#patientfocusly

Just like he knew he should've left when they finally found a way to send him home. The moment he'd gotten the news his head told him to go, to leave this reality behind, and to go home. But how could he leave his heart behind? He'd always been so damn selfless in life and for once he wanted to be selfish. He wanted to stay and maybe try to fight for Shiro again. Another part of him knew it was pointless. If they were meant to be together they would've found a way and returning to his reality would at least allow them both to heal and move on. Instead, he was selfish, he stayed, he hoped that maybe something might change, that maybe they could work through their issues. Steve knew it was naïve of him to think that way but he couldn't help but think that if he still held onto hope that a part of Shiro did, too. Except the longer he spent in this reality the more it hit him that things were well and truly done. The garrison enjoyed having him around and in all honesty he enjoyed being there. But seeing Shiro?

It hurt. A LOT. Even though they made a point of avoiding each other it still hurt those times when they did. At least no one asked what had happened. Neither of them really wanted to explain that and he was grateful everyone allowed them their privacy. So why was he there? Why was he watching him work when neither of them really wanted to be in each other's presence? Because that voice in his head told him. Because no matter how many times they tried to stay apart something always dragged them back together. And Steve couldn't help himself. His feet knew the way by heart, knew just how easily it would be to walk to Shiro's office. Most of the time he could force himself to walk the opposite way, force himself to avoid the hallways that would lead to his office. Not today. Something about today had changed and leaning against the door frame, he remembered just how many times in the past he'd done this. Offering the other a small smile, inviting him to the gardens in the garrison, just time away so they could spend it together without the prying eyes.

This time, though, he wasn't expecting Shiro to agree. It had been stupid of him to suggest it for old time's sake. Both of them knew it would open up all the wounds that had finally healed. But looking at Shiro's desk, his appearance he knew the other seemed to be struggling. That or he really had thrown himself back into work to avoid the pain that came with thinking about what they had. Either way, he knew that he shouldn't have expected Shiro to say yes so when he did Steve was bit taken aback.

"It has been a while," is all he can say in return, shoving his hands into his pockets and offering a smile. Nothing was going to come from this. Nothing could come from this. The last time they'd ended up together they hadn't been able to nurture it the way a relationship needed to be nurtured. He knew the world wasn't in as much chaos as it had been but that didn't mean the lives they'd had would be conducive to a relationship. But maybe his could be the start of them being friends. That was better than nothing at all and Steve hoped that maybe that's what could happen for them. If he couldn't love Shiro like he had in the past, at least he could be his friend. "They keep saying some of the rare flowers are coming into bloom but I haven't had the time to see them." And it just felt weird to go into the greenhouses alone.

But that's how things needed to be right? This was nothing more than a one time thing, a way for them to at least put what they had behind them and then maybe move forward in their new lives. If it failed, there was always the chance he could get them to send him home. But he wanted to give this one last shot before he knew that it was pointless, before he knew that it really was time to go home.

"Another late night?"

“That could be filed under ‘fuck’ depending on what way you’re looking at it. Now that you mention it, you did look lonely.” Dante was just in his usual haunt unwinding with a beer after work, and it was impossible not to notice another white-haired man, they tended to stick out.

Formatting. Just generally speaking.

I like to use xkit to cut my posts and desktop to copy-paste replies into new text posts, and from mobile I can’t do any of that, can only screenshot replies and have to pray that my partner can cut the post for me. I also tried to format my text (just barely, just bolding punctuation) for the first month and a half I was on this blog and then just gave up because, again, hard to do when you’re shitposting dash commentary from mobile.

It’s a pet peeve of mine when people don’t trim their posts, but as shown above, I’m guilty of it.

I’m slightly visually impaired and the community’s thing for small text is mostly okay on dash, but I gave up a long time ago on directly reading from blog themes (even my own) because the text is so small. It also makes it hard to read if there’s much formatting besides just the small html tag.

@patientfocusly​ asked: “I wasn’t aware there was a plan ‘b’.” 

Nearly a dozen visits in 3 months and the nurses were already dubbing Keith their frequent flyer.  Always in and out of the clinic, body littered with day-old bruises, scrapes and cuts.  One time a gash that might have come from a knife, though Keith was never all that forthcoming about how he managed to get beat to hell half the time.  But the clinic didn't press, didn't call the authorities.  It was just some small place tucked between an office building and a corner mart, and didn't seem to question the young man's utter lack of insurance.

Which suited him just fine.  Questions were annoying, and the answers dangerous.  Authorities meant word might reach the Galra, and that meant Keith was gone.  

He was grateful for the places that operated just a touch under the radar.  Letting him get fixed up, maybe grab some good painkillers along the way, without having to visit an actual hospital or suffer through the ER waits.  Now it was only the doctor he was waiting for as he sat there on the edge of the padded exam table, one hand placed gingerly over his side where the skin was miscolored with ugly splotches of a darkening purple and blue.  A black t-shirt and red jacket were already tossed over the armchair in the room, the young man staring off into space, looking rather bored as he waited.

That boredom faded as the door opened, blue-gray eyes taking in the man that entered with an almost resigned air.  All those dozen visits, each unplanned and unscheduled, Keith cycling through probably 3 or 4 different nurses.  And yet Doctor Shirogane was the only physician who ever saw him.  

Shiro looks up, surprised to find himself interrupted in the kitchen this early on a Sunday morning.  ❛ James, right ?? ❜ Shiro’s good with names and faces and he’d made a point to remember all of the new brothers in the house. Partly because he’s the president, but mostly because he’s just Shiro. He finishes slapping on peanut butter across his four pieces of toast before licking the knife clean and looking expectantly at James.  ❛ What’s on your mind ?? ❜

      “ ah... yeah, ” he nods, forcing himself to look away from the man’s interesting breakfast choices. Is peanut butter on toast even normal? “ uh, that guy you were hanging out with last night... ” 

     Hanging out is the understatement of a century, seeing as how Shiro’s arm had been draped over the raven-haired boy’s shoulders for practically the entire night. “ how do you know him? ”