, didn’t he, Colleen?” Another voice made its way to the kitchen: Sam Holt. 

“Oh, absolutely,” his wife answered. 

“The kids are upstairs,” Sam nodded to Keith, knowing full well why he was here. “Go keep them enough company to leave us alone.”

“Sam!” Colleen exclaimed.

“All jokes, all jokes,” Sam held his hands up in defense. 

Keith smiled, waving slightly as he took off his boots and made his way through the house and up the stairs. He could already hear the sound of the Holt siblings arguing the way Keith knew siblings to do. He and Shiro certainly argued when they were younger, but after everything happened they did so less and less. They had playful arguments, yes, but during that whole time Keith was just angry. All the time. And Shiro got the backlash of it. They were a lot better now, especially since Keith was actually starting to work his shit out. Testosterone didn’t help the anger issues very much though. 

“Stay on your side of the room!”

“I’m not even on yours, what are you talking about?”

“You are! Your whole stupid foot is on my half!”

“No it’s not.”

“Oh my god, Matt, you’re insufferable.”

“Oh, you mean, you mean this part of my foot?”

“Ew! Get that away from me, you actual child!”

“Oh no, my foot is out of my control. Sorry, Pidge, it isn’t my fault.”

“Ugh! How does Keith put up with you?”

“I don’t,” Keith cut in, standing at the entrance to the room. The sight before him was amusing as all hell. The two were both sitting in their own swivel chairs, but Matt was slumped so far down in his in order to reach his foot to where Pidge was sitting. His foot was planted firmly on their face. 

“Keith!” They exclaimed in unison. Pidge stood from their spot and made their way to him, leaving Matt to yell out as he fell flat on the floor. 

“Permission to hug?” Pidge asked. 

Keith felt himself start to collapse at the idea, shaking his head slightly. “Uh… not today.”

“Cool, can you beat Matt up for me?” 

“Rude! He’s my best friend, leave him alone,” Matt stumbled over his words as he untangled himself and stood. He made his own way over to Keith as Pidge went back to their desk. “Welcome back, man.”

“Just for you,” Keith snorted. “Your mom said you guys missed me.”

“Nope,” they both said once again. It was creepy how often they did that. 

“Me? Matthew Holt, miss my best friend when he abandons me for the entirety of winter break each year? Never,” Matt smirked, sitting on his bed as Keith joined him. They immediately fell back into their routine as Matt placed a controller in his hands, picking up his own and going right to Overwatch. 

“No one plays that anymore,” Pidge scoffed as they opened the game themselves. “But I’m gonna kick your ass.” 

“You main Bastion, what are you talking about,” Matt retorted.
“Yeah,” Pidge huffed, “and you’re a fucking Junkrat main. You have no room to talk.”

“We not playing online as a team?” Keith piped up.

“Hm, well I guess we could if you want. I wanna drive Pidge into the ground but anything for you, best bud. Because I love you so much,” Matt gleamed jokingly, earning a short laugh from Keith. 

They set the game up, Matt and Pidge selecting their respective characters and Keith doing the same. 

“Reaper, of course. Edgelord.”

“Be nice Pidge.”

They started the game and played for hours on end, the time flying by way faster than any of them wished it would. That meant the day would end, and school would begin after the next. Keith knew how cliche it was to view school as a prison, but it was to him. He dreaded having to go back and surround himself with the array of assholes that he’d been dealing with for years. He was lucky to switch districts (even luckier to live on the district line between the two schools) before starting his transition. He didn’t want to think about what his high school experience would be like if he wasn’t stealth, if Shiro and Adam weren’t so supportive, if he hadn’t been able to start hormones earlier than most that want to. He was lucky, and he thanked the universe for doing that one thing for him after the shitstorm it seemed to love putting him through. 

In the midst of another game, Matt’s phone buzzed on the bed. He quickly read it before turning to Keith. “Mom’s getting pizza, wanna stay for dinner?” 

Keith gave it some thought, and then realized how tired he was getting already. Not the kind that would drag him to sleep, but the kind that prevented him from the willingness to speak. Social exhaustion would constantly kick his ass and it was growing irritating. It felt like his brain had run out of juice and would start shutting down his abilities one by one. Like something was clogged, or leaking, and there was nothing he could do about it. 

“Not tonight, if that’s alright. Shiro and Adam are probably gonna have a whole dinner planned out and I’m sure Adam will wanna spend some time with me now that I’m back-”

“It’s all good, dude. I totally get it. Say hi to them for me,” Matt smiled, pulling his long hair back into a ponytail. He stopped getting his hair cut around freshman year, partially because he was too lazy to style it when it was shorter, and also to stand in some sense of solidarity with Keith when he started growing his own out a bit. Keith always thought he looked better with longer hair, and was currently growing out a mohawk he had sophomore year. Doing so resulted in an accidental mullet (at least, that’s what this kid in his class called it. A kid he was pretty sure he had classes with since he started school there, but they never seemed to bring up each other's existences), which he didn’t mind so much. However, Keith had grown anxious about having longer hair, terrified that it would out him somehow. 

So Matt stopped cutting his own, and damn did it grow fast. It was past his shoulders now, Keith’s only gracing his. Pidge on the other hand, cut their own hair due to not trusting any hair stylist and wanting to avoid any questions that would come with it. Keith knew that all too well. 

“Will do,” Keith grinned slightly as he focused back on the game. They finished the round and Keith got up to make his exit. “Thanks for letting me invade your house.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Matt stood as well to walk his friend out. “You gotta start coming around more often.”

“I’ll try,” Keith forced a small smile. “See ya, Pidge.”

The teen gave a sharp wave and went back to their computer. The two walked out of the room and made their way to the front door. 

“Keith’s heading home,” Matt notified his parents. 

The two looked up from the kitchen, in the midst of putting out paper plates. “Oh, goodbye Keith! It was nice seeing you again!” Colleen waved. 

Sam nodded, giving a wave of his own. “Don’t be a stranger, now!” 

“I won’t,” Keith returned the gesture and opened the door. 

Matt rolled his eyes, a joking expression on his face. “Yeah, Keith, don’t be a stranger.”

“Whatever,” the shorter chuckled. “See you Monday?”

“Unfortunately. I’ll pick you up at the usual time.” 

“Cool, see you then.”

“Yessir.”

The door closed behind Keith, and he was alone. He didn’t mind it, in fact, he cherished the few seconds it took to walk back to his house. Snow was beginning to fall again, gently and carefully. Keith’s prayers that the car door was unlocked were granted as he opened the back one. He pulled out his suitcase and another small bag, closing the door with his hips and walking up to his house. He somehow managed to pull the door open with his hands as full as they were and he continued on to his room, dragging the suitcase behind him.

“How are the Holts?” Adam called from the couch, Shiro fast asleep with his head on his husband's lap. 

“Good,” Keith answered briefly. 

“I’m gonna make something for dinner, feel like anything specific?”
He’d kill for some mashed potatoes. “Not really.” Ugh. 

“Okay, I’ll let you know when it’s ready.”

“Cool,” Keith responded once again, hoping that Adam wouldn’t think anything of it. If he did, he didn’t show it or at least didn’t voice it. He finally made it back to his room and set the suitcase against one of the walls. He knew he’d have to unpack at some point, but the thought of doing so was embarrassingly draining. The room was beginning to clutter and he’d only been home for a day. Keith eyed the space around him, taking in the small room he’d called home for so long. 

The walls were red; a choice he made when he was younger and luckily never regretted. Aside from the clutter slowly building on the floors, he was actually pretty organized. His walls were lightly decorated with movie and band posters, as well as a few drawings taped up that he didn’t hate. At least not so much so that he felt he needed to hide them with the rest. His desk was small - a glass, art desk he got for Christmas a couple years back. It was lined with sketchbooks he had nowhere else to put, his laptop, his camera and mic, a small stack of books he actually liked, and a small pile of school work he’d been neglecting for a bit too long. His bed had a red and black plaid comforter and regular white pillows, and on that sat a small mothman plush. It was the only one he kept when he got rid of the others. 

For some reason when Keith turned 15 he decided that stuffed animals were both too young and somehow girly for him to keep. He regretted that one.

Keith fell onto his bed, aimlessly looking around as the sun set outside. He clicked play on the CD player and the album started again, carefully breaking the silence of his room. He pulled his phone from his pocket and cleared the few notifications that he had: a reminder he had set for himself to drink water, recommended tweets, a few video recommendations from YouTube, and a new episode of his favourite show was now available on Netflix. Just as eventful as ever. 

Just as he was putting his phone down the device buzzed in his hand, a message popping up at the top of the screen. 

james: ay you back from vaca

Keith thought about it for a second, how he wanted to respond if he even wanted to right away. James was a friend he was a bit conflicted on. They hated each other the second Keith came to the district, always getting into fights and Keith getting suspended for punching the guy in the face freshman year. In his defense, James made a joke about Keith’s mom, and the only person allowed to do that is Keith. She had left for New York just earlier that year too so all the anger he had built up was taken out on this short white kid with annoying brown hair. Hair that he still hadn’t changed since that year. It was shorter and slicked back on one side while the other was a collection of bangs that sat on the other side of his face. His face was just one of those that evoked rage in someone like Keith for some reason. 

But despite all that, they were now best friends (aside from Matt, of course). After their third fight in a year the school was growing tired of having to constantly punish them, and with expulsion on the line they forced themselves to get along. Turns out, James was only that annoying when he was around other people. The two were sentenced to detention and were the only two in the room. The teacher didn’t care enough to tell them to stop talking, so talk they did. James was on the football team already (go figure) and Keith was interested enough to start going to games to watch. He wanted to play but outing himself was too much of a risk. 

Locker rooms and all. 

And so they became friends, pretty close friends at that. James was still kind of a douchebag, especially when he was around the other football players and decided that Keith would be the subject of all jokes that day, but it wasn’t that bad. Keith could deal with it and was more than willing to do so if it meant having more than two friends, staying out of fights and in turn keeping Shiro happy. 

keith: yeah, got back last night. car ride sucked ass though. 

james: i can imagine

james: my family just takes planes so i dont have to deal with that shit 

Keith rolled his eyes to himself and set his phone back in his pocket and Adam called for him to come downstairs. He yelled back a confirmation that he’d heard in response and made his way to the kitchen. He was surprised he hadn’t noticed the smell from upstairs, but it hit him nonetheless. Mashed potatoes, chicken seasoned to perfection, and steamed broccoli sat on the table just begging to be eaten. Krolia never cooked like this, no one did. Not like Adam at least. 

“I might’ve overcooked the chicken, I’m not too sure,” Adam started rambling as he took a seat. Shiro sat beside him. “And I’m not super confident about the potatoes, Keith, so-”

“I’m sure they’re great,” Keith reassured as he sat down as well. He was right, of course. Adam never failed to make an amazing meal and even Shiro was silent from eating so much. Keith found himself zoning out, answering Adam’s questions with pre-programmed responses and simple nods. His social battery was nearly dead and he wasn’t sure how he was going to survive school in just a day; surrounded by cliche cliques of people that peaked in middle school and think being on prom court is the epitome of life. A school catered to cishet people that Keith was forced to be around each day and pretend that “bathroom talk” didn’t bother him. One would think that teenagers were starting to get over their misogyny and overall bigotry, and yet each day Keith is proven wrong to think that. 

Before he knew it, his plate was empty and he was saying his thanks as he made his way back up the stairs. Keith wished his brother and Adam goodnight from the top of the stairs before closing himself in the small bathroom next to his room. He was lucky to essentially have the bathroom to himself, especially considering it was a full bathroom. He turned on the shower and turned to face himself in the mirror. He dreaded taking the sweater off, knowing he’d be forced to face a body he’d found himself growing more disconnected from each day. 

But it had to be done. 

Keith took a breath and pulled the safety over his head, tossing it to the ground. He told himself over and over again in his head how it wasn’t that bad. He could just work his chest out, like Adam did. A small pout rested on his face, eyebrows creased and lips pressed together. He had some muscle in his arms, that much was evident when he quickly flexed to his own reflection. Thank god for weight redistribution, and how going on T helped him gain some of it. It was that damn chest that kept catching his gaze and he let his eyes go out of focus at the sight. 

Keith sighed as he took the rest of his clothes off and refused to examine his lower half in such detail, the analysis of his torso already proving too much for his mind to handle. He put his playlist on shuffle on his phone and set it down on the counter. He stepped into the shower, letting the cool water rush over him. His hair was annoyingly greasy from how long it’d been since he showered last. Four days probably, if he remembered correctly. He cringed at the thought and quickly got to work washing and brushing his hair. 

The shower took a little longer as a result but he felt ten times better when he got out. Keith shut the water off and stepped out, standing before the mirror and wiping away enough of the condensation to see himself from the shoulders up. Acne coated his skin, shoulders, back, and sides of his face. He frowned slightly at the sight but didn’t mind it too much. If anything it was irritating, but oddly euphoric. Even then he found himself poking at his overly pale skin with his fingers, running a hand over his face with slight hope of a sign of facial hair. Nothing. He put the thought aside and brushed his teeth, wrapping a towel around his waist. As long as he kept his eyes up, this was as normal as it was gonna get for him. Once he finished brushing his teeth he grabbed his phone and went back to his room. 

The teen grabbed an oversized band shirt from the floor, tugging it on before picking up a pair of sweatpants to wear as well. Keith put a smaller towel over his head and dried his hair the most that he could before tossing the fabric to the ground. He connected his phone to his speaker, switching the setting to bluetooth as he flopped down on the bed. Keith opened instagram, an app he didn’t have much to do on aside from scroll aimlessly. He did so for hours, seeing random people from school post about their winter breaks and what they got for Christmas. 

He continued on, going past a post by a guy named Ryan in his video and sound class. The majority of that course was full of kids that didn’t care about it at all, just needing the technology credit in order to graduate but not wanting to do something as boring as web design. But Ryan and Keith stuck together in their aspirations to make movies. Ryan was more of the director type while Keith was aiming for cinematography. He didn’t care too much about creating the stories, he just wanted to capture it. Either way they were no more than classmates, they talked a lot up until that bell rang. They sat together at lunch but that was because Ryan was on the team with James and therefore the two were also friends. 

Matt posted a picture with Pidge, capturing them way too focused on whatever they were doing on their computer as Matt posed with a santa hat in the foreground. Keith left a simple comment: “losers.” He carried on. 

Shiro and Adam posted their usual couple cringe, a corny post displaying Shiro gleaming in the bed next to the other and a caption rambling about missing each other while Shiro (and Keith) was away for break. He liked it and left it at that. Shiro’s friend, Allura, also posted her own couple's post because apparently winter was the best time for that. What, with snowball fights and hot chocolate cuddles, curled up watching a movie and whatever else they showed in those terrible holiday movies. Allura was a model so naturally her pictures were crystal clear images of her with her boyfriend, Lotor. He was also a model, of course, and the two were perfect for it. The images of them walking along a snow covered path in the woods, various couple poses mocking Keith if anything. Not that he cared. 

He moved past those and came to a post of a boy he recognized on his timeline quite often, having followed him back in freshman year when he was actually trying to make friends. The post was simple, a picture of him mid laugh surrounded by a couple kids next to a Christmas tree. The glow of red and green light shone against warm brown skin, gleaming even more on wavy hair that rested on his forehead. Keith tried not to think about how pretty the boy was, absentmindedly clicking on his profile. Lance Mcclain. A vague memory played in his head of this same guy in his biology class asking why he had a mullet and he found himself scoffing at the thought. He made sure to connect the name to the face before he forgot. Keith shut his phone off after scrolling a bit through Lance’s account, being reminded that he played the trombone in the marching band and was best friends with a guy he called Hunk. 

Keith’s phone was plugged in on his bedside table before he felt too creepy for going through Lance’s account too much. Before he  knew it, he was fast asleep. 

Monday, 4th

Just like that, the universe was back to normal. The alarm from his phone blared in the dark and jerked Keith from his sleep. It was indeed morning, no matter how dark the world outside was. Keith let out a groan to no one but himself as he pulled the phone towards his face. The screen was annoyingly bright and it took the teen a second to adjust to the few notifications staring back at him. It was all the usual, a bunch of apps recommending videos and shows and a single text from Adam telling him to have a good day at school. 

Adam was a teacher, a college science teacher at that. He was never there on weekday mornings but he never failed to send Keith a good morning text wishing him the best of days. It was a small gesture but Keith cherished it. Shiro’s schedule changed often, but he was typically gone for the majority of the day too. He left late enough for Keith to see him in the mornings, however, so he didn’t mind the couple of hours he was home alone waiting for his brother to get back. 

 Keith forced himself out of bed as he turned on his light. His eyes burned at the brightness and he stumbled around his room for a second before being able to see. Exhaustion coursed through him and weighed him down. The thought of going back to school was almost sickening, but knowing he only had a semester left was somewhat reassuring. Enough to push him through at least. He dug around his room and found a pair of black jeans on the ground, his fingerless gloves, two socks that didn’t match, and a baggy yellow hoodie in his closet. It was decorated with a couple roses on the sleeves and was one of the only clean hoodies he had left. He really needed to do some laundry. 

He looked at his array of shoes on the ground, eyeing his platform boots fit with buckles on the top and spikes on the toe. Beside them sat worn out tennis shoes - he decided on the latter. Keith slipped the shoes on and let out a breath. He picked up his backpack, giving it a quick look through to ensure he had all his folders and the like. It wasn’t a thorough search but he assumed it would all be there. He was confident enough to zip up the back and haul it over his shoulder, slipping his phone in his back pocket and headphones in the side pocket of his bag. Keith made his way down the stairs to see Shiro watching TV in the living room. The news was on, nothing but weather forecasts of more snow and icy roads showing. 

“Morning,” Keith grumbled. 

Shiro turned his head, smiling softly. “Morning, Keith. How’d you sleep?”

“Fine.” 

Keith continued to the kitchen, dropping his bag on the floor and grabbing what he needed for a quick bowl of cereal. The Lucky Charms were nearly out, so much so that by the time he was done pouring it into the bowl all that was coming out was surgery dust. 

“Out of cereal,” he called to Shiro, who gave a sound of affirmation in return. He continued to pour in the milk and eat slowly, tiredly. He glanced at the clock on his phone, reading 6:38 am. Matt would be there in about six minutes. Keith finished his food and put everything away before going back to the living room, standing behind the couch that Shiro sat on. 

“Work today?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” Shiro answered, taking a sip from a cup of coffee he’d been holding in his lap. “Going in at nine so I’ll leave around eight. I won’t be back until around five, like usual. But Adam will be back here around four so you won’t be alone here for too long after school.”

“Sounds good,” Keith yawned. A soft ding rang from the phone in his pocket and he knew it was a message from Matt, alerting him of his arrival. “Gotta go.”

“Have a good day, kid.”

“I’m 18,” Keith huffed. 

Shiro reached back far enough to ruffle Keith’s hair before he could dodge out of the way. “Nah, still a kid to me. Now go on, don’t get into trouble-”

“I won’t,” Keith groaned. 

“And do your work, you’re nearly done! You got this,” Shiro gleamed, giving a wave with his prosthetic arm.

The teen rolled his eyes and went to the door, picking his bag up from the ground. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you later.”

“Not gonna wear a coat?”

“I don’t need one,” Keith responded as he opened the door. 

“Brush your teeth?”

“Bye, Shiro!” 

As he stepped outside he was immediately hit by a gust of cold air and snow in the blackness of the outdoors. Matt’s car sat running in the road in front of the driveway, the horn honking and causing Keith to jump. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he muttered to himself. “Jesus fuck,” he sighed as he was already starting to shiver. He got to the car and got in quickly, buckling his seat belt and greeting his friend. Pidge was fast asleep in the back. 

“No coat?”

“Shut it.” 

