Work Text:
The first winter after Shiro officially signed the papers, he buys Keith a new coat.
Keith didn’t have many belongings to bring with him from the start. A lot of his clothes were either too big or too small, either worn out T-shirts he’s grown out of or oversized hand-me-downs from the previous families he lived with. His sneakers were practically falling apart, and he had more socks with holes than without. Either no one had ever paid enough attention to notice he needed new clothing, or they simply didn’t care. Both possibilities make Shiro equally as angry.
Originally he’d planned to take Keith on a small shopping spree of sorts, just to get him some much-needed wardrobe upgrades. Adam quickly changed his mind though, worrying that it might be an overwhelming experience for Keith when basic kindness still seems to be such a foreign concept to him. It hurt Shiro to admit, but he had a point. So he opted to make it a gradual process instead, but even then it required some tact.
Keith doesn’t ask for much—in fact, he hardly asks for anything at all. It didn’t take long for Shiro to realize that Keith often just says what he thinks Shiro wants to hear, which makes it difficult to discern what he really does and doesn’t want. It’s as if he thinks he might be punished for something as simple as needing a new pack of pencils, so he keeps his head down and makes do with what he has, like he’s trying to take up as little space as possible.
So Shiro developed a strategy: every once in a while he would bring home a new shirt or a pair of shorts, maybe even some pajamas. He would ask Keith to try them on, and Keith would quietly agree, albeit confusedly. And once Shiro made sure they fit properly, instead of asking, “Do you want it?” he would say, “You can keep it.” It seemed to give Keith the courage to accept what was being given to him without feeling like a burden.
Autumn came, and with it came falling leaves and dropping temperatures. As far as Shiro could tell, all Keith had to keep him warm was a flimsy old jacket with a hole in one sleeve and a broken zipper. No way would it be enough to get him through the winter, so Shiro made it his top priority to find a suitable replacement before it got too cold.
Adam suggested he look for one at a thrift store, even texted him a few pictures of some Keith-sized coats he found on his own. They were more than decent (Adam always has a way of finding the diamonds in the rough), and while Shiro appreciated the help, right now he wanted Keith to feel like he had things that were truly his own. He’s already spent years surviving on other kids’ leftovers. He deserves something brand new, picked out just for him.
Shiro knew Keith wouldn’t be picky, so he decided to be picky for him. It wouldn’t be enough just to find a nice coat—it needed to be a coat that Keith would actually like wearing. He doesn’t want Keith to keep settling for whatever he can get. So it takes him several days of searching and several trips to several stores, but he finally finds it—the perfect coat. He spotted it from halfway across the store and practically ran over to look at it properly, and ten minutes later he was walking out with a single shopping bag in his hand.
All he had to do now was find the right time to give Keith his new coat. But this time, he wanted to do it a little differently.
The perfect opportunity quickly presents itself. Keith hurries out of school one day with his jacket wrapped tightly around him, sleeves pulled over his hands and hood flipped over his head. He’s shivering slightly when he gets into the car, curling into himself as much as his seatbelt will allow. Shiro immediately cranks up the heat despite his own hands being clammy from sitting in a warm car for too long and leaves it there for the whole trip home.
Even after they’ve made it into the sheltered warmth of Shiro’s apartment, Keith doesn’t seem very keen on taking off his jacket. He sits himself at the dining table to do his homework just like he always does, hood still pulled over his head and fingers poking out from under the worn, tattered edges of his sleeves.
Shiro drops his things onto the counter, watching him. “Are you still cold?”
Keith just shrugs, but the perpetual hunch of his shoulders gives him away. Maybe it should be a hot chocolate kind of day. Shiro makes a mental note to ask Keith if he wants some after dinner.
“Do you want a blanket?” Keith shrugs again, so Shiro gets one anyway. He lays it around Keith’s shoulders and clears his throat, feeling strangely giddy and terribly nervous all at once. “Stay right there, okay? I want to show you something.”
“Okay,” Keith answers distractedly, already scribbling away on one of his worksheets.
Shiro hurries into his room for the coat that’s been tucked safely away in his closet for almost a week. He grips the fabric in his hands and takes a deep breath to steady himself. This shouldn’t feel as monumental as it is, but he wants it to go well. He hopes Keith likes red.
When he comes back out, Keith is pondering over his English homework. Shiro stands a few feet away from the table and clears his throat again, carefully holding the coat in front of him. “Hey, kiddo. I got you something.”
Keith’s head immediately snaps up, eyes flashing with curiosity. And yet, there’s still something so guarded about the look on his face, as if he suspects this might be some sort of prank. Shiro can see it, in the ever-so-slight pinch of his brow and carefully neutral expression. It’s exactly the reaction that Shiro aims to get rid of.
He holds the coat a little higher, and Keith’s gaze zeroes in on it like a hawk on its prey. “I’m sure you’ve noticed how cold it’s getting. I thought your jacket could use a little upgrade.”
Keith stares. As much as it pains him to think about, Shiro had kind of been expecting that.
“You don’t have to try it on right this minute,” Shiro adds with a smile, hoping it’s enough to put Keith at ease. “I just wanted to show you. Do you like red?”
Keith is slow to respond, like his brain is still working to process a new load of information. “Red is my favorite color.”
Shiro lights up. “Really?”
“But…” Keith grips the edge of his chair, looking confused. “What’s it for?”
“What do you mean? It’s for you, buddy.”
“But it’s not my birthday.”
“So?” Shiro asks, not unkindly.
Keith’s confusion only seems to grow, expression bordering on helpless. Shiro was prepared for the interaction to go a lot like this, but that doesn’t mean he wanted it to. Keith can’t seem to wrap his head around the fact that Shiro might buy something new for him just because, completely unprompted. He hopes this is a good first step toward fixing that.
“It doesn’t have to be a special occasion for me to get you something,” he says softly. “I noticed your jacket isn’t keeping you warm, so I got you a new one. That’s all.”
It takes a moment, but when Keith finally meets his gaze for the first time all afternoon, the look on his face has changed. The tiny crease in his forehead has disappeared, replaced with a quiet sort of realization. He doesn’t have to speak for Shiro to know what he might be trying to say. He can see it, the wordless gratitude in his eyes that he doesn’t know how to voice yet, and that’s more than enough.
｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
The first snow of the season falls just two weeks later.
It’s usually Shiro’s favorite part of winter, watching the world gradually disappear underneath a blanket of white. That’s the one thing all his favorite Hallmark movies get right, no matter how cheesy Adam claims they are. There’s just something so magical about the way the snow drifts through the air, kissing everything in its path and leaving the sky feeling brighter.
This year, on the other hand, he has no choice but to bump the first snow down to number two on his list of favorite winter things. Nothing will beat the moment he sees Keith come out of his room that day wearing his brand new coat, looking warm and cozy and maybe even a little excited, in the kind of way that only wearing something new can bring. They make snow angels on the sidewalk before they leave for school, and the smile on Keith’s face the entire way there makes Shiro feel more accomplished than he ever has in his whole life.
