A/N: Hello everyone! After a very long two years I am finally back with the sequel in Keith and Shiro's journey to becoming the brother-brother/father-son duo we know them to be! It took way longer for me to write this story than I thought it would- and it also turned out way longer than I thought it would- but I am happy to say it is finished. I might add on a chapter that is a series of post-story one shots tracking Keith and Shiro's development, but, for now, I'm going to mark this story complete. I hope you all enjoy it.
PS: HUGE TRIGGER WARNING for mentions of suicide and/or self-harm, as well as abuse. They are particularly very prominent in this chapter since it is Keith's perspective, so proceed with caution.
Disclaimer: I am not claiming to represent the thoughts, feelings, and/or experiences of every person who has faced abuse, depression, or any of the other things experienced by the characters. I am simply drawing on my own personal experiences with these things in order to convey the story.
"No way. Kogane can actually fly."
"Man, Keith is gonna break the record."
"Never thought Keith would be this cool."
Keith's breath picked up as a tense, anxious feeling rose in his stomach. This could be it: the moment that changed his life. If the haphazard, quickly performed research that he'd done- via school computers, of course- was right, he only had a couple more simulator levels to go. He could be one of the first people- not even in the Garrison no less- to finish the simulator on his first try.
If he accomplished this, everything would be different. Kids at school might actually respect him- and even if they didn't, the kids at the Garrison most certainly would. But above all, above all else, he could make it out. He could make it out of the system for good. The Garrison would be his legal guardian until he turned eighteen, then he would be free. Even better, he would have an almost guaranteed job with no disciplinary record getting in the way. True absolute freedom, and all it would take was two measly-
"Not like the Garrison would even look once at a loser like that."
Just like that, Keith's breath stopped. He knew that voice. It was the voice of James Griffin: the person Keith hated most in the world.
"Yeah, I guess you're right, James."
"True. Once a loser, always a loser."
The agreements started immediately, even from the same voices that had been praising him not a minute ago.
Then, the laughter started.
"Always a loser? Try: always an orphan."
Then, his little simulated plane blew up.
It was stupid. Keith was stupid. He knew that. It was stupid to hope that things could be better, to dream that one moment, one person giving him a chance, could possibly change his life. To think that he had it within himself- the strength, the talent, the luck- to change his own fate. He was stupid to believe, but he could never seem to stop. Could never seem to stop himself from barrelling ahead at full speed- only to trip up at the last minute. He was what he would always be.
Orphan.
Troubled.
Brat.
Abandoned.
Alone.
The words swirled in Keith's mind, but they were nothing to the one that was looking up at him, glowing red and almost mockingly flashing before his eyes.
FAILURE.
That was it. Keith pushed off of the machine, racing out of his seat and pushing his way through the small crowd of kids that had formed.
"What a sore loser."
"You did way better than him, Griffin."
"Yeah, you actually have a chance of getting in."
The voices of his class became more and more distant as Keith ran, but they were no less loud for it. Keith had to get away. Far away.
Before he knew it, Keith had jumped into a car- a Garrison issued buggy that some idiot had left running- and took off.
Griffin, in fact, had not done better than Keith- no one had. Griffin had done the best out of the entire class, but even he had failed around four levels sooner than Keith. A four level difference, but Griffin got all the praise because he 'had a chance.' For a kid like Griffin, four levels under was enough; but, for Keith, he had to work twice as hard, perform twice as well. Even if he'd finished the simulator, there was no hope for him.
The engine of the car roared loudly behind him and, when coupled with the wind blowing past him, drowned out all the noise- even the thoughts running through his head. This was it, this was the life he wanted. Keith closed his eyes, breathing in the sheer freedom in the air. It didn't matter if he was in the air or on the ground, Keith had a need for speed; a need to go so fast that the whole world just fell away, until it was just him and pure instinct and nothing else mattered.
Nothing… except for the big cliff in front of him.
Keith had been so enveloped in the feeling of his drive, he hadn't been paying any attention to where he was going.
"Hit the brakes! Hit the brakes and turn!" A voice rang out from behind Keith. He saw from the mirrors that the person was following behind him in a car of their own. If Keith had concentrated any more, he would've realized the voice came from the same guy who had yelled, "my car!" when he took off earlier.
Keith did as he was told, instinct told him it was right. He hit the breaks and jerked the wheel to the left, spinning around a couple times before coming to a stop. He was a little closer to the edge than he would have liked and he came a little closer to completely flipping over than he would have liked, but Keith couldn't help thinking that that was the coolest thing he'd done in years.
Hair tousled and almost completely obscuring his face, Keith smirked, breathing heavily.
"Are you crazy?! Were you trying to get yourself killed or arrested?!" The same voice that had called out to Keith earlier was shouting now, but- again- Keith was barely listening. As the adrenaline rushed out of his body, something else had risen up.
Keith raised his head to make eye contact with the man in front of him; to his surprise, it was Shiro, though it was hard to be sure through the tears that had suddenly made his vision blurry.
Keith moved to wipe them away, but it was too late.
"Keith?" Shiro's voice rang out, far more softly than his scolding had been earlier. "What's wrong? What happened?"
'What's wrong? What happened?' Those were words that were rarely directed at Keith, much less without a fair hint of accusation behind them.
Keith wanted to speak, but the words wouldn't come out. No one ever asked for his side of the story, or how he felt. It had been a long time since he received even that small of a kind gesture.
So instead he just stood there, mouth agape, crying like an idiot. Only, Shiro didn't make him feel like an idiot.
Instead, Shiro guided him to sit on a- relatively- soft patch of ground and sat with him, simply waiting in silence for the tears to stop or for Keith to start talking, whichever came first. There was no judgment or impatience. In fact, Keith must have sat in silence for what felt like an hour before working up the courage to say anything. He figured that Shiro deserved that much for his kindness. Besides, Keith was aware of how strange it must have been for Shiro, the sheer coincidence of meeting him again like this.
"The other kids, they were laughing at me- making fun of me," Keith said quietly. "It's not like it's anything new, but it just felt different this time. This time, I didn't…" Keith paused, knowing what he was about to say sounded completely ridiculous. "I didn't feel like… hitting anyone this time. I just needed to get away. I couldn't stand it any more."
"And I'm guessing that's why you stole the buggy," Shiro said, as if it made perfect sense. As if it really was as simple as: get made fun of, steal a car- like a math equation. "So, let me ask you this then: what made this time different from the others?"
I had hope.
Keith thought it in his mind, but didn't say it out loud, still wishing the memory of his five minutes of fame away. If nothing would ever come out of it, if he would never win, then Keith really preferred to stay dead last than even come close to first.
