Chapter Text
In all of Keith’s young life, he’s never felt heartbreak before, so he’s not ready for it when Shiro announces that he thinks he has a boyfriend.
Shiro is thirteen, and Keith is eleven, and the only reason they’re in the same grade is because Keith skipped a grade and Shiro had to repeat the first grade because he was out sick for too long and they wouldn’t let him move forward.
Shiro is thirteen, and his new boyfriend, Adam, is fourteen, and Keith thinks his world might just fall apart when Shiro starts holding Adam’s hand walking between classes while Keith wraps his arms around the textbook that’s too big to fit inside his backpack with all the others.
For a long time, it had just been Keith-and-Shiro. Shiro was the sickly kid that everyone was a little nervous to be around, and no one’s parents ever made them hang out with him. Keith was too young, and too smart, and too weird for anyone to bother even trying, and their parents always looked at him sideways when he showed up at school with scraped knees and scraped palms and dirt on his cheek from playing in the backyard before school; it didn’t matter that he was a pretty happy kid — he had two parents (still does), a big dog, and Shiro to make sure he stayed that way — the other kids never liked him. But Shiro always treated him like he was worth his weight in gold.
Now, it’s Shiro-and-Adam, and sometimes Keith. They still have to sit with their own class at lunch time, so Keith gets Shiro to himself for thirty minutes a day, but after school Shiro goes off to hold hands with Adam behind one of the pillars where the Parent Pick-Up volunteer of the day won’t see them.
He says Keith is welcome to join, but Keith doesn’t like the sick feeling he gets when he has to listen to them talk all quietly to each other.
It’s okay for now— Keith is eleven, and even though he knows he likes Shiro, he doesn’t really get relationships. It seems weird to hang around with someone all day, and then go home and spend all night on the phone with them, just to wake up the next day and do it all again.
He tells his mom as much when she asks him what’s wrong the first day Shiro tells him about Adam, and he tells his dad the same when he asks the same question a month later and Shiro and Adam are still going strong.
They both tell him the same thing: It’s just young love. They don’t know what they want yet. It’s sweet that they make each other happy, but it won’t last forever. They have so many years ahead of them to grow into who they are, and most people don’t grow up the same way, no matter how much they want to.
It comforts Keith very little. If Shiro and Adam can grow apart, then surely so can Shiro and Keith. He doesn’t tell his parents that, though, because he loves them and he knows they’re trying to help.
Still, as the years go by, he can’t help but wonder what else his parents have been wrong about.
____________________
Heartbreak is a bitter, crushing thing. It cracks through his chest, down his arms and legs to the tips of his fingers and toes, when Shiro admits that he wants to spend his life with Adam.
They’ve been together for more than four years now. Adam is going to graduate soon, and though Shiro still has two more years of high school, they’re talking about how they’re going to make it work. Shiro will visit Adam at the prestigious college he got into at least once a month. He’d go every weekend, but it’s four hours away and his parents won’t let him spend that much time in the car since he’s only had his license for just over a year.
Keith’s gotten very used to their relationship. Sometimes they bicker over dumb stuff, and Keith can’t help but roll his eyes and think, I’d never get mad at you over something like that. Sometimes, though, they spend all morning kissing in the hallway next to the band room, where teachers don’t usually look, and Keith just doodles in his sketchbook and tries not to listen. When the bell rings, he mumbles a quick goodbye and gets a text from Shiro later that just says, Where’d you run off to so fast?
Those days he can’t help but wonder why he’s never bothered to make new friends. He loves Shiro — he’s fifteen and he now knows exactly what kind of love he feels — but sometimes he wonders what it would be like not to be hopelessly in love with his best friend, who is hopelessly in love with his boyfriend.
The night of Adam’s graduation, Shiro and Keith are both invited to a party. Keith has been a pretty good kid for most of his life. Aside from a quick temper and a distaste for authority that his parents have no idea where he got it from, honestly, he hasn’t had any major problems. He does well in school, never had the urge to try drugs, and only drank that one time at Shiro’s house when his parents were out of town and they were curious. They had gotten just drunk enough to feel giggly and play several uncoordinated rounds of Super Smash Bros before passing out on a pile of pillows in the basement game room.
Keith agrees to go, because it’s important to Shiro. Although he hasn’t really been to any real parties (only the birthday parties that the cool parents let kids have in their backyards), he’s not particularly averse to the idea of going, either.
Adam picks them both up from Shiro’s house. Shiro’s parents and Keith’s parents know they’re going, and they know there will be alcohol, but all three of them have promised not to drink (or at the very least, to drink responsibly and call if they need a ride or anyone gets into trouble).
An hour and a half into the party, Keith has only had half a cup of lukewarm beer that he eventually abandoned for a full cup of Sprite, and Shiro and Adam are nowhere to be found.
It’s James Griffin that finds him standing on the wall by himself.
“Keith.”
“Griffin.”
Griffin slumps against the wall beside him, quiet for a few moment as he drinks whatever concoction is in his cup.
“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” he says finally.
Keith scoffs. “Thinking about me, Griffin?”
Griffin scowls, petulant, and shrugs as if trying to make the words roll off his shoulders. “No,” he says, again, petulant. “Just didn’t take you for the partying type.”
It’s Keith’s turn to shrug. “I’m not.” At James’ upturned eyebrow, he rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his Sprite. “Shiro asked me to come.”
James huffs a short laugh that, to Keith, sounds completely humorless. He drops his eyes but makes no other move. “Figures,” he mutters.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Keith demands. People always do this. They act like they know Keith, and they don’t.
Griffin rolls his eyes right back. “Nothing. Forget it.”
Keith won’t forget it. “He’s my best friend.” He doesn’t know why he feels the need to defend himself— doesn’t even know what he’s defending himself against.
“I know,” Griffin says innocently. It doesn’t sit well with Keith.
“So if you know, then okay. We’re friends, he asked me to come, I’m here. End of story.”
“And where’s he?” Griffin asks, eyes boring into Keith as he makes the sort of eye contact they’ve never had before. It feels charged, uncomfortable, like he knows something and Keith isn’t in on it.
“Around,” Keith snarks. He’s had enough of this. “See ya.” He walks off without another word.
He’s not even sure where he’s going. Everyone is inside somewhere; Keith knows because he’d looked for Shiro everywhere else, including the front and back yards, before taking his place against the wall. Going outside to sit by himself seems pretty lame and pretty counter to the point of being at a party, but if he stays inside, he risks Griffin finding him and making more rude insinuations.
There’s a stone bench in the front yard. Pretty much everyone who’s coming to the party has arrived by now, so the only people he really sees are the ones stumbling out ready to leave, and none of them are interested in conversation with some kid they most likely don’t even know.
It takes another half hour before Shiro finds him. His face is pink and his hair is ruffled in a way it typically isn’t — Shiro likes to be neat and tidy. It’s why he keeps it cut so short. He looks happy, which is nice. Keith can’t help but smile when he sees Shiro beaming like that. It makes him consider forgiving him instantly for ditching him.
“Hey,” he breathes when he plops onto the bench beside Keith. “I was looking for you.”
Keith shrugs, still smiling helplessly at his best friend. He’d been tense before, but now he feels okay. “You found me.”
“Yeah,” Shiro says. “Sorry for disappearing on you. I didn’t plan it, I swear, it’s just, uh...” He trails off, shy and uncertain. Keith has only seen this expression on his face maybe twice before. He can practically feel his stomach acid churning as he begins to connect the dots.
He swallows hard. Shiro wants to tell him something. Keith has to let him. “What?” he croaks, and hopes it doesn’t sound as panicked as he feels.
“Well, um. Just, you know Adam graduated today.”
Obviously. It’s why they’re here. Keith lifts an eyebrow at him, an indication to go on.
“Right, of course. And he got into one of the best Ivy League schools in the country. It’s pretty amazing. He’s gonna be pretty far away, but I’m really proud of him.”
This isn’t exactly what Keith expected. So, what? They had disappeared to talk about Adam’s plans? That makes sense, he guesses, though he’s not sure why Shiro is so happy about it.
“Shiro,” Keith insists.
“Right. Okay. Um. It’s just...” Shiro looks up at him then, his big eyes earnest and shining, and god, he looks so happy, Keith’s heart twists in pleasure and pain. “We had sex.”
Shiro can read him. That’s Keith’s first thought when he hears those words out of Shiro’s mouth. Shiro can read him, so he can’t give away the wrenching heartbreak he feels. It’s not fair. Shiro isn’t his — never has been, never will be — and he has no right to feel so torn apart by the idea of him and Adam having sex. They’ve been together forever, and Keith has witnessed from the very beginning how head-over-heels in love they are. Especially Shiro. He loves so hard, and it’s so obvious. So he makes a conscious effort to soften his eyes and his brow. He forces himself to smile as genuinely as he can, reaches over to squeeze Shiro’s hand.
