[ Keith remembered well the day that the hanahaki disease took hold of him. At first he didn't understand why it was this way, being only a young man of sixteen or so when it happened; he didn't think he loved anyone. But after meeting Adam for the first time and seeing how happy Shiro was with that man, Keith surged with jealousy and sadness. Guilt followed, knowing all too well what an incredible person Shiro is. Of course he already had someone he loved. Of course he had already found happiness with someone.
That very same night, realizing how passionately he felt about Shiro, he wept in pain as the flowers burst from his lungs. Beautiful , white flowers covered in blood as they ruined his throat. When Shiro "died," it didn't stop. He decided he needed to be clinical, precise, healthy if he ever wanted to find Shiro again, but like hell was he going to just let that last emotion die. The day of his operation to have those feelings removed, he punched Iverson with the last piece of passion that surged through his body. For Shiro.
A year and a half has passed since then. He found Shiro. He knew only after badgering Adam relentlessly with hurt and frustration that Adam had left Shiro; and so when it turned out Shiro had developed the disease himself. Whenever it came to mind, something sparkled in him; but he never quite put label on it. It felt so unidentifiable to him. So many little sparkles of somethings burst in him whenever Shiro was there. He would always have the memories of those emotions, so he was told; and so he believed that's all those sparkles could be. ]
[ He thinks he was born faulty, because there's always something. The disease eating at his muscles, thankfully gone despite the grotesque methods of his luck. Getting used to a foreign arm in the place of his own had been hard, his memories spotty, but still managing to flash him back to a variety of horrors at the most inconvenient moments. And then, finally, just when he was starting to breathe again, this. An illness he would have never predicted.
It has to be Adam's fault. Shiro had never wanted to break up - he'd simply wanted Adam to wait. Unfair, perhaps. But he's never been the most rational about his love life and is starting to think any attempts at romance will only end up blowing up in his face. After escaping the nightmare of his captivity, this is the last thing he wants. Another disease, another way for the world to tell him he's not good enough and never will be.
He turns to the one person who's always been there. His constant. His best friend. The one person who's never given up on him. Keith credits him for too much when Shiro knows the truth is he'll never be able to repay him for giving him his life back. He owes Keith everything.
Keith's not in his room at the Garrison, but Shiro knows exactly where to find him. He knocks on the door of Keith's childhood home, and he blames the dry desert air for the way the flowers intensify like thorns in his chest. It hurts, but he's long used to pain, and he still greets his friend with a weary smile that he can't help every time he sees him. ]
[ The memory of an emotion. That's nostalgia. Keith came out here after his surgery because that's all he had any more was memories; although his father's passing left him sad, there were still happier memories in this house than there were at the garrison. He came here again for the same reason. Memories of finding Shiro again. Bringing him home. The first exhilarating launch into space together. Coming here isn't a feeling.... it's an instinct.
He smiles back, even though the smile means nothing to him any more, but there's that little sparkle in his bosom that flares up. ] Come in, [ he offers softly, tilting his head into the house, more run down than ever. ]
I was just looking at my old board, [ he explains, approaching the machinations of a teenager driven by obsession alone to find anything that might lead him to Shiro. His arms fold over his chest. ] Not much has changed.
[ His eyes linger on the board, a little touched, and a little uncomfortable at the amount of thought and effort that went into finding him. He worries about Keith even now. He seems... fine, really, but he hadn't started as the most well-adjusted kid, more angry and lonely and driven by the intense emotions he could never seem to get a handle on. Shiro had made it his personal mission to show him that there could be more to life than past traumas and pain. In turn, he'd gained something far more precious than he could ever put into words. ]
You can take that down now, you know. [ He smiles gently, pulling out a chair and seating himself heavily at the table. He's been here many times, always able to track Keith down whenever things get to be too much and he decides to retreat. They've built new memories in this place, card games and late-night talks between drinks and pizza. Shiro would sometimes find his way here when he was on the outs with Adam, and Keith would always find a way to make him laugh again. ] I'm not going anywhere.
[ His lungs burn, and he coughs suddenly, the taste of blood on his tongue, but he swallows it back down with a wince. The last thing he wants to do is worry Keith. ]
We should fix this place up. [ As if he's in any condition for that, but he still wants to. ] A little project during our down time? Not that there's a lot of that, but... it would be nice to do something normal.
[ Keith listens, weighing what Shiro says against what he knows. He'd... probably like to see this place standing tall again. Proud and unabashed. At least that much his memories tell him. His eyes turn toward a couch with the corners torn to pieces and buttons popped out, then toward Shiro. He stares at his old friend for a moment, his eyes clearly thinking.
