Archive of Our Own ^beta

   Shiro opens his eyes for the second time in his life.

   He’s tired, very tired, but something tells him he needs to move, so he does. Sitting up takes a while—especially with the jarring, empty space where his metal arm should be—but he manages. He wraps his remaining arm around his middle, trying not to look down at his body. His mind feels hollow, and try as he might, he can’t quite recall anything other than the vast, glittering expanse of Black's astral plane. He shudders, pushing down the leftover feelings of loneliness, of screaming into the void where no one could hear him until-

   Shiro blinks, lifting his head as he finally registers his surroundings. Dim, purple light fills the space, and Shiro lets his eyes trail over it. The black lion’s cockpit is cluttered. There are boxes shoved and stacked in the corner, two other makeshift cots besides his own, and... a very large wolf.

   Shiro stops breathing, every muscle frozen on instinct. The huge creature sits on its haunches barely three feet away, staring at him with piercing gold eyes.

   Fear catches up to him and he jolts back, heart kicking into high gear. There’s no place to run, and this body is too weak to fight. In his mind he brings both arms up but only one appears in front of him. He squeezes his eyes shut, tensed for the attack.

   A second passes, then another. Shiro takes a breath and opens his eyes. The wolf has stopped midstep, head tilted. It doesn't seem to be aggressive, so Shiro allows himself to breathe, lowering his hand. He’s shaking, hard.

  The wolf takes a step back, eyes shining with apology, and Shiro is transfixed at the human-like expression. His chest still heaves but the edge of his fear melts just a little. The wolf shifts again, letting out a low whine and looking quickly at the front of the cockpit. Shiro follows its gaze.

  The pilot’s chair is silhouetted against the light from the window, but from this angle Shiro can see the figure seated there. The unruly black hair is the first giveaway, as is the lean forearm and hand gripping the right control.

   The wolf makes its way to Keith’s side, nosing his arm, and Keith's head immediately snaps back to where Shiro is. Their eyes meet and Keith visibly relaxes, scratching the wolf behind the ears.

   “Good girl.”

   Keith’s voice is soft and hoarse, and it warms Shiro from the inside out. Slowly, Keith gets to his feet and moves around the chair, a soft smile on his face. He’s dressed only in a loose tank top and boxers, and Shiro would be appreciating it more if his heart hadn't sunk to his feet the second his mind registered the sight.

   Keith is beat to hell.

   He’s covered in soot, scrapes, and bruises. An angry red scar covers most of his cheek, and there's dried blood in his hair and on his forehead. A whimper leaves Shiro’s mouth and Keith’s face morphs to worry, though he doesn't move from where he’s braced against the seat.

   “Shiro-” Keith starts, but Shiro interrupts him.

  “Who did this to you?”

   It’s the only thought his mind can produce, and Keith drops his gaze to the floor. There’s a few beats of silence as Keith opens his mouth, then closes it, looking down at his bruised hands.

   “Haggar.”

   Shiro’s breath is gone. It takes a few tries to get it back, dread chilling him to the core, but Keith still won’t look at him.

   “You fought Haggar?”

   Keith fiddles with the seat cover, shrugging one shoulder. “Kind of.”

   Shiro understands. Haggar had a way of messing with you, twisting reality until you weren’t sure who or what you were fighting. His breathing quickens and he struggles to stand, making Keith look up, startled. Shiro manages a step but his knees buckle, and he barely catches himself on the back of the seat. The wolf disappears in a flash of light.

  “Shiro!” Keith yelps, “What are you doing?”

   “Let me see,” Shiro demands, heart dropping further as he sees Keith’s wounds up close. He crumples Keith’s tank top in his fingers and lifts it, revealing a swath of dark bruises. Shiro sways on his feet.

   “I’m ok,” Keith insists, still in that quiet, calm voice that infuriates Shiro. All it takes is Keith wrapping his hand around Shiro’s wrist to make him snap. Fear and grief tears through his chest and he can’t help but overflow.

   “You’re not ok, look at you!” he yells. “There could be internal bleeding, something could be broken…” he trails off, clenching his teeth. Keith; beautiful, kind, precious Keith, bears more marks of violence than he has ever seen.

   Regaining his balance, Shiro lifts his hand from the seatback and reaches out. Keith doesn’t move, but those violet eyes are locked on Shiro’s own. They’re so close Shiro can see the hitch in Keith’s breathing as his fingers touch his neck. Keith’s body is burned red and bruised blue, torn in places and cut in others. He stands tall but there is pain in every line of muscle, and in the edges of his eyes. Someone had laid hands to him with the intent to crush—to destroy—and a furious, helpless anger consumes Shiro.

