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This argument could go on forever. Does Shiro get to do the thing he’s always dreamed of, or is he just gonna get kicked into the fucking ground?
The way Sam Holt and Admiral Sanda are firing back and forth with each other, it’s almost like Shiro isn’t even in the room, like he’s just ceased to exist, his opinion not of the slightest interest.
It’s as if they’re not discussing his livelihood and they’re just arguing about who’s going to win the next football match or what they should get for dinner. Fingers are pointed, feet are stomped and arms are waved. Then, Sam threatens to pull out of the mission and Shiro can see as Sanda stiffens, considers her options and decides that it’s finally time to retreat.
"I'll have to consider your request, Officer Shirogane," she says and without waiting for an answer, leaves. The hiss of the closing door seems to echo around the room, but Shiro knows that it’s all in his head.
She’s left him without a ‘yes’ - again. It’s enough to make him want to rip the stupid stimulus bracelet off, say ‘fuck it all’ and steal a ship before anyone can stop him. A nice thought, however unrealistic.
Sam frowns and turns to Shiro. "It'll be fine. She'll come around."
"Hopefully," Shiro says, trying to sound positive. All he can hear is his own premeditated disappointment, that empty pulse thrumming in the sides of his skull just below his ears, making his cheeks burn in shame. It's like I'm a fucking cripple.
"I meant what I said," Sam says, putting a hand on Shiro's shoulder as he passes, "I'm not going on this mission if you're not coming with me."
Shiro musters up a grateful smile, but it does nothing to help his mood.
Silence engulfs the office when Sam leaves. Shiro lets it swallow him, closing his eyes and breathing deeply as he allows it to drift through. Usually such an action would calm him instantly, yet today it's not enough.
Grabbing his satchel, Shiro marches out of his office, determined to reach his dorm quarters without coming across anyone he knows. Thankfully, most people are in classes, so it's only him wandering, the linoleum floor cold and rejecting beneath his boots. His bracelet goes off and it takes all of him to not slam his fist into the nearest wall, to not kick and scream and tear his hair out with how fucking stupid and unfair this all is, because now it's getting in the way of him doing something that is his dream, something that will prove he's worth a damn and isn't just some weak, sick, Garrison charity case.
This whole situation… it sucks, as Adam had so eloquently put it when they had that first doctors appointment. It really fucking sucks.
Inside the dorm, Shiro leans against the door, closing his eyes and attempting to calm himself again. This time it works a little, taking the boil out of his blood and leaving him at a soft simmer.
Walking through, he throws his satchel on the couch and sits beside it, burying his face into his hands. He cringes when his bracelet goes off again.
"Didn’t go that well?" Adam asks.
Shiro's head snaps up and he startles when he sees Adam sitting at the kitchen bench. "Oh. Hi." Guilt creeps up his spine at the idea that he didn't even notice Adam. Some boyfriend, I am.
Adam greets him back with a soft, sympathetic smile. He looks tired, Shiro thinks. Black bags hang under his eyes like crescent moons, his skin a bit paler than usual. When Shiro had gotten out of bed this morning, Adam had been waiting for him in the kitchen, coffee and breakfast ready. Now, Shiro realises he probably should’ve taken that as a sign that something was going on, but he figures that now is the wrong time to ask, anyway.
So, he does the selfish thing and gets ready to spill his guts. "Sanda doesn't want me to go."
Adam nods and walks over, two coffees in hand. He gives one to Shiro, then sits down beside him. "You know she's doing it with your health in mind." His voice is gentle, patronising. It’d be soothing, if Shiro wasn’t in such a shitty mood.
"It's my dream, Adam," Shiro says. "Ever since I was little, I've wanted to go to space. I can't just give up on it because I'm sick."
"I know," Adam says, putting a hand on Shiro's knee. From past experience, that means he’s going to say something important. Anxiety pulses away in Shiro’s brain, but he fights it off, listening when Adam tells him, "I know it's your dream and I want you to go after it, but it's a huge risk to your health. I mean-" he pauses, at a loss for words, "-it could kill you, Takashi. And I know you keep saying that even if you were healthy, you'd be risking your life, but we're talking about you being sick, about this shaving years off your life. I just think there's a better option. Somewhere. Anywhere. Just not Kerberos."
It’s not fair. He lashes out. “And what, it means I spend less time with you? What if you were coming with me? Would it be fine then, because you got to spend that time with me? You think this is about you?”
The moment the words leave his mouth, he regrets them.
