[ closed ]

[earthshine]

Who: shiro + keith
When: perm log for these idiots
Where: all over
Summary: say, say o playmate from the august tdm. the butcher's camp from the september tdm. quarter pounder from the september event. keith's birthday. hermy the wormy from the december tdm. in the hive from the december event.new year, new you from the january tdm. end of january, references january event.
Warnings:
say, o say o playmate: hallucination, blood, ritualistic sacrifice, claustrophobia.
the butcher's camp: animal death, animal mutilation, both human and animal butchery, implied cannibalism, stripping ( nsfw ).
quarter pounder: blood, animal attack, consumption of human flesh, violence, gore, body horror, potential for severe injury, including puncture wounds and broken bones, potential for choking, potential for animal death.
keith's birthday: boys being stupid.
hermy the wormy: worms, decay, altered mental states/compulsion, emotional corruption, potential for violence, body mutilation, attempted murder.
in the hive: insects/swarms, bites, vomiting, body horror, death ( npcs ), mental and physical trauma
new year, new you: self-doubt, body dysmorphia trauma, cringe talk about sex safety, hook-up culture, body modification ( steroid and synthol oil use ), mention of drug use
end of january: implied animal death, self-doubt, body image issues, body dysmorphia, self-harm, body mutilation, skin burning, drug use mention ( tren steroid ), implied extreme dieting ( starvation & dehydration ), nsfw ( heavy petting and nudity ). reference to shiro's scars.

Comments

say, say o playmate

[earthshine]

[ ah, dogtown. it is quickly becoming shiro’s least favorite place. after the incident with the nudist monsters, shiro’s less than pleased to be tromping along this particular park trail again. nonetheless, preventing an apocalyptic event by running recon for adi does take precedence over any uneasy feelings he or keith have. not to mention, adding more cash into each of their pockets doesn’t hurt in sweetening the deal. afterall, monster blood has a way of staining, so shiro would benefit from making another trip to marshall’s.

this mission is meant to be simple -- though, adi has a habit of downplaying the risks involved, as seen by the clusterfuck failure of finding a portion of their team lodged in seal skin. it’s been just over a week since the mission to essex bay and shiro still doesn’t know what to make of it. he’s seen some pretty horrific things in the past, almost, two years; he’s even bore witness to inexplicable weird shit too. but people masquerading as seals…?

he puts the pin back in that thought and as he has been for the past week, abandons making sense of it. at present, he gives the big, bold never try never win a passing glance and huffs a barely there laugh. hopefully they don’t have to try to the same caliber as last time they were here. well, not here here. they’ve come to the trail from a different part this time. they’re up higher, off dogtown road, whereas last time, they were closer to the babson reservoir.

so shiro isn’t expecting the trail to open a few yards after they’ve ascended an incline and he certainly had not expected a playground to be located off to the side. for this being a relatively popular trail, it’s surprising at how dilapidated the playground is. the wood structure housing a green, plastic slide is worn from weather and misuse. there’s a steel swing set nearby with a singular seat, held aloft by rusted chains. and off to the side there’s… ]

Hey, check it out. [ he grins, abruptly changing the direction of his steps to beeline it for the spring rocker. he remembers these. the design is different but the idea is the same and he laughs a little looking at the kangaroo and her joey. yeah yeah, he knows they’re here to document paranormal activities but… let him have a moment of nostalgia okay. ] Do you think it’s strong enough to hold either of our weights?

hours later i am STILL yelling i'll have you know

[marmoron]

[ getting attacked by kelpies has a way of putting a damper on keith's general enthusiasm for poking around dogtown, but putting all misgivings aside, there's easy cash to be made here. cash that will see great use in purchasing more bulletin boards, push pins, sharpies, and a cheap printer.

granted, it's become very apparent that it's best to assume that murphy's law applies to adi's missions just as much as they did with team voltron's. the familiarity isn't one that brings any kind of comfort though. what does however, is going about this with shiro. while there are certainly other folks in the agency that keith can cooperate with fairly well, there's an ease to mission work with shiro that lends itself to relaxing.

which is to say, while he's peering this way and that, trying to decide if a deep gouge mark left on tree bark is indicative of local wildlife or some freakish monster, he's not worrying about what his mission partner's going to do if something does turn up. the playground is just as surprising to keith, and he straightens up from his moose vs spook debate to jog after his friend. despite himself, keith has to laugh at shiro's delight. tucking his phone away in his pocket, keith gives the kangaroo's back a firm push with his gloved hand. the playground looks as though it's fallen into disrepair for some time now, but even so the roo and joey bounce back up without a single squeak or other unreassuring noise. ]

Heh. Looks pretty strong to me. [ one hand becomes two and he gives the ride another push to similar results. ] You gonna ride it?

i have no idea why you're yelling

[earthshine]

[ is he going to ride it? psh. is that even a question? ]

Of course I’m going to ride it.

[ actually, it should be a question and one that shiro would be wise to reconsider. they let their guard down once before on this trail and got some horrific memories for it; staying on task and finishing out this documenting mission in quick order would be the responsible thing to do. he knows this and yet, he smirks and shuffles closer to the marsupial pair, swinging a leg over to perch himself into the seat.

given the design with it’s sloping neck and mostly open back, shiro actually fits. still, it leaves a lot to be desired when it comes to comfort. these were far more fun to sit on when he was somewhere around three feet shorter and minus one-eighty pounds. it’s a call-back to a far simpler time though and for that, shiro softens on the next breath, shoulders momentarily relaxing and gaze growing distant. but by the next inhale, he snaps back to attention and tosses a glance over his shoulder at keith. ]

Pull me back. [ he puts one foot up on the straight bar rest, his other still keeping him steady. both hands curl tight around the handlebars and then he’s hunkering down for what he can only assume is going to be a wild ride. ] Try to launch me.

SURE.

[marmoron]

[ the question had been asked largely in jest, so the enthusiastic affirmative makes keith pause and stare as shiro climbs on the ride. the sight is almost comical -- the rocker is meant for kids a quarter of shiro's size and seeing this much muscle mass balanced on the narrow back of a metal kangaroo and joey just looks... disproportionate? whatever it is, seeing his friend's grin reflexively makes keith smile right back.

for a moment, it's almost like being at home -- on their earth, rather than lost on an earth from an entirely different reality facing its own terrors. when was the last time shiro had seemed so carefree anyway? keith wants to date it to something more recent in his memory, but if he's being honest with himself .... it was probably well over a year ago. back before voltron and the galra. hell, even before kerberos, when it was just the two of them recklessly racing out in the desert.

there's an unexpected pang in his chest then and it takes an extra moment to place. homesickness? maybe. keith had always thought he'd warded that off better than the other paladins. hunk, lance and pidge all had families and friends who missed them, but all keith has waiting back home is a shack in the desert. but he's getting lost in his own head again. keith gives himself a quick mental shake, crossing over behind shiro, resting one foot on the kangaroo's tail both hands slamming down behind shiro to crank the spring back. ]

Hang on tight. Wouldn't want you flying off, old-timer.