“I’m so happy for you,” he says. The lie tastes like bile.
“Thanks, Keith.” Shiro squeezes back. “I’m happy for me, too. And thanks, you know, for being here for me all the time. I know I haven’t always been the best friend to you.”
It’s not a lie and he doesn’t have to pretend at all this time when he says, “You have always been the best friend to me. You’re the best person, Shiro. You deserve all the happiness in the world.”
And that much is true. Keith would tear himself apart a thousand times for Shiro’s happiness. What Keith feels doesn’t matter as long as he can always see that giddy smile on Shiro’s beautiful face.
“Thanks, Keith,” Shiro whispers again, more quietly this time as he pulls Keith in for a tight hug. “You too. You deserve so much happiness.”
Keith can’t answer around the lump in his throat, too concentrated on not thinking about how his happiness is right here in his arms, but he can never have it.
“Alright. Let’s head back inside, yeah?” Shiro stands and offers a hand to Keith, which Keith takes and allows himself to be hauled up. “Need a drink?”
“Yeah,” Keith answers automatically. Yeah, he needs a fucking drink if he’s gonna make it through this.
Adam is inside the door waiting for Shiro. He looks happy, too, as he winds his fingers between Shiro’s and kisses him right on the mouth. “Everything okay?” he asks. His eyes meet Keith’s briefly, and Keith feels like he’s being searched, though maybe he’s just being paranoid. Adam can’t read him like Shiro can.
“Everything is amazing,” Shiro coos. Keith nods, fixing the smile on his face once more.
“Just heading inside for a drink,” he mumbles. Adam looks at him for a moment longer and then smiles back.
“Alright then. Let’s celebrate!”
And celebrate, Keith does. He celebrates first with a cup of the jungle juice he’d seen Griffin sipping, and then he celebrates with a rum and Coke that Adam puts into his hand, and then he celebrates with another jungle juice, just for the hell of it.
“Hey, slow down,” someone says, god-knows how long later.
“I’m fine,” Keith says. He doesn’t think he’s slurring, so he’s definitely good. For sure.
“Keith,” the voice says again. Keith recognizes it as Griffin. Again.
“Ugh, what do you want, Griffin?” he groans.
“Come on, let’s sit down.”
Griffin takes him by the arm. Keith yanks it back, sloshing the nearly-full cup of battery acid. Some of it gets on his good shirt, but he doesn’t care.
“Keith.”
Keith does not feel like being scolded by fucking James Griffin.
“Griffin,” he growls.
They’re at a standoff. Keith isn’t planning on giving in to whatever Griffin wants him to do, and Griffin obviously isn’t planning on shutting the fuck up and leaving Keith the fuck alone.
He could stand there all night refusing to cooperate. He’s very stubborn. He would, too, if he hadn’t made the fatal mistake of looking over Griffin’s shoulder to see Shiro lip-locked with Adam and pressing him against the wall.
Maybe he loses control of his face or something, because Griffin turns to see what Keith is seeing. It’s too late for Keith to pretend he was looking at anything else, so he just sets his gaze back on Griffin and dares him with his eyes to say something about it.
“Okay,” Griffin says, more calmly now as his shoulders slump and he loses his fierce demeanor. “I feel like taking a walk. Will you come with me?”
Keith tries to scoff, but it comes out a little choked. “Why should I?”
“I could use the company,” James says. “It’s dark out. Don’t wanna get lost or whatever.”
It’s a flimsy excuse, and Keith knows it, but he’s aware enough to appreciate the gesture. Even if Griffin is still a huge tool.
He takes one last look at Shiro and Adam and shrugs. “Fine,” he mutters. “Let’s go.” He deposits his drink on a random surface and leaves it. He doesn’t even like it.
On their way out the front door, Shiro catches his hand from behind. “Where are you going?” he asks. He doesn’t demand — never — just cares.
“Just taking a walk,” Keith says, probably too chipper as he puts up a front. “I’ll be back.”
Shiro’s brows furrow. “Alone?”
“I’m going, too,” Griffin pipes up from the other side of the doorway. “We won’t be gone long. Just need some fresh air.”
Shiro looks between the two of them. Keith knows it doesn’t make any sense to him; Keith and James Griffin have never gotten along, and now they’re going off to hang out one-on-one?
“It’s fine, Shiro. Just feeling a little woozy. I’ll be fine.”
Shiro looks like he’s about to reach out or say something, but he stops himself short and instead implores, “Be careful, okay? Find me when you come back. Or I can come with you,” he hastily adds.
“Nah, it’s fine. Enjoy the party. Celebrate Adam’s big day with him. I’ll be back soon.”
Finally, Shiro seems to relax, and his face softens again. “Alright. See you soon.”
“See you soon,” Keith echoes.
When they’re outside, Griffin makes a show of rolling his eyes at the display. “You two are gross,” he says.
“We’re friends,” Keith says for the millionth time.
“Whatever,” Griffin says.
“Fucking drop it, Griffin. We’re nothing, got it? So shut the fuck up.”
Griffin drops it. After a tense silence, he says, “Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Whatever,” Keith mumbles.
They continue to walk in silence. The conversation has left Keith raw. He’d tried to outrun it, make himself forget it, but even if he’s a lightweight, two and a half drinks isn’t enough to forget anything.
“Can I ask you something?” Griffin asks.
“Sure,” Keith shrugs. “As long as it’s not about Shiro.”
“It’s not,” Griffin assures. Keith shrugs again. “Just, um. Are you gay?”
Keith’s head whips up from where he’d been staring at his shoes as he kicks a rock down the street. He glares. “Why? Wanna bully me for that, too?”
“What? No!” James throws his hands up in front of him in a defensive gesture. “No, I— wait, you think I bully you?”
Keith stops short. He feels his mouth drop open. The nerve of this guy. “You think you don’t?”
Griffin’s face falls, as if he’s legitimately shocked and hurt by the idea that he could ever be a bully.
“Are you fucking kidding me, Griffin? You’ve been torturing me since the fourth grade.”
“What?” Griffin has stopped too. They’re both stopped, in the middle of the road, sometime past midnight probably, staring at each other like a couple of morons.
“You used to tell the teacher I needed special attention because my parents didn’t love me.”
“I— I said that?”
“Yeah, asshole. And when we were in middle school, you told Lotor Sincline that I had a boner in class, and Lance McLain overheard and told the whole grade.”
Griffin looks suitably guilty and abashed. “Well... did you?” he has the nerve to ask.
Keith barks out a startled laugh. “No, jerk. I had a dry erase marker in my pocket.” He starts walking again, tired of standing in one place. He shoves his hands in his pockets, the picture of nonchalance. “Besides, that was the same day Shiro started dating Adam. So no. I didn’t.”
“Fuck,” Griffin sighs and follows. “I’m really sorry, Keith. I didn’t realize I was such a jerk.”
“Yeah. Maybe you can apologize to my parents one day, too. Nobody wanted to be my friend anyway, but especially after their parents heard I apparently had a bad home life and told them they couldn’t.”
“I will,” Griffin says with conviction. Keith looks up at him.
“What?”
“I’ll apologize to your parents, if you’ll let me. That was a really shitty thing to do. Even if I was just a dumb kid, I’m really sorry. That must have been hard for all of you.”
Keith pauses. “Yeah,” he relents. “It was. They wondered for a long time if they were bad parents. Especially my mom.”
“I’ll come over tomorrow and apologize face-to-face,” Griffin states. At Keith’s expression of disbelief, he adds, “If that’s okay with you. I don’t actually know where you live, so I’d need your address...”
Keith chuckles under his breath. “Yeah, sure.” He has no faith that Griffin will do any such thing, but he’ll humor him for now. “I’ll text it to you. Put in your number.” He hands his phone over and lets Griffin open a new message to himself. Keith sends his address to the unsaved number and hopes he won’t regret it someday when Griffin decides to start being a prick again.
“I’m coming over,” he insists. “I know you don’t believe me, but I’ll be there, bright and early tomorrow morning.”
“Don’t wake me up, Griffin. I’m planning on sleeping until one.”
“One? In the afternoon?!”
“God, you’re such a dweeb,” Keith laughs. This time it feels genuine. “Live a little. Sleep past seven-thirty. It’ll be good for you.”
Griffin rolls his eyes but smirks back. “Fine. I’ll be there at nine.”
They turn around not long after and start heading back to the house. Turns out, the walk really did Keith some good. He’s a little more sober, and though still heartbroken, doesn’t feel like he wants to rip his heart out of his chest.
“So you never answered my question,” Griffin prompts.
“What question?”
“You know. About, um. Are— are you...?”
