Archive of Our Own

There are seven pills left in the bottle.

Keith’s known the number by heart ever since they landed on the Castle of Lions for the foreseeable future, but he still counts and recounts every morning like it'll make a difference.

Seven pills. Six, once he takes one dry.

He tries not to worry about it as he puts on his armor. Routine is helping him right now. Meal, training, meal, training, rest. There isn't time to worry about the pills disappearing from his bottle, or what the hell he's going to do when it’s empty.

Days like these he likes to spend near Shiro, taking comfort in his presence. Doesn’t matter that Shiro doesn’t know what’s going on, and is too kind to ask—he still tries to help Keith however he can.

That’s why Keith can never tell him.

He makes his way to the kitchen commons for breakfast. He’s not late, but Shiro and Coran are already gone (“Something about his arm?” Hunk says) and it makes his already-bad mood worse because he’s stuck next to Lance, who’s practically vibrating out of his seat as he talks to Allura. Moreso than usual.

Keith leans over to Pidge. “What’s with him?”

Pidge doesn’t even ask who he’s talking about, just casts Lance an annoyed look. “Allura mentioned sharpshooting practice today and this guy can’t wait to show off.”

“Oh,” Keith says, without really getting it. Lance is always trying to show off, but it isn’t usually with this much excitement.

The reason why becomes clear once they get into the training room and Lance, who insisted on going first, finishes off a round of long-range static target practice with his energy blaster. The target bots are hovering at the far edge of the room—too far for Keith to even really see them—but when the results are displayed, Lance has hit all of them dead-center.

Lance smirks and blows invisible smoke off the tips of his fingers. “And that’s how it’s done, baby.”

Keith rolls his eyes, but next to him, Allura is applauding.

“How marvelous!” she says, eyes glittering with excitement. “And from such a distance! I must agree your marksmanship is truly impressive.”

“What can I say?” Lance twirls the energy blaster around his finger. “I was born for it.”

“You were born for showing off, you mean,” Pidge says, grabbing the blaster from him and double-checking the safety. “He’s a Sentinel,” she says to Allura. “S1. Means that he has one enhanced sense, for a human. Lance’s is sight.”

“Enhanced sight?” Allura says, looking between them both. “What does that mean, exactly?”

“Basically what it sounds like—” Lance begins, and Keith tunes out the following explanation in favor of taking the blaster from Pidge and going to reset the target bots.

He fires off shots without really paying attention to where they’re landing. He doesn’t actually feel like training. He just doesn’t want to have to listen to Lance talk about how great it is to be a Sentinel.

He hates feeling jealous—it’s a rush of blood and anxiety that’s never actually done him any good—but more than that he hates the fact that this great ability is why he has to experience the world like this, muffled and muted, while others can get along just fine.

That’s the thing with being dependent on Absense—it makes the world more livable, but it also makes it feel less like the world.

He could’ve tried to get off it, back when he was on Earth; bond with a Guide and never have to see a single pill of Absense again. But he’s wary about letting anyone in that close to him. Although now…

He remembers the six pills left in the bottle, and just as quickly tries to forget them.

He only has one choice if he wants a Guide now, and—no, not him.

Never him.

“What’s everyone up to in here?”

Of course thinking about Shiro would make him appear. Keith puts down the blaster and turns to see Shiro and Coran standing just in the doorway. Shiro catches his gaze and gives him a little smile and wave that Keith can’t help but return.

“We were just telling Allura about Sentinels,” Lance says. “Hey, Coran, did you know—”

Keith takes that as a signal to tune out again, but this time Shiro joins him before he can start another mindless training session.

“Hey.” Shiro’s voice is low and warm. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” Keith waves a hand toward the others. “Just not really in the mood to talk about that stuff.”

“I get it,” Shiro says, and his eyes are knowing—too knowing, for all that Keith’s worked to hide from him.

Keith looks down, fiddles with the blaster in his hands instead. There’s a rough grain to the material, but it feels almost smooth under his thumb. Somehow, that makes him even more frustrated.

“Sometimes it’s easy to forget it’s not all fun and games for Sentinels and Guides,” Shiro says, eyes distant as he looks over the group, and Lance still animatedly monologuing. “No disrespect to Lance, of course—”

“You can disrespect him,” Keith says.

Shiro gives him a stern look, but the corners of his lips are turned up. “Be nice, Keith. You’re teammates now.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Somehow that doesn’t seem to stop Lance from being an ass to Keith, but Keith would rather not talk about Lance right now. He sets the blaster down and leans against the wall. “You were saying?”

Shiro leans next to him, not touching, but close enough that Keith has to look up to see his face. “Not much. Just thinking back to the Garrison. You know I’m an S-rank Guide?”

“Yeah.” Shiro doesn’t bring it up often, but it’s a fact that’s impossible to forget, especially for Keith.

“The higher-ups were always calling me in because of that,” Shiro says. “Having me help with the higher-level Sentinels, since I was one of the only ones who could. Tried to convince me to bond with some of them, too. I was annoyed by it, but I got it. I mean, once you’re S3 or higher you basically have to take Absense or bond if you want to be able to get through the day.”

“Adam’s an S3, right?”

“Yeah.” Shiro smiles without humor. “We never ended up bonding, obviously, because of… well, a lot of reasons. But god, he hated taking Absense when I wasn’t around. Said it felt like being underwater all the time. It sounds awful.”

Keith hates it, but he also feels more desensitized to it, having taken Absense since he activated. He can’t imagine how it would feel to go back to Absense after experiencing life with a Guide.

“Anyway, after seeing what he went through,” Shiro says, “I get why Sentinels would rather bond, if they could. I didn’t before, because of the whole bond-break, but now…”

Now he’s not worried about his disease being a death sentence. It’s maybe the only good thing to come out of Shiro’s time with the Galra, though at a cost that was far too steep.

Shiro looks down at his hand, clenched loosely into a fist. “I’ve been thinking about it, but I still don’t know,” he says. “I want to make my own choices, you know? But there are only so many S-rank Guides to go around, so… I don’t know. I’m still thinking about it.”

“Yeah.” Keith looks down at his own hands. “Makes sense.”

It’s the answer he expected from Shiro—always willing to help others and think about the greater good, even at his own expense.

“Anyway, no point worrying about any of that stuff,” Shiro says, pushing off from the wall with a stretch. “One nice thing about being stuck out here for now. No Sentinels to worry about.”

“Hey!” Lance shouts from the group in the middle of the room. “Proud S1 standing right here!”

“No Sentinels for me to worry about,” Shiro clarifies. “I’d say Hunk’s got you covered pretty well.”

Hunk, who Keith remembers is a C-rank Guide, grins and gives Shiro a thumbs-up. “Leave him to me!”

