~ I don't own the show or any of the characters yadayadayada
Keith was tired. Exhaustion lay heavy in his bones, weighing down on his shoulders like some form of a bizarre piggyback ride.
It was dusk, the chilled fall air crisp and smoky with the muted barbecue next door. It made something knot in Keith's stomach, cramping and twisting as if he had swallowed a bag of nails. The sky was a dusty pink, blotted with thinning grey clouds and the occasional flock of geese, generally pleasant, but not enough to distract from the sting.
The coffee maker gurgled from where it sat on the kitchens countertop, finally spluttering to life after a five minute wait. The machine was a hairs breath away from broken, slow on the best of days and suspiciously sticky, but still remained a decent steal at a local thrift shop for only five dollars.
Cost aside, the things persistent slowness also persuaded the habits of a certain stoner neighbor to stop hustling mugs of coffee from his apartment. Rolo was fairly good company, but the man knew there was more to his morning visits than to chat.
When the machine finally silences, he swipes the burgundy mug from the stand and drinks eagerly, let's the liquid burn his tongue and throat into a soreness that likely won't leave for the rest of the weekend. The hot caffeine chases the edge of his exhaustion off, whittling it down to something he could stand to deal with until he reaches the sweet expanse of sleep. Hopefully quieting the twisting pain in his middle with the kind of darkness that the teen found through dreamless nights alone. Dreams were disasters, glassy shards of rag doll nights spent bleeding over cotton sheets and smudges of green painting his abdomen. Ink black skies and thundering voices, passing town after town, week after month. Waitingwatchinghurting-
There a knock at the door, light, quick raps that seem to carry a tune once Keith thinks about it. They echo hollowly down the corridor, morphing into something a little more sinister by the final bounce. He answers anyways, quietly shuffling down the hall and cracking open the door with squinted eyes.
"Hello..?"
There's a young man standing there with a startlingly wide smile and golden brown skin that somehow manages to glow under the ridiculously dim lights in the apartments corridor. He's lean, lightly muscled at the shoulders with dark short hair that twists and knots by his ears. Fairly attractive, a part of Keith notes.
"Hey!" The guy sticks out a tanned hand, grasps for Keith's own before shaking it wildly. He's embarrassingly pale in contrast, and the teen finds himself internally scowling. "I'm Lance, your new neighbor."
"Keith." He replies, somewhat dully, distracted at sudden presence of a man, tall and wide all over, slinging an arm around his new neighbors shoulders. He's chubby and cute looking, with wide friendly chocolate eyes and bronze skin. His dark hair is pulled back by a scarlet red headband, and he practically blinds Keith with a distressingly kind smile.
"I'm Hunk." The mans hand completely dwarfs Keith's own, but his handshake is definitely gentler than the one prior, and the long haired teen has never been more grateful. "Also your new neighbor."
"Keith." He says again, feeling like an idiot as he scrambles for his composure.
There's an awkward moment as Hunk shakes his hand a little longer than necessary, all smiles. Keith is suddenly very conscious of how sweaty his palms are, and pulls away to discreetly wipe them on the back of his joggers.
"We're just down the hall." Lance says suddenly, all too loud. "If you want to bake us or pie or something."
"I wouldn't mind a pie." Another voices pipes up. A short teen with fluffy ginger hair and golden frames that seem to be too large for their face. They peer at him with a squint, as if they weren't wearing glasses at all.
"That's Pidge!" Hunk shouts, also very loud.
"I'm Pidge." They agree.
"Also your new neighbor." Lance adds, thankfully quieter this time. He folds his arms behind his head, still grinning widely. Keith wonders if his cheeks hurt.
"I'm Keith." He repeats, feeling just a bit broken and a whole lot stupid from all the sudden social interaction. "I uh- don't really bake."
Hunk laughs, broad shoulders jostling his companions with every inhale. "That's fine. I bake loads."
"Yeah." Pidge pipes up, they've got a laptop hugged against their chest. "He's like our personal chef."
Lance snorts. "A lot nicer than Gordon Ramsey though, so a lot less drama disappointingly."
They fall into a light, awkward small talk that no one actually seems to be quite invested in sans Hunk, who jovially describes the unreal experience he had had at a sushi restaurant back in Ohio involving a blowtorch and an unexpected hailstorm. He's just gotten to the part of which half the kitchens caught fire when Shiro's suddenly there, peering over their heads to grin at Keith.
"Hello." The man chimes, offering a smile. Hunk shrieks in surprise and Pidge snickers.
"I think I've left the oven on." Keith blurts, face burning. "These are my new neighbors, introduce yourself Shiro."
Shiro laughs, warm and amused in a way that makes something knot in his chest. "Well now you just did it for me!"
Keith ducks into the kitchen in lou of an answer, dropping the heavy bags with a sigh as soon as he's out of sight. The man rolls his shoulders before stooping to collect the items and methodically puts them away. It calms his heart, which he hadn't even realized had been beating so fast until he'd rushed away. Meeting new people always spooked him, the fear of the unknown, he supposed.
It's only a couple of minutes before Shiro joins him; gently knocking on the doorframe before stepping in. He looks tired, but content and not completely miserable. It's enough for Keith to offer him a smile; small but sincere.
The older man grins back, snatching a soda can from one of the countertop and popping the lid with a satisfying hiss that the younger male could never manage to get down.
"Oh, ew." Keith says. "That was room temperature, monster."
"Coke, actually." Shiro offers back. "Diet."
Keith groans, shoving at the man with his shoulder. He predictably doesn't even shift at the movement, all muscle and steady as a rock. The silence they fall into is pleasant and companionable, strangely comforting to someone who'd grown to hate the quiet and the loud.
The younger male sweeps up his mug from where he'd left it on the table, examining his friend over the cups rim. They'd known each other for years, kicking it back in Texan cafes over textbooks and coffee. He'd been the closest thing Keith ever had to family, and the dark haired man was glad they'd reunited, which still remained the only time the universe had shown kindness to him.
"So," he pulls at his hair, wishing for a band to pull his bangs back. "What brings you here short notice."
Shiro cracks another smile, it's stiff at the edges, tight all over and practically screaming of hidden distress. "You weren't answering your phone." The man runs a finger down the cans side. "Thought I'd- thought I should check on you."
Keith feels a stab of guilt, hot and unwelcome. He swallows over the sudden lump in his throat and rocks forward in his chair to peer inconspicuously into Shiros face. His phone must have remained dead, his charging wire was three strikes away from being as broken as the coffee maker, dangerously frayed and habitually not recharging his phone when plugged in.
"I'm okay." It's quiet, awkwardly wobbling near the end, but hopefully gets the point across.
It's not, Keith knows instantly when Shiro nods. His head bobs fiercely but his eyes are firm when they meet Keith's own. Are you sure ? They ask in the sky blue expanse of the mans iris.
Keith doesn't know how to say he is, when he hadn't been. He's spent nights over blades and alcohol and one night stands that leave him bruised and alone by the time the sun rises. Spent nights running through the dark, terrified of things he can't see. There's shadows in every corner some days, crowds that see through him, co workers that look down at him. Whispers in his dreams saying brokenbrokenbrokenangryuglyboy-
Keith isn't okay but doesn't know how to say it.
And so he doesn't.
I don't know what I'm doing~
