As his eyes slowly blink open, the sound of beeping infiltrates Shiro’s ears, and he groans. Bright sunlight filters in through the window and into the blurry room. With trembling forearm, he tries to sit up, grabbing his glasses off the side table and focusing his vision.
“You’re awake.” His gaze catches on Curtis, who holds a closed book in his lap. Curtis looks tired, but relieved, a gentle smile creasing the lines around his eyes.
“Just five hours.” Just. Even if Curtis looks at him with understanding, embarrassment flushes Shiro’s face. Five hours he’d kept Curtis waiting at his bedside.
Now that he’s properly awake, he can see how uncomfortable and sterile the hospital room is. Thin, ratty curtains hang framing the window. The floors and ceiling are both white. Curtis, sitting beside him, is in a stiff, plastic chair.
“I’m sorry.” Shiro’s left hand pushes at his face, rubbing his eyes and twisting to adjust his hair.
“Don’t be,” Curtis rolls his eyes, smile flattening slightly. “I know you can’t help it. You keep me safe. It’s sweet.”
A sharp pain in Shiro’s side only causes the guilt to fester. He pulls back the thin white sheet he’s under, feels under his hospital gown for the thick bandages wrapped around his chest and his stomach.
“Not gonna call me stupid?”
“You already know you’re stupid,” Curtis plainly states, narrowing his eyes. “If Keith and Lance hadn’t been there, you’d probably have seven more cuts. Idiot.” It sounds pained and fond all at once coming from his mouth.
Memories flash through Shiro’s mind. Shopping for the reunion barbecue with Curtis, Keith, and Lance. Getting separated in the store, then cornered by a thin, wild-eyed man with shaking hands. Trying to calm down the panicked man on his own, slowly approaching him with rational words of reality and war being over.
He hadn’t accounted for a knife.
Keith turning a corner before it all went dark.
Shiro blinks it all away.
“You’re alive. That’s all I need, for now.” Curtis reaches to place a firm hand on Shiro’s chest, eyes searching.
Gratefulness blooms where his hand is placed, spreading warmly through Shiro’s limbs. He can’t help but smile, eyes tearing up. Shiro sucks in a shaky, rattling breath.
“I’m really bad at retirement,” he admits, throat tight.
“The worst,” Curtis agrees.
“I love you,” Shiro whispers, ignoring the tight jabs of injury to place his hand over Curtis’.