Work Text:
Darkness enveloped Keith, swallowing his body whole. It was like outer space, but no planets or stars lit up the infinite void. Not a single piece of matter floated alongside Keith. And if there were, he wouldn’t be able to tell. He couldn’t even see his hand in front of his face.
Sound was also nonexistent in the abyss; any whisper or gasp Keith made made no effect on the choking silence. Even his desperate attempts to scream were in vain.
Suddenly, Keith was blinded by a garish flash of light, and when the brightness died down, Keith could see again.
He stood in the Black Lion’s cockpit, and debris from the battle drifted in the space in front of the window. In the distance, Keith saw the Galra headquarters, chunks of metal and machinery missing. The Lions were not far away, devoid of the lights in their eyes.
Keith was in the Black Lion’s cockpit, and it was the day Voltron lost Shiro. The day Keith lost Shiro.
But unlike that day, Shiro’s chair didn’t sit empty, devoid of any trace of him. No. He sat at the controls, head bent over, as if he was sleeping.
“Shiro?” Keith called. No response.
Maybe he’s been knocked out, Keith thought as he walked towards his brother. Maybe the past few months were a dream, maybe Shiro’s okay, maybe–
At that moment, when Keith came in front of Shiro, any hope of the man’s survival was destroyed.
Blood pooled under Shiro’s body, dripping onto the floor in a gory river of scarlet. In his chest was a giant hole, and Keith could see the white of the chair behind him. Shiro’s white tuft of hair was stained red from a gushing wound on his head, his skull dented.
“Why didn’t you save me, Keith?”
The disembodied voice of Shiro flooded Keith’s mind, though the body didn’t move.
“I-I’m sorry,” Keith stumbled. “We couldn’t get to you in time. Zarkon– he must’ve–”
“It’s your fault I’m dead, Keith. You could’ve saved me. But no. You failed to do something as simple as that. Do you really think you’re capable enough to lead Voltron?”
The words were like a knife in Keith’s heart. “I know I’m n–not the leader you were, I know I never could live up to you, but I’m trying my best.”
“That’s not enough!” Shiro yelled. “I never should’ve entrusted Voltron to you, and I should’ve abandoned you at the foster home when I had the chance. Just like your parents did.”
Keith was too stunned to talk.
The body on the seat suddenly shot up, and grabbed Keith by the neck. In the place where his eyes would’ve been were vacant slots of bloody flesh. He squeezed, not letting up against Keith’s feeble attacks.
“Shiro,” Keith rasped, prying at Shiro’s hand. “Please.”
The body remained expressionless, grip tightening.
The darkness began to close in on Keith again.
“Shiro!”
Shiro…
^-_/*\_-^
“SHIRO!” Keith screamed, shooting up in his bed, heaving for breath. His hands wrestled over his neck, feeling for the ghost grip that Shiro’s body still had on him.
The lights his room turned on, and Keith blinked away the disorientation. His heart pounded in his chest.
Keith sighed and leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes and trying to regain control of his breath. He pressed his fist into his collar, rubbing the skin that stretched over the bone and digging his knuckle in, hoping the small pain would be enough to distract him. It wasn’t.
Keith stood from his bed and flapped his hands around as he paced, shaking his head, as if the movement would rid him of the images in his head. He tried breathing rhythmically, but it just ended up with Keith nearly hyperventilating.
With half a mind, Keith threw himself out of his room, and let his feet guide him to wherever.
Somehow, Keith wound up in front of Lance’s door, frozen to the spot. His hand was half-extended towards the button, then it hit him: God, what was he doing, going to Lance, of all people? Keith had never, ever, been one to ask for help, and going to Lance was definitely a low point in his life.
But still, something made Keith stay.
He accidentally inched his hand closer, but forgot that the doors were automatic, and made quite a loud whoosh when activated.
“Shit!” Keith hissed.
Lance stirred in his bed, turning towards the door. “Keith?” Lance said sleepily, flipping up his sleeping mask. His blue eyes were bright with concern, even in the dark. “Hey, what’s up? You okay?” Any remaining disappeared from Lance’s demeanor.
“Um…” Keith faltered, seriously considering going back to his room. He didn’t want to bother Lance, but the threat of nightmares was too great. Seeing Shiro dead in front of him… Keith wouldn’t be able to fathom it again.
“Keith?” Lance repeated.
Keith had hesitated too long. “Can I come in?” he whispered, keeping his head turned downwards.
Lance’s eyes widened. “Uh, yeah, totally.” He scooched over in his bed, making room for Keith.
The boy gladly walked over and sat down, scrunching his body into a fetal position, and resting his head on his knees. He hugged his shins, and almost jumped out of his skin when he felt Lance’s hand on his back. The touch sent sparks through Keith’s body.
Lance drew his hand away, taking the sparks with him. “Woah, sorry man,” he said, backing up. “I-I can stop, if you–”
“N-no, keep going,” Keith said. The spot where Lance’s hand was tingled. “It… It feels nice. D-don’t stop. Please.”
Lanced nodded, and continued to rub Keith’s back, slowly moving closer. “Do… Do you wanna tell me what happened?”
“It was just a nightmare,” Keith said, trying to keep his voice level. But the images were resurfacing in his mind’s eye: the gaping hole in Shiro’s chest; his hair stained with red; so much blood, God, it–
Keith let out a sob, then slapped his hand over his mouth to muffle the noise. He bit his lip so hard it drew blood, and his body trembled. “Shi– Shiro was in it, and I…”
Lance pulled Keith to chest, carding his fingers through the boy’s hair. “It’s okay, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“I miss him,” Keith wept, shaking. “I miss Shiro so fucking much.”
“I know, mi amigo. I know. We all do.”
Keith gripped Lance’s shirt with a bone-breaking grasp, his cries breaking Lance’s heart in two. The tears dampened the Blue Paladin’s clothes, but Lance didn’t care. This was the most broken he’d seen Keith since Shiro’s disappearance. Lance had expected Keith to crack in the first few weeks, but it’d been months at that point. Keith had surprisingly taken well to the leadership role Shiro left for him—not without some bumps in the road, but that was neither here nor there—and for a moment, Lance thought Keith was okay. God, he was so wrong…
For a while, Keith latched onto Lance, crying his
“Can I sleep here tonight?” Keith asked quietly, keeping his eyes closed. Tears still poured down his face. “Please. I can’t… I haven’t slept in so long. I’m so tired.”
“Yeah,” Lance said. “Always.”
Keith sighed. “T-thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” Lance grinned a little. “Everybody needs someone to lean on. I’m happy to be yours, Mullet.”
That prompted a small chuckle from Keith. “Still holding onto that stupid nickname?”
“Hey, I’ll drop it when you lose the mullet, Mullet.”
“We’re in space fighting an intergalactic war,” Keith yawned. “Not that many barbers around, and besides—” Another yawn. “—we don’t have time to… to get haircuts…”
Lance shook his head, laughing under his breath. “Go to sleep, Samurai. I got your back.”
Keith nodded, and let his eyes close. He was asleep no later than a moment later. That was when Lance realized Keith had fallen asleep in his lap, and Lance was still sitting upright. Oh, well. Keith was more than worth an awkward sleeping position.
After that night, Keith came to Lance’s room at least once a week, then almost every single day. Eventually, Keith didn’t even bother going into his own room anymore. And Lance said nothing when Keith would follow him to bed, then curl up against his chest without asking. Lance didn’t mind. If anything, he preferred to have someone to share a bed with again. Keith wasn’t the same as his siblings, but that didn’t matter.
Keith was just glad he had someone to support him through everything.
Shiro was gone. But Lance wasn’t.