   “I’ll kill her,” he hisses, fingers trembling as they trace Keith’s collarbone. “I’ll kill her and it still won’t be enough.”

   “Shiro, breathe,” Keith whispers, eyes pained, and it’s only the gentleness in his voice that loosens the bands in his chest.

   “W-Why aren’t you in the healing pods?” he asks.

   “The pods are gone,” Keith replies. “The castle’s gone. We’re on our way to Earth.”

   Shiro’s head spins. He feels Keith grab his shoulders, but it only drags another panic through his gut.

   “C’m sit down,” he slurs, reaching for Keith’s arm. “Someone should...no one tended your wounds.”

   Keith’s expression softens and he slips under Shiro’s arm. The warmth of his body blazes through Shiro’s skin, like fire-heat to frostbitten skin numb with cold. Keith takes Shiro weight, then staggers, hissing in pain. Shiro tries to pull away, but he can’t support the other boy while Keith is still holding his arm.

   Somehow, they make the few steps. Keith lowers Shiro to the bed, and after a few deep breaths, his vision clears. Keith is seated next to him, hunched over with fists clenched in his lap. He is struggling to breathe, and Shiro lays his hand on Keith’s nape.

   “Keith, you should lay down,” he says, and Keith’s eyes snap to his.

   “You were dead ,” he retorts, voice wavering. “I can handle a few bruises, I need you to rest.” He glares stubbornly at Shiro but there’s a deep exhaustion in his eyes. Shiro sighs.

   “It’s not just a few bruises, though,” he says, thumbing Keith’s mottled jaw. “If you can prop me up, I’ll patch you up a little.”

   Keith’s shoulders slump. He leans down and pulls a first aid kit from under the cot, placing it on the bed. It’s half empty and Shiro wonders where it all went, since it obviously wasn't used on Keith. Suddenly the gaps in his memory become more glaring, lost time trailing through his fingers like sand.

   “How long has it been?” he blurts, “Since I was...found.”

   Keith glances up from the kit. “A couple days.” He finishes unpacking the kit and scoots closer, reaching out to get Shiro settled against the wall. Shiro misses the touch as soon as the hands fall away, but he doesn’t show it. There is another flash of light and Shiro flinches as the wolf appears on the bed. Keith turns to pet it, burying his fingers in the electric blue fur.

   “Sorry, I never got to introduce you yet,” he says. “Shiro, this is Cosmo. Cosmo, this is Shiro.” He gestures with his hand between them and Shiro can’t help but smile. “We found her in the Quantum Abyss.”

   “We?” Shiro asks, holding out his hand for Cosmo to sniff.

   “My mother and I,” Keith replies, gaze drifting back to Shiro. “You really don’t have any of...his...memories, do you?”

   Shiro shakes his head, a bitter taste in his mouth. “I wish I did,” he says. “I’m missing…” so much about you, he wants to say, but the words get caught in his throat. He reaches for the first aid supplies instead.

   “I might not be much help with one hand,” he admits, “but if we work together, it’ll be something.”

   Keith nods, eyes lowered, and Shiro moves his legs so Keith can settle between them. Keith moves without hesitation, knees brushing Shiro’s thighs as he gets comfortable. The close proximity punches Shiro in the gut, taking his breath away, and he swallows hard as Keith pulls the tank top over his head. He gets stuck near the end, wincing in pain until Shiro moves to help him. Finally the fabric is free and Keith is mostly bare, practically in his lap, and Shiro’s heart pounds.

   Keith has always been beautiful, but now he’s radiant, even as battered as he is. He holds himself differently, no longer with the raw, reckless edges he once had. His body, though still lean, has filled out, broader and taller. The soft lighting makes his skin glow, and Shiro can’t tear his eyes away.

   His chest aches.

   Every inch of Shiro’s soul cries out to be held, to be tenderly touched, starved after being in the astral plane. He has never felt so small, or so weak. He wants to beg, to cry out hold me, please! But he doesn't. Keith is hurt and needs help—needs Shiro.

   Keith is silent as Shiro cleans his wounds, helping once in a while as Shiro clumsily applies creams and bandages. It’s painful for Keith and exhausting for Shiro, and by the time he’s finished, Keith is slumped sideways, head resting on Shiro’s chest.

