you always get back up. you have to.

   It isn’t like either of them can get eight straight on a good day anyway, so Keith has no objections. He grunts in acknowledgement, not looking up from where he’s tightening the laces on his boots, and wraps the string around the ankle a couple extra times.

   Good enough for him.

   Task finished, he glances up to Shiro, a half-smile surfacing. If he’s going to be stranded on a hostile planet and taking turns taking catnaps with anyone, he wants it to be Shiro.

There where a few moments where he felt the violent urge to back pedal and apologize, snap to senses he no longer felt were even the right ones to fall back on. But it all stalled in him, sinking in like sharp claws and teeth into delicate meat and getting hooked inside. So when Keith shoved, he let it push him backwards, like he wasn’t just about twice his muscle mass. There’s millions of things rolling through him all at once, and he recognizes it for what it really is. That was a misstep, the whole ordeal was one giant mistake and he had no right to take any of this out on Keith. He didn’t like the way the resentment climbed up his spine like icy spiders, for himself, for what he was doing. This wasn’t right, and the panic made everything hazy and blurred at the edges. Upside down. Inverted. Shiro sat back on his calves, staring down at the floor, anywhere but directly at Keith and tears felt like acid when they snuck out before he reeled it back in. Snapped a few pieces of himself back together enough to at least try to be composed. His flesh hand scrubbed at his face, anguish dragged away and flung like it mattered. “Because…” he had to stop, swallow around the choking swelling of his throat and try again so his voice didn’t sound so forced and edged with the emotions he was forcing back down. “Because saying no was a mistake Keith.” Part of him wasn’t sure if he would have come to that conclusion if the other wasn’t leaving, at least not this soon. But he couldn’t let him leave the planetside without at least knowing in some way how he was kept up far too late questioning his life choices. How it had hurt to turn him down, but more so for his own sake than Keith’s. He thought it had been right, to not face any of those feelings and step away. But doing that made him feel like a whole lot more than just his arm was missing, and that didn’t count the dying and coming back part either. That had hurt less. Hell, he wasn’t sure if he even felt that at this point. But this. This tore at him, left him raw. And he didn’t want Keith to leave, with a fierceness that could rival the depths of the universe as a whole. And then reality kind of sunk back in and he reared back like he was struck or burned, standing up quickly, a little off balance but retreating to put more space between them. He still couldn’t look. “I-I’m sorry Keith. I shouldn’t have…”

   The last few weeks have been miserable. Keith knows miserable like the back of his hand - he’s lived with miserable for half his life, with little pockets of relief shot through it like pinhole-sized stars in the night sky. It says something about him that his misery had shrunk, had changed and taken new shape, in the middle of a war; says something about the kind of person he was becoming, the sort of man he would have grown into without people like Shiro, like Lance, like Hunk and Pidge and Allura. They’d been most of the reason why he’d been able to crawl out of the pit of his own anger and resentment and make something of himself, Shiro most of all, and he’d come so far that he’d almost forgotten what it felt like to backslide.

   Then the war had ended and they’d all started to splinter. Everyone had a family and a home to go back to - everyone but Keith and Shiro - and he has his mom, but she’s constantly on the move, too. He loves her for her vision and her dedication to the life she’s chosen, but she’s unmoored, just like Keith has learned to be. Nothing had gone the way he’d ever imagined it would, but at the end of it all (and the beginning of the rest of it) he’d thought - it would be him and Shiro, together alone.

   So he’d said something. He’d decided to be honest and lay it all on the line, cards up, no more secrets. And that had been a mistake, widening that wedge even further between Keith and Shiro, and he’d felt untethered - and miserable - in a way he hadn’t since pilot error and we need a leader; Shiro’s gone - he wants it to be you.

   Keith’s a whole person. He is. But he’s a better person when Shiro’s there, in any capacity, and the only time he’s felt closest to the person he wants to be is when he has his best friend within arm’s reach. Maybe that’s weak of him, maybe he’s too dependent on Shiro, but at this point, he doesn’t know how to unravel the two of them.

   He doesn’t know who Keith is supposed to be without Shiro. And he knows that’s a problem, so he was trying to leave, but...

   But here Shiro is, throwing off mixed signals and falling apart at the faultlines Keith created with his stupid confession. He can’t leave like this.

   He can’t leave Shiro like this. He caused this, and he has to fix it.

   “Shiro,” he says, voice cracking around his name, hand outstretched. When Shiro steps back, there’s a voice in the back of his mind that tells Keith to tuck tail and run, too, that a clean break is the only way for either of them to ever recover from this, but he can’t. He can’t see Shiro in pain and not do anything about it. “You don’t have to be sorry. Hey, look at me.”

   His own heart swells to the point of crowding out his lungs, each beat painful and swollen, but he gets both is hands on Shiro’s shoulders and ducks his head down, trying to catch his eye. He’s never been good at moderating his tone for emotion, so it’s rich with feeling when he speaks, desperation and hurt and apology wrapped tight around the rasp in his voice.

