The air was hot, dry, and sharp enough to make one wonder if they had stepped into a furnace, and it was the first thing Keith registered. Then, sounds, like an uncoordinated musical performance made of the creaking wood, the whistling of the wind that reminded him of the one corner of the shack - of that perfect eerie sound, and the tingling wind chimes his father hung behind the shack tumbling. It felt like the shack. It sounded like the shack.

He opened his eyes; it looked like the shack.

Keith could see the dry cliffs afar, rocks upon rocks, red and orange and dusty under the cloudless purple - blue sky that signaled the sun's fast approach towards the horizon. The shack never seemed more peaceful in the moment, and the desert never seemed more beautiful.

He was home. Keith breathed a lungful of desert air as he stood on the veranda of his home, wondering if Shiro would be up for a ride to the cliffs before the sun sets. They might even catch it if they make a run for it. Instinctively his head turned towards the direction to the Garrison. He cocked his head. But where was Shiro ?

He made his way down the wooden steps that barely creaked, and took a double take because he couldn't recall the last time he ever stepped on those steps and received no disapproval from it. Actually, he couldn't recall the last time he stepped on them at all. Strange , he thought.

But before he could bend down to investigate, his head perked up at a sound. A sound so familiar and comforting, yet somehow so strange and foreign at the same time, making his heart ache in a strange way. He jerked towards the sound, finding himself looking at them , and him .

A baby's giggled drifted through the air, followed by the coos and laughs of his parents. It was them, and his father was illuminated by the blinding sun, every feature of his face encased in a halo, warm, kind and fond at the sight in front of him. His father's smile was contagious in a way, and Keith found himself also smiling, following his gaze to his mother, whose face was turned away so that the only thing visible was the sharp silhouette of her chin, nose, and curious looking bob cut. She swayed slightly on her feet, bouncing a bundle of blanket in her arm gently and whispering soft words. And a childish laughter sounded from her arms.

They looked happy, his family was whole, and Keith wanted to reach out to touch them because surely this couldn't be real. Because surely his life wasn't this perfect. He racked his brain for the last time he saw his parents, his eyes glancing over his father with startling shock. He was young, so much younger than Keith remembered from the last night that he saw him, when his father promised to come home but never did.

He never came home, Keith remembered. His father was dead. None of this made sense. None of this is is re-

A loud explosion shook the ground from behind him, and Keith turned his head to the sky. Flashes of colour flew in the air, blinding purple and white of a Galra warship fast approaching the shack, him, and his parents. He whipped his head around, ready to yell at them to flee and his legs ready to sprint. But words escaped him as his legs failed to move as if they were pinned down by heavy weight. As if - he looked down - he was sinking into the ground as if it were make of quicksand, ready to consume him.

"Help!" He called for anyone, but he instinctively turned to where his parents' figures last stood, hoping that they would hear him. But their silhouette were leaving, getting further and further, smaller and smaller until they were but a speck in the horizon. He called for them, but there wasn't a single head that turned.

Keith stood still as the Galra warship approached, ripping the ground and tearing up a dust storm that settled over him quickly, infusing the air with smoke and sand cutting onto every bit of open skin on his body. It was getting more difficult to see or breath in general, and he covered his mouth and nose with his arm to shield it from the swirling particles in the air. He needed to get out. He needed to run . He tried jerking his leg, but every move seemed to pull him lower into the ground, sending him into a panic..

Flashes of colours in the sky caught his eyes, then, and he realised what it was: Voltron. He could see them coming for him in the distance, but despite this, he felt his heart sink. The Galra ship was still approaching, and Keith was still sinking. They weren't going to make it in time , Keith realised. He was going to die, and the only question now was whether it was by drowning in the sand or falling by the warship raining in the sky.

Another powerful gust of wind whipped him across the face, sending him coughing and reeling as he was almost knocked back. His eyes burned as he tried to blink away the dust. And when he opened them again, the warship was atop of him with their blasters ready to fire.

He was going to die.

He blinked once before it rained.

Keith opened his eyes to darkness and sweat beading his neck as his shirt stuck disgustingly to his back. He sat up, still panting as he waited for the static in the air to stop, for the frantic beating of his heart to calm, or at least anything to stop the horrible silence and darkness of the room.

He wasn't dead. He couldn't be, not when he could feel the blankets on his legs and his sweat soaked shirt, and the painful dig of his untrimmed nails on the palm of his hands. He wasn't dead. He waited for anything to prove it.

And as if on cue, Lance's yelling about some mischief that Pidge had managed to conduct blared through the door. Footsteps clacked in the hallway as Lance made a run across it, and Keith released his breath. He wasn't dead . He was at the Castle of Lions. He was alive, and he still couldn't see.

He wiped his face with the front of his shirt, sucking in a long breath through the fabric to smell its stench before he headed for the bathroom. The drone that Pidge and Hunk had re-purposed and reprogrammed - with an AI designed specifically to respond to Keith - immediately beeped awake and floated under his outwardly stretching hand, guiding him.

