When Keith had been younger, he had ignored the warnings from his father and snuck a knife to school. He hadn't used it. No one found him out. But as he was practicing twirling it behind the gym, he had been startled by the sound of nearby laughter and fumbled.
Cursed with thin skin, the knife had pierced him just right, drawing a pool of blood to his paper white flesh. It had bubbled up above the surface and poured over without permission. Keith pressed his hand to the wound, but it blossomed through his fingers and grew, an unstoppable force, pouring out of him, pushed out by the force of his heart.
He had felt panic. Fear. He was alone and didn't know how to stop it.
He had been a boy then. He wasn't a boy now.
He hadn't thought about that incident since it had happened, but, years later, walking through campus after his last class, it all came flooding back - an unwanted wave of familiar emotions that rose up inside of him, sweeping away without mercy.
He had turned at some annoying clicking sound and that's when everything changed.
Keith saw him .
He didn't even know who he was, but suddenly, his world was metamorphosing. Literally. Bleeding in growing blossoms.
He had heard of it before - colors . He had only known varying degrees of greys and that's what he expected out of the rest of his life. Only some, the lucky ones, would ever see colors.
When he was a child, naive and small, his greatest wish was to be like his mother and father, to be one of the lucky ones - special - guided by the hand of fate. He wanted to meet the one destined for him.
But life happened and he grew wiser. Grey became his comfortable niche.
The charmed were loved. Not orphans who'd grown up cycling out of foster family after foster family, hearts long gone bitter and cold.
People like Keith didn't believe in soul mates. He didn't have a family. He didn't even have a car. He lived in a shitty little apartment that even a dog would snub its nose at. No, Keith didn't have happy endings. He had resigned himself to live in his world of black and white. That had been fine by him.
But suddenly, he felt like he was bleeding . His familiar mellow greys were becoming too bright, too vivid, too much. His blacks were morphing, changing, richer, deeper into dimensions he didn't want to know existed. The world he'd come to understand was writhing and manifesting into something else, something painfully foreign. It was like drinking what you thought was water only to find vodka, or going to toss yourself into blankets of silk and landing into a vat of sandpaper. Too much. It was all too much.
No, he wasn't hurt, but he couldn't breathe . His senses were overwhelming him. He was a balloon about to pop.
He could sense people staring. Walking past, eyes tracked on his face, worrying. One girl reached out, only to be quickly shushed by her friend.
Too much.
Colors. He knew what it was the second it started happening. He still couldn't breathe.
Because his soulmate was right there doused in colors, walking ahead of him. He was everything Keith would've wanted him to be and more: tall, handsome, smiling, perfect. His voice was so softly pleasant it sounded like the sun in mortal form.
And Keith... Keith was just...
It was the world's sick joke, laughing at him. Dangling everything he wanted in his face, setting him up to fail.
Face crumpling, he pushed past a person in the way and ran all the way back home.
It wasn't that most of the people on earth had a soulmate, it wasn't that at all. It was just that those who did were considered the ideal, the height of love and happiness, so most of the population glamorized it, hoping that, one day, that could be them.
Colors meant you were loved. No ands, ifs or buts. It just was .
Keith had believed in love fiercely as a child when his father had lost all hope in it. Keith thought if you believed, then it made it true, and others would see that too, and maybe his father's heart would be cured.
But then the one person he'd ever loved had left him alone in their home on Christmas Eve and never came back. If he had been naive enough to think it was a mistake at first, time healed him of that naivete. Slowly, he realized that love was a lie.
His world had been grey, and in some sick masochistic way, Keith liked that it was. His father hadn't loved him, no one would, and that was his signature. He wouldn't love anyone either. Fuck everyone else.
But it had hurt seeing his foster brothers and sisters lighting up with awe and delighted surprise when they were told they got a family - someone to love them. As Keith stood there, unchosen, rejected.
A secret part of him, buried deep in his heart, had always longed for that moment too. For the world to tell him that he did belong. That he was born to be loved, like those who were the luckiest: those who saw colors.
Keith was scared.