"It just was," Keith said, as if that magically explained it all. "I looked you up after we met; I know you're the Garrison's upcoming golden boy, so I don't expect you to understand." Keith wasn't really sure why he added that last part- just another attempt to push people away, he figured. To his surprise, however, Shiro just laughed.
"You're right, I don't, but I do know what it's like to feel trapped, to want to run away. That's why I left my family in Japan," Shiro didn't say anything else for a moment, so Keith signaled him to keep going. Apparently that was the permission he was waiting for, because Shiro did. "I had a good life, don't get me wrong. I was very lucky to have a family that loved me, food on my table, a roof over my head, but something was missing. My family didn't understand me- didn't always support me. When I heard about the Galaxy Garrison, I felt like there was a whole world of people who did understand me, but I knew my family wouldn't agree with me leaving. So, one day, in the middle of the night, I took off."
Keith stared at Shiro with awe for a moment, he never imagined that someone like Shiro, someone who was so confident and good at what they did, would ever have difficulty garnering support from anyone- much less his own family.
"Did you… regret it?" Keith asked, worried that it may have been too personal a question to ask.
Shiro smiled, eyes filled with fondness yet distant. "Kind of. Sometimes a little, sometimes a lot, but I wouldn't change it. For me, the Garrison wasn't just the next phase of my life, it was the start of a new life entirely. It was my hope. I'm not trying to be patronizing or make assumptions, but when I look at you, when I saw the way you were flying that simulator, I couldn't help but imagine that it must be a lot of those things for you too. Am I right?" Shiro asked, with the slight lift of his brow. His face indicated that he already knew the answer to that question.
"That's not in the cards for someone like me. Even if I'm twice as good as everyone else, even if I work twice as hard as everyone else… even if I run away, I'll always just be me to them: Some orphan kid with a record- not that I'll ever get what being an orphan has to do with anything." Keith said, saying that last part extra bitterly.
"I saw you fly that simulator, Keith, and you're Garrison material if I've ever seen it. You'll get what you've earned someday. But, how about for now, I try to put in a good word for you if I can," There was a certain optimism in Shiro's voice that Keith couldn't bring himself to identify with. He knew all too well that the world wasn't as fair as Shiro seemed to believe, but he'd never been defended like this before, so Keith had no intention of correcting the man. Maybe a little hope was exactly what he needed, even if it was false or empty.
"I wish I could do more for you Keith, but I can't make any promises," Shiro continued, "I'm not the golden boy you think I am, and if the Garrison says no, then there may not be anything else I can do."
Keith stared up at Shiro in surprise. Even if nothing came out of it, which Keith was sure nothing would, he never wanted to forget this moment. "Don't worry about me, Shiro, I'll be fine. Like I said, it's nothing new. I'm sorry for stealing your car, but in my defense some idiot left it running."
"How about a little grace- it was my first time running the simulators." Shiro said. His face was slightly offended, but there was a smile in his voice that he couldn't hide.
Keith meant to say something, likely an apology, but he was too busy stifling his laughter. Shiro, to his credit, simply rolled his eyes and laughed alongside Keith.
The sun had fully set by the time the duo finally returned themselves and the cars to their original place. Everyone else had already gone, but Shiro had promised someone would be by to pick them up.
"So… would it be weird if I asked you to do this again?" Keith asked, looking sheepishly to the side. Typically, he never would have been so forward, but something about Shiro felt different, and he knew he couldn't let this opportunity go.
"Which one: running the simulator or stealing my car?" Shiro responded. His tone made it clear that he held nothing against Keith, but wouldn't let him forget it for some time.
Keith rolled his eyes in response. "I mean, this, you know? Talking, hanging out. Of course, I'd have to ask my foster parents first."
Shiro smiled, placing a hand gently on Keith's shoulder. "If they're okay with it, I'd love to. I think we're gonna be good friends- as long as you don't steal any more of my cars."
"Can't we just let that go? I gave it back!" Keith jokingly yelled back.
Laughter and idle chatter rose into the night as Shiro and Keith walked off. All that was left was to convince Mark.
It was two years ago- just a year before he met Shiro- when Keith made the first mistake. He was in the sixth grade, running as he was being chased by some stupid kids. Looking back, he didn't even remember why they were so mad at him, or why Keith had chosen to provoke them. For someone so used to being battered, Keith never could seem to control his temper. His spirit had been damaged at times, but no one had ever managed to break his defiant will. No matter the consequence, he struggled to hold back snide remarks and refused to douse his fiery gaze. Then again, he'd never had a consequence quite like this one.
Keith still remembered jumping some wall, thinking that he would never be able to lose the three boys chasing him until he noticed that they had stopped following him. For a moment, Keith allowed himself to feel triumphant, then he looked forward and realized why they stopped: On the other side of the wall, there was a large meadow that almost would have been beautiful if it wasn't incredibly sloped. Or covered in so many rocks. Keith tried to stop himself, but he couldn't, tripping and landing on his arm before rolling all the way down the hill, hearing more than feeling the vicious crack of his arm.
To the boys' credit, they actually got an adult to help Keith. They had wanted to scare him- and maybe beat him up- not kill him. Of course, any role they had in Keith's state was forgotten, and Keith was in no condition to correct the record.
Keith was brought to the hospital, and he knew he would get an earful from Mark when the hospital bill inevitably rolled in, especially since he would need follow-up appointments for his arm. Keith had never spent much time at hospitals. He never really needed them, never having gotten sick or broken a bone before now, so none of his foster families ever bothered footing the bill to get him a check-up.
If Keith thought the screaming match he was subjected to by Mark was bad, his follow-up appointment was even worse. Keith had gotten X-rays so the doctor could see how his healing was progressing, and Dr. Gray had gasped when she saw them, running out of the room suddenly. Keith was left completely dumbfounded. He could barely hear Mark and the doctor talking outside of his room, waiting until Dr. Gray suddenly came back in and announced that the break wasn't as bad as initially diagnosed and told Keith he wouldn't even need a cast.
Despite that, she insisted that Keith come for another follow-up the next week. This time, however, Mark was the furthest thing from angry. In fact, he seemed downright elated.
That scared Keith far more than anything else he had seen from the man.
When Keith next visited Dr. Gray, it would be at a new location, one that was far removed from the bustling Garrison City he had grown accustomed to. He remembered her kneeling down to his level- though there was nothing even remotely comforting about it- asking if he had ever felt different from the other boys his age. Keith had lied, responding that he didn't know, expecting the woman to blow up at him, but she didn't. Instead, she cupped his face, not caring how he flinched violently at the action, assuring him that it was to be expected that he was confused. Afterall, the difference was so subtle that no one had ever noticed it before.
No one except her.
Now, however, she assured him that no one would ever ignore his differences again, and that they would explore them together.
She promised it would be lots of fun.