"We" is the problem; Shiro's too sick to do something like this. It's... illogical to push yourself that hard, but Shiro always did. It would be as unreasonable to protest for the sake of Shiro's health. As if to answer Shiro, he starts to tear the pictures down, careless of how they tear as he piles each ripped sheet in his arm. About midway through, however, his eyes settling on the picture of a cliffside; the picture that lead them to find the Blue Lion. That started their whole journey. This... images has meaning beyond the rest. It wasn't part of an obsession. It was beginning of a story. He starts to tear it down, but before even a little rip can be made, he stops, pauses, and draws his hand away, turning his back to the board to drop the sheets in a trashcan that probably should be thrown out with the papers.
Shiro's too sick, his mind repeats as it remembers the cough. It would be worse if he didn't speak out against the idea. He starts, a nearly callous tone as he speaks: ] Working on this house will just make your sickness worse. It's not worth that.
[ He knows Keith doesn't mean to hurt him. Never has, and he doesn't believe he ever will. But those words cut deeper than he likely realizes, because he's heard them so many times before. Everything he's ever earned, he's had to fight for. No one believed he could get into the Garrison. No one but Sam wanted him on the Kerberos mission. Always too sick, never good enough. Even Adam couldn't understand.
He swallows with a wince, the needle pricks of thorns in his throat. ] Don't start doing that too, Keith. Not you. [ Glancing up with a tired smile on his lips, he continues. ] I need one person who still believes I can hammer a nail or use a paintbrush without dropping dead. I've done okay all this time, haven't I?
I'm not worried about you, [ he answers, bluntly, his calloused heart smothering a glimmer in his chest. ]
Look at this place, Shiro. My table is a scrap of sheet metal. The walls are caving in. I can't even live in half this house it's in such disrepair. Everything in here is trash. It'd be better off made into scrap for the restoration efforts so it actually can mean something to anyone. Even if it all just burns to keep people warm.
I don't know why you'd want to waste your spare time on this place. You have better ways to spend your time than in this pit and all you'd do is make yourself sicker. You'd just be killing yourself working on it. You should be out there, at the garrison, in the city, wherever it is people are and go fall in love with someone worth your time. Get over Adam. Forget he ever mattered because he's not worth the pain you're going through; not even a single petal. You deserve better than him.
There's so many people out there who already love you, so many people who just meeting you would fall in love with you! This illness... it doesn't suit you, Shiro. There's no reason for you to be suffering from it.
[ The smile drops away as Keith goes on, a sense of dread rising in his chest. The flowers are suddenly forgotten, the pain set on the back-burner of his mind as he stares at Keith with a slow realization creeping over him. He's heard little things, that Keith had gotten sick this very same way and had his emotions removed in lieu of trying to find a real cure, but he'd never asked. Keith had seemed perfectly healthy when he found him, and they'd immediately fallen into their chaotic lives that he'd never had time to really... see.
But he sees it now. It's so glaringly obvious that he can't believe he didn't catch it sooner. The chair scrapes against the floor as Shiro abruptly stands, his brows knitting. ]
Keith. What did you - [ He swallows, his flesh and blood hand clenching by his side. He doesn't address any of what Keith's actually said. ] You had your emotions removed?
I had to, [ he answers, his voice tense, but after a moment his gaze drops, reflecting on those last few months. ]
They said the damage would be permanent if I didn't do something soon. I couldn't focus on the things that mattered. [ he looks at his hand, remembering the last furious emotion he felt as he laid this fist against Iverson's eye. The many times he saw flowers pool in this hand. ] I was never going to have those feelings returned, so I said fine. I got my mind back. I focused on what mattered most. I found you.
[ It's even worse than he imagined, because there's the swift realization that he's to blame. Keith might not have done such a thing if he hadn't felt the need to go find him. The weight of the sudden guilt nearly crushes him, and he sits down again, heavily, with a weak cough. ]
Keith. [ It feels like needles in his throat when he swallows. ] You didn't... you didn't have to. I never would've asked that of you. I don't want this for you.
[ Even with knowing how Keith's emotions used to run so strongly that they controlled nearly everything he did, that he raged with anger and sorrow and loneliness and so much love that he could barely distinguish it from pain, even with that... he never wanted Keith to erase them. He always wanted Keith to simply learn to control them, to accept his sensitivity and coexist with the beautiful storm inside of himself. For all of that to be gone... Shiro feels like he's lost a tangible thing. ]
Everyone has crushes, Keith. Everyone ends up liking someone who may not like them back. But with time, you learn you accept it. You get better. And eventually, you find someone else and things will be good again. Cutting out your emotions isn't the answer.
[ He's not sure what sloshes through his chest as Shiro speaks, but it's there. Like the way the air feels before a storm crashes down. His expression is plain, however, as he listens. It was the answer. He did have to. If he hadn't done any of that, he'd have never found Shiro. The end justifies the means. Shiro was always so full of emotions, something Keith remembered being drawn to and elated by even. His heartfelt objection to Keith's decisions are coming years too late. It's in the past, Shiro; yet Keith knows better than to correct him; knows better than to object to him.