Connecting with Keith hasn’t been particularly easy, but he thinks he’s finally starting to get the hang of it. In the beginning it was his greatest obstacle, struggling with the feeling that he was never doing enough or doing too much and either way, always doing it all wrong. All he really wanted was to give Keith a better life, and for a while he worried that he had put a little too much trust in himself when he signed the papers and brought him home.
Watching Keith wave goodbye and hurry off into school with just the slightest skip in his step is the kind of confidence boost Shiro never knew he needed. Maybe he’s making a difference after all.
Then comes the day that Keith comes home from school with a black eye, and all the progress Shiro thought he made is immediately put back into perspective.
He feels stupid for not noticing it sooner. But it was freezing cold and snowing outside, so it would’ve been weirder if Keith didn’t have his hood pulled tightly over his head when he climbed into the car. And sure, maybe he seemed quieter than usual, but that’s not exactly out of character for him, and either way Shiro knows by now a quiet Keith doesn’t necessarily equal an upset Keith. He seemed perfectly fine. As far as Shiro could tell, nothing about the drive home seemed particularly unusual.
Keith doesn’t immediately take his coat off when they make it into the apartment, and Shiro doesn’t blame him. He simply chalks it up to the cold and heads off to do a few chores, trusting Keith to make himself comfortable at the dining table and start on his homework like usual. In years past, Shiro usually didn’t mind walking around the apartment all winter buried under layers of thick sweaters and blankets if it meant saving a few bucks on his power bill. Today he decides to crank the heat up a couple degrees, if only for Keith’s sake.
But when he comes back out about twenty minutes later to check on him, Keith is still wearing his coat, hood tucked securely over his head. Naturally, he immediately starts to worry.
Shiro steps into the dining area, where Keith appears to be scribbling across his latest math worksheet. “Are you still cold?”
Keith jumps slightly, as if he hadn’t even noticed Shiro was there. He starts to look up but then looks down just as quickly, shrugging. “I dunno. A little.”
Maybe it has to do with the housework, but Shiro is practically on the edge of breaking a sweat thanks to his own decision to bump up the thermostat. How is Keith not burning up in that thing? “Really? Are you feeling alright?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you sure? It’s really warm in here to me.”
Keith just shrugs again, head bowed and eyes glued to his worksheet, though his pencil has stopped moving. It’s not until he hunches over when Shiro leans down to try to look at him properly that he realizes something might be wrong. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think that Keith is hiding something.
Shiro feels his pulse jump nervously. There’s something that Keith’s not telling him, and he’s not sure how to find out what it is without upsetting him. If there’s one thing he knows, it’s that Keith doesn’t like to be pressed.
“Keith?” he starts slowly, shifting to stand in front of him. “Can you take your hood off at least?”
Keith immediately drops his pencil and grips the hood on both sides, pulling it tighter. “I don’t want to.”
“Why not?” Keith pulls his feet onto the chair to make himself as small as possible and Shiro frowns, now fully concerned. He kneels down beside Keith’s chair and hesitates, keeping his distance. “Is there a reason you won’t look at me?” he asks softly.
“No,” Keith mumbles, but his voice wobbles and that’s when Shiro knows that something’s really wrong.
“I’m not going to make you,” he says gently, choosing each of his words carefully. “But I’m going to ask. Will you look at me for just a second? Please?”
Keith doesn’t move immediately, but then again Shiro didn’t expect him to. He waits patiently for Keith to collect himself, knowing he’ll do what Shiro’s asking of him once he’s ready. It takes a long, quiet moment, but eventually Keith gives in and reluctantly loosens his grip on his hood. He curls his hands in his lap, and this time when Shiro shifts to look at him properly he doesn’t shy away.
Shiro audibly gasps the moment he sees his face. Keith still won’t meet his gaze, and he has a feeling it might have to do with the big, angry bruise that’s formed just underneath his left eye.
“Keith,” he breathes, shocked and a little panicked, unsure whether he should reach out or sit still or maybe sprint into the kitchen for the first-aid kit. “What—”
“It wasn’t my fault!” Keith bursts, tears filling his eyes in a single instant.
“But—are you okay?” Shiro touches his knee, reaching toward his face but thinking better of it when Keith flinches away. “What happened?”
“I-I didn’t do anything,” Keith insists, his breaths coming fast and quick as he starts to cry.
“I didn’t say you did,” Shiro answers, as gently as he can despite the rising alarm he’s starting to feel from Keith’s reaction. “I just need to know what happened.” He sits back on his feet in surprise when Keith abruptly slides out of his chair, once again pulling tightly at the hood over his head. “What are you—wait! Keith—”
It’s too late. Keith runs off down the hall to his room before he can say another word, and Shiro can do nothing but watch.
His first thought is that maybe he should call the school. Something must have happened today that he clearly needs to be made aware of. But if that were the case, surely they would have called him first, right? If not the school, then certainly Mrs. Holt—she never lets any sort of communication fall through the cracks. Unless Keith somehow managed to hide his face from her, too?
Lately he’s been trying really hard to leave Adam out of his parenting troubles, but his anxiety gets the best of him this time. He needs someone with a level head right now.
“Hey, ‘Kashi.”
“Hey.” Shiro clutches his phone to his ear and steps into the tiny entry hall of the apartment, hoping it’s far enough from Keith’s room to keep him from overhearing. “Are you busy?”
“Nah, I just got out of a meeting. Why, what’s up?”
Shiro has to take a deep breath, pressing his back against the front door. “Well, that’s the thing. I don’t really know. Maybe nothing?”
There’s a beat of silence, then he hears Adam shifting around on the other end. His voice is much clearer when he speaks again, which Shiro suspects means he was on speakerphone before. Adam is busy, the liar. “Is everything alright?”
“I-I don’t know,” Shiro admits, running his fingers through his hair. “I’m kind of freaking out. Keith came home with a black eye today.”
Adam’s gasp comes through a little muffled. “What? Is he okay?”
“He’s…” Shiro trails off, unsure what to say. “He’s in his room right now, because—well, I guess I started asking too many questions? He got really upset when I tried to ask him what happened.”
“And no one called you? The school, the teacher, anyone?”
“No one,” Shiro sighs. “Keith had his hood on when I picked him up, I—I didn’t even realize until we got home. He must have managed to hide it from everyone.”
Adam lets out a soft breath. Shiro can practically hear him frowning. “Do you think…” He hesitates, and Shiro’s stomach churns because he knows what Adam is about to say and as much as he hates to admit it, he understands why. “...Could he have gotten into a fight?”
Shiro bites his lip, tugging restlessly at the collar of his shirt. He knows they’re both thinking about the same thing. The social workers had warned him constantly about Keith’s supposed history of acting out, from day one all the way until the day he signed the papers. His case manager always referred to him as a problem child, one of those kids who just wouldn’t behave no matter what anyone tried. He remembers dismissing all of their concerns at the time, but what if they were right to warn him after all?
