Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Keith stands on the porch beside the back door, back flat against wooden paneling, the boards still warm from the setting sun. His arms crossed and one black booted leg is bent, sole pressed against the wall behind him. To the outward observer, he has an air of self-sufficiency, unaffected. He looks every bit a brooding rock star, gazing over the Garrison Inn’s carefully landscaped lawns and like a Sovereign surveying his kingdom.

He runs through an exercise in his mind. Focussing his hearing the high-pitched metallic chirp of the Towhee, pausing to taste the remnants of garlic and lime on his tongue, left over from the 3 skewers he’d managed to inhale before the bulk of the guests arrived. He gazes out at the fading golden sunlight reaching through the clouds like the hands of an angel. He is sniffing the air as he feels the phone buzz in his back pocket and his heart recalibrates to a breakneck pace.

He huffs out a sigh of frustration and a flash of wisdom crosses his mind. Maybe, just maybe the high speed with which he has been known to live his life, much to the frustration of… well everyone… is just because he is trying to keep up with his natural heart rate.

Doubling down on his efforts to calm his system he shifts tactics. Inhale 1, 2, 3, 4, hold 1, 2, 3, 4.  Release 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8. Hold 1, 2, 3, 4. After three rounds of breathe, he feels when it starts to work. The red haze at the edge of his eyesight is beginning to fade. Inhale 1, 2, 3, 4, hold 1, 2, 3, 4…

The door beside him opens, and Keith realizes that he is disappointed that it doesn’t squeak. The building is old, and Keith registers that he is seeking some comfort in creeky floors and un-oiled hinges. The place is supremely well maintained and he finds the lack of sound disquieting.

He is still counting in his head, and Shiro must pick up on Keith’s internal process, because he steps through the threshold cautiously, holding a tumbler filled with ice, amber liquid, and a slice of lime, almost as a peace offering. 

Keith finishes a final slow exhale before pushing off the wall to accept the drink. Nodding his thanks, because words aren’t available yet. 

“You did good.” His brother says, patting Keith’s shoulder with his now empty hand, his prosthetic holding a glass of red wine. He says it in that easy way Shiro has when offering praise, the one that raises emotion in Keith’s throat. The one where Keith both believes the words and doubts them. Like two realities reflecting off one another -- because he has never been worthy, but also, Shiro looks for, and finds , the best in people.

“Most of the press and fan hoopla is done.” He reassures as Keith saunters along the porch beside him. The heat of the day lingers, but an evening breeze rustles the leaves in the surrounding trees and provides a hint of the reprieve soon to come. “You handled that kid really well.” There is teasing in Shiro’s tone and how his lips curve slightly and his eyes crinkle. Keith doesn’t rise to the bait.

“I figure… I understood her somewhat.” Keith’s voice is gravelly when he finally speaks and a slight Texas tang slides into the last word. They stop walking and both stand to face the sunset. 

Shiro’s brow crinkles in confusion, it is such an alien look on the man that Keith almost laughs at it. Instead, he clears his throat and takes a small sip of his drink.

“Hmmm,” Shiro’s tone slips back to gentle teasing, nudging Keith with his shoulder. “I must have missed your sobbing for pop stars, fanboy stage.” He muses thoughtfully.  “Did I take a long nap that day?”

Keith rolls his eyes because obviously, that is not what he meant. Shiro just raises a questioning eyebrow, because he’s an asshole.

Keith exhales and tries to find the words, “I remember when my emotions would get away from me like that.”

Understanding dawns on the taller man’s features. There is a moment of softness before a gleam enters his eyes.

“You mean, like… yesterday?” Shiro prompts evenly. 

“Agh, Ass.Hole.” Keith says pointedly, before huffing out an exasperated sigh and swinging his hand out sideways to swat the bastard, who dodges and laughs, deftly depositing his wine glass on a side table before reaching to muss his brother’s hair.  Keith puts his drink down on the banister and leans in to elbow him, and Shiro uses Keith’s momentum to pull him around into a hold, locking his arms to his sides. Keith retaliates by twisting sideways and bringing his leg around the back of Shiro’s to try to trip him. It almost works, except Shiro manages to maintain his center of balance. Still, he loses his grip on Keith and has to take a couple of steps backward to remain standing. Shiro is laughing, and Keith is fixing his hair and trying to feign anger. However, the tension he was previously feeling has eased…

Until he feels another buzz of his phone.

Whether Shiro hears the sound or just registers the look of panic in Keith’s eyes, he reaches out to pull Keith in for a hug. He does it slowly, and Keith wants to be annoyed at being treated like an injured animal, but he is too grateful for the comfort since his emotions are drowning him today.

He leans into the taller man’s shoulder and feels tears prick against his eyes. 

“It's going to be okay kid.” 

The words shouldn’t be a comfort, because he’s heard them so many times, from so many people. Lots of those folks had no idea how things would turn out. Many of them were wrong, it wasn’t okay. Sometimes, those words meant, “I need you to be okay.” or “You need to be okay with this.” But Keith has learned, that when Shiro says it, he means, “It’s going to be okay, because I am going be here.” It means, “We’ll be okay because we’ll be together.”---

---

Shiro and Keith take the stairs up to his third-floor room. The sun is totally gone now, and Keith turns off the air-conditioning and opens the patio doors to the evening breeze. The moon is just rising and they are far enough from the city to see stars. 

“So,” Shiro prompts. “What did she say?”

Keith opens his phone and drops it on his bed for Shiro to see. His brother picks it up, but Keith reads over his shoulder.

Message

7:53PM

I really appreciated our phone conversation yesterday.

8:17PM

I noticed on your tour schedule that we’ll have a down day in Munich when you arrive there. Would you like to have a late lunch/early dinner together?

8:23PM

Only if you’re up for it. No pressure.

Shiro turns and looks at Keith expectantly. 

“She wants to meet in person,” Keith says rhetorically. 

“How do you feel about that?” Shiro asks in that cautious tone, the one that makes Keith want to punch him.

“It’s okay.” Keith shifts his arms to cross in front of himself.  “I mean… It's fine.” Keith manages.

“Okay and fine aren’t actual feelings.” Shiro probes. Keith grabs the phone out of his hands to look back at the texts before stuffing it back in his pocket and stomping toward the open balcony door. 

“Keith,” Shiro calls after him.

“How am I supposed to feel?” Keith bites out, frustrated. 

“There is no rule book here, you get to feel however you feel.” Shiro says plainly, sounding like his fucking therapist. Keith looks over his shoulder at him and rolls his eyes.

“Are you having some trouble finding the right words?” Shiro asks, with a lilt of teasing. Keith wants to smack him. “Do you need the cards?” He gestures vaguely over his shoulder. “I can get the cards.” 

If Keith wasn’t already a sarcastic little shit when he found his way into Shiro’s family, he would swear his sense of humour came from his older brother. The two of them first found a way to communicate through quips. Keith started with sharp edges, and Shiro mirrored with gentler ones. In the outside world, Shiro’s overall kindness softens his jibes, he pokes fun and people usually laugh. On the other hand, Keith has come to blows over a poorly timed sarcastic joke. At the end of the day, it is still the same dry wit and it’s part of the glue that holds them together.

Keith ignores him because he doesn’t have a response, and because he is at the end of his ability to process this unprecedented situation. To be honest, he’s still reeling from the shock of his m… this woman popping back into his life.

“‘You going to see her?” Shiro asks, joining Keith in front of the open doorway.

“I think so,” Keith says honestly.

“You don’t owe her anything,” Shiro says, protective anger leaking into his voice.

And while Keith knows this, he can’t really respond, he can’t explain. The prospect of meeting this woman fills him with both excitement and dread. There is also an underlying longing, a pull so deep that it makes it hard to breathe.

They share a heavy but peaceful silence, until Shiro rests his hand on Keith’s shoulder, both comforting and an apology. “I wish I could hang up here with you, but… I need to be downstairs.”

“I don’t get it, if there is all this stuff going on at Altea, it just seems a bad time to be on tour.” Keith latches on to this as a new topic, something outside of himself.

“Us going on tour is probably why Lotor is stirring the pot right now.” Shiro responds smoothly.

“How does he even have a seat at the table or a pot to stir?” Keith asks, pleased at Shiro’s wince when he mixes the metaphors. He already knows the gist of the coming answer.

‘He doesn’t.” Shiro says bluntly. “He holds a small amount of interest in the company, but enough for him to have access to the Board of Directors and plant seeds of distrust.” The older man rubs his scar for a moment before continuing. “They have a valid point Keith, Allura’s membership in our band, our management presence at their offices, it is a conflict of interest.”

“But you would never…” Keith starts.

“Not knowingly.” Shiro interrupts with soft seriousness. “We would never knowingly take advantage of the things we know about the label, but it is fair that people don’t like it.”

“So Lotor isn’t doing a terrible thing?” Keith asks with disbelief.

“Lotor is definitely up to something, even if he is addressing a valid concern. My guess is he wants to create instability, to put people on edge so he can take advantage. I am not sure what his endgame is, but I don’t trust him one bit.”

Keith mulls quietly thinking of the position Allura is in. “I don’t like the rest of the band not knowing this is going on.”

Shiro sighs, “This is exactly the problem Keith. This is an issue with the label’s management. I shouldn’t know about it, you shouldn’t know about it, and the band definitely shouldn’t know about it.”

“But Allura…” Keith begins.

“Allura chose to stay in the band and run the label. She made that decision knowing what it would look like.” Shiro smiles sadly, “She knew she would be divided, and felt called to do both. I can empathize as a friend with how hard it must be. But being both her manager and negotiating with her company on behalf of my clients… it’s.” He sighs deeply, “It’s complicated.” 

Keith doesn’t have words, so he gives Shiro a slight punch in the shoulder as support. 

Shiro smiles, giving him a playful punch in return, before heading back down the stairs.

---

Keith has a sixth sense for when Lance is looking for him. He can’t remember the first time in high school when he felt the lanky boy’s focus on him, but one time he just looked up and there he was. Then and pretty much every time they met after that, that first glance was usually followed by some irritating nickname. 

It isn’t just that Keith wanted to avoid the intensity and loudness that is Lance McClain, he actually wanted to disappear into the background in most situations. An idea that seems laughable now, because Keith didn’t realize how much he stood out or why. He didn’t know how many people were paying attention while he was just trying to hide. 

He did know how much he struggled to walk away from a fight. Unfortunately, people looking for a fight figured out they’d find one with Keith. Yes, an instigator need only brag about injustice, or offer evidence of their own cruelty before Keith’s fists would enter the fray. If provoked, he would give it, and give it in spades. That aside, invisibility, while unattainable, was always the goal.

Conversely, Lance was looking for attention, courting it, if it wasn’t already focused on him, he was inviting it. 

Worse yet, Lance never let him sit on the sidelines, when Keith would have been happy watching ‘Lance and Friends’ from a distance, say a back row bleacher, the taller boy would start calling Keith out. It was through a confusing series of incomprehensible insults/compliments Lance would loudly point out all of Keith’s details to an audience: his gloves, his jacket, his motorcycle, his hair. 

Always, his fucking hair. 

He figured it developed as a defence mechanism, if he could sense Lance looking for him, he had the choice of whether or not to hide. He didn’t have to be found, he didn’t need to be center stage with Loud Mouth Lance.

So when Lance walked out of the building under Keith’s balcony that night, he knew he had a choice whether or not to be found. Honestly, he was waiting for it and tonight, he needed it. Somehow, over time, being seen beside Lance eased something inside of him. Lance let Keith hide in plain sight. 

Alone, he was always going to be that troublemaking orphan kid. 

But beside Lance it was different.

 ---

Keith waits for Lance on his balcony, toying with his phone. He had responded to the text, saying he would meet up in Munich. The build up to finally pressing send is anti-climatic and leaves him buzzing on the inside, like a shaken bottle of pop. He texts Matt to tell him about the meet up… and then turns off his notifications and puts his phone in his back pocket. 

Sounds drifted upward from below, melding together, crickets and cicadas punctuated by the murmurs of people who’ve moved outside to talk shop. Kincade’s low tones, talking about mushrooms growing underneath the porch? He overhears a couple bickering as they walk to the parking lot and he flashes back to the few memories he has of his parents together. 

It’s not that he remembers them fighting, quite the opposite. He remembers his mother smiling at him while she tucked him into a carseat or segmented an orange to feed him piece by piece. He remembers murmured voices. He remembers silences. He remembers his father’s face the times Keith would forget she was gone, and ask for her.

Maybe it is the memory of his father's face, that traps Keith into the dark place he sometimes finds inside himself. Lance arrives with a drink in hand and eyes full of mischief. He teases and prods and tries to make him laugh. Yet, Keith stubbornly resists. He feels disconnected, detached, too far gone for Lance to draw him out of his mood. Keith has set up camp in the shadows, staked a claim, he's decided to stay. 