[ again, for a playground that's so clearly been long abandoned, the give in the spring is malleable and the tension easy to load. no signs of rust, no creaking, no nothing. keith adds an extra bit of force with his foot to really put his weight into this. ]

Lift off in 3. 2. 1

[ he jumps back with a laugh. ]

the butcher's camp

[earthshine]

[ one hundred dollars isn’t worth it. that’s the fifth, no, sixth time he’s thought that since they passed a familiar trailhead some fifteen minutes ago and yet, his steps keep moving forward. it’s not about the money. not only about the money; even without a monthly rent, living off sporadic payments has been difficult. mostly though, it’s about aiding adi’s surveillance. adi is largely a question mark right now; who is pulling the strings, can they be trusted, is the organization on the right side of things? but the bottom line is this: there’s something very rotten happening in gloucester and unless they get out there to investigate ( and possibly prevent ), the threat of an apocalyptic event increases.

dogtown again though? first time it came with nudist monsters. the second presented a cursed slide. now the third… nothing. so far at least. and honestly? shiro hopes that luck keeps and in a couple hours time, they’ll be back in the apartment, eating ramen and talking about how it was all a waste of time.

he should know better than to hope. because it’s not more than two minutes later that upon looking out into the forest, he notices the smoke seeping between the trees. he doesn’t think there’s a campground along this stretch of trail. not that it matters; neither of them are here to bust some wayward campers. however, it’s the only inconsistency from the norm and well…

check out anything out of the ordinary, right? he comes to a stop and nods toward the smoke. ]

Let’s see what that’s about.

[ and then they’re off the beaten trail. a good thirty yards brings them to a decline and heading down that slope puts them into a ravine of clustered trees, obscuring the view of where the smoke is originating from. twigs snap under their feet as they go and with stealth so greatly hampered, perhaps that is why the camp is empty when they bumble into the clearing. the smoke is thicker and the fire is doused. it’s almost like someone just snuffed it out. scanning the area though, he sees no one. unfortunately, he sees other things.

beyond the triangular structure, made of wooden poles and one sloppily tied down tarp, is a wooden beam held aloft between two trees. from it dangles -- animals. various animals, in various pieces. shiro may be ignorant to the sport of hunting, but he’s fairly certain that’s not how you skin and gut trophy animals. two bunnies hang with their feet missing. there’s a turkey with its throat slit and dark, blood matted earth below it. one deer hangs by a hind leg, the other missing, along with its antlers and… head. it’s over there by the firepit. along with a coyote that is skinned and gutted, it’s entrails sitting in a pile next to a stump.

those are just the animals he can identify. there’s pieces of… things around. some bloody slabs of muscle, fat and bone, others still furred but dismembered. what creature does that belong to? with parts being in the dirt and by the smoldering fire, even some charred flesh among the embers, shiro quickly finds himself nauseated, both from the strong smell of blood and the utter ruin of so many dead things. he swallows, allowing him one last moment of sickness and then he pulls himself together, expression set in a way to downplay his uneasiness. ]

This doesn’t seem right at all. [ understatement. this is creepy. he’s standing there on the edge of the camp, hesitant to do anything further just yet. ]

But it might just be a poacher. [ is that supposed to be comforting? maybe. it's just -- hunting seasons vary, he knows that much. and he doubts all of these animals coincide. only issue with that theory? why ruin the trophies with such terrible butchering? he frowns, again scanning for a hint of anyone nearby. ]

[marmoron]

[ as disinclined as keith is to go on yet another mission where they've been assured of their safety in dogtown, the fact remains that it's a relatively easy source of money -- if they're lucky. take a pic of some weird looking tracks? a hundred bucks in the bank. but beyond that, shiro had expressed interest in going and like hell was keith going to leave his best friend to fend for himself against... whatever cosmic horror is out there.

yes, he's aware that shiro has survived a year in the fighting pits. yes, shiro can take care of himself. what's the harm in making double, triple sure? obviously nothing. compared to last time, keith has prepared a little more thoroughly, bringing along a handgun holstered at his hip in addition to his bayard and knife, along with a backpack of extra supplies like duct tape, a crowbar and a thick rope. and yes, the folks at the local hardware store gave keith a look for those purchases, and let's not forget, one of the earliest tools to be used since the dawn of mankind -- a handy dandy rock.

keith manages to keep himself from throwing one every so often, largely because he doesn't want shiro to think he's overreacting, but the temptation hits harder when that first plume of smoke is spotted through the trees. really, people camping in non-designated areas is hardly anything to be tense over, but dogtown has a way of making you jump to stranger conclusions. when they finally get to the campsite after likely warning everything with ears in the immediate civinity, keith pauses.

there's a decapitated deer head looking at him next to the fire where thick smoke is still billowing from. eyes watering a little from the sting, he directs his focus around the perimeter looking for threats. fortunately or unfortunately, it looks like all that's here are a grotesquely butchered animals. it's only then that keith allows just an inch of space for the nausea to be processedd and promptly tries not to gag at coagulating blood, charred meat and ash. ]

Wait. Before we get any closer.

[ and here, he finally picks up a rock and chucks it as hard as he can at the smoldering fire pit. it strikes the charcoal, making a few pieces crumble, but other than that? nothing. keith relaxes about three hairs as he exhales. ]

Rock's still there. Probably no worm hole then.

[ .... and with that precursor safety measure out of the way, keith starts making his way towards the animal carcasses that've been strung up on the wooden beam. at least judging from the fact that there's no sign of rot yet, the deer and rabbits can't have been dead for too long. still, he doesn't want to touch them. in what's probably an inappropriate comment to make, keith mutters: ]

WIf they were poachers, they're pretty crappy ones. What were they using? A chainsaw? [ TSK. and more pertinently, he glances back towards shiro: ] Maybe we should look in the tent to see if there's any identifying material left behind.

[earthshine]

[ earlier, shiro had side-eyed keith’s sudden habit of keeping a rock handy. armed to the teeth with a knife, a gun and a bayard, keith completing the battle-ready look with a rock had been a comedy in the making, but now that he’s actually found a use for his rock throwing -- well, shiro feels rather sheepish. with an ambience of death laid out before them, smiling is the last thing shiro should be doing. however, he does. briefly and weakly, he tilts a smile keith’s way, giving into the sense of pride he feels. smart, that’s what keith is. paranoid too, maybe, but shiro chooses to stick to the more positive praises. see, assertive and cunning and prudent of all possibilities: he’s got the makings of leadership in there, shiro knew it.

thoughts of voltron and changing color schemes don't last beyond that though and with keith wandering further into the encampment, shiro is quick to follow. for the most part, he’s useless while he’s in motion. his gaze is glued to the ground because he has no desire of tromping on some ripped parts of an animal. his next stride is exaggerated, as he oversteps some grisly bits and then finally, he comes to a stop a few feet short of the tarped shelter.

keith’s insulting the possible poachers and shiro breathes out a laugh, though there’s no humor to be heard in it. weary, grossly unsettled, yeah, that’s where he is currently with his emotions. he’s seen worse, he tells himself, as though that warrants him to have a stronger stomach for mutilated animals. he breathes out, briefly closing his eyes… and of course, immediately opens them to glance over, only to find keith already looking at him.

he pulls his unease back in tight and then nods. ]

Good idea. [ he’s already close, so five steps and he has to duck down under the tarp. ] Keep a lookout while I dig.

