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In past years, Shiro’s Valentine’s Day involved at least two love confessions and offers of dinner or a coffee. Shiro would have to decline with as much grace as he could muster, and gently try to let the other person down.
This year, Shiro doesn’t expect things to be any different. As per usual, a few of his closer acquaintances have ‘subtly’ tried to ask if he’ll be free on Saturday the fourteenth. As per usual, Shiro laughs and says something about being too engrossed with study or working to consider dating.
Which, of course, is an absolute lie.
Okay, Shiro might be a bit busy with study and work. But that doesn’t mean that he wouldn’t be open to a relationship if the right person came along.
And happened to like him back.
And the thought of asking them out weren’t so terrifying.
Shiro sighs, his expression fond but also slightly pained. Because the thing is? He has found the right person, and this year’s reason for his eventual turning down of all the Valentine’s confessions will be the same as every other year: the beautiful boy who currently has his head pillowed against Shiro’s thigh, breathing softly in his sleep as Shiro gently runs calloused fingers through his hair. Often dubbed best pilot of his generation—if not best pilot ever to have gone through the Garrison—known for his iron will and sometimes impulsive behaviour, Keith is currently napping away in Shiro’s dorm.
He’s so close that Shiro doesn’t want it to end. He has everything he’s ever wanted right here: black hair soft between his fingers, a rare moment of quiet to just enjoy Keith’s presence, and Keith looking absolutely gorgeous with how the final glimmers of evening sunlight stream through clear glass to light the fair skin of his face.
Yes, everything Shiro wants. Except, he thinks with a pang, Keith himself.
Unfortunately, even this can’t last.
With a sigh, Shiro shifts his hand to rest on Keith’s shoulder instead of his gorgeous hair, and gives him a gentle shake.
“Keith,” he calls softly, biting back the urge to add on the word love. “Wake up, you should head back to your room.”
The way that Keith frowns and shifts makes Shiro hate that he has to disturb his friend. Then Keith actually whines, quite pitifully, and Shiro just wants to let him sleep forever.
“Hey, buddy. You need to get up, you said you needed to work on something.”
“‘Kashi, no,” Keith grumbles, and Shiro’s heart does a little turn, like it always does when Keith says his name. Or well, when Keith does anything really, judging by the way it keeps leaping even when Keith’s doing nothing more than blinking sleepily up at Shiro, scowling. Apparently Shiro’s heart doesn’t really care about what’s happening, just that Keith’s involved.
“Keith, yes. You said so.”
“Why you always gotta be so ‘sponsible?” Keith mumbles, and it’s the most adorable thing Shiro has ever heard. Except for Keith’s little giggle last week when Shiro had learned that he was ticklish. Or the way be can’t say ‘specifically’ properly, or how the word ‘penguin’ magically comes out with an extra syllable when Keith says it—
My god, Shirogane. Get a grip.
“C’mon, up,” he says, clasping Keith’s arm to help him sit up. He keeps his tone firm so he won’t start gushing about the little sprig of hair that sticks up on top of Keith’s head. Instead, he just reaches forward and smooths it down, and if his hand lingers a little too long on top of Keith’s head, well…he’s only human. It’s hard enough resisting the urge to kiss away the little frown on Keith’s face.
Keith groans, long and loud, opening and closing his mouth in a way that tell Shiro he’s trying to dispel the taste of nap. “Time?”
“Seven thirty-three,” Shiro says, still keeping his voice soft. Staying quiet feels right, because he doesn’t want to shatter this magic. The soft quiet of his room, with just the gentle hum of his computer as background noise, light that’s just caught between dusk and dark, and Keith being here, soft and warm and radiant as he always is.
There’s a little ache in Shiro’s heart, because he knows that when the spell breaks, Keith will leave again. None the wiser for how beautiful he is, how he makes the stars shine, or all the ways that Shiro loves him.
And break it does (a little like the already crumbled pieces of Shiro’s heart that he laid bare at Keith’s feet long ago) when Keith jumps to his feet, eyes wide. “That late already? Crap.”
Then he’s yanking on his shoes, one which has ended up under Shiro’s bed since Keith appeared several hours ago for study, and grabbing his jacket from where it hangs on the back of Shiro’s chair. Taking back the little pieces of himself. The little pieces that Shiro only borrowed but had no right to keep.