“Whatever,” Pidge says. “Me and Keith are just gonna enjoy the normie life. Right, Keith?”

“Yeah,” Keith says, watching Shiro’s back as he moves to join the group. “Right.”

There are four pills left in the bottle, and Keith accepts the fact that he needs help.

It’s easy to sneak out after dinner and hunt down Coran. It’s harder to explain to him what the issue is.

“Would this also not afflict Number Three if you have the same condition?” Coran says as he examines the pill through the lens of some device. “I don’t recall him mentioning it in his quite thorough explanation.”

“It’s different when you have five senses activated,” Keith says. “It’s too much mental energy to control on my own.”

Coran pulls back to look at him. “And what does it mean, precisely, to lose control?”

“It’s like sensory overload,” Keith says. “To the extreme. You see everything, every speck of dust. You taste the particles in the air. You hear the blood in people’s veins, and you can smell the pheromones on their skin. You feel every thread on everything you’re wearing. And your brain can’t process all of it, so it tries to cope by picking just one sense to focus on, but then it becomes the only thing you can focus on, and you stop responding to anything else. They call it entering a fugue state.”

Coran frowns. “That sounds quite serious.”

“It’s hard to snap us out of it, especially if you aren’t a Guide,” Keith says. “It’s even harder the more senses we have activated. I’m S5, so I’d need an S-rank Guide to pull me out. A weaker Guide would get hurt trying.”

“If this is a natural affliction, should there not be a natural means of controlling it?” Coran says, tapping his chin. “I can’t imagine that reliance on medication is the only way to prevent you from entering this—this fugue state.”

Keith hesitates. Part of him doesn’t really want Coran to know about this, but he should explain it if it could help Coran come up with a solution. “Did Lance mention anything about bonding?”

“Hm.” Coran twirls his mustache in thought. “If he did, it was but briefly.”

“I don’t know how much he told you,” Keith says, “but Guides have psychic cognitive abilities. That’s why they can help us get back in control, even if we’re going through sensory overload. They can make a mental bridge to literally get inside our minds to help us manage our senses.”

“I do recall this, yes,” Coran says. “Though I believe Lance referred to it as mind-melding.”

Sounds like Lance. “Kind of? Sometimes emotions and memories can leak through the bridge, but if the Guide’s trained then their shields should be able to prevent that. You’d have to ask Shiro or Hunk if you want to know more about how that all works.”

“Oh?” Coran says. “Is Shiro a Guide as well? What rank is he?”

Something else he doesn’t exactly want to divulge, but there’s really no way to dodge this question.

“S-rank,” Keith says after a moment. “Anyway, bonding is when a Sentinel and Guide choose to make a more permanent mental bridge between them. With a bond, a Guide can help a Sentinel control their senses all the time, no matter when or where, so a Sentinel with a bond wouldn’t need to take Absense to stay in control.”

“I see, I see,” Coran says. “And this is a permanent link, you said?”

“The mental stress a bond-break causes isn’t survivable for a lot of people,” Keith says quietly. “So, yeah. Permanent.”

“That is quite the commitment indeed,” Coran says, stroking his mustache again. “Though I would be remiss if I didn’t point out that Shiro does appear to be of the appropriate rank, and it seems the both of you do have quite the strong bond already, even if it’s not quite this Sentinel-Guide bond you speak of. Have you considered maybe—”

“No,” Keith says firmly. “I’m not asking him that.”

Coran frowns at him for a moment, looking like he wants to say something but is unsure how to say it. Keith meets his gaze head-on.

“Right then.” Coran turns back to his device and pulls out the small clear tray with the pill on it. “I’ll do what I can, but considering I still have much to learn about this aspect of human physiology as well as the lack of directly equivalent ingredients on hand, it may take some time before I can develop something with the same level of safety and effectiveness. I’ll need to keep this one for analysis. How many do you have left?”

“Three.”

Three, Coran mouths. “This mental bridge, you said it can be formed without a bond, correct? Even if you aren’t ready to form the bond, he could help you manage the symptoms while you’re working, yes?”

Keith’s heart pounds in his throat. “He doesn’t know. You can’t tell him.”

“And why not?” Coran says, crossing his arms. “Young man, this is your life at stake!”

“I’m not going to die,” Keith says. Probably. “Seriously, Coran, I can handle it. Please don’t say anything to Shiro.”

Coran leans back in his seat and sighs. “I can’t say I completely understand the situation here,” he says, rubbing his forehead, “but I will respect your wishes. But three quintants isn’t nearly enough time for me to come up with anything, even if I worked the whole quintants through.”

“I can… I can cut the ones I have left in half,” Keith says. “That’ll be six quintants.”

Coran doesn’t look satisfied. “That could help, but… will it be safe to reduce the dosage in that way?”

“I don’t know,” Keith says.

But he doesn’t really have a choice except to find out.

The next morning, when Keith feels his clothes prickle against his skin the way it does when the Absense starts wearing off, he cuts three-quarters of a pill to take, and saves the last quarter to use on the last day.

It’ll be okay. He can do this.

He has to.

Keith doesn’t really know the biomechanics of it all, but apparently taking a partial dose of Absense doesn’t apply to all of his senses in a balanced way. For the most part it’s manageable, but there’s so much fucking noise.

It’s like he’s hearing everything and nothing all at the same time, a cacophony of sound that’s at once Shiro’s bright laughter Hunk’s steady echoing footsteps the low persistent hum of energy in the Castle of Lions his heartbeat pounding in his ears faster and faster the sharp displacement of air as he moves—and also, entirely meaningless put together.

“Keith!”

Keith flinches away at the burst of sound, clamping a hand over his ear. “What the fuck, Lance!”

“Well, maybe if you paid attention the first ten times, I wouldn’t have to yell!” Lance says. “What the heck is up with you today, anyway? You keep zoning out.”

“It’s nothing,” Keith says through gritted teeth, looking at the floor between his feet where he’s sitting on the bench. “Just have a headache.”

“You have a headache?” Shiro says as he plops down on the bench next to him, wiping sweat off his brow. His heartbeat is elevated from the round he’s just finished with Allura. Keith watches, fixated, as a bead trickles down to his jaw. He’s snapped out if it when Shiro adds, “You should be resting, Keith.”

God, this was the last thing Keith wanted. He tears his gaze away, absently watching Pidge and Hunk sparring on the far side of the room instead, ears tuning into the clash of their swords. “It’s fine, Shiro, don’t worry about it.”

“Keith.” Shiro’s hand lands heavy on his shoulder and squeezes. “You don't have to prove anything to us. Rest.”