“Maybe,” he says finally. “He kept saying that it wasn’t his fault and that he didn’t do anything.”
Adam hums quietly. “Do you think he’s telling the truth?”
Shiro knows Adam well enough to know that he’s not implying otherwise, but asking genuinely. At first he doesn’t quite know what to say, but the more that he thinks about it, the more his initial panic actually starts to subside.
He spent a lot of time getting to know Keith before making the decision to bring him home. In all those months, not once did he ever give Shiro any reason to believe what all the social workers seemed to say about him— still not even once in all these months since taking him in. Anyone who put in more than minimal effort to understand him would realize that Keith’s “acting out” almost always meant he just needed a little help.
When he takes a deep breath and puts everything else aside—when he thinks about the Keith that he knows, rather than the Keith that everyone else has told him about—the answer is easy.
“Yeah,” he says firmly. “I do.”
“Make sure he knows that,” Adam suggests softly. “It would probably mean a lot to him.”
Shiro suppresses another sigh, rubbing his temple. “Okay. I’m just going to give him a little longer to calm down before I try talking to him again.”
“Sounds like a plan. Keep me in the loop?”
“I will. Sorry for bothering you. I know you’re busy.”
“Never too busy for you, though.”
“Sap,” Shiro huffs, and despite everything ends the call with a smile on his face.
Another ten minutes or so go by and he decides it’s been long enough for both Keith and himself to compose themselves. He pads down the hall to Keith’s room and knocks gently, slowly pushing the door open when he doesn’t hear a response. The bed is empty where Shiro had expected to see him, so he steps inside and looks around in confusion. “Keith?”
A quiet sniffle alerts Shiro to his presence somewhere in the room. When he walks closer, he finds Keith tucked against the wall, hidden in the space between his dresser and the end of his bed. Shiro feels a pang of sympathy as he sniffs again, scrubbing at his face underneath his hood. He knew Keith was upset, but it’s still hard to see him like this when he usually seems so unbothered.
He sits down against the dresser and props his elbows on his knees, leaving plenty of room between them. Keith doesn’t say anything, but at least he doesn’t jump up and run off again. Shiro hopes that means he’s ready to talk about whatever’s going on.
After a long moment, he holds out the ice pack he found buried in the back of the freezer, wrapped up in an old kitchen towel. “Here. This will make it feel better.”
Keith hesitates, but eventually he silently reaches out and takes it. His shoulders sag as he gingerly presses it underneath his eye, but his face is still twisted into a slight grimace. Shiro wonders just how long he’s been putting up with the pain because he was too afraid to tell anyone about it.
“You okay?” he asks. Keith doesn’t answer immediately, sniffing again and wiping his face with the back of his hand. Shiro waits for another moment, then takes a deep breath and shifts around to face him, speaking quietly. “Are you ready to tell me what happened?”
Keith bites his lip like he’s holding back more tears. “It wasn’t my fault,” he mumbles.
“I know,” Shiro agrees. “Why don’t you just start from the beginning?”
When he doesn’t do so immediately, Shiro sits back and waits patiently. If there’s one thing he’s learned, it’s that Keith’s silence doesn’t automatically indicate a refusal. He just needs a little extra time, and they’ve got plenty of it.
“Well…” Keith starts finally, and Shiro leans forward to show that he’s listening. “Me and Lance were coloring on the sidewalk during recess.”
Shiro blinks. “Coloring?”
“Yeah, with chalk.”
“Oh, right. Go on.”
“And then this other kid came over and started walking all over my drawings.”
“On purpose?” Shiro resists the urge to sigh when Keith nods. How some kids manage to turn into bullies by the age of ten is beyond him. “Why would he do that?”
“I dunno.” Keith pouts. “He doesn’t like me.”
“Have you had issues with him before?”
“Kinda.”
Shiro makes a mental note to follow up on that later. “So then what happened?”
“Well—“ Keith purses his lips. “Lance tried to tell him to stop because it wasn’t nice, but then the other kid pushed him.”
Shiro’s eyebrows shoot up. “Now, that’s not very nice.”
Keith’s gaze flicks toward him then away, his fingers pulling at the fabric of his jeans. “But it made me upset so I—” He pauses, his voice growing small. “I pushed him back.”
“Ah,” Shiro says softly. Suddenly everything is starting to make sense. “I see.”
“But then he hit me,” Keith continues quickly, his bottom lip quivering. “And Lance yelled at him to leave so he did, but it really hurt.”
“Wasn’t Mrs. Holt there? Why didn’t she do anything?”
Keith sniffs. “We were on the other side of the playground. She was talking to another teacher.”
That makes sense too. From what Shiro knows about Mrs. Holt, she would never let a student hit another and get away with it.
“Why didn’t you tell her what happened?”
Keith’s voice starts to wobble. “I didn’t want to get in trouble.”
“But why would you get in trouble?” Shiro asks softly.
“‘Cuz no one ever believes me.”
Shiro is quiet for a moment. He shifts around so that he’s directly facing Keith and reaches out to put a hand on his knee, making sure he has his full attention when he says: “ I believe you.”
That’s when Keith finally looks up at Shiro, for the first time since this morning. The second that their eyes meet, Keith’s start to fill with tears. Shiro smiles sadly and holds his arms out. “C’mere.”
He keeps them open as Keith drops the ice pack and climbs out of his hiding spot, only to slump into Shiro’s waiting arms. His shoulders tremble slightly and he clutches at Shiro’s shirt, sniffing. “I didn’t want you to be mad at me,” he croaks.
Shiro shakes his head even though Keith can’t really see him. “I’m not mad at you.”
“But I messed up again.”
“Why, because you pushed someone?” Shiro squeezes his shoulder. “Yeah, you probably shouldn’t have done that. But you were just standing up for your friend. That’s a good thing.”
Keith wipes under his good eye with the back of his hand. “I just didn’t know what to do.”
“I know. Next time something like that happens, try not to react to him, okay?” Keith tilts his head back to look up at Shiro, and he takes the opportunity to finally pull his hood off so he can see his face properly. “If you don’t do anything back to make him mad, he can’t try to use it as an excuse to get you in trouble, too. Do you get what I mean?”
Keith looks away, his lip still trembling slightly. “It’s not fair.”
“I know,” Shiro agrees. “It’s not fair at all. But sometimes it’s the right thing to do to protect yourself. Next time, go straight to Mrs. Holt and let her know what happened so she can handle it. Can you do that for me?”
He doesn’t seem to be fully convinced just yet, but Keith eventually nods. “Okay.”
“Okay.” Shiro smiles again, squeezing him against his side. “How’s your eye?”
“It really hurts,” Keith mumbles.
“I thought so. C’mon.” Shiro moves to stand and hoists Keith into his arms at the same time, smoothing the hair out of his face with a smile. “Let’s get you fixed up.”