All the colors were burning into his retinas and he couldn't stop the shaking. His hands were so...so... pink . He'd heard about it, the vividness, the overwhelming rush attacking the senses, but to experience it was another thing. He just wished he could go back to how things were.
He hadn't even gotten a good look at that guy who had torn his comforting greys from him, but he thought maybe it'd be best if it stayed that way. Keith knew his own reputation. He didn't know if he could take it if his soulmate took one look at him and turned away just like everyone else.
He was probably the grungiest most foul-mouthed person on the entire campus. People knew it. Even he felt ashamed sometimes.
He quickly promised himself he wouldn't go looking for this soulmate. His newfound vision was enough to deal with. It'd keep him distracted. It was good in that way.
But the next day, he was already breaking that promise.
He shoved some sunglasses on to filter out the colors, and crept around the school, quietly. Hands shoved in pockets and hoodie up, he wandered around the quad, eyes discreetly searching out any tall bulky figure.
He wasn't going to go after the person, oh no, he probably wouldn't even stare. He was just going to double-check. See if anything else happened. Maybe it was a mistake and his vision would go back to grey and he could take off those damn stupid sunglasses.
People kept giving him looks. In the middle of December, the sun was covered by clouds and night began to set around four in the afternoon. Sunglasses were just weird. Weirder than usual, even for him.
It took all afternoon of searching. And right as he sighed in defeat, leaning against a street lamp, frowning and thinking, he saw him walk into the light.
Without the shock and disorientation, Keith allowed himself to look properly. Closer. Dark hair, an undercut, a strange little white forelock that bobbed as he took each step. There was a thick scar across his nose, a deeper red than the rest of his face, but he wore it with a confidence that said it didn't bother him. He was laughing again, always that brilliant smile, walking out of the musty auditorium Keith always avoided when there were events going on.
He had friends on either side, enthralled in whatever conversation they were having. He had some sort of cane - an injury? - but Keith wasn't paying attention. He was too busy disobeying himself and barreling out of the barrier of the street lamp's light into their pathway. He had to know what his soulmate would see. He had to. Before this chance walked away from him.
Everyone stopped abruptly, tossing looks that ranged from apprehension to disapproval. None were welcoming.
Keith placed himself right in front of his soulmate, heels clicking hard into the cement, his arms crossed, glaring, as you did when you wanted to properly introduce yourself.
His soulmate blinked in confusion.
This was the moment Keith had been waiting for... The moment fate made colors bleed into his vision. A soft gasp, maybe. A brief look of surprise. Maybe he'd be sick and disappointed. Maybe, just maybe, his smile would grow.
He looked up - Keith sucked in a breath, time standing still - but if he was waiting for that response, he'd be waiting for a long time. There was nothing - no recognition, no surprise, no flicker of anything but confusion. A soft smile found its way to his lips instead and he asked hesitantly, but kindly, "can I help you?"
"Shiro," his friend murmured lowly, tugging his sleeve so that he followed, walking around Keith like he were a random stone tossed into the path. He whispered loudly, standing on his tiptoes to reach Shiro's ear. "It's that one kid. Kogane. Let's go."
Shiro drew a little taller, half-turning back. "Huh? But what does he want? Why are we leaving?"
A loud sigh from his friend. "You're hopeless."
Keith turned slowly, but they were already a few feet down the path, walking off and away from him.
He hadn't reacted to Keith at all. Not even a suppressed reaction. Not even with hatred.
That was... "Disappointing" was the word that Keith allowed himself to admit, but "crushing" was more on par to how he felt.
Keith didn't want to admit it to himself, wanted to stay strong, but his heart sunk, deep and sticky into his hollow dark stomach. His throat tightened. His eyes narrowed in anger.
Typical. So typical.
He dug into his pockets and didn't stop until he found a cigarette. He lit it, acutely aware of the glares he was already getting from the people exiting the auditorium. Apparently stars and smoke didn't seem to mix to them. But he thought it did. For the moment, he admired the bright glowing red at the end of his cigarette, liked the way this newfound color burned into his eyes with its intensity alone.