Shiro’s scent is making Keith light-headed, but he tries to push through. “I know. It's really fine.”

He needs Shiro to believe him. Shiro looks like he really, really doesn't.

Keith sets his towel aside, takes a steadying breath, and stands, picking up his training sword from where it's propped next to the bench. “Well? You just gonna sit there, old man?”

“I see what you’re trying to do,” Shiro says, but he stands and picks up his sword, too.

They take the clear space near the door and go through basic drills without speaking, Altean swordfighting sequences that Coran taught them. Keith starts on the offense for the first sequence, then they switch before moving on to the next, and the next, and the next.

It’s meditative, and just what Keith needs. His mind can slip, the world becoming quieter, while his body goes through the movements one by one, led by the gleam of Shiro’s sword.

It’s a simple thing, sleek and white with a glowing blue line down the center—energy that can be released with Altean magic, not that any of them can take advantage of that. Shiro’s hand is closed around the handle, clad in the black glove of the Paladin uniform. The material of it, now that Keith looks closely, is rubbery but distinctly woven, with—

“Keith!”

Keith snaps his head up to see Shiro standing next to him, concern heavy in his gaze, “Are you all right? You just froze.”

That was close. Really close. And the longer he looks at Shiro, the quicker he’s finding himself nearly-slipping again, and with his sight‚ why his sight? Why not sound?

And then Keith realizes. It's not just that a partial dose is less effective at dampening his senses—it's also wearing off more quickly.

“Keith!” Shiro looks even more worried now. “What’s going on?”

“Sorry,” Keith says. He picks up his sword from where it’d fallen to the ground. “Sorry, I just felt really sick all of a sudden.”

Shiro presses his lips together the way he does when he wants to say something but is deciding to physically keep it in. Usually, Keith encourages him to spit it out. This time, Keith doesn’t want to know.

“I’ll be okay,” Keith tries.

Shiro shakes his head and takes the sword from him.

“Go to bed, Keith,” Shiro says softly. “That's an order.”

Keith goes.

The next morning, Keith cuts himself another three-quarter dose.

He had to take another three-quarters last night so he wouldn’t go mad trying not to scratch his own skin off under the blankets, which means now he’s only left with three quarter pills left. He could take two tomorrow for a half dose, have a quarter for the last day, and then…

He needs to talk to Coran.

He resolves to at the end of the day, though first he has to make it through the day. It should be better, he thinks—he made it almost all the way through yesterday, and it should only be easier, right?

“Hey.” Shiro catches him in front of the kitchens with a hand on his shoulder.

Keith glances up at him, and winces away from the quiet concern in his expression. “Hey.”

Shiro’s eyes scan up and down his body and Keith fidgets, feeling naked under his gaze, but Shiro’s expression doesn’t change. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” Keith says, fighting to keep his tone from sounding too defensive. “I feel a lot better now. You don't have to worry about me.”

“I know.” For another few seconds, there's nothing but the hum of the Castle of Lions, and Keith counts Shiro’s steady breaths. “We haven't really gotten much rest since this all started. It's okay if you need to sit out today, or even the next few days. Quintants. You know what I mean.”

Keith smiles despite himself. “Yeah. Well, you, too. When's the last time you took a break?”

Shiro smiles back. “Hey now, no turning this on me. Who's the one with the headache between the two of us?”

“Not anymore,” Keith reminds him.

“Right.” Shiro's quiet again, and Keith turns back to watching and hearing his steady inhales and exhales. It's consistent and calming, like a metronome.

“Keith,” Shiro says, his voice much more somber than before, “if something were wrong, you'd tell me, right?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Keith says, as gently as he can manage.

“But if something were,” Shiro says. “Keith, promise me you won't try to hide it.”

The hand Keith has tucked behind his back is clenched so tightly into a fist it hurts where his nails are digging into his skin. “I won't.”

Shiro doesn’t look completely convinced, but he nods and leads them both into the kitchen for breakfast.

Keith eats his Hunk-created goo pancake extravaganza and tries to get himself under control. He needs to be able to handle this. If he doesn’t want Shiro to find out, if he doesn’t want to end up in a state where he’ll have no choice but for Shiro to find out and feel responsible, he needs to be able to handle this. There’s no alternative.

The others are discussing the training for the day. According to their schedule, it’s morning basic workouts and strength training, and afternoon training with the Lions, but the others are throwing him concerned looks as they talk about the latter.

“If you’re still not feeling well, perhaps it would be best to delay for another few quintants,” Allura says.

Her voice doesn’t hold anything in it except kind concern, but it makes Keith feel defensive anyway, especially combined with Shiro’s worried expression next to her. “I’ll be fine,” he tells them.

Shiro clearly doesn’t believe him, but it really will be fine. It’s his second day of being on the three-quarters dose. In the end it is just his hearing that he has to keep under control, mostly, and he has a much better handle on it now.

He just needs to prove it to them.

As it turns out, the Red Lion actually is a much better environment for managing his senses. Her cockpit is a lot quieter than the Castle. There’s still that humming of underlying energy, but over that, there's a steady, calming purr that soothes his mind.

“Hey, kitty,” he murmurs as he slides into the seat, and the purr grows louder, enveloping his mind like a warm blanket. He smiles a bit.

Yeah, he’ll be all right.

“All right, team,” Shiro says through the comms. “Let’s start off with some basic formations. On my mark.”

They’ve done enough formation work now that this, at least, goes fine. He still remembers early on when they’d be constantly in each other’s paths as they shifted from one formation to the next, and the chaos that followed over the comms. He really doesn’t think he’d be able to handle that now.

“Hunk, make sure you’re staying a little further back here,” Shiro says.

“Got it!”

They continue flying in a silence only broken occasionally by Shiro’s guidance. It’s the most peaceful he’s been since this started. He sinks into the steady purring in his mind and follows Shiro’s steady commands in his ear, his eyes tracking the Black Lion’s movements through his viewport as they change positions. He falls into a lull. Even Lance and Pidge shouting at each other after mixing up an instruction doesn’t distract him.

In fact, nothing distracts him from how his gaze is locked onto the Black Lion’s every movement, starting with her tail. He never really noticed before, the way it twitches immediately before she moves—a minute signal indicating the direction she’s going to go.

He also never really considered exactly how the Lions’ tails actually move, but now, with how quickly his eyes can track it, it almost feels like he can see it all in slow motion.

It’s made up of a series of segments, small enough that the gap between them is microscopic as each segment moves independently, giving it the illusion of being a continuous piece. It's hypnotic to watch the movement cascading up and down the length of the tail as it swishes back and forth. There’s a faint ring of light at the end of the tail that pulses with the movement, and dims as the tail becomes still. With the tail sitting steady, it’s easier to count up the lengths of the segments, one two three four five-six-seven-eight-nineteneleventwelvethirteenfourteen—

“Keith.” Shiro’s voice is low and warm, and buzzes pleasantly in Keith’s head the same way the Lion’s purr did. “Can you hear me?”