[ considering what the outside is like, he’s expecting disarray. maybe even trails of blood. he sees none of this. sure, the sleeping bag is unzipped there on a thin layer of foam, but the rest of the personal space is orderly. sparse too. other than some chopped logs in the corner, a box and a duffle with some discarded gloves laid on top, there isn’t anything worthwhile in the space.

he goes straight for the duffle. inside produces nothing -- no papers, no identification, no clues to who the people are, other than them having an xl jacket and thirty-eight inch waistline. he sighs, pausing in his rummaging and glances over toward the box. moving there next to push back the lid and…

ah. camping necessities. flashlight, matches, off spray, radio, glue, pens…

his gaze catches on those last items. black, red, white… he blinks at the pens tucked into the side of the box and tentatively, he plucks the black one up. turning it over this way and that, he doesn’t know why… can’t even begin to verbalize but… -- he pops off the cap and touches the tip to his left wrist. a drag of it round has him completing a inked circle and it’s… good? feels right?

he glances to the side, seeing the lower half of keith standing watch outside. again, his gaze lingers but eventually, he calls out: ]

Keith -- hey. Come here for a tick. [ he grabs the red pen, because of course it has to be the red pen and holds both up for keith to see. ]

Look at these.

quarter pounder.

[earthshine]

[ what’s that famous quote? insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results? after three miserable experiences, they should know better by now. yet, here they are again, willingly wandering into dogtown. this time is -- heh -- different, is what he tells himself. they’ve come prepared. aside from keith shouldering a backpack full of survival necessities, both of them are donning full paladin gear. this time, they know they’re going into battle. it looks like they’ve missed most of it, however.

the air stinks. it’s metallic and thick, each draw of breath harder only in the fact that he knows he’s breathing in death. obviously so, because it’s not just the scent of blood, it’s the sight of it too. it’s everywhere. in the underbrush, at the base of a tree, higher on the trunk -- some of it pools heavily in certain spots, while others come in high strewn splatters caught in an arc. and worse, flesh and broken pieces of once living things decorate their walk. they’re sparser than the blood, but they garner a stronger presence, smelling putrid and rotten, even when there’s hefty distance between them. they’re off the beaten path but they may as well be on one still, with how the blood and ripped bits lead them along, deeper and deeper into the forest.

it reminds him of the poacher’s camp weeks ago, only exponentiated to damning results. fuck. damn. the poacher’s camp. thinking of it has shiro peeking over at keith some paces away. they were lucky. as disastrous as each of them have dubbed that experience to be, with their ridiculous antics and naked bodies on display for one another, the worst they’ve suffered is embarrassment and a lingering awkwardness that keeps them from acknowledging it ever happened. at least neither of them lost a piece of themselves.

the reports that came into adi were truly horrifying. imagining someone, something coming in to cut along the marks drawn into his skin has added to the fodder that already keeps shiro up at night. it manifests into that primal fear of reliving the experimentation that took his right arm and worse, gives rise to a guilt that eats and eats at him. if keith hadn’t pushed to leave, if they’d stayed, and if something cut out sections of keith’s flesh by following the lines shiro put there… shiro never would have forgiven himself.

later, he’ll tell himself it’s through this brief, very brief lapse in attention that he misses the trap, not his own incompetence. it’s a slight difference, but anyone with a critical eye would think the ground looks different. disturbed. but shiro’s distracted with misplaced guilt and with the sight of trails of blood that already disrupt the uniformity of dirt, leaves, branches. one moment he’s on level ground and in the next, he steps into seemingly nothingness. the flimsy crisscross of sticks covered by soil, twigs and leaves gives under his weight and shiro tumbles into the pit, yelping as he goes.

pain comes next but not from piercing or ripping or puncturing. again, shiro’s lucky. it’s from landing belly down from a sharp drop. wooden spikes welcome him but they aren’t strong enough, nor sharp enough to stab through his armor. and for the softer, less protected areas? he’s saved from taking a spike through his right cheek by turning his head at the last moment, earning a hard tweaking of his neck as the point hits his helmet instead. and his midsection -- good thing he’s not the first thing down here.

he lands on something. someone. the abrupt drop of his mass on the body, pushes it down another inch and has the spike splitting through, breaching the person’s back to just barely graze shiro’s right side. person. person. shiro pushes himself up as best he can by grabbing the stocks of two spikes, half balanced on a body while his upper torso rests on the tips of spikes. he turns his head to the right and… there’s another someone. someone familiar. now armless, dead, mouth open with something dark moving over his tongue -- shiro’s breath hitches as emotion bombards him and he momentarily loses it, giving into a yell as he tries to scramble away without hurting himself. ]

[marmoron]

[ once again, keith is on edge in dogtown. it seems no matter how often they swear off walking around this part of gloucester, there's always something that needs to be investigated here. this time, it isn't even subtle. as they walk through winding paths, the metallic smell of coagulated blood is unmistakable. following the scent has led to even more grisle and decay as parts lay strewn about. figures this time there's no fucked up happy ending to all the disappearances happening around town, huh? what are the odds of finding people stuck in a seal skin this time?

they say humor's meant to be some kind of defense mechanism and keith's certainly noticed his own gallows humor coming more to light in the last several months. but even then, it's not some grim laughter that keeps keith moving forward, it's that drive to know because not knowing is somehow worse than whatever reality can throw at him. keith is careful -- hypervigilant even as he steps carefully on the off beaten path, pausing every so often whenever he hears movement beyond the trees. there's a lot of bad memories around dogtown that he could be dwelling on right now, but keith focuses on none of them.

instead, he's going through a mental list of whatever could have caused the destruction here. it doesn't do him much good, considering this reality is home to all sorts of unpredictables, but if nothing else it makes him feel better to be going over battle plans. as such, he is genuinely not paying attention when shiro sets foot on a trap and goes tumbling into a pit. the sound of snapped twigs is what startles keith first, then followed by the thump. ]

Shiro?!

[ and instantly, it's like his heart gets jabbed full of adrenaline. rushing over, the tension only spikes when shiro starts shouting. ] Just hang on! I'm coming!

[ but for his panic, keith stays careful. it won't do either of them any good if they both get caught in something. so a short twenty seconds later, keith peers down into the pit, freezing as soon as he registers not just shiro, but the company he has with him. ]

Shit. [ that's murmured under his breath as keith works to get the backpack off his shoulders to start fumbling for a rope. first of all that pit is fucking deep -- and the putrid rank smell wafting from the bottom of it is overwhelming. ]

Shiro, I'm up here. I'll get you out with the rope. Are you okay? [ and more tentatively: ] ...Are they okay?