“Easy,” Shiro says with a laugh, because even if he has no hold on Keith’s heart, Keith will always have his. “Why are you in a rush anyway?”
“I’ve got—” Keith falls over with the force with which he pulls on his shoe, his hair dropping in a mess across his face. “I’ve got something to finish,” he manages, after he’s righted himself.
“School work?”
“Nah, I did all that. Was pushing to finish it so I could move onto this thing.”
Shiro raises an eyebrow at Keith’s secretiveness. “So what’s the thing?”
And if Shiro didn’t know that Keith was keeping secrets before, he definitely does now. “Just…something I’m working on,” he says, tidying his books that were splayed across Shiro’s desk and stacking them. But he’s mumbling and staring pointedly at his hands as they work, which means that this is something more embarrassing than it is hurtful. Because Shiro, like a fool, knows every one of Keith’s moods now, and if it had been something dark or aching, Keith would be trying his best to fake happiness.
As it is, he’s just turning over every single book and saying firmly, “yep, that’s mine.”
It’s cute, that he’s trying to avoid, the way he tucks his bangs behind his ear, before the hair swings back stubbornly. He does it again.
So Shiro walks over, leans on the desk, and blows a puff of air so that Keith’s hair flutters back.
Keith turns to glare at him. “Shiro.”
Shiro grins. “Keith.”
“What?”
“What’re you working on?” Shiro asks, still smiling, because he can’t help it; Keith’s little frown is adorable.
“A thing.”
“What thing?”
“I’m just…I’m just working on something to give someone tomorrow.”
Shiro’s heart skips a beat. “It’s Valentine’s tomorrow.”
And…that’s why Keith won’t meet his eye. “Yeah.”
Ah.
Shiro doesn’t feel like smiling anymore. Still, he forces a grin, bland and brittle. “You got a date?” he asks, attaching a laugh to the end of his sentence with surgical precision. And oh, oh, how Shiro wishes that he could be the one that Keith is thinking of when Keith blushes, ducking his head to hide behind his hair.
“Not really,” Keith mutters, backing away, books sandwiched between his arm and the perfect angle of his hip. “Just…someone I’ve got in mind. It’s nothing, really. Pretty stupid.”
And despite how Shiro’s heart aches at the thought of Keith with someone else—
(someone else holding his hand, making him laugh, getting to see the way his eyes shine when he speaks of the stars)
—it hurts even more to see Keith unsure and a little scared. Shiro knows that pain all too well, because it’s what he faces every time he thinks of telling Keith how he feels, but ultimately his cowardice always wins out (after all, it’s better to have Keith as a friend than not at all).
Though now, he’ll get to watch all of that slip away. Keith won’t need him anymore, and Shiro tries to be okay with the thought what he’s about to say will only push the present closer to that reality.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he says gently, because Keith needs gentleness and love. Deserves it, more than anyone. “I’m sure whoever it is, they’ll love it. Are they a friend?”
Keith looks up hesitantly, peeking through his bangs to catch Shiro’s eye. He looks so scared, the way that he’s scowling, using anger as he always does when he’s unsure about anything. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “We’re…I think we’re pretty close. But it’s just…I don’t know what they’re thinking. I thought I had a pretty good idea, but…it’s just scary.”
“I know,” Shiro says, and he hurts with how true it is. “I know that it’s terrifying, that—that you think you might lose them, or ruin something forever. But hey, you’re the best pilot in your year, and you’ve got that wicked haircut. Who wouldn’t want to date you?” At that, Keith smiles a little, and that—the shy, hesitant tug of his lips—is why Shiro says what he says. “And,” he continues gently, “you’re smart, you’re kind, and you’re—” the best friend I have ever had, and all I’ve ever wanted “—a fantastic friend. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”
Shiro wants, so badly, to brush Keith’s hair away from his face, to tuck it behind his ear, gentle and soft. He wants, so badly, to lean down a little, cup Keith’s face in his hands, and show him how much he loves him by pressing his lips to Keith’s own. He wants, so badly, to have Keith be his, but if it was impossible before, it is even more so now.
He wants. So badly.
He will content himself with the way Keith’s smile widens, with what he hopes is a little bit of fondness directed at Shiro, even if it’s only because he’s a friend. “Thanks, Shiro. That’s—thanks. It helps.”
