Shiro never liked the rain.

He disliked the way it seemed to steal everything he liked about the world. It stole the warmth of his home, replacing it with a chill that settled deep within his bones; it stole the vibrant light of the sun, leaving dark clouds to shroud everything in shadows; and it stole the quiet merriness his environment exuded, leaving in its place a gloom that seemed to reach into his heart. Not to mention, it left everything thoroughly wet and made it hard for him to venture out.

Shiro made his way to the living room to shut the last of the windows, pulling his cloak tighter around himself. The crimson material was worn and faded from time and use, but it was warm, and he needed all the warmth he could get. Even with the layers of shirts and sweaters he wore, he was freezing. It had been a cold night to begin with, and the weather only made it colder.

Reaching towards the window, he felt a few drops of rain land on his skin. He froze. Distant memories of that night coming forward in graphic detail, as if he was experiencing it all over again. Instantly, he retracted his hand, holding his fist close to his chest. The sensation of cold, hard rain pelting down on him washed over his body, and he shivered. A sharp pain ebbed at his right arm where his flesh connected to his prosthetic.

He was scared— so scared— but he couldn't make a noise. If he did, it would come back again.

Instead, he squeezed his eyes shut and took small, shaky breaths. Slowly, he brought his fist away from his chest and uncurled his trembling fingers. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes. He looked down at his shaking hand, his breath hitching in his throat when he saw red. His fingers were covered in crimson liquid, its color standing out in the dark even with the rain trying to wash it away. His breath got caught in his throat, and he could feel dread settle in the pit of his stomach.

He needed to run. Hide. Go somewhere safe. But he didn't have time. It was nearby. It would find him again and take more than just his arm and—

The sound of the windows slamming shut roared in his ears, and suddenly, he was back in his living room. He blinked. His hand wasn't covered in blood, and his body wasn't soaked with rain. His arm still throbbed with a dull ache, and his heart still pounded against his chest, but he was all right. He was safe now.

I'm safe, he thought, I'm safe.

He glanced at the now-shut windows, figuring that it was the wind that swung them shut. He was thankful for that, knowing that he would have had a panic attack if it hadn't made such a loud sound. Fortunately, the glass wasn't broken from the force of the impact. Shiro didn't have to worry about replacing it then. He could worry about calming his nerves after what had happened instead.

A cup of tea would help, he decided, carefully making his way into the kitchen. He set a kettle of water to boil and placed a bag of chamomile tea on the counter. Knowing that it would take a few minutes for the water to boil, he settled into a seat by the kitchen island. He rested his head on his left hand, staring at the clear glass of the veranda doors.

There wasn't much to see outside. The rain made it hard to see anything but the faint outline of the trees. Despite that, Shiro continued to stare. Following his therapist's advice, he focused on the way the rain fell and let the sound of it fill his ears. He tried to think of happy memories he could tie it together with.

No blood. No pain. No fear.

It was a challenge to sort through his memories of the rain and move past the day he lost his arm, but he managed. He reached deeper into his memories, searching for a happier time— a time he didn't think the rain was too bad. And the deeper he went, the closer he came to grasping it. He knew there was a happy memory somewhere in there. He couldn't remember it clearly, but he could feel it.

A fuzzy image flashed in his mind— black hair and sharp teeth— but he didn't feel scared. He knew this person. He was warm and familiar. He was…

A sharp movement from outside the veranda snapped him out of his reverie. He tensed. He kept his eyes trained on the doors, watching for any movements. His ears strained against the sound of the rain, searching for any sound that was out of place. He watched and waited until the kettle he'd left began to whistle. Hesitantly, he turned away from the veranda and slid off the chair.

It's nothing, he thought as he moved to turn off the stove. It's just the wind moving the trees.

Only it wasn't. As he poured the water into a mug, his ears picked up the faint sound of howling. His breath hitched in his throat, his muscles tensing up yet again. Carefully, he placed the kettle down and grabbed a knife from one of the drawers. He moved into the living room to get an umbrella, because whether he was in danger or not, he would rather not get soaked when the weather was this cold.

Slowly, he opened the door to the veranda and held the umbrella out so that he could avoid stepping into the rain. Knife in hand, he surveyed the area for a wolf, faltering only slightly when he saw nothing but precipitation and forestry. Confused, he stepped closer to the railing and peered down. He was taken aback when he saw a figure crouched below the veranda. A Galran wolf, he noted. Or at least, part Galra. He didn't look like the usual Galras he came across. He was smaller, and looked more human than wolf.

There was something familiar about him, too, but Shiro couldn't tell what or why.

Shiro tightened his grip on the knife as he studied the wolf, ready for any sudden movements. But as time went on, the wolf didn't move. He simply sat there, shivering in the rain. He whimpered every now and then, and Shiro's fear and apprehension slowly shifted into concern. Before he could think better of it, he was shrugging off his cloak and throwing it over the railing.

He watched the material fall, fluttering for a few short seconds before landing on top of the wolf. He smiled as the wolf jolted at the sudden contact. The wolf inspected the cloth, sniffed it, and felt it with his hands before finally wrapping it around himself properly. He looked around for the owner of the cloak, his head turning in all the wrong directions until Shiro laughed. He whipped his head around to look up at the human, and smiled.

The smile caught Shiro off guard. It was bright and strangely familiar.

Memories came rushing to him in an instant. He remembered running through the forest with another boy— no, a half-wolf. They found shelter underneath a big, old tree. They were wet, but they were laughing. It was raining, but they were happy. They were cold, but they were smiling.

Keith was smiling.

Shiro's eye widened with realization as he looked down at the wolf.

"Keith?" he called, unsure.

The wolf blinked, then broke out into an even bigger smile. "Hey, Shiro."

"You… You're here," Shiro rasped, more surprised than anything. He couldn't believe that his childhood best friend was here. Keith was the person he least expected to see, after all these years apart. A random wolf also named Keith, who knew his name would be more believable than this, but the scar on the wolf's right cheek was all the proof he needed. Having been the one to inflict the wound, he would have recognized it anywhere. He felt a pang of guilt at the thought of the memory.

"Yeah," Keith nodded. "I'm here."

"How? You moved away years ago!"

Keith seemed embarrassed at this point, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand. "I was looking for you actually," he admitted, "I was in the area. Thought I might visit you, even though it's been so long."

"Oh." Shiro couldn't stop the smile from forming on his face, growing wider as he processed the wolf's words. "It's good to see you, Keith."

"It's good to see you, too."

A silence fell upon them, but it wasn't an awkward one. It was soothing and calming in a way that Shiro had never felt on rainy days like this. They simply enjoyed being in each other's company. As he looked down at the shivering wolf bundled in his cape, a warm feeling bloomed in his chest, and he thought that maybe the rain wasn't so bad after all.

Author's Note

hello! thanks for clicking on this fic!

i wrote this for my friend, franc! this is her sweet au, called the awoo au. you can find more stuff about it here: sweetnightingale25. tumblr post/177368953473/introducing-my-silly-sheith-au-awoo-au-also ;; just remove the spaces hehe

a big thank you to my friend russell for proof reading this fic even though he isn't into voltron :) i honestly didn't like how i wrote this, but he made me feel better about it. bless you, friend!

also, this is a sheith fic but it can be interpreted either romantically or platonically! :)

hope you enjoyed reading this!