Keith walked down that hospital now, shaking himself out of his memoires as he did, focusing on putting one anxious foot in front of the other. That had been a year before he met Shiro, and now it had been over a year since then.
Two years. Two years this woman had been collecting samples of his blood and tissues, watching his brain react to stimuli, and a bunch of other medical nonsense that flew over Keith's head.
The hall was a stark, sterile white, only made more blinding by the ultra-fluorescent lights shining from the ceiling. As Keith walked, he kept his head down, watching the colorful tile patterns in the floor pass him by one-by-one. When he first started coming here, Keith had struggled to decide what made him feel more nauseous. Ultimately, he had decided the floor was better; it's not like he wanted to make eye contact with anyone there anyway.
"Keith!" a cheery voice called from in front of him, causing him to stop walking. "I see you're becoming a more frequent flyer."
Keith knew that voice, it belonged to the woman with the tight bun that he had met the second time he'd ever been brought to a hospital. The first time he ever realized that he was different- more different than he ever could have imagined. More importantly, it was the first time his foster family realized they could profit off of that difference. Keith had always known that he healed rather quickly, he just thought that he had good genes, that maybe it was the one place he could consider himself lucky in an otherwise miserable life.
He'd been wrong, and Dr. Gray had been the first one to notice it.
It was exactly like Keith to get saddled with the crazy doctor who was fascinated by aliens.
Keith glared at the floor, determined not to acknowledge the woman, but he felt Mark elbow him in the side: A not-so-subtle reminder about their deal. Once a month, Keith had always come to these appointments forcibly, doing everything but kicking and screaming to resist; but, if he wanted to start meeting with Shiro- someone outside of the "family"- he had to go at least once a week. And, he had to be a good boy.
"Good morning, Dr. Gray," Keith said through gritted teeth, deciding not to mention that he wasn't exactly a willing participant in her little scheme.
He had managed this arrangement for just around a year, but the people who worked here were getting greedier. Everytime he came, they seemed just a little more menacing, taking a little more blood, administering an extra drug or two, whispering things he couldn't hear with his foster father… oh, and tying him to tables. Some of the tests had gotten especially painful, and Dr. Gray had soon realized that it was safest to start strapping Keith down. Safest for them, of course, because if they really cared about Keith's wellbeing, then they wouldn't have been so afraid of sedating him and "masking important observations."
Keith tried to shake the thoughts out of his mind. Those days already haunted his dreams enough as it was, and his nerves were starting to fray. Even now and again, his fight or flight would kick in, but he knew there was nowhere he could go and nothing he could do. He would never manage on his own if he ran away- he'd tried that before- and no one would believe him if he told them the truth. Or, even worse, he'd just end up as a lab rat somewhere else, never able to breath fresh air or see Shiro ever again. The only step he'd ever taken was snatching one vial off of a cart, thinking that maybe he could use it as evidence if he ever did try to tell someone about what was happening, but he had lost his nerve. He wasn't sure what the vial even contained, nor what that it could actually prove any sort of abuse or illegal activity on its own.
Besides, if he did try to report the facility, he would have to explain how he ended up in a place like this anyway, and then he would be back to square one.
"Why don't you come on back? We have some exciting things planned for today," Dr. Gray said, holding a hand out to Keith.
Taking a few deep breaths, Keith walked forward, but he didn't grab her hand, angling his head back toward the floor and trying to ignore the sound of his foster father counting bills behind him. They had been forced to leave around three in the morning, so Keith could make his appointment before school, but, in the face of the stack of paper bills, Mark didn't seem to mind in the slightest.
"Hmm…" Dr. Gray hummed. She had injected Keith with some substance he couldn't pronounce and they had waited hours for anything to happen, but Keith wasn't sure she actually knew what kind of response she was waiting for. "I don't suppose there's any chance Keith could stay under observation a little longer, could he?" She asked Mark when he came to collect Keith.
"I wish, but it's his freshman year, and we wouldn't want him to get too far behind," Mark replied, sounding almost like a concerned parent, but Keith knew what that really meant. If Keith missed too much school, people would start poking around Mark's business, and then where would he be?
"You know, if we could keep Keith here, all of this would be far more effective," Dr. Gray said in a tone that told Keith this was the thing she was always whispering about. She said it so casually, but it caused his heart to suddenly beat out of his chest. Dr. Gray ran over at the sound of the heart monitor, deflating when she realized it was just a response to Keith's anxiety, not the medication.
"Sorry, Linda," Mark said, "But we've already been over my terms."
Money, Keith thought. He was talking about money. For the first time, Keith felt grateful that Mark was such a greedy bastard. There was no way Dr. Gray's shady little practice could possibly give Mark enough money to take his only bargaining chip. There was no way, and yet… There was something jovial and joking about the way Mark spoke, as if they had discussed this so many times before that he was close to giving in. Like each time he said it, the amount Dr. Gray was willing to pay went up a little bit.
Keith felt real fear strike through his body, wondering how long he had until he was no longer worth more to Mark in his control than out of it.
Dr. Gray shrugged her shoulders, declaring in an almost defeated tone that she would just have to give Keith "twice as much" at his next visit.
The anxiety from the visit followed Keith all the way to school, but, by the time he actually got there, the only thing he could think about was how cold and tired he was, the latter seemingly increasing with the former. It was still technically summer, and no one else was wearing anything even resembling warm clothes, so Keith figured it must have just been him. He tried to ignore it for the most part, managing to shake off the cold by lunchtime. Regardless, as he sat in his homeroom classroom to wait for Shiro to pick him up- Mrs. Shalant didn't like when he waited outside by himself- he decided that it couldn't hurt to take a short nap so he'd be at his best when they went to the zoo. It was strange for Keith to just fall asleep anywhere, rarely feeling safe or relaxed enough, but he realized it was happening more and more often these days. He assumed it had something to do with the increasing- and increasingly early- appointments he had with Dr. Gray, not minding it much as he let himself drift off.
As he slept, Keith dreamed of his time at the hospital, only vaguely aware of someone's presence near him. He heard himself mumble something to the figure, but he was too out of it to actively recognize reality. Insead, he continued to dream. He dreamed of the first time they had strapped him to the table. Keith remembered it like it was yesterday. Waiting impatiently for the day to pass because it was the last thing standing between him and their meeting, the last box he had to check for Mark to let him go.
It had been exactly a year since they met, and, in some ways, Keith still couldn't believe that Shiro had stuck around. Just in that time, there had been so many little things that Keith worried would hint that he was too much to handle, things that would drive the barely twenty one year old Shiro away. But, somehow, he had stayed, and he was the only bright spot in Keith's life.