“I’m glad.” And it’s the truth.
“It helps more than you think,” Keith says, and now he’s back to normal, just grinning as he stands in Shiro’s doorway, ready to leave again. “Anyway, I should head back, otherwise I can’t—I won’t finish in time.”
Shiro swallows the glass shards of his broken heart. “What’re you doing?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“Hey, it’s not like I’m gonna tell.”
But Keith still shakes his head, and Shiro’s heart sinks. Something private, between Keith and whichever ridiculously lucky cadet Keith has chosen. “Nah, it’s a surprise. I can’t have you blabbing.”
“Okay.” Shiro forces a smile. “I’ll see you later then?”
“Yeah.” Keith is silent for a moment, fiddling with his books again, before he talks. “You’re not doing anything tomorrow, are you?”
Shiro shakes his head. I can’t be in love with anyone other than you. And maybe in the future, that will change. But for now? Keith is all Shiro has, and all that he wants. “I’ll probably just end up studying.”
“You didn’t get asked out by anyone?”
Shiro laughs. “Well, yeah, sure. But same thing I say every year, I don’t really have any time to date anyone at the moment.”
Keith hesitates again. “Really? Is that what you really think?” He sounds small, and god, how pathetic must Shiro be that his friend feels sorry for the fact that he can’t get a date, despite how many people ask him out on one?
“Well, it’s more that I haven’t really found the right person, I guess. But I have enough to keep me occupied anyway.” Keith still looks a bit sad, and Shiro has to smile gently for him. “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t need to worry about me. Just make sure you tell me all about how tomorrow goes, okay? I want details.”
He expected Keith to blush, to stutter, and to fumble a little. But instead, Keith just looks up at him, and there’s…something that looks like determination in his eyes. “You’ll be the first to know if anything happens.”
At least Shiro still has this, for now. At least Shiro can still say that he’s Keith’s best friend, until that all leaves in a puff of smoke. “I’ll be right here waiting for it.”
Keith smiles one last time before he open Shiro’s door, stepping out into the halls which have quieted down after dinner. This is an all too familiar scene—Keith walking away without a backward glance, Keith leaving because he’s not tied to Shiro in any way deeper than the friendship they share.
“Keith.” Shiro says his name because he’s not sure this isn’t the last time that he can taste it with all the fondness and love that he feels, without feeling guilty.
Keith turns to look at him. Curious. Beautiful.
“Good luck.”
Keith smiles. “Thanks for having my back, Shiro.”
The door shuts.
Shiro collapses on his bed and stares at the ceiling, heart aching, as night falls.
As expected, the next day he doesn’t hear from Keith at all, nor does he see him. Surprisingly, however, Shiro doesn’t get asked out on a single date. Maybe he’s been so incredibly obvious with everyone about who exactly he wishes he could be with this year that no one even bothers.
Also expected is the fact that Matt is right there to bully him. A knock on the door when Shiro’s clock reads 8:57, and Matt just waltzes right in. “Hey, heard you hadn’t swung by the kitchen to grab dinner yet, so I brought it for you.”
Shiro smiles from where he’s sitting at his desk, stretching out stiff arms from a day spent studying at his desk. He took a break for lunch, but other than that…he needed a distraction. “Thanks, Matt.”
Matt deposits a plastic bag on Shiro’s bedside table. “So, what’re you still doing moping around?” he asks. “Thought you would’ve at least stopped to eat.”
“Hiding from Valentine’s,” Shiro mutters absently, closing a binder with a snap once he’s replaced the notes that he’s now finished with.
“What, you’re telling me you don’t have a date this year?” Matt actually sounds surprised, and Shiro has no idea why.
“You know why I don’t, Matt,” he says, more morose than annoyed. The thought still hurts. “Keith’s—Keith’s got a date.”
“Ah.” The single syllable is loaded.
“Yeah.” His voice is tighter than he wants it to be. It affects him more than it has any right to; it’s not like he’d ever actually made a move. Keith didn’t owe him a thing. So he’ll work, because it’s the only way he thinks he can get through it: ignore it. Ignore the horrible thought of Keith with someone else even right now. Shiro hasn’t heard from him all day, despite the promise that he’d keep him updated, and that’s been an ache that’s grown over the hours. Maybe he found them in the morning, and had simply been too distracted with new, blooming love to think about Shiro, who was just a friend. Maybe Keith was too busy smiling that soft smile, the one that Shiro falls in love with every day, the laughing his little laugh.
