Shiro's bracelet tightened around his wrist immediately. He resisted the urge to rub at it when he saw Keith’s eyes dart to his hand briefly. The younger boy knew he was caught and his lips drew a tight grimace. Shiro saw no point in voicing the fact out loud.

Keith’s shoulders hunched up to his ears when Shiro’s chair dragged across the cheap linoleum as he stood. But he didn't push the older boy away when he leaned his forearms on the table next to him. Shiro glanced over the complicated notes spread out on its surface, mountains of equations and strangely artistic diagrams of trajectories. Keith had never been short on motivation, but as the launch of the HAT-1 rocket loomed, his work rate had increased to frightening levels. He was well on his way to chasing his dream of joining the space program at the Garrison Centre, and was determined to join Kolivan on his next mission whenever it would come.

On the notebook in front of Shiro, a calculation had been written, rewritten, crossed out and messily scrubbed at in frustration. The paper had been crumpled and re-smoothed, and under the mess in Keith’s neat cursive, he had written a short phrase before continuing the workings again.

        Patience yields focus.

The little happy face drawn next to the final, correct answer - complete with undercut - was hopelessly endearing.

“When does the meteor shower start?”

Keith glanced at his watch.

“About 35 minutes. But it won't peak for another 90 at least— hey!”

Shiro ignored his protest as he plucked the textbook from his hands, carefully bookmarking the page before setting it down on his other notebooks.

“Let's get a head start then. I don't know about you, but there's only so much I can write about ethics in lawmaking before my eyes want to fall out. Besides, gotta make sure we get the best spot.”

Keith rolled his eyes sourly. “No one ever comes to our spot.”

“And wouldn't it be such a shame if tonight was the first night they did,” Shiro replied with a grin.

He leaned down into Keith’s line of vision, tilting his head so it almost rested on the table in front of him.

“Come on,” he goaded, flashing what he hoped was a good attempt at puppy dog eyes. He was determined to fish Keith out of whatever mental dip he had found himself in. And nothing cheered him up more than stargazing, pointing out planets and constellations as Shiro listened on beside him. He watched Keith stare him down, ears turning pink before his expression relaxed in resignation.

“Fine,” he huffed. “But if you fall asleep out there, I'm not waking you up this time.”

Shiro looked wounded.

“That was just once! You try staying awake past midnight after three exams on completely unrelated areas of law in one day.”

Keith finally laughed and Shiro felt his chest grow warm.

“Good thing you're going to be the attorney and not me then,” he teased as he stood, swiping up his jacket.

The walk to the little abandoned shack overlooking the Garrison Space Centre was punctuated by Shiro talking about his worries about being accepted for his Juris Doctor next year. Keith listened dutifully, breaking his silence only to offer words of support and encouragement when needed. This was what their friendship had always been, helping each other chase their wildly different dreams and sharing in each other's trials and jubilations along the way. They kept each other focused and on track, and so despite the lack of specialist schools and private tutors, both had made significant headway into reaching their goals while they were still quite young. Shiro could hardly believe he was looking at fast tracking his path to becoming a defence attorney by the time he would turn 23. At 18, the end was still far away, but in sight nonetheless.  

“And I mean, I guess writing about how sociology and the law are intrinsically linked isn't as exciting as working out how to fly a rocket, but I'm actually really enjoying it.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Keith grinned, throwing himself unceremoniously onto the grass. “I find the idea of having my own attorney an incredibly thrilling concept.”

“Just what are you planning that involves having your own attorney?” Shiro eyed him with mock-suspicion, lowering himself a little more carefully to lay on his back. “Besides, who said I was going defend your shady dealings in court?”

Keith smiled, pulling his knee up to his chest.

“You'd never abandon me.”

The words came out surprisingly serious, his voice soft but confident. Shiro blinked at the sudden shift, struggling to form a reply, and Keith’s watch blipped quietly before his brain could catch up.

“It's about to start,” the younger boy said, casting his eyes up.

Shiro tucked his palm under his head, the very first of the lights streaking across the atmosphere above them. Watching the meteor showers was much more for Keith’s benefit than his. But the time spent together was precious to Shiro in a way he couldn't put into words. And it didn't matter if he didn't want to chase his dreams into space like Keith. Away from the light pollution, the night sky was objectively magnificent. He didn't have to be a budding astronaut to appreciate that. And the time away from his books helped refresh his perspective too. A thought came to him as he recalled Keith’s question earlier that evening.

“The stars sure look beautiful tonight,” he mused as nonchalantly as possible. Keith just hummed his agreement unsuspectingly.

“You know what else is beautiful?”