“Oh,” Keith says as he catches on. He feels himself tense, but tries to put on his best air of nonchalance. “You should know. You’re the one who’s been making rude and inappropriate innuendo about me and my best friend all night.”
Keith slides Griffin a look out of the corner of his eye. Griffin at least has the decency to flush at the accusation. “I’m sorry, again, it’s just—”
Keith waits. They may have reached some kind of weird truce tonight, but he’s not gonna let Griffin get away with anything that easily.
“It’s just that— ugh, are you seriously gonna make me spell it out for you?!”
“Yep.” Keith stops and crosses his arms. He gestures to the house, which is in sight. They can hear the faint thump of the bass from here. “If you’ve got something to say, spit it out now.”
Griffin runs frustrated fingers through his hair. He’s so much twitchier than Keith’s ever seen him. Normally he’s the picture of poise and confidence— it’s always pissed Keith off how it looks like nothing ever bothers him.
Now, the way he paces and ruffles his own hair and smoothes it back down again, he seems so much more human.
“Ugghhhh,” Griffin groans. “Can’t you just— can’t you just figure it out for yourself?”
Keith could, probably, but he takes a twisted kind of pleasure in watching Griffin squirm like this. “Nuh uh,” he says. “You know me. Anti-social Keith. I don’t understand anything. You’re gonna have to tell me.”
Griffin gapes at him like he can’t believe his ears. “You’re such a dick,” he breathes.
Keith laughs. “Come on, we don’t have all night. Say it if you’re gonna say it.”
Griffin pauses for a minute, expression searching. “I’ve never heard you laugh this much,” he says.
“Maybe I’m just drunk,” Keith retorts.
“Maybe. It’s still nice, though.”
Keith looks at him, then. The way Griffin is looking at him, now... he thinks he might know what’s coming next. He’s intrigued, but also terrified.
“Why?” Keith asks. He hears the way his own voice has gone soft. He takes an unconscious step forward.
“Because,” Griffin says, mirroring the movement. “You have a nice laugh. And a nice smile.”
“Oh. Thanks.” He feels the blush creep up his face. He can’t remember the last time someone made him blush. Maybe never.
“I guess I’m just trying to say... I’m sorry I’ve been such a jerk, and if you’ll forgive me, I hope we can be friends. And also you’re really hot.”
All Keith can do is blink. His mind has gone fuzzy; message does not compute. “You think I’m hot?”
Griffin just nods.
“Oh, okay. That’s cool.”
They stand there, just blinking at each other for a while, the relative silence only broken when the front door of the house slams open and three extremely drunk girls stumble out to a raucous chorus of some pop song that’s at least ten years old.
“‘That’s cool?’” Griffin asks. “Is that it?”
Keith’s heart is pounding. He’s not sure what to do here; it’s completely uncharted territory. No one has ever been attracted to him before— at least, not that he knows of.
“So what, you like, like like me or something?” he blurts.
“I mean—” James shifts awkwardly from one foot to another. “I don’t know if I’d go that far. You’re still kind of a dick.”
“Likewise,” Keith interjects.
“But, I mean, there aren’t that many gay guys at our school— at least, not that many that are out, or whatever.”
There’s a pause in which Keith digests this. Briefly, he wonders how long they’ve been gone and how the hell they got to this point.
“So you wanna date me because it’s convenient?”
“What— no! I don’t want to date you! Wait, shit, that sounded bad. I don’t not want to date you. I just mean like, I’m not asking you out or anything. I’m just saying, you know, if you ever want to, like, blow off some steam or whatever...”
Keith lets the offer sink in. He’s never thought about having anything with anyone other than Shiro before. But Shiro... Shiro is in love with his boyfriend of four years. Shiro and his boyfriend just had sex at a house party, and while Keith had known this day was coming for a long time, he hadn’t expected to be there, and they’re going to stay together while Adam goes to college, they’ll probably get married, and Shiro has never looked at Keith the way Griffin is looking at him now, never, and—
“Oh, what the hell,” he mumbles, and closes the distance between them.
Griffin makes a noise of surprise but catches on quickly. The kiss is messy and inexperienced. Keith has certainly never done this before, and he wonders if maybe Griffin hasn’t, either. In the back of his mind, he finds himself thinking, This is my first kiss. I’m having my first kiss with James Griffin. And it hurts a little, because it’s only then that he realizes some tiny, naive part of him had hoped he’d get to have his first kiss with Shiro, somehow, after all.
“Should we go somewhere more private?” James asks when they pull away panting. Keith wipes his mouth, now wet with Griffin’s spit.
“I’m not gonna fuck you, Griffin,” he spits.
“No!” he backpedals. “I just meant, like, not the middle of the street.”
Keith barely spares it another thought. Being wanted feels good, really good, and he’s going to chase this feeling for as long as he can. He shrugs. “Sure.”
They finally make it back to the house, but they don’t go inside. Instead, they head to the backyard, which has been empty all night. There, Griffin backs him up against the side of the house and leans in for another kiss.
It starts off slowly this time. Keith can feel his heartbeat between his breaths, can feel Griffin pant against his lips as they come together and pull apart, again and again and again. When Griffin’s tongue slides back inside his mouth, he feels his own breath stutter around a quiet noise he’s never heard himself make before. He feels himself relax the longer it goes on; they’re feeding off of each other, learning how this is supposed to go together, and he lets himself grab Griffin by the waist and pull him closer, until he’s completely pressed against the rough brick behind him.
At some point, Griffin’s hand snakes its way under the hem of his shirt, where his fingers rub absently against Keith’s skin. It makes Keith shiver.
He’s fifteen and finally knows what this feels like.
They kiss for what feels like a long time. By the time they slow down, and eventually stop, Keith feels lightheaded — whether it’s from the feeling of being kissed or just a lack of oxygen, he doesn’t know.
Griffin still stands in front of him, his hand still up Keith’s shirt, and doesn’t say anything for a long time.
Finally, he asks, “Was that okay?”
Keith nods, finding it hard to think or speak or breathe. “Good,” he says, because it’s all he can manage.
“Okay. Cool,” Griffin says. He takes a step back, then leans forward one more time and kisses Keith again. “Last one,” he says, then backs away completely.
Keith makes his way to the back door on shaky legs. He pauses to steady himself, then turns, still not able to let Griffin get away with anything, and says, “Don’t show up before noon.”
Griffin grins, and Keith realizes that he has a really nice smile, too.
Inside the house, the party has definitely wound down. Shiro is sitting on the couch next to Adam, nursing what looks like just a cup of water. The music is mellower; there are a few people clinging to each other on the makeshift dance floor, not dancing so much as lazily swaying, and one guy is passed out on a big squishy lounge chair in the corner.
“Keith!” Shiro calls as soon as he sees him. “I was getting worried. Are you okay?”
All at once, the night he’s just had washes over him. He feels different, like he’s changed, somehow, and he wonders if Shiro feels that way now, too.
“I’m fine,” Keith says. He’s not sure if he is, but it’s the best answer he’s got. “Ready to go?”
Shiro nods and gestures to Adam.
“Is he okay to drive?” Keith asks.
“I stopped drinking a few hours ago,” Adam answers. “Stone cold sober.”
And Keith trusts him, because for all of the things Adam is, irresponsible isn’t one of them.
“Alright. I’m ready.”
“Let’s go, then.”
They ride together in silence back to Shiro’s house. The plan was always for Keith to stay the night there after the party, so his parents don’t expect him home and have locked up and gone to sleep hours ago.
That was the plan when they left what feels like a lifetime ago, but that was before Shiro and Adam were having sex.
Usually, they’d all take the floor when the three of them spent the night together, and Keith very rarely felt left out or like he was intruding on their private time together. This time, though, Shiro and Adam exchange a loaded look before silently climbing into the bed together, snuggled close.
When he hears their breathing even out, Keith excuses himself to the couch in the family room. He’ll call his mom when he wakes up to come get him, so as not to bother them.
In the morning, when he and his mom pull up to their home just after 10:45, James Griffin is standing on the porch waiting for them.
____________________
Keith learns true fear the day Shiro gets into an accident. It is acute and visceral, intense in a way that makes him feel like he’s collapsing in on himself, like a dying star.
It happens while Shiro is driving to see Adam one weekend. Adam has been away for eight months, and Shiro has been diligent about making it up to see him once a month, as promised. He’s offered to bring Keith with him, but Keith doesn’t see a world in which he wants to put himself through that. He may be in love with Shiro, but he’s not willing to watch him sleep with his boyfriend. He has enough self-preservation for that, at least, if nothing else.
Keith gets a call three hours after Shiro is supposed to have arrived at Adam’s. He’s been trying not to worry; sometimes Shiro just forgets to text for a little while because he’s so excited to see his boyfriend after a month without him. It’s fine... Three hours is a little long, though.
So it’s three hours without a text when Keith gets a phone call from his mother.