He still remembered being guided down the sterile hall, hand being forcibly held by some nurse he didn't know. That was the first sign something was off: Dr. Gray never let anyone else take Keith to the back. When Keith arrived at a room he had never seen before, he realized that she had been hard at work setting up various instruments and monitors. Much of it was new, but there were a few things Keith recognized, things that were sharp, things that had hurt the last time he saw them, things that had led him to attacking one of the nurses in a pained daze. Nobody had been seriously hurt, but- looking at the leather straps hanging from the large metal table- a lesson had been learned nonetheless.
"There's our star," she had uttered, smiling so big that almost all her teeth were showing. "Ready?"
Before he could even answer, Keith felt large hands descend on him, lifting him in the air and dragging him to the table. He tried his best to kick or drag his feet on the ground, anything, but his legs were still too short to be effective.
"No, no, no! You can't!" Keith shouted, but it was no use. The only people who could possibly hear him wouldn't care anyway. Still, Keith struggled. Even as they placed a thick piece of leather in his mouth, he made as much noise as he could until his vocal cords gave out, leaving nothing but tears as his primary form of rebellion.
As he watched them slowly bring the scalpel closer, preparing to make their first incision, Keith's breathing became more and more uneven as the shrill sound of the heart monitor became more unbearable. The worst part of it all was that he knew it would all disappear before long. Whatever harm they did, whatever pain they inflicted, any trace of it would heal and disappear in the space of a week, maybe less, until all Keith had were the memories because Keith didn't scar. Overtime, even those would fade, blurring together mercilessly.
Just as he saw the first dots of blood begin to pool on his skin, Keith jolted awake, attempting to move himself forward, but being restricted in his movements by something that was pressing against him. Something that felt strangely like the table.
That did it. Launching into a full blown panic, Keith struggled against whatever was holding him back. Screaming and yelling for help, for all the pain to stop.
It was only when he felt a familiar touch and heard a voice that actually seemed to care about his pain that he managed to find some lifeline out of the memory. That was the only thing that didn't belong, the only thing he'd never experienced, so Keith grabbed onto it, clinging with everything he had as the memory tried to drag him back in. To his credit, Shiro didn't ask any questions, didn't pull Keith off and try to get some answers out of him. He simply sat in what Keith recognized as his car, holding Keith only as long as he was comfortable, and driving Keith home when he insisted that was what he wanted to do. Afterall, how could he possibly explain any of this to Shiro. To say that he had had a bad dream was the understatement of the year, and he knew Shiro was too smart and caring to just accept that as an answer. At the same time, he also knew that this was a massive escalation to the many strange things Shiro had experienced before, and he felt that he owed him some sort of explanation.
But Keith couldn't provide an explanation. He couldn't say anything at all. And, in that moment, Keith regretted that he ever met Shiro, that he had ever dragged him into the mess that was his life; so, instead, he just pulled himself away, refusing to even look at Shiro as he told himself he didn't deserve the kind of comfort Shiro had to offer.
He didn't deserve it, but he wanted it. That 's what made it so much harder to turn the man away when he had actually begged Keith for answers. Shiro was normally so patient and understanding, but this time he had broken the carefully built barrier he had allowed to grow between them. As close as Shiro and Keith had gotten, he had always kept himself two steps away, just in case he needed to run. Keith had never been given many headstarts in life, so he knew just how valuable they could be. That's why he couldn't bring himself to cross that wall. Because, if he did, he would lose his head start, and then where would he be?
"I'm always okay, Shiro," he heard himself say. And, for a moment, he almost believed it. Wasn't it technically true?
Couldn't he make it through anything so long as there was something to hold on to, no matter how small? But then he saw the look on Shiro's face, and he knew that he had shattered something he couldn't fix. Instead, Keith retreated inside his house, running straight to his room without any attention from his foster parents. Whether he was upset or not, whether he ate or not, none of it would matter to them.
Keith closed the door behind himself, panting as he stood in the middle of the dark room, basking in what little moonlight came through his small window. In his life, Keith had faced pain and loneliness, fear and despair, and he'd managed to brush it all away. He'd managed to brush away being abandoned by his mother, his father's death, and more abuse than anyone should ever have to face; but, the way Shiro looked at him tonight, that was something that would haunt him forever.
It wasn't a lie, Keith thought to himself.
It wasn't. He was okay.
He had to be okay.
Today had been a reminder that the almost peaceful life he had lived since meeting Shiro was fragile, and Dr. Gray and Mark had the power to take it from him whenever he pleased. Whether it be weeks, months, or even just days, Keith's time with Shiro was pitifully limited, and he couldn't spend that time crying, mourning a life he never had.
Despite that, Keith's legs wobbled, forcing him to back into the door as the tears came anyway, each one bringing a different name as he slowly sank to the floor.
Weak.
Pathetic.
Liar.
Alone.
Feeling smaller than he ever had, Keith sobbed.
He was okay.
He had to be okay.
Despite everything, Shiro had still wanted to meet with Keith again, and Keith resolved himself to behave as normally as possible, somehow he managed that. And he was happy. It was just a simple day at the park, walking and talking together. They had even made plans to finally go to that zoo together like they were supposed to, and, for a moment, Keith forgot all about the sadness that had threatened to consume him only a couple weeks ago. What did any of that matter in the face of the one person he cared about the most, the one person he just wanted to make happy? For a moment, it seemed that maybe he could put up with everything. It occurred to Keith then that Shiro had bigger dreams and far more potential than he ever would. If he could put up with things for just a few more years, maybe Shiro would make all his dreams come true. Maybe he would finally make it to space and leave Keith behind. Maybe he would forget about all of this.
Just as Keith thought he could find the strength, another wrench was thrown in his plan.
The day he was supposed to go to the zoo with Shiro, Mark gave him the news, getting him up by violently ripping his blanket off, an almost evil grin spread across his face.
"Get up, twerp. It's time for you to be useful."
Keith knew what that meant, groaning internally. He really didn't want anything to mess up today, but he knew that if he tried to say no to Mark that would happen anyway, so instead he rolled out of bed, barely managing to throw a jacket on before he was marched out the door and into the car.
The appointment passed in a blur, with Dr. Gray telling Mark that he could monitor Keith's reaction to some new drug on his own and report back, leaving plenty of time for him to make his meeting with Shiro, something that put Keith on edge immediately. He was never that lucky.
The drive back to Mark's house felt longer than usual as Keith's head bobbed up and down with the rough desert terrain. At some point he realized that he no longer had the strength to hold it up on his own. That was no doubt a bad sign, but it was almost nothing on its own. Keith could handle a neck cramp, but what he couldn't handle was how the movement of his head continued to exacerbate the nausea that had also appeared on the drive. As his stomach began to burble and cramp, he wondered for the first time what exactly he had been given.
"Mark…" he called out, hating that he even had to ask the man for anything.
"What?" His foster father's curt reply came. The man didn't even seem to notice the increasingly pained expression on Keith's face or the increasingly strained sound of his voice.