He felt Keith flinch beside him slightly, but focused on staring right ahead and trying not to crack a grin. He missed the dusting of pink that spread across the other boy's cheeks in the dark.

“L. A. Hart’s concept of legal positivism and his philosophy of social influence on authority.”

There was a pause, then suddenly a fist thumped against his shoulder.

“Idiot,” Keith muttered as Shiro laughed, turning his face away.

Shiro sat up to fling his arms around the other boy’s hunched shoulders, scruffing his hair. Keith yelped his protest but didn't shove him off, and when Shiro settled one arm around him, he leaned ever so slightly into the hold.

“You asked me what I think happens after we’re gone?” Shiro asked, turning his face back up to the sky, where their personal light show was ramping up. "Maybe we turn into stars. And maybe some of us can't stay away. Which is why this happens.”

“Corny, even for you,” Keith scoffed. “How can we turn into stars when our bodies are stuck on the earth?”

Shiro laughed, squeezing him to his side. "Good question. I guess don't know the answer... But I don't think it's the end. We’ll see them again, I'm sure.”

Shiro pretended not to hear Keith sniff, his response coming at a delay.

“Promise?”

Shiro rested his head on Keith's with a smile.

“Promise.”

Pidge was the first to look up when Shiro arrived late in the afternoon, round glasses exaggerating the surprise in her eyes.

“Shiro?!”

Allura’s head shot up, and immediately she abandoned the evidence list on her desk. She stood, smoothing the material of her pink pencil skirt. “What do you think you're doing here, Shiro?” she admonished, unable to conceal her concern. “You should be in a hospital bed.”

Shiro pulled the jacket draped over his shoulders a little closer. “No… I couldn't stay there, doing nothing. Not while…” He grit his teeth, looking down.

“You need to rest!” Pidge cut in. “Leave Kolivan’s case to us. We’ll take it from here.”

Shiro's eyes hardened, still staring at the ground. “Thanks… but that's not an option. Not for me.”

Allura looked troubled, pausing as she moved around her desk, placing a hand on the tabletop. “Shiro… your injuries.” Her voice was gentle and even, but it still grated against Shiro's raw nerve endings nonetheless. "You're putting your health in danger by being here.”

“I'm fine. The hospital provided me with everything I needed. I was just wasting a bed there.” He avoided the disbelieving looks from his colleagues. “Now that Shay has been cleared, the court has let Kolivan’s trial recommence, right? Tell me how the case is going. What progress have you made?”

Allura exchanged a glance with Pidge, but his junior partner seemed to decide keeping him informed was best, no matter what Allura was trying to silently communicate.

“We have a witness that claims a suspicious figure was spotted in the lounge just after the explosion at the launch pad. But the description doesn't match Kolivan. It has to be the real killer!”

Despite her enthusiasm, Shiro remained thoughtfully quiet.

“I thought you'd be happy to hear that,” Allura interjected gently after a moment, sitting on the corner of her desk.

“Mm?” Shiro snapped out of his reverie. “I… I am. And I'm going to make sure Keith's murderer is brought to justice.” His voice went cold. “Nothing in this universe will get in the way of that.”

Allura was solemn as she spoke. “Keith meant a lot to you…”

“He meant…” Shiro tried desperately to unfurl his phantom fist, the throb of pain starting to work its way up his arm. “He meant everything.”

“What was he like?” Pidge asked, chewing on her lip.

Shiro’s smile was bittersweet, because how did anyone begin to describe the enigma that was Keith Kogane: orphan, dreamer, astronaut, friend... much more. “He was focused. Passionate. If he set his mind to something, he would achieve it in the end. But never at the expense of anyone else. On the outside he could seem distant to those who didn't know him well enough, but his heart was always open just below the surface. Nothing was worth the pain of a loved one to Keith. He would sooner…” Shiro stopped, swallowing hard.

“And now he's gone.”

Allura’s shoulders tensed and Shiro knew she was fighting between her professionalism as his boss and her desire to comfort him as a friend.

“Shiro, about that jacket…”

“... It's Keith’s. It was given to him after he was selected for the HAT-2 mission. I remember how happy he was when he came home wearing it for the first time. He'd finally achieved his dream… and then…” he started to crack, “then…”

His fist connected to the wall behind him with a crack, making Pidge jump.

“It's not fair!”

Allura took a step forward as he drew a shaky breath, but stopped short when he squared his shoulders a schooled his expression back into something more neutral.

“I'll never forgive the person who took his dream from him.”

“I know,” Allura said softly. “Shiro, the way you feel… it's natural. You've been through a lot. Just… don't forget that as attorneys, our first and foremost task is to save our client, not avenge the victim.