“You need to go to the hospital.”
“What? What’s going on?” Keith’s heart starts beating in triple-time. “Is it Dad? Was he hurt at work?”
“No, God, no. Keith, listen to me. You need to stay calm. In fact— stay where you are. I’m coming to get you.”
He hears the sound of jangling keys, and the front door, then the car door, opening and closing.
“I’m— Mom, what is it? What’s going on?”
Beside him, Griffin puts down his controller and gets Keith’s attention by putting his hand on his leg. “Everything okay?”
“I’m on my way. Do not go anywhere, do you hear me? Keith?”
“Tell me what’s happening!”
His mom takes a deep breath. The clicking of the blinker fills the silence. “It’s Shiro,” she says.
Keith thinks he might black out.
“Keith?” It’s Griffin speaking again. “Hey, are you okay?”
Somehow, his phone has landed on his lap. His mother’s voice is distant as he hears her call for Griffin. Griffin picks up the phone.
“Hello? Mrs. Kogane?”
Keith doesn’t hear anymore of his mom’s side of the conversation, just Griffin saying, “Oh, no. Okay. Yes, no problem. Okay, bye.”
Griffin hangs up the phone after that and puts it in Keith’s hand.
“I don’t know if I’m the right person to tell you, but I think you should know before you get there. Your mom said Shiro was in an accident. He was driving and the car ran off the road and flipped. He’s in the hospital, and he’s stable, but they’re not sure what happened yet. She’s bringing you to see him.”
Keith looks up to see Griffin staring at him.
“What?” he asks.
“Did you hear what I said?”
The words register slowly. Keith nods. Griffin fidgets with his fingers for a few moments while they wait for Keith’s mom to arrive. When they hear her car pull up, Keith rises to go meet her at the door.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Griffin asks.
Keith shakes his head. “I’m fine.”
Griffin opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again, then finally settles on, “Text me, if you want.”
Keith just nods and joins his mom for the thirty minute drive to the nearest hospital, where Shiro was taken in an ambulance hours before.
“What happened?” he asks.
She keeps her eyes on the road. The radio isn’t playing. It’s creepy. “I’m not sure,” she answers. “I don’t have much information, but they told me he’s okay and that you’ll be able to see him.”
Keith nods. Those are the two most important things.
They have to park in visitor parking and walk all the way around the hospital to get to Shiro’s wing. It’s the longest walk of Keith’s life. His mind hasn’t been much more than a constant buzzing noise since he picked up the phone. He barely remembers what Griffin said to him before he left.
Shiro’s dad is in the waiting room when they walk in. His mom must be with Shiro, which gives Keith some relief.
“Keith,” Mr. Shirogane says. “Krolia. Thank you for coming. Takashi will be happy to see you.” The last part is directed at Keith.
Keith tries to smile, but it feels like an ugly grimace.
“He’s okay, Keith.”
Krolia puts her arm around Keith’s shoulder and pulls him close. It chokes him up a little, but he holds it in; it’s stupid to cry when he’s already been told repeatedly that everything is fine.
“So, what happened?” she asks.
“Let’s go see Takashi,” Mr. Shirogane says. “I’ll tell you on the way.” He smiles reassuringly at Keith and claps him on the shoulder, then leads the way to Shiro’s room.
Although Keith doesn’t quite get everything that Mr. Shirogane says, he gets the important bits. Apparently, Shiro had a severe muscle spasm while he was driving and wasn’t able to get it under control before the car ran off the road. It’s a complication of his disease, which hasn’t affected him too much until now, except for the time he missed in elementary school. It’s with horrible, urgent clarity that Keith finally realizes how lucky they all are that Shiro is still here.
“Keith?”
Shiro’s voice brings him back to the present — the beautiful, amazing present, where Shiro is sitting up and looking at him from his hospital bed with a silly little gown on and only some bruises and scratches to show for all of this.
“Oh, Keith, hey, it’s okay! I’m okay.” He’s laughing a little through his concern, and Keith is moving toward him and sobbing into his shoulder before he even realizes he’s been crying. “I’m okay,” Shiro says, rubbing circles into Keith’s back. “Everything is okay.”
“Don’t ever do that again,” Keith demands. He levels him with his best glare, which, judging by the sappy look Shiro is giving him, is not very effective.
“I won’t,” he vows. His left hand comes up to smooth Keith’s soggy bangs out of his eyes. “I promise I won’t scare you again.”
Keith sniffs. “Good.”
They lapse into silence while Keith finishes getting himself back together. At some point, the parents must have snuck out.
There’s a big, fat, giant elephant in the room, and Keith isn’t sure how to approach it. It’s several elephants, actually, and one of them is that Shiro has barely moved his right arm since Keith showed up.
Shiro can read him, though, as he has always been able to do, and dives right in.
“My right arm is the one that spasmed. It got caught in the steering wheel and I couldn’t get the car back on the road. It still hurts a bit. But the good news is that they’re fitting me for these really cool bracelets that’ll help with muscle stimulation.”
“So what does that mean?” Keith asks.
“Well,” Shiro shifts, making better space for Keith to sit comfortably on the bed instead of basically in Shiro’s lap. “I’m not allowed to drive again until I get the bracelets. Then I’ll have to go through some testing to make sure they work, and then I’ll have a trial period where I can’t drive until we’re sure the bracelets are doing their jobs.”
“But you’re gonna be okay?”
“I am okay,” Shiro corrects. “Everything is fine. It’s the natural progression of the disease. The doctors are well-equipped to take care of me. We’re not going to have to worry about this for a long time. It’ll just take some getting used to.”
Keith stares at Shiro, utterly amazed by his best friend. “How can you be so calm about all of this?”
Shiro shrugs. “I’ve been told for most of my life what to expect as I get older. At a certain point, I have to stop being angry and just accept what’s happening. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop doing the things I want to do. I can’t let something I can’t control control me instead.”
“You’ve never been angry,” Keith says.
“I have.” Shiro lifts his right arm and makes a show of flexing his fingers. It’s slow, and he grimaces a little as he stretches the muscles, but he does it. “I’ve been angry for years. I was angry as a kid, before we met, for a lot of reasons, but mostly because I never understood why other kids didn’t want to know me. You changed that.” His smile melts the ice that formed around Keith’s heart an hour or two ago. “And I was angry when I realized I liked boys, because I figured I was already enough of a freak; I didn’t need to make it even worse by limiting my dating options to gay men who were willing to date cripples.”
“You are not a cripple,” Keith tells him with all the conviction he has.
Shiro smiles at him, soothing his very frayed nerves.
“I know. But when I was twelve, I wasn’t quite so wise.” He winks, which is devastating, and Keith can’t help but laugh. Shiro sobers quickly, and adds, “Adam changed that.” Keith has to force himself not to frown. “I don’t know what will happen with us,” Shiro says, “but he’s given me the confidence to know that there are guys out there who are willing to give someone like me a chance.”
And, well, Keith has to thank Adam for that, at least.
“You’re perfect, Shiro. Anyone who can’t see that isn’t worth the ground you walk on. If someone wouldn’t give you a chance because of something like this, I’d fight them.”
It’s Shiro’s turn to laugh. “Thanks, Keith. You always know what to say.”
“It’s true,” Keith insists. “I’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear it. You’re perfect.”
Shiro’s smile turns soft as he gazes at Keith. It makes Keith’s stomach do somersaults. “What did I do to deserve a best friend like you?”
Keith ducks his head to avoid looking into Shiro’s earnest eyes for another second. “You never had to do anything.”
The door clicks open, and Shiro’s parents and Krolia re-enter the room.
“We thought you two could use some privacy,” Mrs. Shirogane explains. “Takashi, honey, how are you feeling?”
“I’m okay,” he answers. “Feeling better all the time.”
“How’s your arm?” his father asks. “Still stiff?”
“Better,” Shiro says. He shows them how he’s able to flex it now.
Keith can’t help the pride that shows through on his face. He knows it does, because his mother is looking at him with an expression he can’t remember seeing before. She looks confused, or maybe like she’s just figured something out, and Keith suddenly feels much more transparent than he would like. He’s suddenly acutely aware of how close he’s sitting to Shiro and stands to make room for the others to come closer.
Shiro shoots him a look, but his attention is quickly drawn away to answer the nurse who has just walked in to check on him.
“Everything okay?” Krolia asks lowly, so only Keith can hear. “You were upset when we left.”
“Everything is fine,” Keith says. “I just got freaked out thinking about— what could have been.” The last part comes out choked, strangled by his throat closing up around the thought of a world without Shiro.
Krolia hugs him close again and presses a kiss to the crown of his head. “It didn’t,” she soothes. “That’s not what happened. Shiro is okay. Everyone is okay. They’re going to help him manage this. You don’t need to worry anymore.”
