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He never did anything worthy of your love. He wasn't kind-hearted or good like you were, he's done nothing to deserve your love and you still stood by him.

He knew you'd come to your senses one day and leave him. You'd find somebody new, someone kind and loving like you, someone who played guitar and sang better than him and could write all the songs that would make you swoon.

He's never told you any of these doubts, in fear that if he voiced them, they would become true and you'd abandon him. He suspects you know though, those wayward glances you throw his way that are less loving, more worried, are clear indicators of the fact.

So naturally, he does the only thing he can think of to get these fears and worries and doubts out of his mind. He writes a song.

Keith has never been a songwriter. Out of everyone in the band, that was always your domain, maybe Pidge, if they were in a creative enough mood, or Lance if he wanted to make another dramatic proclamation of love to Allura, but mostly you.

He thought of asking you for helping before he even started. Right as he sat down with a breaking pen and worn-out notebook, he already had his phone in hand to text you. He paused mid-sentence, deleted, and instead responded to your morning "I love you!" text with an "I love you too".

Fast forward to later the same week, during band practice on a day when you were slightly late because of some unforeseen mishap (you'd already apologized a million times in the group chat and Keith made a silent promise to drive you to practice himself next time, even if practice was at his house like usual).

Lance, being Lance, was messing around with your drums despite Keith's protests. With a begrudging apology, Lance left your drums alone (and Keith rebalanced your drumsticks in just the spot you always liked) and turned to bothering Keith who was hunched in the corner over his notebook.

"Ooh, what's this?" Lance asked, peering over to look at the pages.

"None of your business!"

"Oh, I get it, I get it, you're writing a love song, gotcha," Lance teased.

"I'm not writing a love song!"

You'd walked in then, just in time. "Lance, stop bothering Keith."

Lance shrugged, winked at Keith, then walked off back to his keyboard.

"Hey," you whispered to Keith, making a gesture towards his notebook, but make no effort to look any closer. "You wanna talk about that? Whatever it is?"

"Maybe later."

You nodded and dropped the subject. Practice went smoothly, save for a few minor arguments about key changes, and ended just about a half-hour earlier than planned.

You left with Lance and Pidge, promising Keith you'd come back with coffee. You noticed, he realized, that he just needed a few moments alone.

Keith flipped through the pages in his notebook, past doodles and notes about schoolwork he's forgotten, until he finally landed on the song he'd just been writing.

The music came easy like the lyrics had, so effortlessly and evidently himself. He wondered how if this is what songwriting felt like to you, like magic flowing through your veins.

He muttered the song to himself, under his breath and barely louder than his guitar playing, until you knocked on the door and stepped in, and he stopped playing to focus on you.

You set his drink down (his usual order of coffee with just enough sugar to keep the bitterness from hurting but not enough to call it sweet) as he unplugged his guitar.

"Thanks."

"Of course." You smiled as you sat down beside him, leaning into his side as you sipped your own drink (chai, drenched in sugar, smothered in cream, dusted with cinnamon). "You okay?"

He nods, pressing a kiss into the crown of your hairline. He always loved how you managed to smell like comfort bottled in a jar, like the best combination of summer sunsets and rainy days.

"Are you sure? I heard that song you were playing."

He freezes. "That was nothing. Just something I was working on. Doesn't mean anything."

"Keith. Any song you write is going to mean something. That's how it works. We write to share a part of our soul."

You thread your fingers together and gently squeeze his hand. "I promise to never leave you. You are the best person I've ever had in my life and I'm going to be yours for forever. Okay?"

Keith cracks a smile. "How can you say stuff like that so easily?"

"Because anything involving you is easy for me."

He leans forward to drape his arms over you in a hug. "Thank you."

"Always."

"I love you," he murmurs.

You grin, bright and cheery. "I love you too."

Keith doesn't necessarily understand you. He doesn't understand how you're so understanding or why you chose him, or how you were practically perfect, but he doesn't need to. Keith knows you'll choose him, over and over again, and he'll choose you from now until infinity.

All he needed to do was come to his senses and realize that you'd already come to yours and still picked him.

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