Utopia Incarnate

I feel as if the world is ending.
Three oneshots in a single week. I might be dying.

Hopefully this train keeps going for my inspiration.
I do plan to do a more developed relationship next time, but I might have to take a few days break. I've been attached to this computer for hours on my free time.

Please excuse the mess. I didn't proof-read it beforehand very well. I will update it as I re-read it.

"...Where is it...?"

Keith opened up his closet after hastily closing the bottom drawer of his dresser. He dragged out his things haphazardly, tossing scraps of his belongings behind him.

After nearly searching his closet from top to bottom, he lightly growled in frustration. "Where the hell is it...?" Leaving his things strewn on the floor, he would pick it up later. He himself was rather cold, but the excursion of his own body heat from running around the house made him warmer. "Shit..." He dashed downstairs, nearly sprinting over to the body that lay on his couch. The same could not be said for Pico.

After coming back from their long trek home, he was still completely passed out. What was worse, he was starting to involuntarily shiver from the cold outside. At first, Keith thought that the ginger was waking up during their walk. Although, he figured out that wasn't the case. His body temperature was dropping pretty quickly. He tried his best to huddle his body closer to his torso to protect against the biting winds as best as he could.

By the time Keith got his front door open, Pico was nearly blue at the lips. His thin frame did little to help absorb any warmth that the blue boy provided. He rushed over to his sofa to lay him down, his head propped up on the arm of the chair. Keith dashed around the living room to pull any and all throws and blankets he could find, only two, and strewn them on the chilled ginger boy. The taller male ran up the stairs in search for more warmth he could provide.

Hypothermia was a risk at this point, he thought. Pico was freezing in comparison to Keith, even though he was wearing a turtleneck sweater verses his short-sleeved shirt. He could feel the difference just from holding him. He felt like he was holding an ice cube in those bitter winds. The temperature was dropping, and today seemed to be colder than usual for a fall day in October.

He found nothing after pulling all the drawers he had from his room and checking his closet for that one blanket he was on the lookout for. His worry was getting the better of him as he ran back downstairs to check on the still guest in his home. Keith placed the back of his hand on a thin cheek, rolling down to place his palm on the freckled neck. Being wrapped in two blankets wasn't doing much to warm him in his current condition. He was too thin, not enough fat to absorb any warmth, still cold to the touch. "Damn it..." the aquamarine male spoke softly, pulling his hand away from the still-freezing skin.

Keith turned back to look around, in case he forgot any particular place he could find some more blankets. Blinking in realization, he nearly hit himself. The hallway closet! Nearly sprinting out of the room and into the foyer, he skidded to a stop in front of the hall closet door. Yanking it open, he glanced upwards above the hanging coats and jackets. His parents always had spare blankets and throws folded neatly on the racks above the coat-hangers.

What really caught his attention was that single, red, wired blanket. How could he forget that his only favorite heating blanket was in the hall closet? He was looking for that old thing this whole time. He rarely used it and had it for years. He hoped that it still worked.

Standing on his toes, he reached up and snatched at the folded blanket. A white wire fell with it almost clocking him in the face as it hit the floor with a clattered sound. Looking around to make sure nothing else could have fallen, Keith leaned down to pick up the cable, looking it over to make sure that it was the same one that worked with that blanket. On the wire, it had a squared section dedicated to the controls of the heated settings. An on and off switch, and a dial to control the level of heat from one to ten. A smile lit the aqua haired males face, as he shut the door to jog back to his guest with the findings.

To prevent the other boy from overheating, he decided to remove the other two throws he placed on Pico. He was as still as ever, never moved an inch since being placed on the sofa. Worried dark brows furrowed, as he folded the throws over the top of the sofa. He quickly unfolded the red blanket, feeling the small metal wires that were sewn into the fabric to disperse the heat properly. Keith nearly wrapped Pico completely up in that blanket, only his head was left out. Taking the white wire that stuck out of the corner of the red sheet, he found a nearby plug behind one of the cocktail tables and quickly reached back and plugged it in.

Keith's attention went straight to the control box attached to the cable. He placed it on the table itself and turned the heat on, changing the dial up to a ten immediately. It will take a moment to fully heat up, and chances are that Pico will need that warmth. Looking back at the silent male, he was still extremely pale, blue beginning to fade from his lips at least but still quite visible. He didn't even know if this heating blanket even worked anymore, he has had it for years and rarely used it. He remembers the last time he did was back in elementary school when he brought it to a sleepover with Darnell at his house. The other kids' home was always cold since his parents liked the air conditioning on, even in the winter.

Keith stood and walked over to the resting kid and placed his hand on his chest on top of the blanket. A curt frown formed on his face, as he felt the gentle and soft beating of the others heart through the fabric. Luckily, he could feel the metal bits in the sheet starting to heat up under his palm. It seemed this old blanket still worked after all of these years. Hopefully, this will help warm up the other male.