“I’m always going to worry about Shiro.”
Krolia huffs. “That’s what your father and I are always saying about you.”
Keith shrugs. He’s not sure what to say to that.
The nurse leaves again, letting the room lapse into silence once more. Keith’s phone chimes in his pocket. He pulls it out and sees the now-familiar number flash onto his screen. He still hasn’t saved it, but he’s seen it enough times to have it memorized.
The message is short and simple: Everything ok?
Keith types back an equally brief: all good
He locks the screen and puts it back in his pocket. When he looks up, Shiro is staring at him. Keith cocks his head, asking Shiro without words if he’s okay, but Shiro shakes himself out of whatever he’s thinking and just smiles.
“When do you get to go home?” Keith asks.
Shiro sighs. “I have to stay overnight for observation, and I should be able to get some temporary bracelets tomorrow to use until I can get the ones I was fitted for. So sometime tomorrow, I guess.” He frowns. It’s obvious how hard he’s been trying to stay positive, but this experience can’t be easy; and on top of that, he’s not going to see Adam this weekend. Unless—
“Is Adam coming to see you? He knows what happened, right?”
“He knows,” Shiro nods. “He can’t come, though. He has some kind of big event for his fraternity that he can’t miss.” He tries to sound nonchalant, but Keith can hear how hurt and disappointed he is. It makes Keith want to punch Shiro’s boyfriend. Shiro is more important than some stupid frat party.
He can’t lose it over this in front of Shiro, though, or his mom, or Shiro’s parents, so he sucks it up and keeps his thoughts to himself.
“I’ll stay with you tonight,” he offers. “I can go grab some stuff from home and we can make it a whole thing! Yeah, I’ll get our GameBoys, and a DVD player— it’ll be like a sleepover.”
He’s excited about this idea, to spend the night with Shiro, just the two of them, and for the chance to give Shiro some much-needed cheering up. Shiro looks excited, too. He’s beaming, and he’s just about to say something when his mom shoots the idea down.
“I’m sorry, boys. The hospital won’t let Keith stay unless he’s a blood relative.” She smiles sadly but kindly at Keith. “I asked before you got here.”
“Oh.”
“Well, it looks like everything is fine here,” Krolia interjects. “How about if I head home and come pick you up when visiting hours are over?”
Keith nods. “Is that okay?” he asks Shiro.
“Yeah, of course!”
“Alright. See you in a few hours.” She hugs him tightly again and pats his hair down before taking her leave.
“We’re going to stay the night with you, Takashi,” Shiro’s mother says. “But for now, we need to pick up a few things. We’ll be back in a little while. Call if you need anything before we get back, and don’t forget to use the call button if you need anything at all. Keith, please keep an eye on him while we’re gone.”
“I will.”
“We’re trusting you with our boy,” Mr. Shirogane says. “Call if you need us.”
“Yes, sir.”
When they’re gone, Keith feels his whole body relax, and he allows himself to sit back down on Shiro’s bed. Shiro frees as much of the mattress for him as he can, and Keith situates himself so that they’re sitting side-by-side, arms squished up against each other in the too-small bed.
“Sooo,” Shiro says. “Who was that?”
Keith cocks an eyebrow. “Who?”
“On the phone. You got a text earlier and you looked, um, different.”
Both eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Different how?”
Shiro shrugs. “I dunno. I can’t even remember the last time I saw you text someone other than me or your parents. Or, well, I don’t usually see you text me, but you know what I mean.”
Shiro waits. Keith could probably get out of this by saying it was his dad checking in on Shiro. Shiro wouldn’t bat an eye, probably; the fact that Keith’s dad hasn’t texted or called yet means he’s doing something really important right now and hasn’t had a chance to check his messages, which Krolia has no doubt left him.
He could get out of this, but he doesn’t lie to Shiro. And... well, maybe he’s feeling a little left behind these days. Maybe he’s sort of wants to tell Shiro who he’s been talking to.
Mustering up his best feigned innocence, he says, “Oh, it was just Griffin.”
Shiro reels back. His face is the picture of shock. “James Griffin? The guy who tortures you?”
“He doesn’t torture me,” Keith argues. Something protective has been ignited in him, though he doesn’t know if he’s trying to protect Griffin or himself. “We’re graduating high school next year, Shiro. He’s not the same jerk he was when we were in sixth grade.”
“Okay,” Shiro says, still clearly confused. “Sorry, I guess. Didn’t realize you guys were so close.”
Immediately, Keith feels like he’s said something wrong. Or maybe he’s done something wrong. Griffin was never mean to Shiro like he was to Keith, but he didn’t go out of his way to include Shiro, either. Maybe Shiro is mad at him for being friends with Griffin now.
“We’re not,” Keith hastily says. “I mean, we’re... friends... I guess... but we’re not that close. Really.”
He feels himself fidgeting. He’s never been a very convincing liar.
“It’s okay if you are,” Shiro says carefully. “You deserve to have friends other than me. I was just surprised.”
Keith doesn’t say anything.
“Keith?” Shiro nudges him where their arms are still squished together. “Hey, sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. Really, it’s great that you guys are friends. I’m glad he’s not a jerk anymore, and that you guys have set aside your differences.” He forces his way into Keith’s line of sight and smiles up at him. “I’m proud of you.”
Now is probably the time to tell Shiro about the party, but it’s been almost a year since then, and the longer he waits, the longer it feels like he’s hiding it. He’s not ashamed of kissing Griffin — hell, he’s done it a few more times since then — but in weird way, it feels private. It feels like something he’s kept from Shiro for a reason, though he doesn’t know what that reason is.
Would Shiro still be proud of him if he knew?
“Thanks,” Keith says instead.
Shiro backs off and leans back against the bed. “So what did he want?”
“Just wanted to make sure you were okay,” Keith says without thinking.
There’s a strange pause in which Shiro just looks at him, then he asks, “How did Griffin know you were coming to see me in the hospital?”
Okay, this might be more difficult to explain.
“I was with him when my mom called.”
“...You were? You guys hang out?”
“Um. Yeah. I guess I forgot to mention that.” Keith feels a humiliated flush crawling up his neck and face. He’s kept something from Shiro, and now it’s coming out, and he’s really not even sure why he’s kept it from him to begin with.
“How long have you guys been hanging out?”
“Um, since, uh. Since that party last year.” Shiro will know which party he means.
There’s another long, uncomfortable beat of silence. Keith glances up at Shiro from where he’s been watching his own fingers twist and untwist on his lap.
“Shiro?”
Shiro looks stunned. “I... Why haven’t you said anything? It’s been like a year, Keith.”
“No! It hasn’t been a year!” Keith clutches Shiro’s gown and looks at him as imploringly as he can manage. “It hasn’t been that long, really. We just hang out sometimes when you’re out of town, that’s all. I wasn’t— I wasn’t hiding it from you. I just didn’t think it was important.”
“You don’t have to justify having other friends,” Shiro says like it’s obvious, though he still looks distressed, no matter how hard he’s trying to hide it. “I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell me. That’s— that’s weird, right? Have I done something to make you not trust me?”
Keith blanches. “No! God, no, of course not! No, I’m so sorry, Shiro. I should have told you. Of course I trust you. I just— I don’t know, I guess I felt weird about it? I didn’t know how you’d react, or how to bring it up, so I just... didn’t tell you. And then the longer I waited, the longer it felt like I was not telling you, which isn’t even true, but I thought it would be weird to just be like ‘Hey, Shiro, guess what? I’m friends with Griffin now and we spend the weekends together when you’re out of town because—’”
He cuts himself off. That was dangerously close to revealing something he has no interested in talking about with Shiro.
“Because why?” Shiro asks.
Keith shakes his head. He already has an explanation ready to go. “Because it’s the only time we both have free.”
Shiro looks like he doesn’t buy it, or maybe he’s going to argue that point, say something like, You can invite him to hang out with us, or We don’t have to spend every minute together if you want to spend time with your other friends, too, even though Keith doesn’t have other friends. He has Shiro and Griffin, and he only barely counts Griffin, still.
He doesn’t give Shiro the chance. “So I guess Adam is gonna have to come home now, huh?”
It’s not exactly the topic he wants to talk about, but it’s better than talking about Griffin.
“Oh, yeah, I guess. I don’t know. We haven’t really talked about it. Been kinda busy, you know.” He huffs a self-deprecating laugh.
Keith frowns. “He should. You’ve been going up to see him every time.”
“Not every time!” Shiro defends. “He came back in November and December.”
“For the holidays, not for you,” Keith says, and immediately regrets it when he sees the look on Shiro’s face. “I mean, of course I’m sure he was happy to see you! That wasn’t what I meant.”
“Right.”
“Wait no, I just meant it would be nice if you didn’t have to spend so much time in the car and he could come be the one to make the drive every once in a while.”