But there’s a moment where an expression of fear and sadness crosses Lance’s face. It happens so quickly, that Keith wonders if he imagined it. Seeing that expression is like being doused with cold water. Suddenly Keith's periphery opens up. He is no longer in a dark tunnel, he’s on a balcony on a starry California night… 

with Lance

Lance, who is pulling out every trick in the book to cheer Keith up. 

He feels a small lightness in his chest. It’s like he’s shaken off a heavy blanket. 

Looking down, his gaze lands on Shiro. Keith almost snorts, because it is clear his brother is trying not to lose his shit. More than a decade of pushing the older man’s buttons gives him insight on his tells.

And dude is stressed. 

He feels the smirk before it reaches his own lips.

"Betcha can't drop that into Shiro's glass from here."

---

Keith finds his way back down the stairs, not even sure where he is going. He can’t go back to his room, it's way too small. Keith needs big spaces right now, he needs vastness, endless skylines. Being inside is making him literally want to climb walls. 

It has taken every ounce of energy in his body to stay calm, to walk away, to close the door behind him. But as soon as there was a definitive click he ran. Taking stairs two at a time, pushing through the steel doors and finding the lobby. The desire to run is strong. He wishes he could jump on his bike. He needs to get away from here, maybe he could take that long stretch beside the bay, at this time of night it would be clear. 

“Hey, Hey, Where are you rushing to at one in the morning?” Shiro catches him by the shoulders as he races through the lobby.  Keith must be wild eyed and panting, because Shiro begins with the injured animal's voice as he draws him away from the door. 

“What happened?” Shiro’s voice is soft beside his ear. His arms are solidly guiding Keith toward the lounge, and Keith becomes aware that Shiro is nodding to other people as he passes. 

Keith comes back to himself enough to realize it’s probably pretty bad optics if he takes off into the night, from an event meant to launch his band on their European tour. Right, he can’t just blow everybody off the way he used to. Not very grown up. Not very responsible. Something wild inside him rebels, but Shiro’s steady hands ground him and he remembers to breath. 

He tries to resists the urge, but cannot help looking around to see who is still here. Relieved to see the lobby almost empty, he leans into Shiro and starts counting. Shiro guides them into a darkened and empty lounge area and Keith registers his heart slowing enough for him to try speaking.

“Do you think Lance is like Lotor?” 

“Keith, what are you talking about?”

“You know,.... H-h-how he destabilizes things… t-t-t-a…” His voice breaks and tears form in the corners of his eyes.

“Just… forget it.” He says, turning to leave.

Shiro pulls Keith back by the shoulders. “Nope, this is a talk. If you come to me with that , we need to talk.”

Keith sighs, not willing to argue that he didn’t actually come to anybody, he was, in fact, trying to get away from everybody. Instead he sinks down onto one of the plush chairs. His hand to his forehead, fingers on his temples as he covers his eyes and replays the scene in his head. Shiro lowers down after him, waiting for Keith to start talking. 

He realizes Lance never asked for a kiss… but he reacted as though… UGH. What did Keith just do?

“It might have been me.” He finally says. “I may have acted… on impulse.” 

He expects a huff of laughter from Shiro, but nothing comes. He uncovers his eyes to look up and sees his brother isn’t finding humour in this. Instead, he looks deeply concerned. Keith reverts back to a million times his impulses had catastrophic consequences and feels dread.

But before Keith can be swallowed by the rising anxiety:

“I am going to need more information.”

Shiro stabilizes him with his military voice, his foster dad’s go-to when the two of them got overly rowdy, usually (but not always) before furniture or bones got broken. 

‘We were fucking around.” Keith begins, gesturing and trying to stamp out the vulnerability coming up just thinking about it.  “Daring each other to do different stuff… you know the way we ramp each other up?”

“I am aware.” 

Keith can’t tell if Shiro is referring to knowing they were getting into shit, or knowing how they egg each other on. Probably both. He can hear a hint of humour in his brother's voice, and that further staves off his panic.

“We went back to his room, and I got all… I mean…” Keith groans rolling his head backward and clutching his hands into fists with frustration. “I should have just gone to bed.”

“Keith.” Shiro’s prompts, his voice low and steadying. Shiro rests his elbows on his knees. 

“You know he’s such a fucking flirt.” Keith leans in but can’t look at Shiro when he says this. He is throwing Lance under the bus because whatever Lance had been doing, it wasn’t flirting. At least not at that moment. Dammit Lance, I dare you to dance all close and sexy with someone. It is kinda his fault. Keith has had to deal with his flirting ass for years now, and honestly, if he would just stop…

“Keith.” Shiro’s voice cuts through the spiralling thoughts. 

Keith rubs his fingers together, feeling the callouses there, to ground himself. He thinks about the song he is writing.. How good it felt to blow off steam with Lance tonight and… ‘ Do you ever think about kissing me ?’

“I kissed him.”

There is a beat of silence where Keith holds his breath. Then looks up at Shiro’s carefully schooled expression.

“And?” he prompts patiently.

“He kissed me back.” 

“Then?”

“I asked if he’d been drinking.” 

Shiro doesn’t manage to school his wince at Keith’s words. Keith isn’t sure if it’s for himself or Lance. Maybe it is for the whole fucked up situation.

Shiro clears his throat. “Go on.” he says, leaning forward. 

“Then I left.”

Keith almost shrugs as he says it. As if it was a given that Lance was drunk. As if anyone kissing Keith would have to be two sheets to the wind… ah… that is why Shiro winced. Keith’s own eyes narrow upon realizing this.

Shiro presses his fingers against the centre of his forehead for a moment, as though he is trying to draw on celestial guidance. 

Keith watches him, aware of how tired he is, aware of how Shiro has spent so much of his young life dealing with Keith’s fucked up shit. And while he feels guilty, he is also so grateful.

“Lance isn’t like Lotor.” Shiro finally says. “I don’t think he means to destabilize things. I think he mostly tries to keep things pretty balanced. If he instigated anything, on purpose or by accident, It wasn’t designed to throw you off.” 

Keith half laughs, half scoffs at Shiro’s gentle words for two reasons. His brother took the flirting comment to heart. He also knows Shiro's words are true. Lance's teasing a flirting weren't meant to mess with Keith. Still, he resents being impacted like this by anyone, but mostly by Lance, who always seems so oblivious to it. 

Shiro adds credence to this when he says, ““I find Lance tends to do things that throw you for a loop when he’s off balance himself.””

Keith sits with this, and he starts to wonder what would have Lance off balance, but Shiro pulls him back.

“Keith, you’re working so hard to stay centred and grounded, especially with everything that is going on. Maybe just give him some wide berth, focus on what you need right now, while he sorts himself out.” 

Keith nods, understanding, but torn. There are times, like earlier tonight,  when Lance is his salvation, he can let loose and just be with the other guitarist, they laugh together, do crazy shit, write beautiful music, argue, and then laugh again. 

But Shiro’s right, there are other times, when Keith can’t maintain the boundaries, the times when he gives everything, takes every chance, rides every wave, and gets drawn into the rollercoaster of wanting more. More than the flirting, the verbal jousting, and the deep writing sessions, Keith starts to want more than is his due and he ends up feeling broken. 

Shiro has seen him through this at least once before. 

Even with this reality in front of him, Keith debates whether it would be worth it, maybe just one more time. The thrill of taking a hairpin turn, at high speed, on his bike. Then he remembers how he’s feeling tonight. Just one kiss and how off-kilter it made him. Keith realizes how much he cannot afford that right now.

Chapter Text

It is 4:45 when Keith gives up on pretending to sleep. He has switched between trying to figure out what happened with Lance, to drifting into nostalgic memories of the past. He knows for a fact those times were not as rosy even as he fondly replays them. HE was legitimately stymied and frustrated by Lance when they first met. Nobody could piss him off more. The fact they never actually came to blows is either a testament to Keith’s repressed feelings of the fact that Keith really only fought with people who he felt deserved it.

“Do people deserve to be punched?” Dr. Redmond’s voice drawls out in the back of his head. 

“Fuck this.” he thinks, tossing his blankets off.

Keith is used to insomnia, but he really didn’t want to take a sleeping pill last night. The idea of being groggy, after getting barely enough rest, before flying to another time zone, didn’t seem like a great plan. The very thought of being dopey in public causes an involuntary shiver through his body, which he blames on his lack of sleep and the air conditioning he’d turned back on last night. Really, he just hates the way the pills make him feel, he rationalizes to himself. 

As slips into soft, snug, active-wear and pulls his hair into a ponytail he realizes he hasn’t thought about meeting his… this woman… all night.  He huffs a laugh at his own expense. Leave it to his obsession with Lance to give him a break from the anxiety provoking, life changing events currently shaking the foundation of his world. 

Alone, in the predawn of his room, he smiles, something warm settling in his chest. He picks up his phone and opens his notes app, to a note titled “ My Therapist and Brother are BOTH Irritating AF ” scrolling down until he reaches the bottom of the document, and types in:

I am grateful for Lance’s annoying, distracting, larger than life personality. 

Keith spends a pauses to look down at his words. For a moment his worries about the potential fallout from last night's kiss disappears. 

After a moment, he shakes himself out of his stupor, again blaming his distraction on the lack of sleep, and pops in his earbuds. He pulls up the playlist he and Matt have been working on, pressing play before tucking his phone in his arm band. Before he slips out, he puts his gloves in a back pocket and grabs one of the water bottles in the bar fridge.

Keith runs the perimeter of the property, which has paved trails. He finds his stride, the physical exertion and music blasting in his ears – the thoughts disappear. It is not a conscious decision to pace himself today. At the hour mark he remembers the obstacle course, and is grateful he didn’t try to hit a wall in his run. Keith is starting to feel playful. He revels in that feeling tickling inside his chest as he plans his route through the obstacle course. One time, Keith tried to express to Lance the rush of energy he got before facing a physical challenge’ The other man responded that Keith had been experiencing giddyness   Keith scoffed just thinking about the conversation, because if there was a feeling Keith had never felt, it was something as ridiculous as giddy.

Pulling on his gloves Keith shakes his head to clear away Lance’s bizarre suppositions, and he tackles the course with enthusiasm bordering on desperation. Keith had made it through once, muscles burning with exertion, sweat pouring into his eyes. He is considering redoing the ropes section when he hears the boom of Shiro’s voice over the music blasting in his ears.

Keith startles and pulls out his earbuds to jog over to Shiro, who is out for his own morning run.

“Hey,” Shiro’s eyes are tired and Keith feels a stab of guilt. “How’d you sleep?” His brother asks and Keith gives side-eye, because it is clear neither of them had gotten much rest. 

Ignoring Keith’s lack of response Shiro continues, “You were going pretty hard there, I didn’t want you to mess up your million dollar hands.” Keith looks down at his fingers, a stab moving through him. He knows Shiro is oblivious of the feelings it evokes when he teases Keith about things like this, and he breathes through the emotion that presses inside him at the words. His hands are mostly protected by the gloves, the callouses on the tips of his fingers have stopped burning. He shrugs looking up at Shiro, who despite being tired, seems genuinely cheerful.” 

“It’s time to cool down and hit the showers anyway.” Shiro says, in that light but commanding tone.

Keith quells the small feeling of annoyance of being told what to do, because he had been enjoying his workout, though recognizes if he is going to be ready in time, he should finish up. 

He falls into step beside Shiro who has slowed his pace to a jog.

“Seriously though, how are you this morning?” Shiro probes.

“Fine.” Keith says, keeping his eyes forward. It is the truth.

Shiro’s hand falls on Keith’s shoulder stopping both of them. “Keith?”

“Shiro, no. Just, No.” Keith says, resisting the urge to shake out of his brother’s hold. He meets the other man’s eyes and tries to convey his deeper meaning.. Keith had just calmed himself down. He isn’t getting into a discussion about all his messy confusion from last night. Not with his brother.

Shiro gives one of his long suffering sighs. The one that basically announces I-am-a-mature-adult-stuck-on-the-road-with-a-bunch-of-adolescent-rock-stars. It is given half heartedly.

Keith finds irony in how difficult it is to take his older brother seriously at this moment. The paternal attitude is well meant, if not irritating. It is borne of Shiro’s true desire to take care of the band, to fulfill his self appointed duty to protect and guide them. But it’s so incongruent with the fact his brother is blushingly, embarrassingly, in love and wants to get back to his boyfriend.

The part of Keith that isn’t thoroughly grossed out at whatever put a spring in Shiro’s step today,  is happy for the guy.   

“It’s fine.” he assures the older man. 

Shiro seems inclined to let it go.