So why does he feel this heaviness in his chest? The hand he had stared at before now rests under his sternum. ]
Then why are you still sick if it's that easy? You need to stop worrying about me and worry about yourself.
[ It's a good question, one he doesn't have an answer for. And while he's thought about having his emotions removed on the days when the pain is particularly bad, he can't do it. Wouldn't ever do it. He'd rather feel this pain than feel nothing at all and lose the chance to love again.
Which is what Keith has done to himself. And Shiro knows he's too late, which is the worst of it all. He should have been there. He promised Keith he'd never give up on him, and then disappeared when he'd needed him the most.
Pain flares in his chest, and he suddenly doubles over in his chair, coughing violently, his shoulders shaking from the force of it. Petals tinged with blood slip between his fingers and float to the floor, and when he finally stops, there's a thin line of blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His palm is covered with flecks of red, which he clenches into a fist as if he can hide any of this from Keith. ]
I'm fine. [ He's angry now, at himself, at the way his words come out wrought with tension, raspy from the thorns in his throat. Breathing hurts. Knowing what Keith did to himself hurts. Most of all, the feeling of never being quite enough hurts. ]
[ Keith hesitates, his foot taking him forward a step but he stops. What exactly is going on in his chest??? It's... like a memory. Not really though. When Shiro's coughing fit settles, he finally finds the strength to finish moving toward Shiro, reaching his hands out to cup that handsome face of his. His thumb smooths over the blood that trails down his lip, mindlessly considering how pretty Shiro's lips are. It's just factual!
For someone who's emotions had been removed, he looks shockingly sympathetic, eyebrows drawn inward with worry as he looks at Shiro doubtfully. ] You're not fine, [ But always with that patented objectiveness from a lack of emotions. ] There's no reason you can't have these feelings returned. You're amazing, Shiro. Anyone would be lucky to be loved by you.
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That very same night, realizing how passionately he felt about Shiro, he wept in pain as the flowers burst from his lungs. Beautiful , white flowers covered in blood as they ruined his throat. When Shiro "died," it didn't stop. He decided he needed to be clinical, precise, healthy if he ever wanted to find Shiro again, but like hell was he going to just let that last emotion die. The day of his operation to have those feelings removed, he punched Iverson with the last piece of passion that surged through his body. For Shiro.
A year and a half has passed since then. He found Shiro. He knew only after badgering Adam relentlessly with hurt and frustration that Adam had left Shiro; and so when it turned out Shiro had developed the disease himself. Whenever it came to mind, something sparkled in him; but he never quite put label on it. It felt so unidentifiable to him. So many little sparkles of somethings burst in him whenever Shiro was there. He would always have the memories of those emotions, so he was told; and so he believed that's all those sparkles could be. ]
no subject
It has to be Adam's fault. Shiro had never wanted to break up - he'd simply wanted Adam to wait. Unfair, perhaps. But he's never been the most rational about his love life and is starting to think any attempts at romance will only end up blowing up in his face. After escaping the nightmare of his captivity, this is the last thing he wants. Another disease, another way for the world to tell him he's not good enough and never will be.
He turns to the one person who's always been there. His constant. His best friend. The one person who's never given up on him. Keith credits him for too much when Shiro knows the truth is he'll never be able to repay him for giving him his life back. He owes Keith everything.
Keith's not in his room at the Garrison, but Shiro knows exactly where to find him. He knocks on the door of Keith's childhood home, and he blames the dry desert air for the way the flowers intensify like thorns in his chest. It hurts, but he's long used to pain, and he still greets his friend with a weary smile that he can't help every time he sees him. ]
I knew I'd find you here.
no subject
He smiles back, even though the smile means nothing to him any more, but there's that little sparkle in his bosom that flares up. ] Come in, [ he offers softly, tilting his head into the house, more run down than ever. ]
I was just looking at my old board, [ he explains, approaching the machinations of a teenager driven by obsession alone to find anything that might lead him to Shiro. His arms fold over his chest. ] Not much has changed.
no subject
You can take that down now, you know. [ He smiles gently, pulling out a chair and seating himself heavily at the table. He's been here many times, always able to track Keith down whenever things get to be too much and he decides to retreat. They've built new memories in this place, card games and late-night talks between drinks and pizza. Shiro would sometimes find his way here when he was on the outs with Adam, and Keith would always find a way to make him laugh again. ] I'm not going anywhere.