"Piss off," he growled at someone who had stopped in front of him, mouth opened long with the tall eyebrows that just screamed lecture .
His tone was good - the person turned and scurried away - but there was no satisfaction in his heart. Not then. He felt like he'd lost somehow.
He was seeing rainbows of color where Shiro had turned away.
"Two soulmates?" His friend repeated over the phone as Keith closed his eyes tightly and rubbed his forehead.
Keith had met Lance when he was at the orphanage. He'd spotted a child on the other side of the fence, belonging to an actual family that lived nearby in an actual home, and they'd both been fascinated by each other's differences. They fought a lot, but Lance was as close to a brother as Keith had ever had and the only person he might admit to calling a friend. Basically the only person he could call at all, but that was beside the point.
"Yeah, like, if Person A sees Person B and bam - colors. But Person B saw colors initially with Person C."
"Not Person A?"
"Right."
"...You're saying this is a question on your test tomorrow? Which class?"
"Lance, shut it. Just answer the question."
"I'm just saying, it's kind of a weird question for school. Some people don't even believe in the soulmate stuff. I mean, you don't, do you?"
Keith knew Lance well enough to know where this conversation was going. "If I have to hear about you and your girlfriend of the week one more time..."
"A month. We've been dating almost a month now."
"Look, I don't care. Can that exist? Soulmate triangles?"
"Keith. Buddy. I know you respect me as someone who's very adept at this sort of thing, but even I don't know. It's surprising, I know. I just don't think it exists."
"But..."
A knowing tone. Keith could almost see the raised eyebrow, amused and coy. "Are you sure this is for school?"
"Yep. Bye."
"Keith, wait -"
Keith hung up before Lance could get another word in.
He kicked his socks off vehemently.
The yellow of his socks hurt him so he didn't mind when they slipped behind his desk, gone forever. He'd never known what an irritating color it could be on a headache.
Sighing, he pressed his fingers into his temples and closed his eyes, letting his mind stray from the bafflement of the colors for a few minutes at the least.
Why? Why hadn't his soulmate seen colors? Or was he really that cool he could just...not react? Keith didn't know. He looked like he could be that cool, but who want to pretend? For what reason? If he hated Keith that much, couldn't he just tell him to fuck off instead? It'd be easier. It didn't make sense not to.
Colors were supposed to be simple . You see them and boom. You fall in love.
Keith knew all about love though.
"Tomorrow, I'll ask him," he said. It was driving him crazy.
It wasn't hard to find him when you learned what to look for. Crowds.
Shiro, as Keith was finding out, was incredibly popular. This just meant he was nearly impossible to find alone . If it wasn't someone clinging to his arm, it was someone skipping alongside him or yelling across the quad for him. Each one of them seemed to be able to read Keith's mind, shielding Shiro from him.
In general, Keith tried to remain indifferent about things until proven otherwise. But there were several things Keith knew he just flat out didn't like.
The first was talking to people.
The second was large groups of people.
The third was having to talk to people who were in large groups of other people.
He followed a good distance behind Shiro, unhappily, unwillingly, but stubbornly, hoping for his chance. None came.
How could one person be so damn popular? The more he followed, the more he felt, like a thorn in his heart, that Shiro could not be his soulmate.
He was too well-loved. Too perfect. He never stopped smiling, never stopped encouraging.
It was like he was this god on earth, sent down to give peace to all these messed up humans. His goodness balanced out their mortality.
The more he watched, the more he was convinced that Shiro might actually be an angel.
He helped people with their homework, clapping him on their backs like they were his grandchildren. People came up to him asking for advice -advice on anything and everything. Family advice, relationship advice, pet advice, career advice... Keith never knew of someone he trusted enough to do any of those things. This guy was unreal. People loved him. And he loved them back.
Frustration built, and then anger.
This was all wrong.
Keith was the soot in a fire pit, the tar stuck to the bottom of a shoe, the gas leaked out of a dying vehicle.
If he reached out to Shiro, he could stain him. So, question still in his mouth, he swallowed his words down hard, and stepped back, into the shadows.