All the little things Shiro won’t get now.
Behind him, Matt puffs out a breath. “Damn, Shirogane.”
“Damn is right.”
“I really think that he—”
“Matt. Don’t.”
“I’m just saying, it doesn’t make sense,” Matt argued, and Shiro hated him for feeding his desperate hope. “It’s not the end of the day yet. The kid likes you. I promise. He looks at you the way my dad looks at my mum.”
“Matt,” Shiro all but growls. “Whatever the hell either of us thought, it’s not happening, all right? He made that super clear.”
“Well, what exactly did he say? ‘Cause, I’m not kidding, Shiro, he’s into you. I swear.”
“Okay, if you want every single detail then. He was studying with me. He’d come over in the afternoon, and then he was just…” Shiro groans, because he wants to say that Keith was gorgeous and beautiful and radiant as starlight, but he thinks Matt might be sick of hearing that by now. “He fell asleep, and then when he woke up it was a little late, and he was in a rush ‘cause he said he had ‘something to finish’.” Shiro sighs. “I ask him what it is. Turns out the reason why he’s been working so hard studying is because he’s got some project on for today. He didn’t say it was for Valentine’s but…he asked me if I had anything lined up for today immediately after that.”
The memory still hurts. The way Keith’s face had fallen a little, disappointed for Shiro. Because Keith does love him, in his own way. Shiro knows that. And Shiro’s grateful for his love and support every day. It just can’t be in the way that Shiro wants it, selfish as it is.
Matt’s silent, for a long while as he fiddles around with the pens on Shiro’s desk. “Well,” he says eventually. “Did he at any point say that the person he was making something for wasn’t you?”
Shiro clenches a fist. “Matt, c’mon. That’s enough. I’ve had my fun with this…let’s just let it go.” Because ‘fun’ really describes how he feels. Because ‘fun’ was loving your friend so much every day, but being terrified of him finding out.
And the thing is, Matt also knows that Shiro doesn’t mean it. He knows as well as Shiro does that Shiro has tried just letting it go, and it has never worked. His mind and his heart have always come back to dark hair, blue eyes, and the rough, straightforward way that Keith cares for him.
“I’m just saying, you gotta at least get through the rest of the day first, okay? Before you start moping?”
Shiro sighs. “There’s what, three hours left of the day? And so what, so I can just get my hopes crushed later when he starts walking around holding someone else’s hand?”
“No, Mr Doom-And-Gloom. I’m just saying give it a chance until you know, for sure, that he’s not into you. Can you try that for me?”
Try? At the moment, Shiro’s trying his best not to hope. It’s not the hope that’s the hard part, because his heart wants so badly for it to be true. It’s easy to believe in something that you want—which just makes the pain that much sharper when it’s torn away.
A hand falls on his arm, and Shiro looks up to see kind brown eyes looking at him. “It’ll work out. Just hang on for another few hours, okay? You don’t even have to do anything. We’ll eat lunch, and watch something stupid on Netflix, and when Keith rocks up I’ll get out of your way.”
Shiro laughs, but the sound is hollow. “When Keith shows up?”
Matt shrugs. “I’d bet anything that he will.” His eyes are glinting, and Shiro really doesn’t understand why he seems so confident in his victory.
“All right, you’re on. If he doesn’t show, you owe me, Holt.”
Matt lies back in Shiro’s bed, perfectly comfortable as he reaches for the stash of snacks lying in one of Shiro’s bedside drawers. “Cool. Get Netflix up. Need something to pass the time before I prove you wrong.”
With a groan, Shiro flops down on the bed with him, grabbing his tablet. “All right, what do you want, you pest?”
“Planet Earth.”
Predictable. “Matt, those take ages.”
“Good, it’ll pass the time quicker.”
“I’m moping, I’m not sure I want to see animals tear each other apart while I’m moping. Let me mope in peace.”
“Nope, because you’re not moping. You’re having a nice distraction while we wait for your boyfriend to show up.”
Shiro huffs, trying to control the little skip of his heart when Matt says ‘boyfriend.’ “Fine.” He obliges, and soon they’re watching penguins freeze in the cold, majestic strings soaring in the background as Matt gets popcorn all over Shiro’s bed. Shiro, for his part, is eating the weird lasagne thing that Matt brought for him, polishing it off quickly.