    Shiro aches down to his bones, but he summons the strength to shove the used supplies to the foot of the bed. They can clean up later, but Keith is pliant in his arms now, half asleep, and Shiro lies them both down. Keith’s breath hitches at the movement and Shiro soothes him, slipping a hand behind his head to draw him close. Keith hums softly and relaxes, though his breath still rattles in his chest. Shiro wants to wake Keith up, to demand he tell him what happened and who he has to kill. But Keith snuffs quietly and nuzzles closer, and Shiro’s anger quells. Keith’s well-being comes first. Vengeance can wait.

   He allows himself to relax, and with Keith in his arms, he falls asleep.

********

   In the days that follow Shiro is caught staring at Keith more than once, but he still blushes hot every time. Keith doesn’t seem to be much better. For all his new maturity, he stutters once in a while when Cosmo shoves them together, or Shiro’s hands remain on his skin a bit too long while checking bruises. Getting to know Keith's mother is yet another wild unknown. She bears a striking resemblance to her son, and treats Shiro with a kind regard and dry humor he can't imagine she shares with strangers like him. Shiro learns about their years in the quantum abyss, and the soft rasp in Keith's voice echoes something new in his chest.

   There are unknown waters between him and Keith, and Shiro doesn’t know how to navigate it. Keith gives him soft looks like always, but there are times when his gaze is pained and laced with guilt. Sometimes, when Shiro pretends to be asleep, Keith will sit with his arms drawn around his stomach, head hanging. In his mind, Shiro is screaming, begging Keith to please let him in , but something stops him. His own mind is dark and empty, unable to recall anything since the fateful battle with Zarkon, since he-

   It all comes back to that, doesn't it? A part of Shiro is still dead. As broken as he is now, he’s can’t be the one to help Keith.

   The knowledge hurts more each time Keith touches him gently, or speaks to him with reassurances. Shiro can see him trembling sometimes, hear the waver in his voice that’s so close to breaking.

   He never does.

   Shiro wishes he would, and feels awful for it.

*******

   Shiro jolts awake and throws himself forward, only to lose balance and fall back down. Keith is there in an instant, fingers smoothing back Shiro’s damp hair as he gulps desperately for air. It’s almost routine now, so much so that they pushed their cots together. When one of them will inevitably wake up with nightmares, they can be comforted by the other until falling back into restless slumber.

   Slowly, the white spots fade from Shiro’s vision and he can just make out Keith’s form in the darkness. He fumbles out his hand and Keith catches it.

   “Hey.”

   “Hey,” Shiro wheezes, and Keith laces their fingers together, rubbing his thumb over the back of Shiro’s hand. It calms Shiro for a few seconds, before Keith speaks again.

   “They’re getting worse.”

   Shiro nods, even if Keith can’t see him. At first the nightmares were dull and muted bits of fear: falling, drowning, running with something chasing him, but this one was different. He doesn’t want to talk about it, but he figures it will do him good, and any show of trust that might make Keith open up more is worth it. Keith never talks about his own nightmares, just grits his teeth and shakes in Shiro’s arms, and the memory makes Shiro swallow his shame and force out the words.

   “I...we were fighting.”

   Keith’s hand stills.

   “There was this bright light and...I don’t really know what was going on but I was scared. I was hurting you and couldn't stop-” he releases a heavy breath. “I used to have dreams like that a lot, hurting you guys somehow. It’s the last thing I need right now.”

   Keith tugs on Shiro’s hand until he turns his head, staring into the darkness toward the other boy’s voice.

   “I’m not afraid of you,” Keith says quietly. “You know that.”

   Shiro nods, swallows down the lump in his throat. His mind still feels raw, straining and crumbling like a completed puzzle being picked up. The pieces break apart and fall. He doesn't know what they are but the flashes he gets when his fingers brush the picture scare him.

   Shiro lets go of Keith’s hand and reaches farther. He always seems to be reaching out, but he feels so lost and Keith feels like home. His hand lands on Keith’s shirt, latching on.

   “Keith, I would never,” he vows. “I would never hurt you.”

   He hears shifting, then Keith’s hands are cradling his face, bringing their foreheads together.

   “I know.”

******

   Krolia is a strong, calm presence on their journey. Shiro had forgotten how grounding a mother figure could be, and is too grateful for words. The trek to Earth is long and exhausting, and they’re not even halfway there, but between him and Keith, Krolia, and Cosmo, things are never boring.