Shiro glares. “Why? Because I’m too sick to drive?”
“No!” Keith swallows hard. “I just think he should be putting as much effort into this relationship as you are.”
He’s hurt Shiro now, and he knows it, because Shiro very rarely is speechless, but now he seems to have nothing to say. Keith wishes he would yell at him or something, say that Keith is a bad friend, or accuse him of being jealous, or anything except sit there and look like Keith just kicked his imaginary cat.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that in a bad way, I swear. Shiro, I’m sorry.”
Shiro takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I know you don’t like Adam, but it’s been five years, Keith. You need to accept that he and I are staying together.”
Keith’s blood is roaring in his ears, and his face feels hot again. His fingers flex in his lap as he tries to maintain eye contact. It’s his turn to be hurt, and now he’s angry and upset with himself for feeling that way when Shiro’s just been in an accident. He’s overwhelmed and starting to burnt out on emotion. Shiro’s not-quite-accusation hits too close to the truth and comes too close to revealing Keith’s deepest, darkest desire.
“I know,” Keith whispers. He wants to say, I’m sorry. I like Adam, and I’m glad you found someone to love who loves you back. He wants to maybe say, I just want you to be happy, and it seems like you’ve been less happy since he left. He doesn’t want to say what’s currently swirling around in his brain, which is, I’d make that effort for you. You deserve better. You don’t get to be mad at me for wanting better for you when I’ve got nothing.
He thinks his hands might be shaking, so he clamps them as tightly together as possible. He feels raw.
Shiro sighs again, long and weary. “Sorry,” he mutters. “Struck a nerve.”
“It’s fine,” Keith mutters. “I won’t bring it up again.”
“Okay.”
The atmosphere in the room is too tense. It’s not what he’s used to with Shiro. They stay quiet for a while, still pressed closely together, which only makes it more awkward and makes Keith want to squirm all the more.
Shiro must eventually realize Keith’s discomfort, because once he’s calmed down, he reaches over and takes Keith’s hand.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” he says, genuine. “That wasn’t fair. I know you’re just saying those things because you care.”
“I do care,” Keith says. Because yeah, maybe he is jealous of Adam, but his priority is first and foremost Shiro’s happiness.
“I’ll talk to him,” Shiro promises. “Especially now that I probably won’t be able to drive long distances. For a while, anyway.”
“Yeah,” Keith agrees. He’s afraid to say much else.
“Keith?”
“Hm?”
“Thanks for coming. I don’t think I’ve said that yet.”
Keith squeezes Shiro’s hand. “You don’t have to. I’ll always come when you need me. And probably when you don’t.”
Shiro laughs, and the tension starts to bleed out of the room. “I need you even when I don’t admit it,” he jokes.
Keith tries to laugh, but he’s emotionally exhausted.
The rest of Keith’s visit is spent making jokes and avoiding serious topics. His mom picks him up right at nine P.M. when visiting hours end. On the way home, he asks his mom if Griffin can spend the night.
“Of course,” she says.
He sends Griffin a text, and Griffin shows up half an hour later with an overnight bag. They end up passed out on the floor in front of the TV with the theme song from their abandoned video game playing on loop in the background.
____________________
As a general rule, Keith and Shiro don’t fight. Sure, they’ve had their flare-ups, but most of the time, they don’t fight. The night that Adam breaks up with Shiro, they fight.
Shiro is supposed to be at Adam’s for the weekend. It’s Keith and Shiro’s senior year, and Shiro has been on a cocktail of medications that, along with his physical therapy and muscle stimulators, make it perfectly safe for him to live his life the way he’s always lived it.
Shiro is supposed to be at Adam’s, which means Keith is spending the weekend with Griffin, as they have been once a month for the past almost two years, except for the two or three months that Shiro couldn’t make the trip up to Adam’s college (Adam had only come to visit once during that time; apparently, his fraternity events were often “mandatory”).
Keith is upstairs in his bedroom with the door shut and his shirt on the floor. Griffin’s shirt is somewhere on the floor, too, probably, though Keith can’t be bothered to find out while he’s got his hands down the back of Griffin’s pants and Griffin’s tongue in his mouth.
They still don’t do much more than make out, though the making out has gotten significantly hotter and heavier since the first time.
He doesn’t hear anyone coming up the stairs, and is therefore wholly unprepared when his bedroom door slams open and he’s caught with his literal hands in the figurative cookie jar, staring his extremely distraught best friend in the face.
“Shiro!” he cries, struggling to retrieve his hands from Griffin’s ass and scramble to a less compromising position.
“Shit,” Griffin mutters. He and Keith have gotten to know each other pretty well by now; he knows this is going to spell disaster.
Keith hops off the bed and rushes to Shiro’s side. Shiro is just standing there, stunned, looking back and forth between Keith, Griffin, and the discarded shirts.
“Shiro, are you okay? What’s going on? Why aren’t you at Adam’s?”
Griffin locates his shirt and squeezes past Shiro, who is still blocking the door, with a muttered, “See you later.”
Shiro doesn’t bother to say goodbye. Keith is too distracted by his pounding heart and the vague feeling that he’s about to throw up to do more than nod in his direction as he tears down the stairs.
“What’s going on?” Shiro asks. He looks... angry?
“Nothing, forget it— Shiro, what are you doing here?”
Shiro squints at him. From this close, it’s obvious he’s been crying. His eyes are red-rimmed, and his skin is blotchy, and now he’s looking at Keith like he is the one responsible for his pain. Keith has never seen that look directed at him before, and it makes him want to dig himself a grave and bury himself alive.
“Are you fucking James Griffin?”
“What— no— I swear I’m not— it’s not what it looks like— Shiro please, come sit down—”
“What the fuck, Keith.”
“We’re just friends,” he whispers. He feels so small under the weight of Shiro’s disappointment. This is why he’s never told him about them. Well, partly this, and maybe partly another reason that he’ll probably never be able to face.
“Friends don’t dry hump each other behind closed doors, Keith.”
All at once, Keith’s temper flares.
“Why are you so mad?! I’m seventeen, Shiro. What did you expect me to do? Wait around forever?”
Shiro scoffs. “Whatever.” He’s hurting — Keith can see that — but that doesn’t make it okay for him to take it out on Keith.
“So what if I am, huh? Why do you give a fuck about anything that happens between me and Griffin? You have no right, Shiro, no right to judge me for finding someone who wants me.”
“He’s using you, Keith. Or are you too blind to see that?”
“I know!” Keith shouts. “I’m using him, too! It’s a great system!”
“So, what? This is what you do when I go out of town? Invite Griffin over and do god-knows-what while your parents are downstairs?”
“While you’re out of town to visit your boyfriend? Yeah, so fucking what? And by the way, don’t act like you and Adam have never done anything while your parents were home. You fucked for the first time at a party. Don’t act so high and mighty.”
It’s tense and horrible as they stare each other down. Neither of them says anything for a few minutes. All of the lonely, heartbroken feelings he’s had to deal with over the past six years come flooding back all at once, and it’s all he can do to stop himself from either breaking down or punching the closest thing he can find.
They stand there, fuming and trembling, until Shiro’s face crumples and Keith finds himself with an armful of his best friend.
“Oh, Shiro,” he murmurs, winding his fingers through Shiro’s hair.
His dad finds them at the top of the stairs like that. “Everything alright up here?” he asks. He’s probably heard everything, which Keith will have to deal with later, but for now he needs to take care of Shiro.
“Yeah,” Keith says. “Can we maybe get some water or something?”
His dad nods and gives him a once-over. “Put a shirt on,” he mumbles.
Keith leads Shiro to his bed and sits him down before locating and putting on his shirt. When he looks back at Shiro, he sees that Shiro has found Keith’s old stuffed hippo and is clutching it to his chest in a death grip. It’s adorably tragic. He sits down next to Shiro and goes back to stroking his hair the way he knows helps Shiro calm down.
“Can you tell me what happened?” he asks.
Shiro sniffs pathetically. “Everything was fine until we started talking about my plans for next year.”
Keith’s stomach drops. He had known this was going to be a problem between them, but he hadn’t know it was going to end up like this.
“I’m guessing he didn’t take your decision well?”
Shiro shakes his head. “I told him I got into Garrison, which he knows is my first choice, and it just went downhill from there.”
Keith’s father comes back with the water and an aspirin, just in case, so Keith gets Shiro to drink a bit before continuing the story.
“Thanks.” Shiro sets the glass down and goes back to hugging the hippo. “It’s just— I know he means well, but I can’t give up on my dream just so that he can take care of me. I can’t go to a school that, frankly, I don’t even like that much, just because my boyfriend is there. This is my future. I know that sounds selfish, but I guess I just hoped he’d support me, even if it meant doing long distance for a few more years.”