[earthshine]

[ keith. right, keith. the sound of his voice grounds shiro’s mounting panic and he whips his head up. his next breath is still too labored, but there’s a sense of relief that ushers in at the sight of keith peering down at him. momentarily, it blocks out the claustrophobic feeling of being nearly ten feet under, lying among dead people and choking on the scent of decay. only momentarily though. the moment gives and then shiro is intently aware that he’s still balancing on a body, with another within arm’s reach.

he hates this. he hates this because this isn’t a novel experience; he’s been saturated in death before. here, he’s trapped with it and it makes him think of gladiator rings and endless cycles. the walls of his would be grave seem closer all of a sudden and again, his breath draws heavy and wrong. don’t panic, don’t panic, focus…

he forcibly swallows and thinks no, he’s not okay. he nods though, because keith means physically and by dumb luck -- and the misfortune of another -- shiro has only had the wind knocked out of him. for the other two? ]

No. [ his voice goes thick, regret souring it. ] They’re dead.

[ they’ll need to get them out. now or later, perhaps with adi’s help. he glances down on the thought, looking to the ruined corpse of the photographer he briefly knew, only to jerk back when something scurries out of the dead man’s mouth. it has an extended neck that bends at a sharp angle, a red body and the tiniest head. and wings. it has fucking wings. ones that it uses immediately as it flies toward shiro.

he yells short and sharp as he swats at it. the movements are too abrupt; they almost have him losing his balance to go plummeting. ] Fuck. [ he regains his balance as the evil weevil goes flying off and then he looks to keith again, eyes wide, expression beseeching. ]

Get me out. [ hurry, hurry, hurry. ]

keith's birthday; backdated to oct 23

[earthshine]

[ the birthday bash is a success. so far. nothing ever goes quite so smoothly in this universe, so shiro is ever so slightly on guard. it helps though, that they’re back in the apartment, settling down and presumably, spending the rest of the festivities in shiro’s bedroom. keith’s there now, set up on the floor with two sets of plastic carving utensils, two large pumpkins -- keith’s 1.4 lbs heavier than shiro’s, hmph -- and some trash bags. as for shiro, he has a little something else to retrieve from the kitchen.

he tried. he really tried to follow the recipe and duplicate the cute cupcake design he stumbled across while searching the internet for birthday sweets. a chocolate cupcake with a slab of blue frosting and topped with a rainbow candy strip looked one step above simple. even shiro could pull that off.

nailed it?

he frowns at the single cupcake that he’s hidden in the back of the cupboard, behind the box of lucky charms and stacks of ramen. okay, so perhaps it’s a bit lopsided but… -- he sticks a candle into the glob of blue and picks it up, along with a handheld lighter, to then walk back to his bedroom.

he hopes keith is having a good time. checking out a local pumpkin patch is pretty tame for a nineteenth birthday, maybe even too juvenile for the adult that keith clearly is. shiro’s still nervous and stuck in hover mode though, unwilling to let keith venture too far and overexert himself, even if his injury is nowhere near the life-threatening damage of a month ago. keith seemed to enjoy himself? beating the corn maze had them both smiling and even with the seemingly endless amount of cut-out photo ops scattered around the patch that shiro of course turned into a challenge, keith didn’t come off as anything short of delighted. shiro has a lot of photographic evidence in his phone displaying just how delighted keith was with those antics. so hopefully, an unimpressive cupcake and a quiet evening in won’t ruin the momentum.

pausing outside his door just long enough to light the candle, he pockets the lighter and then nudges the door open. he grins, slipping inside and clicking the door shut with his foot. well, keith did say once that he wanted to hear shiro sing more, so: ]

Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you -- [ he reaches the makeshift canvas made out of cut garbage bags and lowers down. ] Happy birthday dear Keith… [ cross-legged and sitting now, he extends his left hand, holding out the cupcake. ] Happy birthday to you.

[ the make a wish implied in the large smile he adopts as the last of his voice trails. ]

[marmoron]

[ to put it simply, keith is taking this pumpkin carving business far too seriously for what ought to be a fun birthday activity. it's not that he's overly concerned about getting the jack-o-lantern perfect, but more that this whole experience that shiro's put together for his surprise birthday hang out means more to keith than he knows what to do with. he doesn't normally make any kind of production about his "special" day and would have been entirely content with hearing just a plain and simple happy birthday from shiro. in other words, his expectations for the date are either low or absent to begin with, and having so much thought and care put into the occasion teeters on overwhelming if he allows himself to think about it on a more than superficial level.

not that he's been able to keep his feelings completely in check -- his cheeks hurt from smiling, his ribs are threatening to hurt from all the laughing, but more damningly? his heart feels so incredibly full with unnecessary sentimentality when he glances at their two enormous pumpkins sitting sitting side-by0side. why is he like this? keith couldn't say. he doesn't think he's prone to getting overly emotional, and refuses to let something as normal as a pumpkin get the better of him.

which is to say by the time shiro gets the door open and starts his singing, he'll catch a momentary glimpse of keith squinting down his pumpkin, carving tool in hand like he's about to draw out battle plans. ]

Huh?

[ is all keith manages before his attention is redirected and instantly grows warm around the cheeks. very genuinely, he doesn't know where to look. there's an oddly melted looking cupcake held out in his best friend's hand that has the unmistakable air of having been hand-made, and just a little above that, there's one of shiro's warm smiles illuminated by candle light. keith blinks, stares as he tries to process any of this without short circuiting. this is all.... so much? too much? remembering to breathe, he quickly glances back down at the tragic cupcake to take all of its glory in in as neutral of an expression as he can muster.

such a pity, then, that keith's never had a decent pokerface.

face still stuck in that shy, caught and shocked expression, it's at the end of the birthday song and silent motion to make a wish and blow out the candle that another emotion bleeds through: endearment.. the cupcake may look like it's gone through a war, but keith's never seen anything so perfect in his life. he looks up and smiles like he's just been given the sun, voice choked up. ]

You made this ... for me? [ as stupid as the question is, it doesn't snap keith out of his dazed state of mind. fuck. he clears his throat, trying to sound normal again and is only partly successful. ] You didn't have to? [ wait shit, does that sound unappreciative? he backtracks, flushing a little harder. ] I mean, it's wonderful. I just mean.. you already did so much.....

[ fuck fuck fuck, breathe. make a wish like a good boy. he closes his eyes, falling back onto the script and thinks. given everything, keith supposes his wishes would be well spent on shit like saving the universe, going home, fending off the apocalypse together, but in the moment he closes his eyes he sees the day spent together having fun and easily makes the self indulgent wish of having more of those together. not like birthday wishes come true, right?

eyes open and he blows out the candle then with a sheepish smile. ]

Okay. [ a beat, then he carefully takes the cupcake out of shiro's hand to appraise every imperfection with a delighted smile that he hopes is at least partly hidden from shiro's line of sight. ] .... This is.... really something, Shiro. [ laughter bubbles out of him, as gives he cupcake a sniff. there's a distinct burnt chocolate whiff about it, that only wamrs keith's smile further. ] I kind of want to preserve it forever.