Keith replies with a hum, eyes still trained on the splash of paint at the tip of the Black Lion’s tail.

“Keith, I need you to listen to me,” Shiro says, and the faint tremor of concern in his voice puts Keith on red alert. The Black Lion becomes forgotten as Keith throws all his attention to Shiro, listening to his steady, steady breathing and the rushed beat of his heart. “I’m holding out my hand. I need you to grab on. You don’t have to look, it’s right by your left. Just reach out.”

Shiro’s in the Black Lion, so Keith doesn’t understand how it’s possible for his hand to be here, but he trusts Shiro, so he reaches out.

True to Shiro’s word, his fingers make contact with Shiro’s left palm, familiar in its size and warmth and the creases running across it. Strange, since Keith could have sworn he was wearing the armor and gloves, but he doesn’t have much time to think on it before Shiro squeezes his hand, hard enough that he really feels the pressure of it.

“I’m going to pull you out,” Shiro says. “Don’t let go, okay?”

Keith wouldn’t, but also, pull him out of what?

Then the world spins, and Keith shuts his eyes against the burst of sound and blinding light, grabbing onto Shiro’s hand like a lifeline. There’s a loud scream, which Keith takes a moment to realize is coming from him.

When he breaks off into a gasp, he finds himself slumped over in Shiro’s arms.

“You’re okay,” Shiro says, still squeezing his hand. The worry is still there in his voice, but his grip is firm and steady. “You’re okay, Keith, I’ve got you.”

The world is remarkably clear once Keith takes a moment to collect himself. Even beside him, he can't hear Shiro’s heartbeat anymore, just his steady breathing. They're in Red’s cockpit, Keith on the seat and Shiro kneeling in front of him. The world feels calmer again, like it did when he was on the full dose of Absense—but also brighter, more lucid in a way he can’t quite describe.

Dread pools in Keith’s gut. “What happened?”

“You went into fugue,” Shiro says. “I guess the Red Lion noticed and called us all back. We're in the Castle of Lions now. And something tells me you didn't just activate.”

Shiro doesn't give any indication he's about to pull away, but Keith squeezes his hand tighter anyway. “Shiro, I...”

“You don't have to explain now,” Shiro says gently, “but we are going to have to talk about it after you're feeling better. Is the link all right?”

Keith can feel a calm that isn't his, the serenity that Shiro is projecting from across their mind-bridge, pulsing in time with each of Shiro’s steady breaths. Keith’s own breathing, he realizes, has adjusted to match.

He’s had mental links formed before for examinations, and those had always felt foreign, like a door opening in his mind that he’s immediately itching to slam shut. His link with Shiro feels so natural that he hadn’t even noticed it was there until he mentioned it. It feels like it belongs.

That scares him.

“You can stop it now,” Keith says.

Shiro is still for a moment, then he says in a voice full of apology, “I really can't. Not until we can get you your Absense. You're S5, right?”

His Absense. Right. Keith looks down at his feet, resting beside Shiro’s knees. “Yeah.”

“When was the last time you missed a dose of Absense since you started? Or the last time you were supported by a Guide instead?”

Keith presses his lips together, but doesn't correct Shiro’s assumption. “I haven't. Either of those.”

“Then your brain isn't ready to handle it, Keith,” Shiro says gently. “I'll be honest, I'm tamping down everything right now. If I break the connection, you're going to go into fugue again like that. Let me just take you back to your room, okay?”

“Okay.” Keith lets Shiro pull him out of the chair, but hesitates once they reach the Lion’s bay doors. “The others—”

“Back in the common area,” Shiro says. “They'll have questions, but don't worry about it for now.”

Keith wants to know exactly what Shiro told them, what exactly he’s going to have to explain, but he agrees that now isn’t the time for that. He bites his lip. “Okay.”

They make their way back to Keith’s room in silence, Shiro a soothing presence by his side and in his mind. He always knew Shiro was a good Guide, not just because of his rank but because he’s Shiro, and this just proves it. But he can’t help the guilt and frustration that rises in him. This, all of this, was the one thing he was trying to prevent, but he couldn’t even do that right.

In his periphery, he sees Shiro looking over at him, but in the end, he doesn’t say anything.

Once in the room, Shiro guides him over to sit on the bed, after another brief expression that Keith can't quite decipher flits over his face. Then he's off to Keith’s cabinets. “I'll get your Absense for you. Is it in here?”

“Shiro, wait,” Keith says, but it's too late.

Shiro's frowning at the bottle of Absense, and the number of pills left in it. “Do you have more?” he says, opening the bottle.

Keith doesn't answer, because as soon as Shiro sees the cut pills, he'll know.

Sure enough, Shiro’s face turns stony. “Keith, tell me you didn't try to take a quarter dose.”

“It’s been three-quarters,” Keith says, because there isn't any point in lying about it. “I was going to take two of them tomorrow.”

“Oh, Keith,” Shiro says, sounding so, so sad and Keith staggers up from the bed.

It's everything that he’s been trying desperately to avoid.

“It's fine,” Keith rushes to say. “It wasn't going to be a permanent thing. I just needed to buy time. I asked Coran to help synthesize a version of Absense for me to take while we're up here. I mean, even if I did have more, I'd run out eventually.”

“And how long does Coran need for that?”

Keith bites his lips again and rubs his fingers together. “He doesn't know.”

Shiro exhales loudly. It’s not quite a sigh, and not quite disappointment, but there’s a tiredness there that Keith aches to hear.

“Let me help you,” Shiro says. “The partial Absense won't get you through, but I can.”

Keith's already shaking his head. “No. I don't want you to—” To be stuck with me. To have to have to take care of me all the time. To pity me. “I can handle it.”

“I know you're strong, Keith,” Shiro says, face and tone carefully expressionless, “but you can't go from taking Absense all day, every day to nothing, just like that. Not to mention I haven't heard of anyone stronger than S3 who can survive without either Absense or a bond.”

“I don't want a bond,” Keith says quickly, before Shiro can propose anything along those lines as a solution. “I swear, Shiro, Coran’s working on it. I just need to get by for a little longer.”

“If it's just a little longer, then what's the harm in letting me help?” Shiro says.

“If we pre-bond…” Keith trails off.

It could happen between a highly compatible Guide and Sentinel, even if they don't mean to form one consciously. If they’re both unconsciously reaching out over the mind-bridge, it’s enough to form a prebonding link, to make it easier to complete the bond in the future—and Keith knows without checking that his mind is definitely always reaching out for Shiro’s.