“You’re right,” Keith agrees. “It is your future. Don’t doubt your decision for a second, Shiro.”
Shiro hiccups, bringing on a fresh set of tears. “I was supposed to marry him,” he chokes out. “He was supposed to be my future, too.”
The sting that statement brings has to be set aside for now; Keith can deal with his complicated feelings later. “Maybe he’ll come around,” he soothes, though he knows that’s not true. Adam can be a bit hard-headed, especially in recent years when it comes to Shiro’s health.
“I don’t think so,” Shiro whispers. “It feels pretty done to me.” His lips wobble, and he sucks in a long, shuddering breath, trying to steady himself. Tears continue to roll down his ruddy cheeks.
“Shiro,” Keith says. His heart shatters for his best friend. “I’m so sorry.” He pulls Shiro close and lets him cry on his shoulder. He smoothes Shiro’s hair over and over again, letting the repetition sooth him. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. A few tears of his own escape the corner of his eye and get lost in Shiro’s hair. “You’re gonna be okay,” he vows. It comes out a little watery. “I swear you will.”
Shiro stiffens when one of Keith’s tears falls through the space between them and lands on Shiro’s hand. He pulls away and looks up at Keith, who can’t hide it quickly enough.
“Why are you crying?” Shiro asks. “You hated Adam.”
Keith shakes his head. “I didn’t,” he says, truthfully. “I just hate seeing you in pain.”
Shiro blinks up at him. “You’re crying because I’m in pain?”
“Of course.”
They don’t say anything else. Eventually, Keith gets Shiro to finish the rest of his glass of water, and they end up lying in Keith’s bed facing each other, hands tangled in the space between them.
“I’m sorry I said those things about you and Griffin,” Shiro says.
Keith tries to shrug, though the effect isn’t quite the same lying on his side. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. It was wrong of me to say. And it’s not even how I really feel.”
Keith makes an inquisitive sound. “What do you mean?”
“Just, you know.” Shiro squeezes his hand once and resumes tracing circles with his thumb. “I’m really not judging you. And I’m happy you found someone. It was just— I dunno, bad timing, I guess. I wasn’t expecting to come back and find you— like that. Especially with James Griffin, of all people.”
“Yeah, I get that,” Keith concedes. “It’s not like I told you about any of it, anyway. So I get why you might have been surprised.”
Shiro’s eyes search his as he asks, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Keith has been dreading this question for almost two years. He has no idea if this is the right time to tell Shiro the whole truth. He’s not sure if he’ll ever tell Shiro the whole truth.
“I guess I was afraid of how you’d react when you found out. Or, I don’t know, maybe I was a little embarrassed that I’ve been doing this weird friends-with-benefits thing with a guy we both used to sort of hate.”
“Friends with benefits, huh?” Shiro continues to look into his eyes. “So you are sleeping together?”
Keith shakes his head. “What you, um, saw, was pretty much as far as it’s ever gone. It’s just for fun, Shiro. We aren’t like, together or anything.”
“For how long?”
Keith sighs. This is going to be hard to explain. “Promise you won’t get mad,” he says.
“I promise.” Shiro squeezes his hand again.
“You remember that party we went to a couple of years ago? For Adam’s graduation?” Shiro nods. “Remember when Griffin and I went out for that walk and took a while to come back?”
Shiro rears back, though their hands remain connected. “Are you serious?”
Keith closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to see Shiro’s expression.
“You ran off to make out with Griffin? I was worried sick about you that night. I thought you might have gotten hurt, or passed out in a ditch, or maybe gotten in a fight with Griffin and you were both in jail or something.”
Keith can’t help but laugh at Shiro’s ridiculousness. “No. Just making out in the backyard.”
Shiro’s look of incredulity is at least better than the utter disdain from earlier. “How?”
“Well...” Keith clears his throat. “I needed some air, and he was heading out, too, so we got to talking, and I realized he wasn’t that horrible kid anymore. You know? We had a really good talk. And then... I mean, there aren’t that many gay guys to choose from at school, or in this town, really, so it kinda made sense for us to, um. You know. Help each other out, or whatever.”
“Okay, sure,” Shiro says slowly, “but what I’m failing to understand is why you agreed to take a walk with him in the first place.”
The hand not tangled with Shiro’s begins to pick restlessly at the bedsheets, even though there’s nothing there to pick. “Well, uh, I guess he could tell I was upset, so he thought a walk would be better than drinking myself into oblivion.”
“What? Why were you so upset? I thought you had a good time.”
“I did!” Keith assures. “Really.”
“So then why were you so upset?”
Keith doesn’t answer. There’s nothing more to say now; Shiro will either get it or he won’t, but Keith isn’t willing to spell it out for him. So instead, he just watches Shiro and waits. And waits. And as the silence stretches on, understanding dawns in Shiro’s eyes, and his expression goes soft and sad.
“Oh.”
Keith doesn’t want to talk about. He doesn’t want to think about it. He doesn’t want to think of anything anymore, because right now the only thing he has energy for is making sure the hole his heart is digging in his chest doesn’t crack his ribs and break through and spill his best-kept secret all over his bedsheets.
He withdraws his hand from Shiro’s and turns the other way, hiding his face and turning his back to the person who holds the fractured pieces of his heart.
“We should get some sleep,” he says. “You’ve had a long day.”
Shiro doesn’t say anything as Keith turns off the lights and settles down to go to sleep. Keith doesn’t allow himself to shed anymore tears.
____________________
The worst day of Keith’s entire life is the day his dad dies.
Things have been strange between him and Shiro for a while, and he’s been struggling. He’s been trying not to let it get to him too much. He’s graduating in a couple of weeks and going to college in a few months, and he doesn’t have time to waste feeling sorry for himself because he’s in love with his best friend who doesn’t love him back. It’s been that way for a long, long time. He’s very used to the feeling of loving without being loved in return. He’s accepted that loving Shiro is a part of who he is, and he doesn’t intend to change that, nor does he intend to act on it.
Shiro, though, doesn’t seem to have accepted it quite so easily.
It’s been about a month and a half since Shiro and Adam broke up. They haven’t had a sleepover since then; Shiro always seems to be busy now, though Keith isn’t sure what he could be doing since he doesn’t have a boyfriend to take up his time anymore.
Keith spends a lot of time with James, now. They’re still friends, even though they’re not really making out anymore. Keith hasn’t been in the mood since he put his heart on the line and had it handed back to him. James seems fine with that. He says when they’re at Garrison next year, it would be better to show up unattached, in case either of them find someone there.
It couldn’t be more obvious what he means — in case James finds someone there. They both know that Keith has no intention of looking for anyone else, especially when the one person he wants will be there, too.
Keith hasn’t actually told Shiro that he finally got his acceptance to Garrison U and will be attending alongside Shiro. He and Shiro have had the same dream since they were little kids learning about the planets in their third grade classroom, but now Keith is worried that Shiro might see Keith attending the same school as him as a bad thing. It doesn’t matter that not too long ago, they were eagerly planning their future, what classes they wanted to take, where they wanted to live (as roommates, of course), what clubs they might want to join. Now they’re not speaking, and it’s all Keith’s fault, so maybe that’s all changed.
James will be there, too. That’s not a new development, since James has also been talking about it for as long as Keith can remember. Keith used to hate the idea of James ending up at the same school as him and Shiro, but now he’s grateful to know he’ll have at least one friend there.
This isn’t how he imagined finishing high school. It’s strangling him.
There’s hardly any work left to be done. He’s already taken his AP exams, so now he’s basically just showing up to school for the last two weeks so that his attendance won’t disqualify him from graduating. The teachers don’t have much left for them to do since exams are over, so class time is often spent doing “fun” and “educational” activities — sometimes more fun, sometimes more educational (like that one time they just watched Anaconda for three days, or the other time they had to pair off and make imaginary children using Punnett squares and then draw pictures of said imaginary children).
Today in biology class, they’re not even pretending to do something. Everyone is separated into their own groups, chatting and listening to music and playing cards. One group is at the white board playing Hangman. Shiro is reading a book. Keith is doodling in a sketchbook he bought recently, trying to figure out how the hell to draw hands.
The intercom crackles.
“Mr. Montez? Can you send Keith to the office, please?”
The class erupts in a chorus of Oooooh, because they somehow still think that’s funny, and Keith just rolls his eyes and stands up.
“Does he need a pass for his next class?” Mr. Montez asks the intercom.
“No, but please have him pack his things and bring them with him.”
Keith knows that means he’s probably going home for the day, but he doesn’t know why. His gaze darts to Shiro out of habit, and Shiro is already looking back at him curiously. Keith feels his face flame at being caught and averts his eyes. He feels the frown on his face, partly from confusion as to why he’s being sent home, and partly from the lingering humiliation he feels in the face of his maybe-former best friend.