—

After a quick shower Keith grabs another water bottle and a protein bar. He goes over his stuff, he is used to packing quickly and efficiently. He throws his carry on over his shoulder and checks his phone, only to notice that notifications are still off. Turning it on, multiple pings come through. Some links to world news from Pidge, Six separate ones from Matt in response to the message about meeting… the lady… in Europe, and one from said lady .  “Jeepers Matt, why can’t you put everything into just one text?” Keith mutters to himself. Peeling the wrapper off his breakfast. 

Matt’s texts are followed by some song suggestions, and Keith begins to download them so he can listen to them on the airplane. Tucking the phone in his back pocket, he avoids the elevator and heads downstairs.

—

Of course Lance is waiting by the bus alone. And to make matters worse, he is acting all jittery, muttering to himself and not meeting Keith’s eyes.

Wait a minute. They are both alone, and that provides an opportunity to sort this out right now. No weeks of tiptoeing around each other, and awkward moments until they finally have a big blow up about something else and finally talk about the kiss. No, they can deal with it here, now, before they get on the plane. 

"Actually this is… uh.. Good. We need to talk."

Keith tries to ignore the panic that flashes in Lance’s eyes. Propelled forward by his decision. It’ll be easier to just have the conversation now, no matter how hard. He’s already started. I’d be weird not to have it at this point.

Lance is muttering to himself again, and Keith is so laser focused on getting the words out, he doesn't catch any of it. 

“Huh?” Keith asks, wondering if he missed something important. 

He often misses important things.

“Nothing.” Lance says quickly. They guy is bouncing from foot to foot like a literal ball of stress.

"So, last night..." Keith presses forward.

Lance stares open-mouthed for a second, and Keith can see thoughts running through his mind at high speed. Keith stills, remembering how much Lance hates uncomfortable conversations, how overwhelmed he gets from them. His gut tells him to wait it out.

"You were absolutely right." Lance’s words fall out, almost on top of one another. “Too many drinks."

Thank god for the years of practice Keith has at schooling his features. Because even though those were the words Keith had expected, even though he had reminded himself again, and again, the previous night that it was just alcohol and Lance being lonely, Keith still feels the confirmation like a punch to the gut. 

This is good, Keith tells himself, clarity is good. He says as much to Lance.

Shiro was right last night, Keith is already off kilter, falling into Lance’s orbit right now could be devastating. Keith needs him too much. 

The conversation that follows is a blur, Keith just wanting to get onto the bus and put his earbuds in and find a place inside himself where he can process these feelings in peace, without an audience. 

But then they are getting lectured and it is fucking confusing.

When Shiro says “I am very disappointed in both of you.” Keith misses the humour in his brother’s eye. He feels himself start to shut down, he really needs to get away from people. Shiro must realize he has overplayed his hand, because he almost immediately continues with,

"Do you know exactly how much an art deco style chandelier costs to be made, especially when it is retrofitted for an elevator?"

What the actual…? 

Oh.my.god. 

The emotional ping pong of the past 12 hours could actually fire Keith into space. Kinetic energy vibrates through his system turning into laughter. Suddenly everything about the situation is hilarious. He presses a hand to his lips to hold in the laughter bubbling up his throat. If he meets either Lance’s or Shiro’s eyes he will lose it. Memories of the night before surface, of running through the hotel, of laughing, and daring. The look on Shiro’s face when the cherry landed in his cup. It is already starting to take on the rosy hue of all of his Lance memories. Fluttering around are his conversations with his brother, the texts to a woman already on the other side of the ocean. 

What is his life?

—

When they finally get on the plane, Keith feels like he could sleep for a month. He buys one of the eye covers and ignores Pidge’s ribbing about Lance rubbing off on him. He crashes, not even rousing to eat.

—

For some reason, Pidge and Matt like to share a room. Keith has never fully understood it, as a person who needs high levels of alone time just to function. Being around Pidge and Matt can sometimes be a bit overwhelming, especially when they have intense conversations that bounce around from topic to topic. Often it is hard for Keith to follow what they are saying, because they have so much shared context, overlapping interests, and shared areas of genius. It can feel isolating when the do that, because even if Keith had anything to add, he wouldn’t know how to say it. It’s like they have their own language.

On the other hand, they are also very cool to hang around. Especially the times where they work in parallel, in almost total silence, for hours. Keith appreciates these times the best, because… well… it is hard to explain. The silence is companionable, everybody is together, even though they are doing their own thing. There's a softness to it. Sometimes Pidge will lean against Keith while they work on their tablet. Even though they aren’t talking, there is an awareness and acceptance of each other’s presence. It’s safe. It’s comfortable. Keith can be reading, or writing lyrics, or just scrolling on his phone, but he’s with his friends and… It just feels nice.

“I am grateful for Holt style Magical Quiet Time.” Keith types into his phone. He bites his lip, because he knows what he has written is cringe . “Whimsical” Coran would call it. ‘Nobody is ever going to see it.’ He reminds himself. He stares another moment at the screen, his finger hovering over the delete button.

He is distracted when an alarm goes off on Pidge’s phone. Keith looks over as Pidge taps on the phone, unseeing, until it is silenced. They return their focus to soldering the circuit board for the robot they are making with Matt.  “What was the alarm for?” Matt asks, not looking away from the laptop he is typing on. 

“To remind me to eat.” Pidge says distractedly.

Almost in reaction to her statement, Keith’s stomach growls. Matt is due to leave for the venue soon, with the band following in a couple of hours. Food seems like a logical plan. He looks over at the siblings in expectation.

Both remain engrossed in their work. 

“You should probably eat then.” Matt says, after a long pause.

“In a minute.” Pidge murmurs, before hissing, having burned the tip of their finger with the soldering iron. 

Keith watches them. He tries to think of how to transition to a meal. Hunk usually starts making food and people are drawn to it, and him. Lance badgers Pidge, annoying the shit out of their friend until the path of least resistance is to just do what Lance wants. Shiro just tells people what to do, nicely, and they do it. Keith isn’t good at any of those things. 

His stomach twinges again, so he pulls up the room service menu on his phone. 

“They have lobster here.” Keith says aloud.

“You know they’re scavengers right? Literal bottom feeders?” Pidge supplies, deigning to look at Keith for a second.

“Ooookay.” Keith responds, giving Pidge a quizzical look, before returning to scrolling through the menu.

“Never eat seafood in a landlocked country.” Matt supplies, still typing. His glasses reflecting the light of his screen eerily.

“Germany isn’t landlocked.” Keith says after a moment. His plan isn’t working very well.

“I am going to get the schnitzel and frites.” Keith decides aloud.

“Order me the Flammkuchen.” Matt responds, again, without looking up from his screen. Keith doesn’t even ask how Matt knows what that is, or that it is on the menu. 

“Fiii-ne. I’ll have the lobster.” Pidge sighs, flopping backwards against the carpeted floor, stretching their arms outwardly as though they are being forced to stop working.

“I thought you said it was a bottom feeder?” Keith says, confirming the order.

“A delicious bottom feeder.” 

“Hmm” 

—

Even though there is a perfectly good dining area in the room, they sit on the floor in a pile of pillows to eat. Pidge has set themself up in front of an end table, hair pulled back, and lobster bib on. Keith is trying not to look at them, last time he looked up Pidge had butter dripping down their chin and was ripping the lobster claw in half bare handed. It is a bit disturbing.

“So you don’t eat seafood in a landlocked country?”  Keith asks Matt.

“I don’t eat seafood at all.” Matt responds seriously. Pidge snorts when he says it, which tells Keith there is a story behind that.

“Matt got the worst food poisoning ever, because he ate crab at a New York Diner.” 

Keith looks at Matt for more information. “Worst. Date. Ever.” Matt says, before taking a bite of his cheesy pizza thing. That wasn’t really the context Keith had been looking for.

“Monica.” Pidge laughed. OMG. “I can’t believe she talked you into getting Crab.”

“Hmm” Keith responds, taking a bite of his food to avoid having to add anything to the conversation.

They fall into silence again. And Keith finds he is actually curious about the details, “So she was a bad date because she made you get seafood.” 

“No, she was great, gorgeous, funny, smart.” Matt chuckles 

“So it was the worst date because…?” 

“Things went downhill once I puked on her shoes.” Matt. responds.

Pidge snorts again, and takes a break from devouring their dinner to add, “ Then you puked in her car, in the street, on our lawn.”

‘Okay, thank you Pidge.” Matt interrupts, good naturedly. “Anyway, I didn’t really feel that she’d be up for a second date after all that.”

“Hmm” Keith says again, the story not quite meeting his expectations. Though it was clear Pidge thought it was hysterical.

“How bout you Keith?” Matt asks with a grin, “Any dating horror stories?”

Keith wracked his brain for an interesting date story. “Not really, but I don’t usually take people out for food.”

“Good strategy.” Pidge said, waiving the lobster tail in emphasis at Matt.

“What do you usually do?” Matt asks, interested.

Keith feels his own brow furrow. “Movie, usually.” 

“Do you rent out the whole theater?” Matt says enthusiastically, leaning in.

“Um, Noooo.” Keith says, this is one of those times where he feels like he is missing something. Pidge has stopped enthusiastically eating and is watching him thoughtfully. “Usually we just stay in.”

“Stay in?!” Matt asks in shock at the same moment Pidge questions, “Who have you dated?” 

“I mean, I guess it makes sense, you don’t want the Galra Press crashing.” Matt shrugs, ignoring Pidge’s question.

“Does staying in really count as a date?” Pidge asks, but Keith is wary, because they have that look they get before they take apart a piece of new equipment to see how it works.

“Sure.” Keith says, a bit defensively, because he isn’t really an expert on this. “I mean, you know, Netflix and Chill?”

“Oh, No.” Pidge is actually trying to hide their laugh, though it may just be to prevent chewed lobster from spraying out over the room. “Keith.” Oh god, that is a pitying voice. What did Keith do that earned pity?

“That’s not a date.” They finally say.

“Sure it is.” Keith is panicking now, because Matt has stopped eating and is looking at Keith as though he is delicate, or a dumbass. Doesn’t really matter, because the look makes him feel squirrely. 

It’s a joke, right? One of their magic, mindmeld, jokes.

“No, no, Keith, Netflix and Chill is a euphemism for hooking up.” Pidge eyes are serious now, gentle. 

“It is not.” Keith says emphatically, pulling out his phone to google the phrase despite the feeling in the pit of his stomach. Then just staring at his screen in disbelief.

“So, did you actually use those words when…?” Matt’s eyes are as round as saucers behind his glasses. His voice tapers off.

They all sit in silence for a moment.

Not one of their comfortable silences.

Keith hates it.

“I guess that explains a lot of things.” Keith says finally, looking at the Urban Dictionary page on his phone. 

There is a moment’s pause before they all burst out laughing, and Keith can’t help himself, despite feeling like a total loser it is funny. 

“Dude.” Matt swats Keith on the shoulder, his eyes tearing in merriment. “We got to get you an actual date.”

Chapter Text

Keith sits on the floor of the sound booth as Matt types madly into his laptop. Beyond the half walls of the booth Keith can hear the echo of the team doing the load in. Clanging of metal scaffolding, the whir of dollies and voices calling out through the venue. 

Keth scuttles his back against the wall snugly and appreciates the rough texture of the polyester carpet tiles that line the floor and walls. Now that they’ve arrived in Munich, he feels less stressed, taking comfort in the familiar sounds of a concert set up.

The last twenty four hours had been panic inducing. Keith wasn’t sure if he was ready to meet Kara in person. But they were both going to be in Munich at the same time, and it seemed weird - wrong - rude, to tell her he wasn’t quite ready for that.

That said, the prospect of meeting up had him pacing into the wee hours of the night, listening to his own secret playlist, one that he was certain would worry Matt (and Shiro).

In the morning, Matt had to leave early, because a case of lights had dropped when being loaded at their last gig, and he needed to meet the replacement order. Keith had declined to head out with him and the crew, needing the private spaces on the bus to stew in peace. 

But then the bus had stalled and Keith had panicked. There was a point where he acknowledged he hadn’t been thinking straight. When it became clear they were going to miss meeting up he’d felt … relieved.

He had to tell his mind to stop playing out scenarios where he was deemed unworthy because the bus broke down. He had to stop listing all of his faults in his head, and force himself to write down things he liked about himself. Sometimes that worked, but today he couldn’t really believe it. 

It helped that Keith was having a separate crisis unrelated to seeing his mother. He lifts his chin, to tilt his head back at an angle so that he can see the main reason he is currently questioning all of his life choices. No. That isn’t fair. Lance isn’t the only reason Keith is tied up in knots, but, Keith thinks to himself with a wry smile, he is his favourite. 

Do you ever think about kissing me ?

Thinking about the night they left before the tour has been a useful distraction. When the thoughts and feelings about meeting Kara begin to overwhelm Keith he finds himself falling into fantasies about that night, about not stopping and being rational. He creates stories in his mind more ridiculous than any of the novels he sneakily loads onto his phone. He knows they are far from real, and maybe not the healthiest distraction, but it has helped alleviate the suffocating anxiety that sometimes comes up when he thinks about meeting his… 

…meeting Kara.

