[ keith is very content to keep his gaze fixed at a point other than shiro's face, but it's looking like shiro isn't on the same page there, huh? not surprising, given how this whole conversation gone, but the press of metal fingers hooking under his chin makes keith tense very briefly. unlike that time two weeks ago, the prosthetic feels warm on his skin, and coaxing rather than painful. it's still an extra beat before keith pushes away the unease entirely to breathe normally.
but he'd be lying if he said the galra arm was the only reason for the added skittishness. eyes locked on deep gray, keith swallows trying to silence every neuron in his head freaking out about the scant inches between their faces. shiro doesn't know. shiro doesn't remember. this isn't a prelude to kissing the way they did weeks earlier. heart racing, keith tries to keep his head blank of all thought, expression almost owlish as shiro bursts into relieved laughter and sweeps the hair away from his face.
ah. ah yes -- right. this is famiiliar. this is what they were doing before things got complicated and messy and tangled and --
i love you too
keith doesn't know what expression he's even pulling at this point, but maybe it doesn't matter because shiro closes the distance in that familiar way. hearing the words said back like that, looked right in the eye does a whole host of stupid things. a swoop in his stomach, a dull ache in his chest, then the flutter-flutter of warmth that starts to erode through whatever defenses keith had left in his system. stupid. shiro's said these words before ... but it hits different. maybe because they're both so fucking miserable and lonely.
the gentle pressure on his forehead lifts and keith looks up at shiro, daring for once to actually look at him longingly the way he did when he was sure shiro wasn't looking these past weeks. he doesn't smile -- not while part of him is just burning to force shiro to remember the night of the festival, but can he? should he? ]
Yeah?
[ his tone's gone wistful there as he glances down at his best friend's lips very briefly. ]
We're gonna take care of each other. No matter what, right?
no subject
but he'd be lying if he said the galra arm was the only reason for the added skittishness. eyes locked on deep gray, keith swallows trying to silence every neuron in his head freaking out about the scant inches between their faces. shiro doesn't know. shiro doesn't remember. this isn't a prelude to kissing the way they did weeks earlier. heart racing, keith tries to keep his head blank of all thought, expression almost owlish as shiro bursts into relieved laughter and sweeps the hair away from his face.
ah. ah yes -- right. this is famiiliar. this is what they were doing before things got complicated and messy and tangled and --
i love you too
keith doesn't know what expression he's even pulling at this point, but maybe it doesn't matter because shiro closes the distance in that familiar way. hearing the words said back like that, looked right in the eye does a whole host of stupid things. a swoop in his stomach, a dull ache in his chest, then the flutter-flutter of warmth that starts to erode through whatever defenses keith had left in his system. stupid. shiro's said these words before ... but it hits different. maybe because they're both so fucking miserable and lonely.
the gentle pressure on his forehead lifts and keith looks up at shiro, daring for once to actually look at him longingly the way he did when he was sure shiro wasn't looking these past weeks. he doesn't smile -- not while part of him is just burning to force shiro to remember the night of the festival, but can he? should he? ]
Yeah?
[ his tone's gone wistful there as he glances down at his best friend's lips very briefly. ]
We're gonna take care of each other. No matter what, right?