CHAPTER EIGHT

That night, I laid awake for a long time. My thoughts split like images from a kaleidoscope, sparking secondary thoughts and feelings of a different color than what I expected.

Rizavi had made a mistake—but, from the beginning, her unrelenting chattering and chaotic energy had made me feel at ease. She was different, like me—whether she was neurodivergent herself, or not—and she'd forgiven my irritation and thorny ranting without nary a thought. She was vulnerable here, and she'd shown me kindness; I couldn't turn her in to Keith, and I couldn't hold her extreme slip of the tongue against her, either. I'd made too many mistakes in my life on account of my mangled brain to do that to someone else.

Keith, on the other hand, was a mystery. Was he really gay? Him potentially—I wasn't going to just take Rizavi at her word—being Galra was less of a concern to me than whether or not he was playing with my feelings. I didn't need a reminder that we were all part something; I had to look at myself in the mirror everyday, and I had to say no habla espanol when people learned my name and started talking to me in Spanish.

Maybe it made me homophobic, or something, but I wasn't okay with Keith being gay and still staring at me that way, holding onto bottles so I had to brush his fingers… flirting with me. Toying with me, like I was just an ego boost for him. But even as I thought that, I still had an inkling of doubt—why would he do those things if he wasn't attracted to me, too? I'd been burned—I was looking for danger—and yet, his interest in me seemed genuine.

And then, there was the question of Shiro. If Keith was married and still doing all these things with me, then I was heading into homewrecker territory. I'd had to watch my parents get divorced; wrecking someone else's marriage wasn't kosher with me. I'd be turning around and walking the hell back to safe ground. Not to mention that him taking advantage of my inexperience and lack of knowledge would sting like a motherfucker.

I laid there, all these thoughts swirling in my head, until I finally got too tired and fell asleep.

In the morning, I awoke with my alarm and prepared for breakfast with Keith. For some reason, I was strangely calm. It was clear what I needed to do—I wasn't ready to give up on him, but I needed to know if he was married, and he needed to know that I was hearing rumors about him, and potentially knew things about him that he thought I didn't. Hopefully, I'd be able to keep Rizavi's name out of it.

"Hey, Keith," I said, calling out to him as I reached the cafeteria.

Sunlight was shining through the cafeteria's doors, and he was leaning against the wall like he had been the day before, his eyes narrowed against the glare—and maybe in thought. But when he saw me, his face lit up, and he smiled at me. God, his authenticity—not to mention his smile—was so cute.

It felt good to be wanted—to have someone want, on their own volition, to spend this much time with me. I'd always wanted this kind of a relationship with the few friends I had, but they'd always seemed preoccupied—either with something or someone else. Nobody had ever chosen me—except this boy who I'd only known for a few days.

I closed my hands in my pockets, squeezing them hard into fists to keep them from trembling. Listening to my thoughts, I could hear myself getting attached. I needed to remember that no feelings had been said. All of this could change at any moment. He could lose interest in me, or I could do something to mess it up.

"Hey," Keith said, straightening and walking over to me. "Sleep well?"

I shrugged, bumping his elbow with mine. He smiled even wider and bumped me back.

"I did okay," I said, and tipped my head toward the exit. "You wanna grab some food and head outside? Maybe the rooftop we met on that one time?"

His expression clouded, and he blinked at me. I watched, my stomach sinking as he consciously put whatever had made him doubt aside, his face clearing up. A wave of apprehension washed over me, and my skin tingled.

Oh god, Keith trusted me. If I screwed this up, it was really going to suck.

"Sure," He said.

We went to the fridges, and he pulled out today's sandwich and handed it to me without a word, reaching for a granola bar with his other hand. I took it slowly, my heart beating hard. He remembered what I ate? He grabbed us both orange juices, and when he turned back to me, he blinked curiously.

"What?"

"You remembered," I said, pointing to the sandwich in my hand.

His response was to snatch my sandwich and juice away, letting out a sound that was part laugh, part exhale.

"You never eat anything else."

Keith paid for both our breakfasts, and this time I didn't start any antics. I'd need to find a way to pay him back eventually—food was expensive—but at the moment, he was taking up too much of my attention for me to think about it closely enough.

"What can I say?" I asked as we stepped outside and walked across the tarmac. "I'm a creature of habit."

"Yeah?"

"Back home, I ate chicken strips for every meal."

He winced.

"Yeah—" He said, starting up the stairs. "—Sandwiches are probably healthier."

"You a health nut?" I asked, staring up at him from the bottom with my juice clasped in my hands.

