A/N: This chapter has more focus on Shiro and his insecurity over his arm. I understand there is has been little interaction between Matt and Shiro so far, but this will definitely be a slow-moving relationship. In this story, Shiro and Matt are both meant to be people with a little bit of history. I didn't want them to have some instant head-over-heels moment as soon as they meet or a few days after they first meet. This isn't just some love story, rather it is more like a story about growth in which the relationship between Matt and Shiro will play a fairly large role. That being said, I am making sure Matt and Shiro do continue to have interactions, because while the story is about Shiro, Matt is also very important and will be incorporated more as he and Shiro get to know each other better. I hope you all understand.

As a side note, I wanted to thank you guys for understanding my reasons for slow updates and for sticking with the story. I just keep getting busier, and while my updates have fallen to a monthly output, they will not stop. I will continue writing, and do not plan to make my updates any less frequent than they currently are. I really do hope you guys like the story, and if you have any questions feel free to leave a comment. I will do my best to answer them as long as it won't result in spoilers for later parts of the story.


Saturday morning, Shiro went for a run again. He got up early at 6am and took to the sidewalk. With his headphones in and workout clothes on, he was off. He had worn a long-sleeve shirt like usual, but had left his black leather gloves on his dresser. It was early, so not many people would be out. It also didn't get very bright until about 7:30am, so no one would notice his grotesque right hand unless they got close and took a long look.

Beneath Shiro's feet, the sidewalk was solid and assuring. He'd woken up after another bad dream, one he couldn't quite comprehend. It felt hot, like he was on fire, but he felt no pain. All there had been was an uncomfortable tingle. His vision had been a blurry mess of red and black, flashes of light exploding in the distance. His hearing was muffled to the point that he could barely tell one sound from another. He thought he'd heard shouting and screaming, but he wasn't quite sure. It was dreams like those that he hated the most.

The crystal clear nightmares that often struck him made him jolt upright in bed, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it would burst, while the vague dreams left him confused. Sometimes he could fall asleep again after a nightmare if he laid down long enough, and other times he just closed his eyes and tried to think about something else while staying put. On the other hand, he couldn't stay in bed after a vague dream. They left him feeling disoriented and detached from his body, as if he had woken from one dream only to be inside of another. Nothing seemed to be able to ground him after one of those, not even the pain from digging his nails into the flesh of his palms and forearms, a method he used to ground himself during his more severe panic attacks. It was for that reason that he'd decided to go for a run in the first place, since the rhythm and solid ground under his feet helped to slowly pull his mind back into his body.

As time passed, Shiro was relieved to feel the fuzziness in his mind disappearing. He let out a sigh of relief when he took a short water break an hour in, finally able to think. When he started jogging again, he let his thoughts wander. It was a habit of his, letting himself go. He could jog for hours while just letting his thoughts drift, and he'd only notice his sore muscles and heaving lungs when he came to his senses at the end of it. The drifting during his runs also covered him in a blanket of calm, as his mind tended to go to the memories of flying, the few memories of skydiving, and the years before of standing on the open plane of a runway, feeling the wind slide through his bangs and tickle his scalp. The feeling of wind as he ran wasn't nearly as strong as in the skydiving memories or as serene as standing on a runway, but it was enough to at least call the wisps of the memories to the surface of his mind. Those memories were the things he loved in a world that seemed to hate him.

As the sun rose above the horizon and the world began to be illuminated, Shiro turned in the direction of his dorm. He was going a bit slower than before, doing the end of his run as a cooldown, but had to change course a few time to avoid the other students who slowly began to fill the sidewalks. When he saw someone coming on his sidewalk, he'd veer off onto another and move back on course after he passed them. By the time he reached his building, morning classes were starting, and the students were leaving their dorms and heading off with coffee cups and energy drinks in hand.

Shiro narrowly avoided running into one of the guys who lived next door when he passed the guy's door just as he was leaving his room. Shiro called out a quiet apology and pretended to scratch his left shoulder with his right hand as he stuck his key in his lock with his left hand, hoping his neighbor wouldn't look back and see his exposed right hand.

When he entered his dorm, Shiro quickly pulled the door shut behind himself to separate himself from the world. He slumped against the door and let out the breath he'd been holding since he came upon his building and found the outside crawling with students. His right hand twitched at his side and he clenched it into a fist, conscious of the fact that anyone could have seen it. A look at his phone revealed that it was 8:30am, half an hour later than he'd planned to be out. He cursed himself for not paying better attention to the time, especially when he wasn't wearing his gloves.

Needing to calm down a little after the close encounter with his neighbor, Shiro looked for Eurus. The cat was asleep in the middle of his unmade bed, and she yawned and looked up when Shiro called her. Shiro smiled and scratched her chin, then ran his hand over the silky fur around her ears to flatten what stuck up from her nap.

Eurus purred and leaned into Shiro's hand, then turned her head to sniff him. She quickly recoiled and gave Shiro an annoyed look that made him smile.

"I guess I should probably take a shower," he said, catching the hint. Eurus proceeded to lay her head back down on the bed and close her eyes, a clear end to the conversation that made Shiro shake his head and smirk.