。·:*:·★。·:*:·☆
Days pass, the bruise on Keith’s cheek starts to fade, and everything returns to normal. That’s what it seemed like, anyway. As far as Shiro knew, the issue seemed to have resolved itself.
Except now that he thinks about it, there was the night that he went to pack Keith’s lunch for the next day and found that the last was practically untouched. When he asked Keith about it he said he just hadn’t been hungry. Shiro assumed it was a one-time thing and didn’t think too much about it.
But then it happened again. And again. Until it was starting to look like a pattern rather than a coincidence. Until he gets a call from Mrs. Holt at 3:52pm on a Friday afternoon, just a few minutes after he brought him home for the day.
He’s in the kitchen making a grocery list when his phone rings. By now he has Mrs. Holt’s number saved in his phone, and his eyebrows shoot up when he sees the caller ID. He glances over at where Keith sits at the dining room table before answering.
“This is Shiro.”
“Hello, Mr. Shirogane. This is Mrs. Holt. Sorry to bother you on the weekend.”
“Not a bother at all,” he assures her, turning around to lean back against the counter. “And please, call me Shiro.”
She chuckles good-naturedly. “Well, Shiro, I won’t belabor the point. I’m calling to speak to you about Keith.”
Shiro’s gaze flicks toward Keith again. He’s still at the table hunched over his sketchbook, completely oblivious to the fact that Shiro is currently on the phone with his teacher. “Is everything alright?”
“For the most part. I did just want to let you know that I sent him home with a bit of make-up work today.”
Shiro is quiet for a second, processing. “Make-up work? But he hasn’t missed any school.” That gets Keith’s attention. He freezes, his gaze flicking toward the kitchen as Shiro frowns in confusion.
He doesn’t mean for it to sound accusatory, and luckily Mrs. Holt doesn’t seem to interpret it as such. “Well, that’s why I’m calling. He’s seemed a bit… distracted, lately.” Her voice is kind, like she knows what she’s about to say might trouble him and is trying to soften the blow a little. “He’s been falling behind on his in-class work, and he hasn’t turned in any take-home work since Wednesday.”
Keith hasn’t turned in any homework since Wednesday? That can’t be right. Shiro asks him every day when he gets out his sketchbook if he’s finished his homework first, and every time Keith says yes, and that’s the end of that unless… unless he’s been lying? Their eyes meet and Keith quickly looks away, busying himself by organizing his colored pencils.
“It’s only become a problem as of this week,” Mrs. Holt continues gently. “That’s why I’m letting you know now, so we can help Keith get back on track over the weekend. I know we had a similar situation at the start of the year. Whatever encouragement you gave him then certainly seemed to work then.”
“Yeah,” Shiro hears himself say, still lost in thought. “I’ll… I’ll talk to him.”
“Thank you. It’s very unusual for him to struggle with his classwork. Has he mentioned anything to you about having trouble at school?”
Shiro hesitates. His mind automatically thinks back to just last week, when Keith told him about the altercation he had with another kid at school and implied that it might not have been the first time. Is that something he should mention now while he has the chance? It would definitely put him at ease, knowing someone is looking out for him when he can’t be there himself. But hadn’t he made it pretty clear to Keith that he should let Mrs. Holt know if there were any more problems? She wouldn’t be asking if she didn’t already know.
Then again, Keith hadn’t exactly been thrilled to tell Shiro about what happened last week. Shiro might need to speak up for him, but he also needs Keith to learn to feel comfortable speaking up for himself. Besides, it might be nothing. He doesn’t want to cause any unnecessary trouble. If something is going on, he needs to give Keith the chance to bring it up first.
“Not that I can think of,” he answers finally. “But thanks for the call. I’ll make sure he finishes everything.”
They say their polite goodbyes and Shiro sets his phone down, pushing away from the counter. Keith is rather obviously trying but failing to appear casual, but he’s already rearranged his colored pencils multiple times for seemingly no reason. He doesn’t look up when Shiro exits the kitchen and walks over to the table, and hunches his shoulders slightly when Shiro then takes a seat across from him. At least he has the decency to look guilty, though Shiro doesn’t want him to dwell on it for too long.
He lets the silence draw out just a little bit while he tries to determine the best way to approach this. “So, that was your teacher.” Keith continues to stare at his pencils. They’re currently organized in groups by color, from light to dark. Shiro drums his fingers against the table. “She says you’ve been falling behind on classwork. Do you know anything about that?”
Keith shifts awkwardly in his chair, his eyes still cast downward. “Yeah,” he answers, voice small.
Shiro hums. “She also says you’ve got a bit of make-up work to take care of this weekend. Is that right?”
“...Yeah.”
“Okay. When we got home, I asked if you were finished with your homework and you said yes. Do you remember that?”
At this point Keith has gone very still, his hands buried in his lap. His lower lip wobbles. “Yeah.”
Shiro doesn’t want to make him cry. That’s not his goal or intention, not in the slightest. “Okay,” he repeats softly. “Then I’m going to ask you one more time, and I want you to be honest with me, okay? Did you finish your homework?”
Keith swallows, glancing somewhere off to the side before slowly shaking his head. Shiro puffs out a quiet breath, relieved. The last thing he wanted to do was spend the next fifteen minutes trying to drag the truth out of him. “Alright. In that case, I want you to put your sketchbook away and do that first. Remember our deal?”
“I know,” Keith mumbles, and he really does sound sorry. “I’m sorry.”
Shiro watches for a moment as Keith obediently starts to put his things away, carefully flipping shut the cover of his sketchbook and scooping up his colored pencils. It’s not like he wanted or expected Keith to be difficult about it, but somehow this doesn’t feel like the better alternative. He took their agreement so seriously at the beginning. There must be a reason if he’s electing to ignore it now. He could ask about it directly, but how will he ever teach Keith to ask for help if Shiro is always asking on his behalf?
“Are you having a hard time understanding the lessons?” he asks instead, hoping that if he keeps the conversation going for long enough then Keith might choose to open up on his own. “It’s okay if you need some help.”
“No.”
“Okay. If you ever change your mind, I’m always right here if you need me.”
“Okay.”
Shiro chews on his lip as Keith pulls out his folders and pencils, organizing them into a neat pile in front of him. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe Shiro is overthinking and Keith just needed another little push in the right direction, and by next week everything will be back to normal and he’ll forget that this was ever even an issue. He just has to know one more thing.
“Hey, Keith.” Keith stops what he’s doing and looks up, finally giving Shiro an opportunity to study his face. He can’t quite make anything of his expression. “If there’s something going on at school, you would tell me, right?”
The fact that he looks away before answering doesn’t feel like a good sign. “Yeah.”
Shiro doesn’t press. But as much as he hates to say it… he isn’t sure he believes him this time.
。·:*:·★。·:*:·☆
By the time the next week rolls around, Shiro finds himself holding his breath every afternoon, unsure whether or not he should be expecting another call.