Pulling away, the blue boy turned towards the coffee table in front of the couch. He grabbed the remote from the glass table and pressed the power to the television. He always hated his home being so quiet. For most of his life he has known his living room to have that consistent buzz of the television on at all times. Even if no one was watching it. It was rather unsettling to have nothing but silence in this home. He changed the channel to some dumb documentary about animals, lowering the volume to a gentle hum, and dropped the remote back on the table. He didn't want to disturb Pico from his sleep, but he was certain that even an earthquake wouldn't wake him at this point.

The lights and colors from the television lit up the room with a static glow. He forgot to turn on any lights while busting in from outside. He was so intent on getting Pico secured he didn't even bother flicking any switches on. His gaze traveled back from the program on the screen to the couch once again. He looked so ethereal as his face was aglow from the flickering colors of the television. The blue on his lips was nearly gone as he rested with a peaceful gesture. If it wasn't for those bags under his eyes, he would have looked like he was just taking a nap.

Emerald irises disappeared behind closed lids as Keith shook his head to break the trance. He needed to get him some food. The thought graced his mind, as he looked back at the glow of the TV to distract himself. How could he forget? That image of the near starving figure as he lifted that green sweater in curiosity of his condition. The literal skin and bones of his ribcage protruding from his stomach was burned into his subconscious.

Keith has never seen the other boy eat, other than a small few bites of his sandwich in the library. What kind of food would he like? He didn't want to make something that he wouldn't enjoy. What if he had allergies. He never specified if he was allergic to anything when he questioned him from before. Well, he didn't actually answer the question at all, but still. He didn't want to put the other male in any further danger than he already was.

Giving another glance back at the orange-haired male on the couch, Keith made his way into the kitchen. Walking over to the fridge, he placed his hand on the handle of the older model two door refrigerator. The ones where the top freezer section was a third of the size of the actual larger portion below. He turned his head to look over at his right, the kitchen was nearly attached to his living room. He could clearly see Pico from where he stood, only separated by the loveseat that crowded around the television.

Taking his attention back to the task at hand, he pulled open the fridges larger door and leaned down to look for something to eat. Keith wasn't hungry in the slightest, he just had lunch an hour ago at school. His fridge was packed with the usual contents one could expect. Milk, eggs, cheese slices... leftovers from last night packed away in plastic containers. Juice boxes and sodas lined the top shelf. Glancing down, drawers at the bottom held various fruits and vegetables. Another drawer right next to it held lunch meats and packaged refrigerated goods. Condiments lined the doors shelving unit, nothing out of the ordinary.

"Hmm..." the blue-haired male hummed quietly, not really seeing anything appetizing at an immediate glance. He was still a "teenager" and couldn't cook an elaborate meal worth a damn anyway. Simplistic meals were his go to, after all. His parents tended to cook or bring home meals from fast food restaurants.

Shutting the door, he reached up to the freezer section and opened it to see in the cold depths of the fridge. Frozen packaged meals were stacked neatly on the small shelves. Stouffer's single packs and various different kind of foods and uncooked meats caught his eye. All easy to make, just stick in the microwave. He didn't think that would appeal to the ginger, though.

It was a small freezer, but one thing did manage to catch his eye. It was Friday after all, and a Digiorno pizza was just visible underneath all of the other packaged kits. No one could say "no" to a pizza. "Ha!" Keith nearly shouted in victory, as he reached in to pull out the pizza box. It looked a little freezer-burned, but it still should be good. He had no idea that this was even in the fridge, as many times as he would lazily scan his kitchen for a small snack during his long weekends.

It was a simple cheese pizza. Nothing fancy, except he noticed that this was the thin crust. Keith rolled his eyes, no wonder why this was left in here for God knows how long. He wondered which parent decided to pick this up at the grocery store. Who wants paper-thin crusts on their pizza? It was probably on sale. His mother was known to buy things that no one would eat as long as it had a sale sticker attached.

Flipping the box over on his electric stove, he haphazardly glanced at the instructions and set the stove to 400 degrees. While that heated, he searched his kitchen cabinets for a pizza plate. After opening up the fourth bottom drawer he found the large black circular pan on its side. He pulled it out and placed it on the counter and begun to open the pizza box.

"Aw, oops...!" Keith spoke out-loud quietly. He jogged over to the kitchen sink, nearly forgetting a really important rule that he usually skimped out on. Turning the water on warm, he grabbed the dawn dish soap and poured a little bit onto his hands to begin washing them. He never really cared about his own food intake and wasn't scared of germs or bacteria. Normally, he would just skip the process of washing his hands, as disgusting as one can visualize, he didn't care as long as he was the only one hurting himself. This time, he is cooking for another person, and care must be taken. He was certain that a mere common cold could probably kill the scrawny kid on his couch. Not that he would ever say that out loud, he just wanted to be more careful in the presence of another person. Even if that person was currently blacked out on his sofa.