He folded his blankets, just by feel. And before he stepped out of the door, freshened and clean, he took another deep breath with a nod at the room he couldn't see, just to infuse it with a noise other than the static lights. Perhaps it was also to steel himself for what awaited him outside the comforting but lonely room. Then he followed the drone out.

After a breakfast that included Hunk ratting out Lance for his late night eating habits - apparently Lance had "royally fucked over" Hunk's "meticulously organised and categorised kitchen, colour coded because what are we, animals?" - and a proud Pidge crying over Hunk's rant on his colour coded containers, he joined Allura in the bridge, who greeted him softly before giving his tasks for the day.

Things have changed at the castle since he left, and Keith was trying to reel his head around the fact that he wasn't going to be getting up at the strangest hours to do drills and hack through gladiators in the training deck. Instead, he woke up later, after everyone had already finished and worked more in the castle's many meeting rooms or the Bridge.

The first week back, he wanted to throw himself to the gladiators in the training deck just to relieve his boredom, but of course he didn't because that would be the second most idiotic thing he would ever do, first being running to the desert to follow the Blue Lion's calling without knowing what it was to begin with.

"Give it time." Shiro had said. "Be patient with yourself." He said these words almost as a daily reminder, almost as often as he said "Patience yields focus." And Keith tried.

Keith spent the majority of his time with Allura and Coran, thought it felt unusual at first to be sitting around to work diplomacy and war strategies more than actually fighting the battles. Mission debriefs were something that he participated in every once in a while - Shiro even recommended that he made his input. But even in these meetings, he found himself lost from the conversation when so much of their planning included visual materials such as maps and graphs.

"How do you feel about Altean alchemy, Keith?" Allura asked him today.

"Like… magic stuff? The thing that you and Haggar does?" Keith raised his eyebrows.

Despite what they had previously thought, Zarkon wasn't dead, and Haggar, his witch, had somehow summoned the devil's incarnate - Lotor - to take over for now. And things were idle at the moment, which was a blessing as Voltron was still trying its best to undo the Empire's ten thousand years of terror, planet by planet. Well… Voltron Coalition, excluding Keith, who felt more like bad propaganda on most days.

They've been spreading their cause across the galaxy, and more often than not, the Paladins were the star of the show, despite the fact that the ones who actually engage in any sort of peace talk were Allura, Coran and Shiro, though Lance was still learning how to not insult every alien race they come across by making outrageous pick-up lines. Pidge and Hunk joined when their expertise were required, and Keith… Keith sat at the table whilst the others gawked over the fact that he was the ex-Black Paladin and ex-Blade member, handing him some sympathy and left him to his own devices because he wasn't that interesting when he was just Keith .

He felt like an old blunt trophy sword sold at auctions and left to be displayed behind a glass case. But he supposed at least it still had some sort of purpose that everyone saw but he couldn't.

Shiro said he needed to be patient and wait for his calling. Keith tried. He really did.

In trying to be the least bit useful, he had asked her for her other books on diplomacy and politics, or even the user manual to the castleship but apparently people just didn't make audiobooks of things that are remotely useful to know about. To this, Keith grunted, "Ugh, idiots," and heard Lance snicker behind him.

He heard the telltale sound of the incoming data transfer into his personal datapad.

"It's mostly about Altean alchemy. There's a lot of studies on quintessence and how it works. And I suppose yes, it is 'magic' as you called it. Though I've only gone through a few pages, I can't be sure. It's written by one of the most brilliant alchemists of my father's time. I would have read more into it, but we've just picked up a encrypted messages from a Coalition ally," she said.

"A distress signal?"

Pidge piped in from the other side of the bridge, "Not sure. Me and Coran have been trying to run it through every code cracking program we know, but it's quite a slow process so far."

"And we'll be landing soon for a restock, I've been trying to keep up with communications without Coran's help, so I thought you could help me read up on Haggar's powers and how she can manipulate quintessence so easily. Perhaps even a weakness." Allura breathed deeply.

Keith nodded. "I'm not sure I'll be able to understand most of it, but I'll try."

"Hopefully it will also give us an explanation of your quintessence sensitivity."

"My what? "

"Remember the Galra's universal station that we encountered from a while ago? And you came back to us with your armour completely disintegrated at the hand from the druids?"

"And the yellow quintessence or something spilled on my hand and healed it."

"It healed you instantaneously, as if it were programmed or manipulated into doing so, like how Haggar and the druids could call upon lightning and explosions." Allura said, concerned and serious yet at the same time, somewhat amazed. "I've never heard anything like it. Pure quintessence shouldn't have reacted so strangely. Usually it's the refined quintessence that is used in medicine could ever accomplish that. Even then, it couldn't heal to the speed that you were healed."

"And you think that I somehow managed to… control it?"

"You told me once that you found the Blue Lion because of some energy calling for you in the desert. And out of all the paladins, your lion is the most receptive to you being in danger. I think there's something about you that we have yet to understand, Keith. It might be helpful for you to find out more."

Keith could tell by the gentle shoving in her voice that this was another one of her attempts at making him feel more included, distract him from the fact that he barely spoke to anyone outside of the bridge or the meeting rooms because he dweled too much about the darkness that he was constantly surrounded by.