But it doesn’t take long for Shiro get distracted from what was meant to be a distraction.
It doesn’t take long for his mind to wander to Keith again.
They’ve done this a lot. Did this just last week: Shiro propped up on the bed, tablet in one hand, the other arm slung around Keith’s shoulders as he’s pressed up against Shiro’s side. It’s those quiet moments that Shiro thinks he’ll miss the most, because it’s those moments that he loves the most. The little moments where it’s just the two of them. Keith smells nice, clean and sweet, and it’s those nights when they can just relax and be together that Shiro’s allowed to appreciate it without seeming too creepy.
There’s a knock on the door.
Shiro doesn’t know whose reaction is faster: his or Matt’s. He knows that he looks up at the door because, well, it’s his door. It makes sense.
He’s not entirely sure why Matt immediately springs up, strides over to open it, grins, and then exits without another word.
Shiro slides off his bed at a slightly slower pace, hurrying over, horribly confused. “Hey, Matt, what—”
Keith.
Keith standing in his doorway, eyes wide as they track Matt’s retreating form down the hall, before they zip back up to Shiro, looking…terrified.
“Did Matt say anything?” he asks, and Shiro blinks, confused.
“Well, he said a lot of things…” He’s not quite sure what’s going on here exactly, but confusion over Keith’s agitation gives way quickly to confusion about why he’s here in the first place. Not that the question can stop him smiling fondly down at his friend. “What’re you doing here? Need help to study?” Keith’s got one of his folders with him, though his clothes are casual. Neat and simple, but for Shiro it just highlights how beautiful he is. A simple grey t-shirt and tight black jeans that make his legs go for ages, and the boots which give him the slightest bit of help with his height.
Keith shakes his head, hair falling over his eyes. “Nah, not study.” His voice is soft and low, and his hands are still in a way that means he’s very consciously trying not to fiddle.
It’s—something in Shiro relaxes. He wanted to see Keith today, and to actually have him here is something special. It’s too much to hope that he came because it was the fourteenth, but for Shiro, it’s enough that he’s here, whatever the reason. “How was the thing with you friend today?”
“Um, haven’t done it yet. Well, I guess I’m doing it now…” he corrects himself, frowning at the floor.
He can’t—he can’t mean what Shiro wants him to mean.
“I thought…” He clears his throat. “I thought you were with someone else.”
Keith shakes his head.
Shiro doesn’t think that such a simple action has ever made him so happy. “So what were you…working on?”
Keith looks up, and smiles his little adorable smile. “Got something for, um, you.”
God, Shiro can’t stop smiling either. “Really?”
“Yeah.” He shuffles his feet again, before opening his folder, and taking out a single sheet of paper. It’s blank side up, and Shiro is dying to know what’s on the other side. “I—I don’t know if it’s weird, or if you’re even going to like it, or if it’s any good,” Keith babbles, and Shiro just wants to reach out and take whatever precious gift Keith is holding in his hands. “I’m sorry if it is, but I asked Matt, and he said that it was fine. Actually he said…never mind,” Keith says, and he’s frowning again, but the tips of his ears are red. “Thing is…you’re really important to me, Takashi.”
Oh.
Does…does Shiro dare to hope here?
“You’re important to me, too, Keith.” And because it looks like…something might…be happening, he finds the courage to reach out, brush Keith’s bangs behind his ear. Keith blinks, startled, but then the smile’s back.
“I’m…glad.” Keith shares the work with Shiro the way that he has done the rest of the little bits of his life: slowly, hesitantly, but with such vulnerability and trust that all Shiro can do in the face of such blind affection is to love him gently. He extends his hand equally slowly, grasping the sheet of paper that Keith offers like it’s the most precious, delicate jewel. In a way, it is. Keith’s trust or love has never been easily earned, but it has been worth every bit of patience that Shiro put aside for him.
Shiro turns the sheet in his hands. It’s a drawing.
A drawing of the two of them.
Keith’s watching him, eyes wide, and the smile a little helpless. “I—it was a good memory for me, so I thought…”
It is one of the memories that Shiro holds closest to his heart, keeps sealed tight in a display case to be admired on a rainy day.
