[ 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.
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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.