"Got my moments, I guess."

I started up after him.

"You run?"

"Yeah."

"Me too. Can you show me the rules of the gym here?" I asked, stepping up onto the roof. "I haven't gone, yet."

As I turned to lean on the edge, I thought I saw a smile.

"Yeah," he said.

Here it was—the moment of truth. We were up there, outside, with no one to overhear and no one to stare. But, I hesitated. I had no clue how he was going to react—whether it'd be a big issue, or whether it'd be nothing and he'd put on a big show laughing at my stupidity.

"What is it?" He asked, his brows sinking a little.

Staring into his face, I had the urge to dismiss my fears, to file them away and pretend that nothing was weird. But, I knew they'd just come back when I tried to sleep at night. Not bringing things up meant not solving anything—I knew that from years of experience, not all of it my own.

"I wanted to spend time with you," I said, and he smiled a little. "But there was also something I wanted to talk to you about."

"Shoot," he said.

I leaned against the same outcropping I had when we'd met up here the first time, unwrapping my sandwich. I didn't know how to start, and silence stretched for a moment before I decided to take the shortest route to the topic.

"People talk," I said, watching his reaction closely. "Y'know?"

"Yeah?" He said, quirking a brow.

"So, I heard things about you—and, I don't know if they're true."

"O—kay."

He straightened, looking at me with curiosity and wariness in his gaze, and I sucked in a deep breath. When I spoke, my words came rapid-fire, one after the other.

"Someone said you might be a gay half-human, half-Galran alien hybrid who may—or may not—be married to some guy named Shiro?"

Keith's eyes went wide, and his eyebrows flew up into his hair. Silence stretched for a painfully long moment, the only sound being that of the wind. Well, and my ragged breathing as I tried to catch my breath after the run-on sentence I'd just spat out into the air between us.

Finally, Keith looked away and rubbed the back of his neck. He let out an awkward chuckle, turning to lean on the wall again. He messed his finger together, his hair blowing against his long, thin neck.

"Krolia's Galran," He said haltingly. "Dad's human, so that one's true." I blinked. He called his mom by her first name? "I thought I was gay—" He frowned. "—for like, eight years. I don't know… anymore."

He glanced at me, then looked away. My heart rose in my chest, and I internally kicked myself. I was supposed to be happy to know him whether he was gay or not, not happy that he was questioning. But, then, Keith's face tightened, and I blinked twice. Lines of pain appeared around his eyes, and he pressed his lips together.

"And I'm not the one who's married to Shiro," he said.

The words sounded pained, as if they'd dragged their fingers on their way out. Before I even realized what I was doing, I'd reached out and placed my hand on his arm. It was warm, like his shoulder, and his knee, and his laugh when I took him by surprise. What kind of person was this Shiro?

"Do you want to be?" I whispered, my brow furrowed.

He turned to look at me, and it was then that I saw it—his features were tight, but they were slackened. Acceptance. Keith's fingers peeled my hand off his bicep, and for a moment, I thought he was going to push me away. But he just stared down at my bare fingers. As if they mystified him. Then, he gently let them go.

"No," He said.

He didn't explain, he just turned back to the desert, and so I did, too. We ate our food and watched in silence as the sun rose, and I tried to ignore how my entire face burned from the fleeting feeling of Keith's fingers against mine.

That afternoon, Dr. McKay threw a meet-and-greet for the new Jarvis operators. Sitting atop a counter in the back of the well-decorated break room, I watched as people streamed through the door, already chatting amongst themselves.

I didn't recognize most of them. The few I did recognize were already top-tier pilots in other fields, known through-out the Garrison for some feat or another. The rest were mostly new graduates, buoyed by their acceptance into the program and chomping at the bit for a chance to prove themselves.

They—and my new squad—all seemed nice. They seemed like good, normal people. And, because of that, we had little in common. After a while, I sat down at a table next to the counter, but I only spoke when I was spoken to. Despite me being one of the twenty original pilots, few people approached me of their own volition, leaving me free to think about what I'd learned that morning.

Keith was an alien hybrid. Well, half-Galran. But, as far as I could tell, he looked human. His father's genes could just be really strong, but more likely, he did have alien traits—just ones I couldn't see. Could he see in the dark, like some Galra could? Was he allergic to anything? What difference did being half-Galra make in his life? What did his heritage mean to him?

After the meet and greet ended and Dr. McKay begrudgingly set me free for the day, I returned to my room and dressed for the gym in spats and a cotton t-shirt. I arrived outside the gym to find Keith waiting for me, dressed in a sleeveless white t-shirt and a pair of shorts, crew socks peeking out of his sneakers.

