Chapter Text
Keith loves Pidge, he really does. They’ve been friends for nearly a decade. Pidge is funny, insightful, smart as hell, and knows when he needs time to himself. Time to recuperate from always having to perform for other people. In that aspect, Pidge probably understands him more than Shiro some days. Pidge is also, however, the spawn of Satan. They like to remind him of that every once in a while.
“Come on, Keith,” they say. They’re not begging. They never beg. Their weapon of choice is logic. The power is in their hands if they stay the rational one in the conversation, a craft they’ve honed through years of practice. Pidge is three years younger than him, but no one would ever guess it from their current conversation. “It’s just a supervised movie night with my closest friends from school.”
Keith rolls his eyes and practically spits his next words. “It’s a play date, Pidge. You’ve set up a play date between me and your nerdy college friends.”
Pidge glares at him. The light flashes off their oversized glasses dangerously. “I’d be very careful about who you’re calling a nerd here, Kogane. Let’s not forget the summer you spent searching for Mothman in West Virginia.”
“We swore we wouldn’t talk about that.” The tips of Keith’s ears are warm and he takes a sip of the soda he’d set on the box in front of him when Pidge had declared a lunch break from unpacking so they could “catch up.”
“I don’t remember swearing any such thing.” They shove an unwise amount of pizza into their mouth. “This isn’t a playdate, Keith,” they manage to get out around the mutilated food in their mouth. They finish chewing and take a long chug of their ever-present red bull. “This is just a movie night with a group of like-minded peers.”
Keith snorts. “Pidge, I’ve heard your stories about these guys. I wouldn’t exactly use the phrase “like-minded peers.”
Pidge just stares at him for a moment, face unreadable and Keith just knows he’s in trouble. He’s seen their ‘buffering’ face one too many times to count.
“Really Keith? You’ve heard my stories? Are you referring to the three times we’ve actually talked on the phone this past year?” Their voice stays level, but their eyes bore into him from behind their thick lenses.
Keith’s stomach drops. Suddenly it’s hard to make eye contact with his best friend so he picks up his soda just to have something to do with his hands. The condensation feels nice on his sweaty palms. He says nothing. There’s nothing he can say. That doesn’t deter Pidge.
“Oh, not those. Okay, are we referring to the single skype call? No. The occasional rabbit session? The sporadic texts? Feel free to stop me anytime here, Keith.”
Keith looks back at Pidge. They don’t look angry. They never really get angry with him. Disappointed. That’s what they are. It’s worse.
Keith can handle anger. Keith knows anger. He’s been acquainted with the feeling since he was old enough to form memories, his longest-lasting relationship since birth. The disappointment is new. He knows, after his years living with Shiro and Adam, that disappointment is a byproduct of care. Feeling cared for is new too.
It doesn’t make the sting of letting down the only people who stuck around hurt any less.
Pidge must see something fracturing in his expression because their voice gets uncharacteristically softer. “Keith, I’m not trying to rag on you. I get it. Losing Adam was an awful thing for both of you.” Their voice cracks.
Grief is an awful, selfish thing. It makes your world close in around you, forcing out the good, smothering you with the bad. It’s hard enough to breathe in that bubble, let alone send out a flare, a white flag, a message in a bottle.
Keith had thought he’d done all he could to keep himself and Shiro moving. Looking at Pidge’s downturned face, he finds himself second guessing his survival instincts.
“Keith, I heard from Shiro more than I heard from you. I had to get updates on both of you…from Shiro. And when I felt like I was hovering, I got them from Matt just to make sure you guys were eating, that Shiro’s nightmares weren’t coming back, that Shiro was actually going to his therapy sessions. I had to hear from Matt that you didn’t walk at your high school graduation, didn’t accept any university offers, were taking a gap year.”
Keith can’t hear this anymore. He doesn’t want the events of last year repeated in this empty living room. He wants to keep the illusion of a clean slate, propped up by these unpacked boxes, the bare, blindingly white walls, the cloth wrapped furniture.
“Pidge, we’ve been over this. I had to take care of Shiro.” His voice comes out small. Defeated. He feels even smaller.
They reach over and place a small, pale hand on his knee, a safe comfort born out of years of trust. “I know, Keith, I do, but Shiro doesn’t need you to keep him standing anymore.” The words sound harsh to his ears; hit him like a gut punch. The age old question, What are you worth if no one needs you?
“You need to start living your life again. You both need this fresh start.” The hand on his knee squeezes.
He meets Pidge’s eyes again. “I’m not going to let you isolate yourself again. Do you hear me?” Keith nods his head. Words have escaped him. They always seem to when he needs them the most. He pats the hand on his knee. Squeezes once.
Pidge sits up straight and lets their hand fall back to their side. “Good, because I’ve already cleared movie night with Matt and texted Shiro.” They grab their red bull and take another long swig.
Keith feels like he has whiplash.
His shoulders still feel heavy, but their tone is light and carefree once again. He wonders if this weight will follow him around his whole life.
He’s tired all of a sudden, but sleep hasn’t been able to help for a while now. He still can’t quite force words out. He’s thankful for how well Pidge knows him because they just plow on.
“Hunk and Lance will be over at six on Friday for pizza, junk food, and a Scream marathon.” They look at him, considering. “You’ll have a good time.” Keith really, really hopes so.