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“You’re being too slow.”
“That kick was laggy.”
“I said jump not skip.”
“Keith!” Thace jumped between the training gladiator and his teenage son, who’d fallen to the ground and wouldn’t have been able to get up in time. Pushing it forwards, the gladiator dropped to the ground and the simulation ended as it was pinned down by it’s own battle rod.
“I had it!” Keith complained from the floor. “I didn’t need your help.”
“Really? Was it your wish to be skewered by the level three gladiator? If you really want to go on missions like Shiro then you have to learn to listen to orders, you can’t be the hero all of the time.”
“I don’t need another lecture, I get enough of those from Ulaz,” Keith slumped back onto the floor to catch his breath. He blew a strand of hair out of his face and stared at the training room ceiling as he willed his heartbeat to steady. Thace let the conversation drop and the session end, Keith was obviously exhausted. He’d started training day and night, nonstop since Shiro left several months ago. No one could tell whether he was trying to prove himself worthy of joining the next mission, or distract himself from the absence of his lifelong friend. He was overworking himself either way, and it was showing in the simulations. A level three was usually child’s play for Keith, but in his exhaustion he started making slower moves, and near-fatal errors.
“You should take a break from training, at least for two days,” Thace helped his son up once he was breathing regularly.
“What? No, I can do this, just let me do this.”
“Keith, whatever you’re trying to do it’s only making you suffer unnecessarily - You’re bleeding.” Thace cut himself off once he saw the red dripping from Keith’s elbow. The boy cursed and looked at the wound. He scrapped it something fierce in his fall, but the adrenaline pumping through his veins numbed the pain until it was pointed out to him.
“I’m fine,” Keith huffed and ignored the scrape, even though it was clear the pain was starting to come back to him. Thace pulled a patch out of his pocket and took Keith by the wrist to bandage the wound. He’d taken to carrying medical supplies these last few weeks to make sure he was always prepared for whatever Keith did to himself next.
“You’re not allowed to train for the next few days,” Thace told him once he was finished tending to his son’s elbow. Keith shouted in protest, but there was no chance he’d get his way. Thace ushered him out of the training room and had him watch as it was locked down.
“This door doesn’t open until I say it does,” he told Keith in his strict parental voice. “Understand?” Keith crossed his arms looking away and nodded with a scowl. He hated getting treated with tough love but it was necessary to prevent his wild personality from getting him in too much trouble. Thace ruffled the top of Keith’s head in a weak apology, and it seemed to soften his son’s expression somewhat.
“Get ready for dinner.” Thace walked off, looking over his shoulder to make sure Keith had turned the opposite corner before he left the hallway himself. The next person he walked by, Thace informed them of the training room’s state and that to place a guard there just in case.
Keith moped for the next two days, following Thace and Ulaz like a lost puppy. They gave him little tasks to do to keep him from begging for the training room back, but he still pleaded anyways. He whimpered and whined until Thace couldn’t take it and passed him onto Ulaz. Who then stuck Keith in the library with orders to “read or something and don’t bother me.” Keith groaned dramatically then was promptly shushed. He groaned quieter but mockingly in the direction of the librarian, sticking his tongue out when they turned their back.
Keith read for the next two days. Or at least, that’s what he told his dads. He did read, every once in awhile, just so when anyone asked he had something legitimate to say. He really took to trying to see what he could get away with while no one was looking. He climbed bookshelves, lying on the top and smirking as people walked by under his dangling feet without noticing. He strapped books together and used them as weights, training as much as he could with limited resources. He used his knife to make little carvings in the walls behind stacks of books. It became rather boring after a while, since no one had caught him being a quiet menace yet, or they knew but just didn’t care anymore. That was probably what was happening. So Keith grabbed a book and placed himself on the couch, finally reading like he was told to do. He only got through one chapter though before he dropped his book and bolted out of the room.
“Shiro’s back!” People cheered as they ran to the docking station. Keith threw down everything he was doing, completely forgetting after he heard those two words, and ran faster than anyone to where Shiro’s ship was landing. His feet beat the ground, his heart leaping into his throat so high he choked when he recognized the docked ship as the one he’d watched leave base so long ago. It was many days earlier than anyone had expected but instead of think rationally about the reason for the early return, Keith buzzed with excitement at seeing Shiro once again after all these months. Tears prickled his eyes as he watched the doors open, Blade of Marmora agents began rushing out, the first group was carrying something covered by a sheet. The next few carrying leftover supplies. He ignored it all, everything faded away as he watched the ship doors and anticipated seeing Shiro step through them. Someone pulled his arm but he didn’t budge. Thace stepped into his view, worry-stricken and pale, shouting something Keith couldn’t hear. He kept his eyes on the ship door until Thace forcefully guided him away. He fought it until he finally heard what his adoptive father was trying to tell him.
“Shiro’s in critical condition, we have to go!” Critical condition? Keith didn’t fully understand, but his guard was dropped now enough for Thace to drag him down the hallways. He recognized where they were going but didn’t fully process it until they were looking through glass at the emergency operation. Keith’s soul itself withered as he saw his friend, his brother, his idol, lying motionless on a cold metal table. He was covered in a myriad of scars, some closed up, some still too fresh for comfort, and one cut deep and gushing blood that stretched over the bridge of his nose. He didn’t notice Ulaz there standing on his other side until he started anxiously pacing. Muttering all his mistakes to himself, it had been too soon, Shiro hadn’t been ready yet. It was all his fault.