Matt simply chuckled and started driving. He had music already blasting in the speakers so early in the morning, The sounds of electric guitars and drums filled Keith’s head as he looked out the window - the two fulfilling their silent pact of “no talking on the way to school”. Pidge was used to the noise and managed to figure out how to stay asleep during her early morning power nap all the way to school each morning. And despite Matt’s bizarre amount of energy he knew not to pour it all on Keith - who was never fully awake until third period. 

The entire morning was nothing more than a blur. He, Pidge, and Matt split up after going through the breakfast line, Pidge heading to her computer class, Matt making his way to his own first course, and Keith heading to study hall. He fell asleep, per usual, head on the table and headphones in his ears. Some random girl that sat beside him would always give him a little shake to wake him up when the bell rang but he never knew her name. He’d go to second and third period, only barely starting to wake up. 

And then came fourth: math. 

Keith entered the room and made a beeline to his seat, a chair beside the window on the far side of the room. As he sat down and slumped in the chair, an all too familiar voice cut through the static in his ears. 

“Kogane!” Keith turned his head to see James heading towards him. 

“Hey, James,” Keith stood, giving the other a light fist bump before leaning against the wall. “Looking as idiotic as always.” 

“Glad to know you’re still an edgy prick,” James laughed and slipped into his own seat. “How was New York?”

“How do you think it was? Crowded, gross, and loud.”

“Right, right,” James smirked. “And Ms. Kogane? How is she doing?” His voice was laced with whatever the hell he dripped it in, Keith knowing exactly what kind of joke was being made. 

“You’re disgusting,” Keith rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. 

“I didn’t say anything- hey!” James found himself interrupted by a harsh shove from Keith, who was taking his own seat once more. “Alright, fine, I’ll just ask her when I see her tonight.”

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?”

“Nah, it’s one of my specialties,” James sat back with his arms behind his head. “Anyways, what do you think of Nadia?”

This one caught Keith off guard. “What?”

“Nadia, sits in the front row, brown hair, hazel eyes, nice ass. What do you think of her?” 

“Uh… I don’t know? Considering the fact that I didn’t know who you were talking about until now, I don’t really care. Why?”

James leaned forward in his seat, lowering his voice. “Heard she likes you, and we need to get you a girlfriend.”

“Why,” Keith deadpanned. 

“In all the years we’ve known each other, you’ve never shown interest in a girl. Half the guys on the team think you’re gay or some shit,” he whispered harshly. Keith could feel his heart pounding in his heart, blood rushing as his pulse only quickened. 

“Oh, fuck off,” he snapped. 

James gave a shrug and leaned back once more as the teacher walked in and began her lesson. The accusation from the asshole behind Keith sat in his head, replaying over and over again. His foot shook in place and the teacher's voice only drowned out more as he continued to think. Finally the bell rang and Keith practically leapt from his seat, attempting to ditch James but failing miserably as he had to put up with the guy ranting about who knows what. The day continued and Keith and James shared the next couple of classes as well as lunch, so there wasn’t any escape for Keith to take a damn breath. Lunch was the usual annoyance, Ryan being the only person Keith felt like he wasn’t being completely judged by. They shared awkward glances and eye rolls whenever James or one of the others said something particularly dumb. But they laughed along and kept to their own. 

Keith liked to think they would talk about it today in their video and sound class but when the time came they talked about the usual: how much they couldn’t wait to get out of the state and go somewhere they could make movies. Keith managed to shove down how much he loved listening to Ryan’s voice, how pretty he was when he talked about his movie ideas, just regular things that everyone thinks about their friends. 

Their interactions ended as the class ended. They waved briefly and went their opposite ways, Keith heading to his final class - biology. He entered the room, grateful to death that Pidge was smart enough to be multiple classes ahead of the majority of their grade. They waved from a table in the back, the one the two always sat at, and Keith quickly walked over. 

“You okay?” they asked. “You look like you just ran a mile to get here.”

Keith hadn’t even noticed how warm his face was. “Yeah, yeah just cold. And tired.” 

“Right,” they stated in return, not caring enough to press any further. 

“How’s your day going so far?” Keith asked, taking his seat and pulling out all he needed for the class from his bag.

“Boring as hell,” Pidge groaned. “I’m tired and I wanna go home. This and my computer class are the only things I care about at this school. Well, I guess astronomy is pretty cool. But I still hate it here.”

“I feel it.” 

A new voice came from across the room as it came through the door, one Keith had almost forgotten the sound of before he played it in his head last night. “I vote that we close down the school and never come back. It’s snowing outside! Safety hazard, obviously.”

“Of course it is, Lance.”

Two boys took their own seats a couple tables in front of Keith and Pidge. Keith never really paid any attention to his classmates unless he had to; aka if there was a group project that he needed more than one other person to do. But now that he was paying attention it was hard to stop. One of the guys (Hunk), was tall and built, and sat comfortably in a beige sweater fit with blue jeans and snow boots. His dark hair was styled in locs that fell on his forehead over a gleaming smile as he spoke to the boy beside him. 

Lance. The very Lance that Keith felt ashamed of for stalking the instagram of just a night before. He radiated the same energy in person, that of an outgoing, goofy guy that Keith honestly wished he could mirror. Lance’s hair was curly, styled with an undercut that Keith was pretty sure only the other could pull off. James kind of had one but it made him look like a douchebag. Lance’s, however, just worked. He had a pair of headphones around his neck over a dark green sweatshirt. He too, wore blue jeans, and a pair of white sneakers. Keith was pretty sure he could spot a set of pink painted nails. 

“Are you staring or daydreaming?” Pidge’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “‘Cause I know sometimes you say you zone out, and I wanna know if that’s the case or if you have some weird reason to be staring at Lance Mcclain. Or Hunk, either way-”

“I’m not staring at anyone,” Keith blinked himself back out of his thoughts and rolled his eyes. He found his arms crossing as he leaned back in his chair. “Zoning out, again.” 

“Just checking, just checking,” Pidge chuckled. “Makin’ sure you haven’t suddenly crawled out of your bubble and are going to abandon me for a couple of strangers.” 

“How could I leave your annoying ass,” Keith smiled with a shove of the kid beside him. “Besides, then I’d have to give up Matt and he’s way cooler than you.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Pidge whispered in a harsh, playful way. 

The teacher came in, announced herself, and started with attendance. Keith found himself losing his focus on Lance, only managing to notice the guy giving him a glance when his name was called and his voice cracked slightly as he called out his presence. Pidge snickered beside him which resulted in a gentle elbow to their shoulder. The class continued and Keith was barely able to retain any of the information being said - so a regular day for him. The only shift was how he was suddenly paying more attention to Lance and Hunk across the room. Lance was really good in this class. 

Like, really good. 

He never raised his hand but he would lean over to Hunk every time a question was asked to the class, showing a small gesture of accomplishment when the answer was revealed. He and Hunk continued this for the entirety of the class and Keith found himself wondering if they’d been doing this all year. If Lance always received a little high five from his friend after each supposed answer he knew. Keith just never had a reason to pay attention to it. 

Then again, what reason did he have now? 

The thoughts flooded his brain, so much so that he barely registered the announcement of a quiz by the end of the week. Pidge groaned beside him, complaining about how they would get everything right and how little of a point there was in quizzes in the first place. Lance across the room looked devastated. 

Which triggered a whole new train of thought in Keith’s head: why wouldn’t Lance want this? Did he not ace every test or quiz in this class? Was he just a bad test taker? There was no way, not with how his excitement blinded Keith when the teacher brought up marine biology being the main focus for the rest of the semester. He nearly forgot to wait for Pidge when the bell rang, so caught up in his mind and wondering why he cared in the first place. 

Saturday, 16th

The next couple of weeks passed by like any other, Keith falling back into the mind numbing routine of school and daily life. He almost missed being in New York with Krolia, despite the awkwardness at least it wasn’t this. Keith slowly fell back into wearing the same hoodie over and over again - a dark red one that he always paired with black jeans and combat boots. Those were always a good compromise, not too apparent of his mental state as worn out tennis shoes, and not warranting as much teasing as his platforms did. 

He never did get around to cleaning his room. The most he did was the laundry when it piled up so much that he couldn’t walk around or even want to spend time in his space. He continued to put up a front with James, play video games with Matt, be awkward with Ryan, zone out and so happen to find his eyes on the Mcclain and Garrett duo. He wasn’t sure why he was so adamant about wanting to talk to them. Any potential reason was too deep for him to consider or want to think about, so the thoughts were pushed to the back of his head as usual. 

One night, Keith found himself feeling a bit more confident than usual in his voice. He was able to hit the higher range of a song he’d been practicing for way longer than he cared to admit. Reaching lower notes when his voice started dropping was exciting, more than anything that he’d experienced in a long time. But in turn, the ability to sing higher notes he once hit with ease was gone. 

But Keith had been practicing, really working on this one. And that night when he picked up his guitar, sat on his bed and plugged it into the amp on the ground, he hit the notes. Sure, there was a crack here and there, but he got the chorus down and that was enough for him. Keith found himself losing himself in the chords as he played, not having to worry about being too loud as Shiro and Adam were on one of their monthly date nights. They wouldn’t be back until at least two in the morning so Keith took major advantage of being able to blast whatever he wanted. 

Before he knew it his phone was propped up on the speaker beside his bed, tilted low enough to only capture the bottom half of his face and focusing on the guitar in his lap. The record button was pressed and he was off. The video found itself on his instagram account, the caption being typed with fast fingers refusing to regret the decision so late at night; “‘All I Think About Now’ by Pixies”. 

Posted. 

He didn’t think much of the few notifications that came in, a couple likes from the people he expected. Not James, never him. But Matt, Pidge, Allura and Lotor only due to how they know Shiro and Adam. The notification that caught him off guard was that from Lance. With all the lack of interaction that they had, in person and offline, this was the last thing Keith expected. He tried not to think about it until Lance had commented as well. 

thereal_sharkboy - very cool 

Very cool. Very cool. Very. Cool. Keith was almost irritated. 

keithkogane1 - thanks man

He got a like on the response and that was the end of it. Keith couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or intrigued, maybe a bit of both. He’d spent nearly a month trying to send psychic messages to this kid during their one class together, trying to get him and his friend to acknowledge him in some way and pull him out of the static of his routine life. And all he got was “very cool”. 

Keith almost messaged Lance but decided against it. Nothing would come of it, no change was going to happen. Why would it? Why did he need it so bad, especially with the amount of change in his life already having happened and how terribly it all went. He couldn’t place his desperation for more. 

Keith’s phone buzzed and he nearly jumped to see who it was, expecting a dumb username and a gleaming profile picture to be in his inbox. But all that sat there was a text from James asking if he wanted to go to a party at his house this upcoming weekend. James had invited him to parties before, not that he ever went. He assumed they’d be the way high school parties are portrayed in movies. A shit ton of random people drinking and smoking a fool of themselves. Not exactly the scene Keith needed to find himself at, but the more he thought about it the more he genuinely considered going. 

keith: maybe 

He turned his ringer off, do not disturb and all, and went to bed. He pretended to be asleep when Shiro came in much later that night to check on him, giving his usual whispered “love you, kid” with a gentle tug of a blanket over his shoulders. He heard the soft click of his phone being plugged in for him followed by the gentle shutting of his door. 

It was the little things that allowed his dreams to calm as he fell back into unconsciousness. 

Friday, 22nd

Keith shouldn’t have come. Part of him wished it was the cliche high school party, but it was so far from that. He knew they probably existed somewhere but apparently here was not one of those places. There was music, booze, a group of people, but it felt more claustrophobic than anything he could have imagined. He recognized each and every face in the room, something he hated more than anything. All he was to them was the short, shy guy that James kept around for some reason. Keith spoke to some of the guys, considering they were the group of people James sat with at lunch, but it wasn’t like he knew more than their names or their taste in girls. 

His binder was caving in on him. The layers he wore were growing hotter and hotter and all he wanted to do was take a step outside, go home, anything. Keith’s leather jacket clung to his arms over a short sleeve, Rise Against shirt. His fingerless gloves clung to his hands. 

Keith wasn’t sure when he got there if he was going to let a single drop of alcohol touch his lips, but before he knew it a cup was in his hand and shitty beer was down his throat. It was disgusting, but he’d never admit that to anyone. He figured the gag inducing aftertaste would die down after a couple cups so he kept at it. He wasn’t sure how much he’d had but it was enough to already start to cut into his sense of balance just slightly. Loud conversations buzzed in his ears and he was starting to drown them out when an arm swung around his shoulder. 

“Keith, everyone!” James yelled, his other hand raising in the air as some sort of celebratory gesture. “For finally coming out of his damn house and hanging out with us. A hermit no more!”

Laughs erupted, drinks were taken, and Keith followed suit. 

“Ever think it’s ‘cause I don’t wanna hang out with your lame ass?” Keith huffed jokingly, earning a reaction from the group of people before him. 

“Damn, Kogane,” James gasped. “Didn’t know you could be such a douche.”

Keith chuckled, worming his way out of James’ arm. “I learned it from the best.” He gave his friend a pat on the chest and walked away, heading to the counter covered in half empty bottles - presumably taken from James’ parents stash. He eyed the drinks, searching for something that wasn’t complete shit. He spotted a bottle of blue, barely a drop taken from it. Keith reached for it when another hand suddenly took it faster than he could blink. His eyes followed the bottle to meet the most unexpected. 

“The fruity shit always gets you messed up the fastest, that’s why they make it taste so good.” A blue turtleneck, black jeans, blue shoes, a loose scarf around his neck. 

“Uh…” Keith couldn’t seem to get anything out. Nothing but spurts of sounds and words that made sense in his head until they left his mouth. Why was Lance goddamn Mcclain in James Griffin's house?

“Oh, hey, you’re in my biology class, aren’t you?” Lance smiled. 

“I,” Keith sputtered. “Yeah, yeah, I think so. 

“Knew it! I’d recognize that mullet anywhere.”

  Any anxiety that had filled Keith’s chest was suddenly gone. “What,” he deadpanned. 

“Yeah, pretty sure it used to be a mohawk mullet, thing, right?” Lance laughed. “Sorry, I kinda stole the look when I got my undercut-”

“Sorry, mullet ?” Keith snorted, forgetting to ask how Lance would recognize him in the first place. Granted, he knew he had a mullet. Maybe not full on but he knew it was the most mullet resembling thing he could have at the moment. But he’d be damned if he let anyone tell him that. 

“Are you denying it?” Lance raised an eyebrow, pouring the blue liquid into a cup of his own. He brushed a couple curls away from his eyes as he focused a little too hard. The tip of his tongue stuck out of his mouth as he poured. Keith held back a chuckle at the sight. He lifted the bottle, motioning it towards Keith who pushed his own cup forward to receive a portion of the drink. It spilled quickly into his cup and Lance set the bottle back on the counter. 

“Yes, I’m denying it,” Keith snapped with sarcasm. This earned a gentle laugh from the boy in front of him as they both took a sip of their drinks. The liquid slipped down Keith's throat smoothly with only the subtlelest burn as he swallowed. Lance was right about the fruity drinks tasting the best. 

He took another gulp. 

“So, what are you doing at a party like this? I’ve seen you hang around James but I didn’t know you were party material,” Lance asked, taking more and more sips of his own. 

“I could ask you the same thing,” Keith retorted. 

“Touche,” the other smirked. “I do James’ science homework, he pays me with drinks and the occasional party invitation.” He shrugged, raising the cup and drinking down the rest of it. “As much as he makes fun of the marching band kids, he kinda leaves me alone ‘cause of how I’m basically the only reason he’s about to get into college.”

Keith nearly choked on his drink at the array of information that just came forward. “Didn’t know he was that desperate,” he laughed. 

“Wow, rude.” Keith couldn’t tell if Lance was actually offended or if he was messing around. He had trouble with tone as it was, and the alcohol surely wasn’t helping. 

“No, no,” Keith rolled his eyes as he realized his own cup was now empty. He grabbed the bottle and quickly refilled it. “I didn’t mean it like that. You play trombone, right?” His cup was draining quickly once more and a slight buzz began to rest in his mind. 

“How’d you know?” Lance said with an amused look in his eyes. “Yeah, and my friend, Hunk, plays baritone. He’s my best bud so he gets James privileges.” 

“Oh yeah no, I know Hunk. He’s the guy you sit next to in biology, right?” 

“Mhm. Been my best friend all my life. Speaking of,” Lance looked around, eyeing the room. “He’s here with me, and I definitely lost him.” 

Keith found himself laughing as he finished off his second drink. He reached for the bottle and settled on taking the whole thing with him. This earned him a raised brow from Lance once more and a slight scoff at the sight. 

Keith raised an eyebrow. “What?” 

“Nothing, nothing. Just hoping you can hold that much alcohol,” Lance shrugged with a slightly concerned smile. “Okay, buddy, I’m gonna go find Hunk. Wanna come with?” he asked.

Keith shook his head, “gonna go to the bathroom.” 

Lance nodded, “alrighty, well, I’ll catch you later, Mullet.” He left before Keith could respond with a quick wink and wave.

The buzz was rising, cheeks flushing, and Keith tried not to think about how drunk he was already. He’d drunk before of course, a decent amount of times with James that is, but it was always beer that he could never finish. This stuff was heaven in a bottle and he loved the way it made the room lag behind him and blur his worries. The house was a maze and he only found James by following the loud sound of his voice. James stood atop the small coffee table in the living room, making some speech about who knows what. Either he was speaking straight up gibberish or that’s all Keith could hear with his head sloshing with alcohol. The bottle hung heavy in his hand. 

Keith watched James speak with ease and an annoying amount of charisma. It was almost endearing to his drunken mind with how the shitty lighting reflected off of James and his stupid hair. James finished his performance, if you could even call it that, and hopped from the table. His button up was open, revealing a toned chest as one sleeve was rolled up his arm - the other not. He got pats on the back from his friends, Ryan giving a quick side hug and handshake before heading to the front door. James made his way through the drunk congratulations and bowed a couple times before eyeing Keith, making his way over once their eye contact was established. 

“Found the fruity stuff, did you Kogane? You sure you’re not a  fruit yourself?”

Keith was too fuzzy to care. “Fuck off,” he nearly giggled and took another swig before setting the bottle down on the coffee table James once stood on. 

Suddenly an arm was on his, leading him away through and from the crowd of people. Keith knew it was James, of course, recognized his touch embarrassingly so. He never really gave James much thought, not unless he was drunk and almost had the courage to be impulsive and kiss a boy for the first time. But he knew how James felt about that kind of thing, it was pretty evident with the amount of time a certain word would spew from his mouth or the array of “clever” ways he could insult the openly gay kids at school. Keith wished he was brave enough to be as open as those people were, to be proud of all things. But he couldn’t and he never would be. He didn’t know where they were going until they stopped, allowing him to take in his surroundings as he realized that they were in James’ room. 

“What’re we doing here?” Keith tilted his head, letting gravity tug it down as he let himself fall onto the bed. 

“Just wanted to get away from everyone, just spend some time with you. We haven’t hung out here since you went the New York,” James leaned against the door, Keith not registering the click of the lock. 

“I guess,” he shrugged, letting himself lay down and stare at the ceiling with nearly closed eyes. “Just been kind of busy.” 

Footsteps approached the opposite side of the best and Keith could feel the mattress dip as James laid beside him. “Well, you’re here now.” 

“I guess so.” A pause. “You’re acting weird,” Keith mumbled. He turned his head to face the other and his gaze was quickly met. The shift in the air was jarring with how quickly it was happening and Keith couldn’t get himself to process it whatsoever. He’d be freaking out if his mind wasn’t so dulled. 

“Am I?”

“Mhm.” 

“How?”

“I dunno,” Keith shrugged, feeling the two lean closer together. He was sure he was imagining it as he spoke quieter by the second. “You just are.” 