It wasn't as if he had any better things to do these days. And he supposed he should thank Allura for somehow making an effort to help. But the would still felt too raw to talk about sometimes, and admitting that he needed this distraction felt a bit like admitting that he was completely indisposed. So he shrugged as if it hadn't occurred to him. "Sure. I'll see what I can find."

"Don't push yourself too hard if you don't find anything, though." Shiro's voice rang from the helm - Keith hadn't even realised that he was there. "Sometimes junk info is just junk."

Absentmindedly wiping a hand over his eyes, feeling it dig into his sockets with a slight pressure, Keith replied, "I'll keep that in mind."

The skin and tissue underneath the crisp bandages has healed smoothly after the few vargas in the healing pod, but it felt too unsettling for Keith to be aimlessly 'looking' at thin air whilst someone spoke to him, so he opted to keep it on for the first week. He told himself that wasn't a sad attempt in convincing himself that it was because his eyes were covered that he couldn't see, and not because he really was blind.

Eventually he had taken it off. Some days he woke up expecting to see the dim ceiling lights, but he never did.

Allura excused herself to find Lance - something about cleaning up the mess of food goo that he had deposited in one of the hallways as a failure of a revenge prank against Pidge, and Keith pulled his earpods on, prepared to sink into his seat for "ten vargas and forty-seven doboshes" to get through this one research file, but a cold metal hand immediately stopped him, and he jumped slightly in his seat.

Shiro somehow always manages to sound enthusiastic in the morning, but his joyful tone was welcoming on most days, such as today, when Keith had woken up less than stellar. "Sorry, I didn't notice you coming in a while ago. Probably startled you."

"It's fine." Keith shrugged. "What's up?"

"Not sure if anyone had told you, but we're heading to Krixe for a restock and at least a dinner with the one of their governments. There's a festival going on where we're landing, and Allura thought that it might be a good idea for everyone to take a breather after dinner. Also as a show of good faith to our allies, too."

"Everyone? Including me, Coran and Allura?"

"Well, no, Allura was opting to sit out with Coran because they're doing some checkups with the castle when we land. But the the rest of us, yeah. I think it could be fun." Shiro nudged his arm and called out. "That means you too, Pidge."

Pidge and Keith both groaned at the same time, and the former dramatically dropped her datapad. "Can I just… not?" She tried, but Shiro laughed.

"For a sixteen year old, you are even more serious about working than I ever was, Pidge."

"I like my lab, and I like not going out. Work is just coincidentally what it's called."

"I promised Matt that I would drag you out somehow. Don't make me actually drag you out by a collar," Shiro warned playfully.

"Oooh, kinky. I guess that explains why Keith likes leather."

Keith's head snapped up. "What?"

"Nothing!" Shiro said hurriedly, and groaned as Pidge erupted into giggles. "Anyways, you coming, Keith? You haven't been planet-side for a while, I think it might be nice to get out."

"I don't know," Keith leaned his head back against the chair. He liked festivals to a degree, and he had been getting cabin fever for a while. But it's been a while since the last time he was engaged in a social event, since the time when he almost cost one of their alliances. It was disconcerting to think about how he would manage this one. "I don't want to potentially mess up another alliance."

"You don't have to come to dinner, but the festival is completely work-free. We'll be roaming by ourselves."

"Still..."

"Well, if I have to go, then you're not getting out of it either." Pidge decided with vigor and an undertone of mischief. "You need to suffer with me in this as well."

Keith rolled his eyes, grunting disapprovingly and Shiro declared it a victory for himself. "That settles it, then!" Shiro decided, and Keith swore he could feel radiant smile in his tone. Keith wondered if the smile was still the same as he had seen it at least three phoebs ago in real life, and only a handful of times in his dreams - the few rare ones that were gradients of colours across the sky, loud roars of hoverbikes running through the heated deserts and the boisterous laugh that warms his insides.

Perhaps it won't be so bad if Keith might catch the chance to hear that laugh again.

"I promise it will be fun," Shiro said, "I mean, the worst that could happen is that we end up with food poisoning, right?"

The worst that could happen to Shiro was apparently Keith getting drunk. And Shiro has never felt more betrayed by his own words

Krixe was cold where they landed. The Paladins rid themselves of their armour after the formal dinner, opting for the comforts of their own clothes but keeping their temperature regulating undersuits so they wouldn't die of hypothermia.

The festival reminded Shiro of Christmas markets with its colourful lighting stringing from stall to stall, and vendors selling literally everything from handmade jewellery and gifts to hearty soups and warm drinks. There was even one section of the festival that were rows of carnival games. Around them, families, friends and couples enjoyed themselves in the cold, using their time off for each other, not unlike the the Paladins.

More than anything, everyone was most absorbed into the food, despite having eaten a very well delivered four course meal that reminded Shiro of Italian food and made Pidge a very happy eater. Keith hadn't joined them, but he met up with them later and Lance was doing his best efforts to introduce Keith to the local cuisine.