It wouldn't affect Keith much, as a Sentinel without the same psychic abilities as a Guide, but he knows that for Guides a pre-bond break isn't pleasant to deal with. That's why the Garrison would always rotate which Guide was assigned to unbonded Sentinels. That's why semi-permanent partnerships are reserved for those who plan to make it permanent in the future.

He knows Shiro knows all of this too, but Shiro just smiles lightly at him. “You don't have to worry about pre-bonding.”

Oh.

Shiro doesn't think they'll pre-bond. That’s fine. That’s good news, actually. And tracks perfectly with what Keith’s known about Shiro all along—even if he doesn’t have any personal investment, he’ll help, because that’s what he does.

Somehow, Keith didn’t expect it to hurt this much.

“I’m trained,” Shiro says. “I know how to keep the connection as light as possible, and how to shield on both sides so we don’t get any emotional leakage. You won’t have to worry about any of that. You’ll barely even know I’m there.”

Some part of him desperately wants to know—wants to feel—that Shiro’s there for him.

But he understands the limits of what Shiro’s offering. The minimum, and no more. As it should be.

Keith rubs his fingers together. “Only until Coran figures out how to synthesize a new version,” he promises.

Shiro’s shoulders sag in relief. Keith tries not to read too much into it. “That’s fine,” Shiro says. “Are you tired? I can send a message to Coran for you while you wash up first.”

Already trying to figure out how quickly he can get out of this. Keith tries not to let that bother him, either, and takes a step back. “Yeah, okay.” He doesn’t know what time it is, but he feels drained enough to rest. Then his mind replays Shiro’s words, and he pauses. “Wait, what do you mean first? Are you staying here?”

“You’re not going to be able to sleep if I’m not here,” Shiro says.

There’s enough Absense to last the nights, at least. Keith reaches for the bottle. “I could—”

Shiro pulls it away from him, putting it back into the cabinet and shutting it. “You need to save this for emergencies. Don’t worry, the link’s stable enough for me to keep open even if I’m asleep, so I only need to be close by. We don’t even have to be touching,” he says, gesturing at the space between them as if to prove it. “I could sleep on the floor.”

“C’mon, Shiro, I’m not gonna let you sleep on the floor,” Keith says.

Shiro raises his eyebrows. “Well, you’re definitely not sleeping on the floor, and I think it might be a struggle to get us both onto there,” he says, nodding to the single-person-sized bunk. “Don’t worry, I’m fine with it. You just might need to come with me to grab a blanket.”

“We can share,” Keith says, with a confidence he definitely doesn’t feel. He turns away from Shiro’s gaze and starts taking off his armor. “I’m small, so.”

He’s definitely not small enough for them both to properly fit—not with Shiro’s size, anyway—but Shiro doesn’t argue with him. “If you’re sure…”

“I’m sure,” Keith says, and that’s the end of that.

They do end up having to go to Shiro’s room down the hall so he can grab a set of pajamas, but then they wash up and change back in Keith’s room and, when they’re all done with that, squish into Keith’s bed.

Shiro said they didn’t have to be touching, but they are anyway because there’s really no way for them not to be. Shiro’s crammed himself in by the wall, laying on his side, but when Keith joins him he has to rest snug against him if he doesn’t want to fall off the edge.

Shiro reaches his arm around Keith and tucks him in close, keeping him from rolling. “This okay?”

“Yeah,” Keith says quietly.

Keith’s entire nervous system is oriented towards Shiro like it’s reaching for the sun, and he thinks he’s so red Shiro might be able to see him glowing, even in the dark, but the rest of it—the rest of it is good. True to his word, Shiro’s keeping a solid grasp on all of Keith’s senses, even his hearing—the Castle’s hum has faded away. But unlike when he’s on Absense, he can still hear the faint rustle of clothing and Shiro’s quiet breathing behind him. The fabric of his pajamas is slightly rough against his skin, but not irritating.

He never realized before how little he was experiencing of the world—how everything came to him through layers of cotton.

But this isn’t something he should get used to, because this isn’t something that can last.

Shiro’s arm squeezes him lightly, as if to say I can hear you thinking.

And maybe he can.

“Good night, Keith,” is all Shiro says, soft and warm and sure.

Keith burrows into his blanket and wants, and regrets. “Good night.”

Keith should have expected Lance to bug him about it the next day. He blames Shiro for lulling him into a false sense of security over the whole thing.

They’re eating a typical breakfast of Hunk-prepared food goo. Atypically, Keith’s goo isn’t one of Hunk’s creative recipes, meant to bring some excitement to an otherwise bland, goopy meal. Instead, his goo is watery with a very light flavor that seems specifically made for sensitive Sentinels, which he’s grateful for. He’s been finding all morning that his clothes are slightly distracting against his skin, and his toothpaste is slightly too rough and sweet.

“It’s because you’re still expecting it to be like it was when you were taking Absense, I think,” Shiro said when Keith explained. “I could try to pull back your senses a bit more, but… if you’re okay with it, I think it could be good for you to get used to expanding your senses a bit.”

Keith couldn’t argue with that—and, also, he’s enjoying this newer, clearer world, even though he knows he shouldn’t.

“Soooooo,” Lance says, leaning into Keith’s space while he’s absently stirring his goo soup. “What’s going on with you?”

Keith glances at Shiro, who just shrugs. They must know he’s a Sentinel, at least, if Hunk’s making him Sentinel soup. And from there it isn’t a stretch for them to know he’d gone into fugue.

“I ran out of Absense,” he says.

Pidge chokes on her mouthful of goo. “You’re a Sentinel?”

“You’re taking Absense?” Lance says, slamming his hand on the table. “What level are you?”

Keith grips his spoon tighter. “Does it matter? I’ve never used my senses anyway. I’ll be fine after Coran figures out a replacement I can take.”

“Oh, so Shiro’s helping you out for now?” Hunk says, glancing between the two of them. “Guess it makes sense why he asked me to make you the soup, then. I thought you were just sick.”

Keith throws a surprised look towards Shiro, who’s steadfastly looking into his own plate of food. Of course Shiro would know how to take care of a Sentinel who needs to adjust to re-sensitizing. He looks away quickly before Shiro can catch him smiling and gives Hunk a noncommittal hum.

“We’ll need to take a break from training with our Lions,” Shiro says after a moment. “Which means unfortunately any practice with forming Voltron is out of the question. Keith and I are going to need to be in the same physical space for the time being.”

“Wait wait wait,” Pidge says, looking wildly between the both of them. “So you’re not bonded?”

“No,” Keith says.

Shiro looks down at his plate again.