Before he knew what was happening, a hand was on his chin lifting his face up and towards James. His eyes were still open when lips pressed against his own, no given time to react. His brain was slush, his body moreso. It felt weird, almost gross if anything, and he didn’t know how to stop it. A light sound escaped his lips but James just pressed back after a second to breathe. This one felt like a shock, and not in the good way people described kisses like. This was a shock back to reality, a shock of common sense and the realization of oh fuck I’m not what he thinks . Keith found it in his muscles to push back, nearly falling off the bed in the process. His eyes felt wide and his face was hot - James had a similar expression but in an evidently different way. 

Keith was breathing heavier than he wanted to, and he saw James sit up as he opened his mouth to speak. This wasn’t anything he wanted to hear, not now. Not in the slightest. So he shoved all energy into his legs and darted out of the room, leaving the door wide open behind him. Luckily he didn’t register anyone else upstairs so no one would know, let alone guess, what had just happened. Keith was questioning it too much himself to want to deal with anyone elses inquiries. He was surprised by his abilities to get down the stairs without falling as he made his way towards the back of the house. The kitchen was his subconscious destination, the trash can being the only thing in his mind as he opened the pantry door and tugged the can towards him. Just like that, Keith had officially gotten so drunk that he was throwing up and trying not to hyperventilate as a result of the feeling and taste, pain in his abdomen not so far behind. He didn’t realize there was a light pressure on his back until he stopped heaving, nothing left in his stomach to get into the trash can. The pressure was moving in gentle circles, and a voice repeated affirmations of safety and questions. 

Keith forced himself to look up, met with the same blue eyes from earlier. Goddamnit. 

“Hey there, Mullet Man, you okay?” 

“Yeah,” Keith croaked out. “Yeah, m’okay.Sorry.” 

“Nah, you’re good, man. Come on,” Lance said calmly, no judgement in his voice to be heard. “Let’s get you some fresh air, sound good?”

Keith could only nod and follow the boy out of the sliding door and into the harsh, winter air of the night. He looked over to a figure in the dark, one that greeted Lance and eyed Keith as the shorter took him in. Hunk stood leaning against the wall of the house, phone in his hand and the screen light illuminating his face. He wore a yellow sweater and brown pants, all fit with a dark, green coat and his locks pushed back slightly with a headband. He looked up at the alerted presence of the two. 

“Lance! Hey, who do you have there?” Hunk’s voice was kind, inherently caring. Keith decided that he wanted to hear more of it. 

“Keith, from biology,” Lance answered. 

“How do you know my name?” Keith found himself saying. “I never even told you.” His guard was officially down and he couldn’t get it back up again. 

“Pretty sure we’ve been in the same classes since freshman year” Lance laughed. “Mr. ‘I don’t have a mullet.’”

“I don’t! You’re just wrong,” Keith spoke, voice coming out a little sadder than intended. He tried to force down the events from earlier replaying in his mind without mercy. 

“You got Keith drunk?” Hunk laughed accusingly. 

Lance stumbled over his words. “What? No, no, I didn’t! I offered him a drink and he took the whole damn bottle before walking away with it!” Lance exclaimed. “Not my fault he’s a lightweight.”

“And the fact that that shit has a pretty high percentage, and we don’t know how much he had before it,” Hunk slipped his phone in his pocket. Keith could only stand back and watch the conversation happen in front of him. The bottle was growing heavy in his hand and he only then realized how tired he was. 

“You said you’re tired?” Lance asked, amusement in his voice. Keith sighed at the fact that he didn’t know how much he was saying out loud. 

“Quite a lot,” Hunk responded. 

Damnit. He felt babied. He didn’t like this feeling anymore. 

“Do you have a ride home? How’d you get here?” Lance’s voice sounded nice at least. Caring. 

“Uh,” Keith paused to think. “Walked.” 

“Where do you live?” Lance continued. 

Keith filtered through his mind, searching for an answer which he finally managed to get out. It wasn’t too far away, about a ten minute walk. But the thought of going that far on his own in this state was draining on its own. 

“Yeah, we’re taking you home,” Hunk chuckled softly.  

“No, no it’s fine,” Keith got himself together ever so slightly. “Don’t wanna bother you guys.”

“You’re not bothering anyone, dude,” Lance smiled. The care behind the grin stamped itself behind Keith’s eyes and he didn’t wanna forget it. He refused to. He replaced the look of James’ eyes with Lance’s without hesitation. “Now, c’mon. Let’s get you home.”

“Are you drunk?” Keith found himself asking as they made their way back into the house and through the array of rooms. 

“Nah,” Lance shrugged, tugging Keith by the corner of his shoulder. “Maybe a little tipsy but I’m not driving. Hunk is the DD.”

“Huh?”

“Designated driver,” Hunk answered. 

Keith nodded to no one but himself as they cut through the main crowd in the living room. Words from familiar voices came and went, none being that of James.

“Alright, nearly there,” Lance cut through the noise, eyes deadset on the door as it grew closer. 

He wondered where James was. 

They stepped outside once more, carefully walking down the icy driveway and heading to a yellow truck parked next to the mailbox. The trio got inside the vehicle, Lance helping Keith into the backseat and letting him lay down across it. Keith curled into himself, regret seeping into him as he thought about everything that's happened. He knew he’d wake up, barely remember anything and then it would hit him. He didn’t want the realization or memories to cement in his mind yet, he couldn’t handle the mental energy he knew it was going to take to think about all this. Let alone talk to James about it.

Lance and Hunk spoke softly in the front two seats as they drove. Keith managed to pick up a few sentences, a couple laughs and the sound of the radio gentle in the air. 

“Well, you said you wanted to find a way to talk to him,” Hunk said.

“Oh, shut up,” Lance whispered harshly. “Not like this, I hope he’s not too wasted to forget everything, but even if he is I’d like it if he at least remembers my name.”

“Did you ever tell him?” 

“No, I don’t think so” Lance groaned. “But he did recognize me, he knew that I’m in marching band and what instrument I play so he probably just remembered from seeing me on Instagram or something. I’ll just... message him later or something and hope he doesn’t think I’m weird.”

“You’re not weird, Lance.”

“Yeah? Tell that to the football team or any teacher I’ve ever had.”

There was a brief pause. 

“He got offended that I told him he has a mullet.” The tension was broken as the two stifled their laughs for the sake of the drunken man in the back. Mumbles fell from his lips as he then had an unregistered conversation with them, the car bumping on the road and radio turned static in his ears. 

Keith found himself looking out the window from his spot on the seat, head down and eyes up. The snow drifted past in flurries and the feeling of the car nearly lulled him to sleep. He almost convinced himself that he was back in the car with Shiro on the way home from New York. The icy roads, streetlights passing by, even the radio just barely playing. Keith missed it. He missed coming home, when there was nothing to go to but the potential of something changing. Of getting his life together for the sake of it all. It was as though the world was trying to tell him that things would never change and that he’d simply be stuck in this never ending loop of life. Each year started the same and now the month was ending as such. It was almost sickening. 

But now, maybe there was something. The new people in front of him, talking with care for his rest. Something was changing, even if it was just for tonight. 

Before he knew it they were pulling into a driveway and a soft arm was shaking his own. Lance’s voice called him back to reality and his head was heavy, spinning in the world. This time it was Hunk’s arms aiding him from the car, large, built arms that radiated warmth. Keith almost hoped the man would never let go. The trio walked up to the front door and Keith dug into his pockets in search of his keys. He found them and somehow unlocked the door after missing the lock a couple times, earning snorts from Lance behind him and a soft chuckle from Hunk. 

The door opened and Keith stepped inside, turning back to the two behind him. He took a few seconds to fully take it in, how two random kids from his class took him home safely without a thought. He almost didn’t want to leave but embarrassment filled his chest. He shot out a quick “thank you” and shut the door. 

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself, running his hands over his face. The leather of his gloves pressed against his skin, warm beneath his exposed fingertips.  Keith tugged his boots off nearly unsuccessfully as they fell to the floor with a thud. He flinched at the sound and prayed Shiro and Adam wouldn’t come downstairs. He went as fast as he could through the hall and to the stairs, clinging to the railing as he climbed them. His room was there before he knew it and exhaustion took over. Keith flopped onto the bed, no energy left in him to do anything but fall asleep to the sound and feel of his phone buzzing a couple times in his pocket. 

thereal_sharkboy: hey! It’s lance, from biology and the party earlier 

thereal_sharkboy: just wanted to tell you not to worry about anything, you kept rambling about feeling bad but theres no need to! Hunk and i dont mind

thereal_sharkboy: anyways just wanted to say that. Sorry if i came off as weird lol 

thereal_sharkboy: you do have a mullet btw, i refuse to back down on that

Chapter Text

Monday, 1st

Keith began to think that he had imagined the whole series of events at James’ party.

Maybe not surrounding Lance and Hunk; even if that was still a bit blurry and way too embarrassing for him to want to be real. But whatever the hell happened with James? At this point Keith was pretty sure it never actually happened, noting the fact that James never brought it up and the two still acted completely normal around each other.

Well, James more so than Keith. Any time Keith would try to hint it towards James, he would raise an eyebrow and make some comment about how Keith was dumb and “said the weirdest shit sometimes”. It was getting aggravating, if anything, especially since his body seemed to remember the events more clearly than his mind - he’d find his heart racing with anxiety any time they got remotely close to each other, or subconsciously pull back and avert James’ eyes at all costs. 

James never comments on that.

So there he was, sitting in Biology and completely ignoring everything the teacher was saying, attempting to keep himself sane. Pidge had tried talking to him a couple times, but at the level at which Keith could feel himself closing off, he didn’t blame them for giving up already. Even when the bell rang, annoying as always, Keith was too in his own head to wait for Pidge as he shot up from his seat and made his way to the door, bag slung over his shoulder. 

“Keith!” He froze in place, hand already reaching up to put in one of his headphones. Keith turned his head over his shoulder at the sound. Before him was none other than Lance rushing to shove papers in his bag and catch up to him. 

Keith raised an eyebrow, stopping in the doorway. Guilt panged in his chest as Pidge passed him without a word. He’d try and remember to text them later.

“Uh, yeah?”

Lance walked up beside him and the two started making their way through the hallways, weaving through the ocean of students eager to get home. “Honestly? Didn’t think this far ahead. But also Hunk is out sick ‘cause he has the immune system of a five year old and I need someone to walk with.”

“For the five minutes it takes to get to the parking lot?” Keith kicked himself for letting his words spill so sarcastically. Why can’t he go two minutes without sounding so irritated?

“Yeah, actually,” Lance chuckled. “I get lonely, okay?”

“Understandable,” Keith shrugged. An awkward silence. “So… how was your day?” 

That was fucking stupid. 

“Pretty good, boring and lonely without my best bud though,” Lance spoke as though they’d been talking for ages. “It’s just a cold but he’ll probably be out for the rest of the week. He gets paranoid about getting other people sick.”

“Won’t that fuck up his attendance?”

“Probably,” Lance laughed. “I mean, he’s talked to his counselor about how easily he gets sick and his mom vouched for him so, hopefully they’ll cut him some slack.”

Keith shrugged in acknowledgement as the two made their way down the staircase, into the open areas, and to the main doors. Lance started making his way to the exit leading to the busses, while Keith stepped in the direction of the parking lot. Adam would be waiting in his car so Keith didn’t have much time to stall.

Keith wasn’t even sure why he wanted to stall, all he and Lance had done was message a few times on Instagram and talked whenever they had the chance (aka whenever Lance talked and Keith listened). Lance was so in his element when he spoke that it was as if it was what he was born to do - and despite usually hating social interaction in general (let alone having to sit there listening to one person give all the input), Keith couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed. With Lance, it was different. 

Keith was so caught up in his head that he almost walked away without saying anything at all, but the voice beside him prevented him from doing so.

The soft jingle of a shark keychain on Lance’s bag cut through Keith’s thoughts as Lance had spun around. “Wait, do you wanna hang out sometime?” he shot out.

Keith turned his head over his shoulder with wide eyes, not sure what to make of the question.

“What?” He felt a twinge in his chest. A slightly familiar twinge that he’d been getting since they started talking just a week ago, only known from their time together. He didn’t know if he liked it or not. 

Lance stood there, long limbs awkward as ever as he picked at a nail. His eyes darted between Keith and the floor more times than the shorter could count. “Do you wanna hang out sometime?” Lance repeated, cheeks flushing a deep red. Keith figured that Lance was obviously more prone to getting cold, maybe he’d bring his gloves to school tomorrow and push through the anxiety of asking if Lance needed them.

Keith stammered through wordless noises, searching his mind for an actual sentence. He settled on a quick nod and awkward smile before darting away. His heart pounded in his chest a little too hard as he attempted to shake the feeling because what the fuck was that? A quick squeak in affirmation and a nod? That forced smile? When did he forget how to function like a normal human being? He also couldn’t seem to work out why Lance was acting so strange, a bizarre sight of Lance Mcclain stammering over his words and cheeks evidently burning. Keith just hoped he hadn’t caught whatever Hunk had, especially if that meant he’d be without a rambling trombone player for a week. 

He realized that in such a short amount of time, he was already starting to enjoy Lance’s company. Keith was almost out the doors when he felt an elbow jam into his ribcage. He jerked his head over, confusingly good mood gone as he was ready to shoot a glare at the culprit. He felt his chest sink at the sight of James next to him. 

“What’s up, Kogane?” This voice was annoying, nothing like the one that could talk about sharks for hours on end in a late night text.

The sharp chill of the air hit his skin, causing a shiver to jerk down his spin and raise the hair on his neck. “Uh, nothing?” Keith muttered, continuing to where Adam usually parked when he picked him up. 

“Want a ride home?” James asked as he followed the other, side by side, arms brushing uncomfortably. 

Keith immediately shook his head. “No, sorry, Adam’s getting me. Thank you though.” He spotted Adam’s car a couple more rows down and started making a beeline. It wasn’t that he was afraid of James, far from it. He just couldn’t prevent the words bubbling in his chest for much longer, let alone the clenching of his fist begging to let out some much bottled up anger at the dickhead bothering him. How dare he act like nothing happened. 

“Since when do you hang out with Lance Mcclain?” There was a harshness in his voice that Keith could barely identify, but even then he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what it was - that underlying tone buried in the question. It felt accusatory, and that was the worst of it. 

Keith was getting fed up. “Since when do you care?” 

James scoffed at the question as though the answer was obvious. “Since my best friend started hanging out with some lameass in the marching band instead of me.”

“You have no right to criticize who I hang out with,” Keith shot back, feet moving faster. The other annoyingly kept up. “You’re the one paying him with alcohol to pass your classes.”

James rolled his eyes and grabbed Keith’s arm, forcing him to stop and look at him. “Ugh, you always get so offended at the dumbest shit, sorry that I want to know why you’ve been so weird lately.”

Keith could feel anger rising in his chest and seeping into his expression. He didn’t bother hiding it: a warning for James if anything. “Let go, dickwad.” His teeth were grinding and he resisted the urge to shove the other as far back as he could get him. 

James surprisingly followed the order but did so with a sharp, demeaning shot of a laugh as stepped back ever so slightly. “Talk to me when you’re done being so dramatic.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, James,” Keith snapped. His knuckles were growing white as he clung to the straps of his backpack. 

He didn’t wait for a response as he finally made it to Adam’s car and slammed the door behind him once he was in. There was a deafening silence between him and his brother's husband, a silence that sat in the air for a few minutes before Adam settled on turning the car on and pulling out of the parking lot. It was as if he was expecting Keith to say something first, not that he’d ever done so. Static filled Keith’s head as he sat in the passenger seat, arms crossed and eyebrows unintentionally furrowed. He could feel a lump sitting in his throat but he refused to cry outside the safety of his own room - or the bathroom at the very least. The whole situation was growing more and more infuriating. It’d only been a bit longer than a week since it happened but it was clawing Keith’s insides apart. All he knew to do was shove it down in hopes that it would disappear. 

“You okay?” Adam finally asked, giving in to Keith’s silence and refusal to talk. He knew it was coming, he was just surprised it took until they were halfway home for the question to reveal itself. 

“Fine.” Well that came out a lot harsher than intended. 

“No point in lying to me when you’re being that obvious, Keith,” Adam responded, a lighthearted tone in his words that Keith wished he could return. 

“Just tired.”

There was a brief pause. “Wanna talk to Shiro about it? He’ll be home in just a couple hours.”

Keith thought about it for a second, contemplating it a little too hard and realizing that he wouldn’t even know what to say. There was no point in talking about something he was questioning the reality of anyway. “No, I’m okay. Just… stressed about graduating and stuff.”

“If you say so,” Adam drew out his words, his indication that he didn’t believe a word Keith was saying. Either way, the younger was grateful that Adam wasn’t pushing. Sometimes he needed it but he sure as hell didn’t want it. Not right now at least. 

They sat in silence once again as they pulled into their neighborhood, Adam pointing out the “Now Hiring” sign outside the small pizza place on the corner. Keith made a reminder on his phone to apply some time soon, even though balancing a job was the last thing he wanted right now. Hopefully some money would be worth it. They got home, Keith wasting no time getting out of the car and bolting inside directly to his room. The second the door closed behind him he let the tears fall. 

Keith didn’t really know why he was crying. Whether it was frustration or pent up emotions from the past week, he wasn’t sure, but he needed to get it out before he imploded. Before the emotions he’d been keeping in since the party found a crack in his armour and seeped out without any control. It wasn’t anything more than a quick cry if anything, just letting some out before sealing the wound and holding the rest in. There wasn’t enough for a breakdown and Keith decided that he would deal with that when the time came.

He let himself calm down as he wiped the tears with the sleeve of his hoodie, a sleeve that was already stained with snot and tears from breakdowns long ago. He just never got around to washing the damn thing. 

Keith took a deep breath and left his room, stepping into the bathroom to eye his face and ensure the lack of evidence of just moments ago. He was met with the sight of slightly red eyes and tousled hair. He immediately cringed at the thought of walking around at school all day with hair like this, not bothered to be pulled up or even brushed. Keith scanned the counter for a hair tie and quickly found one, tugging his thick hair back and forming the smallest bun as his bangs fell from the tie, the hair in the back following suit. He scrunched his nose, moving his septum around and deciding to make residence in the bathroom. 

He took his time cleaning the piercing in his nose, only a couple months old. He cleaned the rest as well despite being older by more months and years. All black jewelry decorating his eyebrow, bridge, coating his ears and slightly stretched lobes, snake bites as well. He stuck his tongue out, imagining something there and making mental plans to get that done over the summer once his septum healed fully. Keith brushed his teeth as well, having forgotten to do so that morning and finished off as he washed his face. His eyes weren’t red anymore, thank god, and he took a breath before leaving the small space. 

Keith made his way downstairs to find Adam sitting on the couch watching TV, some reality show that he’d never admit to enjoying. Keith sat as well. 

“Sorry for snapping at you,” Keith huffed, arms crossed casually. “In the car, that is.”

“You know, when I went on T, I was a mess,” Adam chuckled. Keith opened his mouth to retaliate, to make a point of being on hormones for years already and how he’d adjusted to the anger and frustration that came with it. But Adam didn’t really talk about being trans, so he kept his mouth shut. “I started pretty late into adulthood, I actually knew Shiro when I started. He was there through the readjustment, the ‘not knowing what to do with my anger’, all of it. It took some time but I got used to it and found healthy ways to cope. One of those ways was talking to Shiro. He has a way of helping in that way.”

“Yeah… he does,” Keith muttered. “I’m frustrated, yeah, but it’s not because of hormones or anything. I’ve gotten used to that it’s just… other shit.”