And of course they had somehow purchased alcohol - very strong and quick to absorb alcohol that Shiro could not understand the physics of - and almost twenty doboshes later, Keith and Lance were definitely pass tipsy, engaged in gossip like two bros sitting in a hot tub, five feet apart yet they're both gay.

(Though on that final part, Shiro couldn't exactly be sure.)

"Hey Keith, who do you think is like, the hottest person on our team?" Lance swung his glass, narrowly missing Keith on the head. Had Keith been able to see it, Shiro was sure that they would be in an all out brawl by now.

But instead, Keith snorted. "Why? You trying to get into one of our pants?"

"No, seriously. Like I've been thinking: I've seen a lot of alien races over the year, and honestly no one realises how beautiful Allura is?"

"Dude, you flirt with everyone," Pidge pointed out.

"As a joke. It's not like I will actually take them out. For your information, Allura has my heart."

"We almost lost the Blue Lion to Nyma because your libido was decidedly bigger than your brain."

"Are we only discussing with your hetero attraction, or are we comparing "hotness" for all genders in the team." Keith raised a finger to ask.

"Oh right, I forgot you only got the hots for that D." Lance smiled slyly, wiggling his eyebrows. "Specifically Shiro's D."

"Excuse me?" Shiro coughed into his own fruity drink - much less alcoholic; Shiro almost regretted not having anything stronger - and Hunk pressed his hands onto Pidge's ears in an attempt to shield her from The Horror. But of course it was futile as Pidge roared into laughter. Keith's face burned red all the way down his neck, and it wasn't just because of the alcohol.

It was a joke, obviously. Keith did not, as Lance phrased it, 'got the hots for Shiro's D.' He would have probably told Shiro if he did, right?

Yeah, definitely not.

Shiro took a swig of his drink.

"Well, I'm biased, so Shiro's definitely hotter." Keith cleared his throat. "I mean, Shiro can probably bench press Hunk, which - no offence, Hunk, because we all know that you can bench press even Allura, and she has crazy dense bones-"

"None taken, buddy." Hunk waved it off.

"-and you are a wonderful person and we love you. But Shiro , dude. I'm blind, but I still have eyes. I can sense perfection when I'm near it." Keith turned to Shiro with lopsided smile - one so strangely endearing yet unbelievably coy and suggestive - and took another gulp of his own drink. Shiro's throat tightened uncomfortably, not because he was against being so praised, but god did that smile do things to his head. He might just need to confiscate both Keith's and Lance's drinks before he actually chokes on his ego rising.

Lance opened his mouth, almost ready to protest but then he turned to Shiro and stared with an uncomfortable amount scrutiny before his expression neutralised and he nodded. Shiro could die from embarrassment right then and there as Pidge gave him a look and Hunk was ready to lose his shit.

"Yeah, I see your point," Lance agreed and gave him a pat on the back. "Dude, you're certified as the hottest person on the team."

"Uh… thanks?" Shiro laughed nervously.

"No homo though." Lance added.

Keith snickered, "Heh, yes homo, I'm gay."

"What?" Shiro choked.

"What?"

Keith took another gulp of his drink, but his cup has long been empty and he awkwardly put it back down onto the table again as if he hadn't just tried to escape the need to talk by drinking away his problems. And Shiro simultaneously wanted to do the same but also laugh at Keith's blank stare into space - obviously he couldn't help it, but it really did look like Keith was having a out of body moment. He was so red in the face that he could actually be mistaken for a tomato, given how his mullet almost resembled the tomato stalk.

It was cute , Shiro thought, smiling fondly at the carefree expression on Keith's face. He could spend an entire day looking at Keith being happy. And especially that nose twitch, wrinkling his nose as if to scratch at it.

"Shiro, did you just booped Keith?" Pidge turned a flabbergasted expression towards him, and Shiro looked at her confusedly before realising that his hand did indeed hover on the table, and his finger was still pointed towards Keith's face. And Keith was touching his nose as if figuring out whatever has touched it.

Shiro's eyes widened in a sudden realisation. He didn't even remember doing it. How much alcohol was in his drink?

"Okay! That's enough alcohol for one night, I think." Shiro clapped his hands together, hopefully distracting everyone from the heat that's rising to his own face.

"I haven't had any." Pidge raised her hand.

Shiro pointed a finger at her. "You're underage."

She returned it with two finger guns and a grin. "I'm Italian. We're in space. The concept of legal drinking age is now obsolete."

"And I want a nap." Lance grinned goofily before he decided to face plant into table they were sitting at. It was decisively the moment that Keith bursted into an uncontrollable laughter that they all agreed that it's time to head back to the castle.

They took a while, and by the time they got back, the wind has sobered Shiro up enough to know that Keith and Lance are definitely going to be hungover the day after. Hunk quickly volunteered to take Lance to bed, leaving Shiro to care for Keith whilst Pidge laughed at them because she knew that she was beyond this kind of responsibility and she enjoyed her perks.

Keith was incredibly easy to maneuver even when drunk, which made Shiro's sober experience much better than it was with Matt this one time (he almost got concussed), and Adam this other time (who was an emotional drunk, despite how incredibly emotionless he seemed as an instructor). And Shiro made it to Keith's room, completely free of any possible concussion.