Once he deemed his hands fully cleaned and rinsed, Keith grabbed a spare paper towel from the disposal and used his elbow to turn off the water. He tossed the used paper towel in the trash on the way back to the stove and proceeded to unbox the sealed pizza.

Looking at it, yeah it was a little freezer burned. He could see the distinctive crusts of ice that gathered at the corner of one side of the thin crusted pizza. He hoped that it wouldn't disrupt the flavor at least. He used his hands to rip off the plastic wrap and placed the frozen circle on the black pan in preparation. This is one thing he can make without guidance, at least. He was probably going to be helpless when college comes around and he has to fend for himself. Oh well, he'll learn the hard way, he guesses.

His stove beeped twice, signaling that the temperature was readily set at 400 degrees. Pulling down the stove door, he grabbed the pan and slid it into the heated oven, closing it with a gentle slam. Keith set a timer on the stove to go off in about sixteen minutes, as the box recommended. Now, all he had to do was wait. Lightning blue locks jostled lightly as he made his way back to the living room to check on his still immobile guest.

Keith stood in front of the couch, leaning down to get a better look at Pico's condition. He placed a hand back on his chest, the blanket doing its work and was rather warm to the touch. It wasn't overbearingly hot, but just a comfortable warmth that radiated from the red sheet. Green eyes looked over his complexion. He was still very pale, but some color was coming back to his face, much better than before. His lips were no longer blue and held a tinted pink instead. His breathing seemed to have improved slightly, as before he was barely taking in a breath every five seconds. Now, his chest was rising and falling in a near consistent motion.

Removing his hand from his chest, Keith reached up to his neck. He tilted his head towards him to make enough room from his craned neck on the arm of the couch. He pulled down the neck of his sweater a bit and pressed two fingers against that freckled skin once again. Sage irises focused on the closed eyelids of the other man and started to count quietly. The pulse from before felt weak and slow. After a moment of counting, he could tell that his heart beat a little stronger than before. His rate was still slower than normal for a resting person, but the warmth seemed to be doing him some good. He knew that something to eat would do him worlds better.

Releasing the ginger, he sighed softly. Walking over to the control box for the blanket, he lowered the number from a ten to an eight, just in case the other would get overheated too quickly. Giving another look over his passed-out guest, he did a once over in the living room. Spotting a few small couch pillows on the loveseat, he felt foolish for just tossing him without care onto his couch. His neck would probably be killing him when he woke up.

Taking the time to walk over and grab a soft pillow, he made his way back to Pico and knelt down next to him. He curled his arm around the other man and pulled him to sit up slightly, just enough room to slide the toss pillow between him and the arm of the couch. Being as gentle as possible, Keith lowered his head onto the cushion, hoping that he was comfortable. He was never put through the test of being a good host. Most of the time, Darnell wouldn't care. They treated each other's house like a second home.

Deciding that there was not much else he could do, Keith turned to head towards the loveseat just across from the sofa, the coffee table separating them. He flopped himself onto the couch, his decency out the window. He was a teenage boy and sat like one too. His lower back was pressed against the arm farthest away from the television, as his left arm lined the top of the sofa. A cheek was held by his fist, elbow resting on the arm of the chair he leaned against. His right foot was pressed against the edge of the coffee table as the other was kicked out above the other arm of the sofa. His height was a not accommodating for this chair in the slightest. Normally, he would be seated over on the larger three seated sofa.

However, that was currently taken by a particular orange-haired individual. Not that it bothered him. In fact, he was glad that he was able to help him in some way.

Keith tried his best to focus on the boring screen of a narrator explaining the hunting patterns of crocodiles. Listening to the idle rantings of the monotone faceless speaker go on, as the visuals shown the predator managing to snatch at a zebra crossing the river. The taller male couldn't help but to move his gaze, slowly, over to the other couch. Just like in school, he couldn't stop staring.

It's not like he has ever seen another ginger kid before. There were plenty of other students with orange hair and freckles. There was nothing strikingly different about him. He looked just like any other teenage boy in school. Maybe it was the outfit that he always wore. He vaguely wondered if he only wore one pair of clothing or if he had multiple of the same color turtlenecks and pants.

Keith knew that it had nothing to do with his attire. No.

What really did make him constantly stare at the other male? Was it the obvious ways that the other students and teachers in school treated him? Like he was a contaminant in their classes and hallways? He still couldn't understand what everyone's deal was about that. He did nothing wrong. He wasn't the type of kid to go around and cause problems. Hell, he never even spoke a word whenever the blue boy was in his presence until he was forced to in the library. That encounter, as little progress as Keith thought he made, spoke volumes to him. It was clear that something was wrong.

Perhaps not with the school, but with Pico himself.