To Keith’s credit, he does seem to be honoring his end of the deal—though that might be because Shiro has started checking on him a little more frequently, just to make sure he’s doing his homework like he says he is. To be clear, it’s not that Shiro doesn’t trust him—it’s not like he thinks Keith stopped doing his homework last week to intentionally spite him. He just… might need a little extra attention to stay focused, that’s all. Homework is boring, and it’s easy to get distracted. Shiro gets it.
When the phone hasn’t rang by Wednesday evening, Shiro figures they’re probably in the clear. Maybe whatever was going on last week resolved itself, or maybe there was never anything going on at all. Either way, Shiro decides to back off again and let Keith be. Once again, it seems like everything has returned to normal.
Then his phone rings on Thursday afternoon. Clearly he spoke too soon.
His stomach fills with dread as he answers the call, gripping the phone tightly against his ear. “This is Shiro.”
“Hello, Shiro.” Mrs. Holt’s voice is always so kind, and Shiro is grateful for it. “It’s Mrs. Holt again. Is this a good time?”
Shiro goes to his bedroom door and peers into the hallway. Keith’s back is to him where he sits at the table, coloring away on one of his latest drawings. He eases the door shut and moves further into the room. “Sure, yeah. Is it Keith again?”
For once, Mrs. Holt actually seems to hesitate. “Well, yes. I assume you spoke to him about last week.”
“I did,” Shiro confirms, his heart rate spiking a little. Did Keith already stop turning in his homework again? Has he been lying still? What is going on?
“I appreciate that. For what it’s worth, he did complete all his work during the beginning of the week, but I’m missing his take-home work from yesterday and today.”
Shiro swallows, sinking down onto the bed. “I see.”
“I’d like to get a handle on things before it becomes a pattern,” Mrs. Holt continues gently. “I wondered if you and Keith might be able to meet with me tomorrow after school so we can talk about it together.”
“Yeah. Yeah, of course. What time?”
“Does three forty-five work for you?”
“I’ll make it work.” Shiro’s chest has pulled itself tight with worry. “Thank you. I’m really sorry for the trouble.”
“Don’t be,” she chides, though she sounds just as understanding. He wonders if she has any children of her own. “We both have the same goal here. Keith is a good kid. Whatever the reason is for all this, we’ll help him get his feet back on the ground.”
Keith is a good kid. Shiro knows this, has seen it firsthand over and over again during all the time he’s known him. So why does he keep lying?
They finish the call and he immediately leaves the room, which might have been his first mistake. Maybe he should’ve taken a moment to compose himself and gather his thoughts, to sort through the confusing mix of emotions warring in his chest. But all he can seem to think about right now is that Keith lied to him, again, and he doesn’t understand why. Does he just not want to listen anymore or is there something more to it? If something’s wrong, why won’t he just talk to Shiro about it? He thought they were making progress. He thought Keith trusted him. What is he doing wrong?
Keith looks up when he hears Shiro, gripping the edges of his sketchbook and smiling like he wants to show him something, but that smile instantly vanishes when he sees Shiro’s face. He doesn’t say anything, but Shiro doesn’t really give him the chance.
“You lied again.”
Keith’s eyes widen. Shiro can tell from the look on his face that he knows exactly what he’s talking about. He stares for a moment, like he’s trying to decide whether he should try to play it off or just give in, knowing full well that he’s been caught. When he still doesn’t speak, Shiro folds his arms and frowns. He doesn’t want to be angry, but he needs Keith to take this seriously.
“Mrs. Holt just called again. She says you haven’t turned in your homework the past two days.” Keith continues to stare as Shiro looks down at him, trying to keep his voice as level as possible. “What happened there?”
He makes himself wait for a response this time, even if it takes a minute. “I… didn’t do it,” Keith admits quietly.
“But you told me you did,” Shiro points out. “I asked you if you did your homework yesterday and you said yes.”
Keith won’t look him in the eye anymore. He’s got his head down and his hands in his lap, quietly picking at his nails. Shiro can’t help but feel just a little bit irritated.
“You said yes,” he repeats firmly. “Didn’t you?”
“...Yeah,” Keith mumbles.
“And today, when I asked if you did your homework, what did you say?”
“I said yes.”
“But that’s not true, is it?”
Keith crosses his arms over his chest and doesn’t answer. Shiro doesn’t need to see his face to know that he’s getting cagey, which is going to be a problem if he wants this conversation to go anywhere.
“Keith,” he starts calmly. “We talked about this.”
“I know,” Keith mumbles, only now he’s starting to sound agitated. That makes two of them.
“We made a deal.”
“I know.”
Shiro sighs, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing his temples. “Then I’m going to ask you one more time. Have you done your homework today?”
Keith hunches his shoulders, his fingers digging into his sleeves. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Cuz I don’t want to!”
Shiro hesitates, pressing his lips together. He really, really doesn’t want to have to do this. “Fine. Then I’m taking this.”
Keith’s head snaps up as Shiro steps forward and picks up his sketchbook from the table. His mouth drops open. “That’s not fair!”
“I think it’s plenty fair.” Shiro hates this, but at this point he doesn’t know what else he can do. He has to hold his ground here. “From now on, I’m going to be holding onto your sketchbook every day until you can show me your finished homework.”
“But—”
“I’m not changing my mind on this, Keith. If you’re not going to hold up your end of the bargain, then I have no way of holding up mine. You can have this back after you do your work for the day.”
“I don’t want to!” Keith repeats, his volume steadily rising.
Shiro frowns. “If you won’t do your homework, then your only other option is to go to your room.”
“Fine!” Keith shouts. “I will!” He plants his hand on the table and slides out of his chair, scattering all of his colored pencils in the process, and Shiro watches silently as he storms off down the hall to his room. The door slams shut and it makes Shiro flinch, even if he saw it coming a mile away.
He stands very still for several moments afterward, trying to make sense of all the frustrated thoughts swirling around in his head. A few of Keith’s pencils roll off the table and clatter to the ground by his backpack. Shiro forces himself to unclench his jaw and breathe.
The very next thing he knows, he’s got his phone in his hand.
“Hey, Takashi. What’s—”
“I think I messed up,” Shiro blurts. He’s sitting on the floor of the tiny cramped entry hall in the apartment, because his room is too close to Keith’s and he doesn’t want him to overhear.
Adam puffs out the rest of the breath he’d been trying to use. “Okay. Explain.”
So Shiro does. He explains everything, from the first call he got from Mrs. Holt to the second, his conversation with Keith last week and their conversation today. How Keith keeps lying but he doesn’t know why, how he knows something is wrong but doesn’t know what. How he took Keith’s sketchbook because he didn’t know how else to show him that this was serious, and how Keith stormed off because of it. By the time he’s finished, he swears he’s starting to feel physically sick over it.
He presses his face into his knees with a groan, shaking his head. “Adam, I don’t know what to do. Everything was going so well up until last week. We were making so much progress, and now—what if I just ruined everything? And all in one day, too.”
“One little squabble isn’t going to ruin everything, hon,” Adam hums.