He deposited Keith on the bed before running into the bathroom to get things sorted out. When he returned to search the drawers for clothes, what greeted him was Keith was already stripping off his jacket and shirt, leaving him in just the undersuit and his trousers. Then he strained in a ridiculous manners to reach the back-zipper of his undersuit, but seemingly failed and whined loudly when he gave up and shoved his face into his bed instead.

Shiro felt his heart skipping beats at the unfathomable ridiculously endearing drunk Keith and his escapades to undressing. And then Keith was crying into the pillow, and Shiro swore to god that he hadn't done a single thing that night to upset him but he was sorry nonetheless.

"Keith? Keith, oh my god, are you okay? Why are you crying? Did you hurt yourself?"

Keith mumbled something into the pillows, unwilling or perhaps unable to remove himself from it, prompting Shiro to help him into a sitting position again. "Come again?" He asked, kneeling down to try to unlace Keith's boots.

"It's too hot in here and I can't get my suit off." Keith huffed.

"Is that why you're crying?"

"Yes!" He cried as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, with his face scrunching up in annoyance, and Shiro couldn't help but laugh.

"Stop laughing!" Keith swatted at his arm, which actually hurted more than it looked, despite how sloppily Keith had swung his arm. "I'll overheat and die, Shiro! Do you know how mad I am? I'm going to die and I haven't even gotten the chance to be an adult yet!" He yelled, turning his head from side to side as if he looking for something. "I can't see my zipper."

Keith's eyes were unmoving beside the movement of his eyelids. The once violet iris that burned with a quiet intensity with every glance. But now, it seemed as if they were mixed with a faded grey and remained unfocused. Shiro's previous mirth died slightly at the thought.

On the first week back at the castle, Shiro was the only one who heard Keith screaming in the middle of the night, came running for him, and was almost stabbed by Keith in his panicked haze. His eyes had been wide and crazed, and they both apologised profusely to each other afterwards.

But what burned him more than fire, what struck him was far more terrifying than Keith swinging his knife at him with an unfathomable accuracy, was the screaming on the later nights. They were shorter, and by the time he got to Keith's door, the screaming had turned into frantic, self-assuring speech. And Shiro did nothing.

His hand hovered over the palm scanner, trembling. He feared that one day when Keith wakes up from his nightmare, the first thing he would do would be to leave the castle altogether regardless of whether it was safe for him to do so. So he let Keith grieve alone and wait for him to find his way back because it was the only thing that he could offer - his unyielding support and patience when Keith decided that he needed it.

"What do you mean?" Shiro pulled off one of Keith's boots. "You already had your drunken adult experience."

"When?"

Right now , Shiro smiled inwardly. "Remember that time when you and a couple of other cadets - I think even Griffin was there -"

"A grade asshole." Keith scoffed.

Shiro chuckled, "Well, you all had a splendid time on the rooftop, it seemed. Past curfew, nonetheless."

"How do you know about it? You weren't there, were you?"

"I know everything." He smirked as he finished removing the abhorrent Garrison issued boots. "Stand up and turn around, I'll get your zipper for you."

He pulled Keith up by his arm to stand, and they made work to remove Keith from his trousers. Shiro tried his best to not be so specifically conscious about every bit of skin that was revealed. They've dressed and undressed in front of each other before - oh the joys of communal bathrooms - but they've been blessed with their own bathrooms at the castle. Shiro only now registered how Keith had grown from the lanky teenager to this lean and toned man in front of him as he pulled at the zipper behind Keith's back, revealing scarred skin and taunt muscles with every centimetre that the undersuit is removed.

Keith stepped out of his suit, and Shiro stepped back to give him room, also to restrain himself from staring as the tight-fitting clothes came off. Then he helped him into a loose old t-shirt and shorts before situating him back onto the bed.

"Better?"

"It's still too hot." Keith pulled at the front of his shirt to fan himself, and Shiro's eyes tuned to the prominent collarbones protruding beneath the very wide collared shirt. He sucked in a breath before managing a stilted laugh. "Well, you did chug an entire cup of alcohol that's probably three times the strength of any regular spirit."

Keith pouted, as if confused at Shiro's words before he suddenly started to crack up in one of those "I-don't-know-why-I'm-laughing-but-you're-laughing-so-something-must-be-funny" kind of laugh.

"No, it's because of you!" He exclaimed as if reaching an epiphany.

"Sorry?"

"You're too hot! You're heating up the room! What else could it be?" He slapped his forehead. "Stupid me. Of course it was Shiro."

Shiro almost choked on his breath when he audibly gulped. Keith found him attractive , he repeated in his mind, as if it hadn't already be reinforced at least three times in the last few hours. There was a bit of pride in knowing that, but at the same time, it was almost too difficult to not return the favour and admit that Keith is also very attractive. And if Shiro did that, he knew that it would assure him that this gravitation towards Keith was real, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to face that yet.

"Do you want me to leave?" he tried instead.