   Occasionally they will stop on a planet to recharge and refuel, and the time spent with the rest of the team lifts his spirits. Keith's bruises are healing slowly, but when he's outside he puts a mask on for the rest of the team. Shiro doesn’t like it, but he understands.

   When it’s just the two of them, Keith is softer and more unguarded, though he still avoids Shiro’s gaze more often than not. Under no circumstances will he talk about the events before Shiro was resurrected, and goes so far as to clench his jaw and lash out when pressed. Deep down, Shiro resents the apparent lack of trust, but the look in Keith’s eyes melts it all away.

   They hold guilt and desperately-hidden pain, bottomless wells of sadness that sparkle in the starlight. They brighten just a bit when Shiro smiles at him, when he speaks softly and says he’s feeling better. Shiro clings to it, clings to whatever he can have. He doesn't want it to be taken away again.

   Keith goes to great lengths to care for him. He feeds Shiro, helps Shiro bathe, tucks him into the small cot at night, moving his own right beside it so Shiro won’t fall out. Shiro is ashamed for being so helpless, but he selfishly soaks up the love and attention. In return he tends to Keith’s physical wounds, but as they fade, the mental ones become more apparent.

   Keith flinches when Shiro comes up behind him, but the fear in his expression is quickly repressed. There is trauma written all over him, but when Shiro tries to ask what’s wrong, Keith directs the conversation away. It pains Shiro more than he wants to admit. He knows Keith is hiding something, but instead of letting Shiro in, he seems determined to bear the burden alone.

   Shiro replaces the bandages more gently at night, mourning the unseen wounds he cannot reach.

******

   “Can you feel her?” Keith asks.

   Shiro sighs, staring up at the darkened panels of Black’s ceiling. He and Keith sit side by side on the cot. The shared body heat is something Shiro thinks he can’t live without anymore, and the cockpit is peaceful and quiet. Too quiet.

   “No,” he finally says. “Whatever Allura did to get me out must have severed the bond too.” He turns to Keith with a sad smile on his face. “She’s all yours.”

   I’m not a paladin anymore.

   Shiro’s throat grows tight and he fights to collect himself. It’s all gone. His usefulness, his purpose; it was all cut away from him, just like his arm, his innocence, his humanity. Stripped naked and left in the cold with nothing.

   I can’t think of anything more fulfilling than being a paladin.

   The soft sound of his name pulls Shiro back. Keith is facing him, hand hovering over Shiro’s own. His violet eyes are earnest and tender, and Shiro can’t look away. Keith’s hand smooths over his own, then squeezes. Keith brushes Shiro’s cheek, a gesture so loving that Shiro’s walls crumble. He gives in to the starving cry inside him and slumps forward, melting into the shapes of Keith’s body. Keith’s arms wrap around him.

   “Everything’s gone,” Shiro murmurs into Keith’s shoulder.

   “Not everything,” Keith says fervently. “You still have your life, your memories, the team.”

   Shiro remains silent, digging his fingers into Keith’s shirt.

   “You still have me,” Keith whispers. “You’ll always have me.”

   It’s a plea, raw and desperate in a way that Keith rarely shows anymore, and Shiro lifts his head to meet Keith’s gaze. He cups the back of Keith’s neck, pressing their foreheads together.

   “You’re everything to me,” he murmurs, and Keith’s eyes widen. Shiro draws his hand forward and holds Keith’s chin gently, turning it to the side. The scar is still an angry red, but it's healing, and before Shiro realizes it, he’s leaning forward, pressing his lips to the edge of the mark. Keith lets out a soft gasp that would have been lost if they weren’t so close, and Shiro lifts his lips from the skin.

   Keith’s lips are so close. They are parted slightly, and Shiro can feel Keith’s soft breaths on his own cheek. His eyes drift up to see Keith already looking at him. For a few beats they just look, breathing together. Finally, something clicks into place, and they are closing the distance.

   The kiss is soft, dry, and warm, a light touch that has Shiro’s heart bursting with love. When they separate Keith makes a soft sound, wrapping his arms around Shiro’s neck. Keith’s body is still tense but his eyes have brightened, some of the desperate sadness fading away.

   “I’m not leaving you,” Shiro whispers, and Keith kisses him again.