[earthshine]

[ already did so much by taking keith to a pumpkin patch and baking him a cupcake that looks like a five year old decorated it? shiro gives keith a look; all smiles but clearly not buying into the concept that this is anything spectacular. he wonders if he’ll get the same kind of response when the pizza arrives. chicago-style deep dish pizza is impressive, he’ll admit, so another you shouldn’t have isn’t outside the realm of possibility.

oh, right, and the gift. there is an actual gift, wrapped precisely with tight, crisp lines and a red tie done up in a simple over-easy bow. the contents are, again in shiro’s opinion, nothing amazing. he doesn’t have the budget to go shopping anywhere more high-end than ross or amazon, not when his pool of money needed to be divided between pumpkins, cupcake supplies and pizza delivery. now though, he’s putting together a new -- business? a different way to make money, at least. by christmas, he’s hoping to have made enough to properly spoil his best friend with something better than what’s in the amazon delivered box hidden under his bed.

it isn’t the time to dwell on it, however, and shiro reminds himself of this as keith blows out the candle, to then pluck the cupcake from him. keith’s sweet like this: clearly touched with that delighted smile and warmed face. cute is the next word that comes to him and that’s -- fine. it’s true, of course, so there’s nothing particularly strange about him seeing the obvious. still, the word pings at his self-consciousness and as if chastised for being caught thinking it, he drops his gaze from staring at keith’s smiling, laughing mouth, looking to his pumpkin instead.

he grabs at it and pulls it closer to himself, nudging it right up against his folded legs. thankfully, keith says something so ridiculous that shiro doesn’t even have to fake it; the laugh is genuine. ]

If it looks like that freshly baked, imagine how it’d look in a few days.

[ they deal with enough monsters as it is. they don’t need to be housing a cupcake monstrosity too. he grins, picking up the carving knife. he hasn’t decided what on earth he’s going to carve into this pumpkin, but gutting it and cleaning it come first anyway. ]

So snap a picture if you must, but please -- take a bite and put it out of its misery. [ if you dare that is. shiro looks up briefly to grin, only to look right back down to his pumpkin, jamming the knife into the top and beginning to circle the stem. ]

hermy the wormy (december tdm)

[marmoron]

[ if keith is being entirely honest, mobage aren't exactly high on his list of what he'd consider fun, but sure he'd gotten the message from pam like everyone else. did he click the link to download the app? not at first. but it was an inevitability whenn shiro started playing the game and couldn't stop bragging about his new high score.

where the conversation could have ended with rolled eyes and a bit of teasing... that's just sadly not how his friendship with shiro works. shiro sets the records, keith tries to break them. they egg each other on in the spirit of friendly competition and though this is far from being anything like the flight sims back at the garrison, the low stakes of it also make it seem even funnier to shock shiro by knocking him off his number one spot in the rankings while he's stuck in a security team meeting.

for the amount of showing off shiro's been doing about his high scores though, the game is surprisingly easy. just get hermy the wormy chomp chomp chomping away at his food and -- well, it's kind of satisfying, huh? the admittedly kind of strange when the meals get progressively putrefied, but an hour and a half of non-stop play later, keith frankly isn't doing a whole lot of thinking about anything. his fingers are a blur, tapping on his screen to get hermy to his next rotting meal as he checks out his score.

a few more bites and then it'll be a record, he's pretty fucking sure. grinning to himself, he rolls onto his stomach on the couch, legs kicking in the air as he goes through the home stretch. he doesn't even look up when the door to the apartment opens and closes. eyes glued to the screen, he merely shouts over: ]

Shiro? That you?

[earthshine]

[ fucking finally. shiro thought that meeting was never going to end. security for adi is a serious matter - though, the shifts that have him occasionally checking curfew at the off-worlders’ apartment complexes is not – so, any briefing that tightens up their surveillance and makes them a better team overall, is of course important. up until this point, shiro’s been dutiful in putting his all into his job. the turning point? a new app on his phone.

being stuck in an hour meeting that’s gone over fifteen minutes is torture to sit through, when he knows, he knows he can’t possibility get away with sneaking in a round or two. phone shut off and in his coat pocket hanging ff the back of his chair, shiro’s prepared for the meeting. not that it actually does any good. it can’t, because while the phone is out of immediate reach, it still keeps the majority of shiro’s attention anyway. so he learns nothing. retains nothing. he’s in and out of awareness, practically squirming in his seat with hands balling on his knees by the time the meeting is adjourned.

hermy the wormy, here he comes.

upon turning on his phone and opening the app though… shiro’s excitement abruptly dims. his high score is no longer leading the scoreboard. no. the top slot belongs to… ]

Keith. [ he practically spits it out, eyes narrowing at his screen. he should be happy for him. distantly, somewhere buried in his mind, he knows he should be congratulating his best friend, just as he used to any time he checked in on the sim scores and found another one of his records knocked down a peg. keith’s focus and determination to surpass any challenge laid down before him is inspiring. shiro’s always loved that kid’s drive… but not here. here, shiro takes this personally.

he was in a meeting. keith knew he was in a meeting. so keith – what? conspired behind his back, made sure shiro was distracted and wouldn’t be able to defend his record, before flooding the game with attempts to take shiro down? cheater. it’s irrational and petty and downright nonsensical, but wounded pride leads to a sense of failure which then turns ugly on a feeling of betrayal.

the walk from adi headquarters to apartment complex a is short, but within those few blocks, shiro’s managed to spin this beyond redemption. he’s fuming. so to walk into their apartment and find keith sprawled out on the couch, huddled over his phone with the sound effects of an all too familiar game filling the space is… not good.

for a split second, he feels the urge to break something. the door? maybe punch the wall beside it? or actually, snapping keith's phone in half sounds pretty good. however, that violence lapses in the next moment and he breathes a little steadier, although the frustration doesn’t leave him entirely. ]

Saw your score. [ he doesn’t slam the door shut but it does click closed with enough force to interrupt the sound of the game with a loud bang. shiro doesn’t bat an eye at it, instead maintaining his frown. coolly now: ] Hope you enjoyed it. It’ll be short-lived now that I’m able to play.

[marmoron]

[ if keith weren't so preoccupied with hermy eating through a moldy chocolate cake, maybe he'd have picked up on the red flags. the scowl, the arctic reception, the threat -- all of that's plainly on display for everyone else to register except keith who is still too busy thumbing and tapping away at his phone, getting hermy to his next decaying meal. he laughs, not even taking his eyes off the screen as he shifts upright to make a little room for his best friend to sit on the couch beside him. ]

Yeah? Big words, deep dish. I'm --

[ as hermy chews through the last of his moldy cake, the music suddenly changes to the double time pressure music of the fifteen second bonus stage where every meal is worth double points. keith cuts off mid-thought, shoulders hunching as he concentrates. ]

Ha! You're never gonna catch up now.

in the hive.