Keith knows that certain aspects of his own personality can be obsessive, or hyper focussed, and Lance takes up a lot of space in Keith’s mind. Right now, the other man is on stage with Hunk, and they are half horsing around, half getting a feel for the space. Lance likes to move around on a new stage. He calls it, “Getting a read on the venue vibe.” Keith purposefully rolled his eyes when Lance said it, because ridiculous phrases should not also be adorable. Besides, on a basic level, Keith understands. Moving around so much as a kid, Keith always appreciated a little time alone in a new space before being inundated by new faces, and dynamics.

“A picture would last longer.” Matt says dryly, a half grin on his lips as he checks connections and power on each of the boards in turn. 

“Every time someone takes Lance’s picture his ego gets bigger.” Keith says to hide his embarrassment. “It barely fits on the bus as it is.”

“Sure.” Matt shrugs, a knowing look in his eyes. 

Keith sighs and settles back into a more relaxed position. He feigns looking at his phone, but mostly he is just trying to settle his nerves. 

“You guys have been acting weird around each other, did something happen?” Matt asks, his eyes on the boards as he makes minute adjustments. He won’t really change anything from baseline until they do the sound check.

Keith weighs sharing the whole story with Matt, but decides to leave it at,”Yeah, kind of. A miscommunication.”

That makes Matt pause his movements and tilt his head in Keith’s direction, raising a single eyebrow up behind sandy curls. “A miscommunication?”

Keith rolls his eyes away at the teasing, but like a magnet they find Lance again. “Yeah.” He holds his face neutral, but the words hold regret.

“You ever think that maybe if you actually told him how you feel, the communication might be less… miss ?” Matt’s eyes are crinkled with humour, but the words are soft, kind. 

“How would’ve that worked for you?” Keith says flippantly, before freezing as he hears his own defensive words. Keith glances at Matt to make sure he didn’t unintentionally rub salt in a raw wound. Sighing in relief seeing the tech manager’s mouth still pulled into a half smile. Keith has come to understand that his sharp retorts sometimes have barbs and he has been trying to catch them before they snag on people’s tender places.

“Apples and Oranges.” Matt says, hands moving quickly over the boards.

The rest of the band has begun to congregate on stage, and Keith begins to pick himself up, sensing Shiro is looking for him to start the sound check. 

“Apples, applesauce, apple pie.” Keith murmurs as he heads away, hearing Matt’s chuckle follow him out of the booth.

…

The sound check and first run through are a bit bumpy, the team resettling as they figure things out for the European tour. Once it is done, they break for dinner. Keith considers trying to catch up with Lance, Pidge and Hunk as they head out, but Shiro wants to check in,  and catches him as he heads off stage. Keith had been trying to avoid this, because it was embarrassing how much he freaked out when the bus broke down today, and he’d like to just forget the whole thing, thank you.

Once ducking out of the awkward conversation with Shiro, Matt was just wrapping up with his team and sending them off to break for dinner before the show. The two of them end up in each other’s company. Which is fine, because Matt has just sent a bunch of songs for the Diva Project and Keith was inspired by one of them to write about… stuff. 

It is okay talking to Matt, because he seems to know times when to ask about the more personal stuff, and times when to steer clear of those topics. Recently Ketith shared some writing with Matt and he didn’t point out the obvious connections in Keith’s music to his feelings. He commented on the phrasing, and provided feedback on different chord progressions.  It was still very uncomfortable to be seen, but Keith had been encouraged by his therapist to make sure he had friends that know what is happening as he reconnects with his estranged parent.  

Keith didn’t really ever go looking for friends, but Matt had noticed Keith’s focus on Lance several months ago, soon after the Grammy’s. At the time Matt had been nursing a broken heart and Keith had made some really bad choices. Matt hadn’t come right out to say that he knew Keith was being a jealous idiot, but he had saved him from making an ass of himself enough that he’d earned Keith’s trust. Conversely, for some reason, Matt found Keith hilarious with his caustic quips and dry comments. 

It was very helpful to have a relatively uncomplicated friendship right now. Since Kara first reached out, Shiro has been overly invested in every nuance of Keith’s reactions to her and her reintroduction into his life. Pidge has also been very protective, probably because they had been close to Keith as he navigated the tumult of his teenage years. A time when not having his parents had been especially difficult. Their reaction had delayed Keith from sharing these most recent developments with the rest of his bandmates; he was having enough trouble dealing with his own emotions, he had no idea how to manage everyone else's when they found out. Matt singularity seemed able to take things as they came, and for this Keith was grateful. 

The gig comes off smoothly, and as Keith leaves the stage, the band is congratulating each other with back slaps and hugs. Keith, out of habit, leans into Lance, nudging him with his shoulder. The other man looks up, surprised, and it occurs to Keith that while Lance takes up much of his conscious thoughts, the two hadn’t really spent much time together since that night before leaving on tour. Even as he ponders this, Lance falls over himself to pack up and move away from Keith. A hollowness enters Keith’s chest at this response, but he pushes it down. 

Back in his room, showered, he pulls out his writing journal, but it lays open on the bed. The feelings he kept at bay for the past hour swamp him and it all feels like too much. He tries to remember a breathing exercise, but cannot stay with it. The restlessness feels like it is pulling him in every direction. A song tickles his memory and he searches his phone to find the version playing in his head. 

He pulls out his guitar to match the piano chords and sing it. Tears running down his cheeks as he finds a place inside him that isn’t overrun. 

...

After another night with only 5 hours sleep. Keith finds himself in a hotel gym taking out his frustration on a punching bag. He had run on the treadmill and did some lifting, but this was the only thing providing a modicum of release. In bed, the night before, Keith was unable to turn off his brain, he’d tried to turn his mind to the fantasies of Lance that had eased his tension before. However, the memory of Lance pulling away from him after the concert filled him with discomfort and a dirty feeling of shame. 

Lance wants to be friends, not anything more. Keith can’t keep using his feelings for his friend to distract from real life, especially when Lance isn’t interested in the dreams Keith harbors for the two of them. He’s hoping he can be heading out of the gym when Shiro shows up, because he is not interested in discussing any of this, and he is sick of his brother’s brow furrowed in concern every time he sees him. The very thought of it draws out a series of jabs into the abused sand bag in front of him. 

Luckily he doesn’t run into Shiro until they are climbing on to the bus that morning. Shiro looks stressed and, for once, it has nothing to do with Keith. It turns out their show is oversold and this has created a huge headache for the management team. Keith trusts they’ll figure it out, and is relieved that he can disappear into one of the bunks at the back of the bus without anyone noticing. 

Still wound tight, despite being exhausted Keith pulls out his guitar and plays through the versions of Unwell and Good Enough that he has added to his private Diva Project List. They do not bring the same relief as the night before, but his body seems to settle. The hum of the bus lulling him into a meditative state. It isn’t long before he is just messing around on the guitar. Trying new progressions, practicing some difficult chord changes, just playing to play. 

By the time he hears the soft knock on the door, he is drowsy, ready for a nap.

He is surprised it is Lance, because of the way he pulled away last night

Lance seems uncertain, so Keith mirrors his quiet mood. He catches Lance’s look of longing as he puts away the guitar, but despite how much he would do to reassure the other man, music is a bit too raw to share, especially with someone who could decimate Keith so easily.  

“So, they haven’t got it sorted yet.” Keith muses, based on Lance’s muted mood.

Lance’s response to the negative is unsurprising, but not alarming. Keith knows they will figure it out, but also doesn’t see any way in which he can help, other than staying out of the way. 

He does enjoy a moment of petty glee at Shiro’s frustration with having to deal with Mr. Slav. When you are known to be the hotheaded younger brother to an older sibling who has saintly levels of patience, there is relief, delight even, that someone can get under their skin. Really, Keith is just happy to know his brother is human, Shiro’s irritation with Mr. Slav proves it. 

Lance, while also finding Shiro and Slav’s dynamic hilarious, cannot just let Keith savor it. "You shouldn't be enjoying that though. What about family loyalty?" He says, giving Keith a sideways kick.

It is an old habit for Keith just to fire back responses while tousling back, and the exchange serves to settle his system. They fight with pillows and tickle each other mercilessly and Keith is pulled from the final dregs of chaos in his mind and body, into this beautiful moment where Lance’s smile and sparkling eyes are everything. Keith wins the tousle only for Lance to claim victory. Keith protests, but half heartedly, because the sleepless night is catching up to him. 

The last thing he sees as he drifts off is Lance’s smile. He wonders if he imagines a gentle hand brushing hair from his face.

Chapter Text

It is Shiro who wakes Keith and tells him where they are playing that night. He feels fully outside of himself as Shiro asks for the umpteenth time if he is okay. When the bus finally parks in front of the domed stadium in Amsterdam, it takes him ten minutes to feel ready to open the compartment door. He has triple checked that he has his phone, his wallet, his jacket and his guitar. He even made sure to tuck in his effing shirt. He checks the mirror for the third time and tries to imagine what he would look like to a woman who hasn’t seen him since he was a toddler. 

When he finally makes  it out to the main aisle of the bus he is surprised to find Lance still there. It is almost a relief to see the dopey guy giving himself finger guns into the rearview mirror. Keith watches with a bemused smile. It is clear Lance still doesn’t notice, because to Keith’s discomfort, he begins talking to his reflection. 

“Who is the most handsome, debonair, suave guitar player to grace the stage? That's right, me, Lancey Lance McLain." Keith is compelled to interrupt, to save them both from more embarrassment. "What are you doing?" He asks, bemusement contained. 

In the past he would be fully annoyed with the existence of another person in his space when he is feeling so disconnected and overwhelmed. Especially since he carefully strategized to exit from an already empty bus. However, there is a comfort in Lance’s foibles and Keith is grateful for the steadiness he feels when he meets the other man’s humour-filled eyes. Something has settled in their wrestling match/pillow fight and Keith needs that stability right now. 

Lance continues with the verbal sparring, and Keith answers automatically. This is a constant. It feels safe.

But no sooner than when he gets off the bus does the feeling of floating return. For a moment he cannot get his bearings, but Matt notices and swings around to his side. “Hey man, you nervous?” Keith huffed out, “A bit.” He realized it may have sounded accusatory by the way Matt’s eyes shift guiltily. “I am sorry to spring this on you. I know you thought you’d have a bit more time to prepare.” Keith nods, but doesn’t have words. He knows this was the best solution. He knew that Kara would be in Amsterdam the same time as him, that Norlox had played here last night. He had just thought they would be in different venues.

Keith barely registers Matt’s quick hug, other than to process that they don’t usually hug, but then Shiro is there, and seems to know Keith needs a guide right now. 

One sentence runs on a continuous loop in Keith’s head, “She is here, somewhere in this building.”

Keith is a sponge for the tension around him. The crew is stressed, the band is on edge, even Coran is twisting his mustache with a rare intensity. Keith doesn’t even try to use his breathing techniques. To be honest, the idea doesn’t even occur to him. He is aware enough to know that he hasn’t been pushed to automatic pilot like this for years. He thinks the last time was when Shiro went into the hospital. With that realization, the numbness begins to fade and a sense of dread sets in. Anxiety hits full force. He cannot focus on anything, even playing music doesn’t help. The urge to run is strong. Then Lance is in his face, yelling about the song, providing a focal point for all of Keith’s emotions, and this offers clarity. Where does Lance get off? Who decided he needed to ensure everyone is at peak performance levels? Why does he get to emote all over everyone all the time? Especially Keith?  Keith sees red for a moment and it dissipates with Shiro’s warning voice and solid grip. Keith has to force his fists to unclench and he takes in Lance’s tense stance, his hard eyes.

Keith feels a moment of disappointment because he and Lance had just found some solid ground this afternoon. But the emotion is too soon overrun with the other feelings he had been holding at bay. Everything in the room sounds too loud, the clanging bars and the echo of voices. Shiro is pulling him away, and, at first,  Keith resists instinctually, but Shiro puts his prosthetic arm over Keith’s shoulders in a way that blocks out some of the sound. He steadies himself to follow Shiro backstage, where there are still voices but the echoes have abated. They keep moving until they get to halls with less harsh lighting and carpeting that mutes sound. Keith is working on finding his breathe, but suddenly… suddenly…

She is right there. He knows it is her, because he remembers her eyes, because he sees them when he looks in the mirror every day. He takes in every detail. She is taller than him in her heels, maybe even without them. Her hair is straight and shiny with purple dyed ends that bring out her eyes. It is pulled into a messy ponytail, even though he is sure, just by looking at her, that she had started the day with it down. She wears glasses with semi clear frames, and she had been clearly wearing a pants suit, but had removed the jacket. She is in a purple camisole and black business slacks accented in the same purple. She is carrying a clipboard and stacks of printed notes, stapled together. 