It felt surreal, standing in the liminal space of the infirmary wing hallway, watching Marmora doctors furiously try to save Shiro’s life. It wasn’t real, it didn’t feel real at all, how could someone so strong, full of life and laughter just come back as, a body. Shiro didn’t look like Shiro at all. There were many physical changes, the front most part of his dark espresso brown hair was stark white, and he was too thin to be healthy. He looked at lot taller than when he left, and jaded as well. He’d aged years rather than the months he was away. That cut on his nose was going to scar terribly, it would there for the rest of his life as a grim reminder of what happened.
What even happened? No one had the time or the heart to tell Keith anything other than he was going to be okay. He was told that so many times, Shiro would live, he’s in good hands, he’s strong he can pull through, he started to think everyone was saying that more to convince themselves than Keith. So he just stood there, and sat there, watching for the hours of surgery. When they moved Shiro to a room afterwards the doctors tried to stop Keith from entering, but they were no match for him. He sat in the corner of the room, staring at Shiro as he slept, afraid to make even the slightest movement, for the days his friend spent unconscious. He didn’t move, he didn’t eat, he just watched.
They were attacked. The entire mission was so close to being compromised, but Shiro stepped in and saved it all. He was a hero, and that’s all anyone would tell Keith. He jumped in front of a firing gun and sacrificed his right arm for the cause.
“Shiro?” Keith choked on his breath as he saw those two brown eyes flutter open. These days had melted together with no distinction between them, feeling like a forever of this blank feeling overwhelming Keith. He was so numb before he saw those eyes open in the middle of the night. Shiro sat up so sluggishly, it felt like a dream. When he made eye contact with Keith, in a chair nestled in the farthest corner, his lips stretched into a painful smile.
“I told you I’d come back to you,” Shiro’s voice was hoarse from lack of use and the various breathing tubes that had been stuck down his throat a few times. Keith tried desperately to push all thoughts of Shiro screaming in pain out of his head. He didn’t move closer, still half convinced this whole thing wasn’t happening at all, he just sucked in shaky breaths as he fought off tears. Clutching the hem of his shirt trying to ground himself in reality, Keith couldn’t stand to get up out of the chair feeling he might shatter himself if he did. His heart shattered as he saw Shiro’s eye land on where his arm should be, but wasn’t. It was torturously silent for an endless amount of time, straining and pulling harder at Keith’s heartstrings every second that passed by.
“I may not have come back in one piece, but, I’m still here like I promised.”
Shiro locked eyes with Keith, still smiling, with light flickering in the deep brown in a way Keith thought he’d never see again. The tears broke through and they rolled down Keith’s cheeks in streams as he shook like a the last leaf left on a breezy autumn day. His feet took him over to Shiro without Keith giving them permission, and he couldn’t remember the trip across the room once he was mere inches away from Shiro. A shaky hand reached out to him, and Shiro closed the space, holding Keith’s hand, drawing circles on his skin with his thumb reassuringly. Keith began to crumble, slowly his legs wouldn’t let him stand and he climbed into the hospital bed with Shiro, who welcomed him warmly, with a smile.
“Shiro,” Keith buried his face into Shiro’s neck, breathing in the familiar scent, wrapping his arms around the man and hugging tight.
Over the days and weeks Keith never left Shiro’s side. He stuck through all the tests, the prosthetic fittings, everything. He didn’t allow anyone to even try asking him to leave. And Shiro didn’t want him to leave either. The mission was long, grueling, and nothing as he expected. The thing that got him through it was knowing he’d go home to Keith in the end. The months they spent apart only proved to strengthen their relationship instead of destroy it as they feared it would. Years passed and things went back to normal once Shiro was fully recovered, new prosthetic and a wiser personality from the one he’d left with. Well, things weren’t completely normal. The relationship between Keith and Shiro had shifted somehow. They didn’t feel like friends, or even brothers anymore. This was much too new to either one of the young men for them to put into words. So they carried on in silence, and closer to each other than before.
“Keith,” Shiro turned to the young man in the bed next to him. They usually shared a room now, since sleeping alone proved to produce nightmares and insomniatic episodes.
“I think,” Shiro paused as he saw those wide indigo eyes looking up at him. He faltered his speech, forgetting everything that he’d prepared for days by this point in the bathroom mirrors. He swallowed his anxiety, tightened his arm around Keith’s waist as they lay together.
“I love you.”
A blanket of silence smothered the two of them. Keith kept looking into Shiro’s eyes, never looking away for even the smallest moment. He hesitantly raised a hand and placed it on Shiro’s cheek, running his thumb over his cheek, brushing against the edge of the scar he’d won years ago. Keith shifted to prop himself up on one arm, his tongue peeked out to wet his lips briefly, and he closed the space between them. He kissed Shiro so softly it felt barely real, as if a ghost was kissing Shiro instead of the person who really was kissing him. Shiro leaned into the kiss, making it harder but ever so slightly as it was still gentle. When it was over it felt like a thousand years had past of just their connection at their lips, and curious eyes blinked open to meet each other with genuine smiles.
“I love you too, Shiro.”