Keith contemplated for a moment before shaking his head. "No."

"You sure?"

"No, you're actually just very warm. Not hot. Don't leave." The last two words were almost a plea, and oh, there are the butterflies in his stomach, if they could even be called that. Shiro was even surprised they took that long. He felt his mouth pulling into a grin. "Alright, buddy. Thanks for the compliment. Time for bed."

Keith practically melted into the be as his face hits the pillow, right on top of the sheets, and Shiro only smiled softly as he tried to wrestle the blanket from Keith's strong grip and tuck him in. "Comfy?"

Keith hummed contently, and Shiro mentally patted himself on the back for completing the job without spontaneously combusting and pushed himself off the ground to stand. He made half a step away from the bed before Keith suddenly called, "Shiro?" His hand was stretched outwards, waiting, and Shiro offered his own flesh hand out.

Keith's fingers were hard from years of studying the art of fixing hoverbike and the recent need for wielding blades and guns. But it was warm in Shiro's hand, and the palm of his hand was softer than the calluses at the base of his fingers. The touch was brief, but Shiro savoured it so.

"Yeah?" he asked. Keith's gaze was unfocused, but Shiro can't help but feel his eyes on him, as if it were searching for something in Shiro's soul. Keith was silent, and there was something desperate and pleading in the tight grip that Keith was holding him with.

It was a while later that Keith finally said, "Nothing," as if giving up, yet his hand did not loosen as if some part of him was still unconsciously reaching out. Suddenly there was an ache in Shiro's chest that wanted to hold on just as tightly to that hand.

But instead, he said, "Okay," and gently pried the grip from his hand off and place it on Keith's chest.

The hair on Keith's head was strewn across his face, and Shiro's hand found its way to run through the sweat-damp strands away to where they bounced softly against the pillow.

"Goodnight, Keith," he whispered and walked out without a glance back until the door closed. His hands felt clammy, and he hadn't even realised he was sweating until the cold air of the hallway hit him. He pulled his hands over his face, exhaling a long breath before making the trudge to his room,

All the while, the footsteps echoing down the empty hallway did nothing to quell the thoughts in his mind, about the expanse of Keith's back, the softness of his hand, and the yearning in his eyes and voice. He needed to stop thinking about it before he drove himself mad.

Yet the memory stayed in his mind until the late hours of night, and the warmth that filled his chest remained until the next morning when Keith emerged into the dining area, disheveled as he was but still holding a sort of gracefulness in his hungover state. And Shiro wondered when it was that Keith had taken so much space in his heart.

The sounds in the training deck - strangely enough - soothed his nerves. And the rare occasions when Keith catches Shiro in the training deck at the same time was a bonus. There was something very rhythmic and constant in the way that Shiro fights, and Keith could somehow always predict what noise comes next from the middle of the deck. It was easy to let himself slip into one side of the deck and quell his own desire to try his hands with the gladiator when he listened to someone else fight. He supposed this was his way to make peace with the fact that he never would.

"Keith! Didn't hear you come in." Shiro called to him after another round of training, panting slightly. "Not here to try the gladiator, are you?"

"No, I'm not stupid, thanks." Keith rubbed his hands and reminded himself to smile. "Just came by to chill."

The fact was that he had something to discuss, but Keith wasn't exactly sure how to bring it up in conversation without it exploding in his face. He heard the sounds of footsteps approaching him, then a soft shuffling as Shiro sat down in front of him to take a water break. "Did you sleep well?" Shiro asked, and there was a slight amusement in his tone.

Keith almost asked why until he remembered that he just got drunk off his ass the night before because Lance handed him a drink that smelled too sweet to actually contain that much alcohol. They were lucky that none of them ended up poisoned. He groaned. "Ugh, don't you dare."

"What? I'm just concerned." He could feel Shiro's shit-eating grin. "You were hit pretty hard yesterday."

"I know . That's why I have like, half a functional brain right now. Coran sent me out because he couldn't handle me suffering anymore."

It would have been late afternoon if they were sticking to Krixe's time measurements, but they weren't on Krixe any longer, having taken off late morning to head for their next mission. Keith tried to get any sort of job done that morning, but his head was still pounding inside his brain and he was grateful that Coran actually sent him out.

"Do you remember anything from yesterday?"

"Uh…" Keith drawled his words and racked his brain. "I remember Lance poisoning me?"

"Yeah, Lance still didn't regret that when he talked to me this morning. He handled the alcohol worse than you, by the way." Shiro snickered. "Anything else?"

"I remember Hunk trying to play one of those carnival games. He won a watch, didn't he?"

"Yeah. It's pink - has barbies and flowers on it. Looked like something that Lance would wear willingly."

"What even-" Keith spluttered at the mental image. He wouldn't be surprised in the slightest if he ever saw Lance wear such an atrocity. Though the bigger question was how a barbie themed watch ended up at an alien festival. Shiro only shrugged in response.

"Oh, and I remember you taking me back to my room - at least I hope it's you, because I was saying your name the entire time, and that would have been awkward otherwise."

Shiro chuckled, "Yeah, don't worry. It was me."