*****

   Where they would be without Cosmo, Shiro has no idea. She’s a beam of sunshine and pure, innocent joy. Keith is laughing, talking in the universal puppy voice while Shiro blatantly stares. Keith laughs again and Shiro’s heart melts into a gooey puddle. Keith is just so beautiful. His hair is tied back in a small ponytail, dark strands framing his face, and Shiro’s in the middle of sighing blissfully when a movement catches his eye.

   Krolia is sitting against the wall, watching him with a smirk, and Shiro’s face goes instantly red. He coughs awkwardly, looking away in feigned disinterest, but he knows he can’t fool her.

   Cosmo disappears in a flash of light and appears next to Shiro, yipping in excitement. Shiro grins and ruffles her fur, making her tail wag furiously before she pounces. Shiro is caught off balance and stumbles. Keith rushes forward to catch him but the momentum is too great, and they both crash to the floor. Shiro is uninjured, but Keith cries out when his back slams the floor. Worried, Shiro tries to push himself up, but he can’t quite get his balance with one hand. He is chest to chest with Keith, weight pinning him down as Keith’s face contorts in pain.

   Shiro, please!

   Shiro gasps. He throws himself backwards, scrambling off Keith and against the wall. Keith pushes himself up, eyes wide, and Shiro’s world goes white.

   The crunch of Keith’s jaw under his fist, smoke, blinding light, the platform shifting under his feet-

   You’re my brother.

   I love you.

   “-ro?”

   Shiro dimly realizes he’s on the floor, curled up with his arm over his head. Gentle hands touch him but he jerks away, breath picking up again.

   He feels each punch or kick that connects with Keith’s body. His arm explodes, crawling up his body, making him a living weapon. He carves through the facility, aims it at Keith’s chest-

   Shiro’s throat is raw. Keith’s voice is panicked now, but it's too far away.

  “Just give up Keith.”

   Everything. The memories come flooding back. All the cracks are filled, but Shiro is falling apart. He gasps for air, sobbing so hard he nearly vomits. Something breaks through the haze and Shiro opens his eyes to see Keith crouched in front of him, hands on either side of Shiro’s face. He tries to jerk away but can’t move.

   “It’s alright, Shiro,” a voice says near his ear, and Shiro flinches violently.

   “Shhh. It’s ok, Mom’s holding you,” Keith says. Arms tighten around Shiro’s waist and he gasps again. Krolia’s large frame is warm against his back, safe and sturdy, and Shiro melts just a little.

   “No,” he mumbles, heart breaking and bleeding out over the floor. “No no no no. ”

   He stares into Keith’s eyes, reflecting the beautiful soul that has suffered so much, and at his own hand .

   “I did this.”

   Keith’s eyes fill with tears. “No! It was Haggar; you were controlled.”

   “You lied to me.” Shiro’s chest is caving, crushing his soul as the reality of what he has done hits him.

   “I’m sorry, I-” Keith’s voice gives out. “I didn’t know how to tell you without something like this happening.”

   Krolia’s fingers card through Shiro’s hair as she holds him close. His body shakes with sobs, tears spilling down his face.

   “At ease,” she soothes. Her voice is low and calm, but he thrashes in her grip.

   “Why are you holding me?” he cries. “I tried to kill your son!”

   Krolia doesn’t reply, just curls around him protectively, and Shiro can feel his heart crack.

   “I’m sorry,” he wails. He’s hyperventilating, repeating the words over and over until Keith forces him to breathe. Shiro’s eyes grow wide with another realization.. “You cut off my arm.”

   “I had to!” Keith says, looking wrecked. “It was controlling you, it was hurting you! ”

   “You should have...you should have just killed me,” Shiro gasps. “...let me fall.”

   The sound Keith makes is barely human. He throws himself at Shiro, grabbing his shoulders.

   “STOP IT!” he screams, chest heaving. “WOULD YOU HAVE KILLED ME? WOULD YOU HAVE LET ME FALL?”

   Shiro shakes his head, tears flowing uncontrollably. The expression on Keith’s face is anguished, and it sends another stab through Shiro’s heart as the memories line up.

   Krolia’s left hand remains in Shiro’s hair, but she loosens the arm around his waist to reach out to Keith. She cups his cheek, stroking with her thumb, and Keith crumbles. He crawls into Shiro’s lap and wraps his arms around his waist. He buries his face in Shiro’s neck and Shiro latches on with his only arm.

    Krolia puts her arms around the both of them. Her and Keith’s warmth, the rhythm of breaths and the weight of tight, loving arms is overwhelming. Shiro doesn't deserve this, he was supposed to protect, to care tenderly for, to be good.

