[ well shit. this went south fairly quickly. actually, not just south. it’s crashing and burning into the side of a fucking mountain right now. coward that he is, shiro only looks up with the shift of the cot and stares after keith’s back. a little ruined, he’d thought not more than ten seconds ago. that’s generous. now there’s a distinct fracture in place, one that shiro has a sudden overwhelming feeling of dread for. this is repairable, isn’t it? this isn’t done, right? they’ll be fine.

surely.

funnily enough, shiro’d been thinking this is how keith should have gone out from the get-go. all black. it hits differently here, because it punctuates the fact that keith wants so badly to get away from this conversation, even shiro himself, that he’s not even thinking of his state of dress anymore. skin tight and barely anything at all, it’s a ridiculous way to take a walk.

so maybe they won’t be fine.

the confession he swallowed back returns to him and he thinks, should’ve been honest, right before his mouth parts, his lungs fill, and he blurts out: ]

I can’t stop thinking about you, okay?

[ how he’d looked. how he’d felt underneath him. shiro can still hear him too. he’d hoped admitting as much would feel liberating, like a catharsis. but it isn’t. it only adds fuel to that agitated, jittery unease, of feeling out of depth and out of control. but see? see? keith isn’t alone in this, so don’t leave shiro here to deal with the damage alone either. ]

Just… [ he can never quite escape the urge to hesitate. he always tries to think things through first and measure out his words, but here, he’s breaking overriding the habit, leaving everything to come out rushed and slightly fumbled. ] I wanted you too. I still do. And I don’t know what to do with that.