The more he thought about it, the more and less it made sense. The library encounter was sporadic. It caught the smaller male completely off guard. That was probably why Keith was able to speak to him at all. He was certain if the other male saw him coming, he would have disappeared as soon as the opportunity arose. He didn't know if that was sad or alarming.

What made it more confusing was that Keith was certain that he would have tried to hide back in the confines of the library at least once during the remainder of this week. Every single day, since Monday, he actively avoided going back. Maybe it was a pattern? Perhaps he never noticed it, but every Monday he would go to the library? He was a man of consistency, after all. He never paid any close attention to what days, during the month, he was absent from the cafeteria. He should have noticed something sooner.

He should have noticed that something was wrong from the start of their encounter. He should have noticed the slight bags under his eyes on that day in the library. He should have noticed how he barely ate anything, especially since it was blatant in the daily routine of never bringing a lunch. He should have noticed how he spoke back to Keith. With as little words he had said, it was still jarring.

"You're not real..." Was the first words he ever spoke to the taller male.

What could that have meant? Did he think that Keith was playing a prank on him? No. That couldn't be. A normal person's reaction wouldn't sound so sincere like Pico's had. He spoke that phrase with a startling sense of unease and confidence all at once. Maybe that was why he was so taken aback by it.

Pico truly believed that Keith wasn't real at first.

He seemed almost terrified at the thought that Keith could be real at all. It didn't make sense. Why would he think that?

He just cropped it up to just isolation issues from before. However, the second thing he ever said to him was a defensive statement. Almost like he realized that Keith was real and was terrorized by the idea that he was actually there. He had to make the other guy give him a handshake in order to help convince him that he wasn't a figment of his imagination.

Keith's gaze squinted at that thought, as he peered over the others lifeless form.

"...There's no way..." the aqua-haired male spoke softly, an eyebrow raising in question as he looked closely at those closed lids.

Did Pico actually think that...- BEEEEEEP!

"AH!" Keith practically jumped out of his seat at the sudden ear-piercing noise that rang through the house. His foot slid off of the coffee table, as it threw his balance forward as he had to reach out to grab the same object to keep from falling to the floor. Leaping to his feet, Keith turned to face the culprit of the sound, and realized it was the alarm for the pizza in the oven.

He raised a hand to his chest to help calm his racing heart, closing his eyes to focus and letting out a sigh in relief. Gathering himself as quickly as one can, green eyes opened once again, as he made his way to the stove and turned off the alarm. Normally, when he was hungry, sixteen minutes would feel like ages. This time, it flew by so fast when he wasn't paying any attention.

Pulling the stove door down, he took a glance at the pizza. The cheese was a little blackened on the bare tops of the pizza, but overall, it looked ready to eat. Keith looked around and snatched at the nearest oven mitt and pulled the scorching pan out and on top of the glass stove top. Reaching up, he shut off the oven.

It smelled good, even though he wasn't hungry. Going up in the cabinets, Keith pulled out two plates. The clanking of them hitting together and placing them sounded too loud in the quiet kitchen, as he separated it on the counter. He went straight for the drawer containing the pizza cutter. Knowing its location based off of memory from before when his parents told him to grab it whenever they would bring home one from a pizzeria.

Grabbing the mitt again, he held the plate in place as he cut the pizza into slices. He did a mediocre job, not perfect, but good enough to distinguish semi-perfect slices. He used the cutter itself to curl under the crusts of one of the slices and lifted it up to slide the plate between it. He tossed the oven mitt aside and managed to pull a slice onto the plate successfully.

Keith did the same thing to the other plate, only with two slices this time. He may not have been hungry, but he could always go for pizza and usually ate two slices with ease, even after a full-course meal. Pico, on the other hand, can maybe eat a single slice if he was lucky. He doesn't know any starving people, but he knows that one can't just eat a ton of food in one sitting and get magically better. Chances are that the ginger male can get sick after just having one piece of pizza. It was all he had, though. Better to eat something rather than nothing, right?

Lime green eyes looked back up at the stove clock. 1:54 it read in bright blue digits. He knew that he wasn't supposed to eat in the living room. His parents were rather sticklers about eating on the couches. Normally, he would eat on the kitchen table. Today, there would be an exception. Keith's parents wouldn't be home for another three hours at best. A slight jolt of fear bursts through his chest at the thought of getting caught. He committed some rather heinous crimes today. Playing hooky from school in the middle of the day during lunch. He practically kidnapped another student and brought him home. What was worse, all in Keith's mind, he was about to eat on the sofa.

The morality of the situation weighed heavily in his thoughts. He did what he thought was right. Pico looked like he was going to kill over at school. What would have happened if he just left him there on the school lunch tables. Would he have ever been found? Would teachers or other students even care to check on him at all? No one in the entire cafeteria even noticed that he was passed out to begin with. As ridiculous as it all seemed, he was certain that someone would have helped, or called an ambulance at least. Of course, they would have helped him.