Adam’s face doesn’t even change from its blank sadness and that’s most certainly the worst part, because instead he looks at Shiro like he understands, like he’s already forgiven him and isn’t going to fight back.
And with that, something breaks between them. An invisible, intangible thing that Shiro can’t quite comprehend, but is hurt by all the same, a pang of loss echoing in his chest. A cold knowledge from somewhere in his gut tells him this may be irreparable.
“Takashi, I’m not gonna argue with you. I know it would make this easier, but I can’t. I can’t get upset with you, because I know this is your dream and I know you don’t believe me, but it hurts me just as much as it hurts you when people tell you that you can’t do it.” Adam grabs Shiro’s hand and sets it in his lap, squeezing it tightly. “I’m being selfish, I know that. I want you to stay because I’m scared for myself, too. I just-” his voice cuts and he looks away. Measured, calm, he takes a sip of his coffee and blinks off tears. The room is silent.
Despite Adam’s vain attempts of cooling off, his tears come. And, despite the situation, there’s nothing more that Shiro wants to do besides wipe them away, fingers itching with need.
He refrains. He’d be selfish to wipe them away, to force the two of them into pretending Adam’s tears never surfaced in the first place.
“I’m sorry,” Shiro says. It’s the only thing he can say, now. It’s the only phrase on his mind, the repetitive, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
Adam takes a deep breath, looks into Shiro’s eyes and makes a decision that Shiro can’t decipher. “I’m just scared. I don’t- I don’t know who I am without you, you know? And I’m scared, because I know I have to let you go, because there’s no other option, but I don’t want to leave you. I love you. You’re- you’re the only person on my mind and I know you always will be, so I leave you here and then what? I fall asleep every night thinking of you? I go to class and teach, I cook, I watch TV and I’m always thinking of you?” More tears sneak out of the corners of his eyes, rolling halfway down his cheeks and stuttering, stopping, fading into his skin.
Both of them are quiet, Adam’s words mulling between them.
Of course Adam is breaking up with him. It makes perfect sense. And, surprisingly, it makes Shiro fall a little more in love, even if it really shouldn’t, even if it should really be doing the exact opposite, should really be driving him further away, the way he knows Adam wants it to. Their relationship is over. Something has broken between them, invisible and intangible, yet…
“I’m scared, too,” Shiro murmurs, rubbing a thumb over Adam’s knuckles, hoping it brings some comfort, however heavy it may be. “You made me the man I am today. If I'd never met you, I wouldn't be anywhere near here. I'll never be able to thank you enough for what you've done, but… you don't need me. I mean it. Out of the two of us, you've always come out better and I know that I'm doing the worst thing I possibly can by leaving you, because everyone else has left you, but just know that I still love you, and that if I could spend the rest of my life with you, I would."
Adam sets his coffee mug on the floor and turns to face Shiro, gazing at him in silence. There's a softness in his eyes, a wet and sad quality, the whites of them still bloodshot and the lids a little red. It's then that Shiro realises: this is the first time Adam has ever cried and been upset while he does it. The other two times, he'd been ecstatic: first, when Shiro proposed and second, when Shiro broke his final Garrison record, setting his name in the history books for good. Both times, he was beautiful when he cried. Now, he still is. Isn’t that fucked up? To think he’s beautiful when he’s upset.
Fingers delicate, Adam takes Shiro's mug and sets it on the floor, then stands.
"Come here," he says.
Shiro does as asked, looking down at the breathtaking man before him. Come with me, he wants to say. The words don't form.
Warmth and safety are the only two feelings to come to Shiro when Adam's arms wrap around his waist. He feels a little guilty for taking so much comfort in it, but then a little voice in the back of his head tells him that Adam is probably doing this for himself, too, so he puts an arm around his back and another over his shoulder, clasping his hands together the same way he always has. Adam sighs against his neck, breath warm and stealing across his skin.
"One last night," Adam murmurs, "one last night together and then I'll go."
"I'm the one leaving on the mission. I should go," Shiro says. They may be breaking up, but he's going to do right by this man, even if it kills him.
Only, Adam is staying silent. It's enough for Shiro to put two-and-two together.
"You've already organised something,” Shiro says. He thinks of everything. God, I love him.
Adam nods. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay," Shiro says, "I've always wished I had your pragmatism."
"You don't," Adam whispers, voice broken and careless. Other times, when he’s said something like that, it’s hurt. Now that Shiro can’t comfort him properly, it hurts tenfold more.
They leave the conversation at that, holding each other as close as they can for just a little longer, just a moment more before they have to let go, before condition and situation become enough to tear them apart.
God, I love him.