“Okay, I believe you, I just want you to know that you have people here that know how those emotions, testosterone or not, feel, and know how to help as someone on the outside,” Adam turned to face him. “And I know you’ve been on it for a couple years, but that doesn’t mean anyone’s an expert on dealing with anger and frustration and relationships-”

Okay, so maybe he was still struggling with anger issues. “I’m not, there isn’t a-”

“So that boy I saw you arguing with?” Adam raised an eyebrow. 

He found himself wanting to scoff, if anything, in response. “Fuck no- sorry, sorry, I mean just, no he’s not,” Keith stumbled over his words. “I’m not…”

“It doesn’t have to be romantic, Keith,” Adam chuckled lightly and turned back to the TV. 

“Right,” Keith coughed. “I know.” He closed back in on himself at the implication of him and James being anything more than friends. Friends that kissed when they got drunk. Friends that ignored the kiss and acted like nothing ever happened.

Keith felt like he was going insane. 

He had anger issues before going on T, Shiro and Adam knew that one for sure. He just never perfected managing it. He’d gotten better, as he said, but moments and situations like that of the whole thing with James were proving to be more and more aggravating. Keith stood to retreat back to his room despite Adam’s final calls of questioning on how he was doing. The door shut quietly behind him and he found himself falling upon his bed like every dramatic cartoon character when life goes terribly wrong. Keith turned to lay on his back and did the only thing he knew to do: he grabbed the pillow from under his head and slammed it over his face. 

And he screamed. 

Saturday, 6th

Keith took a deep breath and quickly stuck the needle into his abdomen, the only pain being from his slightly shaking hand. He pushed the bottom of the syringe slowly and injected the testosterone. Anxiety about doing it wrong or something happening was shoved into the back of his head, all routine from the years he’d been doing this. When he started, he had Shiro do it. Keith was too anxious to do it on his own and Shiro was always more than willing to give the kid a hand. It was awkward at first, how could getting one’s brother to inject hormones into your stomach not be? But that’s how it went until Keith did it all on his own one morning and went downstairs to flaunt his independence. 

He followed the muscle memory of taking it out, wiping down, putting on a bandaid, and shoving his stuff back into the medicine cabinet. Keith looked back in the mirror, brushing his hair behind his ears as he left the bathroom in his binder and a pair of sweatpants. 

It was still a bit too cold for his liking so he made a point to layer up, baggy sweater from his bedroom floor and all. Keith never liked Winter, maybe when he was younger and too imaginative to notice the gross sludge on the sides of the roads. But now all he saw was annoying temperature changes, dirt covered snow, icy roads, and nothing to do. He’d been to Matt’s a couple times but ever since his friend decided to be responsible and get a job, as well as looking into colleges already, Keith was starting to feel alone. Very alone. 

A soft ding came from his phone. He plopped on the bed and held it above his face, nearly dropping it. 

james: wanna come over

Keith stared at the message for a second and contemplated every little thing that could happen if he agreed or not. They hadn’t talked a whole lot in the past week, just a few passing sentences in class and at lunch. But hanging out seemed like a major step in a direction that would take them who knows where. Keith wasn’t sure if he was ready for that, but he didn’t know what else to do.

He replayed the party's events in his mind and took a breath as he tried to shove it down. Going back into that room? That would surely only make things ten times worse. 

keith: are we going to talk about it 

Keith decided that that would be the only reason he would agree to go to the other’s house, let alone upstairs in his room. He didn’t want to talk about it or acknowledge it even happened, not any more than he was sure James didn’t, but if they didn’t talk about it, he was going to lose it. 

james: about what?

That answered that question. 

Wednesday, 10th

Keith didn’t like finishing books. He’d get so lost in the stories, the woven words that would flow so far from the page that he could barely keep up. He was never sure what to do with himself and it was almost scary how gone he was in the pages, how much of himself he was pouring into the words on paper as he turned them with ease.

Keith didn’t like reaching the end because that meant it was almost over, that the story would be resolved and the characters would get to know their purpose. Their story would be over and they could move on. But Keith couldn’t. He couldn’t just finish his story on the five hundredth page, he had to keep going without a summary of the events or any knowledge of what was going to happen. He didn’t get any foreshadowing for the events to come, he didn’t get to know what it felt like when James kissed him. What was going through James’ head let alone his own. 

He didn’t even know what he was thinking half the time. 

And then there was Lance. Lance and his spoken words and presence that never seemed to falter. Keith was jealous. He wished he had such a presence, such a way with people that Lance was able to carry with ease. Even as much as James hated the guy, it was evident that he was just jealous too. Keith, however, admired it, while James grew angry and relentless. 

School had been canceled today due to a heavy snow overnight, and Keith couldn’t decide if he was grateful for the day off or not. He got a text from Matt that morning asking to hang out, but he never responded. He was starting to feel shitty. 

thereal_sharkboy: guess who just woke up?

thereal_sharkboy: this guy!!!! At a solid 2 in the afternoon

thereal_sharkboy: i think thats a new record

Keith chuckled a bit to himself before responding. 

keithkogane1: mine is 4 pm 

thereal_sharkboy: 4??????? HOW THE FUCK

keithkogane1: i dunno, determination

thereal_sharkboy: well consider me impressed cause holy shit 

thereal_sharkboy: my parents would eat me alive

keithkogane1: shiro doesnt care too much. He and adam have work anyways so 

thereal_sharkboy: thats your brother right?

keithkogane1: yup. And adam is his husband

Keith paused for a second, contemplating the information he was giving away so easily. He was pretty sure the only people that knew about Shiro and Adam that he was friends with were Pidge and Matt. And that’s only because they’ve been neighbors their whole lives. He didn’t even think to ask how Lance would feel about that kind of stuff, resulting in him putting his phone face down on his bedside table to avoid the slim chance that Lance was like James. Comparing the two made Keith feel sick, like comparing the clearest ocean to the thickest tar. James had always been iffy and uncomfortable with that stuff, but Keith pushed past it. And he felt guilty as all hell for it. James only questioned why he never went to Keith’s house a few times and let it go when Keith snapped at him to drop the subject altogether. 

Shiro would be so disappointed. 

His phone buzzed a couple times and it took every ounce of courage in him to quickly look at the notification. 

thereal_sharkboy: cool cool, sorry my memory can be kind of shit sometimes i promise i pay attention lol

Oh. 

That was it? 

Relief flooded the room. 

keithkogane1: nah you’re good, i’m the same way. 

He set his phone down again and allowed himself to lay there on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Keith needed something to do but the thought of sitting up was genuinely exhausting. He was tired of the snow, tired of the cold and the irritation that came with it. He was grateful for the opportunity to wear layers, but he missed the sun and a reason to get his ass up and work out. He missed wearing thick tank tops that took away the need to bind and filled him with euphoria at the slightest sight of muscle in his arms. Keith missed everything that Winter didn’t have. How it reminded him of his mom, how wrong he imagined a house fire looking in the snow. 

Keith squeezed his eyes shut at the thought, refusing to give it any more recognition as his face felt numb and he curled up under his weighted blanket. He wanted to cry but couldn’t seem to do it for the life of him. It felt just like anger, pent up and waiting to explode, but without the ability to do so. It was like there was something trapped behind his ribs, clawing at the bone and begging to be released. The problem was that Keith didn’t know how to get it out, so he settled on pulling the blanket over his head and trying to sleep the numbness away. 

~

The tactic only worked for so long - sleeping through it all, that is. He was lucky to be able to do that and sleep whenever he wanted, constantly being exhausted granted him that ability.

Keith groaned as he turned over, hair falling in his face and his piercings shifting uncomfortably. The blanket was pulled up to his chin and it stayed that way when he grabbed his phone to check the time. It was five in the afternoon, meaning Shiro and Adam were surely home. He had a couple messages, mainly from Lance sending him shark videos. There was the one from Matt that morning that went neglected, and nothing from James. As expected. He responded to Lance quickly with a like of the post sent and asking what kind of shark it was, and forced himself to move to Matt’s text. 

The guy was just asking if he was alright and if he needed to be with someone, and Keith couldn’t even have the decency to say he was fine until the day was nearly over. He knew friends drifted in high school, he just never expected to be the one doing the drifting. 

Keith wanted to get out of bed so fucking bad. He wanted to get up, to do something with his time. He needed to sleep through the sludge in his brain sometimes, but he felt as though he was wasting his life away with it. He couldn’t even get up! How was he supposed to make any use of his existence if it took so much effort just to breathe? It felt as though the world had stopped spinning, as if it was waiting for him to get up and do something. 

There was a soft knock on the door followed by Shiro’s voice asking to come in. Keith thought about it for a second, not wanting for Shiro to see him like this and get worried, but he’d seen Keith in states ten times worse than this. It wasn’t like he needed to hide this side of him from his brother, even if it was just embarrassing more than anything. 

“Come in,” he mumbled. 

The door opened gently, evident that Shiro already knew something was going on. “Any suggestions for dinner?” he asked, skipping over the question of how Keith was doing. They had a silent rule never to ask that question when it was obvious. 

Keith only shrugged beneath his blanket. 

“Okay, well, I think Adam’s gonna keep it casual for once so it shouldn’t be too much.” 

Keith almost hated how well Shiro knew him. “Sounds good.”

“Is there anything you wanna talk about?” Shiro asked without any judgement in his voice. Keith liked that about him, how he never felt talked down to or pitied. Shiro knew about his depression and handled it with grace.. “It’s okay if not, of course, just wanna make sure I ask.”

“I…” Keith cycled through the countless things he just wanted an answer to. Answers he knew no one would have but he still craved them despite that. He wanted nothing more than for Shiro to tell him what he should do with the array of bullshit going on, but he couldn’t seem to get a single word out to express this.

He knew he didn’t have to do everything on his own but he felt so stuck, like his feet were caught in the tar of his mind and Shiro was just a couple feet away. A couple feet too many. “I don’t know. I’m tired.”

“I know you are,” Shiro spoke softly before sitting on the edge of the bed. “I get tired too.”

“I know.”

“And you’re always there when I am, I don’t thank you enough for that.”

Keith shrugged again. “You’re my brother, of course I’m here.” Keith paused. “Loser.”

This earned a gentle laugh from the older as his eyes scanned through the room, on the brink of being lost in thought. “Yeah, yeah. God forbid we have an emotional conversation for more than a minute. Lameass.”

“Adam would yell at you for swearing.”

“That he would. The guy swears like a sailor when you’re not around though.”
“Oh I know, I hear you guys watching your shitty reality shows and how mad he gets when someone he likes gets voted off or whatever.” 

Another laugh. “Hey, it’s entertaining and embarrassingly easy to get caught up in.” A comfortable silence fell over the two and Keith found his eyes growing heavy once more. He didn’t want to sleep, but it was as if a simple conversation with his brother was enough to drain the rest of his energy away. “You can go back to bed if you want,” Shiro spoke softly. “I’ll wake you up when dinner is ready and get you some tea.” There was no room for Keith to refuse if he wanted to, so he gave a nod and curled back in on himself. 

He used to hate being taken care of, especially by Shiro. He felt babied and demeaned at times - as if he couldn’t do anything right let alone take care of himself. But he was slowly starting to accept the help from Shiro when his brain refused to work. He’d never let anyone else do this, not even Adam, but he didn’t mind it as much with Shiro anymore. It was still kind of embarrassing, but Keith was too tired to dwell on that now. 

Saturday, 14th

Valentine's Day. 

Gross. 

Keith had managed to ignore the array of decorations, ads, posts, all of it, surrounding the holiday leading up to it. Maybe he wouldn’t hate it so much if he’d ever spent the day doing anything other than wallowing in himself and being annoyed at couples posts on Instagram. Especially when Shiro and Adam were gone for the entire day, leaving Keith alone in the house or at school when it was on a weekday. But this year was a Saturday, a perfect opportunity for Keith to wander the house alone and put his phone down to ignore the dirt of the day in his face. James was probably having some shitty party, as always. He typically did on Valentines Day and used his parents being out as an excuse to hook up with a bunch of girls to brag about later. 

Keith wondered how much of that was real now. 

Shiro and Adam had the whole day planned out, going to the zoo first and then some fancy dinner date that they both spent too long saving up for only to argue about who was going to pay for it. Keith was betting on Shiro winning this year. 

He was almost glad that he got to be alone this year, not wanting to deal with the inner turmoil of not knowing what the fuck he was. Keith knew he was trans from a pretty young age, but that’s all he found himself wanting to be. He didn’t like the complication of gender identity, and he didn’t want to have to add sexuality onto that. Keith never gave it much thought after he’d accepted his future alone but that doesn’t prevent the confusion and crisis of the whole thing from showing up every now and then. The only thought he was used to allowing of himself was the quick imagining of what it would be like to kiss a girl, and then a guy, or someone aside from that. But this year? It was like his brain was trying to torture him. Now that he had kissed someone…

Fuck. 

Keith laid in his bed, eyes set on the ceiling once more and the frustrating realization weighed on his chest - nearly snapping his ribs clean in half. Shattering in on his heart as it pumped faster in his ears. He already had his first kiss. Keith had his first kiss and he didn’t even want it. At least, he didn’t think he did. He was drunk. James was drunk.

Or was he? Maybe he wasn’t, maybe he was completely sober- no, James was never sober at his own parties. God fucking damnit. The kiss replayed behind Keith’s eyes over and over and over again, suffocating him with the knowledge that he’d had his first kiss taken away from him like that, from someone that was refusing to acknowledge that it even happened. Anger started to flicker in his chest and fists, a spark that he had to shove down before he did something he regretted.

Keith felt sick, like the world was playing some stupid prank on him and leaving him to overreact. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about kissing James before, like he hadn’t imagined that stupid face during one of his sexuality crises. But he hadn’t imagined it like that, and he certainly didn’t want that to be his first. Keith wasn’t sure why, but kissing someone before loving them felt… off. It was like he couldn’t feel the attraction or understand the point if he wasn’t head over heels for them. He could imagine it and want it but when it came down to it, he’d pass the opportunity up in a heartbeat if it meant building that connection first.

He needed it.

And even then, the idea of falling in love was so daunting that he didn’t want to imagine that. He felt broken, like something was wrong with him. And here he was, on the verge of tears over the realization that Keith Kogane’s first kiss was a sloppy, drunk kiss in the bedroom of some shitty guy that earned a punch to the nose as their first meeting. 

This was fucking stupid. 

Keith got up from his bed and found himself moving towards his closet, a full bottle sitting on the floor - a clear image in his mind. He swung the door open and dug through a small pile of laundry before finding the sloshing liquid. He didn’t even care what it was, all he knew was that he was alone in his house with no motivation to do much more. He figured Matt would be alone today as well so he swallowed his pride and sent his friend a quick text. The response came much faster than he expected but he wasn’t too surprised in the end. The two had barely hung out recently, let alone gotten shit faced together. Keith never had many chances to drink anyway outside of going to James’ or when it was three in the morning and there was no chance of getting caught. 

There was a knock on the door, jerking the man from his thoughts and causing his feet to move downstairs on instinct. He opened the front door, bottle in one hand, and he felt a soft yet tired smile grow on his lips at the sight of Matt before him. The guy gleaned sunshine and serotonin, it was almost blinding. His smile was wide and hair tied into a big messy bun on his head. He hadn’t even bothered to put on a jacket as he stood on the porch in pajama pants and a sweater. 

Keith snorted at the sight. “Couldn’t wait to see me that much, huh?” His voice came out broken and sore from its lack of use. 

“Oh, shut up,” Matt rolled his eyes as he stepped inside. “You’ve barely texted, let alone asked to hang out. And besides, I’m here for the alcohol.”

This earned him a quick punch to the shoulder and Keith led his friend to the kitchen just off the entrance hallway. They stood leaning on the island, the bottle now on the countertop as Keith gathered some glasses and cranberry juice. The two wasted no time making their drinks and forcing them down. Keith coughed a bit and complained about the taste while Matt seemed to enjoy it a bit too much.

Matt made himself a couple more glasses, knowing full well how much it would take him to even get buzzed, he was too occupied to prevent Keith from following suit despite his own knowledge of how little it would take him. Time went by a little too fast and before he knew it, Keith’s head was spinning way too much and he found himself letting go of it all. He and Matt laughed and stumbled as they made their way to the living room, connecting Matt’s phone to the bluetooth speakers and playing their music to the volume of their hearts desire. Keith felt the vibrations of the bass and overall noise fill his head as he closed his eyes. He loved this. And he never wanted it to end. 

Matt was screaming to the music playing, slurring his own words and letting his voice be as loud as he wanted as Keith joined in. They joined hands and danced in whatever definition of dance you could call what they were doing. They stepped on each other's feet over and over again, Keith bumped his head on Matt’s chest one too many times and relished in the heat radiating off the other’s body. He couldn’t seem to stop laughing. He blinked and suddenly they were upstairs - Keith was surprised he even managed to make it up the steps. He found his bed and fell straight back on it. The mattress dipped below him and seemed to swallow him up. His blanket was suddenly the softest thing he’d ever felt and he never wanted to stop touching it. Keith found his eyes settling on the ceiling as they always did, but this time it was spinning above him. Almost sickeningly so. Instead of the bare, stark white colour it used to be, it was red and orange with the reflecting sunset entering his room. 

Matt was stumbling around in the bathroom, fixing his hair, most likely.

“Matt?” Keith called out. His voice was unknown to himself. 

“What’s up, dude?” 

Keith giggled at his friend's voice. “I had my first kiss.” There were no consequences registering in his head, not when he couldn’t remember walking up the stairs. He could barely remember how the day had gone prior to that first sip. 

“WHAT?” Matt came darting back into the bedroom which caused Keith to let out another string of laughs. He sat up and Matt sat on the bed with him. “When the fuck did that happen?” His face was flushed red, a look Keith was sure he was sporting as well. 

“Party.” Keith hiccuped. That was embarrassing. “James party.”

“You still go to those?” Matt cocked his head to the side, pouting like a lost puppy. Matt never liked James, and Keith knew that. He was constantly being told all the red flags James constantly displayed, how he’d turn on Keith the second he found out he was trans if that ever happened. Keith always reassured his friend that he was careful and he’d been stealth for years, there was no way anyone that didn’t need to know was going to find out. But Matt still didn’t express any sort of interest in giving James any thought or chance. 

“Well, yeah,” Keith shrugged. “We’re still friends. He’s my friend. But yeah, kissing.”

Matt already seemed to forget any sadness he was once feeling at the drop of information of his best friend hanging around their school’s biggest douchebag. “Who with? Boy? Girl?”

“Mmmmmm… boy.” Keith’s lips were starting to betray him as the small bit of consciousness in the back of his head was screaming at him to shut up.

“No shit?” Matt chuckled. “Well, what was it like?”

“Gross,” Keith said without a second thought, pushing through a straight face. He expected a brief memory to cross through his mind, but it never came. He couldn’t pull together enough cognitive function to remember the event and he found himself smiling at the realization. He couldn’t remember.  

Matt fell back on the bed and Keith joined him. “I’ve never kissed a boy.”

Keith hummed in acknowledgement. 

“I kinda want to.”

“Do you… want to? With me?”

Matt turned his head. “I mean, we’re kinda drunk.”

“Right, yeah, right, we are,” Keith felt his smile falter. He just wanted another chance. “Sorry, I’m being a hypocrite.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing.”

“Doesn’t sound like nothing.” Even in this state, Matt could see right through him. 

Keith sat back up and hugged his knees. The alcohol swishing around in his system was breaking all walls. The dam in his throat held back the tears he was usually so good at shoving down. God, why was he such an easy crier when he didn’t want to be?

“Keith?”

“Sorry, ‘m fine.”

“We don’t have to talk about it, not like this at least.” Matt sat up beside his friend and laid a gentle hand on his back; rubbing circles. “C’mon let’s forget about this right now and go have some fun! That’s what we’re here to do, right?”

