Work Text:
Tu me abriste las heridas que ya daba por curadas
Con limon tequila y sal
“So what, Keith? So fucking what? Oh, you love me?” you instigate, angry tears flowing.
“Yes!” he exclaims. “Yes I fucking love you! I always have!”
“Then show it! Tell it! When was the last time we spoke? When was the last time you even fucking thought of me? Of how I fucking feel with you out with the Blades every other fucking week?” you were cursing like a thirteen year old at this point, throwing fuck around.
This had happened before- where he’d just go off and forget about everyone who loved him.
“I think about you every single goddamn moment of the day! Don’t accuse me of that bullshit!” Keith raised his voice on the other end of the call.
“Yeah? You think about me? About how I miss you so much that I do whatever you want when you’re actually here, wishing, hoping, that for once you’ll stay just long enough for me?”
Una historia repetida
Solamente un déjà vu que nunca llega a su final
“Do you really feel that way?” he says quietly after a short pause.
“Yes, Keith! Yes! Why the fuck else would I fucking say that?” you say frustratedly.
“Why do you blame yourself?”
“Why do you keep on leaving us?” you retort, your cheeks hot with emotion. “Y’know, Keith, we were able to do long distance. But this? This is different. This is- shit, this is long distance even when you’re sleeping right fucking next to me. We never talk about anything anymore. It’s always just, “Hey babe,” “What’s up, baby?” “Nothin’ much, mi vida.” Maybe we should… maybe it’s time to take a- a break.”
You watch the panic flow through him, and you add on, “Just- just for bit. Until we have things… figured out.”
Keith nods, “Okay, I’m good with that. I’ll sleep in another room, then, tonight. Uh, bye I lo- I love you.”
The daring statement strikes through you like lightning would strike a metal object.
Mejor, me quedo solo
Y me olvido de tus cosas, de tus ojos
The next eight nights, you slept alone. Not in peace, but restlessly. You dreamt of his warm violet-indigo eyes, pulling you in deep. His hands dragging slowly from your hips to your shoulder blades to the nape of your neck. His lips on your jaw, whispering to you, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I love you.”
You let out a sob, “I know, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
Your tears are warm, but your cheeks are cold in the air-conditioned dream.
“I know you’re having trouble, and Allura’s being downright horrendous to you, I shouldn’t have said what I said. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Keith,” you sob harder, your body pushing further into him as he cradled your head.
“Shhh, no, I know, you were right. I have been pulling away, Y/n. And I know that- Y/n!”
His voice is heard clearly through the backgroundless dream as he whisper-yelled your name, without moving his mouth.
“Y/n! Y/n, wake up!” shaking began, like an earthquake, as you realize you’re dreaming. You begin to form the idea of what’s going on in the real world, your room, Keith shaking you awake, “Y/n, wake up!”
You finally decide to indulge him, and open your eyes, “Mmm?”
“Are you okay?” he asks, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes full of worry.
“Yeah, I’m fine, why?” your voice cracks, and your face is still way too cold.
“You were crying in your sleep,” he replied.
“Oh,” you wipe at your face, feeling the cool water as some of it begins to dry, leaving the thinnest film of salt.
“Did you really mean what you said?” Keith says into the silence.
“What?” your sleepy demeanor is wiped away at the question.
“In your dream. You were sleep-talking too,” he adds.
Mejor esquivo el polvo
No quiero caer de nuevo en esa foto
“I don’t know,” you reply, dodging the realness of what you felt. “It depends on if you feel the same way Dream-Keith did, and I know that’s probably far from the truth.”
“How did Dream-Keith feel, then?” Keith’s hand caresses your face, and you realize you much prefer this over Dream-Keith’s ministrations.
“He felt close. Here,” you answer truthfully.
“Then that’s what I’ll be. I’ll be close. I’ll be here. I’ll be with you,” he makes his choice, smiling at you. “I could never stand to lose you, baby.”
You bring your hands up to his cheeks, “I miss you so much.” You rub your fingers across his soft vaselined lips.
“Can I kiss you?” he asks you carefully, his hands on your wrists.
Instead, you raise your blankets, offering him his space back. He takes it eagerly, kissing your forehead, “Thank you. For forgiving me, and dealing with me.”
“Keith, I don’t ever ‘deal with you’. You’re not a problem, I don’t deal with you, I love you. There’s a difference,” you explain, allowing your lips to fall on his.
Es un asalto, a tu corazon
Voy a quitarte la camisa y a llenarme de tu amor
Es un asalto, a tu corazon
Sere culpable
Si es delito no me import ir al prision