“‘Squabble’,” Shiro mutters. “Who even says that?”
“Takashi.”
“Sorry.”
Adam is quiet for a moment. Shiro can imagine sitting in his office chair, absent-mindedly swiveling back and forth as he thinks. “Can I say something?”
Shiro sighs, opening his eyes to stare at the ground. That phrase almost always means that Adam is about to say something brutally honest, but only because it’s something he thinks he really needs to hear. “Fine.”
“You need to stop taking everything so personally.”
Shiro resists the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m not—”
“Listen, ‘Kashi,” Adam interrupts, and all the annoyance that Shiro wanted to feel instantly melts away when he hears how gentle Adam is trying to be. “It’s not your fault, okay? It’s not anyone’s fault. He’s just a kid, and kids make mistakes. You’re not doing Keith any favors by feeling like a moral failure every time he does something wrong, trust me.”
“I know,” Shiro murmurs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know, it’s just—” He sighs again, leaning back against the wall and staring up at the ceiling. One of the bulbs in the light fixture directly above him is out. He makes a mental note to fix it later. “It’s not even the lying that really bothers me. It’s the fact that there’s gotta be something going on that he’s not telling me, but no matter how hard I try to get him to open up he just… won’t. I don’t know.” He runs his fingers through his hair and drops his hand to the ground. “I really thought he was starting to trust me, but I guess I was wrong.”
Adam doesn’t miss a beat. “Again, you need to stop taking everything so personally. How do you know this has anything to do with whether or not he trusts you?”
Shiro opens his mouth. Closes it. “Okay. Your turn to explain.”
“Trust is a two-way street, right? I think he really does trust you, Takashi. But he spent the last, what, six years? Surrounded by people who never believed a single word he said. If I kept getting punished for telling the truth, I’d probably start lying, too.” Shiro chews on his lip as he listens, his heart getting stuck in his throat. “I meant what I said before. Making sure he knows that you trust him would probably mean the world to him right now. But you have to keep at it, and it’s… well. It’s going to take him some time to get used to.”
Shiro drops his head between his knees and sighs loudly into the receiver. “Okay. Okay, you’re right.”
“Naturally.”
“I’m gonna go talk to him.”
“I figured. Let me know how it goes, okay?”
“I will. Thanks, Adam. I…” Shiro pauses, idly rubbing the back of his neck. “I really don’t know how I’d be doing this without you.”
“You know I’m always happy to help,” Adam says softly. “And for the record, I think you’d still be doing just fine.”
When the call ends, Shiro drops his phone into his lap and scrubs his hands over his face. It hasn’t been all that long since their argument, but it’s probably best not to let Keith stew on it for too long. Shiro doesn’t think that what he did was entirely unjustified, but he still feels awful for it. Probably wasn’t a great show of trust, either. Seriously, why does Adam always have to be right?
He climbs to his feet and starts making his way to Keith’s room before he can lose his nerve. Keith’s sketchbook is still lying open on the table where Shiro left it, but something on the page catches his eye this time, and he finds himself reaching for it on his way through the kitchen. It’s a wonder that he doesn’t break down when he sees the picture that Keith has drawn, the same one he’d tried to show him earlier. In the center of the page is a drawing of what looks just like the solar surfer from Treasure Planet, which Keith certainly knows by now is Shiro’s favorite movie. But instead of Jim Hawkins standing there on the surfer, it’s Shiro—riding it through the sky without a single care in the world.
That’s it. He’s gotta fix this, pronto.
He leaves the sketchbook and goes down the hall to Keith’s room before he can lose his nerve. The door is shut tightly, but Shiro still thinks he can hear Keith moving around inside. He had seemed so upset earlier. Shiro hopes it’s been long enough that he doesn’t shut down and go silent at the mere sight of him. He takes a deep breath and raises a hand to knock.
“Keith?” he calls softly. “Can I come in?” He waits for a moment, but the rustling continues from the other side and he doesn’t receive any sort of response. Keith might just be ignoring him. That’s probably fair. He’s got to try anyway.
“Keith,” he starts again, slowly pushing the door open and stepping inside. “Can we please ta…”
The rest of his sentence completely dies on his tongue when he sees the state of the room. Every single one of Keith’s dresser drawers is open, with random pieces of clothing hanging over the edges or strewn across the floor. All his shoes now lie in a piled heap against the wall, and all the toys and trinkets that Keith has collected since living here are scattered across his bed. And in the center of it all is Keith himself, sitting on the floor in front of his open closet and clearly struggling to stuff his belongings into his tiny suitcase.
Shiro suddenly finds himself utterly speechless, his mind having gone completely empty. He thinks he might be having an out-of-body experience. “Wha—Keith?”
Keith jumps, having been so wrapped up in what he was doing that he never even heard Shiro come in. He whips his head around and Shiro stares, both of them totally frozen in place. A beat of silence passes between them, and then before Shiro can even begin to process what’s happening, Keith bursts into tears.
“Please don’t send me back!” he wails. “I w-won’t mess up again, I promise. I promise I’ll be good!”
Shiro’s heart drops into the pit of his stomach like a block of ice. “Keith,” he breathes.
“I don’t wanna leave,” Keith wails again, and at this point Shiro is practically running across the room to get to him. He reaches down and swiftly scoops Keith up into his arms, messily folded clothes and mismatched socks falling from his lap and onto the floor. Keith immediately latches onto him and clings to the collar of his shirt, crying into his shoulder. “P-please don’t make me leave, Shiro.”
“Keith, sweetie,” Shiro hushes him, cradling the back of his head. “No one’s leaving, okay? You’re not going anywhere. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m sorry,” Keith continues to sob, even as Shiro tries to quietly shush him. “I’m sorry I lied, I won’t do it e-ever again.” He sniffles, burying his face against Shiro’s neck and holding on even tighter. “Just please don’t make me go back.”
“That was never an option. Keith, listen to me.” He draws back and makes Keith lift his head to look at him, using his free hand to brush the hair out of Keith’s eyes. His face is red and puffy and streaked with tears, and just the sight of him in such a state makes Shiro’s heart fall into pieces. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily. We’re brothers, right? Sometimes brothers fight, even over the smallest of things. But at the end of the day they always come back to each other, because that’s just what brothers do. They still love each other, no matter what.”
He brushes some of the tears off Keith’s face as he continues to cry, hiccuping slightly. “I’m so sorry that I ever made you feel like you have to be perfect to be able to stay here. I’m not going to give you away just because you made one mistake, or two, or ten, a hundred or even a million. I’m not going to give you away, ever, because you’re my brother now and brothers have to stick together. Do you understand that? I need to know that you understand that.”
Keith nods as he wipes at his eyes with the back of his hands, sniffing, but Shiro touches his shoulder to get his attention again. “I mean it. Keith, look at me.” He swallows down the lump in his throat when Keith does, his eyes still shining with more unshed tears. “You never have to worry about anyone sending you away ever again, alright? This is your home now. You’re my brother, and nothing you do is ever going to change that. Got it?”