Keith hiccuped again, this time swallowing tears and a cry that was attempting to claw its way out. He nodded and stood from the bed with his best friend, hands locked as they went back downstairs to dance. 

The rest of the day went by pretty smoothly, much more so than earlier, of course.

Matt made his exit at who knows what time, as all either knew was that the sun was down and Keith had received a text from his brother informing him that he’d be home soon. Keith didn’t respond, still slightly buzzed and not trusting his ability to text coherently enough to do so. He hoped that Shiro would just assume that he was asleep, just as he was when his brother left that morning. Shiro knew he was struggling, so hopefully he didn’t question the idea of the younger being in bed all day. Keith gathered the glasses and nearly empty bottle, washing the glasses thoroughly and taking the alcohol back upstairs to its hiding place below clothes that hadn’t been washed in weeks. 

Keith fell back into his bed, soft blanket back in his face, and he drifted away.

Thursday, 18th

Keith sat in the art room at school, accompanied by a couple other stray students in uncomfortable chairs with hunched backs. They protected their works with their bodies and Keith was no different. Charcoal coated his hands as the music in his ears thumped in his head, motivating uncaring movements of his hands - gentle on the paper as if he were drawing on glass. He didn’t care about the mess on his fingertips or how he was sure his music was turned up so much, the kid across from him could definitely hear it. All Keith gave a shit about was getting his feelings out on the piece of paper before him. 

He wasn’t liking what those feelings were turning out to be. 

What came of Keith’s movements was a charcoal figure, soft and blended into the page. But there were rough edges and outlines on places that Keith found himself angry at as he drew. The figure was curled in on itself, surrounded by an evident oval full of messy lines and smudges. The fetal position of the figure gave it a hopeless feeling, that it was small and couldn’t do anything about the world it was in. The bones on its back were prominent and its chest was wrapped in thorn covered vines. The limbs had given up the struggle Keith decided it had gone through for so long. 

Keith closed his sketchbook before any unsuspecting eyes could see. 

Saturday, 20th

“Ice skating,” Shiro deadpanned. 

Keith nodded with a pout, eyes locking on his shoes as he tied the laces. 

“You’re going ice skating,” his brother repeated, “with a guy you’ve never talked about.”

“Yeah? What about it?”

Adam could only chuckle in the background as he sipped coffee from his mug. Shiro held back his own laughs - that or he was too shocked at Keith’s sudden show of sociality to let out even a giggle. “Well, you’ve never hung out with anyone besides the Holts and that James kid from school. So forgive my curiosity of lone-wolf-Kogane hanging out with someone else!” Shiro’s tone was as lighthearted as it got, but Keith couldn’t help the blood flow to his cheeks and a soft spark of frustration in his chest. 

“What, am I not allowed to have other friends?” Keith snapped, moving onto the other shoe. 

“Keith, I never said that,” Shiro responded with a light huff. “I’m just glad you’re making friends.”

“Geez,” Keith rolled his eyes, “glad to know you still think I’m five years old.”

Shiro ruffled the shorter’s hair which earned a hardened glare. “Yup, and you’re never aging in my eyes. Now, who is this kid? What’s he like? Do you guys get along-”

“We wouldn’t be hanging out if we didn’t-”

“Does he do drugs? You know you can say no to people, Keith-”

“Shiro!”
Adam burst out with laughter from the table as Shiro continued on his little rant and Keith felt his face grow even hotter from embarrassment. He was saved from the conversation and thrown into a new situation within seconds as a couple sharp knocks rang through the house;  causing all laughter and talk to cease immediately. Keith checked his phone and saw that he’d completely missed a couple messages from Lance notifying him that he was in the driveway. 

“Fuck me,” Keith muttered below his breath. He and Shiro made the briefest of eye contact before rushing to the door, shoving at each other in order to reach it first. Shiro won, of course, with all his height and determination of the protective older brother that he was. Keith simply grabbed his coat and hat, pulling the latter down to his eyes to avoid whatever interaction he was forcing him and Lance to endure. Shiro pulled the front door open to reveal a very awkward, very tall, and very cold Lance before them. 

“Uh,” he started, hands evidently fumbling in his pockets. A gentle smile spread across his lips as he looked up at Shiro - completely unaware of Keith’s presence. “I’m here for Keith? Kogane? Shit did I get the wrong-”

“Thank you, Shiro,” Keith said as loudly and as pronounced as he could, pushing past Shiro and his all too sincere, yet snarky, grin. “See you later, don’t know when I’ll be back, okay, bye.” Shiro had opened his mouth to say something but Keith was already dragging Lance down the porch steps and letting the door close behind him before his brother could get a single word out. The two stopped in the driveway and Keith couldn’t bring himself to look up from the ground. 

It’s like he’d forgotten how to speak now that he was here. Standing in his driveway with Lance Mcclain after what his brain was convincing him to be the worst first introduction to his family for the other boy. With his sarcastic older brother grinning down at Lance and Adam’s string of giggles ringing out from the kitchen, Keith was surprised Lance didn’t bolt right then and there. “I, uh, I’m sorry,” he managed to get out. “I was getting ready and got berated by my brother and I didn’t see your messages and I know how awkward that shit is and I’m-”

“Keith,” Lance stated firmly, earning Keith’s gaze to move up at Lance. “It’s alright.” The smile that graced his lips was the same he wore every time they talked at school. It was a true reassurance that melted the anxiety building in Keith’s chest. Keith finally had the opportunity to take the other in, eyeing his black jeans, tennis shoes, and a puffy blue coat fit with a black scarf and hat. Lance’s curls poked out from under the wool atop his head (the little puffball sewn to the hat caused a warmth in Keith’s chest). Keith didn’t even really notice how many freckles this guy had until he had the chance to really look, but now he was staring and was becoming painfully aware of that fact due to Lance’s raised brow. 

“Hi.” What the fuck was that-

Lance giggled, “hi. Ready to go?” 

Keith mentally slapped himself and his hard exterior’s failure to stay up. He attempted to wipe the dumbstruck look from his face but all that remained was a less than intimidating pout. He nodded, giving a sound of affirmation, and made his way to the passenger side of Lance’s car. The two opened their respective doors and got in, Keith unable to truly calm himself down as an array of thoughts constantly filtered through his mind. The crushing anxiety of the fact that he was hanging out with someone besides Matt or Pidge was daunting, to say the least. He felt the bubbling in his chest, afraid that he was unnecessarily angry about something again, but it was different. This wasn’t anger, and while it was mixed with nerves, it’s something else altogether. He got it with James once, maybe Matt? He couldn’t seem to put a finger on it and it was infuriating. 

It seemed to come up every time he spoke to Lance, and that was just confusing. 

“Could you press play on my phone?” Lance spoke up as he pulled out of the driveway.

Keith made a slightly confused noise in response, which earned a gentle laugh from the driver. 

“Music, on my phone.”

“Oh, shit, right,” Keith got out, reaching for Lance’s phone in the cupholder. The phone lit up as Keith raised it, which displayed a shark wallpaper and the open spotify feature on the lock screen. He pressed play and an all too upbeat tune started playing. Keith didn’t hate it though, he just wasn’t used to electronic tones accompanied by saxophone blasting in the car. 

“Keiynan Lonsdale,” Lance answered Keith’s unasked question. “Pure perfection if you ask me, a lot of his music is just about smoking weed and shit.”

Keith nearly choked on air as a chuckle fell from his lips. “Really?”

“Yup, and it’s beautiful,” Lance went on. “Also one of the prettiest people I’ve ever seen in my entire life. He’s an actor too, I feel bad that he was on the CW Flash; show was absolute shit-”

“Wait, you didn’t like it?”

“You did?” Lance sounded offended, his voice raising with a smile on his face. “Are you kidding me? The first season was fine but it just went downhill from there! And don’t even get me started on the CGI…” The two sat like that the whole drive there, Lance going on and on about whatever he connected to his last thought, and Keith happily listened. He didn’t really have much input aside from the occasional agree, disagree, or question as to what Lance was talking about. It was calming. He didn’t feel the need to say anything, there was no pressure to respond, and if there was, Lance wasn’t showing it. Keith felt like he could breathe, the universe wasn’t on the edge of collapse and Keith could breathe . 

They pulled into the parking lot and were met with a sea of cars full of people getting their last minute ice skating in before the idea of it was forgotten to the summer. The music stopped as the two got out of the car and started making their way towards the building. Keith used the time to focus on his thoughts - thoughts that were continuing to race beyond his own comprehension. Matt would tease Keith relentlessly if he knew what was going on: Keith Kogane going ice skating with Lance Mcclain. Keith had actually texted Matt the other day about his plans, which earned him a whole series of questions he didn’t want to answer. 

The main one being whether or not Lance was the guy he kissed at the party. 

Keith liked to let that one sit in his head, as he didn’t even mind the idea of it. Of course, the answer was no, and to him it would never happen. Keith didn’t even want to think about the possibilities of Lance’s reaction to the trans bomb being dropped. He wasn’t sure he ever wanted to tell his new friend, not with Keith’s assumption that everything would be ruined. This was new, this was fun, and he liked the way Lance was making him feel; even if that feeling was being mixed up with genuine nausea at times. That just freaked him out. 

There was a brief silence in the air and Keith realized that Lance had been speaking that entire time, causing a slight panic to rise in his chest. He had no clue what Lance was saying, let alone what response he was clearly waiting for. This happened more than Keith would care to admit. Constantly zoning out and following his neverending trail of thoughts while the world moved around him was his norm. His brain usually resorted to automatic responses, which didn’t always result in the best reactions at times. Especially since one of those responses is a light chuckle, or a simple “yeah”. Keith wasn’t sure which one would be chosen for him until he got it out. 

“Maybe.” Maybe? Really? Of all things-

Lance laughed at this, causing a small spark of annoyance to light in Keith. He wasn’t sure if it was at Lance or himself, which was even more frustration. “Your shoe size is ‘maybe’?” 

“Oh, no, it’s,” Keith groaned and crossed his arms. “I meant to say seven in men’s… maybe.”

Another light laugh from Lance. “Well I’d hope it’s a seven in men’s, otherwise you’d have some small ass feet dude. Still kinda small, mine is like, an eleven or something.”

“My feet aren’t that small,” Keith found himself huffing. 

“They kinda are,” Lance smirked, swinging his arms excitedly as they walked. “It’s probably ‘cause you’re short.”

“I’m not short.”

“You kinda are-”

“Just shut up, okay?” 

Fuck .

The silence was more than deafening; it was painful.

It sat there for a second until they walked to the doors, Lance smiling gently and opening it to let Keith in first. Keith looked up at Lance’s expression, which was a brief look, but it was enough to see the slightly hurt look behind his eyes. 

“Lance, I-”

“Nah, you’re good, buddy,” Lance shrugged as he followed Keith inside. “I can speak way before thinking sometimes, don’t even worry about it.”

“No, Lance, I’m sorry,” Keith continued. The two made their way up to the front desk and Keith refused to stop trying as Lance paid for their time skating and for the skates themselves. “I just…” How was he supposed to explain the briefest of outbursts? Especially when it evidently hurt Lance? Keith felt his mind turning against him once more, as if it were reminding him that this is exactly why he shouldn’t hang out with people that don’t know him. All he felt that he could do was ruin the few good things he had before he got to enjoy them. As far as Lance knew, Keith was just weirdly sensitive about his height. Lance had no idea the array of small things that Keith focused on about himself and Keith wasn’t sure how to shove that down. 

Keith could feel himself spiraling already and he hated it. He hated how his anxiety was refusing to let him exist like what he knew to be a normal person. Surely Lance didn’t feel this way, not when he seemed so confident. So eager to get out there and just talk to people. Keith couldn’t do that, and he felt the first hint of irritation at himself for it itching at the back of his head. 

“Earth to Keith,” Lance said, suddenly coming into focus. 

“Yeah, yeah, sorry, what?”

Lance handed him the pair of skates and motioned for Keith to follow him. “You okay? You seem kinda out of it today.”

“Yup.” Keith shook everything off of his shoulders and into the back of his head to deal with later. He wasn’t going to let today go bad, not if he could help it. “I’ve just, I’ve never skated before outside of a skateboard on concrete.” He felt a nervous laugh escape his throat as his body stiffened. Keith couldn’t place why he felt like the world was going to end if things went bad or anything less than perfect. He’d been waiting all week for this day and wasn’t even sure that Lance would still want to hang out when the time came. 

But he did. 

Surely that meant something.

“Well, if it helps anything, I don’t know how to skate either,” Lance shrugged.

“What?” Keith looked towards Lance, expression softening. “Then why did you suggest this?” 

“I dunno, thought it might be fun.” 

Keith could feel his worries melt once more, the lack of pressure or expectations soothing his mind. The back and forth of emotions was exhausting but at least he didn’t feel like he was going to implode anymore. He gave a brief nod and gentle smile (Lance appearing more comfortable himself) before the two walked on. 

Finally, their skates were on and they were both awkwardly attempting to get onto the ice. Lance was more daring as he clung to the edge and stepped in, while Keith refused to take a single step. He began to think that Lance was surely lying about never having skated before, judging by how effortlessly he was balancing on the ice. Keith felt himself furrowing his eyebrows in a playful frustration, earning an array of laughs from Lance.

“Come on, it’s not that hard,” Lance gleamed. “See, I have some real natural talent goin’ on here.”

“There’s no way you haven’t done this before,” Keith shot back, inching a foot inwards. 

Lance held a snarky look on his face, the same one Keith had seen Adam give Shiro countless times. “Really? You think I’d lie to you? I’m offended, I really am.” 

Lance’s feigned offense was enough to relax Keith even more as he huffed out a quick laugh. “Well, I’m offended that you’re a secret professional skater, and you just never told me.”

“Oh no, you caught me,” Lance retorted jokingly. “I did all this just to show off, lure you onto the ice, and see you fall on your ass.”

“I haven’t fallen yet!”

“Key-word: yet.” 

A competitive flame rose in Keith, one he hadn’t felt in a while. “Yeah? Who says you aren’t gonna fall first?”

“I’m a professional figure skater, Keith, keep up.”

“Fuck you,” Keith laughed. He moved his eyes to his feet and took a deep breath, finally making the deciding move to plant both feet on the ice as he held onto the rail. Lance stood beside him, taking his hands off the bar to clap which resulted in a brief look of realization that he let go. 

“Oh, wait, shit-” was all Lance could get out as he slowly started drifting away. 

“Come on, Mr. Professional,” Keith smirked, “where’s all that natural talent I’ve heard so much about?”

“Shut up!” Lance’s eyes grew wide as he continued to slowly slide back and away from Keith. “C’mon, just pull me back real quick.”

“Mm, I don’t know,” Keith shrugged as he displayed an unbothered expression upon his face. “You seem to be doing just fine.”

Lance squinted, eyed the distance between them, and allowed a mischievous grin to grow slowly on his lips. His eyes glinted briefly and Keith raised an eyebrow, opening his mouth to question what the hell Lance was thinking when he felt a sharp tug jerk him forward. He hadn’t even registered Lance’s hand gripping his jacket until they were merely a foot away from each other. Keith yelped out at the movement before looking up, the two making direct eye contact as their faces simultaneously softened. Keith found himself clinging to Lance after losing the safety of the railing. His fingers clenched around fabric as Lance did the same. 

Keith felt his ears grow hot beneath his hat and he was sure his face was doing the same. He immediately moved his eyes from Lance’s, searching for any other place to set them. But it was hard when they were so close to each other, when his whole view was Lance’s chest and their arms grasping at the other’s. 

“Well, at least neither of us fell,” Lance got out, voice cracking ever so slightly. He cleared his throat immediately. 

“Mhm,” Keith squeaked out. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-

Neither of them were talking now and Keith was painfully aware of it. Every little sound around them rang out: the tapping of skates on ice, giggles and laughter of those clinging to the rails, soft talks between couples and the solidarity of those skating alone. Even the beating of Keith’s own heart was starting to get louder along with every breath and swallow. He wanted to let go of Lance. He needed to eliminate the awkwardness and let things be normal but he knew he’d collapse embarrassingly if he so much as loosened his grip. Decision after decision raced through his head as the deafening silence sat between them. The world was too loud and yet all too quiet. It surrounded them but didn’t dare interrupt, and it was driving Keith insane. 

He refused to move his eyes from the ground, terrified of what eye contact would do. He was afraid to do anything, really, afraid to break whatever was happening. Keith couldn’t tell if he liked the racing of his heart as he had no idea if it was just his anxiety or something else. He couldn’t remember the last time he did anything with someone outside of his little bubble he called life. Even going to New York was easier than this as he was relieved of the expectation of being anything. As far as he knew, all his mother was met with was disappointment. Year after year, he had nothing to show for the time she didn’t see him. They didn’t call, text, or anything. All she knew of him was what he decided to show for the two weeks they were together. 

So ice skating with Lance? Ten times the amount of pressure chained to his chest, dragging him under the ocean of his self-doubt. The physical contact was enough to make him feel his chest contract, as Keith didn’t so much as shake hands with anyone outside of Shiro, Adam, and Matt on occasion. 

Lance’s face picked up on whatever discomfort Keith was feeling and he immediately pulled back a little. He was still holding onto Keith, but not nearly as close. 

“You okay?”

Keith cleared his throat, eyes searching for something to settle on. “Yeah, sorry I just,” he stumbled over his words. “I just get anxious about... stuff.”

“That’s okay!” Lance exclaimed, hands losing their grip as he started using them more to accentuate his words. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you nervous.” Now he was avoiding eye contact at every cost, which caused Keith to relax ever so slightly. It was comforting to know that he wasn’t the only one here struggling to do the smallest of things. 

“Hey, it’s fine,” Keith affirmed with a slight desperation to find something else to hold onto. “Let’s just go back to the rail - actually work out how to do this.”

Lance looked back with a nervous smile and nodded. The two weren’t too far from the edge but getting back was still somewhat of a challenge. They finally fell against the wall and held onto the metal connected to it, slowly making their way along the outside the rink. It didn’t take too long for them to get the hang of moving on the ice. Keith equated it to the one time Shiro took him roller skating when he was little, which in turn sparked his want of a skateboard that was given to him hesitantly. He didn’t remember much but the muscle memory was there. It was a similar motion to what he’d do with the foot he pushed with, he just had to do it with both feet now. 

Lance made a comment about how it was nothing like anything he’d ever done, which earned a smirk from Keith as he challenged them both to a race. 

“Whoever falls on their ass first, loses,” Keith said. 

Lance grinned and Keith was starting to place that specific smirk as one of competitiveness - of cockiness in the most playful of ways. He knew because he had a similar look, he knew that feeling and it grew inside him excitedly. He loved it, and it was most prominent with Lance. 

That excitement was gone the second Keith realized how stupid he was to challenge them to something like this. It was hilarious on his end to watch Lance flail around like the long legged man he was, but Keith knew he looked just as ridiculous as he tried with everything he had to avoid ramming into people. They slowly made it around the rink once before Lance evidently threw caution to the wind and just went for it . He sped past Keith, nearly causing him to fall over as he hunched over against the rail. Lance was moving like he’d done this all his life and he was already making another lap around the rink. 

Keith felt his face harden a bit as he took a breath. He refused to lose this one, and if he could make Lance fall over in any way, he was going to do it. So he let go of the railing, and pushed his foot like he did every time he got on his board. He pushed his other foot at a weird angle, but it was working. If he just pretended that he was alternating feet with his board, this would work. 

And work it did. 

Before Keith knew it, he was already catching up with Lance. Pride filled his chest as he was ready to brag about winning or at least going faster than Lance. People managed to move out of the way for him, which he was forever grateful for, as there was no way he wouldn’t be running everyone over otherwise. Lance was looking around for him, realizing that Keith was no longer at his post by the exit of the rink. He was getting closer now, so close that it took him too long to comprehend that he had no clue how to stop. 