“Alright, Keith. You heard her. Don’t keep her waiting.”
As he’s heading out, one of the administrators shows up at the door, and he hears him ask to speak to Mr. Montez in the hallway as he’s walking away.
His mom is in the principal’s office when he arrives. There’s a chair open next to hers, where Keith assumes he’s supposed to sit, but every instinct in him is telling him to run away — there’s nothing good that will come of him sitting in that chair.
“Please come in, Keith.”
The principal rarely uses first names. It’s always Mister and Miss.
Run.
He clutches the straps of his backpack until his knuckles turn white.
“What?” he snaps. His mom looks tired and upset.
“Please have a seat,” Dr. Porter says.
“No.”
“Keith.” It’s his mother talking. She sounds tired, too. Keith has never heard her sound like that.
“No. What?”
Dr. Porter and his mom exchange a look. Krolia shakes her head and stands, shepherding Keith into the room.
“We need to talk,” she tells him.
Everything after that is a vague, blurry haze. He hears someone trying to tell him that he’s not going to see his dad anymore, but that can’t be right. That can’t be right because Keith is graduating in two weeks and his dad promised they could barbecue together that night. It can’t be right because his dad is going to drive him to Arizona and help him move into college. It’s supposed to be their road trip, just the two of them. They’re going to leave a few days early and stop at the tourist traps along Route 66. It can’t be right, because Keith needs his dad. He needs him so much, because he can’t do any of this without him. He can’t.
Inside is a mishmash of emotions that don’t make sense. He’s numb. He’s raw. He doesn’t believe a damn thing anyone is saying. He wants to scream. He wants to punch something — or someone, he’s not picky. He wants to run and run and run and run until his feet fall off and then his knees and then his arms, until all of him turns to dust and blows away in the wind. He wants to lie in bed for the rest of his life and never move again.
Nobody speaks on the way home. Inside the house is quiet. It’s creepy. It’s horrible. The bathroom smells like his dad’s cologne. His laundry is in the hamper. His slippers are by the lounge chair.
Everywhere he looks is a reminder of something he doesn’t — can’t — think about. Even his own room is covered in memorabilia from trips they’ve taken: a souvenir baseball from Keith’s first major league game, an old vinyl record cover of his dad’s favorite band (and consequently Keith’s favorite band) hanging on the wall; even his desk, upon which he flings his backpack, was built by his dad when Keith started high school and needed a quieter place to do his homework.
No matter where he looks, he can’t escape. Every beat of his heart scrapes against his chest, hollowing him out. It would be so much easier if it just stopped.
He lies on his bed and stares at the ceiling. It’s the only safe place to look.
He forgets to eat dinner. His mother doesn’t remind him. It’s a long, horrible night. His dad never comes home.
Keith doesn’t go to school the next day, or the next day, or the next. He learns, after that, that the school has excused him for the rest of the year. There’s no need for him to go just to waste time since he’s already taken his finals anyway.
He waits, and waits, and waits, and no matter how stupid he knows he is, he’s still bitterly disappointed when his dad doesn’t come home.
On the fourth night, Keith leaves the safety of his room to sneak into the kitchen. He and his mom haven’t had a meal together since. It doesn’t feel right. You can’t have a family dinner without the family. He’s hardly had much to eat at all, what with the complete and utter loss of his appetite. Just enough to stop the feeling of his stomach eating itself.
His dad’s favorite way to unwind after a hard shift is — was — to sit down with a glass of scotch and watch whatever baseball game was on the TV. If it wasn’t baseball season, he sometimes watched hockey, but usually he’d search until he found a rerun of an old game.
The scotch is in the glass liquor cabinet with the nice glasses. It’s not locked, because Keith has always been a good kid, and his parents have never had any reason to believe that they would need to lock it. That works to Keith’s advantage now as he swipes the bottle and goes out to the backyard.
It’s disgusting. Keith barely likes the taste of most alcohol, and this isn’t even diluted by anything. It tastes like gasoline, and it burns, and it’s the first thing other than suffocating emptiness that Keith has felt in four days.
He sits in the backyard and drinks, and drinks, and when he’s feeling good and stupid, he starts walking. By some absolute miracle, his phone still has some charge — probably because he hasn’t bothered to look at it for four days.
There are several messages from James:
Hey, didn’t see you in math class. Everything ok?
Hey, are you sick or something?
Let me know if you need anything.
Hey. Sorry if I’m bugging you. Just haven’t heard from you in a few days and thought I’d check in.
He lets those sit, because honestly, he can’t even think about James right now. That part of his life seems so distant. It feels weird as fuck to have texts from James Griffin on his phone, worrying about him, checking in on him, even though they’ve been friends for two years. It feels weird as fuck that he hasn’t heard from Shiro in god-knows how long. And he’s pissed.
He smashes Shiro’s speed dial and listens to it ring. He’s still walking, though he doesn’t know where he’s going. The bottle of scotch swings from his fingers as he ambles along.
Shiro doesn’t answer, and that makes Keith even more mad. It doesn’t matter what time it is — hell, he doesn’t even know what time it is — Shiro is supposed to answer when Keith calls. Shiro’s voicemail message plays. The machine beeps.
“HEY. Guess you weren’t expecting me to call, huh?” Keith chuckles darkly. “Nah. ‘Course you weren’t.” There’s a pause as he focuses on kicking a loose rock on the asphalt. “Stupid rock. Do you even think about me, Shiro? Do you — do you ever think about me at all? Why—” he takes a stuttering breath— “Why don’t you talk to me anymore? Why aren’t we f-friends anymore? Huh?” Another pause. “TELL ME why we aren’t friends anymore, Shiro! Tell me why you’re gone. Tell me why you left. Tell me w-why everyone l-leaves.” All of his breaths stutter now. He can’t breathe at all. He’s just walking and kicking the stupid fucking rocks. “Where the fuck are you, Shiro? My—” He can’t say it. “My—” There’s a long, loud honk from behind him, practically causing him to jump out of his skin, and the bottle shatters where it falls from his limp fingers. “FUCK. My dad is DEAD, Shiro! And WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?”
He hangs up the phone and stumbles to the side of the road to sit on the grassy curb in front of someone’s house.
For the first time in four days, he cries. He sobs and screams and rips the grass out of the ground and smashes his balled fists against the dirt until it’s caked into his skin, and then he lies down on his side and cries some more.
He’s not sure how, but the next morning he wakes up in his own bed in a set of clean pajamas. There’s water and aspirin on his nightstand. Everything hurts, most notably his throat.
There’s crusty shit in the corners of his eyes, which is annoying, so he digs it out and flicks it somewhere else. His head doesn’t hurt yet, but he pops two aspirin anyway.
It’s finally hitting him now. His dad isn’t coming back. Ever. He’s seventeen years old, and he’s never going to get to see his father ever again.
His hands hurt. There’s dirt encrusted under his fingernails, and the meat of his fists where he beat the ground is scratched and tender. He examines them for a while, just thinking. He’s spent four days not thinking about anything at all, so now he sits and thinks about his fingernails and his dad’s last bottle of scotch and the fact that his best friend in the whole world hates him, maybe.
There’s a noise on the other side of the room, causing Keith to shoot straight up in bed and back against the wall. He immediately regrets it; pain shoots through his skull at the same time as his stomach protests the movement, and he’s sure he’s about the puke all over his bed.
A trash can appears in front of him, and he pukes in that, instead.
When he’s finished dry-heaving into the bucket, he closes his eyes and leans back against the wall. It’s cold against his back, and the position makes him feel less nauseous.
“Sorry,” a quiet voice murmurs. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
It takes all of Keith’s energy to force his eyes open and meet that voice. He almost doesn’t, almost assumes it’s just a mean trick his mind is playing on him, but he has to see for himself if Shiro is really here.
“I’m so sorry, Keith,” he whispers. Keith can see his jaw and throat working, like he’s holding something back. “I’m so, so, so sorry.”
A tear slips from Shiro’s eye. He tries to hide it, but he’s not fast enough.
“My dad is dead,” Keith whispers miserably.
Shiro nods. “I know. I’m so sorry.”
More tears fall, and for the first time in what feels like a lifetime, Keith finds himself in the arms of his best friend, comforted by his familiar arms and familiar scent.
Shiro stays with him every night for a long time, after that. He still has to go to school, but he comes back in the afternoons or evenings. Sometimes he brings food sent by his parents. His parents come by some nights, too, to help with things around the house and give Krolia the support she’s been sorely missing from her son.
It takes another exhausting, tear-filled conversation to make things right with his mom, but she understands. They do their best to start having dinner together again. It’s better with Shiro there, but there’s still a massive, gaping hole where Keith’s father once sat.
They work on it. It doesn’t get easier, but life goes on.