   He clings to them, and cries.

******

   By the time they touch down on the next planet--a lush, vibrant place that reminds Shiro of Hawaii--he is feeling more stable, but he still cannot shake the hollowness that has taken over since the reveal. Keith has been more distant lately as well. He refuses to meet Shiro’s eyes and his hands shake in their movements.

   The inhabitants of the planet are welcoming, and since night has already fallen, the group is led to an elegant thatched lodge in the rainforest. They each get their own room, and Shiro strips off his clothes and falls into the soft bed immediately. The beauty of his surroundings and the soft night sounds lull him to sleep, but some time later he awakens with a start. At first he can’t tell what woke him, until he sees a familiar form in the now-open doorway, bathed in moonlight.

   “Keith?” he slurs, rubbing his eyes. “‘S’everything okay?”

   Keith doesn't reply, lingering at the door before taking a few hesitant steps to his bedside. Shiro pats the blankets and Keith sits down, a deep sigh leaving his lips. For a while they sit in silence, but Shiro is in no rush. He wants to know what’s bothering Keith, but just being here, existing together is something he’s missed.

   “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,”  Keith finally whispers, shame coloring his voice. “I had a nightmare...of falling and...you. I just had to come check on you. See that you were still-”

   Breathing, here, alive.

   If could be any of those things, maybe all of them, but Shiro understands. He reaches over and takes Keith’s hand in his.

   “I’m okay, Keith.”

   Keith remains silent. Slowly, he bows forward until his forehead rests on Shiro’s bare chest. Shiro feels a wave of affection and he smooths his hand up Keith’s arm and over his back, before settling on his hair. Keith’s skin is soft and sleepy-warm, and Shiro nearly drifts off again before a wet inhale breaks the silence.

      Keith’s cheek is wet where it’s pressed to Shiro’s ribs, and Shiro feels more than hears the first sob. It’s a single jolt in the body beneath his hands, and the second follows as a broken sound. Shiro soothes him gently, comforts as best he can, though his own chest caves with grief. Of all the sorrows Shiro has endured in life, none are as devastating as the feeling of Keith’s tears dripping onto his chest.

   “Keith,” he chokes out, though a small part of him is relieved. This has been a long time coming. “Baby, come here.” He rolls to his side and tugs on Keith’s shoulder, guiding him to lie down on the bed. Keith collapses against him and Shiro folds him tightly to his chest. Shiro tangles their legs together and locks his arm around Keith’s back, cradling his head to tuck into his neck.

   Keith cries harder, arms in a death grip around Shiro’s waist. “Shiro,” he gasps. His body is wracked with sobs, and Shiro has no words. Keith is crying his heart out, finally allowing the pain of the past few weeks to catch up to him. He needs to let it out, but the knowledge makes it no easier to hear the pleading, and the helpless grief in Keith’s voice. Shiro kisses his hair, his forehead, his wet cheeks. He holds him close to his heart and lets him cry.

   The last time Shiro saw Keith cry was in their early Garrison days, the first time Keith took him to the desert shack and was overcome with memories of his father. It was the pain of being left behind, of losing someone he loved, that always hurt Keith the most. Shiro had held Keith then, promising himself he would never leave him, and here he is making that promise again.

   They lie in the quiet night, Keith crying himself to exhaustion and Shiro giving wordless comfort. Eventually, Keith’s sobs grow weaker and he goes boneless, relaxing more into Shiro’s hold. Finally, he breaks the silence, voice so small and quiet, it’s a far cry from his usual strength.

   “I love you,” he says, face still hidden in Shiro’s neck. “Shiro, I love you, and I’m...hurting.”

   Shiro’s eyes fill with tears. “I know Keith,” he murmurs into Keith’s hair. “I love you too. So, so much.” Keith tilts up his head and they are kissing, pouring out their hearts in each urgent, yet tender, touch of lips.

   “We’re gonna be okay,” Shiro vows, brushing the hair from Keith’s face, and Keith’s eyes flutter closed. Shiro breathes deeply and focuses on their heartbeats. He’s warm, he has the boy he loves in his arms, and despite the pain, a warm hope blooms in his chest. The memories of the cold, barren astral plane are far away now, the harsh isolation can’t touch him. A smile plays on his lips.

   “Go to sleep, Keith,” he whispers. “We’re safe.”