[ His lungs burn, and he coughs suddenly, the taste of blood on his tongue, but he swallows it back down with a wince. The last thing he wants to do is worry Keith. ]
We should fix this place up. [ As if he's in any condition for that, but he still wants to. ] A little project during our down time? Not that there's a lot of that, but... it would be nice to do something normal.
no subject
"We" is the problem; Shiro's too sick to do something like this. It's... illogical to push yourself that hard, but Shiro always did. It would be as unreasonable to protest for the sake of Shiro's health. As if to answer Shiro, he starts to tear the pictures down, careless of how they tear as he piles each ripped sheet in his arm. About midway through, however, his eyes settling on the picture of a cliffside; the picture that lead them to find the Blue Lion. That started their whole journey. This... images has meaning beyond the rest. It wasn't part of an obsession. It was beginning of a story. He starts to tear it down, but before even a little rip can be made, he stops, pauses, and draws his hand away, turning his back to the board to drop the sheets in a trashcan that probably should be thrown out with the papers.
Shiro's too sick, his mind repeats as it remembers the cough. It would be worse if he didn't speak out against the idea. He starts, a nearly callous tone as he speaks: ] Working on this house will just make your sickness worse. It's not worth that.
[ Nothing is worth Shiro's pain, after all. ]
no subject
He swallows with a wince, the needle pricks of thorns in his throat. ] Don't start doing that too, Keith. Not you. [ Glancing up with a tired smile on his lips, he continues. ] I need one person who still believes I can hammer a nail or use a paintbrush without dropping dead. I've done okay all this time, haven't I?
no subject
Look at this place, Shiro. My table is a scrap of sheet metal. The walls are caving in. I can't even live in half this house it's in such disrepair. Everything in here is trash. It'd be better off made into scrap for the restoration efforts so it actually can mean something to anyone. Even if it all just burns to keep people warm.
I don't know why you'd want to waste your spare time on this place. You have better ways to spend your time than in this pit and all you'd do is make yourself sicker. You'd just be killing yourself working on it. You should be out there, at the garrison, in the city, wherever it is people are and go fall in love with someone worth your time. Get over Adam. Forget he ever mattered because he's not worth the pain you're going through; not even a single petal. You deserve better than him.
There's so many people out there who already love you, so many people who just meeting you would fall in love with you! This illness... it doesn't suit you, Shiro. There's no reason for you to be suffering from it.
no subject
But he sees it now. It's so glaringly obvious that he can't believe he didn't catch it sooner. The chair scrapes against the floor as Shiro abruptly stands, his brows knitting. ]
Keith. What did you - [ He swallows, his flesh and blood hand clenching by his side. He doesn't address any of what Keith's actually said. ] You had your emotions removed?
no subject
They said the damage would be permanent if I didn't do something soon. I couldn't focus on the things that mattered. [ he looks at his hand, remembering the last furious emotion he felt as he laid this fist against Iverson's eye. The many times he saw flowers pool in this hand. ] I was never going to have those feelings returned, so I said fine. I got my mind back. I focused on what mattered most. I found you.
no subject
Keith. [ It feels like needles in his throat when he swallows. ] You didn't... you didn't have to. I never would've asked that of you. I don't want this for you.
[ Even with knowing how Keith's emotions used to run so strongly that they controlled nearly everything he did, that he raged with anger and sorrow and loneliness and so much love that he could barely distinguish it from pain, even with that... he never wanted Keith to erase them. He always wanted Keith to simply learn to control them, to accept his sensitivity and coexist with the beautiful storm inside of himself. For all of that to be gone... Shiro feels like he's lost a tangible thing. ]
Everyone has crushes, Keith. Everyone ends up liking someone who may not like them back. But with time, you learn you accept it. You get better. And eventually, you find someone else and things will be good again. Cutting out your emotions isn't the answer.
no subject
So why does he feel this heaviness in his chest? The hand he had stared at before now rests under his sternum. ]
Then why are you still sick if it's that easy? You need to stop worrying about me and worry about yourself.
no subject
Which is what Keith has done to himself. And Shiro knows he's too late, which is the worst of it all. He should have been there. He promised Keith he'd never give up on him, and then disappeared when he'd needed him the most.
Pain flares in his chest, and he suddenly doubles over in his chair, coughing violently, his shoulders shaking from the force of it. Petals tinged with blood slip between his fingers and float to the floor, and when he finally stops, there's a thin line of blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His palm is covered with flecks of red, which he clenches into a fist as if he can hide any of this from Keith. ]
I'm fine. [ He's angry now, at himself, at the way his words come out wrought with tension, raspy from the thorns in his throat. Breathing hurts. Knowing what Keith did to himself hurts. Most of all, the feeling of never being quite enough hurts. ]
no subject
For someone who's emotions had been removed, he looks shockingly sympathetic, eyebrows drawn inward with worry as he looks at Shiro doubtfully. ] You're not fine, [ But always with that patented objectiveness from a lack of emotions. ] There's no reason you can't have these feelings returned. You're amazing, Shiro. Anyone would be lucky to be loved by you.