The loner ginger who was completely ignored by all other fellow classmates and teachers. The kid who was ostracized by the entire campus. The possible victim of a school catastrophe that was dragged around by governmental agencies until he turns eighteen and then let loose into a cruel and unforgiving world. Someone should have helped him, right?

Keith blinked, trying to erase the negative thoughts that began to droop into his mind. Grabbing both plates, he began to make is way back into the living room. Sage irises bore onto those incredible eyes locked away behind closed lids. Stopping in front of the occupied couch, Keith placed both plates onto the table to free his hands.

Someone did help him.

~ O ~

Warmth.

Heat surrounded his entire body in a comforting way. He felt like he was being coddled. A weight of something was all over him, not in an overbearing way. He didn't feel like he was being crushed. There was no fear. No sense of urgency to run or escape the torments of his everyday life.

Was he dead?

It seemed so impossible to think. Ever since that horrid day that changed his life, he thought he would never get the chance to live normally again. Before, he was a normal child. He had ambitions, dreams, and hobbies. He was an average teenager. Going through his fits of depression and change in embarrassing ways during his preteen years just like everyone else. The only sounds or visions he would get would be conjured by his imagination as a child. He thought he grew out of them as he got older. All were positive memories.

Ever since that nightmare at his previous school, nothing was the same. His condition was getting worse as time went on. The sounds and voices were becoming more vivid and real, getting harder to distinguish them from reality. They came crashing into his mind every day. These shadowed creatures would haunt him, sometimes flashing across his vision as if to taunt and torment him. The voices were the worst of all. He could always close his eyes. If darkness surrounded him, those shadows couldn't get him. If he couldn't see them, they can't hurt him.

The sounds were another issue entirely. He couldn't shut off his hearing as easily as he could blink. He tried to place his hands over his ears to try and block out the sounds, but they were not buffered out at all. It seemed as if he had a speaker in his head that could play at any time with these voices. They were coming from his mind, no matter how much he would try and block out the sounds it was as loud as ever. They were getting clamorous and much more difficult to ignore. It was all still hushed whispers and noises. Never any completed words or full sentences. The only one who ever managed to successfully blend into his reality was Keith.

Pico found out quickly the impact the blue-haired boy had onto his psyche. It felt like a switch was flicked when he was around. No more whispers. No more visions. It was a state of bliss that he was initially terrified of at first. He thought that Keith was a complete hallucinated person that he conjured up from his trauma. If he fell for that, he knew that he would be giving into his schizophrenia. The condition would win, and he would be completely lost from reality. He would lose grip on the bearings of this existence.

That day at the library was a startling wake up call for Pico. Keith is real. Those gentle green eyes were confident, kind and caring. Unlike those horrendous creatures that would try and grab him, Keith reached out with a gentle and warm grasp. It wasn't cold, or inconsiderate. His voice was a bit of a higher pitch than his own raspy one, but still echoed with a softness that he could only describe as empathetic.

Pico thought of him as a salvation. A euphoria that bombarded his senses giving relief from his daily struggles. Keith was clueless on the impact he had on his person. He didn't want that to disappear. The dread of chasing him away from the bare moments of peace he managed to get was overwhelming. Just being in the same room was immensely helpful, even if he wasn't saying or doing anything. Him just being there was enough. His presence, alone, brought a wonderful sense of peace that he remembered fondly before the massacre took place.

His senses were starting to come back, just like before. This time, it was beginning in a different pattern. He was in a blissful sleep. To his surprise, he was not dead. Pico didn't know whether or not to feel upset or happy at that thought. If he were dead, he wouldn't have to deal with with those horrid sounds and visuals on a daily basis. However, he would lose the chance to experience life. Those moments of peace that were brought on by a single person.

Other than the feelings of warmth, scent caught his nose first this time. It made his stomach churn in slight nausea at the smell of food. He wasn't completely sure what he was smelling, but it was a mixture of different things put together, it wasn't a putrid odor. Hunger barely registered as his mind overrode his body's need for sustenance. He told himself that he wasn't worth it. He wasn't hungry. The visions would prevent him from eating anyway and the sounds would laugh at his misery.

The bleeding sound of a television buzz was prominent in the background. Pico hardly recognized it, just thinking it was the voices from before trying to torment him. It took him a moment to conjure up his sense of hearing with it on. Once his mind was focused, he started to hear the familiar hushes blending into the static.

His conscious was coming back to him. He was almost too scared to open his eyes, wishing that he could lay dormant just for a few moments longer...

~ O ~

Keith gently decided to place a hand onto Pico's shoulder as he lay. "Pico...?" He spoke softly, trying not to startle him too much. The larger male knew that when he was stirred awake, he could hardly focus, jerking up from the startle and nearly clobbering whoever woke him with his flailing body. All unintentional, of course.