"Okay, good ," he laughed nervously. "I didn't do anything stupid, did I?"

Shiro hummed slightly, and Keith could hear him scratching his head. "I don't know. What would you define as stupid ?"

" Shiro ," he warned. "I didn't try to like…" kiss you "...do a backflip, did I?"

"No. But, uh…" Shiro cleared his throat "...you called me 'hot'?"

Oh . Keith could probably shove his head under a rock and call it a day now. No one would say anything, right? He was hungover afterall. "Oh my god." He dropped his face into his hands, and Shiro had the audacity to laugh in front of him.

"Actually no. You said I was hot , and I was heating up the room. And I asked if you wanted me to leave, but then you fixed your words and said I'm 'just warm' instead." Shiro recalled, and Keith definitely wanted to dig a hole now. His drunk-self might as well have confessed his stupid unconditional affections for Shiro - actually he might have and Keith really didn't want to think about it. His head was hurting too much already.

"I thought it was pretty funny… and cute." Shiro said.

"Of course you do!" Keith rubbed his temples. Oh great, now his face was definitely red, given how warm it feels. Cute, he couldn't even believe Shiro would ever use that word with regards to him. No one ever calls him cute. Prickly? Yes. Asshole? Yes. Cute? What the fuck?

"You weren't the one that's drunk. You're the one being called hot !"

"Nowhere as much as you, uh-."

"What?"

Shiro coughed. "I should be cleaning up before dinner."

"No, you were saying something."

"Too bad you didn't hear it the first time." Shiro shuffled quickly to get up, prepared to run away, but Keith knew enough and heard enough to guess at where Shiro was still trying to get on his feet. And Keith wanted to know because he definitely didn't hear it wrong, but the implications behind every syllable Shiro spoke… Keith could indulge himself to embarrass them both if Shiro's words rung as true as Keith's feelings.

"Wait, Shiro! Don't you dare leave!" He screeched like a five year old jumping from the tallest slide in the playground, and with less than stellar of a prediction on where Shiro was positioned, he jumped on him.

Keith almost ended up on the floor, flat on his face, but he didn't - Aha! - and instead he landed straight into Shiro's lap, holding tightly to his arm that he ended up toppling over with a shout, falling almost right on top of Keith, who had his breath knocked out of him as his back hit the floor.

"God! Don't do that! I could have crushed you!" He felt the harsh breath right above his face. And Keith was very aware of the warm body pressing into his sides, the two limbs on either side of his head, and the leg that had swung over his waist. Shiro's body towered his own so easily, as if it were practiced motions. Keith felt dizzy and the pounding in his head had only increased tenfold by the impact with the ground and his heartbeat thrumming in his ears.

"Tell me what you said." He said again with all seriousness and curiosity, and Shiro chuckled with an incredulous amazement in his tone. "You'll be the death of me in the most literal sense, Keith."

He removed himself from their proximity and pulling Keith up with him, but Keith resisted, pulling right back at him playfully with a smirk graced on his lips. "Come on," he teased, "I'll keep a secret."

"Not today. I will, I promise," Shiro said sincerely, and it took a few seconds before Keith finally relented and let it go with a groan, allowing himself to be dragged away from the room with Shiro's hand on his back to guide him - the drone hovering right beside them.

But just as they were about the cross the threshold into the hallway, Keith finally remembered what he actually came to find Shiro for. He stopped suddenly, bringing them both to a halt that startled Shiro.

"Keith?"

"I actually came here to tell you something." He started, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Shiro waited patiently for him to continue, and Keith wished he hadn't. He wished Shiro would just question and invade Keith's sense of privacy every once in a while, just so he wouldn't have to try and reach out instead.

"I think you I should leave the team."

A hand instantly gripped his shoulder. "What"

"Actually I was planning some Coalition allied planets that-"

"Why- Keith, where did this come from?"

It came from many things that Keith didn't want to say. From the very moment that Kolivan sent him back to the castle that he left in the first place because he wasn't needed, from the moments when the team would be discussing their plans then run off to do their duties whilst Keith stood diligently, left behind to the white noise of the bridge and Coran's quiet humming, and from the moments where he woke up to darkness, and only darkness, no matter what he wished.

"I've been thinking about it for a while, and I've talked to Allura about it. She's perfectly fine with it. And it's not like you guys would need my help much these days. You've been managing fine without me." It was the truth: he was an excess, and it felt as if they were holding onto him out of some sympathy and sense of duty as friends - which Keith appreciated, but it hurted nonetheless.

"Keith, you've always been part of the team, and-"

"And you don't need me on the team." Keith reaffirms with a sad but honest smile. "I'm not needed. Not by you, nor the Blades. And… I don't know. I just think that at least if I go back to Earth, I might be able to bring some additional information that commander Holt hasn't had updates on. At least then I'll get something done."

"Is this what it is about? You feel as if you aren't contributing how you wanted?"

In ways Shiro was right. He didn't like diplomacy - he didn't have a natural talent for it like Coran, nor was he groomed into it like how Allura, nor did he even like it. It was always just a replacement, something to do with his time to make himself useful and avoid the notion that he was absolutely, spectacularly unneeded. "I just think that… If I'm just another burden here, then-"

"You're not a burden, Keith."

