#flashedarrow

And when the time came, Keith was blind to his betrayal, blinded by the guileless happiness of resolution and requital he had never expected to have. 

I died, Keith.

It was never Shiro telling him what he wanted to hear. Of course not. No, while Keith was drunk off the flashes of future blissful domesticity between them that he’d sworn he’d seen in the Abyss, holding the clone close and telling him he would save him over and over again, he’d failed to save the real Shiro. The real Shiro was trapped within the Black Lion’s fathomless consciousness, alone, dead.

How could Shiro ever forgive him for that? Keith can’t.

So they orbit each other in the cockpit of the Black Lion like two neutron stars, dragging ever closer yet never quite meeting in the middle, because when they do, that will be the end of it.

When Shiro’s hand falls upon his shoulder after a training exercise, after Krolia has gone back to her quarters and left them in crushing silence, Keith jumps as if electrocuted.

Shiro’s hand moves away. “Sorry,” he murmurs. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Keith doesn’t look at him; he knows what he’ll see. Shiro stares at him like he’s a cornered animal, something pitiful and helpless. Maybe he is. 

“It’s fine,” Keith says. His fingers itch to switch the Lion to autopilot, but something stops him. He sees Shiro’s reflection, only for a moment, in the glassy surface of the screens, and his eyes are sad. He’s tired, and worried, and the circles under his eyes are dark and worn. Keith’s heart clenches, and he slowly turns, and looks up at him. “Shiro?”

Shiro blinks, and sighs. “Keith,” he says, and his voice sounds like it did on the planet where Keith ran to him, jumped across a ravine to him, piloted the Black Lion for him. It is a single, guttural sound, dragging upwards, aching of something Keith is terrified to give a name. 

“Have you been sleeping?” Keith asks, and immediately cringes at himself. He’s not Shiro’s mother, god. 

But Shiro shakes his head, and Keith has the very motherly urge to wrap him up in his arms and never let go when he says, “Sleep doesn’t come easy, and when it does...bad dreams.”

“Oh,” Keith says. “I...I’m sorry.” He licks his lips. “Do...do you want to talk about them, or...”

“Some of them are memories,” Shiro says, and Keith freezes. “And yes, I do want to talk about them. With you.”

“Are you sure,” Keith whispers, heart thudding and palms sweating. “We don’t have to talk about them, Shiro. We can just...”

His words trail off, hollow, hanging in the air between them like a waiting guillotine.

“Just what?” Shiro asks, a pleading note slipping into his voice. “Forget it?”

“Yes,” Keith says, weakly. “If that would be easier.”

“Easier,” Shiro repeats. “Keith, how would it be easier to forget that you love me when I love you just as much?”

Keith forgets how to breathe.

At his silence, Shiro looks away. “Okay,” he says, “so maybe not as much, anymore. That’s okay. If...if you can’t...after what I did...I understand.”

“I love you,” Keith whispers, and Shiro turns back, eyes wide. “But Shiro, that memory, that wasn’t...you don’t love me, the clone does. Did.”

Shiro’s eyebrows lift. “Are you seriously telling me that I don’t love you after I just said I did?”

“It wasn’t you,” Keith whispers, hunching his shoulders. “If you’re remembering, then I don’t want...I don’t want you to feel like you have to feel what he felt, or say what he said...”

Shiro opens his mouth, then closes it. He takes a step closer. “Oh, Keith,” he says. “I’ve loved you since the day I left for Kerberos.”

Keith stands. They’re almost eye to eye, now. “Don’t say that if you don’t mean it,” he warns, begs, both. 

“I mean it,” Shiro says, and cups Keith’s face in his warm, trembling palm. “I loved you then and I loved you every day since then. Every moment on the astral plane, I loved you. And I think that was what kept me going, Keith. It was you. I could have faded away, I could have let go, but I didn’t, because I loved you so much it hurt. So much it terrified me.” His thumb strokes across the healed scar on Keith’s cheek. “Terrifies me, still.”

Keith reaches out, grasping clumsily, finding purchase in the gaps of Shiro’s armor and tugging him closer, as close as he can get him. “I let go,” he breathes, “because I love you so much it hurts.”