Soulmate or not, it didn't matter. Keith couldn't sully someone so good. Even he wouldn't do that.
He moped the rest of the week. He knew it'd be in his best interest to let it all blow away, let himself forget, but he couldn't. Now that he was aware of Shiro's presence, it was like Shiro was everywhere at once. Maybe he was drawn in by some magnetic pull, Keith didn't know, but suddenly, the only person he ever seemed to see was Shiro.
You couldn't miss him.
He had the best back.
Keith tried not to look, he really did, but his determination barely lasted him the first few days before he caved. He decided looking wasn't the demon here, it'd be going after Shiro and socializing . So as long as he just admired from a distance, it'd do no harm. Shiro never had to know.
Slowly, without realizing it, Keith was beginning to pick up on Shiro's mannerisms. And they were...endearing to say the least. The little toss of his shoulders when he'd shrug. The way he'd let his head fall back when he laughed really hard, or how he'd press his hands to his belly when he found something especially funny.
Keith learned that it didn't take much to make Shiro laugh. He was always ready to do it. Like a young Santa Claus or something, he was jolly and magical - a person who was born of the stars and lived somewhere magical in a faraway land.
They were rare times when Shiro would blush, but when he did, Keith found himself thankful, for once, that he could see color. He'd pull his sunglasses down and allow the sight to bombard him. Redness in Shiro's cheeks and on the tip of his nose, but the red was soft somehow. Glowing. You didn't get that in black in white. It tugged at Keith's chest painfully.
Several times, Keith had meant to go to the library or the cafeteria to study but found himself hanging around where Shiro was, watching from underneath his eyelashes, trying to be discreet. He found he cared less and less whether someone caught him looking.
His grades were beginning to suffer. Instead of studying, he stared. Instead of concentrating on the labs mid-class, he was wondering where Shiro might be. His partner was growing more and more irritated with his bullshit and was beginning to yank the bottles out of his hands roughly without preamble.
He was becoming a full-fledged stalker he realized, and it wasn't like him. This was infatuation. This was silly school-girl stuff. So what if Shiro was his soulmate? It meant nothing. He was Keith. He needed to focus.
But focusing was hard.
One typical afternoon, he was in his room, sitting at his desk and biting at the end of his pencil thinking about Shiro and those rosy cheeks when he heard his phone ring. He snatched it up without looking and answered it.
"Lance."
"Keith."
Keith watched out the window as it began to rain, slapping against his window. Big drops, but few at the moment. It was dark and it was cold and he was tired.
Keith waited for awhile and then cleared his throat, irritated. "What did you call for?"
"Oh. Nothing. Just wondering if you were alive still."
"Why does your tone make me feel like you're up to something? You're not waiting outside for a surprise visit or something, are you? You know I'll cheerfully kill you if you do that to me."
Lance heaved a long-suffering sigh. "I'm not up to anything. You just usually call me once in awhile. Like once every two weeks at least and youhaven't . I thought maybe you were dead."
"I texted you," Keith grumbled, thinking back over the past week.
"Yeah, you answered 'yes' to a question that was not a yes or no kind of question. You were no help at all. I had to call Coran ."
Keith sighed, rubbing the end of his cold nose with his hand. "Sorry. I've been buried in homework lately. I haven't been feeling sharp these past few weeks."
"Go out."
" No ."
"Right this instant. That's an order."
"I don't take orders from you."
"This is a direct order from your Lancey-Lance."
"You are not my Lancey-Lance. ...God. I can't believe you just made me say that."
"Okay, okay. Listen to me. How long have we known each other?"
"Since forever."
"A long time. A long, long, long time. I know you like the back of my hand. And listen to me when I say that you need a break. You've been smoking a lot more lately, haven't you?"
"I haven't," Keith grunted irritably.
"Look at your ashtray."
Keith pinched his nose in frustration, but his eyes slipped to the ashtray of their own volition. Dammit. How did he know?
"Am I riiighhhttt?" Lance sung lowly.