It is clear from the look on her face she wasn’t expecting to run into Keith here. They both spend an awkward moment staring at each other. Kara seems to recover first. “I have notes for your crew, I was just bringing them out.” She gestures with the pile of paper in her hand. Shiro nudges Keith with his shoulder and out of pure habit, Keith nudges him back with added force.

This brings a light laugh from Kara. To Keith’s complete dismay, Shiro covers the awkwardness by saying, “Thank you, we are so grateful that you were able to accommodate us like this.” 

Keith’s face is burning, and at this moment he hates his brother with an unfair level of vitriol.

“We are happy to be able to do it. Especially with you being so accommodating to let Sam join our team with such short notice. Really, we owe Altea.” Kara responds genuinely.  

Keith feels a moment of despair. He really doesn’t know how to do this without screwing it up.

Kara turns to him with kind eyes.

 "I am so sorry we missed you in Zurich Keith. We stayed as long as our schedule would allow."

Keith tries desperately to think of something to say. "The bus broke." Is all he can manage. 

"Um, Yes, we had some technical difficulties that delayed us that day." Shiro adds.

"Well I am very grateful we will have this opportunity to work together and maybe we'll get a chance to talk." Kara says. 

Keith grapples for words when a loud “Hey!” calls from behind him. 

Suddenly Lance and Hunk are there, and it is all Keith can do to not panic. His worlds are colliding and he hasn’t had a chance to tell people yet. But it is clear Lance knows Kara as the singer ‘Krolia.’ The next few minutes are painfully awkward as Lance explains how big a fan he and Hunk are. Keith is sweating, he isn’t ready for them to know that… who.. Krolia… Kara… who she is.

Lance puts his foot in it, mentioning something about the Zarkon, and Kara is sending them all packing. 

Keith cannot get out of there fast enough. What a disaster. His heart is pounding in his ears, but not enough to drown out Lance’s footsteps. He begins an inner dialogue of ‘Leave it alone Lance. Please just leave it alone.’  Which doesn’t work at all. Lance catches up to him as they reach the doors. Keith looks around for a place to run, but Lance is RIGHT THERE.

"Dude," He exclaimed, "You know KROLIA? How could you have never mentioned this before?"

"I don't really know her." 

"Looked like she knew you." Lance swings out the door in front of Keith, the noise of it grating Keith’s nerves. He wants to punch something so bad.  Doesn’t Lance know Keith just screwed up the most important meeting of his life. A feeling of self loathing swamps Keith, followed by intense nausea.

"Seriously, what was that about? You know we love her and you were going to meet her in Zurich? And you didn't tell us?" 

How do you tell someone that? Keith thinks to himself. How do you tell people you are going to meet your mother? But Lance looks hurt, confused, and it hits Keith in the gut, because he had so badly wanted to tell Lance that night, but he didn’t, and then they kissed and it got all complicated. There was no way to bring it up after that.

"Lance, it's not..." "It's not like we're…” How do you even explain this? “...friends."

Lance tilts his head in a look of disbelief. "She seemed pretty friendly."

Keith feels every ounce of fight go out of his system. When did this all get so messed up? He wanted to tell Lance everything, but not here, not like this. So he shares the smallest, safest piece of the truth.

"She knew my dad, okay?" 

"Oh."

It was enough, Keith can tell by the way Lance’s body shifts, from defensive to almost nurturing. It was like Lance can suddenly see Keith’s struggle and wants to help. Keith feels a small sense of relief. 

"Yeah, man, cool. She knew your dad. That's cool."

—

Despite the disastrous first meeting, dinner and hanging out on the patio seem to go well.

Keith very quickly realizes that neither he or his mother are very good at carrying on a conversation with an almost stranger who is also your next of kin. But Shiro, despite all his reservations, driven by a sense of honour, politeness and natural diplomacy, works to ease the flow of conversation. Norlox is a true extrovert. Whenever things get quiet or awkward, they jump in with a great story, something neutral and lively, almost always funny. 

With everyone around, the meeting stays social, they don't delve into deep family secrets. It isn't an awkward talk show reunion. Keith is surprised, because it soon became clear that, while most of his band doesn't know about their familial connection, it appears that many in Kara’s close circle do. Keith feels awkward, because it is hard enough to assess if he is meeting her expectations, he doesn't want to grapple with everyone else's.

But at the end of the night, Kara asks if she can give him a hug, and he accepts. Then she asks if they could text more regularly and set up times to call each other. Keith agrees. To his surprise, tears sprang into Kara’s eyes.

‘Thank you Keith, thank you for giving me this chance.”

That stuns him. The whole time he thought he was the one getting a chance, the one being assessed.

Keith feels like a shaken pop can, so when Shiro asks if they can walk up to their rooms together he agrees.

“So?” Shiro asks, expectantly.

Keith doesn’t say anything for a long time. 

Finally, “I am going to say something, and I don’t want you to respond.” He looks at his brother seriously, his eyes full of warning. “I mean it.”

Shiro nods solemnly, “I promise.” 

“She wants to get to know me.” Keith says, the surprise seeping into his voice. “Like, she’s grateful for the chance to do it.” 

“Well yeah, “ Shiro begins, and Keith shoots him a warning look. “But…”  

Keith actually growls.

Shiro raises a hand in acquiescence, but Keith can tell he’s still busting at the seams. 

“Shiro,” Keith begins with a sigh, “I know how you think these things should be, and I know what you believe I deserve…” Keith looks for the right words, “I just didn’t want to expect it.” The words fill him with clarity. “Because things don’t always work out that way for me.”

He can feel the tears smarting in his eyes, and can see them reflected in Shiro’s.

“I know you mean well, but it doesn’t always help for you to say it out loud.” He can see this hurts his brother, and that he wants to argue, but he also promised not to, and Shiro keeps his promises. 

They stop in front of Keith’s door, and Shiro still doesn’t speak, but opens his arms for a hug. Keith falls into it. The hug is tight, the biggest a bear hug can be (without involving Hunk). They are both sniffling and Keith’s shoulder is getting slightly pinched where Shiro’s prosthetic meets his arm, but they stay there an extra minute, communicating without words. 

When they pull back Shiro asks, “Are you ready to tell the others?” 

A smile pulls on Keith’s lips, thinking of Lance’s confused expression that afternoon. “Yes.”

Chapter Text

“I don’t know who to tell this to.” Pidge says, eyes focused on their computer screen. 

The three of them have settled in Pidge and Matt’s room, having just finished a late breakfast.

“It’s probably a mistake to tell you two, but I just....” Pidge’s brow drops into a furrow behind glasses that reflect blue from the computer screen. Their hands tap a few short key combinations bringing up multiple data files, spreadsheets, contracts, shareholder agreements and articles from business pages. 

"Just look."

It seems wisest to stay silent and let them explain. Keith’s  friend is clearly stressed, pulling at their hair. 

“Jesus.” Matt says, pulling the laptop toward himself, and flicking through several screens and tabs. Keith catches a glimpse of a scan of a partnership agreement and service contracts. 

“Does this mean?” Matt begins. 

“Yes.” Pidge interrupts. “It does.”

Keith shifts uncomfortably, because he isn’t sure what is happening  until his eyes catch a familiar name on one of the documents. “Wait.” He says, pulling the computer away from Matt.  “Lotor runs Kaartje Dinges? What the actual fuck?" 

“Yes, also - Why, and How the actual fuck?” Matt muses.

Keith flips through the documents trying to figure out what they all mean, piecing together that Lotor has recently acquired controlling interest in an online ticket sales platform for smaller European venues. 

“Doesn’t he have some kind of actual job? Like a promoter or something?  Why is he running ticket sales?”

“He calls himself a publicist.” Pidge says, making finger quotes before pulling the computer back and beginning to flip through the documents. “He supposedly works with some smaller bands, but he seems more interested in slinking around Altea’s Board of Directors and making Allura uncomfortable.” 

“Do you think he somehow oversold the show on purpose?” 

“Probably.” Pidge shrugs. “The question is why?”

“We should sue him or something, right?” Keith asks, perplexed.

“Well, the band is pursuing legal action against the venue, because our contract is with them.” Matt says thoughtfully. “Once that is worked out, it will be up to them to get remuneration from Lotor, or his company.”

“So we do… nothing?” Keith feels frustration bubbling up at the idea of the band being messed with.

“How did this happen, how did we not know it was Lotor?” Keith says frustrated. 

“The are a third party partner and as far as I can tell this company was started by a kid on a computer. Lotor just bought it out I guess, but .” Pidge says simply. "I mean, they really didn't need to tell us who owns the company."

“We have to tell Allura.” Keith says heatedly. “He’s trying to cause trouble.”

Matt and Pidge share a look. Matt sighs deeply, “Yeah, we known for while he’s up to something, this is more evidence, but if we tell Allura now, she will have to share it with the Executive, because she has fiduciary responsibilities. They’ll tell the Board, and that may backfire.

“We have proof that he owns the ticket agent that screwed up our gig.”

Pidge pushes her glasses up her nose, and faces Keith seriously. “And we sold more tickets because of it. Financially we are ahead, and the collaboration with Norlox created buzz in the press. It's possible he Board won’t care that he lied and caused us all kinds of stress because we came out on top. That remains, even if we still pay the venue we were originally booked at before moving to the stadium.

“Wait, what?” Keith’s leans forward, hands forming fists on the table, “Why would we do that?” 

“They’re saying that us moving the show was a breach of contract.” Matt answers. “They want us to pay the rental fee and damages for lost income on concessions and liquor sales.” 

Pidge shrugs and continues, “They are counting on us not wanting to go to court, because it might mean bad press.”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.” Keith says, pushing back in his chair. “So we might have to pay the venue that screwed us over AND this whole shit show could make Lotor look good?” Keith asks incredulously, knowing the truth of it even as he said the words. 

“Unless… “ Pidge says, closing the laptop and meeting Keith’s eyes, “We figure out exactly what he is up to and get evidence that it is no good.”

“You want my help with that?” Keith says dryly, a heaviness in his stomach recalling Lotor's keen interest in him.

Pidge just nods.

Keith sighs, leaning his head back on the tub chair. 

“If we are going to try and sort this out we are going to need Shiro on board.” Keith says before sitting back up. He's thinking of his brother's worried frowns over the past few months, and the stress it has caused him at Altea. If they cannot bring Allura into the loop, they’ll need his insight into what has already gone down. 

“Are you sure?” Matt asks seriously. “He’s not going to be comfortable keeping this a secret from Allura.” 

“I am not sure any of us are happy about that.” Pidge says, a frown pulling tight across their features.

---

The three had left with no real plan other than to find a time over the next few days to bring Shiro into the loop. Keith is actually relieved to have a project to focus on outside of mooning over Lance and stressing over everything to do with Kara. 

Of course Matt had put ridiculous music on the DP playlist, and his entire band is a bunch of kindergarteners. Despite the lightness in his heart, he tells himself he didn't find it funny that his friends had managed to tease him using a Dr. Suess rhyme.  He especially didn't find it adorable that Lance slipping in a joke about an elevator.

Chuckling, he settles in his favorite bunk and flips open his writing journal to a blank page. Unfortunately words have never come as quickly for him as the music. A melody is teasing at the edge of his thoughts though, and he pulls out his Dad’s old acoustic guitar to try and suss it out. He is trying to get a sense of who his parents were. His mother had given him some hints last night through text. His memories are like sunbeams through poplar leaves, dappled and impossible to catch. 

He decides to just play, and the tune that comes out is simple, innocent really. Soft, light, notes, optimistic. “Young love.” he thinks and jots the words down before going back to strumming. He plays through a few different chords and hits on something different, not heavy, just different.

And the door bursts open with a thud. 

Keith feels as though he has been awakened suddenly, its that same disoriented feeling with his heart pounding in his throat and ears. 

Lance looks… like a cartoon character. Overly bright, one thousand watts of artificial light. Keith struggles to adjust to the sudden interruption. Lance is talking but the words bounce off the walls, Keith fails to catch any of them. 

There is a pause, “Hey…?” Keith says into the space, the word echoing inside his own head.

Lance is talking and his body language is awkward and umm… unusual. Keith still can't catch the words, but he can tell something is wrong. He's never sure how to handle these situations. In the past he would just escape as soon as possible, but he is worried enough to give it a shot. 

“Are you… o-kay?” Keith asks. The question is awkward in its execution, but at least it's out there. And for a split second he is just relieved that he was able to ask... until Lance crumples in front of Keith .

"No."

Shit, Lance isn’t okay, and before Keith can get anxious about how to support his friend in a crisis,

"It's just ever since we.. ugh.. You know…"

Oh. That.

Lance can’t even say the word. And Keith feels that anger start, because in emotional turmoil, that is something he knows how to traverse.