'Wow Shiro, no wonder no one likes you. Even your cat just rejected you,' he thought to himself. It was a lighthearted joke to himself, because he knew that Eurus did in fact like him, she just did not enjoy his presence when he was smelly and drenched in sweat from a run. However, the more he thought about it, the more it was true a thought to seem very funny.

A cold feeling blossomed in Shiro's chest and the smile slipped from his face as he dug around his dresser for some fresh clothes. He balled the clothes up in his hands and headed for the bathroom, giving Eurus a small smile when he noticed that she was watching him, perceptive of his emotions as always.

Shiro showered quickly, a habit he'd made in the military and never quite kicked. He scrubbed his hair and washed up in just three minutes, then emerged from the bathroom two minutes later with his poof of white hair combed and fresh clothes on; his dirty ones were left in a hamper in the corner of his room.

Shiro stood next to his dresser and glanced at his phone as he used a hand towel to carefully wipe away extra water from his right arm. The metal wouldn't rust even if he didn't; it would have to be submerged in water for weeks straight for that to happen at all, but the better he took care of it, the less he'd have to worry about pieces being compromised and needing replacements. His arm was already an experimental mix of flesh and a metal prosthetic, something that had been done in an attempt to allow him to keep full function of his right arm instead of losing what remained and getting a prosthetic that he wouldn't be able to move like a flesh limb. It made Shiro's life easier, since he could do all of the things he had always done with his right hand, but the mix of skin and metal stood out more than a prosthetic and he was very conscious of it. In the past, he never would have thought he'd have any insecurities past wondering if his flying skills were good enough for his rank. He never would have guessed that he would be wearing long sleeves and leather gloves every day to hide an entire limb from sight.

Shiro dropped his hand towel on his dresser when he finished drying his arm, then, still uneasy from the events of his early morning, pulled on a long-sleeved shirt and his familiar leather gloves to cover his arm.

Lacking anything productive to do over his weekend, Shiro flopped face-down on his bed and pulled out his phone. He had downloaded a movie a few days earlier but never had the time to watch it due to his classes. Since he finally had a day to kill, he pulled it up, turning up his volume loud enough to hear the audio clearly. He would have preferred to watch the movie on a bigger screen, but his laptop was a no go, so his phone would have to do.

A few minutes into the movie, Shiro felt a weight on his back between his shoulder blades and turned around to see Eurus standing on him. She kneaded the spot with her paws for a moment before laying down and licking her shoulder contentedly. Shiro smiled at the sight before turning back to his movie.

-000-

After two and a half hours of bad jokes, zombies, and dramatic reunions, the credits rolled on the screen of Shiro's phone. He closed the tab and returned to his home screen, which was a random picture of a sleek jet. The sight always set a pang of longing through him as he remembered his own jet, but he couldn't quite bring himself to change it. Other than the memories of his team and flying, the only important things he had in the world were Eurus and Keith, but his brother hated pictures. The only way Shiro had managed to get any was by sneaking them, and they tended to end up blurry. One of the few good ones he had was his lock screen, a picture of Keith asleep on the couch back home, cuddled up with Eurus. It always made Shiro smile, even on his worst days, though he had to switch the picture at home in case Keith picked up his phone because he knew the boy would delete it.

Checking his messages, Shiro found none from Keith. His brother had called him every few nights and sent a few texts during the day since Shiro left for college, but for the most part he was busy with school and work. Keith was in his senior year of high school and bused tables at a local family restaurant. In Shiro's absence he was looked after by his friend Lance McClain, a barista at the coffee shop next to the restaurant who Keith claimed to hate despite them being friends. However, Shiro had seen them in the time when they weren't arguing over something stupid like who could clean dishes the fastest, and he knew there was no true hate between them. The two were closer than Shiro had ever been with anyone, and Lance was a good guy. If not for the fact that Keith was too dense to recognize any emotions but anger and annoyance from others, and the fact that Lance had crushing insecurities that made him think he wasn't good enough for anyone, the two would be totally inseparable.

With a deep breath, Shiro pushed himself upright to sit on his bed, and Eurus jumped off his back as he started to rise to avoid falling. She let out an annoyed meow and Shiro reached out to pet her apologetically before checking the time. It was almost noon and he'd hadn't had breakfast, but he didn't feel comfortable about leaving his room again yet. However, he didn't have a microwave or any pans for cooking on the stove in his dorm, let alone anything to cook. The minifridge in the kitchen was empty except for an untouched bottle of whiskey and some bottled water, and his cupboard contained nothing but a box of granola bars. Shiro cringed when he spotted the whiskey in the refrigerator, and he shut the door quickly. He wasn't much of an alcohol person, but sometimes he needed it when he was a little to stressed or when the nightmares wouldn't let him sleep without some help.

Knowing that actual food wouldn't appear on the counter no matter how long he stared at it, Shiro returned to his bedroom for his ID and phone. He stopped in the other room to feed Eurus and glanced at his hands and rubbed his fingers together to assure himself through visual, audio, and somatosensory confirmation that he really was wearing his gloves, then headed out to get food from the cafeteria.