"I almost ruined one of our most important alliances, Shiro. If Pidge hadn't stepped in, then the Coalition would have to find another way around that food shortage problem and-"

"What happened on Plaxofler was not your fault. The guy was asking to be punched in the face."

"But we almost failed." Keith could still remember the painful and hurtful sneers that reminded him of his heritage and his most unsubtle blindness, making him feel as if he ran on a different clock to the rest of the world - as if time has ceased to pass since the moment he lost his vision, but he was the only one standing still whilst the world continue to move on.

"To be honest with you, I've been a bit… lost, lately. And really the chances of us coming across another asshole like that is higher than you would expect. And it wouldn't really make a difference if I left. I think it would just be easier on everyone."

There were billions of others across the galaxy that were going to hate the Galra, regardless of whether they knew about the actual Galra citizens that dread the ongoing war as much as those colonised do. There were billions out there that would recognise the Galra blood in Keith and the only thing they would see would be Galra. And there are going to be people out there that will always look down upon him for being this .

The night when the alliance was finalised, the hurtful sneers stayed in his mind and he wasn't sure if it were because he had been feeling like crap more often than not as of late, or because it were true and he didn't want to admit it. They were deprecating and aimed to hurt, belittling him to what he had always feared himself to be: entirely too ordinary with a shadow so small it barely casted atop anything; just Keith. Just regular Keith from the desert with an old hoverbike, with a goal that's as momentary as the sand in his clothes.

And nobody wanted just Keith .

"But I need you," Shiro said, softly, unabashedly, and in a way so kind that it made Keith's throat close up. "Trust me when I say that you are important to the team. Without you, Allura and Coran would probably be running themselves to the ground with this extra work with the Coalition. Without you, Pidge wouldn't have been able to act like an actual teenager her age because we all know that she opens up to you the most. And Lance's been making more bad jokes, Hunk is enjoying your company, and... I miss you.

"I miss having you around, and being able to talk to someone about anything and everything without worrying about what the rest of the world is doing. But," Shiro sighed. "I can't stop you if you want to go."

I missed you, too, Keith could admit. And it would be painful when he does leave, but even more so if Keith admitted to himself to both of them that he wanted to always be in Shiro's presence, to breath the same air, to be under the same sky.

He wondered how much more painful it would be if he indulged in the idea of them having something more - if Shiro had given into his earlier teases - and how much his resolve to leave would crumble and and destroy him slowly from the inside when he looked back to think of all the thing he could have had. So Keith nodded, holding himself just in case he decided to do something stupid again.

"Thanks, Shiro. It means a lot to me to hear that."

"I wish you wouldn't leave though." The hand on his shoulder squeezed gently. "When are you planning to leave?"

"I was actually planning for it to be after we leave Krixe." Keith sucked in a long breath to steel himself against the disappointment in Shiro's tone. Soon , was the answer. Possibly in a couple of vargas, or perhaps even some movements. He didn't have much to pack physically, but he had emotional baggages to take care of - such as the very prominent, outrageously unsubtle attraction he had for for a kind man who saw pass the hard demeanour that Keith held, who may just return Keith's affections if given time.

"Oh." Shiro said under his breath, startled and if perhaps mournful. "So soon…"

The soft words were ripping the seams of his carefully built resolves apart. There was conflict between Keith's desire to stay and take what could be his and his most currently prevalent fears that he will never be good enough for the team - good enough to deserve this person in front of him. Not when he couldn't even look at Shiro in the eye and tell him everything.

Though, he wanted to - Keith wanted to tell him everything, to unload every bit of his baggages and tell him, unfair as it maybe to let Shiro drown in it whilst Keith was light years away. And it wasn't as if they would ever come to anything now, not with the hot mess that he was at the moment. Maybe if he said it now, he could remove one less regret in his life, even if it felt wrong to do so, even if he hoped for a reply from Shiro but dreaded to actually hear it.

It doesn't have to come to anything, and it probably won't anyways. Keith was selfish that way, and he was a coward when it came to Shiro. He cared too much about what Shiro's opinions of him were to actually want to live with Shiro's rejection whilst cohabiting this space with him. He opened his mouth with words heavy on his tongue. "Shiro, I-"

"One mission."

Keith reeled in his words. "Sorry?"

"Stay for one last mission with us. For old time's sake, and also for me to prove that you are important to this team." Shiro offered. "Please?"

It was dangerous to accept any more time on the castleship being surrounded by all of his friends, and most of all Shiro, who could unravel his plans with a simple words. Just words, and suddenly Keith couldn't find his prior resolve.

I'm not giving up on you. Don't give up on yourself .

Shiro had always been too hopeful and kind. For the first time in a while, Keith didn't want that kindness. But he owed Shiro this much, at least. This one small mission compared to the unending trust Shiro had for him.

Keith smiled slightly. One last time, he'll do it one last time - for Shiro .

"Okay. One last time. One last mission." For you.