The lines are in grey lead, rough but rendered with care and skill. It’s not a scene that Shiro actually witnessed, because he and Keith were both the ones experiencing it, but he recognises it instantly.
The year before, they took a trip. Just the two of them, over the academic break, gone off to the coast somewhere for a few days. The final night, they set up a campfire on the beach, the weather not too warm but not unpleasantly cold either. But enough, Shiro remembers, to have the two of them huddled up next to each other, beach towel slung around their shoulders, his own arm loose around Keith’s waist (hesitant and a little tentative, unsure of where their line was exactly), and Keith’s fingers tracing gentle patterns up Shiro’s leg. They talked about nothing, and everything. School, hopes, dreams, family.
“I want to explore the universe so badly,” Shiro remembers saying.
And Keith looked at him, and that was the moment where Shiro had…started hoping. Realised that what he had wasn’t anything as simple as a crush, wasn’t anything that could be written off as youth and hormones. Keith’s eyes shone, flickering red and yellow with the gentle flames that burned before them, and the smile he had was only for Shiro.
“I’d want to go with you.”
Emboldened by the night and by their closeness, Shiro squeezed an arm tighter around Keith’s waist, before Keith’s head fell tentatively to Shiro’s shoulder. That’s what’s sketched out on the page: the two of them, blanket loose around their shoulders, Shiro’s arm around Keith and Keith smiling fondly—a detail Shiro had missed because he couldn’t see his face at the time—as he rested his head on Shiro’s shoulder.
And then Shiro said something which he recognises now, being looped in Keith’s rough script across the bottom corner of the page.
I think we’d be great partners.
Shiro doesn’t know what to say. He said the words without any expectation. With hope, yes, but without any expectation that Keith would actually ever want to follow him anywhere. But now, with Keith standing right in front of him, scared smile on his face, and his heart and soul sketched out in paper and graphite, Shiro thinks…
No. He hopes.
“It’s—it’s a good one for me too.” He finally finds his voice. “One of the best,” he continues softly. “Is this—Keith, what does this mean?” He can’t be sure, not until he hears it from Keith’s mouth.
Or feels it.
Because next he knows, Keith’s moving forward, wrapping his arms gently around his waist, and he is way too close. “You can’t not know,” Keith whispers, and his lips are on Shiro’s.
Oh.
Oh.
Keith—Shiro can’t explain it, but it’s so entirely Keith, this feeling. His lips gentle against Shiro’s, searching, seeking, curious. His arms are tight around Shiro’s waist, gentle, but firm, like the way that Keith aggressively and blatantly cares for those who have the incredible luck to be welcome in his life. He is sweet, and soft, and Shiro cannot help but kiss him back. Shiro can’t help the way his hands move, wrapping an arm desperately around Keith’s waist so that Shiro can press down deeper. Shiro can’t help but drink in the little noise that Keith makes against his mouth, can’t help but fall apart to invincibility when Keith sags against his hold, so open, so trusting, so good.
He can’t help but love him.
They don’t part. Shiro just shoves a foot behind him to open his door, shuffling backwards, his hand splayed across Keith’s back to coax him inside. The door swings shut behind them, but they still don’t part, lips eager, and breathing seems unnecessary. At some point, he places the picture in his hand—precious, treasured, loved—on his desk, so that he can better bury his hand in Keith’s hair instead, feel the soft strands in a way that has entirely new meaning now.
It’s a bit of a blur, how they end up seated on the bed, parting slowly as their eyes open. When he does open his eyes, Shiro still can’t quite believe that it’s Keith who greets him.
“Hey there,” he says softly, sweeping Keith’s hair back from his face. Even now, he doesn’t want to be any farther apart than necessary, so he presses their foreheads together, smiling fondly as he runs his fingers along the smooth skin of Keith’s cheek.
Keith laughs, and some sort of miracle has Shiro being the one with the privilege of delivering that beautiful noise into the world. “Hi.” He sounds a little breathless, but that’s fine. Shiro’s familiar with the feeling; Keith takes his breath away every day.
Shiro kisses his nose, because it’s an adorable nose. “So…”
Keith tilts his head, and that is also adorable. Shiro has a problem. “So?”
“Are we dating then?”
Keith laughs again, twining his fingers with Shiro’s. “I thought that was pretty obvious when I showed up at your door on Valentine’s Day with a sappy picture of the two of us, and then kissed you.”