Keith breathed out bitterly. "Damn you."
"Yep. So just trust me, your ol' buddy, your ol' pal, looking out for you. Just a half hour. Go to the local cafe or something. Get yourself a coffee."
"I can't afford that."
"It's like twenty-five cents."
Keith chewed on the inside of his cheek in boredom. "I rest my case."
"Are you that lame that I really need to send you a quarter? I'll do it, you know. You won't be able to stop me."
"I think postage is like fifty cents now."
"Stop procrastinating and go . Check your mail in a few days, you cheapskate."
Keith groaned into the phone loudly for dramatic effect, but Lance had already hung up.
He let his head slam into the desk, but he knew that Lance was right. He'd been acting a bit like a nut job lately and he didn't want to sink too far into that hole. His mind was always Shiro-this and Shiro-that and it was getting ridiculous. Shiro was a person (probably), not a god (he didn't have the proof yet). He needed to get some fresh air.
So he got to his feet and shoved on his least dirty jacket, smelling it and frowning, before he walked down to the campus cafe. It was a cute little thing painted in neutrals that suited Keith's eyes just fine and arranged to be extra cozy, but it was always busy, even at weird times in the evening, so he hunched his shoulders and flipped his hoodie over his head. Like that'd actually do anything but make him look suspicious and creepy.
He felt better though and ordered himself the cheapest coffee he could. Once he kissed his quarter goodbye, he went and got his money's worth by dumping heapfuls of sugar into his cup. It was probably too much, even for him, but he had to entertain himself somehow.
He turned to head out when his eye caught the sign over the counter that said in a rainbow of colors, "Soulmate Frappuccino". Keith blinked, thrown off by the brightness of it all, when he ran face-first into something hard.
His sugar-coffee went everywhere, dousing his cleanest jacket and offending stranger in too-hot bean juice. The brick wall that Keith had run into was actually a person. A very tall, very familiar person.
"I-I'm so sorry," Keith whispered faintly, staring up at Shiro. He was even more angelic up close, the glow of his skin and the glittering of his eyes sharply apparent.
Keith scrambled. He abandoned his coffee in the trash bin and snatched up the napkins. He shoved them at Shiro's chest, who happened to be wearing a white shirt that was no longer going to be white ever again.
"I'm so sorry," Keith said again in horror.
"No problem, no problem," Shiro said soothingly, catching the napkins Keith was still jamming at him. He was smiling somehow.
But he was the only one. Keith could feel the glares on his back, animosity oozing off of every soul in the building. It was a busy place and it was filled with people, each one wanting to strangle Keith.
He had dumped coffee on their beloved.
He stumbled.
"Seriously," Shiro said gently. "I'm alright. It was my fault. I need to be more careful. Are you okay? Did it burn you?"
"I..." It was obvious that more of it had gone all over Shiro than on Keith, but his mind was too scrambled to get that out in a sentence that made sense, so he just shrugged.
"I don't think we've met before," Shiro said pleasantly, actually extending his hand in greeting. "My name's Shiro."
"I..." Keith . His name was Keith. He almost said it, but suddenly, he was scared to. This was just what he had told himself not to do. He couldn't get too close. He'd be burned by the sun.
"Sorry," he breathed, and ran, pushing past a group of Shiro's friends, always a step away.
When he got to his room, his phone beeped. He fished it out and frowned at the screen, exhausted. The bright blue was killing him; he wanted to throw up.
You're better now. I already know .
Damn Lance.
Keith typed out in a flurry, If 'better' means dumping hot coffee all over the school's golden boy and wasting a perfectly good quarter then yeah, I'm the best.
He turned off his phone before Lance could annoy him further and let himself fall face-first into his bed with an agonized groan.
As if this could get any worse. He forced himself to close his eyes and drift off into fitful sleep.
Notes:
HI. I already have this over on AO3 but I figured I'd post it here too. I dunno if it's my BROWSER or ME or WHAT but I am having problems trying to upload the thing so I am sorry if it's a huge mess. OTL This was originally a Secret Santa gift for ImpendingExodus!