[earthshine]

[ it’s strange being on a mission without keith at his back. they’ve split up plenty, both in skirmishes against the galra and during adi investigations, but the sentiment is the same: it feels wrong to go at it alone. a lot of it has to do with their last mission to dogtown. he trusts keith to handle himself in most instances but since one of those cursed boars managed to catch keith with a tusk, shiro’s been hopeless in his concern. shiro tries not to hover to the point of suffocation – and he’ll just wince at that choice of wording.

he doesn’t want to be that guy; shiro had that guy in his life for a good while, who wanted to bubble wrap him in comfort and safety. no matter the intention or the argument that it stemmed from a – supposed – good place, that kind of care was difficult to stomach. shiro doesn’t want to drive keith even further away than he already has by smothering him – again, poor wording – with parameters and too frequent check-ins, so this volunteer mission to some abandoned warehouses? shiro bit his lip and didn’t say a word the first time he caught sight of a familiar mullet.

so he’s here too? figures. keith has been dead set on taking this ren person down since she landed on adi’s radar.

similarly to how shiro’s been handling the past two weeks, shiro tries to give keith buffer room. not similarly to the past couple of weeks though, is that shiro doesn’t disappear as he has with extra shifts and long hours at the canteen until he can’t risk curfew. here, he shadows keith as much as he can while also extracting victims and… bodies. he wants to make sure he’s okay. he needs to make sure he’s okay. fuck, he shouldn’t even be here, not when both his hands are busted. is that why keith resorts to stomping a victim’s face in? the creepy crawlies and flutter of winged things coming out of the dead body’s mouth have to be stopped somehow, right?

yards away and beyond a number of rowed shipment boxes, shiro hears it clearly enough; amazingly, unfortunately, the sickeningly crush of teeth and tissue beneath keith’s boot carries all the way to him. it’s gross. it’s wrong. it’s – over.

oh.

keith turns away and he’s hurrying out of the warehouse. shiro follows, of course he does. the wide berth is forgotten and he doesn’t think much of hiding as he exits the building, turning his head one way and then the other to spot – ]

Keith.

[ whispered and barely there. said boy is bent over and retching, shiro’s own stomach churning at the sound of it. they’ve held a handful of conversations in the past two weeks, all of which stilted and half entertained before being sidelined. that same awkwardness they’ve fostered between them shows here, in how shiro hesitates to even approach keith. but keith’s body gives another heave and concern for keith’s wellbeing overtakes shiro’s concern that keith might actually hate him a little. he’s walking over before he can think to stop and then he’s beside keith, wanting so badly to touch him, rub his back and hold the hair away from his face but…

would keith even let him? ]

You’re okay. Everything’s fine. Just get it out and then we’ll sit down for a bit. [ tentatively, he places his palm on keith’s upper back, repeating in low, soothing notes: ] You’re okay.

[marmoron]

[ everything is fine. everything is fine. keith’s been repeating that to himself an awful lot in recent weeks, has he slept well? no. should he be resting? yes. but the physical deterioration of his health and his state of mind just don’t matter in the face of the one thing that’s kept him going since shiro strangled him in the apartment: do whatever it takes to get to whoeever or whatever created that fucking worm game.

as far as obsessions go, it turns out that keith is good at having those when he’s restless and (frankly) barely keeping himself from having a breakdown. as far as existantial threats go, it’s easy enough to know how to fight when the enemy is purely external. whether that be an asshole cadet who speaks out of turn about keith’s parents or an alien warlord with entire armadas of weapons capable of vaporizing entire planets -- keith gets to assume there’s a certain degree of stability there in that he never has to question his own intentions or the intentions of those who are ostensibly his friends and allies.

this thing with ren was different. he doesn’t even begin to understand how a cyber attack on adi’s intranet turned into a biological one with gungal growths, or how a fucking mold is able to hijack one’s personality but even if he understood the mechanisms, it wouldn’t really address the fracturing of keith’s reality. shiro would never hurt him, shiro is the one person in keith’s life that he can trust unconditionally. now there are asterisks and fine print on the foundation of trust they have built up together. keith had always, perhaps stupidly, assumed that cracks would only ever appear intentionally -- which is to say, that it’d be entirely, wholly deserved.

funny. what happened wasn’t either of their faults and somehow keith has even less of a clue of how to handle it, except to brush off every single attempt to discuss it like it’s the fucking plague and indtad hyperfocus on taking down the real threat. the real problem.

so now that they’re finally here in this warehouse dealing with the problem, why are things still not okay? there’d been an almost manic energy about him when trying to kill every single insect in the warehouse, but somehow all of that’s gone, burnt out with a single frantic stamp on a face hemorrhaging bot flies and weevils. it’d only taken a second of staring at the shattered jaw, slick and shiny with the entrails of crushed insects before violent nausea had his stomach churning.

when was the last time he threw up anyway? it feels horrible, burning his throat as he heaves. but of course, he doesn’t even get to do this in private. he freezes when he hears shiro’s voice, then ducks his head in some childish maneuver. if all those nights of being left entirely alone have anything to say, wouldn’t it just be that shiro doesn’t want to deal with him anymore? he almost laughs then, when the next words out of his best friend’s mouth are you’re okay. everything's fine.

right.

everything's fine. just like he's been telling himself. except... ]

I'm not. [ tone completely deflated, keith leans harder on the front of the warehouse, left hand trembling from the added weight on his arm. ] I don't -- [ deep breath, deep breath. ] Wasn't supposed to be like this.

[earthshine]

[ that’s a good sign: keith doesn’t shrug off shiro’s hand or duck away. that inaction likely has to do more with him being too preoccupied trying to breathe through the upheaval of his stomach, rather than him being wholly comfortable with shiro’s touch, but shiro is desperate enough for a win that he’ll take what he can get. that small sense of victory dims just as quickly as it comes however, at those fragmented explanations. yeah, keith isn’t okay, is he? stupid. the insult is reserved solely for shiro himself. he meant for it to be consoling, to give keith some semblance of stability during the sickness of his body, but… considering everything keith has been through, it’s almost patronizing of him to throw that at him, when it’s as far away from the truth as it can be.

shiro physically winces as the reprimand of his own thoughts land, but he doesn’t let himself wallow in it, instead regrouping quickly to try again. ]

I know. [ his own voice trembles now, grief and guilt weighing him down to the point that he can practically feel it dragging down his shoulders and hanging his head lower. ] Nothing has gone right since…

[ … when? he falters on the words. since shiro nearly murdered him and destroyed his hand? since the goring of his midsection a few months ago? since they found themselves in this cursed reality? or perhaps before all that, back in their own universe. when was the last time keith hasn’t been royally screwed over by the universe? when was the last time he was truly carefree and happy and unhurt?

shiro chews on his bottom lip, indecisive and completely lost on how to answer his own line of questioning. the pause is extending too long though and catching it before it turns into awkward silence, shiro exhales heavily and finishes with a quiet: ]

For awhile now. [ he looks from keith’s hunched form to the tremble of that poorly bandaged hand and swallows hard. okay. time to redirect. ] But c’mon. [ still tentative and careful, he slips his hand from keith’s back to his shoulder, before dipping lower to touch his triceps for an encouraging nudge. ]

Let’s sit for a few, okay? It’ll help. [ there’s no good place for it, really. no benches, no curb; there are some crates a few paces away from the building though. either way, shiro only wants to get keith away from the warehouse and the mess pooled by it. ]

new year, new you

[marmoron]

[ the amount of advertising on tv is ridiculous. keith rarely ever watched the stuff bak home so he doesn't know if it was just as bad in their reality, but it seems ever fifteen minutes there's an interruption in the broadcast just to try and get him to buy something. ordinarily, he would have just turned off the tv and gotten up, but there's a special documentary on tonight about the history of sasquatch and... well, shut up.