"Kissed?" Keith supplies the word. His face falling into a mask because alarm bells are going off in Keith’s brain. Shit. Shit. Shit. Keith's brain runs through several exit strategies. How do I get out of this conversation? But wait, they talked this out before. They sorted this all out already. Go back to that.

"You said it was just a mistake, that we should just forget it."

"Yes." Lance agrees. "And I think I am right about that. Don't you?" 

Fuck no, please don’t ask that. Not in that unsure voice, not with that look in your eyes. Even though Keith slams the door on a small hopeful twinge in the region of his chest, his anger dissipates. However, That box needs to stay closed. He just met Kara for god sakes. He’s about to do some stealth investigation on Lotor. Lance doesn’t even really want this. Protect yourself. Deflect.

"I don't understand Lance, if it was just a mistake, what is the problem?"

Shit, that felt like a challenge. Did he just challenge Lance? Bad idea Keith.

"The problem is I don't even know how to act around you now. Like, one kiss and I am all weird and uncomfortable." 

You gotta be kidding me. This. Fucking. Guy. .. I will give you weird and uncomfortable. Wait... he doesn’t know, does he? He can’t know. Keith focuses on placing the guitar beside him, tries to steady his heart beat. He clears his face of emotion. This time, he doesn't care that his words are a gauntlet thrown. 

"That sounds like it is a you problem."

"No, no, no, no, NO." Lance insists, pushing into Keith's space. "You are acting weird to me too." Lance counters, pointing first to Keith's and then to his own chest. "Don't deny it, because you can't."

Keith surveys what he has retained from this conversation once again. Does Lance know? Keith wracks his recent memories, what would have given him away?

"How? How am I acting different?" Keith tries to keep it defiant instead of defensive. Lance will push harder if he senses Keith is hiding something.

"Like this, right now. And what the HELL is the DIVA PROJECT?" 

"And, and, and that whole thing with Krolia?"

"Like, what even was that?" 

Keith almost goes dizzy with relief. Lance hasn’t figured out Keith’s feelings. Keith has been acting weird, because he was meeting Kara. Of course, he was in that whole bubble of anxiety, and he remembers now that he can tell Lance all about it. 

But first he needs to get some stable ground beneath him. He feels uncomfortable giving Lance the overview of the Diva Project. He explains that Matt thought of it and how it has been helping him deal with emotional stuff that has been coming up. He doesn’t share that Matt first suggested the project as a way for Keith to get over his unrequited crush on Lance. Keith is actually grateful that the project offers a new way to express himself. Finding a song that reflects his feelings much less embarrassing than the other options therapists have suggested to him. If Matt asks how he is feeling now, Keith can just send a song, and Matt gets it. Fuck Shiro and his effing "Emotions Cue Cards." 

"You're dealing with big emotions?" Lance asks.

Keith did say something like that, didn't he? See, communicating with songs is much easier than navigating this kind of conversation full of emotional land mins. Maybe it is the fear of stepping on one , or another reason Keith cannot explain, that he defers a little longer share about about finding his mother. It't trite to say his current intensity is only about meeting Kara. It feels impossible to share everything with context, especially with Lance reactive and vulnerable. The overload of thoughts turns Keith's stomach sour and his inadequacy communicating about these things overwhelms him.

"Uh, well DUH!" Keith says, self effacing, "I have a bit of a backlog." He says, imagining a stock pot, close to boiling over. Keith leans back, his mind finding that shadow place he is so used to, "You know, 'the dark, dangerous and moody member of the band, the one with the emotionally-starved childhood.'" As Keith quotes the Galra Press article from months ago, for the first time he wonders what it must have been like for Kara to read things like this. God, he realizes how much that must have hurt.

"What the hell Keith? Since when do you let fucking Zarkon's magazine define you?"

This is classic Lance, especially with Keith. Even at their worst times, when Lance would go for the jugular in an argument with his bandmate, he would also defend him (and any other of his friends) rabidly. A small part of Keith knows it is a disservice to his friend that interprets this reaction as Lance's innate need to defend the people in his inner circle, but it is so easy to fall back into that shadow place in his mind. He knows he is being unfair to Lance when he asks.

"What about that isn't true?"

He can see Lance's desire to argue clash against his honest nature, and while it sends a shot of white hot pain through Keith's chest, it gives him the strength to keep Lance at arms length, to not give into the hopeful longing his questions about their kiss have stirred.

"I thought that…" Keith watches intently as Lance's throat bobs "I thought that we worked stuff out… you know… writing… together?"

Keith feels the walls that he has just reinforced waver in the face of the other man's stark honesty and vulnerability. Keith's own longing is so deep it seems alive. Of course he wants to write about his feelings with Lance, but he cannot without laying bare this deep and abiding love that Keith has for him. The irony is almost beautiful, poetic even. 

Keith really wishes his friend could handle knowing about these feelings, but he’s played out all the scenarios, the pity, the guilt, the ”why don’t we try it” and it all leaves a hole in Keith so deep he cannot fathom surviving it. Pity is a vat of poison and Keith has more than once accepted a cup out of desperation for love and acceptance. It never comes from a place of respect, it's sugary falseness always makes him feel small and ashamed. He knows not to imbibe, even when it would be so tempting to have Lance's continued attention. Shame and guilt are his current albatross, as he navigates Kara's quiet apologies and his own feeling about everything Shiro has deferred and given up for his younger brother. Hardest of all, Keith has been in enough situations where foster parents thought they would ‘give it a shot’ at loving Keith and well…

"There are some things I can't work out with you Lance."

Keith knows this hurts the other man. He knows it. Because for Lance, being included is everything and he isn't surprised when Lance's rejoinder is, "Apparently you can share them with Matt. Who you barely spent any time with before…" 

"Matt guessed."

Explaining his friendship with Matt is hard to do with Lance. With Lance everything seems complicated, and with Matt, everything seems simple. He doesn’t want to hurt the other man more so he glosses over his growing friendship with Matt, implying it all happened by chance, not the two of them seeking each other out as confidents because they both fell in love with people who see them as just a friend. 

It is Lance who brings the conversation back to Kara.

"Does the Diva project have anything to do with Krolia?"

The earnest question makes Keith laugh.

"Well it didn't originally, but I guess it does now."

And that is when he finally tells Lance who Kara is. And Lance’s reaction is difficult, because Keith can see it takes a while to sink in. Actually, Lance’s response is so close to Keith’s own initial response that he is disarmed by it. Many of his original feelings bubbling to the surface, ones he had been careful to manage only in the quiet hours of sleepless nights.

 "How?" 

"I think probably the usual way." He tries to joke, "Though, I didn't ask for details." 

Lance doesn’t laugh. He  is so there, so in the thick of these emotions with Keith. 

"Did she explain? " Lance asks gently, kindly. It breaks Keith a little more, because Shiro and Pidge couldn’t hide their anger at her, their judgment when they asked the same question.

 "Why she… you know… why she… ?" 

Suddenly Keith’s defenses drop, because it has been so awful wanting to defend her, but having that question banging on all his insides. Why? Why? Why did you leave?

He tries to tell Lance what Kara has shared so far, but it sounds small, not enough explanation for the 17 years he spent without a mother, even to his own ears. 

"Does that…help?"

Keith meets Lance's eyes for a moment and cannot hold them. Lance’s heart is breaking for him and Keith doesn’t want that. But he also is so grateful to be seen, to have someone who is just there, with him, in this maze it is trying to navigate, with surprises around every corner. He doesn’t feel like he has to defend Kara to Lance, so it is safe to share this part.

 "I dunno," Keith sighs, "I mean, I guess it helps to know she always loved me. But it doesn't change that I spent years believing that…" Keith stopped, looking for the right words. "It is just hard to be someone who gets… left."

Then he is wrapped in Lance’s arms, and it is the safest place he can think of to be with the storm of emotions rolling through him. Lance murmurs comforting, beautiful words, presses his lips to Keith’s temple. It is everything he’s needed since finding out his mother was alive and wanted to see him. 

---

“Let me get this straight, you three are planning an undercover operation to figure out why Lotor oversold our show in Amsterdam?” Keith scowls, because Shiro is enjoying this conversation too much.

“Aren’t you a little bit concerned that he was involved in that?” Keith is incredulous.

“I think it is obvious that, like his father, he likes to stir up shit. I don’t think we need subterfuge to figure that out.” 

“Pidge thinks it's more than that.” Matt says seriously. “Lotor is cozying up to Altea’s subsidiaries, winning and dining the leadership teams.

The three men are sitting on the stage at the venue, finishing off a dinner of burgers and fries. Pidge has been setting up the new midi, and had rolled their eyes at Matt enough times that he decided to join Shiro and Keith’s conversation. 

“Altea doesn’t have subsidiaries.” Shiro pushes back. “Their affiliate companies are more like members, who sign up to share resources providing a percentage of their revenues. Not that it matters. And hobnobbing with label reps is is something publicists do.”

“Lotor is up to something.” Keith asserts stubbornly.

“I am sure he is, I am just not sure it is worth our time to… investigate. ” Shiro gestures.

Keith bristles.

“We don’t even move in his circles, how do you plan to keep tabs on him?”

“Well Pidge is already tracking him, and we figured Keith could use Lotor’s interest in…” 

“Hell, the fuck, NO!” Shiro interrupts Matt, his demeanor shifting from playful to protective in a moment. 

“I am not going to date him or anything.” Keith pushes back.

“Keith, you are not an agent of espionage. You are a guitarist, on tour, with your band. And this is starting to sound reckless and dangerous.” Shiro says, as though this statement ends the conversation.

“Two of the things I am best known for.” Keith says, crossing his arms and looking away, jaw set.

Shiro chooses not to respond.

“Look Shiro, give us a week to see if we have more to go on or if Lotor’s actions show he has a larger agenda. His involvement in this oversold show was a bit much if the only goal was cause the tour a headache.” Matt’s tone is persuasive. 

Shiro looks ready to push back, but Keith sees the moment he gives in. Hands held in front of him, in a placating gesture. “Fine, but if nothing comes up, you all promise that we’ll drop this.”

“Of course.” Matt says easily.

“Keith?” Shiro prompts.

Keith’s arms are still crossed and he doesn’t even turn his head back to say “Whatever.” 

He looks so much like a teenaged version of himself that Shiro has to smile.

---

After the show, Keith feels alight. Not his usual insomnia. The day had been a good one. Finally clearing the air with Lance about Kara, hanging out with the band on the bus and after the show. Sharing about Kara with the rest of the group, as they gathered for post show drinks in the hotel’s private lounge. 

At first Hunk was stupefied by the announcement, but accepted it quickly, giving Keith the biggest hug and saying, “Well that makes sense, you are kind of a musical genius.”

Coran cried, it was embarrassing. Allura seemed surprised, and a bit withdrawn, but she did give Keith a kind smile and a hug.

But the most amazing thing was seeing Shiro on the drums, playing together. The memory of it has Keith searching for songs with a drum part that Shiro might enjoy. 

He sees Matt’s text right away. 

Matt: U up?

Yeah. Wassup?

Matt: Pidge snoring like a lumberjack, can I come to yours?

Sure

---

Matt arrives a few moments later, in Buzz lightyear pajamas and his hair sticking out in all directions.

“Nice pjs.” Keith teases.

Matt’s answer is a giant yawn. “Can I puleeze crash here? ”

“Sure, I was just going to try to hit the hay. But I am up and down a lot, so I may be a bad roommate too.”

“Coudn be worse.” Matt says sleepily. “Sounds like a freight train over there.”

“You wanna?” Keith gestures to the bed. 

“Nah, I’ll take the couch.” Matt says digging extra blankets and pillows out of the closet and immediately building a nest on the sofa and settling in.

Keith slips into the bathroom to wash up and grabs a glass of water before settling into the bed and turning off the light.

Having someone in his space is a new experience. Not that Keith hasn’t shared a room before, but it has been a while, and never while being on tour. He hears Matt adjusting, pillows, blankets, getting comfortable.

“M, cannask you sumthing?” Matt’s voice carries sleepily to Keith.

“Yeah, sure.” Keith figures it’s fine, he’s still wide awake.

“You weren’t gunna date Lotor to get the info?” 

“Ew no.” Keith recoils at the thought. “Wait, was that the plan?”

Matt chuckles, “Na, there was no plan. I realized that, it felt kinda stupid when we talked to Shiro about it.”

“I guess.” Keith says, though still feeling righteous about catching Lotor at whatever he is up to.

They sit in the darkness with their thoughts for a moment.

“Woulda been a good way for you to finally have an actual date though.” Matt supplies, he sounds barely awake.

“I guess.” Keith replies, frowning. He hadn’t really thought about his status of having never dated since they last discussed it. 

“We could go to the opening as a date.” Matt muses.

“I guess.” Keith says again, automatically. Then, “Wait, what?”