“Ugh, so we can’t do anything?” Lance says.

“Not to worry,” Allura says pleasantly. “We still have plenty of combat simulations to work through with the training bots.”

Lance groans. “Sorry I asked.”

Training with the bots is probably the worst session in their rotation, just because Allura makes sure that they’re always training above their skill level so that they can learn. Most of the time, it ends up with Keith getting beat down and frustrated.

This time—it’s strange. He never realized just how much Absense actually toned down everything. He knew it did, but he’d never had any baseline to compare it to until now. Now—it’s so much easier to see, to hear, to feel, to read all those signals and let his body react.

“You’re so cheating!” Lance says.

“How could I cheat?” Keith grunts as he yanks his blade out of the bot.

“Shiro!” Lance shouts. “Is he cheating?”

Shiro laughs a little. “I don’t think senses are cheating. But no, I’m really not letting him enhance anything. It’s just baseline.”

Lance grumbles, but Keith decides it is a little bit like cheating. If this is what experiencing the world feels like normally, then he’s been going through it all with weights on.

With Shiro, he can be free.

It’s a thought that follows him through the rest of the day, but he doesn’t want to give it too much space in his mind. He’d already decided, far before, that Shiro deserves to make his own choices about his future. He shouldn’t bond to Keith for Keith’s sake, and Keith shouldn’t pressure him into making any kind of choice.

It doesn’t mean he can’t have his dreams.

“You did good today,” Shiro tells him as they make their way back to the rooms that night. He has a pleased bounce to his step that Keith can’t help but smile at.

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” Keith says. “Was it true, what you said? That wasn't enhanced?”

“Yeah, it’s easy to keep you at baseline, but it takes a bit more mental energy from both of us to enhance,” Shiro says. “I wouldn’t do that to you without asking first.”

“Oh,” Keith says.

They come to a stop in front of his room, and Shiro picks up a large bundle sitting on the ground in front of his door. “Why do you ask?”

“It feels different,” Keith says, frowning at the bundle.

“Good different?”

“Good different.”

Shiro smiles. “Good.” He hands Keith the bundle. “This is for you. You can open it on your bed.”

It turns out to be a pair of pajamas wrapped in a large, medium-weight blanket. He doesn’t know what it’s all made out of, but the fabric is the softest thing he’s ever touched. He can’t stop running his hands over it.

“Do you like it?” Shiro says.

Keith nods. “Where’d you get it?”

“Asked Allura for help.” Shiro grins at him. “Figured if anyone knew where the soft clothes and blankets were on this ship, it’d be her.”

Keith pinches the blanket between his fingers instead of pinching himself. “You didn’t have to do all this for me.”

Shiro squeezes his shoulder, light but firm. “I wanted to. Come on, let’s get ready for bed.”

His sleep that night is sound.

“Patience, Keith,” Shiro says.

Keith resists the urge to growl. “I am trying.”

It feels impossible. His senses have always been all or nothing at the same time, and now he’s agreed to spend their rest day working at controlling one at a time steadily, while Shiro helps keep the rest of them in check.

They’re starting with sight, as that’s the most commonly used sense, and also the easiest to enter fugue with by accident.

But there has to be a different way of training this than just sitting and holding Shiro’s wrists and staring at his face. Keith can’t blame it entirely on his Sentinel status that he gets so distracted studying the flecks in Shiro’s irises that he descends into a fugue and Shiro has to pull him back, and Keith flushes at being caught like this once more.

“You don't have to be embarrassed,” Shiro says, squeezing his wrists lightly. “It'll take some time to get the hang of it.”

Keith’s frustration gets the best of him. “Once I start on the Absense again—”

“It's still important to be able to control your senses,” Shiro says calmly. “Especially if you want to take full advantage of them.”

“Wasn't planning on it,” Keith says.

Shiro looks at a loss. “You really don’t plan on using your enhanced senses at all? For anything?”

“Would need a Guide for that,” Keith says. “And I'm not really interested in having people hang out near my head.”

Shiro tilts his head. “Aren't I here?”

“You're different,” Keith says plainly. “I'm not going to just partner up with any Guide just to make use of my senses. And bonding…”

“What about it?”

I wouldn’t want to bond with anyone but you.

“It’s not for me,” Keith says. “Can we stop talking about this?”

Shiro looks like Keith’s just lectured him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s fine.” Keith looks down at their hands. He hates being the one to put Shiro in a bad mood. “So. Are we going to try again?”

“If you don’t—” Shiro’s studying Keith’s face now, and whatever he sees there must make him change his mind about whatever he was going to say. “How about we move on from sight for now?” he says instead. “S5s usually start with it because it’s one of the hardest, but ideally you’d train each of your senses a little bit every day.”

“Okay,” Keith says. “What do you suggest we do next?”

“How about hearing?” Shiro says. “It’s also harder, but at least it’ll be downhill after that.”

Keith tries to smile. “Sure. How should we do this one?”

“Focus on my breathing,” Shiro says. “If you need something to keep your mind focused, you can count my breaths, silently. And same as before, use the feeling of my pulse to keep yourself grounded.”

Keith nods, and they start. One, two, three, four, five, six…

“You’re always so calm,” Keith says, once he gets to twenty-five and is feeling like this is going better than sight.

“Part of the job, I guess,” Shiro says with a light laugh. “If you can sense that I’m stressed, that’s only going to make you more stressed. It’s part of a Guide’s job to have as calm and even of a presence as we can, especially if we’re trying to pull you out of fugue. And especially if you’re fully-bonded, since Sentinels can sense when their Guides are in danger and it can make your senses get extra overloaded.”

“Is there, like, a class for this stuff?” Keith says. “Or do you just know all the Guide-things?”

“There’s Guide certification classes, if you want to be able to Guide on a professional level,” Shiro says. “I took them, since there was a demand for S-ranks.”

“And that’s where they taught you to be a statue?” Keith says.

“That’s where they taught me to focus,” Shiro says, squeezing his wrists again. “Like you should be doing.”

“Ha ha,” Keith says, but he falls silent again, refocusing his attention on Shiro’s breaths. They’re even and full, with barely a tremor in them. He hears the air moving through Shiro’s nose, and, if he listens closer, he can hear it fill his lungs, that same deep and even sound.

“You’re slipping,” Shiro says gently, and Keith pulls back, Shiro’s pulse pounding under his fingertips as his focus snaps back to Shiro’s dark eyes.

Shiro smiles. “I didn’t have to pull you out that time.”

“What?”

“I just spoke to you,” Shiro says. “Just as a reminder. You pulled out of it yourself.”

“Oh.” Maybe this practice is good for something, if he can pull himself out of slipping into fugue without relying on Shiro’s Guide abilities. “You didn’t pull me at all?”