Keith almost didn't reply, thinking that he would have rather died than let Mark see him weak, but then the stabbing pain hit and he felt that he might actually die.
"Stop!" Keith shouted, already wrenching the door open. He'd take the road rash if he had to, but God forbid he throw up in Mark's car. Luckily, Mark managed to stop just in time, and Keith threw himself onto the desert floor on his knees, holding his body weight up with one arm and using the other to brace his stomach. He could feel tears running down his face, and Keith could only will it to be over, wondering what it would be like and how he would know when his body was ready to expel the phantom that clearly wanted out. But then it did, and it was worse than Keith thought it could possibly be. See, Keith had never actually thrown up before- on account of never having been sick- but he'd seen other kids do it, and he was pretty sure it wasn't supposed to be like this. It wasn't supposed to hurt so much, and when it finally escaped your body, it wasn't supposed to be bright red. No matter how much he wanted it to, it just didn't seem to stop, but when it finally did, Keith could barely stop himself from falling straight into it. There was no strength left in his body. He was only saved from that fate by Mark, who roughly grabbed his arm and forcefully dragged him up. For a moment, the addled part of Keith's mind thought he might have been worried, but, when he saw the way Mark was scanning the world around them, he realized he was just afraid of getting caught.
Mark's face might have been paler than Keith's, and it was the last thing the boy saw as Mark shoved him into the back seat, where Keith happily lost consciousness.
Keith would have been fine to sleep forever, content never to feel the after effects of that pain ever again, but an all-to-familiar thud resounded through the house, breaking through the dark haze he had been stuck in.
Keith groaned, trying to force himself to move. There was never a single time that Mark punching some wall or table didn't end with the man barging into his room, and Keith wanted to be prepared. As Mark loomed closer, Keith heard what he was apparently so angry about.
"Mark, please, you really don't have to do this," the thin, high pitched voice of Mark's wife, Marianne, rang through the hall, light footsteps following behind Mark's heavy ones.
"I don't know what your obsession is with that kid, Mary, but I've had it! He won't impose on this family any longer," Mark growled out. "If that kid dies, it won't be on my hands."
Despite the pain it caused his head, Keith scoffed.
Impose? Keith thought bitterly to himself. Mark had said it so convincingly, as if Keith had chosen to be here. As if he hadn't been profiting off of Keith's suffering for well over two years.
The strangest part was what he had said to Marianne. While it's true that Marianne wasn't nearly as cruel as Mark, the notion that she was somehow "obsessed" with him was absurd. At best she ignored Keith and enabled the abuse he faced, refusing to go to his appointments and often pretending like he didn't have them at all.
Right on cue, Mark burst in. Face still as pale as it had been earlier.
"Did you hear that, you runt?" Mark asked, pointing a finger close to Keith's face, causing him to flinch. Another wave of pain crashed through his head, but Keith refused to make a sound. "As of next month, you're not my problem anymore."
Despite the pain and the exhaustion, Keith had kept himself steeled, but he couldn't help the way his face warped into surprise, or the scared "what" that slipped through his lips.
Mark smiled, satisfaction bringing some color back into his face. "That's right: I'm cashing out."
More than it ever had, Keith felt the world spin beneath him. "Next month," Mark had said. That was only two weeks away.
"No… no. You can't. You can't-" Keith crashed to the floor, his body denying him as he tried to move out of his bed, to protest with his full body.
Mark didn't say anything. He didn't have to.
He had won.
From across the room, Marianne stood in the door frame. Guilt was plastered across her face, and her eyes were watery, but she didn't say anything, allowing Mark to pass her by as she grabbed the handle to the door.
"We'll let you see him one last time," She almost whispered, flinching as Mark stopped in front of her, turning menacingly toward Keith. She wouldn't look at the man, but she wouldn't look at Keith either.
"And if you know what's good for you, you'll make sure he doesn't go looking for you."
Keith tried to drag himself across the floor, but his body was too weak and his breathing was too rapid. As Marianne closed the door behind herself, it was all he could do to reach out a shaking hand. And when he heard the click of the door locking, he couldn't even bring himself to cry.
This was it. This was the end of it all.
Keith curled into himself, allowing the darkness that had been tapping at the edge of his mind to overtake him.
Once more.
Keith just had to do it once more.
Somehow, he had managed to convince Shiro to meet with him again despite the fact that he had shown the man up just a couple weeks ago.
Everything had been planned. His foster parents had already packed up what little things he owned and told him that he would "run away," after which they would report him missing before miraculously finding a note explaining how Keith simply didn't want to live without his father anymore. His body would never be recovered, and Mark- in his terrible guilt and grief- would move himself and his wife to a new city for a fresh start.
What would become of Keith after all that? Mark hadn't thought that far, nor did he have to.
All that was left was to confront Shiro, to make sure that he couldn't testify that Keith's letter didn't line up with the boy that Shiro had known. The one who had dreams of flight and loved being with Shiro, the one with an unshakeable will who never gave up- even when he should.
That had been Keith's plan. Show up, break Shiro's heart, and leave, hoping that it would be enough to make him less sad when Keith disappeared.
That had been the plan… but then Shiro had brought up the zoo again, and Keith couldn't say no. He owed Shiro that much for all the man had done for him. One last day. One last good memory. Then Keith would do it.
After the zoo, Shiro had brought him to a park. A much better palace for what had to happen next. Keith was just about to open his mouth when Shiro suddenly spoke up first.
"Keith… There's no easy way to say this, but I have to ask, is your foster family hurting you in any way?"
Keith froze up. He hadn't been expecting that.
Keith tried collecting himself. He had to do this. "Shiro… I don't want to talk about that."
"We'll it's important Keith, and I'm not going to wait around for something bad to happen to do something about it," Shiro said, determined in his voice.
Keith was astounded, and he couldn't help the slight anger that rose in him. He didn't blame Shiro, the man was just some stranger who Keith had become attached to, and it was Keith who had purposely hidden his suffering all this time, but he couldn't help it. Shiro's timing couldn't be worse. He chose now to be so concerned that he was finally moved to action? "What's that supposed to mean?" He heard himself asking.
Shiro said something in response about how he could tell Keith was hiding something, and Keith all but begged him to drop it, but he wouldn't. Instead, Shiro said words that Keith never thought he would hear.
"You don't have to go back there if you don't want to."