“The movie opening,” Matt clarifies, ‘We could make it a date.”

This causes Keith to ponder, would he date Matt? Is this just a way to put a check mark beside a list item? Cause, that’s not really a thing for Keith.

But then he thinks about how he and Matt get along, with no drama. How easy it is to talk to Matt about stuff. And Buzz Lightyear pajamas aside, he is an attractive guy.  

Keith tries to imagine if he met Matt now, not almost a decade ago, not as his friend’s older brother. 

Yeah, he would be interested.

“Would it actually count as a date?” Keith asks finally. “It's kinda work.”

“We could make it count.” Matt says, it's both sleepy and it’s flirtatious. Keith can tell. It makes him think of Lance. No. If Keith is going on a date, he isn’t going to bring his unresolved feelings for another person into it. 

Keith thinks for a moment about how he feels about Matt flirting with him. He decides he likes it.

“Yeah.” Keith decides. “Let’s have a date at the opening.” 

‘Glad that’s settled.” Matt says. Like always, no drama. “‘Night.”

“Night.” Keith says back, a smile in his voice.

Chapter Text

“So I have a date tonight.” Keith unexpectedly shares with Dr. Redmond at the beginning of their next zoom session. He experiences a moment of satisfaction at the therapist’s response, a widening of her hazel eyes behind cat shaped glasses. He catches the slight change in expression even though she holds the rest of her face impassive. He rarely surprises the doctor and it feels like a victory, because it is one of Keith’s biggest pet peeves that professionals act like they know everything about him.

She clears her throat and pauses before she speaks, causing Keith to bristle, because a lifetime of experience has taught him that similar pauses are often followed by condescending observations.

“That sounds exciting. Who are you dating?” Dr. Redmond smiles, her teeth white and straight against soft brown lips. Keith notices the smile is genuine, her eyes crinkling at the corners. 

“We’re not dating. It’s just one date.” He corrects quickly. “It’s with Matt, he’s on the crew. I mean, he is the Production Manager for the tour.” 

“A first date?” Dr. Redmond offers. “With Pidge’s brother?” She clarifies, having built an understanding of the people in Keith’s day to day life over the past 9 months of working together. She was unerringly observant despite Keith’s long standing resistance to sharing details.

Keith shifts uncomfortably in his seat trying to figure out if there is an underlying meaning to the question.

“Yeah.” Keith says, shortly. It sounds defensive to his own ears, so he presses his lips together to avoid saying anything else.

“What are your plans?” She asks conversationally. Keith squints his eyes, not sure where this is leading. Therapists are always going somewhere with their questions, he’s been in therapy long enough to know that. 

“Uh, so there’s this movie opening, we’re uh, one of our songs is on the soundtrack and we… well, yeah, that’s the date.” Keith stops. 

Matt had assured him that it was a good date, even though it was a work related event. Matt has done some publicity stuff with Pidge and is known to their fans, it won’t be entirely weird for him to walk the red carpet with Keith, and they were figuring out what to do after that, more private and date-like.

“How are you feeling about that?” 

For Keith, this is the most painful part of therapy, when they rabbit chase around topics, on the surface they are talking about the date, but Keith suspects that he is being guided toward something hard and uncomfortable.

“I mean, I don’t love the media part, but the movie looks cool.” He says leaning against the chair and putting a hand to the back of his head.

“What about Matt? Are you looking forward to spending time with Matt?”

Keith surprises himself by feeling proud that he can answer honestly. In the past, when asked if he was looking forward to something he might blink blankly at the person asking. He had trained himself to quell his feelings of anticipation, he stopped planning on the future, because, along the way,  he learned that it was easier to just take each day as it came. 

“Yeah. We are going to get dinner and hang out.” Keith feels a vague warm feeling when he thinks about it.

Again, this is met with a genuine smile, and without thinking, Keith feels his lips quirk in response.

There is a pause, as Dr. Redmond waits to see if Keith has any other big revelations, but he has exhausted this topic and had specifically mentioned it to avoid all the other overwhelming happenings in his life. 

“So, you met your mother last week?” Dr. Redmond prompts.

Keith tries to suppress a flinch at the word mother, it seems so loud when anyone says it in relation to him. To his dismay, the therapist seems to note the response. 

“How was that?” she continues. 

Keith has the, now it is time to run , feeling, his eyes darting around the room automatically, both looking for threats and a way to escape. He takes a couple of breaths, trying to focus on the sound and sensation of air moving in and out of his body. He is frustrated at the closing of his throat and the blur in his eyes, which he blinks away madly. He’d already hashed this out yesterday, with Lance.

Start there.

“It was, okay, I think. I mean she seems grateful that I am open to hanging out?” Keith says, confusion and a question in his voice.

“That surprises you?” 

“A bit.” Keith chokes outs with a nod. 

“It would be understandable for you to not want to see her.” 

“Would it?” Disbelief colours Keith’s words, and tears are embarrassingly close. 

“Different people react differently to parents coming back into their lives after a long period of estrangement.”

“Is that why my friends and family are mad at her?” Keith tosses out the words, they almost sound like an accusation.

Dr. Redmond nods and Keith is irritated by the gesture, but she goes on to say. “How do you feel about them being angry?”

“Like I need to defend her. To stop them.” Keith is battling with his own emotions and wraps his arms around himself, the leather of the jacket he is wearing rubbing against itself.

“Why?” Dr. Redmond’s words are soft, in his ears, but he doesn’t see her on the screen in front of him, because his vision is blurred with emotion.

He doesn’t answer for a long time. 

“Because she might leave again.” His voice is small, especially in relation to the fear that explodes in his chest. This is one of the monsters in the closet that he has been trying to keep at bay, the one that silences his own questions of, “Where were you?” “Why did you leave?” “What did I do?”

“You are afraid she will leave again?” 

Keith nods, numbly, still not looking at the screen. 

"It makes sense to be afraid, if we have been left once before…” Keith scoffs at her choice of words, “of being left again.”

“Is it hard to connect with Kara, to be honest with her about how you feel, because you are afraid she will leave?” Keith finally meets the therapist's eyes through the screen.

“Yeah.” He nods with a sniff. “Yeah.”

“I don’t know a lot about Kara, but from what you have shared with me, she takes full responsibility for her choices. She explained that she left because she was not healthy in mind and body, and not up to the task of being a good parent. Is that true?”

Keith purses his lips, giving a barely perceptible nod.

“There are no guarantees, but if she backs up those words with actions, then maybe she is someone who can hear your true feelings.”

Keith tightens more in on himself.

“But we are getting ahead of ourselves a bit. This is all pretty new and it makes sense if there are a lot of conflicting feelings. Maybe we can sort through some of it together?” It is an invitation, a prompt, a door open that Keith can walk through or walk away from.

Keith closes his eyes for a moment, and remembers Lance’s shattered expression staring back at him, a mirror to Keith’s own untethered emotions when Kara contacted him. How that expression had created a space in Keith to feel the tremendous sense of loss that Kara’s return had unearthed. 

Everything thus far with Kara feels like writing on tissue paper, like it is fragile and can be destroyed by a strong wind or a drop of rain. Keith wants something more, something real, but he can’t build that relationship, not honestly, until he faces the feelings of having lost her in the first place. 

It's a journey Keith had never hoped or expected to take, and embarking on it will open doors he has firmly left closed. This isn’t going to be easy, in fact, parts of it are going to suck.

This feels exactly like a precipice, like every reckless decision he has ever made. Maybe it is for this reason that Keith feels his spirit rise. He has operated on the principles of do or die for so long, it feels natural to want to jump into the unknown. 

Only now, a voice, sounding very much like Shiro echoes, “Slow down. Make a plan. Get support. People care about you Keith. You don’t have to do this alone.”

He opens his eyes to meet the hazel eyes of his therapist, her beautifully manicured hands clasped together in front of her lips. He realizes that he trusts her and she’s offered help in navigating this. 

Keith takes the plunge. 

“Okay.” He says with quiet conviction.

---

Keith stares in the mirror at his hair, resisting the urge to touch it. It feels weird lifted the way it is. He squints at himself for a moment assessing the wire rimmed glasses he is wearing, tempted to toss them onto the night table, but also intrigued by the overall look.

Pidge had told Allura about the date, and much to Keith’s dismay Allura insisted Romelle help him get ready. He had already planned an outfit for the event with the style team, and wanted to just stick with that. Instead, he found himself overruled by a committee of three. Allura, Pidge and Romelle dug through the various garments in the wardrobe to pick out a new outfit. Actually Pidge came to have veto privileges and take photos, (probably to use for blackmail). Romelle insisted on styling Keith’s hair and doing his makeup.  

Keith doesn’t hate it, he’s just used to his usual style. 

“At least I know how to moisturize and don’t have unkempt 80s hair.” Lance had once shouted at him in one of their teenaged squabbles. Keith had looked up the word. Unkempt literally means “not combed.” Keith muses at the unbidden memory.

Contrary to Lance’s often loudly stated opinions, Keith did put effort into his appearance. As a teen, before having an option or budget for new clothes, he had built a style that could be maintained with second hand and thrifted items. Jeans he could re-dye black if they faded. Band shirts came after he found a Pink Floyd, Dark Side of the Moon  t-shirt in a bag of hand-me-downs at a group home he lived in shortly before being fostered by Shiro’s family. He remembered that his father loved that band. The shirt had been worn soft cotton, but coupled with the jeans, a pair of black army boots and a leather jacket too big for his 13 year old shoulders and arms he had found his style. 

He was already taller than his peers at that age, and his fashion choices ensured his classmates gave him a wide berth, which suited him just fine. Unfortunately, it also gave the impression he was looking for trouble and it wasn’t long before he noticed adults uniformly didn’t trust him. Older kids looking for a fight would seek him out. He found safe haven at a local record store and would go there when he skipped school or needed to get out of the group home for a few hours. The owner, Shonda, took pity on him and gave him odd jobs in exchange for his choice of records from the discount rack. Shonda also sold vintage rock-a-billy clothing, sometimes offering Keith cool items for his meager wardrobe. It was her daughter, Grace, that gave Keith his first layered haircut and pierced his ear when he asked. “The key to this haircut is volume.” Grace had said, purposefully mussing it as she blow dried it. 

Keith sighs at the memory thinking, “I guess it is “kempt” hair for tonight as his phone gave a buzz of notification. 

Matt

7:24PM

Hey, looks like I am on the team to move the equipment up to Reading Tonight.

Keith is surprised by his disappointment. But before he can type a text in response.

7:25PM

How do you feel about taking this date on the road?

After the movie we can pick up dinner at this place Hunk recommended.

I’ve got a playlist I wanted to share. I totally understand if you want to postpone,

but I hear you're all gussied up. (Wide, blinky eye emoji)

Keith’s face burns but he also laughs out loud at the message. He forces himself to take a moment before he answers. How does he feel about this? Will it be overwhelming? He realizes he is okay with this plan. In fact, being in a vehicle leaving London means no more surprise meddling from well-meaning friends and bandmates. 

7:26PM

I’m In. 

7:26PM

Sweet, see you in 5.

---

It takes effort for Keith to get himself out the door. He absolutely hates the publicity portion of these events, but Matt has promised to get him through the Red Carpet as he has done for Pidge in the past.

Keith always needs a handler on the Red Carpet, otherwise, he is sure he would just speed walk to the doors of any venue. Lately it has been Lance, which hasn’t been too bad. Lance loves the limelight, and draws it to himself with fast moving quips and one liners. A wink here, a quick grin and flirtatious joke there. It takes the heat off enough that Keith can saunter along behind him, without having to come up with clever answers to stupid questions. There are invariably stupid, inane, insipid, questions. Pidge and Allura get the worst ones. But the rest get their fair share.  Lance will catch his eye sometimes, when they silently laugh about the ridiculousness of it all, even though he, as opposed to Keith, is eating it up. 

Keith forces himself out the door to find Lance in the hallway adjusting things in his pockets. 

Shit. 

Lance looks amazing. 

His suit is, well, it just hangs all the right ways, and brings out his warm colouring beautifully. Lance’s eyes look electric and his hair is perfect. The word “kempt” comes to mind. Lance is glowing, in part because he is in his element. It’s nights like this that Lance lives for and it shows. His excitement is palpable and he must be warming up to charm every single person attending this event, because he grins and says, “Hey.” in a tone that is the perfect mix of light teasing and husky flirt.

Keith wants to go back to his room and hide.

Luckily Lance misinterprets Keith’s meltdown for pre-event anxiety. 

"Tell me you aren't excited to be some of the first people to see this sequel." Lance reaches past him to press the button for the elevator. Fuck, he even smells amazing. Keith watches him half dreading, half hoping they will be alone when it comes, his brain buzzing with memories of the night of the kiss. He sighs, reminding himself that he is going on a date with another person tonight. When Lance turns to him with a bright smile that shuts down brain function. 