“Not even a bit,” Shiro says. “Good work, Keith.”

It’s the most mundane of praise, but it’s praise from Shiro, and his voice is so warm that it makes Keith flush again. He’s suddenly very glad that Shiro can’t hear his heartbeat.

“What do you think?” Shiro says. “Do you want to try again?”

Keith squeezes his wrists this time. “Let’s go.”

When Coran finally sends a message that his latest attempts have been more successful, and he should have a trial ready soon, Keith thinks he should feel more relieved.

It’s good news. Or it’s supposed to be, anyway. It means he can get back to his life, and Shiro can get back to his.

But the thought of going back to experiencing the world through Absense after having spent the time learning how to experience it fully through Shiro—

This is why he hadn’t wanted to rely on a Guide in the first place.

This is why he hadn’t wanted to rely on Shiro in the first place.

Shiro comes out of the bathroom, takes one look at Keith, and says, “What’s going on?”

“Coran says the Absense will be ready soon,” he says, watching carefully for Shiro’s reaction.

He needn’t have bothered. Shiro still has a tamp on his senses, and without enhanced senses—and, to be honest, maybe even with—he isn’t able to pick up anything other than genuine happiness in Shiro’s smile.

“That’s great, Keith!” he says. “Do you know when?”

“Not sure,” Keith says, burying his face in his datapad again to hide his ridiculous and unnecessary disappointment at the fact that Shiro doesn’t seem to care that this is going to be the end of their… whatever this is. “Probably in another quintant or two.”

“Are you worried?” Shiro says. “I know we haven’t known Coran long, but he seems to know what he’s doing.”

“I know,” Keith says. “I’m not worried about that.”

“But you are worried about something?” Shiro says, and Keith remembers that Shiro had always been kind of like this, even back at the Garrison—giving Keith the opportunity to express his feelings and talk about things, even when they aren’t going well.

And he knows that, just like back then, if he says he doesn’t want to talk about it, then Shiro will drop the conversation, though it doesn’t mean that he’ll stop worrying.

If he wants to let Shiro go, he knows for sure that he can’t leave him worried.

“It’ll be weird to be on Absense again,” he finally says, the most truthful yet unrevealing thing that he can think to say. “I didn’t realize what it was like to just… feel.”

He chances a glance at Shiro. He’s still standing by the bathroom door, and he’s looking at Keith with an unreadable, soft expression. “You wouldn’t have to be on it all the time. I could help Guide you every now and then. Whenever you felt like it.”

Every now and then.

Keith swallows past the lump in his throat. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“Hey.” Shiro crosses the room and crouches down in front of him. “Is that really all that’s bothering you?”

“It’s nothing.” Keith stands, and Shiro scoots out of his way as he goes to his closet and starts shedding armor.

“I’m not going to push,” Shiro says, because he never does, “but I hope you know that I’m always here to listen to whatever you have to say.”

“I know.” Keith looks over his shoulder to give Shiro a weak smile. He looks so worried, and it’s all because Keith’s just being ridiculous about his own feelings. Shiro doesn’t deserve this. He turns back. “It really isn’t a big deal, though. Just not sure if there’s going to be other side effects to going on this version of Absense. Stuff like that. There isn’t really anything I can do about it.”

“I’ll stay with you until we’re sure it’s working,” Shiro says, coming up to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “And if something goes wrong, I’ll stay with you while Coran works on it again. You won’t have anything to worry about.”

“I know,” Keith says, and elbows him lightly. “That’s why I said it’s nothing. I’m sorry I keep taking up all your time with this, though.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Shiro says. “If you need help, I’m here.”

“I know,” Keith says again. “Thank you.”

Shiro will help him until he doesn’t need help anymore, and that’s going to be the end of it.

And that’s what Keith wants. That’s how it should be. He might want anything Shiro would offer, but he doesn’t want to need him. He wants to be able to stand on his own two feet. And if that means losing this bond with Shiro… then he’s just going to have to face reality.

Shiro’s only here because, without Absense, Keith isn’t able to function. Once Coran’s version of Absense is finished, Keith will be able to rely on that instead, and Shiro won’t need to spend all his time by Keith’s side anymore. That’s how it was. That’s how it should be.

And that’s fine.

As it turns out, Coran works fast. All too soon, Keith has the Coran-synthesized version of Absense in hand.

“So that’s it, huh?” Shiro says, studying the transparent blue capsule in Keith’s palm.

It’s more of a gelcap, not something that Keith can cut this time, but you shouldn’t need to do that anymore, should you, lad? Coran said when he handed over the small bottle.

“Would you be able to feel the difference?” Keith says. “If I took it while the bridge is still up?”

“Definitely,” Shiro says. “I’ll let you know as soon as I feel something.”

“Great,” Keith says, though he feels nothing but sadness as he looks down at the pill. He clears his throat before Shiro can notice to comment. “Here goes.”

When he takes the standard Absense, he usually starts feeling the effects within seconds as the prickling of his senses fades into dullness. He’s not sure he’ll feel it with Shiro here, but he does—he notices the exact moment that Shiro’s warmth beside him fades, and his steady breathing becomes less audible.

“I think it’s starting to work,” Shiro says into the silence.

“Yeah,” Keith says. He feels like his heart is caught in his throat.

“Keith!” Shiro holds him by both shoulders, face full of alarm. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Keith makes a questioning noise.

Shiro hesitates, then says, “You look like you’re about to cry.”

Shit, is he? Keith touches the bottoms of his eyes, swiping away the brimming of tears. “It’s just a lot, I guess. Sorry. I’m okay, though.”

Shiro studies him for a beat. “Okay,” he says quietly. “I’m going to start letting go.”

Keith nods.

At first he doesn’t feel anything change, but then, steadily, he feels Shiro’s presence retreating from where their minds are linked. It’s been so easy to forget that the mind-bridge existed in the first place—but now it feels like there’s something missing that should always have been there.

As the last of the mental link between them disappears, Keith’s left again in his dull, lonely world.

“Is it better?” Shiro says.

It’s not. It’s worse, in every way.

But that’s not what Shiro means by asking, so Keith smiles weakly and says, “Yeah. A lot better.”

“That’s great,” Shiro says warmly.

“Great,” Keith echoes, with all the enthusiasm he can muster, which isn’t much. He hopes Shiro will blame it on him acclimating to the desensitizing. “Yeah. It feels basically like the real thing.”

“Great,” Shiro says again.

They should get back out to join the team for breakfast now. There’s no point in them hanging around in Keith’s room now that they’re sure the Absense is working, but for some reason, Keith can’t get his feet to move.