Smiling—he can’t seem to stop—Shiro lifts their hands, kissing Keith’s knuckles. “Just wanted to avoid any confusion, Keith,” he says disapprovingly.
“Okay then, Shirogane,” Keith sighs, the sound heavy with exasperation. “Yes, we are dating. Yes, I’ll be your boyfriend.” But then he blinks, and ducks his head to hide behind his hair. “Um, if you want me to.”
The words fill Shiro’s heart, and all he can do is brush Keith’s hair away and kiss his forehead. “I would love you to.”
“Great.” Keith sticks his hand out, and Shiro laughs when he realises what he’s doing.
Obligingly, he takes Keith’s hand and shakes it. “It’s good doing business with you.”
But then he pulls Keith forward, right up against his chest, their hands now sandwiched between them, and his lips find Keith’s again. He wraps his arm around Keith’s waist as Keith shudders, then relaxes, the kiss slow, soft, and perfect.
“Do you want to stay here for tonight?” he asks softly, when they break apart once more. It’s nothing new; both of them have stayed at the other’s on several occasions, but now Shiro might be able to actually hold Keith close without feeling that terrible heartache of knowing it was something he would never truly have.
Keith kicks off his shoes and scooches back on the bed, completely at home. “Why do you think I came this late?”
“You’re a menace,” Shiro informs him, but he also wriggles back, gathering the blanket so that he can wrap it around the two of them, happy with Keith’s warmth next to him.
“Well, also ‘cause the picture wasn’t working with me, and I wanted it to be…perfect.”
“You’re perfect,” Shiro says, kissing him again, because he doesn’t know how to respond otherwise.
“Shut up,” Keith mutters, holding Shiro tighter. But then Keith sits up and hops out of bed, and okay, Shiro’s not too happy about that. “Hold up. Pants too tight for sleep.”
I know, Shiro thinks, but he doesn’t say it. They look great on you. “Keith,” Shiro whines instead, burying himself further into the blankets. “Come back. It’s cold.”
“I’m coming back, just hold on!” He wriggles out of his pants, folding them up and placing them on Shiro’s chair, before crawling back under the covers.
Shiro latches onto him immediately, shivering. “Cold,” he mutters, but then warm legs wrap around his, and suddenly everything is a million times better.
“You’re the worst,” Keith grumbles and…
Shiro’s happy.
He’s happy that this changes so little. He can still keep all of what already was—the fun, the teasing, the stress, the laughter. He can still keep all of that, except now he can keep building; they can grow, and they can explore. He’s allowed to learn how to love even more of Keith, learn to love him in even more ways.
“I’m glad you asked me,” he says softly, the blanket partly muffling his words. “I’m glad you came over. I’ve wanted you for so long but never had the courage to ask.”
“It’s okay,” Keith says, quiet, his hair brushing against Shiro’s neck. “It was pretty scary. You’re…”
Now Keith’s shy, which means that whatever he’s about to say is important. If Keith doesn’t feel like saying something, he usually won’t say it. For him to be nervous—eyes deliberately avoiding Shiro’s, fingers fidgeting with the covers—and still say whatever it is that he has to say, that means that Shiro should listen.
“You’re the most important person in my life, ‘Kashi.”
The thought makes Shiro’s heart bloom, and he squeezes his arms tight around his boyfriend (boyfriend).
“Thank you,” he whispers. How incredibly lucky can a man get to have that in his life? “I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything.” But, he promises himself, he’s going to take Keith out on the most romantic date tomorrow. A late Valentine’s gift for a man who never thought he had a chance. Keith deserves the world, but Shiro studies galaxies and universes, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try his utmost to give Keith all of those as well.
Yet all Keith does is chuckle lightly, oblivious to the miracle that he is, and bury his face deeper into Shiro’s chest as he traces random patterns. “No need,” he says, all softness and sweet affection. “I’ve got everything I want now.”
Shiro smiles in the dark, and shifts so he can press his lips to Keith’s forehead. “I love you,” he whispers, because he can now.
“I love you, too, Takashi.”
Shiro closes his eyes. Keith’s shoulder is beneath his palm, his warmth pressed up against Shiro’s side, and there is love enough in Shiro's heart to last a lifetime.