   “You can’t help it. You can’t help what you feel and you don’t. You don’t have to force it, it’s not your fault.” He can see tears gathering at the corners of Shiro’s eyes, and he’s never hated himself quite as much as he does in this moment.

   He wants to thumb them away, but he’s afraid that Shiro will flinch if he does, so he keeps his hands where they are.

   Saying no was a mistake, he said. Keith wants to believe that, he wants it so badly, but he knows Shiro, too. He’d do anything for someone he loved, even if he didn’t love them the way they wanted him to. The kindest thing Shiro could have done was let him down easy, and so of course that’s what he’d done. Keith doesn’t want him to force his feelings out of some misplaced sense of guilt or duty or fear.

There was almost an audible pop in his mind as the angry hurt fizzled into nothing in a blink. 

Hands wavered for a moment, torn between grabbing ahold of Keith’s or his face. He had no problem holding himself up, even if he felt like collapsing, muscles pulled too tight. Eventually, after he let Keith get in a few soft hits to his chest, his flesh hand came to grab one of the fists and hold it still. It just so happened to be kept against his body like a treasure. But even he can feel his own heartbeat thumping hard through their hands.

“What do you think leaving is going to do? Keith I–” he remembered the pain from his confession, not wanting to turn him away but feeling obligated to. It was so sudden he didn’t get a chance to really think about it, really let it dawn on him what Keith was actually saying (not that it was unclear). Being left to think about it in the silence of any time he was alone…

There was a tiny bit of learned pride keeping him from admitting saying no was a mistake. Especially when he fully came around to what he thought was a long time buried. A very long time buried. Dying seemed to have changed a lot…

“I can’t… watch you leave. Again.”

He dropped his hand, in favor of lowering his head, forehead pressed to Keith’s chest, and whether the dampness that followed was just sweat or he was crying was up for debate. It only lasted a moment regardless before he pulled back, like the earlier fire came back with a vengeance, and surged up and just kissed him. Just like that. It wasn’t some gentle thing, not that sweet first kiss you imagine after some emotional confession. It was more a demand, a claim, something needy that works as a conduit for all the swirling mash of thoughts. 

He couldn’t think. Not of the right words to get him to change his mind, nor of the ones that could make it any better that he was taking it out on him. But he had to do something to get some of the bubbling feelings out, and kissing him hard enough to likely bruise seemed, instinctually, like the best idea.

   If he’s honest with himself, he doesn’t know if leaving will do any more good than staying would when it comes to him and Shiro - there’s an awkwardness between them that only time is going to be able to soothe, and he’s had a few weeks to make his peace with that. It’s not all about Shiro, either, even if a lot of it is. He does want to make a difference and find a place for himself, and it doesn’t feel like he’s going to be able to do that on Earth, no matter how much he’d like to.

   He’s never felt like he really, truly belonged. He found himself out in space, beside his friends sometimes and on his own, others, and that - fit. Now that he’s feeling unmoored again, it only makes sense to reach outward and try to find his place where he knows there are more spaces for him to fill, doesn’t it?

     Keith had been so sure of it when he made his choice, and in a moment, all of his certainty unspools and scatters.

     There’s nothing gentle about Shiro’s mouth on his, nothing kind or even particularly caring about it - the residual anger and restrained violence of a fight that hadn’t quite had the chance to start is pressure in his throat and behind his teeth, tension coiled tight in his gut. He wants to throw Shiro off him, because this is wrong and not what either of them want, but he wants to drag him closer, too, and suffocate himself in this moment, because knowing that it isn’t right means that it’s a mistake, and he can’t see Shiro making this particular mistake twice.

   His heart cracks open in his chest, a terrible wound that he’d been doing his best to cauterize since he foolishly inflicted it on himself to begin with, but there’s no helping it. 

   This hurts, worse than being let down easy had, by a long shot. 

   He lets the kiss go on too long, and worse than that, he responds; he opens to it and kisses back, equally fierce, equally bruising. It’s nothing like what he wanted it to feel like when he kissed Shiro, when he’d actually allowed himself to think about kissing Shiro, but maybe that was for the best.

   It wasn’t supposed to happen, anyway.

   He breaks away with a low, anguished noise, breathing hard beneath him, and all of his confusion and hurt coalesce into a critical point and burst out of him in a surge of betrayed anger. 

     “What are you doing? Shiro, what are you doing?” He shoves at him and tries to scramble away at the same time, heart pounding so hard that he can feel it knocking against every rib. Blood is rushing past his ears, and he feels cold. “You can’t just - you know how I feel about you! That’s not fair!”

Shiro was probably far more amused by that than he should have been. Something about picturing Keith having to be cornered by some of the surprisingly brave cadets and the like in hopes of whisking him away… it was actually a very funny mental image. 

His amusement went soft around the edges with fondness, changing his smile away from the almost laugh that was going to escape if he didn’t nip it soon.