that's it. that's the whole argument. shut up. keith doesn't have to justify his guilty pleasures to anyone.

but even so, it's starting to grate on him when one of the world's most eminent primatologists is cut off just to advertise some bullshit keith doesn't need. as if on cue though, an ad for "things of beauty" starts to play. thanks to some over zealous marketing campaign and a bloated budget on their part, keith's seen this ad playing between shows and even on youtube. it's easy enough to dismiss the thing as irritating for its ubiquity, but for whatever reason it's gotten keith thinking in general about things he wants to change this year.

not for the first time, he's circled back to shiro's comment back in the bar about his shitty effort levels. the comment still stings slightly, but he doesn't have a proper argument. which is to say, keith's finally decided new year, new me and downloaded grindr.

as the advertisements continue to play, keith takes a deep steadying and finally clicks on the app to register an account. though.... even if he has this account, who's to say anyone's going to want to hang out with him? keith's never exactly been confident in his body, and even though he's bulked up a little, there's nothing exercise can do to make parts of his chest look less small.

still holding the phone in one hand, he pulls at the collar of his shirt with the other to look down his front. keith groans, not liking what he sees. the door clicks open then, and it's some kind of testament to keith's state of nipplr ennui that he doesn't even bother to straighten up and try to hide what he was doing. ]

Hey, Shiro.

[ after all, who else would it be? their other roommate hasn't been around in a while and keith's beginning to suspect he's gonna have to add a new name to the conspiracy board some time. slowly, keith lifts his head up and lets his t-shirt fall back down naturally against his chest. ]

You ever try one of these dating apps?

[earthshine]

[ what – what has he walked into? shiro’s sweaty and tired and hyper focused on getting a protein shake in him before kicking his feet up for some mindless youtube scrolling. it seems every reality holds true to january being the worst month in any gym. at least he got his cardio in by running to machines and benches the moment they finally, finally opened up. ah well, give it a few weeks, and then the new year’s resolutioners will lose sight of this new year, new me thing.

so back to the initial question: what has he walked into? the answer is eluding him. there at the door, one step in and hesitating on the next, shiro stares over at the couch where keith sits, just short of sticking his head inside the collar of his shirt. is shiro interrupting something or…? keith’s acknowledged him though. the sound of his name knocks shiro back into motion and he gets himself inside, closing the door behind him before flicking the lock into place. ]

Hey.

[ the strap of his gym duffle slides off with a shrug and he leaves it there, plopped on the ground next to the kitchen counter. he keeps right on walking to turn into the kitchen itself and gets as far as the fridge before a question is lobbed at him. one hand on the fridge’s handle and he pauses there, processing, processing…

why does he have the sudden suspicion that he’s going to regret coming home? ]

Briefly. [ gaze deliberately kept away from keith, shiro gives a tug and then snatches the almond milk off the second shelf. ] The one I used hasn’t been created yet. [ chemistry, he thinks it was called? it made finding out who was available and interested amongst the garrison pool far easier. and quicker, which suited a young, more amorous shiro fine for about five days before he deleted the service and went the route of less chat bubbles and less dick pics.

he sets the carton next to the blender and goes about getting a banana, the chocolate protein powder container, the jar of peanut butter, all the while steeling himself, not wanting to ask, but knowing he has to: ]

Why? [ he does a moderate job of sounding casual and calm ] Which one are you looking at trying?

[marmoron]

[ eyes still on his phone screen, keith replies fairly nonchalantly with a little sigh. ]

It's called Grindr.

[ maybe shiro isn't aware of the reputation this particular dating app has, who knows. but once again, keith is too preoccupied with his ennui to actually be worried about what shiro might have to say about his app choices. thumb scrolling through the info pages describing how the app works, he's then brought to his very empty profile page. keith fills in the boxes for height, weight, ethnicity, body type then blinks at position. after a moment of staring, he continues to fill out looking for and relationship status. frowning, he finally glances over towards shiro and turns the phone screen towards him. ]

Am I doing this right?

[ for the most part, the profile is filled out correctly, but notably under position, keith has typed out: on the couch and looking for reads: a good first time with someone who won't mind if I keep my shirt on. ]

end of january. cw: body dysmorphia, self-harm, mention of drug use ( see top for full list )

[earthshine]

[ new year, new me. three weeks now and it’s become the mantra to live his life by. before, shiro used to twist his lips and frown at anyone who set a new year’s resolution for themselves, only to putter out by early february. embarrassing. disappointing. quitter. he’s one of those people now. someone who looked upon the new year as an opportunity and two, three weeks later, decided the effort toll wasn’t worth it. fuck, it’s still january, isn’t it? pathetic. once upon a time, shiro would take any setback and use it as fuel to overcome. failure wasn’t an option back then. but now… – shiro cocks his head and stares at his image there in the bathroom mirror, thinking that some challenges are an impossibility.

he tried. he truly tried.

he increased his hours at the gym. he dumped every box of sugary cereal. he met a guy who knew a guy who hooked him up with a bottle of tren. three weeks and his muscle mass has already shot up, so has the firmness. that stubborn pinch of skin around his midsection has disappeared, but some of that might be contributed to the fact that he hasn’t eaten and drank more than a sip of water in two days. stupid. maybe, but dehydration has his skin tighter and his muscle composition standing out. he almost looks good…

but then there’s a scar. and another. and another. and another…

that’s what that cursed thing whispered to him in the warehouse two days ago. it’ll never be enough. every cut corner and every obsessively counted rep and calorie. muscle can change, fat can change, but ruined skin is ruined skin.

and you’ll never be enough.

to who? he’d ripped the lamb from its stalk shortly thereafter and next, stomped on its corpse turned flesh phone. there was no undoing it though. the words stuck and shiro’s been spiraling these past two days. he’s kept to his security job, only to keep up some illusion that he’s fine, but once home, he’s been shutting himself away, always with the shoddy excuse that he’s tired. it isn’t a lie, technically. his insomnia has only been made worse by the drug use. the drop in endurance is another side effect. as is the acne along his upper back and the bit of thinning to his floof.

fuck, he looks terrible.

he knows keith worries. he also knows it’s only a matter of time before keith decides the excuse doesn’t fly and does something impulsive like kicking the door down. but shiro continues to dally in his misery, rather than make any effort to pull himself from it. here, shirtless and dressed only in a pair of black boxer-briefs, he turns this way and that, gaze never straying from his mirrored image. new year, new me, right. he became a new me two years ago and there’s no coming back from that. this is who he is now. no amount of peppy advertisement can motivate him beyond that. he shouldn't even be repeating that anymore; adi figured out those advertisements were cursed. he’s past reason though. he’s broken just as sendak said. worthless. ugly. less than anything anyone would ever want.

anyone?

he breath catches and then he’s laughing miserably, thinking about how he might’ve had a chance at something, but he fucked that up too. he lost it to some jacked nobody who definitely doesn’t deserve someone like keith. ]

But neither do you.