Keith was astonished because he could tell Shiro meant it, and he wanted to believe it. So badly that it hurt. Could he really take this opportunity? Could he really run away from all of this? But then he thought about Shiro. Maybe the man was willing to basically risk jail for Keith, but Keith wasn't willing to let that happen. Shiro had bigger dreams than Keith ever could, and he actually had the potential and the resources to achieve them; but, if Keith was honest with him now, he never would. Keith knew Shiro well enough to know that he would throw everything into looking after him, even putting aside his own safety or wellbeing to do so. It was touching, so touching, but Keith had lived with someone like that once before. His father had sacrificed everything to protect people weaker than him, and he'd lost his life for it. He left Keith all alone. But the people his father protected had families. They had friends, and loved ones, and livelihoods. Keith had none of those things. He wasn't someone worth protecting, but Shiro? Shiro was.
"I hate you," Keith heard himself say, quietly at first, then screaming. "I HATE YOU! I wish I'd never met you!"
I'm sorry. Keith thought to himself as he ran the other way, going as fast as his legs could take him.
Sorry because he had seen the look of pure, confused agony on Shiro's face.
Sorry because he knew what it was like to lose someone. Knew that, no matter what he did, nothing would stop Shiro's heart from shattering when he did.
Sorry because that was the first time he had been truly, completely honest with Shiro. He wished with every fiber of his being that he and Shiro had never met.
By the time Keith was back at Mark's house, he thought that he would have still been numb, but he wasn't. Instead, he was furious. He was furious because it was all so unfair. His father had always told him that kindness begets kindness, that good begets good. If Keith just kept being a good person, surely good things would come his way. What his father never told him, however, was that those good things would just as easily turn into just another conduit for pain. Keith had suffered abuse quietly for years, rarely never fighting back, always trying to be polite, contenting himself with just being invisible, so why wasn't he allowed to keep the one good thing he finally had in his life? Why was he doomed to suffer at the hands of miserable and wretched people for the rest of his life?
Contrary to what his record may make it seem, Keith never really considered himself much of a confrontationalist, but he was a fighter by nature. If his foster father was going to sell him off no matter what he said or did, why bother trying to play nice?
So, when Mark told him to go upstairs and get his bag, Keith refused.
"What did you say?" The man asked.
"No," Keith reiterated, digging his heels into the ground.
"I'm in a good mood, so I'm going to give you one more chance. Go write the letter and get your bag… Now," Mark was in Keith's face now, but this time, Keith didn't flinch.
"Go… to hell."
Frankly, it was a stupid move, but for that one moment it felt so good to say. In the next moment, however, Keith felt Mark's hand close around his neck, picking him up and slamming him against the wall. Keith heard it crack behind him, but the house was pretty old, so he hoped the wall took more damage than he did. There wasn't time to think about that though, as Keith felt his lungs struggling against the lack of air, hearing and vision beginning to dim as Keith weakly scratched at his foster father's arm.
For a second, Keith wondered if maybe he had been wrong. Maybe he wasn't worth so much that Mark couldn't get angry enough to kill him- or at the very least harm him. But then something he never expected happened. Marianne jumped in, placing placating hands on Mark and begging him to stop. It was hard to hear exactly what she said over the rush of blood in his ears- something about going on a "nice drive with some beers," but there was one part Keith made out clearly.
"Keith will still be here when you get back… he's worth more to you alive and unharmed."
That last part did the trick as Keith felt Mark's hand unfurl, allowing him to fall to the floor and gasp for breath. As he is still panting, Keith feels himself being lifted off the floor and dragged up the stairs before Mark tosses him into his room.
"You're not worth it," Mark said, acting as if he were the bigger person in the situation, and not like a man who had to be convinced by his wife to stop harming a child. Mark left, leaving the door unlocked.
A few moments of silence passed as Keith finally managed to get into a sitting position. He was about to go to the door, unsure of what exactly he would or could do, but then he heard steps. Not the big, hulking steps of Mark, but the light, timid steps of Marianne. She walked in the room slowly, holding a four-pack of beers in one hand and a glass of water in the other.
Keith stiffened as she came close, but then she was holding the glass to his lips, which he couldn't stop himself from readily drinking from. There's sympathy radiating off her form, and maybe even guilt, as she takes the glass back, placing it on his nightstand.
"Why do you put up with him?" Keith found himself asking between breaths.
Marianne smiled then. The sadness in her eyes was immeasurable, as if she was watching a thousand lifetimes play out all at once.
"Because I love him."
With that Marianne left. She left the water, but locked the door behind her.
Keith ran to it, but he wasn't strong enough. He never seemed to be strong enough.
Mind scrambling, Keith desperately searched for a way out, then he remembered. Rushing over to his bed, he dug his hand underneath it until it clasped around a small vial: the medicine he had swiped from the hospital. Keith stared at it, pondering his next move.
There had been medicines they gave him that had made him feel stronger in the past.
If this was one of those, maybe he could make his way out of the room.
If it wasn't… then maybe it would hurt him enough to postpone any procedures for some time.
Maybe enough to make them give up on wanting to experiment on him altogether.
Or maybe… maybe… maybe it would put him to sleep. In a sleep so deep that he would never wake up, never be made aware of the kinds of horrors he would no doubt be put through if he was stuck somewhere that no one could see or hear him.
Maybe…
Maybe someone would discard him, and maybe someone would find his body. At least then Shiro could get some kind of closure, because there was no way Keith was writing whatever stupid not Mark wanted him to. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
Orphan kid no one cared about found dead.
Yeah, Keith thought bitterly. That should make Shiro feel better.
Keith looked at the vial again, deciding that he couldn't hesitate anymore. Mark could just as easily come back anytime, and once he was out of the house, all hope would really be lost.
Come on super strength, he thought, mentally crossing his fingers, as he gulped the liquid down. Keith wasn't sure if the medicine had any smell or taste at all, but he still plugged his nose as he drank it.
But no super strength came, and just as regret had begun to flood his mind, Keith outright thought for the first time that he didn't want to die. In fact, he wanted to live. He wanted to live and graduate highschool. Live and see Shiro again, to explain everything and hope that Shiro could forgive him- could accept him- and maybe even laugh with him again. Keith's father no doubt wanted to live, but circumstances took that away from him, so why would Keith ever risk his own life like this?
His father would have wanted him to treasure himself more, and, as pain stabbed him in the stomach once again, forcing him to double over and fall to the ground, he silently made a promise to his father. If he survived this. If, by some miracle, he got another chance, he won't just live anymore. He'll do more than that. He'll graduate, highschool, find a way to make something of himself, and live the life that his father would have wanted for him.
Maybe it was too big a promise to make, and maybe it was too far out of Keith's control but, as the pain spread throughout his body, it seemed like a bigger and bigger if.
Still, even as he promised such a thing, a small part of his mind thought that if he couldn't get so lucky, if he was destined to open in his eyes in that place again, then maybe he didn't want to at all.
The last thing Keith heard was the sound of a car pulling up to the house.
This was it.