More tears drip onto Keith’s cheeks as he nods again, his lower lip trembling. “Uh-huh,” he croaks.
“Good,” Shiro breathes. “C’mere.” He pulls Keith back into his shoulder and he goes willingly, muffling the rest of his sobs in Shiro’s shirt.
He eases himself down onto the bed and holds Keith like that for a while, letting him release all the pent-up emotion he’s no doubt been holding in for the past couple weeks. His grip around Shiro’s shoulders never once loosens and it makes Shiro’s heart ache, knowing just how afraid Keith had been of being sent away. The fact that he so quickly assumed he was being sent away at all is devastating to him all on its own. It’s erased any lingering doubt in his mind that Keith doesn’t like it here, but god. He never wants Keith to feel afraid like that ever again.
Keith continues sniffling even after the crying has mostly stopped, and still he doesn’t let go. Shiro runs his fingers through his hair and smooths it down, occasionally murmuring things like you’re okay and I’ve got you , anything he can think of to be reassuring. Because when is the last time anyone did this for him? When’s the last time someone remembered he’s just a child who needs holding, told him everything would be okay and really meant it? Keith sniffs again and Shiro breathes out a quiet sigh, running a hand up and down his back.
“Are you okay now?” he asks softly. Keith nods silently, ruffling his hair. “Okay. We’ll stay right here for a little bit.”
Keith turns his head to lay his cheek against his shoulder, and Shiro takes the chance to wipe away some of the wetness from his face. Honestly, they might both need a nap after this. “Do you wanna tell me why you’ve been struggling to get your work done lately?”
In this case, he thinks Keith’s silence is actually a good sign. Needing help has always been one of the hardest things for him to verbalize. Shiro waits patiently, continuing to run his fingers through his hair.
“Is there something going on at school?” he presses gently, when it’s been a while and Keith still hasn’t said anything.
Keith hesitates, but eventually he nods again, sniffling. “Mhm.”
Shiro hums. “Will you tell me a little about it?”
He can feel Keith flexing his fingers every time they catch the fabric of his shirt. “I didn’t wanna get in trouble,” he answers quietly.
Shiro pauses, thinking. “Does this have anything to do with the same kid from before?”
“Yeah.”
That’s exactly what he was afraid of. Shiro breathes deeply through his nose and exhales slowly. He’ll deal with his own feelings about that later. Now is definitely not the time to have beef with another ten-year-old. “I thought so. What’s his name?”
“James,” Keith mumbles.
“And what’s he been doing to you this time?”
Keith sits up then but doesn’t go far, wiping his face with the backs of his hands. He won’t quite make eye contact, dropping his hands into his lap and pulling at his fingers. “I dunno,” he mumbles again, which means he most definitely does know. “He keeps bothering me and Lance at recess. Lance keeps telling him to leave us alone, but he doesn’t. And he’s extra mean to Lance ‘cuz he knows it makes me upset.”
“Yeah?” Shiro brushes his bangs out of his face where it’s still sticky from tears. “Mean in what way?”
“Like—calling him names and stuff. And pushing him around when we don’t do what he wants us to.” He sniffs and his voice starts to wobble, and he’s starting to look dangerously close to crying again. “A-and I tried to do what you said. I don’t do anything back but he still does stuff to me anyway. He throws paper at me in class when Mrs. Holt isn’t looking and takes my stuff so I can’t finish my worksheets.”
Shiro is appalled, quite frankly, but he keeps his expression neutral for Keith’s sake. Seriously though, doesn’t this kid have anything better to do? “And let me guess. You didn’t want to tell me or Mrs. Holt because you still thought you might get in trouble.”
“Yeah,” Keith admits.
“Oh, Keith…” Shiro trails off with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “I’m so sorry. I feel like part of this is my fault. When I told you to try not to do anything back to him, I didn’t mean you should just—put up with what he’s doing to you.”
“I’m sorry,” Keith says quietly.
“No, this isn’t your fault. Hey.” Shiro rests a hand on Keith’s knee and dips his head a little to catch his eye. “I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t tell me what was going on. Is that why you’ve been having a hard time doing your homework, too?”
Keith swallows and looks down. “I dunno. I just—don’t want to. I dunno.” His eyes water again and he quickly wipes at them, sniffing. “Whenever I’m at school I just wanna go home.”
Shiro can’t say he blames him. If he were being tormented at school all day, the last thing he would want to think about when he got home was more school. Keith has probably been coming home every day trying to put it as far out of his mind as possible.
“Tell you what. Mrs. Holt wants to have a meeting with us tomorrow after school.” Keith lifts his head and Shiro smiles softly, squeezing his knee. “If you’re comfortable with it, I want you to tell her everything you just told me so she can start keeping an eye out for it. You won’t have to worry about getting in trouble, because I’ll be there to have your back. Do you think you can do that?”
Keith just looks at him for a moment, eyes searching as if he’s trying to figure out whether or not there’s some kind of catch. Shiro never wavers, deliberately holding his gaze until Keith seems to find what he’s looking for.
“Okay,” he says finally, and this time it sounds like he really means it.
“Okay,” Shiro agrees, breathing out a small sigh of relief. He takes a second to quickly look around the room, properly surveying the mess. “Now that that’s taken care of… do you want some help putting all your things away?”
Instead of answering, Keith abruptly surges forward and throws his arms back around him. Shiro jumps a little, blinking as Keith buries his face against his chest and mumbles: “Thank you for believing me.”
Shiro’s heart aches a little. He wraps his arms around Keith’s shoulders and holds him there, dropping a kiss into his hair.
“I always have.”
。·:*:·★。·:*:·☆
Shiro went to bed that night feeling like he could finally just relax. Everything was going to be taken care of, and Keith was going to be just fine. Maybe they weren’t quite out of the woods just yet as they say, but they were getting pretty darn close.
Once again, he spoke just a liiittle too soon.
He’s at work when his cell phone rings, which usually he would ignore except for a few select people. But when he sees Mrs. Holt’s name lighting up the screen he does a double take, confused. It’s not even one yet, and as far as he can remember, they had planned to meet at school at three forty-five. Unless he got the time wrong?
“Hello? Mrs. Holt?”
“Er… hello, Shiro. Bad time?”
Shiro sits up straight in his chair, instantly on high alert. He’s never heard her sound even remotely flustered, much less heard her speak in less than a complete sentence. “No, that’s okay. Is everything alright?”
“Well…” She actually hesitates, like she doesn’t know how to put her thoughts into words. “I don’t want to alarm you, because we’re still trying to sort out the details, but—ah, well. Keith and two other boys were involved in a bit of an altercation at recess. I’ve already gotten in touch with the other boys’ parents as well and asked them to meet at the office.”
Shiro’s heart drops into the pit of his stomach for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. If what he thinks happened actually happened, if that kid so much as laid another finger on Keith, he’s going to—to— have words , or something.