[ he sees his lips forming around the words but it’s almost like it’s someone else saying them. increased aggression, that’s another side-effect, and it lands here with a throw of his purple-lit fist. by the time the last bit of shattered glass tilts free to crash to the sink, shiro’s already backed against the wall and sliding down into a defeated plop. he stares at his right hand still alight in terrifying promise and thinks that maybe there is a way to erase the scars afterall.

it’s with a detached sort of fascination that shiro glances down at the criss cross of raised, poorly knit tissue on his left pec. maybe he can smooth it out? yes. yes he can. without another thought, he lies his galra index and middle over one line and presses in hard, gritting his teeth for one, two… done. he rips his hand away with a pained gasp, one that only escapes louder when he immediately goes back in to cover the other line. he can do this. he can get through this. it’ll be worth it in the end… won’t it? ]

[marmoron]

[ gloucester tends to be abysmal most months, but the new year's kicked off in a way that's left keith feeling demoralized. if he's being honest with himself, maybe that feeling's been there since ren. far from dislodging, it's gone and buried itself deeper and deeper. maybe give or take five years, keith will finally be able to laugh about the actual worst date in the history of the universe, but right now it's hard not to take everything this reality throws at him personally.

he's stewing, but for once keith chooses not to take the route of violent catharsis. after how he handled himself at the warehouse last month, keith decides to be a bigger person and sit out. wait until he;s clearer headed before punching and kicking the next existential threat. frankly, he's proud of himself -- that is right up to the moment he sees that shiro will be going.

that makes him hesitate. keeping an eye on his best friend's back is keith's most important priority here.... but lately that's starting to seem unwanted. for at least a little while, it'd seemed like shiro was done avoiding him after the assault on the couch, but apparently old habits die hard. it stings of course, but everything stings of late. the healing wound on his chest, his hands, his pride, his self esteem -- the whole package.

but deep down keith wants to believe their friendship is still whole. shiro knows -- has to know -- that if anything's wrong that he can talk to keith about it. the fact that shiro isn't doing that has to mean that there's nothing wrong. or maybe their friendship is so beyond fractured that everything's a secret now.

it's precisely because keith wants to believe so fervently that they aren't broken that he pushes off confronting shiro about anything. just giving shiro trust and respect becomes the mantra there, even as keith's noticing the changes. the sudden intensity of the workouts, the restrictive diet. but what exactly is there to say about any of it? clearly shiro just wants to bulk up and look good for someone. many someones if that comment about him downloading grindr had meant anything.

so keith does the stupid thing of fretting and not saying a damn word about it. smiling through every exhausted good morning that shiro's bothered throwing his way like a good boy and not asking questions when he comes back late at night to barricade himself in his room.

again, it hurts. but everything hurts. and maybe keith is starting to get desensitized.

still, there's only so much that can go willfully ignored when there's a sharp crack of shattering glass. keith jerks to look behind him in the direction of shiro's door. next beat, he slams his hand down on the faucet where he'd been pouring himself a cup of water. ]

Shiro?

[ the tentative call out gets no answer. keith hates that it isn't necessarily unusual. he abandons the glass at the sink to go stand by shiro's door. he doesn't call out again, but gives the knob an experimental twist. locked, of course, so keith tries louder. ]

Hey, is everything okay in there?

[ he gets an answer this time, only it isn't a verbal one. a strange smell wafts through the gaps between the door and its frame. sharp, familiar -- something that sets off alarms in his head before keith's even identified the scent for what it is. the twist on the door knob is more insistent this tie, as is the: ]

Shiro!

[ char. it smells like char and burning and keith loses whatever patience he had with the fucking door. he runs into it full tilt, bashing the lock with his shoulder and splintering wood. ]

Shiro, I'm coming in!

[ keith backs up a second time, teeth grit as he literally puts his foot through the door then reaches through the hole to unlock the door from inside. adi's probably going to be pissed about damages, but also? fuck adi for the millionth time. keith charges in, following the smell into the bathroom.he doesn't know what to expect here, all thought converging on the singular thought of wanting to find shiro okay.

what he finds though is an almost naked boy standing in front of a broken mirror with his back turned to the door ... and keith doesn't understand. ]

....Shiro?

[ it's almost comical. half a second ago, he'd sounded ready to pick a fight with whatever terrible bullshit was going on, but now? that energy putters out. lost. ]

[earthshine]

[ everything burns. the smell of charred skin clogs his nose and dries out his throat, each breath and each poorly muffled sound dragging harsher, to the point that he’s nearly suffocating on the putridness of it all. his eyes burn as well. tears pool and through the blur, he stares down at his pec, hand lifting to showcase the ripped shreds of what used to be skin. god, it looks awful. he honestly can’t say what he was expecting. to burn the raised, gnarled tissue away and leave something red and glossy behind? what he gets is a blistered patchwork of various shades of red: light pink to ruby red, the skin curls at the edges and cracks deeper along the line of where his fingers pressed the hardest. he’s burned through the epidermis down to the dermis, perhaps even further.

what has he done?

something’s wrong with him. he realizes this and yet, he doesn’t catch himself, because of course something is wrong with him. that’s what started all of this. that’s why he’s – fixing himself? he stares down at his pec, feeling the hard thump of his heart underneath seemingly working in tandem to the sharp sting that throbs and throbs there at his chest. is this fixing himself? it’s hard to think when his head is clouded with pain and doubt, and already, he’s looking to the next scar there in the dip of his pelvis, near his right hip bone. a little higher, a little deeper and maybe his opponent would’ve nicked something to have shiro bleeding out.

too bad. for who? shiro blinks and reignites his galra hand, breath laboring as his body tenses in anticipation –

shiro!

purple light snuffs out and shiro turns his head, although he can’t quite catch the angle to see out of the bathroom. now, without the sizzling of skin and his own groans filling his ears, he can actually hear keith. and what does he do? he panics. something splinters and while shiro goes to say, don’t, the word ends up garbled on a pained breath, because he’s made the mistake of shoving himself up to his feet, wincing, he ends up on his feet but hunching into himself as ruined skin pulls.

a stumble forward has him slamming his right hand to the sink’s counter while his left curls in close, trying to stem the roiling discomfort by pathetically hugging himself. one breath, two, and he’s onto his third stabilizing drag when there’s a crash. he forces himself to straighten up at the sound of a lock being undone and by the time there are footsteps behind him, shiro’s flicked his eyes to the mirror. chipped in the center point of contact, the rest of the mirror is shattered outward in a spiderweb design. shiro can see himself there, and he truly can’t decide if he looks better or worse now that his image is distorted.

shiro grits his teeth and stubbornly, refuses to turn around. instead, he takes an extended beat to gather himself and then, consciously keeping his voice neutral, he gives a dismissive: ]

Now isn’t a good time.

[ go away. please, go away. of course, it’s right about now that shiro’s gaze flicks to the bottle there next to the sink bowl on his left. without thought, he swipes at it with his left and immediately regrets it. where the wound burns the deepest, it’s misleadingly painless; nerve-endings obliterated, it’s numb… but the shallower edges pull with the movement and jar something awful. ]

Fuck.

[ at least he gets his fingers around the bottle. and with a curl of his palm, hides it away. ]