The sharp but steady beep of the heart monitor was all too familiar to Keith. For a kid who never got sick- and had never really been cared about enough to be brought to wellness check ups- Keith had spent more time hooked up to monitors than he cared to admit.
He was in a hospital.
There was a dull ache all across his body, a particularly awful pain in his throat, and he recognized the subtle feeling of something running across his face. It wasn't too uncomfortable itself, but Keith found himself reaching a heavy arm up to remove it as the sounds of the heart monitor came ever more quickly. If the foggy memories that were slowly trickling into his brain were right, he wasn't anywhere good, and he had to get out of here as soon as possible. Of course, he didn't have a plan. How could he? When he had failed to even think of one so many times before? When there was an anxious weight pressing down on his chest, making it harder and harder to breathe right, nevermind think clearly. When his arms felt so heavy and his fingers so numb, that even wrapping them around the small weight on his face seemed an impossible task?
"Hey. Hey ," a small voice rang out beside him, lightly grabbing his wrists and bringing a warmth that was completely unfamiliar to him. Whenever Keith had gone to his appointments, he was always alone. There were no warm hands or kind voices to seek him out, just cold metal instruments, and curious, invasive eyes of adults using all too professional tones; but, this, this was different. "You shouldn't do that," the voice said, quietly, tugging Keith's hands gently away from his face. The voices he knew never spoke to him kindly or quietly, never cared for his well being or consideration, so he decided in that moment that he would oblige the voice, realizing that he didn't have the strength in him to fight anyway.
There was a pause, tense silence filled the air as the hands that held onto Keith's wrists stopped, tightening ever so slightly.
"Keith?"
Shiro.
In an instant, it all came rushing back to him. His foster father had attempted to send him away permanently, Keith had taken the only door he saw for himself and prayed it was an exit, but what happened next- or how much time had passed- remained a mystery. All he knew was that Shiro's calm facade had dropped, and the man sounded tired. Tired and vulnerable and scared in a way Keith had never heard before.
"Keith?" Shiro's voice tried tentatively again. "Can you hear me?"
Keith tried his best to respond, finding himself somewhere between actual words and strange humming noise that agitated his throat. The knowledge that whatever injury he had clearly sustained would be gone in the space of a day or two wasn't enough to quell his annoyance.
"Oh my God… I'll get the nurse," Shiro said, shock evident in his voice. Keith felt an upward tug that suggested Shiro had jumped up out of his seat. As Shiro's warm hand pulled away, the cold of the sanitized hospital air stung as it hit his wrist, bringing with it the same crushing defeat Keith had felt in his last lucid moments. If Shiro's voice had sounded weak and afraid, Keith realized that the hole inside him was ten times bigger.
He was scared.
Scared of being left alone in a place that brought back so many bad memories. Scared that all of this was a dream, that when he finally opened his eyes he would only be greeted by Dr. Gray once more. But, above all, he was desperately scared of losing Shiro. If the man was really here, sitting at Keith's bedside after all they had been through- after all Keith had out him through- that meant there might still be a chance. Ever since his father died, Keith had never been someone who got such chances often, and every bone in his body was telling him not to let this one go.
Fighting against pain and fatigue, Keith reached out wildly and wrenched his eyes open. He barely managed to grab hold of the very end of just two of Shiro's fingers as the man turned to leave completely, but he held onto them like they were his lifeline.
"Shiro… don't go," he managed to grit out, voice slowly adjusting to being used again.
For a moment Shiro froze, whether he was contemplating his choices or preparing himself, Keith wasn't sure.
"Just tell me one thing… were you trying to hurt yourself? To take your own life?"
Keith felt his own eyes widen. Of course that was how Shiro would have seen this. All the time Keith had been asleep, the man must have been sitting by his bed blaming himself, wondering what had happened, what he could have done to prevent it. Keith felt regret welling up inside of him again. Just how much had it put Shiro through? Just how much more would Keith continue to put him through? Wouldn't it be kinder to just put distance between them, to try and get Shiro to move on with his life?
But then Keith remembered that he had already tried that. In fact, that was a huge part of how he had ended up here in the first place. But there was one thing he still hadn't tried, one thing that he owed to Shiro after all the time the man had stood by his side. And maybe, the one thing he owed himself.
Honesty.
"I don't know."
He had wanted to live. Of course he did- but pain, suffering, even death, hadn't he readily accepted the possibility of those things? If the choice was between dying or ending back up at that place… hadn't he made his choice? Hadn't he chosen the former?
Honestly? He wasn't so sure of much anymore. All he knew was that, when Shiro finally turned around and their eyes finally met- tears shining in Shiro's- when the man looked at him like Keith was his whole world, all the walls he had tried to build came crashing down.
He was alive.
He was alive, and Shiro was here.
Somehow, he had lived to see Shiro smile at him again.
It was too much. Everything he had been through was just too much. Once a single tear slipped down Keith's cheek, the full storm threatened to burst out, doing its best to rack its way through his already aching body.
"I'm sorry… I don't know why I- I just- I can't," Keith mumbled out pathetically. He was aware that he was blubbering, but it wasn't until Shiro finally closed the gap between them, taking Keith's hands into his own once more, that Keith realized he had pinched a growing bruise into his own arm. It was a tactic he had learned early on in his life in foster care after realizing that crying would only bring him more harm from an already angry guardian. Keith looked down at it, unsure of what caused more shame to well in his chest: the bruise and all it represented, or the pity he didn't want to see, the pity that stopped him from meeting Shiro's eyes, fixing his own firmly between the two at his shaking hands which were caught in Shiro's grip.
"Hey," Shiro whispered, slowly seating himself on the side of the bed and shifting his own posture lower to meet Keith's eyes. "I'm not going anywhere." Taking the unspoken invitation, Keith thrust himself forward into Shiro's arms, pressing his head firmly against the man's chest as he felt Shiro's arms tightly grip around him.
They stayed like that for a long time, any questions that warranted asking being pushed to the side for now. Keith knew that he would have to explain everything to Shiro, but, for now, he just wanted to enjoy this moment.
Just as Keith managed to calm himself enough to pull away from Shiro- who was much more reluctant to let go- a nurse walked in with a doctor in tow, clearly surprised to see that Keith was awake. They asked Shiro to step out of the room, but Keith could tell that the man wanted to stay, and Keith wanted him to stay as well. The more his mind cleared itself, the more the sterile hospital was unnerving him.
The doctor explained to Keith that Shiro had found him unconscious, throat bruised as if he had been strangled and that he had been rushed to the hospital. There, Keith had fallen into a coma. He had been out just shy of three weeks. They asked him questions: Did he know where he was? What had happened? And the question they had clearly been putting off… was he being abused? Keith answered what he could without giving too much detail, lying about not remembering much of what happened before he passed out, but confirming their theories about his foster father. Not that there was any point in trying to deny it- bruises were one thing, but there weren't a lot of ways to accidentally strangle someone. The doctors were clearly skeptical about some of the holes in his story, attempting to press him for more details, but playing the sick kid who just wanted rest was easy enough when it was true and the act seemed to quell their curiosity enough for the moment.
