#summerweek2

Anger, that’s what he felt. And shame. Just the thought of Shiro leaving had his blood broiling; a safe and manageable alternative to fear or, god forbid, sadness. Shiro could feel the tension between them, said he understood how Keith was feeling and that it was okay to feel sad. Maybe, but not this sad.

Shame rushed in where anger didn’t quite satisfy him; how could he be angry at Shiro for following his dream? This mission had been Shiro’s purpose, it was the fuel to his already roaring fire. Maybe part of him wished that Shiro would have turned down the mission to stay on Earth with him. And there was the shame again.

It was Shiro’s idea to take a drive out to the mountains, to stargaze and try to make one last meaningful connection before his days flooded with preparations and his flight to the launch in Texas marked the first physical space between them.  

For now they sat just inches apart, not touching, as the sun set under the horizon. “Someone’s going to have to watch over Gambit while I’m gone.” Gambit. His damn bamboo plant.

“I got it.”

Shiro turned to him, open and visibly hurt. Well… did he want Keith to watch the frickin plant or not? For a moment he looked like he was going to say more, but the sky caught his attention once again. A moment had come and it had gone. Keith was too much a coward to look it in the eye.

As quickly as it came it was gone. Shiro didn’t even taken it. Figures Keith would snuff them out, shove Shiro out the door before he could leave. It was just wild chance that the man was leaving the entire planet. Almost the solar system.

Before long he’d resurfaced from his gloom to look up at the dazzling night sky. It was brilliant, shimmering and brimming with unknown potential. Every time Shiro brought him out here he understood the need, the urge Shiro had to see more. Shiro and Keith were hungry in the same way; ravenous and insatiable. Unrealistic but unwavering. He just wished that they saved some of that hunger for each other. Because right now Keith was starting to feel nauseous.

The words left his mouth before he could think to hate them: “I wish I could be more for you. More happy, more supportive.” Hot and wild, a blush burned through the thin jacket he’d worn. “Though I couldn’t be more proud.”

Instead of paying him any mind, Shiro’s looking around, perusing each star in the sky like he’s picking avocados at the grocery. “Pick a constellation, Keith.”

“The little dipper?” Keith tries.

“Ursa minor,” Shiro corrects reflexively. Nerd. “Pick a good one.”

“Ophiuchus.”

“That’s a good one, Ophiuchus” Shiro murmurs to himself, pleased as he searched and then plucked the cluster out of the night sky. Easy like breathing. Finally he straightens and turns to Keith as his fingers grasp Keith’s hand. “Every night at 10pm I’ll meet you there.”

“What?”

“I’ll have my watch on me, so every night I’ll see you there. I’d write but you wouldn’t believe how many stamps I’d need to send that sucker over.” He takes a moment to laugh at his own joke and rubs at the cooling tip of his nose. “We don’t have to, but messages will be few and far between and it’s the only—“

“10pm. Every night. I’ll know if you don’t show up.”

The moment was taken, and the space between them shrank a little. It wasn’t the answer to everything, but maybe it was a hint. Shiro taking a key on his way out knowing that Keith would leave the light on.