Conflict constricted Shiro’s ribs tightly. “I-I understand that,” he said, trying not to let desperation bleed into his voice. “That's why—"

His voice failed him completely. Allura finally abandoned professionalism to close the distance, reaching up to touch his face. Shiro caught her hand though, gently redirecting it away. Up close, he could see his tired face mirrored in concerned blue eyes.

“Sorry Allura, but I'll be taking a leave of absence.”

Beside them, Pidge looked stricken. “Wait, what do you mean?”

“Shiro, I could understand if you were taking the time to heal,” Allura said softly, “but clearly that's not the case here. I can see the files in your bag and I know you don't want to give up this investigation. Can you at give me a reason why you don't want to work with the Voltron Offices?”

Shiro turned his face away, unable to look Allura in the eye. There was no way he could tell her. That his reason was borne of the seed of doubt in his mind. That the roots of distrust and suspicion had spread and grounded themselves deep into his stomach. He had always trusted his intuition. And it told him now that he needed to do this alone.

“When I put on Keith's jacket, it was my promise to him. I'm going to catch his killer myself.”

“But that's our goal too!” Pidge insisted.

Allura glanced to the junior attorney, trying to offer her split-second reassurance. “Pidge is right. We should find the truth together.”

Shiro knew she was trying to watch out for him. It had always been this way since she had first recruited him, fresh from law school after the bar. She had given him his start and he would always be grateful for that. But right now…

“The truth…” He released her wrist, stepping away. “What if the truths we seek turn out to be different though?”

“What could you possibly mean, Shiro?” Allura sounded exasperated and horrified all at once.

“I'm going to find the monster who took Keith's life, my own way.” His tone was finite, turning away. He paused when he opened the office door, his hand on the handle. “Take good care of Kolivan. It's what Keith would have wanted.”

“Goodbye.”

"That's time, Keith. Pens down.”

Keith let out a long sigh as he sat back in his chair, running his fingers through his hair where it had been getting a little longer at the back. He turned a tired smile up to his companion.

“Thanks for keeping an eye on the clock. I know you have better things to be doing than watch me take another practice exam.”

Shiro waved him off. “I got a pretty big chunk of my torts essay done, so I'm not complaining. That's the last one, right?”

Keith nodded, fishing for a red pen and an answer key. “Then it's the real deal tomorrow,” he said, looking a little green.

Shiro tsked disapprovingly. “You’re fine, Keith. Say it.”

Keith sighed again, but replied obediently. “Keith Kogane is fine.”

Shiro attempted to channel all of his encouragement into a warm smile. “You've done the hard work and it's just one last hurdle. And what's your average score right now? Ninety-five?”

“Ninety-six,” Keith corrected, trying - and failing - not to look smug.

Shiro laughed.   “Why the hell am I being your cheerleader then? You don't need me.”

“Not true,” he rebutted immediately, eyes focused on his paper as he started marking his answers. After all this time, his determination still shone through as strong as ever, undeterred even in the face of the news of HAT-1’s disastrous launch a year ago.

Shiro watched as his brow creased in concentration, and the way he chewed on the end of his pen as he read. His boots tapped out an anxious rhythm on the floor, but Shiro found himself unbothered by the distraction. If anything, it was a little charming, watching his nervous habits on display all at once.

“You don't have to wait,” Keith said suddenly, without looking up.

Shiro felt strangely startled, as if caught out. Just how long had he been sitting there, staring, essay abandoned at his elbow? He cleared his throat.

“I was thinking we could go to the Space Centre after you finish marking. One last time for good luck before your exam. My treat.”  

Keith’s eyes shot up, violet and eager and Shiro felt his heart give an odd thump.

“Yeah?”

Shiro swallowed and nodded, suddenly not trusting himself to speak. The smile that spread across Keith’s lips at the gesture sent him into a spin. Shiro had to stop himself from reaching up to hold his head as he finally looked back down to his essay again. He tried to focus intently, but the words refused to sink in. Paragraphs sat idle on the pages in front of him and letters threatened to blur out of comprehension. Was he sick? Had he not had enough to eat before he agreed to join Keith as his adjudicator this morning?

He risked a glance up to the boy in question again, where he was marking his test with renewed vigor. Between questions, he twirled his pen between his fingers in an absent flourish. His mouth quirked at the corners with every answer he got right and he alternated between chewing his bottom lip raw and soothing it with a quick flick of his tongue. When he paused to blow his fringe out of his eyes, Shiro felt his insides flip over.

Okay, so he wasn't ill. It was far worse.