After that, it was just Shiro and Keith left in the room again, with the former taking his place back in the chair beside Keith's bed. The tension in the room was impossible to ignore. Keith squirmed a little, trying to figure out how to begin clueing Shiro in on just how much he didn't know.
"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Shiro said suddenly. "But I want you to know that no matter what, I'm going to take care of you this time. You have nothing to be ashamed of, I just want to understand."
"You might not see me the same way… you might not even believe me," Keith began. "But I think… I want you to understand too."
"Try me," Shiro said, resolution in his voice.
Keith released a shaky breath.
"It started two years ago, when I broke my arm for the first time…"
Without stopping, Keith told Shiro everything. It felt strange at first, opening up about things he had kept locked away for so long, telling secrets he had once thought he would take to his grave, only sparing the most gruesome or difficult details. It was astounding just how much of the last two years had seared themselves into his brain. There were things Keith was sure he would forget- things he wanted to forget- that suddenly found themselves at the forefront of his mind.
It was completely overwhelming, and there were so many times when he struggled to keep the tremor out of his voice.
For his part, Shiro sat and listened diligently, doing his best to keep a neutral face and avoid interrupting, only reacting when Keith reached the very end, describing his thought process from when they met at the park to when he drank the medicine he had stolen from Dr. Gray. Shiro had asked why Mark suddenly decided to send Keith permanently to the facility, but that wasn't a memory he was ready to relive quite yet, it was too fresh. Thankfully, Shiro respected that, dropping the matter entirely.
"So… yeah, I guess that's it. Now we're here," Keith finished. It was an overly simple and underwhelming way to wrap up such an eventful story, but the silence from Shiro that he had once appreciated was deafening now, and Keith didn't like the way his fists had slowly curled more and more tightly as time went on, the way his gaze fell further from Keith.
"Are you angry with me?" Keith finally asked, breaking the silence.
For a moment, he thought Shiro would shout at him, maybe storm out of the room, but instead his head snapped up.
Shiro paused for a moment, hands still curled inward where they sat on his lap. "Keith… why would I be angry with you?"
"I don't know: because I lied to you, I said awful things to you, because this is my fault-"
"It is not your fault that you were abused, Keith!" Shiro said sharply before quickly fixing his tone. "None of this is your fault."
"It's not your fault either, but you're still blaming yourself," Keith responded. "And you are angry," he added almost childishly.
Shiro scoffed humorlessly, giving Keith a look that seemed to say, I can't hide anything from you.
"You're right: I am angry. I'm angry that anyone could treat you like that. The very idea of you being tortured all those years makes me so angry that I don't even know what to do with it. I'm furious, Keith, but I don't have any right to be because I let it happen to you. I ignored all the signs until it was almost too late! Because of me-"
"Because of you, I made it through!" Keith swore he heard the moment Shiro's jaw clicked shut. "Do you know how many times I wanted to give up, how hard it was not to just… give in? Sometimes, the only thing keeping me going was the thought of seeing you again. Because of you, I didn't have to go through it alone. No one would have come to save me if it weren't you. Just having one person who cared about me, one person who was willing to get angry for me… one thing to live for… you have no idea how much that meant. That's what I really wanted to say that day in the park."
"Keith…"
"I'm really sorry, Shiro, and thank you for everything. I just wanted to tell you that. Before they take me away," Keith said, looking away from Shiro. He felt a weight fall on his chest as he spoke the words. It hadn't occurred until just now, but there was no way he would be allowed to stay with Mark now that the doctors knew what had happened to him, and the social workers had already told him that that home was essentially his last chance. They hadn't said that outright, but Keith was pretty sure there wasn't a single family left in the entire Garrison City willing to look after him. He was out of options.
"No one is coming to take you away, Keith," Shiro said.
"Shiro, after what happened-"
"After what happened, I went straight to the Garrison. They saw your simulator score and, pending some additional testing and finishing this year of school well, you've been accepted."
Keith snapped his head toward Shiro, jostling some of the more delicate medical equipment attached to his body. "What?! There's no way. I didn't even apply. How did you manage that?!"
"I was going to tell you before, well, everything, but I got promoted. Turns out I might be more important to the Garrison than I thought, so I went straight to Iverson's office and I did what I should have done in the first place: I threatened to quit." From the smile on Shiro's face, no one ever would have guessed he had just admitted to almost gambling away his entire future. "After that, they agreed to let me sponsor you."
"Sponsor? Does that mean-"
"You'll be living with me while you finish school, and then you'll move into the Garrison. It's all figured out."
"You did all that in a few weeks? For me?"
"I couldn't do anything else. I told you: I'm gonna take care of you this time."
Keith was dumbfounded. The part of his brain that just couldn't accept this kind of luck or kindness was frantically searching for anything that could get in the way, then he stumbled on the biggest thing.
"What about Mark? There's no way he agreed to that." Even just thinking about the man made Keith's fingers drift unconsciously to the stark white bandages wrapped around his throat, brushing the rough material lightly.
Shiro no doubt took note of the small action that conveyed so much fear, and Keith almost regretted asking as a dark look crossed Shiro's face, tense anger rising in his body again. Keith wasn't sure Shiro had ever hit anyone, but he was suddenly glad he had left out the tougher details about Mark's behavior. Who knows what Shiro would have done to the man had he known everything Mark had put Keith through. Apparently, it didn't matter as Shiro finally answered Keith's question.
"Keith… Mark… he died. He was in a car crash with his wife. They found him a little bit after I found you. They're still investigating, but they have reason to believe it wasn't an accident. It seems like Mark's wife took control of the steering wheel and made him lose control of the vehicle."
"Oh," Keith said numbly. He wasn't quite sure what to make of that. "And what about Dr. Gray? Did they find her lab out there?"
"They found something that might have been that, but it was burned to the ground and probably scrubbed for good measure too. With any luck she's long gone by now, and as long as I'm around, she won't get anywhere near you, and no one else will hurt you. I promise; you can trust me."
Keith didn't like the way that sounded and he wasn't sure how to process the news of Mark's death- not that any part of him was really sad the man was gone- but for the time being, he strangely found himself smiling.
"So what do you say?" Shiro asked, slowly mirroring Keith's own smile. "Will you come stay with me?"
"You really shouldn't have gambled your place at the Garrison for me," Keith said, suddenly remembering to reprimand Shiro. "But, yeah, I'd really like that."
Shiro enveloped Keith in another hug, and for the first time since his father passed, Keith allowed himself to feel safe.