“Keith, maybe you should look in a mirror more often. You’d get it then.” Maybe. One could hope he would see himself how some of the star eyed students did. Or others, a little closer to home. Just in case that little poke didn’t sit well, he followed it up with a light: “They look up to you, of course they want your attention.”

   Keith actually laughs, a little bit incredulously, as he shakes his head. “Coming from you, Shiro, that’s rich. You’re the heartthrob, not me.”

   He says it easily and unselfconsciously because it’s true. Even if it wasn’t Keith’s own opinion - and he doesn’t see any reason why he should pretend it isn’t, because while Shiro has never looked at him that way, Keith realized some things a while ago - more than half of the Garrison alone would agree with him. Shiro is just classically handsome, which wouldn’t matter much to Keith if that’s all he was, but he’s a good person, too. 

   He’s the kind of guy people look up to, whose attention they want. 

The tone and words caught him more than the push and hook. Made him pause for that heart beat long enough for Keith to throw him off balance, not that it was super hard while he was still technically adjusting to missing an entire limb all over again. Not having the new one physically attached was still difficult sometimes, but at least it responded just like it was coming right from his body with the knee jerk urge to grab him by the shirt as he fell back. Going down but taking Keith with him.

The shock of it didn’t last, flipping something in the back of his mind to make him half pull half toss him as they went, using momentum to flip the situation that would have landed him on his back, and trying to put Keith on his. He didn’t entirely think it would work, not with… well everything about him. If he was being honest, Keith did have an advantage that had nothing to do with all of his limbs being attached either. Being part Galra made a lot of difference, and it was almost tangible as he grew into it.

It made him equal parts nervous and proud of him. It didn’t mix well with the sting of him leaving.

And it certainly had everything to do with the hissed, choked out “Why are you being so selfish?” it even hurt coming out but he couldn’t stop it, letting it burn his throat and feel heavy on his tongue.

   It did work, thought not because of momentum or physical force - Keith landed hard on his back, all of the wind knocked out of him by the vitriol of his best friend’s words, and the vacuum left behind had nothing to fill itself with but hurt and anger.

   They’d always been two sides of the same coin for Keith, bitterly twisted up in each other (anger a shield turned sword, so much easier to fall into and process than pain) and he’d thought he’d grown past this, but he was wrong. How many times has he thought that, though? And all it takes is a few sharply aimed words from Shiro to have his new resolve, his new maturity cracking.

   Maybe it’s because he loves him so much.

   Maybe it’s just because it’s Shiro.

   Half-blinded by fury, he rocks upward, hands fisted in whatever fabric he can get ahold of, and his next question is torn from deep in his chest. “I’m being selfish? I’m doing my best, Shiro!”

At first it was normal, familiar in a way he realized he was craving. Everything was so turned upside down it was hard to tell that pieces were missing.

It almost made him put his guard down and just let it go; almost letting Keith get a leg up on him so early on. But that wouldn’t end well, and he didn’t need more questions than he already had. Watching how easily he fell right into a ‘battle’ ready mode made him all the more curious about their time apart. There was so much missing space, such a huge gap…

That line of thought was messing with his reflexes, so he took a step back, literally and figuratively. It didn’t last, only a heartbeat of a moment, before they went back to the same pace, Shiro managing to mentally steel himself a bit from the myriad of things going on. This wasn’t something to get hung up on, really, but for some reason here he was. Not enjoying the thought of his closest fr– … were they even friends anymore? Of course. 

He wouldn’t let anything like their awkward conversation mess that up.

Even if it kept him up at night, still.

“And you think it’s out there…?” Which… honestly was that really any surprise? He could relate to that, wanting to leave and go out there. They really weren’t that different in the end. That didn’t make him feel any better, Keith did have a good idea, good drive. It sounded good, and if anyone could pull it off it would be Keith. Shiro knew that. He could support that. But…

It was different now wasn’t it? Even if neither of them would actually say anything about it, now or ever, it was like the elephant in the room. Obvious in the touch too much force behind a few punches that weren’t supposed to be like that. This wasn’t a real fight yet it felt like one on some level. Probably because he was fighting more with himself than he was with Keith. And that realization made him falter a bit, giving the perfect opening for a switch in the power struggle.

   There’s a conversation being whispered beneath what’s spoken, communicated through blows that land a little too hard, but Keith can’t pay attention to it. On a good day, sparring with someone he wouldn’t want to let his mind wander - that’s the fastest way to get put on your ass and end up limping home with your dignity around your feet, but sparring with Shiro? If you give that man an inch, he’ll take a mile. It’s one of Keith’s favorite things about him: he’s never held back, never treated Keith like something inferior, even when he felt like he was. That’s why, when there’s an opening, Keith knows to slide in quick, because it won’t be there or long.

   He’s surprised to find one this early; surprised nad a little uncertain, for a moment, because it’s not like Shiro to let him have the upper hand so soon without a strategy behind it. He takes the bait nonetheless, because if he stands there and thinks about it longer than a split-second he’ll be doing Shiro’s work for him anyway, but he files it away in the back of his mind.