My eyes skated along the bare skin of his thin, shapely legs before I was able to stop them, and I tore my eyes away as he turned and noticed me standing there.

"Hey," he said, a bit of a grin curling his lip.

Crap. I'd been caught. But he didn't say anything about it as we went inside and plopped down on the mats to stretch. He just asked me about my day, and rebuffed my questions about his in the exact same manner as he had the day before.

As I watched him lean down over his long leg, reaching for his toes, the questions that I'd had bubbled back into the forefront of my mind. His eye whites weren't yellow as he looked at me, but the purplish slate color of his irises still seemed strange, like they had on the rooftop that first time.

"You not stretching, Rí?" Keith asked, arching a brow at me.

I swallowed. Just being straightforward about things had worked with him so far, why not with this? I could only hope I didn't offend him, instead…

"Can I ask you something?" I asked, straightening my legs and leaning forward in between them.

I winced as the muscles in my groin pulled. The almost-week I'd spent out of the gym had made me stiff, and I wasn't looking forward to finding out what else had changed in the meantime. Staying fit was like pushing a boulder up a hill—I didn't like the back and forth, but I still had to do it, or I'd just slip further.

"Yeah—" Keith said, sitting up and staring down at me. "—Shoot."

"Even if it's about you being Galra?"

He arched his other brow, this time.

"Shoot."

"Okay."

I straighted up, crossing my legs, and scooted to face him.

"Do you have Galra traits we can't see?" I asked, leaning in. "Like, a purple tongue, or a purple spleen, or…?"

Keith's lips curled, but only a little.

"My tongue's normal," he said, sticking it's pink tip out at me. "Dunno about my insides."

"So, you're just human with a Galra mom?"

"Not really," he said, getting up.

He offered me his hand, and I took it. After he helped me to my feet, we started up the stairs toward the running track that ringed the gym's upper story, looking down on it from above.

"So, what?" I asked, confused.

"Well," Keith tipped his head. "I'm lactose intolerant, just like Krolia, and Krolia's mom."

Oh, I thought, remembering how he'd grabbed that yogurt in the cafeteria and then put it back. It was hard to believe that'd only been yesterday; already, he was beginning to feel familiar. Maybe I shouldn't of been asking so many questions. I looked down at my feet as I climbed.

"I can operate Galra tech," Keith continued. "And I can see in the dark a little—not as good as a cat, though. Oh, and I have fangs—just little ones, but—"

"You have fangs?" I blurted out.

Keith stopped at the top of the stairs, and I leapt up the last two to join him, my eyes wide. He searched my expression, a tiny smile stealing across his face.

"Yeah?"

I hesitated to ask, but the words came out anyways.

"Can I… see them?"

Keith blinked twice, and then he glanced to either side. Where the stairs connected to the running track was enclosed by concrete walls, kind of like a covered on-ramp. No one on the track or below could see us. He motioned for me to come closer, and I did, fighting the urge to hold my breath in the quiet.

He lifted his lip with his finger, and I put one hand on each of his shoulders, lifting myself up so I could see. His teeth looked normal, at least until I came to his canine—it was pushed down and back, shoved out of place by a longer, whiter, and strongly curved tooth with a sharp, pointed tip.

"You have shark teeth," I said. "Doesn't that hurt?"

"Yeah," Keith said in his deep voice, and I felt my fingers curl against his shirt. "It hurt worse when they were first coming out, though. Enough to make my eyes water biting into anything."

The offending tooth gleamed in the fluorescent lights. I couldn't imagine what that must of been like—being a full grown adult with teething pains. Having to eat soft foods and suck on ice just like a little kid. Keith's dark eyes were staring at me, and I stared back, my nose just inches from his.

"Why's this only happening now?" I asked.

He let go of his lip, but I didn't move—I was too busy waiting for his answer. I felt something brush my waist, but the sensation didn't register. His eyes—their direct stare—had me magnetized, hovering on my tip toes and waiting on his every word.

"It's normal," He said. "They're adult teeth."

When he spoke normally, all I saw was the longer, foremost tooth. I sank back down onto my heels.

"What?" Keith asked, one brow raised and a smile on his lips. "You think I'm gonna bite or something?"

I nibbled on my lip. Considering that wicked grin he'd given me when he'd first paid for my food, and now this, he probably would bite.

"Yes," I said.

His smile turned into a grin.

"You think?"

"Yes," I said, a touch of defensiveness in my voice. "Have you seen yourself?"