“Oh fuck-” Keith mumbled as he accepted what was about to happen. He called out a brief warning to Lance - a last ditch attempt to avoid the inevitable. But there was no use. Lance turned around, now moving backwards and without his own means of stopping. Keith put his hands in front of him and squeezed his eyes shut.

Before either knew it, they were colliding painfully and falling to the ground. Lance landed under Keith with a groan, and Keith rolled off him right away to take away the extra pressure. 

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” Keith rambled. “Are you okay?”

“Fine, fine,” Lance coughed out. People passing them stared as they skated around the two laying on the ice. “Damn, you really wanted to win, huh?”

 “Well, yeah, but not by shoving you down like that,” Keith chuckled lightly. 

Lance simply laughed as he sat up. “Can’t believe you’d play so dirty, asshole.”

“I didn’t mean to!” Keith exclaimed, sitting up himself. “I mean, I did win. You hit the ground first, so I told you so-”

A string of giggles. 

“But I’m still sorry,” Keith huffed out. He was closer to the wall so he reached up and grabbed the rail, pulling himself up with a grunt. He reached down towards Lance, hands clasped together, and pulled him up. They were both breathing pretty hard after the whole ideal. Lance was panting through laughs and Keith was starting to follow suit. He couldn’t remember this time he had this much fun with someone, let alone someone he barely knew. 

Well, he did know some stuff about Lance. He knew that Lance liked sharks - a lot. He knew that Lance loved his family, his friends, and the band. He knew that Lance was funny and competitive. Keith knew that Lance was kind and caring, that he was smarter than he thought which caused a pang of sadness in his mind. Lance was good. 

Lance was really, really, good. 

Saturday, 28th

“Happy birthday!” 

Keith and Adam’s voices rang out in their kitchen, lights off and the candles of the cake illuminating the space. Shiro’s prosthetic glistened in the soft oranges and yellows of the fire, as did his face. He held a gentle expression with the softest of smiles as he eyed the two before him. Keith smiled back, and Adam did the same. 

“Make a wish, idiot,” Keith said impatiently. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Shiro chuckled. He pondered on it for a second, giving a small hum of thought before taking a deep breath. He blew the candles out in one go which earned a small array of claps. Granted, there were only two candles sitting in the frosting. Once they got to double digits it was too tedious to put every single candle down, and even more annoying to light them all. So they settled on simple, number-shaped candles. 

The wax of the 27 was starting to melt on the cake. 

“Alright, let’s get those off.” Adam stood and walked over, pulling the candles from the cake and setting them on the island. “Cake first?” He turned the lights back on as well.

“Always,” Shiro gleamed. A small pile of presents sat on the island as well, wrapped with as much care and love as Keith knew was put into them. His sat on the top of the stack - a smaller, rectangular gift. He was never the best at presents, he just didn’t know what to get people. Keith preferred personal gifts, but outside Shiro, Adam, and Matt, he wasn’t great at executing that. He just didn’t know the other people in his life that well, and definitely wasn’t willing to make something cheesy and personal for someone like James. 

Adam got each of them a plate with a small slice placed carefully on it. It was a normal, chocolate cake, which was exactly how Shiro liked it. Keith was pretty picky when it came to food in general, having more of an issue with certain textures than anything. Adam ate anything he could get his hands on. He liked experimenting with food, always an adventure on holidays or those random weekend nights where he’d find some outlandish recipe on the internet. 

“Happy birthday, love,” Adam smiled, pecking his husband on the cheek before sitting down. Keith faked a gag as he started eating. The action earned an eye roll from the adults, but it was all in good fun. 

“Thank you, both of you,” Shiro said. Adam gave a nod in return while Keith resorted to a simple shrug, too focused on his food to do much else. 

That, and his usual waterfall of thoughts swirling around his head. It’s like his brain never stopped, like it couldn’t or it would wither out and die if he relaxed for just a second. It wasn’t as bad as usual, able to get it out through the shaking of his leg beneath the table and for his unused hand to tap each finger to his thumb. He counted each tap in his head. 

Keith’s black, wool sweater fell around him like water - baggy and comforting. His hair was tied up quite messily and his sweatpants fell just over his ankles. Most of his clothes were hand-me-downs from Shiro, which barely fit, but he felt safest in them. It was easier on him when he was younger when the world was falling apart to have the constant of Shiro’s clothes around him. When Shiro was the only family he had but was always out trying to pull everything together, Keith needed a part of his brother with him. 

They all finished their cake around the same time and Adam stood to collect plates, instructing Keith to move the presents to the table. Keith did as he was told, stacking the presents up in front of Shiro and scooting his chair closer. Adam sat down as well, eyeing his husband to get started. 

Shiro grabbed the one at the top which immediately resulted in Keith demanding that he open it last. Shiro didn’t question it too much, so he set it aside and grabbed the next one which was from Adam. It was a small box wrapped tightly in a shining, purple paper; purple had always been Shiro’s favourite colour. He carefully unwrapped it and turned the box inside over to see what it was, eyes lighting up and a smile growing on his face. 

“Holy shit-”

“Language.”

“Heck. I said heck,” Shiro chuckled. He raised the box up for Keith to see. “Where did you get one of these?” 

“I have my ways,” Adam shrugged. “It’s one of the newest models, some crazy technology went into it and I just so happen to have a friend that could get his hands on it.”

“The Holts, right?” Shiro raised an eyebrow. “Sam and Colleen are still in the program, so that doesn’t surprise me.”

“What is it?” Keith asked, unable to read it as Shiro moved his hands when he spoke. 

“It’s a constellation light,” Shiro explained. “Well, I feel like it could fit into more of the hologram category. Either way, it projects space on the ceiling in a more 3D way. Like you could reach up and touch every little galaxy. And you can change what it shows! You can choose specific galaxies, star clusters, stars, solar systems, all of it!” 

“Oh, wow,” Keith breathed out. Shiro’s voice grew with excitement as he spoke, making it all too evident how much he missed the space program. But that was long ago, a dream left behind. 

“Thank you, Adam, seriously. Thank you so much.”

Adam responded in another peck on the cheek and wrapped his arm around Shiro’s prosthetic. His thumb rubbed it up and down carefully, nothing out of place for anyone in the room. Adam’s head tilted down and rested on Shiro’s shoulder, allowing him little room to grab the next present but he succeeded in doing so just fine. They went through the next couple caringly. Allura and Lotor got him new, top of the line makeup products that they got early access to. Some work friends got him books, a mug, some movies; the basic stuff you’d expect. 

Finally, there was one more gift sitting on the table. Shiro eyed Keith, as if he were asking if it was even okay to open. Keith gave a nod as he curled back in on himself, tucking his knees into his sweater and resting his chin on them. Shiro was extra careful unwrapping this one. Keith picked up Shiro’s habit of refusing to rip the paper, instead, undoing each fold and piece of tape. It seemed to drag on forever until Shiro finally got it open, pulling the object out from the paper and taking in a deep breath as he looked at it. 

He sat in silence for a second, residual smile from the previous gifts softening into a look Keith had seen a few times before. All from a time in his life he’d rather not remember. It wasn’t a bad look, far from it. It was simply the memories associated with the painful, soft smile, and eyebrows creasing ever so slightly that Keith didn’t want to remember. Adam’s own expression grew concerned as he glanced over to see what it was, and he shot Keith a look that couldn’t be expressed through words. 

Keith spent hours on this drawing. His hands had grown tired and cramped, plenty of rough drafts and attempts filled the trash can upstairs in his room. He still had charcoal under his nails from some extra details he added just yesterday. It took him over a month to even get started on it, as having to look at the reference for it was just too gut wrenching. The first time he looked at it he threw his phone across the room and sobbed for an hour. The next couple of times were a bit easier, but he never went a day working on it without needing to take a break. 

It hurt too much, but it was worth it when Shiro set it down and got up from his seat. He didn’t speak, none of them did. They didn’t need to. Shiro’s arms wrapped around Keith, who came out from his sweater cocoon to return the gesture. He clung to his brother and dug his face into the crook of Shiro’s neck. They stood like that for a second before Shiro pulled away, holding Keith’s shoulders before moving to ruffle his hair gently. 

His thanks was barely above a whisper, Keith only able to respond in a nod as his eyes darted to the framed drawing one last time. 

Charcoal scratches of Shiro and their dad stood proudly. One of the man’s hands was placed firmly on Shiro’s shoulder, while the other held a very small Keith in the crook of his elbow. Shiro, around eight or nine years old, held an adoption certificate in his hands, and wore the biggest smile Keith had ever seen from him.

Chapter Text

March 1 - 3 Years Later

Keith flopped on his bed as the clock on the bedside table blared in the dark. It was past midnight, per usual, as the smell of restaurant kitchen stunk from his clothes. His binder ached, his pants felt dirty and almost stiff. It was gross, and Keith continued to shove the thought of laundry further back in his mind. He admittedly hadn’t done it in weeks, probably bordering on a month at this point, but he could never find it in him to gather the array of clothes on the floor. Let alone separate them, wash, fold, put away, and repeat the process in another couple of weeks when it would inevitably get bad again. The very idea of it was already feeling immensely taxing, so Keith couldn’t find it in him to just do it. 

That tended to be a pattern in any chore; like dishes. Fuck dishes. Did Keith have a running, working dishwasher? Yes. Did the idea of rinsing, scrubbing, loading, and starting them sound just as bad as laundry? Also yes. And it wasn’t just chores that rang this ping of exhaustion through Keith’s body; it was hobbies all the same. His old skateboard from high school sat depressingly against the wall, drawings and sketchbooks lay in boxes beneath his bed that he still hadn’t unpacked after moving out. Shiro and Adam would never know of course that Keith refused to fully set up in his apartment. They would simply worry too much about him, and he’d put them through enough already. Especially as a teenager. And he knew this - all too well in fact. 

Keith let out a groan as he sat up and slowly started taking off his grease stained work clothes. Food service was fine. It was easy, required no experience, really just takes some basic comprehension and the ability to zone out during a rush. It was never going to be his passion, never was, but at this point it felt like his only option in life. Like it was the only attainable thing in the world. God knows being a musician wasn’t going to work out. Not with everyone in the world’s ability to sing and impossibility for Keith to stand out in the never ending crowd. What was he supposed to do? Go to college for something he didn’t want a place in the industry for? Waste time and money on something that he didn’t want to do for anyone but himself?

Regardless, food service was simple. And it was never hard to find a job. Not with every fast food place and restaurant desperate for someone that wouldn’t quit after a couple days when they realized it wasn’t worth the pay. 

It made Keith’s clothes smell like shit though. He was getting to the point of nausea with how it stuck on the fabric. At least it wasn’t his first job: a pizza place Shiro convinced him to apply to when he was 18. It was on the corner of the street next to a gas station, paid a lot lower than anyone in their right mind would allow, but it was easy. Though, that god forsaken smell on this shirt following him everywhere was unbearable. The second Keith got his license he quit without two more weeks of torture. Fuck his resume, he refused to stay there for longer than he was physically able to. 

As Keith sat up he allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room. His poorly decorated, but still functional, room. He tugged the binder from his chest, essentially having to peel it off like it was a second skin. At this point that’s what it was to him; a part of his torso that he got to shed each night and toss to the floor. Just to scour for it the next day within five minutes of needing to leave for work. He left his boxers on, who would see him ? Other than Kosmo of course, but Keith was certain the dog wouldn’t care at all. 

Keith rose from the bed after painstakingly removing his jeans and made his way out of the room. Kosmo sat next to his food bowl with begging eyes and a light whine as he tilted his head. 

“Hungry?” Keith asked, opening one of the kitchen cabinet doors and pulling out a near empty bag of dog food. “Figured. Sorry bud, another late night. Still getting used to the late ass schedule.” Kosmo merely tilted his head. “Not like you care, do ya boy?” Keith gave the large animal a scratch on the head before filling his bowl with kibble. It clanged on the metal before Kosmo immediately dipped his head down to eat. “Breathe, Jesus,” Keith chuckled, continuing to give ear rubs and another scuffle on the back of Kosmo’s neck before heading to the bathroom. Kosmo was a large dog, a husky at that. It was a miracle that Kosmo somehow seemed to understand Keith’s desperation for him to stay quiet so as to not wake up to an eviction notice for the noise. He’d found Kosmo on the side of the road three years ago, and Shiro just couldn’t find it in him to say no when Keith brought him back. Kosmo quickly became family, through and through. 

Keith flipped the switch on the wall and squinted his eyes in the blaring light, letting out an annoyed grunt before looking towards the mirror. 

Keith’s  piercings had grown in numbers, complimenting a handful of tattoos across his body. His chest was bare of course, as he was saving that canvas for after top surgery if he could ever afford it. Keith wasn’t as bothered by his chest as he used to be, not enough to hate looking at it in the mirror or pulling his skin back to pretend it was never there in the first place. Surgery wasn’t at the top of his list like it used to be. It was still up there, but not a life or death priority. He’d grown… content. Keith envied trans men he saw on social media, with and without surgery. He wondered how they could get to the point of true and genuine comfort with their bodies. He knew he’d get there someday, but it was seeming further and further away. 

He hadn’t talked much to Adam about his transition since moving out. Not like they talked about it much before then. But at least he felt like it was a bond that they shared. Now? It was something Keith found himself afraid to even think of around Adam. Adam was never ashamed of it, it was just something casual about him. A part of his life rather than the main priority as he’d worked his chest out, been on T, never missed a shot.

So what did that mean about Keith?

Just as Keith snapped back to reality his eyes moved to his stomach, noticing that it was a bit too empty. 

“Motherfucker,” he sighed. Forgot his T shot once again. He used to be really good at remembering, desperate to do it at the exact same time once a week with the fear that if he missed even a minute, the world would simply implode. But that sentiment was no longer there. It was becoming easier and easier to forget, work and sleep taking up the majority of his time. And when Keith wasn’t preoccupied with the dread of adulthood? It was reality tv. Eating chips on the couch or doordashing way more than his wallet would care to handle. 

Keith kneeled down, taking a deep breath as he gathered the supplies to get the job done. He followed the routine of cleaning his stomach, getting the testosterone in the needle, taking just one more deep breath and squeezing his stomach before injecting. Wash, rinse, repeat, right? He pushed the liquid into his skin, slowly but surely, pulling the needle out just a bit to fight the resistance of the syringe. 

When Keith was done cleaning up he was debating a shower, but he decided on a no and went back to the void that was his bedroom. The apartment was small, but it’s what he could afford without a roommate. Keith couldn’t imagine living with someone that wasn’t Shiro or Adam, let alone without the two of them combined. He couldn’t lie and say he didn’t miss it, though he’d never tell his brother that. Shiro didn’t need to know that Keith constantly thought about how he’d moved out too fast. Right after high school and everything. That Shiro was right about him needing time and that it was okay to stay until he was ready. But he needed out. Not for any negative reason, not for anything other than the fact that he needed time to explore things on his own. 

Being trans was something Keith never really got to grow comfortable with on his own. The only place he could ever see his body at Shiro and Adam’s was the bathroom mirror. And he needed more space. He needed space to be with himself, to truly find a way to grow comfortable with his own body. That was a priority he made above anything else for a bit, especially with how certain things had ended with certain people. 

Not that he’d think about that, not now, and hopefully not ever. High school relationships rarely end in much more than a bittersweet memory of a perfect person at an imperfect time. 

Keith shoved any thought of that thought right down, not needing the flow of emotion that he knew would come with it. 

Saturday 9

Keith sat upon a small barstool and shifted uncomfortably as he ate a small bowl of cereal. He bounced his leg on the edge of the stool, scrolling mindlessly through instagram. The week had dragged on more than usual and he was starting to go stir crazy. Keith wasn’t the most social of people, but he wasn’t a recluse. He needed some sort of human interaction that wasn’t with miserable coworkers every day on a closing shift. Acxa was the only person there he could bear to be around without going completely insane. She stood by his side when he could feel that boiling anger bubbling in his chest. Any time someone gave him shit, she was there with him to back him up. He wasn’t sure why she hung around him, or why she even cared. 

His phone pinged in his hand and his eyes shot up to the notification. 

Matt: still down to see generals tonight ?

Keith put his spoon down to reply. 

Keith: you know it

Matt: cool cool, pidge is offering to drive if that’s all good with you

Matt: they miss you

There was a brief pause as bubbles turned to words on the screen. 

Matt: dont tell them i told you. I swore i wouldn’t lol

Keith: oh dont worry that’ll be the first thing i say lmaoo dw your secret of their affection is safe with me. 

Matt: doors open at 6:30, good for us to get you at 6?

Keith: sounds good to me. See you then

Matt sent one more text of affirmation before Keith put his phone down to finish his cereal. He’d been looking forward to this concert for forever. Acxa was actually one of the members of the band called Generals, one that she showed Keith, who showed Matt, who showed Pidge. They were still pretty small and always played at a venue in the city. Keith hated being downtown more than anything, but he refused to miss a single show. Plus, tickets were only fifteen bucks each. Definitely better than any large venue event. 

Concerts were one of the few things Keith found himself truly at home at. Somewhere he could be without judgment, despite the stereotypes surrounding the heavier scene of music. He was pretty nervous for his first show that Matt took him too a couple years back, but after that he was dedicated. People were just… nice. They didn’t care what you wore, didn’t care how much you screamed or flailed around, and the outside portion of the venue always stunk of something Keith wouldn’t mind taking a hit of. It was something Keith could use as a social recharge. Nothing about it was mentally draining, just physical. Coming home with a bruise or bleeding nose was more than worth it though. 

Keith eyed the clock: 4 pm. 

He groaned slightly and set his now empty bowl in the sink before making his way to the couch. Kosmo joined him, curling up at his feet and Keith reached down to scratch behind the dog’s ears. Keith opened his phone back up, shooting Narti (another member of the band and a friend he met through Axca) a quick text confirming his plans to see their show tonight. She simply responded with a smiley face, resulting in a light grin on Keith’s lips. 

He never had that many friends in high school, and while he still didn’t talk to that many people, he still had some in his corner. Zethrid was also from the band that he wasn’t as close with, but he’d never turn down a chance to talk or hang out with her. Same went with Ezor, though he had to admit at times her energy was just a bit too much for him to handle. She always understood though, she was sweet in that way. 

Keith scrolled through his feed a bit more before pausing at a post under a name he’d tried so hard to forget about. 

Curly brown hair. 

Bright blue eyes. 

Freckles littering a gleaming face. 

Keith felt a lump start to build in his throat as he attempted to move past the image, but it was to no avail. There was no point in trying to wipe a smile that was stuck in his mind since high school. Since the end of his senior year. 

He could feel the sadness start to rip at his heart, a sadness he hated feeling more than anything. So he turned it into anger. Keith hated the tear stained cheeks and runny noses he’d had for almost a year every night after everything that happened. He hated the amount of times Shiro had to bring him dinner in bed that ended up in the trash after sitting out, untouched. He hated the missed calls from Matt and Pidge, worried about him more than he wanted anyone to be. He hated the pain, the tears, the nausea, the nail creases in his palms from clenched fists.

Keith wasn’t sure why they still followed each other online in the first place. Maybe Lance just forgot to block him as Keith didn’t post much in the first place. But Lance posted all the time . On his story, on his feed, Lance was everywhere. Keith just couldn’t bring himself to let go. Not in that way, at least. Not in the way that meant he’d never see the other again, that he’d have to rely on his own shitty memory to hear Lance’s laugh or see his smile. That stupid smile. 

The post was simple, not anything all that different than what he usually posted nowadays. Lance was posed in front of a large building, holding up a peace sign and winking at the camera as he flaunted a university sweatshirt. The caption read something about starting his final year in college soon, happy to be there, grateful for his friends and family, blah… blah… blah. 