The blanket was hot, only from Keith's perspective. He just came from the kitchen and dealt with a heated oven and was already comfortably warm beforehand. He didn't know if the orange-haired male felt uncomfortable, but he didn't want to alter any settings in case he would be freezing again.

With no signs of stirring were felt, Keith gave a firm but gentle shake on his shoulder. "Pico... Wake up, man..." He spoke a little louder. No reaction at all. The blue boy didn't want his food to be cold. Mostly, he wanted him to eat something. He needed more fat on those bones.

A small frown form on the aqua-haired males face. He decided to try and force the other to sit up. When it came to an alteration in one's body position, it might trick the brain into getting him to wake. That was a sure-fire way to get Keith up. His father would, literally, drag him out of bed on some school mornings to make him start moving. He would wake up with sluggish movement, but at least he would be awake.

He didn't want to be as forceful as his dad, but he had to try something. Keith slid his arm underneath the other man's torso, pulling him to a seated position. He had to press his own chest onto his front to keep him from falling forward as his head flopped down. Keith's strong shoulder caught the others chin as he leaned in to prevent the painful position his neck could have been in. He maneuvered his body to lean back against the couch in a more relaxed seated position, his legs now hanging off the couch instead of on it. The blanket was shuffled down to his abdomen, bunching up there.

Leaning back, Keith tried again to stir him awake. Just before he was going to grab his shoulders, he noticed a slight shift. To keep him steady, the taller male held onto his upper arms lightly. Looking into that thin face, he saw the others eyelids scrunch up a bit, his lips frowning in what looked to be a pained grimace. What greeted him was a lidded gaze of those incredible eyes once again. Now that he was closer and on eye level, it was easier to see that outlined iris of those impossibly pearl-colored eyes.

"Hey there..." Keith spoke with a light smile in relief.

Those orange hued eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, as he blinked slowly at the lightning blue haired boy.

~ O ~

His entire body was shifted, and a soft sound of shuffling filled his ears. If he listened closely, he could make out someone calling his name. The whispers that were building seemed to fade with every call out to him. His sense of smell was filled with that familiar scent of cologne that he couldn't identify, just like before. It vanished as quickly as it came, causing more of the radiant silence to fill his being once again.

When his back hit the softness of a cushion, he was finally stirred. Slowly, he opened his eyes. He was expecting to see the horrors of those shadows trying to get him as soon as he would wake. However, what greeted him was nothing short of rapture.

Blurred vision of colors and shapes, nearly ethereal in his sight from the glow of a television behind the figure before him. Even though it was a little dark, he could clearly make out the man before him. The only light in the room was from the windows, bringing out that familiar bright blue hair and comforting emerald eyes.

That familiar, yet affable, phrase filled his ears with tranquility. This couldn't be real. It shouldn't be real. Pico scrunched his eyes shut, he half-attempted to lift his arms feeling like lead weights attached to them. He gave up when his fingers could only twitch in response. When he opened his eyes once again, he realized that Keith was holding his arms lightly. That grounded him to earth. Looking back up at those glittering emeralds, he took in a shuddered gasp before letting out a shallow breath to make sure he was still alive.

"K-Ke-ith...?" Was the only word he could muster. His voice was shaky and raspy as if he had just woken from a coma. The word made his lips tingle from the vibrations of his throat speaking so softly. There was no fear this time. No sense of needing to run and escape from whatever was chasing or tormenting him. Nothing was there to panic over. There were no voices. No shadows clawing for him. It was just Keith.

Pico swallowed down the saliva that built on his tongue out of nervousness. Please let this be real...

~ O ~

Keith smiled wider at the response. He wasn't used to his home being so quiet. The sounds of someone finally saying something made his heart jump a little. "Hey, dude... Finally awake sleeping beauty? I thought you would never wake up." He said softly, before tossing a light joke to help break the ice better.

The blue boy noticed the other man's eyebrows raise at the statement. For the first time that day, color danced across his face. The light pink hue of a blush tinted behind those freckles on his nose and cheeks. It made him look more alive, instead of the pasty paleness that usually accommodated his face. He didn't bring any unnecessary attention to embarrass him further and changed the subject quickly. "I made us some pizza. You hungry?"

Pico didn't respond with a verbal or physical reply as Keith automatically assumed the answer to be a yes. Releasing the other man, he turned back to grab at the plates of food handing the one with the single small piece out for him to take.

The smaller male looked down at the thin slice that adorned the white ceramic plate. Blinking slowly, he moved his gaze from the food to the bright blue haired boy. He tried to brush away his blush as best as he could and shifted his shoulders up nervously. He wasn't really hungry at all.

Near black brows furrowed in worry, "What's wrong? You don't like pizza?" Keith stated like it was a taboo sentence. He has never seen anyone forgo a pizza before. Even if it was thin sliced.

Pico's eyes widened with shock, only for a moment, his body shook as if he was electrocuted for a second. That jolt even took Keith aback, he didn't mean to scare him. Those incredible eyes glanced between his own and the plate twice before locking onto the thin food.

