[ remember the other? shiro remembers every detail, so what is – oh. keith’s talking about that night, isn’t he? luckily for shiro, keith’s head is down, and so, the surprise turned guilty conscious that’s written all over his face is missed. right. that. he chews on the fatty tissue of his cheek and looks away, agitated and indecisive. he panicked then and he’s still panicking, all these weeks later, over the thought of what acknowledging that kiss – two kisses – would do to their friendship. he thought it’d be easier this way. if he didn’t remember some drunken shenanigans, then there’d be no expectation or obligation between them, they could simply continue on as they had before.

easier, right, this doesn’t feel easier.

has it been festering in keith’s mind as much as it has in shiro’s? does he catch himself wondering and wanting and thinking what if…? maybe. if anything, it seems like it’s been tormenting ketih, just as everything else shiro’s brought upon him as of late. shiro grimaces, lips pressed tight together on a frown. he could come clean. it could help clear every tangled, broken feeling between them and help them move past all of this. or it could do the opposite, is the cynical voice in him. and maybe some part of shiro wants that. if keith refuses to get angry with him about breaking his hand and squeezing his neck until it bruised, then perhaps keith learning that shiro’s been hiding from him in more ways than one, will finally earn shiro the tongue lashing he thinks he deserves.

no. he closes his eyes and draws a breath, once again repeating no to himself. keith’s overwhelmed. keith’s hurt. shiro doesn’t want to inflict more damage in some shitty ploy to feed his own self-destructive tendencies. opening his eyes now, he looks back to keith and finally, finally realizes that he’s still doing it. he’s still putting distance between them because he thinks that’s what keith should want, even though everything about keith says differently.

so he gets up. his clothing gets a good spray down as he pads inside, as well as his damp, yet mostly dry, hair. as he knocks his back to the tile and eases down to sit beside keith, shiro sighs, gently offering the two words he’s been dying to say for eons now. ]

I’m sorry. [ except, the apology isn’t for what happened two weeks ago. ] I’m complicating everything. [ and even as he says this, there’s a silent but, that he follows up with his explanation as to why he’s complicating everything. ]

Your forgiveness shouldn’t be this easy. [ a beat. ] I don’t know what I’m saying. [ back and forth, back and forth, he can’t seem to decide on a steady course. he frowns toward the center of the shower stall and draws up one knee, resting his forearm along it. ]

I just… I could’ve killed you. I don’t know how to accept that.