Keith turned his phone off. 

He grabbed the remote to the (very small) TV sitting across from him, turning it on and flipping through the channels for the next hour. He almost fell asleep after landing on some shitty reality show but Kosmo jerked him awake. The dog sat mere centimeters from Keith’s face, their noses almost touching. Keith let out a yelp at the sight and nearly fell from the couch.

“Jesus, Kosmo!” he breathed out and reached up to scratch Kosmo’s ears once more. “You scared the fuck out of me. Wanna go on a walk?”

Kosmo leapt from Keith’s chest at the final word, spinning in circles and making soft barks of excitement. Keith laughed as he got up, grabbing the leash from a hook on a wall and tugging on an old pair of sneakers. He held a hair tie in his mouth as he hooked the leash to Kosmo’s collar, then slipped the loop end of the leash around his own wrist. Keith pulled his hair back, messily at that, into a loose ponytail. His hair had gotten quite long, and his bangs definitely needed a trim. But honestly? He liked it that way. 

“Ready?” Keith asked with a smile and adjusted his hoodie. Kosmo continued to pace at the door in response, tail wagging as Keith opened it. They made their way outside, behind the building to an open area of grass. 

As Keith stood there, Kosmo doing his business, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Pidge’s name shone on the screen. 

Keith quickly picked up. “Hello?”

“Hey loser!” Pidge greeted him enthusiastically. 

Keith rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. What’s up?”

“You good for us to pick you up at six? I’m driving so don’t worry about sending me gas money like you always do .”

“But I-”

“Don’t care! I really don’t, so stop trying. Can you block someones cashapp? Cause I swear to god if I get one more notification from you I’ll kill you.”

Keith laughed at that. “Okay, okay! Fine, no money.”

“If you do want to pay me though, we just ran out of the goods if you know what I mean .”

“Yes Pidge, I’ll bring you weed. Jesus.”

“Great, perfect, that’s all I need.”

“That’s why you called? I mean Matt already told me when you guys were coming, did he not tell you?”

Pidge scoffed at the idea. “Matt? Tell me what’s going on? You think too highly of him. But no, despite what you may think I actually care about you and want to make sure you’re doing okay.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

There was a brief moment of silence as Keith could hear Pidge take in a deep breath over the phone. “I just, I haven’t seen you in a while. I mean we’ve gone to some concerts but you don’t talk to me much so… I just wanted to make sure you’re good.”

“I’m fine, Pidge. Really.” Now Keith was the one taking a second to think. “Just, busy with work is all.”

“You know you can talk to me, right? I know I’m not as cool as Matt but I’m… yknow. I’m still here dude.”

Keith felt a sharpness of guilt in his chest and he clung to the handle of Kosmo’s leash. “I know, Pidge.”

Awkward silence.

“Matt told me you missed me so-”

“That motherfucker-”

“Bye Pidge, see you at six,” Keith managed a laugh as he hung up the phone. He let out a sigh of relief having hopefully avoided the “are you okay” interrogation for the millionth time. He was sure he’d get some variation of it in the car on the way there, though he was praying it would slip by this time. He hated the idea of his friends knowing when he wasn’t okay. Keith took some semblance of pride in his ability to ignore his problems, but he forgot how well Matt and Pidge knew him. 

Sometimes he wished they’d leave him alone. 

But he knew nothing good would come from that. 

Keith shook the thoughts from his head. He cleaned up after Kosmo like the responsible pet owner he was and went back inside. 

Locking the door behind him, he made his way to the bathroom. He now had about thirty minutes to get ready, and applying corpse paint could always be rushed. It wasn’t really the point to make it perfect, so he always left it for his last task when getting ready. Keith put his playlist on shuffle, and took a record time shower of ten minutes. Though the hot water was tempting to wallow in, the excitement of the concert was filling his chest minute by minute. He refused to miss it, and he needed it more than anything. He needed the booming speakers, strained vocal chords and aching neck. Keith craved it. 

After a shower he searched his room and closet for clothes that would pass as somewhat clean. He settled on baggy ripped jeans, nonslip boots (he’d learned his lesson about wearing platform boots in a mosh pit), and some random band shirt sitting in a pile at the foot of his bed. Keith started layering his accessories: countless bracelets and a loose choker, followed by chains hanging from his belt and his old pair of fingerless gloves. He went to the bathroom and laid his eyes on himself in the mirror. 

His eyebags had gotten bad again, but it would soon be hidden by black face paint and smudged eyeshadow. Keith’s piercings all managed to match each other, black jewelry finally filling all the spots he’d planned on filling out: snack bites, both eyebrows, bridge, both nostrils, septum, and of course his tongue. His ears were covered too, and he was proud to say they’d all healed perfectly. He was still stretching his ears, but learned to take his time after Pidge fucked theirs up last year. They were building it back, but stretching ears was more than a pain in the ass that required a lot more patience than Keith wanted to admit he had. 

Keith also had a handful of tattoos now, some stick and pokes from Pidge on his ankles and wrist, but the rest were thankfully professionally done. Shiro hated the one he’d gotten on his neck, saying it would keep him from getting a job and whatnot, but Keith worked in food service. Tattoos were a right of passage in the kitchen. 

Keith took the hair tie out and let it fall to the counter next to the sink. He replaced it with a temporary headband as he pulled out his makeup bin from the cabinet below the sink. The paint was cold against his skin, and he hastily covered his eyes, made a skeletal shape of a hole for his nose, and covered his lips. He dragged the paint in curves going up from his lips to form a false smile, and made the circles of paint over his eyes go above his eyebrows and to his cheekbones. Once he was content with the messy shapes of black, he pulled out eyeliner for some detail. Corpse paint wasn’t a detailed look, so he wasn’t sure if that was the right classification for the look now taking shape on his face. But it was his, and no one cared all that much as it was going to sweat off by the end of the night. Keith added countless lines branching off each major patch of paint before deciding he was done. He removed the headband and shook his hair, running through it with his hands and caring all too much about how it fell on his forehead. 

Messy black hair fell to his shoulders and his bangs graced his eyebrows. Keith adjusted the strands above his eyes every so slightly, at the very least so he could see where he was walking knowing all too well that it was going to coat his vision once more within the next hour. 

Keith checked the time once more, making perfect timing. 

Matt: we’re hereeeeeeeeeeeeee

Keith gathered his things, double checking for the essentials in his pockets. He’d almost forgotten his payment to Pidge as he saw the pen sitting on his dresser. He grabbed it, shoved it in his pocket next to his phone and wallet, and threw on a denim jacket that he’d cut the sleeves off of. It was covered in buttons and poorly sewn on patches, as well as a few doodles painted on by Pidge. 

Keith gave Kosmo a pat and kiss goodbye, snatched his keys from the hook beside the door, and left. 

Pidge’s car sat in the parking spot next to Keith’s bike. It was an older car, but certainly not anything to make fun of. The faded green shone nicely in the setting sun and Pidge honked the horn one too many times as Keith approached it. Matt sat in the passenger, and Keith could hear the two yelling in excitement and hollering at his arrival. He pulled open the door to the backset and got in. 

“Oooooo! Lookin good, Kogane!” Matt whistled. 

“Just admit you two are gay lovers and let’s move on,” Pidge groaned. They smiled all the same. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Keith chuckled. “You’re just as gay as I am.”

“Payment?” They waved their hand back, ignoring Keith’s comment and earning a gawk from their brother beside them.

“Uh, no, no,” Matt scoffed. “Not when you’re driving, idiot.”

“I never said I was gonna hit it now!”

“Yeah, sure.”

Keith waved the device in front of Pidge and held it back from their grip. “And you say I’m dependent,” he said with a laugh. He made himself comfortable in the seat before bringing the pen to his lips, taking a long drag from the device and blowing smoke in Pidge’s direction. 

“Soon, my beloved,” Pidge mourned from their seat. “Seriously though, it’s nice seeing you, man.” Pidge smiled genuinely, a quick break from their usual scrunched nose and furrowed brows. Keith returned the smile. 

Pidge’s hair was longer than Keith’s and they wore it pulled back in a high ponytail. Tufts fell in front of their ears and on their forehead, the bleached blond hiding hazelnut roots. They wore a long sleeve fishnet top with a short sleeve band tee covering their torso, followed by black jeans and heavy boots. Their eyes were adorned with large black wings on their eyelids, accompanied by shining black lipstick. Matt beside them wasn’t nearly as dressed up, as he’d always preferred a regular shirt and blue jeans. It was almost deceiving to the crowds that would soon be around them, but he was always the first to start a pit. If there wasn’t one, it was usually just him in the middle of the floor jumping around and urging Keith and Pidge to follow. 

As Keith admired his friends before him, he felt the brain fog begin to settle in. It wasn’t all that much compared to what he was used to doing at home as he binged guilty pleasure shows and ate way too much junk food. But it was enough to feel his limbs growing heavy and feet feeling a little too far away. Keith felt the car move, Matt in charge of the music as they made their way to the venue.

It was getting dark by the time they got there. The three had managed to find some sort of parking but not without continuous complaints from each of them about the hourly rates no matter where they went. 

“I’ll never stop hating how you either have to pay to park, or risk getting your car towed in an alleyway with no signs about who’s allowed to be there,” Pidge huffed as they took a hit from Keith’s pen. 

“Agreed,” Matt nodded, holding his hand out and receiving the pen to take a couple hits himself. He handed it back to Keith with a nod of thanks. 

Keith took one more puff of thick air into his lungs before pocketing the device. They walked about ten minutes before approaching the venue, Keith and Matt standing on either side of Pidge despite their protests. They could handle themselves, the two knew that. Pidge certainly never failed to remind them. But Matt, being more protective than he’d ever let Pidge know directly, refused to have it any other way. 

“I have pepper spray, you know,” Pidge muttered, arms crossed. 

“Yeah, and I have mom on my ass about making sure you don’t get kidnapped or some shit.”

Pidge took a second, tilted their head, and nodded in understanding about how their mom would react if something happened to them. 

The three made it to the venue with only a couple stares and calls from cars driving by, and they stood in line waiting for the doors to open. When they finally did, they made it through the process of emptying their pockets, metal detectors, and the hands of security guards a little too rough for comfort. As the crowd piled in, Keith, Matt, and Pidge found their spot in the middle of the floor. 

Generals were only opening for the show, and the headliner would be the third to take the stage. The venue was actually pretty packed considering most of the time people wouldn’t really start piling in until the second band was nearing the end of their own set. Keith sent a text to Acxa commenting on the good turnout, unsure but not being too worried about if she’d see it. It wasn’t long before the four recognizable faces took the stage and began setting up. 

Matt howled at their appearance, earning a quick glare from Zethrid who was getting comfortable behind a drum set. Ezor took her own place behind a mic stand, electric guitar strapped across her chest. Narti did the same, a bass in hand that she played a couple test notes from. Finally, Acxa took her spot at the front of the stage. Her guitar hung from it’s strap as she adjusted her mic and searched the crowd. Her eyes landed on Keith, then Matt and Pidge. She gave a sharp wave and nearly unnoticeable smile before making confirming nods to the rest of the group on stage. They all went through a series of test notes, tuning complete and speakers set up correctly. 

Acxa tapped the mic before speaking into it, a loud and confident voice now filling the venue. “Alright everyone, who’s ready to have some fun?”

Cheers and hollers rang out from the crowd, Matt evidently the loudest as he grabbed Keith by the shoulders and shook him. Keith laughed at the gesture and returned it, giddiness and energy starting to fill his body. A rhythm echoed from the stage, soft and slow from the drums as Zethrid began. 

“Now,” Acxa continued, holding the mic with both hands. “It seems that we have a nice turnout of you all from the get go. So don’t worry, we won’t disappoint.” 

Narti joined in, a just as gentle melody played carefully and beautifully. From the opposite side of the stage, Ezor’s guitar chimed in. And finally, Acxa’s voice poured into the mic. It was gorgeous, and it took Keith back every time she sang. To him, nearly every day, she was his coworker. A fellow line cook that took no shit from the men around them. She was the best worker, but a worker at that. But here? Now? She was something else. She was another being, serenading the crowd with flowing lyrics that the trio in the center of it all linked arms and swayed back and forth. The people around them rocked back and forth, a few cheers passing through as Acxa closed her eyes to take it all in. 

This is what she loved. That much was obvious. 

And then it hit. Beautiful to anyone that knows anything about proper voice care and the effort that goes into screaming. The rest of the band played loudly as the song completely altered, loud and energetic. The change in tone carried into the crowd and Keith could feel his feet start to bounce. Pidge and Matt loosened their arms from each other, Keith following suite as the three began to push each other. 

The crowd around them quickly caught on, forming a circle as those that wished to join made their way to the middle. 

This was what Keith needed, this was where he felt safest. This was where the lack of judgment was sincere and true as it didn’t matter who you were or where you came from, what you looked like or who you loved. All that mattered was how much energy you could put into your movement and shoving anyone that touched you. Keith closed his eyes and felt himself run into person after person, a smile gleaming on his face as he yelled and whooped as the song continued. He was grateful for his shoes, as at this point people had started spilling drinks on the floor and he opened his eyes in an attempt to stay aware of those around him. The last thing he wanted was to miss someone falling. 

The pit continued to grow in people joining and in the energy overtaking them. Keith had lost Pidge and Matt at this point in the bumper car game of bodies against bodies. Pidge was especially hard to find in the sea of those much taller than them. But that never stopped them, and they were usually the hardest to shove away. They simply pushed back even harder. Time had ceased to exist, and Keith loved it. He never wanted it to end. This? This was what he lived for at that very moment. This was all he found himself caring about. 

The song ceased to a slow pace once again, and the pit followed. Keith found himself panting as sweat was starting to drip down his forehead. He pushed his hair back, the sweat good for one thing as it held his bangs back. He turned his attention to the stage as Acxa had switched back to an angelic tone that filled the room. Her dark blue hair was short on one side, and the rest fell over her face as she sang. Her eyes remained closed as she let herself fall into the lyrics and completely allow the song to take over the energy she was emitting. It was unspeakable how amazing the performance was, vocal and all. It was hard not to be completely taken aback not just by the beauty of her voice, but by the instrumental that played alongside her. As the music swelled, Zethrid joined in on the mic positioned at her lips. Zethrid’s hair was medium length, pulled in shaggy ponytails on either side of her head. Her voice was lower than Acxa’s, but the two matched perfectly. 

The moment was much too short but would remain stuck in Keith’s head even after the music returned to its loud, fast paced tune. Acxa was screaming into the mic once more, low and guttural at times and it was downright impressive. 

The pit resumed in speed and energy for the rest of the song, and almost didn’t stop between songs as the show continued. 

They played a handful of songs, and Keith had managed to find Matt and Pidge in the now extremely dense crowd as the final song began. It was light and the three put the last strings of energy into the way they moved, eager to not lose each other once more. Ezor was jumping on stage as she played, electric in her movements and a wide smile across her face. A long braided ponytail, littered with a spray of color woven throughout it held tight as it ran down her back. She had her own occasions of backing Acxa on the mic, and it was almost impossible to believe such a loud, (healthily) rasping scream could come from such a sweet and bubbly person. Narti held her own ground as well, buzzed hair dyed blue as a hood covered the majority of her face. Even then, a grin was evident in the shadow of the fabric. 

Keith recognized his favourite part of the song coming up, causing him to throw a knowing look towards Matt and Pidge at his side. The buildup was indescribable as the three sang in unison with the band. 

Independently persuade foreign complementaries

Hoping to recalculate

Reconstruct what we conceive

Misconstruction animates forward beyond centuries

They continued to jump together, more than ready with the oncoming set of lyrics as they yelled together. 

Goals shared by individuals

Carry those who follow the nature of parameters set

In place to protect silently elected leaders

They were laughing, glee filling Keith’s chest as they locked arms once more and continued to jump and scream for the rest of the song. They poured all their energy into the final pushes and movements of the pit, screaming until their throats hurt despite being the few that actually knew the words. People had shown up, there was no lie about that. But in terms of being as dedicated to the band and their shows, never missing a single one? No one could beat them in any regard of the matter. 

And with that, Generals had completed their set. 

“Thank you!” Acxa breathed into the mic, out of breath and wiping sweat from her brow. The strands of hair were now pushed behind her heavily pierced ears, blue shining in the stage lights. “You’ve been a great crowd!”

Ezor chimed in. “I love you guys! All of you, every last one!” She followed her words with blown kisses and giggles. 

Narti gave a wave and the known sign for “I love you” in ASL. She waved her hands as she began helping the others collect their things in preparation for the next band. 

Zethrid yelled into the mic, causing a select few in the crowd to jump. “You guys better be there for our next show! Give the next guys coming up some love!” 

The members of Generals gave a final wave goodbye as they exited the stage. 

Keith’s ears were ringing, an all too familiar sound. He could feel his makeup smudged and starting to pour down his neck. He really needed to stop using water activated paint. Matt and Pidge grinned widely beside him, the two just as out of breath as he was. He got a couple pats on the back from those around him, Matt as well. Pidge had multiple people coming up to them complimenting their ability to hold up in the pit and how taken aback they were by Pidge’s strength. As a very select few groups of people made their way out of the venue, even more somehow flooded the floor in anticipation for the next band. 

The three went to the doors leading outside to get a breather and a couple more hits in of Pidge’s payment. There were a decent amount of people outside as well, all having the same idea. They found a spot next to the doors as they were all too eager to get back inside the second the next band took their place. Keith pulled out and lit a cigarette as his friends made a gagging noise at the sight. He simply rolled his eyes and took a hit anyways. 

“Hey,” Keith said as smoke poured from his lips. He exhaled to let the rest of it escape. “I’m gonna go get us some water in a second. I’m assuming you each want a bottle?”

“Oh god, yes please,” Matt nodded, pulling his hair back with a scrunchie he’d borrowed from Pidge. 

“Ditto,” Pidge confirmed. 

Keith nodded at the two, took a couple more puffs of his cigarette and put it out before making his way back inside. He found himself in the line to the bar, considering a drink that’d only amplify his high but deciding against it. He didn’t want to ruin tonight. He refused to, knowing full well he’d find himself falling in the pit with limbs too limp to help drag himself back up. 

“I can’t believe we missed the opener.”

“Eh, they couldn’t have been all that great.”

“I like them!”

“Yeah, I know, I’m just sayin’.”

An all too familiar voice held a conversation not too far from where Keith was standing, now almost at the front of the line. His premeditated words on simply ordering water now wiped from his mind. 

No fucking way.

Keith forced his head to turn, hoping, no… praying that he was just high. Begging the universe to let him please just be high and remembering old voices from years ago that he’d never thought he’d hear again. His eyes caught on the source of the sound, and his heart caught in his throat. 

A tall figure with brown hair swooped to one side over his face stood next to one of a shorter stature. Her own hair was pulled back and high on her head, long strands on either side of her face framing it well. 

James had an arm around Nadia, their relationship more than evident with the gesture. He wore that same smirk Keith had found himself hating more and more over the years. The same smirk he held that night at the party, a night Keith wanted nothing more than to forget. He’d almost succeeded at erasing the memory but now it was flashing behind his eyes no matter how hard he wished for it to stop. He’d shoved the event down into the depths of his memory, desperate to never recall it. And yet despite years of effort, years of neglect to move past the gunch wrenching feeling that was once again in his chest, it was all flooding back to him. More memories followed of arguments throughout their last year of highschool, fights in the parking lot, ignoring calls and texts: a messy falling out if he was being generous with the word.

No. Fucking. Way.

Keith’s feet were moving before he could stop to think. He didn’t notice Matt coming in or Pidge rushing to his side. He didn’t realize that they must have seen James from outside, knowing full well what Keith intended to do had he seen the other. But he had. Keith had seen him alright, and he didn’t consider the consequences of his actions at that moment. 