He blinked twice, but it was mock surprise. His brows were raised, but they dared me me to go further, to explain myself. What did he expect me to do? Tell him that he was a hot, hot bucket of chicken bacon ranch poutine with tons of rich gravy and tangy curds served with a cold, perspiring soda? And that I hadn't eaten in twenty-five years, to boot? He'd either laugh at me in the wrong way, or laugh at me in the right way—which would almost be worse, because I was already in over my head.

"Forget it," I said, turning away.

"Hey," he said.

His hand found my arm, pulling me back. He wasn't wearing his suit, so it was just his fingertips against my wrist. Skin to tingling skin. I looked up at him, into his eyes. His face was serious now, and his eyes flickered across my face again, searching. He was actually concerned about what I thought of him, I realized.

I looked down, biting my lip. If I just said it—if I blurted it out—would things be alright? Or would the cycle of the school leper likes me repeat again, with him pushing me away and sliming me to other people? Making a big show of not being into me. Of disliking me, actually, and not being anything like me.

"Look, Keith," I said, my voice paper thin and whisper quiet as I stared down at my shoes. "I like you, okay? You're pretty—and handsome, too, don't get me wrong. But you're even more so when you smile, like when you paid for my breakfast." His eyes widened. "You get this grin, and you look like you might bite, and I wouldn't mind, okay? You could tear my arm off, and I'd probably thank you. Can we go, now?"

He didn't say anything. If anything, his grip around my wrist seemed to tighten. My fingers twitched, and I started to look up, but then I heard him speak.

"I like you, too,"

It was quiet, barely there, but I heard it and I froze. And then, his chest was moving past me, and he was walking towards the running track while I stared after him in shock. Keith liked me back? I continued to stare as he got further from me, noticing that his ears were tinted pink, and that he hadn't looked back. I wasn't imagining this, was I?

"You better get going, Rí," Keith tossed back over his shoulder. "Otherwise, you're going to lose."

Still completely mute, I picked my jaw up off the floor and jogged wordlessly after him.

That evening, I crawled into bed a half-hour early, my eyelids drooping. I was intoxicatingly sleepy, but as I laid there, rain plinking against the window sill, my thoughts wouldn't let me drift off to sleep.

Keith liked me. He liked me back.

This was a first—something completely and utterly new in my small and sometimes downright miserable life. A boy had shown interest in me; he'd given me a ride when I was in trouble, bought my breakfast, lunch and dinner, and goofed off alongside me. I'd felt safe enough to tell him I liked him, and he'd told me he liked me back.

He liked me back.

Rolling over in bed, I reached for my phone. Opening Twitter, I opened a new search tab. I typed Keith Kogane into the small gray box and hit enter. Twenty-six pages popped up, but most of the results were about some 1980s style cartoon character. Frowning, I hit advanced search and filtered by location.

That time, only one account popped up—one Keith Kogane, from Arizona. He had a profile picture, but it was nothing—just a completely black image. I scrolled down, but only saw three tweets. The most recent was in Galran, and the auto-translate feature just returned gibberish. The second said, "I don't know why I'm here." The first only said "Hi."

Clearly, he didn't use this account very much. But, he had his DMs enabled, so I clicked the envelope button and started to type.

Bleu Bees said:
Where's your profile picture, K?

I waited for a long time, staring at the black circle in the corner that served as his only form of representation. Somehow, it was very him. After about five minutes, I looked away from the screen and went to put my phone down. But, it vibrated in my hands.

Keith said:
Lost it on the other side of Mars.

I smiled. When I went to put my phone down that time, it vibrated on the bedside table, prompting me to pick it up again.

Keith said:
You still want to explore?

Sinking into the mattress in exhaustion, I typed a message back.

Bleu Bees said:
Yeah, just not now. You ran me ragged.
Har har.

Keith said:

What about this weekend?

Bleu Bees said:
You asking me out on a date, Kogane?

Again, there was no response. But this time, I waited. Eventually, after what seemed like forever, three little gray dots popped up, announcing that he was typing.

Keith said:
I prefer K, and yeah.
Unless you were joking.

Bleu Bees said:
I wasn't, so yes.

Keith said:

Also, "Bleu Bees"?

Bleu Bees said:
You need five points to unlock that intel.
Currently, you have three.

Keith said:
Give me a day.

I smiled. He was so freakin' cocky when he thought he had things handled, but when he thought he didn't it was full-on scared puppy. It was cute.

Bleu Bees said:
Goodnight, K.

Keith said:
Night, Rí.