Chapter Text
The first time it happened, he was six years old. Such a young boy.
He remembered everything like it was yesterday, he remembered the cops and the NCIS agents, he remembered the blood, he remembered the look in his father's eyes. He remembered everyone asking so many questions.
Until agent Gibbs finally got them to move away. Agent Gibbs was a kind man, he knew what it was to lose people. He told him about his wife and daughter, how they were killed.
He remembered agent Dinozzo and agent McGee, they were weird but intelligent people.
He found himself getting attached to them, he remembered staying with them until the case was solved, like it was. He learned the culprit was a gang leader, Zarkon Alvarez.
He remembered the agents bidding him goodbye as he was sent to foster care.
Then he remembered how he couldn't breath, how his chest felt heavy and his head felt dizzy.
He remembered his father's body, how it laid lifeless on the ground.
That was the first time Keith had a panic attack.
***
Keith was currently eighteen years old, lived with Ai Shirogane, Tadashi Shirogane, Takashi Shirogane.
They were a family.
They had the same last name, Keith didn't. His name was Keith Kogane, he wasn't their family and he knew it.
So the mornings was always the most difficult ones, were Ai, Tadashi and Takashi were all in the same place.
Always in the kitchen, cooking breakfast and talking about their plans. They were happy. Until Keith came down. Their smiles always dropped and it made him feel guilty.
It did that morning too but he did his best to ignore it.
He walked to the fridge to get something to drink, he didn't want to stay there longer than necessary and since school started in twenty minutes, he might have an out.
Until,
“Keith, please come sit down.”
It was his supposed mother.
He turned around to look at them and saw what he always saw, pity.
He frowned slightly as he made his way to the table, slowly but stable enough to keep him calm. He knew his adopted family were wary of him, he had many outbursts.
He signed,
What is it, Ai?
He hadn't talked since he was eight years old, he didn't dare do it. He knew what would happen, his throat was so dry and his voice would be raspy. He couldn't bear to say a word.
He heard Ai sigh.
“We know you feel bad about moving, but you have to go to school. We have already talked to the teachers, they know about your condition and will keep that in mind.”
That was Ai.
Always straight to the point and bold. If they were related, that was who he would get it from.
He nod his head and ignored his rumbling stomach for the sake of getting out of that claustrophobic house. He never felt save around them. He knew they could disown him whenever they wanted to and he hated it. He hated being a person people could disown.
Perhaps he should have died with his father.
He thought that often, at nights he couldn't sleep and mornings he couldn't bring himself out of bed. Days he didn't go to school and afternoons he forgot to take his medication.
Keith had anxiety and everyone knew it. He had regular panic attacks that could last from ten minutes to an hour or two. He never calmed down until he was by himself.
But at school it was more complicated.
He couldn't lock himself into the bathroom for a long time without people thinking he were jerking off.
Especially when he go in with a red face and goes out with an even redder face. It was because he couldn't breath, he didn't get oxygen into his lungs.
Now he was going to a new school were no one knew him.
He was a stranger.
He was someone no one knew existed until recently, and in truth, it was scary how a life could be so meaningless.
***
He arrived to school ten minutes late and being late at his first school-day was pathetic. People were going to think he were some kind of drug-dealer or jackass. Maybe some would try to deal him drugs.
He hated drugs, with a passion.
So as he made his way to his homeroom, he felt his heart quicken and his hands sweat. He took deep breaths to calm himself.
He didn't knock, instead, when he found his homeroom he opened the door and peeked his head in. He saw people. Students who turned their heads towards him. He looked around until he spotted a red-haired man with a vibrant moustache to match. He think he already liked him
“Ah, you must be Keith Kogane, huh?” The man asked with a thick Australian accent. He was good with accents and languages.
He shook his head yes.
“Fantastic! How about you introduce yourself and then take a seat somewhere?” The energetic man seemed to be the only one to enjoy this class.
But Keith stepped in nonetheless with a wry smile and shaking fists. He wondered if he looked like he wanted to punch someone.
He glanced to his homeroom teacher and took a deep breath, trying to find a way to communicate in a way they would understand.
Seriously, did that man not read the mail?
Keith picked up a white-board marker without any knowledge if he was allowed but he wrote on the white-board nonetheless.
“I'm Keith Kogane, eighteen years old, I am mute and have been since I were eight. Therefore I communicate this way. Hope don't mind. Not that I care.”
Backing away to let everyone see what he wrote, he glanced around the classroom to see some understanding nods, some annoyed grimaces and some mean gestures.
Well, that was a nice class he supposed as he made his way to the seat on the first row.
People stared at him and he knew it. Perhaps it was his longer hair or violet eyes, but he supposed they would be overlooked from afar. Maybe it was his clothing style, after all, he had chosen a white, red and yellow leather jacket, his signature one, a black t-shirt, black skinny jeans and combat boots, together with his belt and fingerless leather gloves, he suppose he looks emo.
But Keith couldn't care less.
He was there for study, not for friends. He did after all not do friends. He couldn't depend on them. People always left once he put his trust in them and he wasn't ready for that.
Not again.
So he was going to do like he always did.
Push everyone away until they accept defeat. But apparently that was going to prove more difficult than he thought.