The next thing he knew, there was a glimpse of recognition in James’ eyes before Keith was raising a fist, and that fist was colliding with James’ nose. 

Adrenaline boiled in his blood, threatening to tear his veins as they pulsed beneath his skin. Keith could barely register Matt and Pidge’s hands on his arms in an attempt to pull him back. He felt his nails dig deep into his palm and red was all he could see. James had fallen to the ground, Nadia yelling out and dropping to his side as crimson seeped from his nose. Tears dotted the corners of his eyes in pain and a rage building in his own chest. 

A crowd began to form, a few figures rushing to James’ aid and shadowed faces fell into an army of whispers and shouts alike. Keith’s mind rushed like a tidal wave that was only picking up speed, waves of mixed emotions flooding his thoughts as he realized what he’d done. Yet, through all those emotions, not a single one was that of regret. Pidge and Matt’s collective strength was enough to hold him from pounding James into the ground, and his breath was starting to find a steady pace. He could feel his fists shake at his sides as the room around him was nothing but muffled speech. He was underwater, and the red trailing down James’ face was stark against the waves. 

James was the only source of a voice that filtered through the ringing in Keith’s ears. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Keith was surprised that James had apparently recognized him. Neither had changed much beyond said recognition, but Keith’s face was still covered in black paint that was smudged past the point of any discernible design. His features had sharpened, neck tattoo was more than evident,and his muscles had grown with each year as he’d picked up a loose habit of working out. Keith still wasn’t all that tall, but he’d gained an inch or two since he and James had last met. The party and all its events sat unresolved in the thick air between them. 

James had acted like it never happened from the start, so Keith had no doubt in his mind that the other had managed to wipe it all from his memory. Keith himself had started to believe his mind was playing tricks on him. 

The thought of the past events only sent another surge of fury through his chest, running down his arms. One of which he began to pull back when Matt’s voice cut through the fog. 

“Keith, stop!” 

It was as if a bucket of ice had been thrown upon him as he froze in place. 

“They’re threatening to call the police, we need to leave!” Pidge yelled. Their voice was sharp and full of something Keith wasn’t sure he’d heard before. Not from them at least. 

He allowed his arms to fall to his side as his legs felt like jello, catching himself with slow steps in an attempt to walk. Keith allowed his friends to pull him, to guide him through the sea of people staring all too hard. He couldn’t make out the words that he was sure were being exchanged between James and Nadia behind him. Even Matt and Pidge had fallen back below sea level as the ringing cut through all other sound. 

It was as if the world was trying to eat him whole. 

Sunday 10

It was late. Or rather, early for that matter - Around one in the morning. Keith was sitting on his couch with Matt and Pidge sharing hushed words from the kitchen. Kosmo cuddled up on his lap, motioning for pets despite Keith’s bruised knuckles. There was still red staining his hand, dry and browning as time passed agonizingly slow. He couldn’t tell if it was the weed causing his brain to stay within a drowning buzz or if it was the aftershock of what he’d done. The paint on his face was starting to feel heavy and sticky as it begged to be cleaned off.

“I’m,” he croaked out, voice hoarse from the entirety of the night's events. He could hear Pidge and Matt quiet at the sound. “I’m sorry.”

Silence. A deafening silence consumed the air and caused Keith’s heart to race. 

“I don’t know what happened I just, I saw him and,” the words were tumbling from his lips like water pouring through a damn ripped in two. “And I, I mean, everything he ever did to me and said just came back and it was like I couldn’t see. My body just moved on it’s own and-”

Keith was halted by a hand on his shoulder. Matt’s comforting touch allowed Keith to take a deep breath. 

“Keith,” he began, “you’re good man just…jesus.” Matt couldn’t seem to find the words.

Pidge made their way to the couch as well, taking the place next to Keith and placing a hand on his knee. “Listen, as much as I hated James in high school too, that was years ago. I…” they took a sharp breath before deciding on what to say. “I don’t know if that warrants sockin’ the guy at a concert. I mean, at least do it in an alley or-” they were quickly interrupted by Matt clearing his throat. “What? James was a dick in high school, I’m sure he still is.”

Keith glanced up to see Matt shooting Pidge a look. 

“Fine, alright,” they continued. “Don’t punch people or something. Stop giving me that look, dude!” they exclaimed, attention now on their brother. 

“Guys, it’s fine,” Keith looked back down as Kosmo jumped to the floor, leaving his hands with nothing to keep them busy. He focused on a loose string hanging from his pants. “I’m sorry, I… don’t really know what else to say.”

“An explanation, maybe?” Pidge chuckled. They were trying to sound comforting, but Keith only wanted this whole thing to be over. He didn’t want to dwell on it, he wanted them all to sleep and forget what had happened and just go back to normal. 

Keith opened his mouth to respond, but nothing could find its way out. 

Matt spoke up, rubbing the back of his head with his free hand. “Listen, I know you’ve had your issues with James before. But that was in middle school, weren’t you guys friends in high school?”

Pidge shoved their brother lightly. “They had a whole falling out, dude. Do you not remember?”

Matt stared blankly. “Wait, really?”

“Yes, really,” they responded with an eye roll. 

“Oh… how did I miss that?”

Keith took another shuddering breath. “Well, it’s not like I put in much of an effort to hang out with you a bunch towards the end of the year especially after Lance and I…” His breath caught in his throat. 

Keith had tried so hard to forget about his entire senior year. Sure, it had its good moments. It had so many good moments. But that part of his life had become overshadowed by a nauseating feeling with every glimpse of memory. Now? Now, it was all flooding back to him and he felt like a teenager again. He felt all of his anger and resentment, all of his hate and sorrow alike filling his chest. 

He was jerked from his mind once more as Pidge grabbed the sides of his face, not caring about the smudging black. 

“Keith, look at me please.”

Keith did as he was told. 

“You don’t have to tell us what happened,” they continued. “At least, not now. I'm assuming you had your reasons, and personally I trust your judgment enough to believe that that punch was a long time coming.” They cracked a light smile at their own words, and the gesture earned a glimmer of the same expression from Keith. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? We’ll get snacks, get high again, and watch the first stupid movie we can find. Got it?” 

Keith nodded, and that’s exactly what they did. 

~

That night, Keith dreamed about Lance. Not Lance from the breakup, but Lance in the beginning. When the two were a couple of dumb, anxious, awkward kids that didn’t know the realities of the world. Back when Keith was so scared of the universe that he couldn’t bother to see anything outside of his bubble. 

Keith dreamed of the first night Lance had gone to his house. Shiro and Adam had given Keith countless looks and raised brows, which always caused a shock of red to flush his cheeks and ears. He knew what they were implying, and he’d been praying for it to fly over Lance’s head. That night, after some shitty movies and a (very poor) attempt at getting homework done, they opened Keith’s window into the night air. The roof that sat right below the window was slightly sloped down, but not so much that they’d fall. The two were able to comfortably work their way through the window and sit upon rough shingles as moonlight showered them through the clouds. Snow was treading in the air ever so slightly and landed in Lance’s hair. Flakes graced his nose and Keith found himself completely unable to look away. 

“It’s fuckin’ cold out here,” Lance had chuckled, blowing hot air into his hands to keep them from reddening. 

Keith smiled in response, his voice quiet. “You just freeze easily. Not my fault your body refuses to do its job.”

“Okay, my bad, I didn’t know I was supposed to be able to sit in ten degree weather without any issues.”

“Yup, works just fine for me,” Keith said as he leaned back on his hands. Lance groaned at the words and looked up towards the sky. 

His eyes drifted between the stars, hot breath causing clouds in front of them. They sat in a peaceful silence for a few minutes, and Keith had no idea how his life had managed to shift so intensely. His body full of raging emotions and anxious thoughts seemed to calm in that moment, nothing more than background noise. 

“Yknow,” Lance breathed, “I never thought you’d know I existed.”

“What?” Keith sat up a bit, eyebrows creasing as his mind began to race. “Why?”

“We’ve been in the same classes for a while now and, well, I guess you live under a rock when it comes to social media-” this earned Lance a playful shove. “I don’t know, you just never showed any interest, like, at all in being friends before that party.”

Keith sat with the words in the cold night air. He wanted to say it wasn’t true, tell Lance that he was wrong. But… was he? Lance wasn't even a name that Keith could remember up until that year. It wasn’t due to a lack of interest, he just couldn’t seem to place why. 

“I…” Keith pondered for a second as he pulled his knees up to his chest. His heart was pounding. “I guess I didn’t really have an interest in being anyone's friend if that helps you feel better?” The pause between them forced his mind to start moving even faster, thought after thought about saying the wrong thing or his tone being too harsh. 

But Lance broke it quickly with a soft laugh. “Yeah, yeah that’s fair. I forget that not everyone is dying to hang out with me.” He eyed Keith with a smirk and glimmer of sarcasm. 

“You underestimate yourself, I mean you think that I never wanted anything to do with you. Which isn’t true, mind you. I just… ugh, I don’t know,” Keith groaned. The words were failing to find themselves in his mind. “I’m not really a ‘let’s go make friends’ kinda guy.”

“I can see that.”

“Oh, shut up.”

The two exchanged a few quiet giggles, elbowing each other with caution so as to not be the cause of one of them falling. 

They’d really only been hanging out for a month or so at that point, but Keith could feel his world turning upside down. Just the month before he was hanging out with James and his jackass friends, putting up with more teasing than he’d ever been comfortable with. And suddenly, there he was, sitting on his roof with a boy he could see no flaws within. Lance was kind and smart, charismatic and funny. He was everything Keith envied in a person, but admired at the same time. It was almost infuriating with the ease Lance seemed to carry himself with. That had to be part of why Keith never really went out of his way to learn much about the other. But he didn’t want to think even a month back when they weren’t hanging out. Let alone when they weren’t talking, or when Keith barely even knew the name Lance. 

“I’m glad we’re friends now though,” Keith let out in a near whisper. 

Lance turned his gaze over as the two made eye contact (something Keith was never good at creating or maintaining). A smile crossed his lips as blue eyes glimmered in the moonlight. “I’m glad we’re friends too, Keith.” 

It was at that moment that Keith let himself accept that he found Lance to be really, really pretty. 

~

Keith woke that morning to a sleeping Pidge on his couch, Matt on the floor, and his own body curled up with Kosmo right there next to Matt. His head was pounding, ears ringing and adjusting still to the juxtaposition between his apartment and the concert venue. Birds sang outside his window which caused Kosmo to jump up suddenly and dart to the glass. Keith could’ve sworn that dog was raised by stray cats before being found. 

Matt sat up instantly, eyes wide and hair messy. “Fuck, Kosmo you, son of a bitch you scared me.”

“He does that,” Keith yawned as he wiped sleep from his eyes. The dream from the night before still lingered in his mind, nothing short of a simple memory. He locked it away in the recess of his brain behind locked doors and chains. “A lot, actually.”

Pidge snored loudly on the couch. 

“Goddamn, they sleep like a brick,” Matt laughed. 

Keith slumped back to the floor as he wished he could fall back to sleep. Despite the ping of pain the memory caused with every resurface, he wouldn’t mind living in it for just five more minutes. “Damn right they do. Do you think if I make coffee they’ll wake up? I’m pretty sure the smell triggers the sleeper agent in them”

“Honestly? Yeah, that’ll work. 

Friday, 22

Keith lunged the trash bag over his head as he aimed for the open dumpster. It was starting to warm up which Keith found himself thanking the universe for. Freezing temperatures don’t mix very well with metal in one's face. He still didn’t get cold too easily, but he couldn’t lie about being grateful for less snow and slightly warmer days. Keith rubbed his hands on his jeans as he made his way to the back door of the restaurant when Acxa stepped out, jamming a cloth in the lock of the door to keep it open. 

She lifted a cigarette and lighter, waving them as she raised a brow in offerance. 

Keith shrugged, wordless in his acceptance. He took both items and placed the cigarette between his lips before lighting the end. He took in a deep breath of smoke, the burn in the back of his throat calming his nerves from the dinner rush that had just passed. 

“Yup,” Acxa stated, affirming the action as she followed suit with another cigarette from a box in her pocket. The two leaned against the building and basked in the setting sun. “You work this weekend?” she asked. 

“Just Sunday morning,” Keith spoke through another breath of smoke. “Covering for Angelo so they gave me Saturday night off.”

“Good, fuck a clopen, I hate that shit.” 

Keith simply nodded. He meant to quit smoking ages ago, telling himself that he would month after month, week after week, day after day. He hated that Lance ever had to see the habit start towards the end. He also hated that Lance never seemed to leave his mind, years after things ended and the other moved on with his life. Keith attempted to move on, and was only more motivated to do so when Lance moved off to college and started posting about his new, fun, adult life as if nothing had ever happened between the two. In the span of just one year, Keith had gained so much love and lost it all at once. Since then, it was as if the world had turned grey. And sure, maybe he was being dramatic. High school relationships aren’t supposed to work out and he’d seen countless of them fall apart at the seams. He just thought they would be different. 

So why couldn’t he move on like everyone else?

“Keith! Acxa! Get in here, we’re gettin’ hit!”

“God,” Acxa groaned. “We close in an hour, can’t people get a fucking life?”

“You’d think,” Keith rolled his eyes as he tossed the cigarette to the ground and stomped it out. 

The both went back inside, the smell lingering on their jackets and Keith cringing at the knowledge that it was so stuck to him. He was blind to it for a while until Shiro gave him a look the second he stepped back into his old home, visiting for dinner one evening. It was only when Pidge bluntly told him how bad it really was that he got as close to quitting as he thought he would get. He doesn’t carry them around, but he won’t say no when offered. He typically reserves the puffs of smoke and sticking smell to his small patio on particularly rough nights. 

Or at work when there was a line to the door until (and sometimes even past) the minute they closed. 

The rest of his shift dragged on begrudgingly, full of rushed equipment cleaning and grease stains continuing to build on his clothes. He really needed to do laundry tomorrow. Luckily, he could reserve his frustration and quips of anger to the back of house. No one bats an eye at a line cook yelling. Typically, Keith was prone to overstimulation. And sometimes the sounds of the kitchen proved to be too much and prompted a smoke break with Acxa. But other times it allowed him to either stay quiet and do his job through nothing but sheer muscle memory, and other times he was able to be loud and express frustration. 

It took longer than anyone would’ve liked, but the restaurant was finally closed and Keith was giving sharp goodbyes and he gathered his things. He slung his backpack over his shoulder, black denim jacket strung over his arm. Acxa walked out with him, jogging behind to catch up as they swung open the door. 

“Man, I can’t wait for Generals to pick up, I’m so tired of this… shit…” her voice slowly trailed off before Keith could focus on what she had seen. Or, rather, who she had seen. Acxa’s body quickly tensed as both of them stopped in the tracks at the figure waiting outside the back door. 

Keith felt the all too familiar bubble of anger rise up in his throat once more at the sight of James leaning against a truck that was way too big for a prissy rich kid to actually need. You’ve gotta be shitting me.

“I’ll be right here,” Acxa muttered behind Keith who was already making his way forward. 

“Yup,” Keith quickly responded. 

His feet smacked the wet pavement of melted snow and ice, boots protecting worn down socks from the weather and mop water alike. James perked up at the sight of Keith in a way that Keith couldn’t seem to read. The face before him was shadowed enough by the now darkened sky that it was impossible to tell what expression he may have been holding. 

A voice called out from inside the truck, quick and frustrated. “James, can we please just go home? This is so stupid.”
“No, Nadia, we’re here already,” James sighed. “Might as well.” 

“Whatever,” Nadia scoffed, rolling up her window and sitting in the still running car. 

Keith refused to let James speak to him first. “Can I help you, or?”

“Yeah, actually, you can,” James snapped. Now that Keith was closer, he could see the damage from the other week. It had healed a decent amount since then but it was far from disappearing. James wore a bandaged nose and upper lip, eye bruised and purple. Keith could barely even remember hitting more than once and it was almost satisfying to see the result of years worth of anger. James sniffed and rubbed his nose, now slightly crooked. “So, are you gonna tell me what the fuck that was for? Or are you just gonna punch me out of fucking nowhere again?”

“I dunno,” Keith shrugged. “I might. What are you doing at my job dude, don’t have anything better to do with your life?”

“Well, you didn’t leave me with much of a choice! You blocked me on everything years ago. It’s not like I wanted to see you again anyways, but I’m not the one with anger issues or whatever the hell is wrong with you. I barely even recognized you but your stupid ass haircut hasn’t changed at all.” James crossed his arms and straightened his stance, taller than Keith would care to admit in comparison to his own stature. 

“I’m not doing this again,” Keith spoke through gritted teeth as he clenched his fists.

“Good, it’ll save me a medical bill, now are you gonna tell me why-”

“No, James, I’d be happy to punch you again. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Keith got closer, ignoring the fact that James was refusing to back down. They were a mere foot from each other at this point and Keith could hear Acxa inching her way closer to the two: ready for whatever was about to happen. 

James simply laughed, “no, actually, I don’t, Kogane. I have no fuckin’ idea what you’re talking about.”

Keith was starting to feel his anger tunnel vision, fist itching to be raised. He settled on getting as close as possible, mouth centimeters away from grazing James’ ear. “What, you don’t want your girlfriend to find out her boyfriend used to get drunk and kiss boys in his bedroom?”

James quickly raised his hands and shoved Keith away like he was infected with something deadly. A reflected anger shone in his eyes as he seemed to stumble over thoughts, as though the fact that Keith even remembered what had happened was an unplanned factor in his confrontation. But the reaction was all the confirmation Keith needed after years of questioning himself, countless nights of convincing himself that he had been that drunk and made it up. The gesture was nothing more than affirmation that their fight at the end of the school year was never unfounded, despite the never ending statements that it was. 

“Get the fuck away from me, before I really put you in the hospital,” Keith demanded. He almost hoped that James would refuse so he’d have an excuse to blacken the other eye. 

“Maybe we can talk about whatever you got going on when you can be a goddamn adult about it, you’re fucking insane dude,” James smirked as he reached for the handle of his car door. 

“Keith,” Acxa spoke up, suddenly closer than Keith had even registered. “Cmon, he’s just not worth the energy.”

“Listen to your girlfriend, Keith,” James chuckled. “Took you long enough to get one. Acxa, isn’t it? You do know you’re just his cover, right? That, or some replacement for his mommy issues. Ever get that fixed, Kogane? Or is your mom still trying to get as far away from you as she can?”

That’s it.  

Keith gave in to all urges and threw a fist forward towards James. He expected to feel the familiar sensation of a grip on his jacket in an attempt to pull him away, just as Matt and Pidge had done the night of the concert. But Acxa wasn’t the Holts, and despite her attempt to get Keith to leave it alone, she had no problem letting him make this decision. 

In seconds Keith had James against the gleaming white truck, sparking nothing more but another spark of anger in his stomach. He felt his fist colliding with James’ abdomen, resulting in a grunt from the other as air left his throat. But this time, James was more than ready to reciprocate. Keith found himself stumbling back as his own stomach was met with a jolting knee, which was quickly followed by a fist to his jaw. Stings of pain shot through the bone and teeth in his mouth as the taste of iron quickly reached his tongue. 

“Fuck you, dude,” Keith spat with a shot of red onto the pavement. He took a step forward, prepared to land another punch when he felt a foot sweep beneath him. He was instantly knocked over, head smacking the ground as Acxa cursed at the sight. The world moved around Keith in slow motion as he could hear Acxa’s footsteps rushing towards him. 

Before she managed to make it, before any more time could pass, James was gripping Keith’s shirt and pulling him up just enough for Keith to be the only one to hear the other’s next words. 

“Tell Nadia shit, and I won’t stop so early next time.”

With that, Keith was being dropped to the ground once more as Acxa replaced James above him.