Lance has started talking again and Keith is trying to focus on the words to no avail. It’s too late, now Lance is waiting for some kind of response and all Keith can think to say is either, “Please stop smiling at me.” Or “I need you to stop talking.” He suspects neither will be well received. 

He takes a breath to speak anyway, to be interrupted by the elevator doors sliding open to Matt lounging inside. 

Keith eyes zero in on Matt, and even though he doesn't cause Keith’s brain to melt, Keith appreciates the view. There is a boyish glint reflecting through his glasses and his smile holds a genuine warmth. Matt is wearing a silver grey suit. His hair is also styled back and his eyes are sparkling behind his glasses.  His smile brightens upon seeing them.

"OMG - Keith, you look awesome!"

As of this moment, you are on a date with Matt. Keith reminds himself. He grapples a moment for something to say, belatedly realizing that Matt had just paid him a compliment. 

Shit, he’d practiced for this. 

"Thank you, Matt. You look good as well."

Outside of his view, Lance makes a weird sound with his throat, but Keith cannot look his way right now. He is on a date with Matt, and all of this would be much easier if Lance wasn’t along for the ride. 

—

Keith is amazed that he and Matt make it through the Red Carpet smoothly. 

Matt isn’t a celebrity, so most reporters pose their questions directly to Keith, and that feels terrifying. Even still, Matt uses some kind of prowess to draw in other celebrities by introducing a competitive interaction. His favourite distraction is to ask reporters which person is wearing the coolest glasses, always grabbing a particularly flamboyant person to compare to him and Keith. He manages to press his case, even when the other person is clearly the winner, saying things like, “You win for colour, but you cannot beat Keith’s simplicity.” Or “I think I take this one, because I'm fairly certain neither of you actually need glasses.”

This strategy only goes so far, and at one point a reporter stumps Keith with a question about rumours of leaked film footage. Keith awkwardly explains he didn’t hear that because he doesn’t follow movie media. As soon as he says this, he knows he has committed a faux pas. Someone promoting a film, who has written the theme song, probably shouldn’t say they haven’t been paying attention to news about the project. 

There is a moment of awkward silence while Keith falls into panic mode. Matt nonchalantly shares that he has a high-stakes bet with his sister on which of the lead actors would drop a huge spoiler tonight at the opening. Keith forgets himself enough to laugh out loud at the reporter's shocked snort. 

“Who’s your money on?” She asks, once she recovers herself and her own laughter subsides. 

“I can’t tell you, it will mess with the odds.” Matt says conspiratorially. 

“What do you think Keith, who here is most likely to give away some detail vital to the plot?” 

Keith answers honestly, his face pulling wryly, though a smile tightens his cheeks. “Probably me, which is why they keep me in the dark about everything.”  He says this glancing to the side at Matt, and the three of them chuckle good humouredly. “They purposefully only gave us a broad overview of the storyline.” He goes on to say,  “Even when we were composing the song.” 

Keith can tell the reporter loves his answer, and he knows she could run a whole segment, just using that soundbite.

All said and done, he still hates Red Carpets, but at least no lasting damage was done. He is surprised how, even in the stress of it all, it was fun because Matt had turned it into a game.

---

As they settle into their seats, Matt whispers, “Make sure your ringer is off. I am so paranoid of somehow leaking something I turned on airplane mode.” Keith smiles and turns off his phone.

“Thank you.” Keith says, his voice infused with gratitude. “As far as Red Carpets go, that sucked the least.”

“High praise indeed.” Matt smiles, with a raised eyebrow as he offers Keith popcorn. Keith takes a few kernels, even though he hates how it will get stuck in his teeth. 

“Lance seemed a bit off, did he know you weren’t doing the carpet together tonight?”

Keith’s brain stutters to a halt at the mention of the other man. When it re-engages he wonders why would Lance care if Keith traversed the entrance with another person? It hadn’t occurred to Keith to tell Lance he wouldn’t be on babysitting duty tonight. He almost turns to look over at the other man, to see if he is actually upset. Then he stops himself.

Tonight I am on a date with Matt.

“You know, it’d be great if we didn’t talk about Lance tonight.” Keith says plainly.

He registers Matt’s raised eyebrows, but his face relaxes quickly. “Of course.” He gives a slight shrug. “Whatever works best for you.”

“That.” Keith says, nudging Matt’s shoulder with his own. “That’s what works for me.”

---

They decide to eat their pizza at the hotel, before heading out. They’d come back to get changed out of their formal wear. Matt had set up the table in his and Pidge’s room to have a tablecloth and some candles, and Keith appreciated the effort, even though they were eating on paper plates.

“Omgodd.” Matt said, savouring a bite of the delicious Neapolitan style pizza, sauce dripping inelegantly down his chin.

“I know, right.” Keith said around a mouthful of cheese and San Marzano tomatoes and a perfect blend of spices. 

“Hunk’s the best.” Matt says, both men lounging, drowsily full of good food, not wanting to rush out the door. 

“Yeah.” Keith says lazily, feeling satisfied at how the night has gone so far.

“You know, we can call it a night.” Matt offers kindly. “You don’t have to drive out to Reading with me. This counts as a date. I had just planned other stuff, but we could do it another time.”

Keith looks at the other man, and sees he is in earnest. His open, uncomplicated honesty is what makes Keith say, “Are you kidding? I am looking forward to this.” He’s telling the truth. He likes spending time with Matt.

Since they are heading to the Reading Festival, Matt has compiled some folk tunes for Keith to listen to. Keith in turn, inspired by his memories of hanging around the record shop, plays some Rock-a-Billy for Matt.

They have an extended conversation about the pros and cons of electric vs acoustic bases. They talk about drumming patterns and techniques, which leads to conversations about Shiro playing with the prosthetic and leads to them searching for songs he might want to play.

Once they have the truck parked, a member of the festival staff drives Keith and Matt in a golf cart to the site where the bus is parked. There are a small number of artists already there, and there is a campfire going at a nearby fire pit. A friendly bearded man, who has a face and accent that Keith recognizes, invites them to join the circle, offering cold beer. But Keith feels his day catching up with him and tells Matt as much. 

“I’ll walk you to your door then.” Matt says with a smile. 

Keith squints at him. “We are staying in the same bus.” But then remembers, they are still on a date.

Keith opens the door with a whoosh and reaches around for the light. Climbing up the stairs he offers, “You can always go back and hang out with those guys.”

“I got an early morning.” Matt defers.

Keith sits, partially because he is tired, and partially because he feels awkward standing. Matt falls into a seat across from him. The revelry from the campfire echoes outside, but inside the bus feels quiet, still.

“So, no spark huh?” Matt finally says into the silence.

Keith obfuscates, “You look damn good in a suit.” 

Matt smiles, but Keith notices he doesn’t blush and feels easier.

“You neither huh?” Keith asks, just to be sure.

“I mean, you also clean up very well.” Matt teases, and it warms Keith, but it isn’t that fiery attraction he feels for Lance. “But no. Sorry.”

Keith sighs deeply.

“Disappointed?” Matt asks.

“It’d just be so much easier with you.” Keith says without thinking.

“Yeah, for future reference, that’s a terrible pick up line.” Keith immediately feels bad, but then sees the humour in Matt’s face.

“Technically you're now my ex, so I shouldn’t be using my good ones on you anyway.” Keith teases back.

“Thank you for giving it a shot though.” Matt says. “I needed this.”

“I think I did too.” Keith says thoughtfully, gratitude welling up from deep inside him. “Matt, I am glad we’re friends.” And immediately blushes and feels awkward at the admission. 

“Me too.” Matt answers easily. “Now go to bed. So I can pretend I tried to sleep before I go and join that star studded song circle. 

He doesn’t need to be told twice, exhaustion is pulling at Keith’s bones and he climbs out of the chair to make his way to his bunk, “‘Night.” He calls back.

“Good Night.” Matt responds, and the smile in his voice is evident.

---

The heavy exhaustion coupled with the inability to sleep isn’t new. 

Keith has to battle with his temper, anger at insomnia will push slumber even further away. He tries different breathing techniques, but his brain just won’t stop.

He’d heard the music outside wrap up, deep timbered voices and a tinkling of feminine laughter slowly dying down as people head to bed. He’d heard Matt’s quiet re-entry and him bunking down in the room adjacent to Keith’s. Now his only companions were the late summer crickets and the odd sound of night creatures, making him nostalgic for summer camping trips with his father. He closes his eyes and tries to take himself back to a tent under a sky full of stars with a crackling fire and the gentle lapping of water along a river.

He gives up, grabbing his phone. He realizes too late that his ear buds are still in the pocket of his jacket in the main part of the bus. He doesn’t want to get up, nor does he want to wake Matt with his scuffling around in the middle of the night. 

He opens the text conversation between him and his mother to look at the picture she had sent him. He is a wrinkly pink bundle with a shock of black hair. Unkept.  His Dad’s broad shoulders make Keith look impossibly small by comparison, his bundled form held confidently by strong hands. He stares down at Keith with a bemused smile, as though he is equally confounded by his smallness.  

Kara is sitting on a hospital bed watching them both. She looks fragile compared to the force of nature that she is known to be in the music industry. She looks tired, exhausted, but there is a softness to her, in her eyes, as she looks at them. 

Keith sends the text almost in a trance, knowing it is unlikely she will answer at this late hour. 

2:43AM

Did you love my father?

Keith is surprised to see dots form, it seems he is not the only one who can’t sleep.

2:44AM

Yes, very much.

I never stopped feeling it.

Sometimes I still miss him, especially now..

Keith stares at the phone for a long time, not sure exactly how to ask the next question.

2:47AM

Did he love you back?

2:53AM

Yes. He did. 

3:01AM

Why him? I mean with so many other people around?

Why not someone who fit better into your life? someone easier?

Keith doesn’t even know if the question makes sense. Kara doesn’t answer for a really long time and Keith is in an insolent enough mood, he isn’t even worried if he’s hurt her. If she can’t handle a few tough questions then maybe this whole thing is a mistake.

Her answers come in staccato, one after another. He has to turn off his notifications out of fear of waking Matt.

3:14

I felt seen when I was with him.

Not as a persona, not as a rock star, not as a belligerent punk. 

I mean, as all of those things, and more.

Sometimes it felt like too much, to be seen so clearly.

It was almost painful to be seen and accepted.

But then her answers start to come in long paragraphs and Keith lowers himself back against his pillow to read them.

The first night I met him, he made me laugh. His jokes kind of snuck up on you. 

He was very observant, and could do little impressions of people in the band. 

He was good at catching their idiosyncrasies. 

He could make an instant connection with someone in this easy way 

that seemed alien to me. It didn’t matter where we were, 

he could smile and start a conversation, just like that.

He was steady, in all the ways and places I was not.

And (probably TMI here) there was a spark. 

Even when we argued, it was electric.

3:22 AM

Ewww. yes TMI 

jk

3:23AM

What brought this on?

3:24AM

There’s this guy and for the longest time it’s just been him

Tonight I went on a date (not with him) and realized it would 

be so much easier if I could just feel this way for someone else

Oh. I guess I should tell you I’m fay

*gay

3:25AM 

Yes, I knew that.

The gay thing.

You know, the publicity and stuff.

And, not that you need my acceptance, but you have it.

3:27AM

Thanks ig

So, you’re in love with this guy?

3:28AM

Pretty much

3:29AM

Does he know?

3:30AM

I doubt it

3:31AM

Have you thought about telling him?

3:32AM

not really an option

3:32AM

Can you take some space? Sometimes that helps.

3:33AM

That’s kinda hard 

We work together

3:33AM

Oof. That is hard :/

3:34AM

My friend Matt (who I went on the date with) was in the same boat a while back

He suggested I use different music to .. figure out my feelings .. I guess?

3:35AM

You’re writing music about it?

3:36PM

No I mean yes, but this is separate from that

I pick songs or he suggests songs that can help sort out how

I am feeling (he calls it the Diva project) 

I think it’s helping a bit

3:37AM

Do you have a song for how you are feeling now?

3:37 AM

Fool That I Am, Etta James

3:40AM

Great song.

You said he doesn’t know about your feelings?

3:41AM

We had this moment, a while back

It wasn’t real

3:41AM

I am sorry Keith.

3:42AM

Thanks.

So, you just kept loving my Dad? 

Even now?

3:43AM

Can you imagine stopping loving the people closest to you?

3:43AM

Not really

3:45AM

It doesn’t have to be a bad thing. 

My love for your dad changed. 

It didn’t stop me from loving other people.

That provides Keith the small hope that he’d been looking for. Even if loving Lance is a forever thing, it doesn’t have to be the only thing. It can grow and change. He can grow and change.

He and Kara chat a bit more, but it isn’t long before they say goodnight.

He falls asleep to the sound of morning birds and a lightening sky.