A slight movement was made under the heated blanket. What emerged were those ghostly colored thin hands, but they had a small tint of pink at least. Probably from the heated blanket producing too much warmth onto his limbs. He shakily grabbed the plate with both hands, but Keith still held onto the other side with his to make sure he wouldn't drop it. He could feel the majority of the weight of the ceramic plate on his side, he didn't want to make a mess that he would have to explain to his parents.

"You got it?" Keith asked, forcing that pearl gaze up towards his own once again. "Here, I'll place it on your lap, ok?" He said as he lowered the plate onto the red blanket that was bunched near his stomach, his own quivering hands following the motion. Those same incredible irises watched as the plate descended.

Once it was placed, Pico looked back up at him still as speechless as ever. Keith finally let go and gave a curt smile back and grabbed his own plate. He managed to scoot his way between Pico and the couch arm that he laid against, getting himself comfortable, that ghostly gaze following closely. With how large this couch was, they were practically pressed against each other at the corner nearest to the television. "Try not to spill it, ok? I'm not allowed to eat in here, but my parents aren't home yet. What they don't know won't hurt them, right?"

Keith placed his own plate on the couch arm, about to pick up a slice to enjoy. Although, a glance over to his left saw that pale gaze never left him. They sat there, almost staring each other down, until Keith lifted a brow back and tilted his head curiously. Pico flinched at that, almost just noticing that they were staring at each other for a couple of unbroken seconds. His thin shoulders raised by his ears as wide eyes glanced over to his left, an aura of shyness enveloping him. Keith noticed the flush of color back on his face once again, those freckles standing out. He couldn't contain a small smile to form at the small act.

"Th-Thank you..."

Green eyes widened, themselves, at the low sound of gratitude that came from the other male. He did not expect that, surprisingly. "You're welcome, dude. Now hurry and eat before your food gets cold. There is more on the stove if you want some." He spoke softly, decided to finally dig into his thin crusted pizza. He tried his best to keep his eyes glued to the television program.

It was hard to focus with the warmth radiating from the other man. It wasn't uncomfortable at all. It was just a poking presence. It took everything he had to keep him from looking back at the ginger. Thoughts began to creep into his mind. Was he comfortable? Was he too hot with the heating blanket on? It was still set to an eight, he could lower it if he was too hot. The heat was radiating from him, but he was so cold from earlier, he was probably enjoying it.

~ O ~

Pico swallowed thickly, trying to shake the blush from his face. He couldn't believe he was caught staring like that. What was wrong with him? He could be a little more grateful at least for the hospitality. His mind was just so clear. He kept thinking that he was dreaming. There was no way he was feeling like this. No voices. No visions. The warmth that radiated from the blanket he had on was real. He could clearly smell the cologne from the other man nearly pressed against his side. Was it Axe body spray? He may never know. Looking around, he could have sat somewhere else. He could have just left him in that cafeteria. He didn't though.

He was rescued.

This paradise seemed unreal. He wasn't being harassed by those jeering voices or chased by those shadowed figures. He actually managed to rest peacefully, even though he hardly remembers passing out. He had better enjoy this while he has the opportunity. Keith wouldn't stick around forever, and as soon as his presence would disappear, the hallucinations would reemerge again.

Looking down at his plate, a thin and small sliced pizza was centered on it. He couldn't contain another glance back at the man next to him; he was already halfway through his second piece. Pico wasn't even hungry in the slightest. Although, it was rude to disregard his efforts for today. Carefully, he picked up his slice and snatched an inch off the edge of the triangle.

It was pretty good tasting. It tasted a little odd from the texture of the thin crusts. He doesn't think he's ever had pizza like this before. Clamping his eyes shut, he swallowed the small piece with relative difficulty. He felt like his throat was closing up as he would rarely eat much these days. He put the slice down on the plate and took a near gasping breath from the swallow. Pico raised his right hand to rub at his neck. He felt like he swallowed some nails. Just a small bite was enough to have him reeling.

"Did you want something to drink?"

Near white irises widened with shock, as Pico jumped in his seat looking over at worried emeralds. Keith was leaning down, his head tilted to be more at level with the ginger males. He was lucky that his other handheld onto the plate, or his food might have fallen on the floor from the movement. The freckled man was met with that kind smile, once again. "U-Uh... Um..." Pico stammered.

"I'm about to go get me one, I can grab you one too." Keith rightly pointed out, as he was already done with both of his slices from the empty plate he was now holding.

"Y-Yes... P-Please...?" Pico asked quietly. The sound of a light chuckle filled the air, causing wide white eyes to look up in near shock. Were the voices back again? No, the laughter was coming from the blue-haired boy next to him. His kind smile could light up a room. Pico's frame relaxed at the thought that he was still safe.