“I’ll be right there,” he blurts, already scrambling to gather his things and rush out the door.
Not two seconds after getting off the phone with Mrs. Holt, he calls Adam.
“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” Adam answers, teasing. As much as Shiro would love to indulge him, right now there is simply no time.
“Keith,” he pants, already out of breath from practically running through the parking lot to his car. “At school, Mrs. Holt—she said there was an altercation, or something.”
Adam is silent for a beat. “I’ll be right there,” he says, and ends the call before Shiro can respond. Not that there’s much else to be said, anyway.
He makes it to the school in record time. If there’s one thing he hopes Keith never picks up from him, it’s how he drives when he’s under stress. The woman at the front desk directs him to the principal’s office and he quickly thanks her, taking off down the hallway she pointed into. Honestly, his thoughts are so scrambled that he’s already forgotten how far he needs to go or which door he’s looking for, but luckily it doesn’t matter. Almost immediately he spots Keith himself sitting on a bench against the wall, staring down at his hands in his lap and anxiously kicking his feet.
“Keith!” he calls, hurrying down the rest of the hallway as Keith looks up in surprise, eyes wide. Shiro is out of breath by the time he reaches him, kneeling down in front of him and reaching up to push his hair out of his face. “Hey, I got here as soon as I could. Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
He’s relieved to see that Keith doesn’t have another black eye, or any other visible injury for that matter. Keith stares as he continues to check him over, inspecting his face and arms for scratches or bruises or anything of the like. “I’m okay.”
“Are you sure? Mrs. Holt called me up here.” He puts a hand on Keith’s knee, still searching his face despite not finding anything out of the ordinary. “I was worried that the other kid might have started a fight with you or something.”
“He didn’t,” Keith says, then hesitates. “I mean… kinda.”
“What do you mean? What happened?”
“James pushed me ‘cuz I was ignoring him, and Lance got mad.”
Shiro blinks. “Lance?”
The door to the principal’s office flings open at that very moment, disturbing the quiet of the hallway. Out of the office comes a woman with long, curly hair, dragging along a boy who Shiro recognizes to be Lance by the ear and speaking rapid-fire Spanish that he won’t even begin to try to understand. Lance is speaking back to her just as quickly, glaring as he tries and fails to free himself from his mother’s grip. He’s got a pretty bad scratch on his face, and a few more up and down his arms that look just as recent. Their voices fill the hall and Shiro watches in bewilderment, trying to make sense of what he’s witnessing.
Then just before the door swings shut, Shiro catches sight of the other boy sitting inside with his parents, arms crossed tightly over his chest as they speak to the principal. His neatly cut hair is sticking up in a few odd places, and on his face sits a permanent scowl and an angry, bright purple bruise. The door clicks shut and all the pieces fall into place.
Shiro turns back to Keith, who’s watching him nervously. “Ah. I see.” Keith’s expression turns a little sheepish, which is silly because apparently all he’d done was get pushed. Shiro huffs a small laugh of relief and reaches up to ruffle his hair. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”
Keith smiles a tiny smile, and it’s at this point that Lance’s mom seems to realize they’re not the only ones there. She stops scolding Lance for long enough to take a proper look at Shiro and Keith sitting there on the bench, and her eyes light up with recognition. “Oh! You must be the Keith I’ve heard so much about. And you must be his brother.”
Lance takes advantage of the situation and pulls himself free while she’s distracted, grumbling and rubbing at his ear. Shiro quickly rises to his feet and clears his throat, politely extending his hand. “Yes, that’s me. Er—I’m Shiro. And you must be Mrs. McClain?”
“Please, call me Marisol,” she says, smiling warmly as she clasps her hands around his and shakes. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you. So sorry for the trouble.” She leans in conspiratorially, lowering her voice. “Though for the record, most of this is just for show. It was about time someone stood up for your boy. I’m just doing my part to appease the school, that’s all.”
She winks, and a surprised laugh bubbles up out of Shiro’s mouth. “Oh. Uh, thank you. I appreciate that.”
“I’m here!” Everyone turns to look as Adam comes rushing down the hall, equally out of breath as Shiro had been just moments before. He comes to a stop by the bench and puts his hands on his knees, panting slightly. “Okay, I’m here. Who won?”
“Me,” Lance announces without missing a beat.
Marisol turns on him. “Leandro!”
“What?”
He groans as she takes him by the arm and launches back into Spanish, lugging him down the hall before he can protest. Before they get too far though, he turns back and waves, smiling a big, toothy grin. “Bye, Keith!” he calls cheerfully, even as Marisol continues to give him an earful about… something or other.
“Bye,” Keith calls back, smiling.
The three of them watch silently as Lance and his mother reach the end of the hall and disappear around the corner, casually arguing with each other the whole way. Keith seems entirely unfazed by it, so Shiro assumes it’s not entirely uncommon. He’s pretty sure Lance is going to be just fine.
“Well,” Adam says after a moment, standing up straight. “She seems lovely. Remind me to have her over for dinner sometime.” He smiles when Keith giggles, reaching down to ruffle his hair even though Shiro just did the same thing. “What’d I miss?”
“I think,” Shiro starts, lowering himself down on the bench beside Keith with a huff of amusement, “Lance got himself into a fight so that Keith wouldn’t have to.”
Adam raises both eyebrows in surprise. “Huh. That settles it, then. We’re definitely having them over for dinner sometime.”
Keith smiles into his lap and kicks his feet a little, pleased. Shiro puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes gently. “He’s a good friend. I’m glad you guys have each other.”
“Me too,” Keith agrees quietly.
The door to the principal’s office opens yet again, and Shiro looks up as James and his parents step out. All three of them remain completely silent as they walk by, each of them looking sullen and irritable. His parents don’t even acknowledge them, which Shiro has half a mind to snap at them for considering what their kid has been doing, but Adam shoots him a look that says it’s not worth it before he can lose his cool. James glares at Keith on his way past, but Keith ignores him, and Shiro is very proud.
Someone clears their throat in the doorway and Shiro looks again to see Mrs. Holt standing there, looking a bit frazzled but otherwise alright. She folds her hands in front of her and smiles the same kind smile she always does as Shiro shoots to his feet. “Thank you for coming on such short notice, Shiro. I think we’ve mostly sorted everything out, but we’d still like to discuss what happened with you as well, if that’s alright.”
Shiro nods. “Of course.”
Mrs. Holt turns to Keith then, her voice softening. “Are you ready, Keith? We’d like to hear your side of the story, too.”
Keith freezes slightly, his gaze flicking nervously toward Shiro. This is his chance to finally be heard, and from the look on his face he knows that. But he still needs some support—Shiro understands that now more than anyone, and he’s more than happy to be that for him. He holds his hand out and smiles in a silent offering of reassurance, and he can see the moment that Keith makes up his mind. Keith takes Shiro’s hand and slides to the floor with a nod, his eyes flashing with a newfound determination.
“I’m ready.”