"Of course, Dude. Anything particular you want? I got soda and some juice in the fridge." He stated nonchalantly.

He swallowed at the thought. Now that it was mentioned, he suddenly craved it. "W-Water... U-Um... Please..." He couldn't contain a light blush from spreading on his face, as his shoulders scrunched up nervously. Glancing back, he noticed how those bright jade eyes lit up. The glow of the television making them almost sparkle. The blush on him darkened.

"Sure thing, man. I'll be right back." Keith nearly bounced from his seat, making Pico next to him spring a little from the couch cushions. His head sunk lower between his shoulder-blades in complete embarrassment. Pearl irises locked back onto his plate, as he overheard the clanking sounds coming from the kitchen just a few meters away. He had to stop this, what was happening to him? Get a grip...

A particular loud sound shocked him from his self-indulgence of staring at his barely eaten pizza. Looking at the coffee table in front of him, a glass of water with a couple of ice cubes in it was placed before him. Right next to it was a Pepsi can, assuming it was Keith's. Pico's frame shifted as another body jolted the same couch he was on. He couldn't contain his gaze from traveling up to meet the others.

That same smile coated his face, as he reached over to grab his own soda can. A loud snap was heard as he opened the lid, and the distinctive sound of carbonation filled the quiet air around them. He watched Keith take a small chug of his drink, eyes falling on his Adams apple as it bobbed with his swallow. Pico shook his head away as that familiar brush of heat decorated his face once again, trying to focus on his own glass that was still on the table.

Swallowing thickly, he reached out both hands, trying to be extra careful. The cold was burning against his thin bony fingers. The weight of the glass was prominent in his shaky hands. He could feel the strain on his thin wrists, as he tried to hold it steady. With his shaking, he noticed the water rippling as the ice in the glass clinked against the inside of the cup and each other. He was so thirsty all of a sudden, but he didn't know if he could tilt the glass to his own lips without spilling it. He'd never forgive himself if he made a mess like that in someone's house. Let alone, on their furniture.

God, he couldn't do anything right, could he? Pico shut his eyes, trying to stop himself from shaking so much. He just wanted a small sip.

The sounds of the ice against the glass quieted softly. The coldness from the glass on his nimble fingers didn't hurt so much anymore. It was as if the heated blanket he wore wrapped around the cup and his hands. Orange eyebrows furrowed in confusion, he opened an eye in curiosity, thinking that he accidentally spilled his drink and just didn't notice the mess.

His other eye opened with shock, as he saw his own hands being held by another around the cup. A larger handheld over top of his own two that were encircling the glass, steadying his hold. The ginger's gaze followed the arm up to a concerned Keith, that smile faltered with the worry, but still present. "I, uh, didn't want you to spill it." He spoke that with a hint of nervousness. Pico saw his other hand reach up to scratch at the back of his neck, his shoulders scrunching up a little.

Deciding to take advantage of the situation, the smaller male leaned forward to the glass and used Keith's help to tilt the cup forwards against his lips. The cool liquid rushed down his throat in a way that brought a shiver through his entire frame. The coldness of the water was a stark contrast to his currently warm body, but it was a welcoming feeling. He took a few extra gulps for good measure to make sure that he was good for the next few minutes, as he leaned back with a soft sigh in appreciation.

Deciding he was done, Pico pushed out the cup to place back onto the table, now much more stable with the help of the other man. Letting go was difficult to say the least. The smallest of smiles tilted at the edge of his lips, looking up at Keith "Th-Thanks..."

The taller male nervously shifted. His shoulders scrunched up higher, and the arm on his neck raised further. He pulled back his right hand to place against the front of his neck, eyes darting back to the television. "N-No problem, man..." It was nice to be on the dealing end for once, as Pico noticed a dark blush staining the other man's face. He couldn't contain a small chuckle in amusement at the other male.

That curt laugh made sage irises dart back over with a grin and an attempt to hide his disposition. "Come on, dude, finish eating your pizza before I take it from ya~." Keith spoke with a joking gesture, making Pico fumble slightly in his own grin temporarily. Now the blue boy was the one holding the smirk, his confidence shown by lowering his arms.

Gathering himself, the smaller male brought his attention back to his, now, cold pizza. Not that he cared if it was cold or not. "And when you're done, we can play some video games. You can pick one out if you want." Pico listened as he picked up the thin slice on his plate, taking another inch off of the edge.

He swallowed it down, much easier than before. Looking back up at those soft forest-green eyes, Pico smiled sincerely.

"I... I'd like that..."

The relationship is starting to kick into high gear.

Do not worry, my loves. If I have to, I will just get right to the nitty-gritty good shit if I end up losing inspiration.

My expertise is usually grounded in a good oneshot lemon. I rarely pull relationships out like this. Enjoy it while it lasts.

A lovely comment would help encourage this steam train of ideas. I could use all of the help I can get.
Thanks, lovelies.
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