Something about walking away from Shiro this time feels terrifyingly permanent.

“I’ll head out first then,” Shiro says, because he can do that now. Because they’re no longer trapped together now. “I’ll let everyone know you’ll catch up.”

Keith nods, and Shiro takes his leave.

It was never going to last.

That’s what Keith tells himself as he drags himself to the commons. It was never going to last, it was never meant to last, and there’s no use being upset about something that he’d already known would happen.

He still hasn’t managed to convince himself of it once he enters the kitchens, but at least there he has distractions.

“Well?” Coran says once he catches sight of Keith. “How is it?”

“Really good, Coran,” Keith says with a smile. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem!” Coran says. “I was concerned about it because of one particular component that seemed to—well, I won’t go into the details. I am glad that it appears to be a successful trial! Though perhaps to be safe we should stay on the ground for the next few quintants, eh?”

“Still?” Lance complains. “Aren’t we supposed to be practicing forming Voltron already?”

“If the Absense works through the next couple quintants, we’ll be able to get back to training with our Lions,” Shiro says from where he’s sitting with Allura on the far side of the table. Keith notices Shiro’s avoiding his gaze. “It’s a new medication, so we want to make sure it’s safe first.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lance says.

“It’s not like I planned this,” Keith snaps at him.

He doesn’t know how Lance has pissed him off so quickly, but he acknowledges that it probably isn’t all Lance. Part of it is definitely in the fact that the brilliant world he’d been experiencing is now muted again. And most of it—he looks over at Shiro again. Shiro doesn’t look back.

“Don’t let Lance get to you,” Pidge says. “He’s just embarrassed he’s been trying to sing his own praises about being S1 all over the place when you were an S5 all along.”

Keith grunts. “There’s nothing to be jealous of.”

“I’m not jealous!” Lance says, then deflates. “All right, fine, maybe I’m a little jealous. But only because it’s such a waste on you! Why aren’t you doing more with it? If I was an S5 I’d be a freaking superhero, man!”

“You’d need a Guide to do anything useful,” Keith says.

“Uh, you have a Guide,” Lance says, gesturing over to where Shiro and Allura are having their own conversation. “Hello?”

“Not my Guide,” Keith says. “He’s just helping out since he’s the only one who can. No offense, Hunk.”

“None taken,” Hunk says. “Love you, man, but I would not want to experience the brain of a S5.” He shudders. “Think we’d both get stuck in fugue if I tried.”

Lance is still looking dubiously between Keith and Shiro. “So the guy who’s been Guiding you all quintant, every quintant is not your Guide. Could’ve fooled me.”

“Stop being an ass,” Pidge says, catapulting goo at Lance’s nose. “If Keith doesn’t want to be Super-Sentinel that’s his own business.”

“I’m just saying—” Lance starts, and breaks off in a squeal as Pidge begins an all-out goo assault.

It’s enough noise to draw Allura and Shiro from their conversation, and Allura immediately comes over to investigate while Shiro shakes his head.

“Thanks,” Keith says to Pidge as they make their way over to the training room.

“No problem,” Pidge says. “Lance isn’t a bad guy, just obnoxious. And sometimes it’s just better to fight obnoxious with obnoxious.”

“I meant, you didn’t have to do that,” Keith says.

Pidge shrugs. “He shouldn’t have been giving you a hard time. Whatever you and Shiro get up to or not is your business.”

“I know that, but it’s not your business either,” Keith says.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m not asking, dude,” Pidge says.

Keith feels like he really isn’t explaining this well. “I meant—”

“I know what you meant,” Pidge says. “I think. Friends support friends. It’s not a whole deep thing.”

Somehow, that makes him think about Shiro, and his mood sours even more. “Right.”

He avoids Pidge’s questioning look and pushes his way into the training room. They’re just doing their stamina and strength training routines today. Shiro’s already working with Allura on the far side of the room. Keith tries to avoid paying them any attention.

He spends a good amount of time warming up on the treadmill, doing nothing but staring straight ahead. Everything in his body and mind is screaming that he misses Shiro—really, really misses him. Which is ridiculous, because Shiro is right there.

Keith runs faster.

Once he’s finished, he moves on to a series of ab exercises. He does them facing the wall so he isn’t tempted to look around, but that doesn’t stop him from picking up on Shiro’s voice, even from across the room.

Keith grits his teeth and ups the intensity, trying to distract himself enough so he won’t be tempted to tune in, but it’s hard. Even before all this started, all his senses have been drawn to Shiro. Now his mind’s reaching out for a connection that it won’t find.

He counts his exercises, focuses on his pace, tries to keep his attention on his own measured breaths and his heart pounding in his chest so it won’t catch on Shiro’s voice from across the room.

He fails.

He’s not really listening—wouldn’t be able to repeat what Shiro’s saying at all—but Keith can’t stop himself from letting the low, warm sound of Shiro’s voice wash over him. The little gravel he unthinkingly adds to certain words; the little variances in his tone that mark confidence, frustration, uncertainty—all of those are things that Keith’s learned to pick up on, and has been all but immersed in the past few quintants.

That and his breathing.

He misses hearing Shiro’s breathing, that reminder that Shiro was there beside him, supporting him. He closes his eyes and can feel it, the steady, deep in-out-in-out that never fails to calm him.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

He sinks into that calm, and into the steady heartbeat that accompanies it.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Then the heartbeat kicks up, as does the breathing. Keith frowns as he tracks it, not sure why they’ve shifted from their calm. Then, distantly, he hears—

Keith.

It’s distant enough that he’s not sure if he heard it or imagined it, but then he feels heat and pressure—ambiguous at first, but then the feeling solidifies, and it’s the pressure of hands cupping his face, and the firm press of a hard forehead against his.

Please. You can’t do this to me again.

Follow the sound of my voice. You can hear me, right? I know you can.

Please.

Come back to me, Keith.

Keith opens his eyes, and just as quickly falls into darkness.

Keith wakes with a horrendous, splitting headache. “Fuck.”

“Fuck is right,” Shiro says from right next to him, and Keith jumps. Shiro squeezes his hand. “How are you feeling?”

“Like a Lion stepped on my brain,” Keith grunts. “What happened?”

“The effects of Coran’s Absense has a fast drop-off, and the dosage was off,” Shiro says. “You crashed.”

“Oh.” That would explain why it feels like his entire head is ringing… but his senses aren’t overloaded. Now that he’s paying attention, it’s easy to find the reason why: the familiar presence of Shiro’s mind-bridge.

“God, Keith.” Shiro’s hand squeezes his again, tightly. “I was so worried about you.”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Keith says.

“It’s not a matter of if I have to or not, Keith,” Shiro says, gently but firmly. “I’m worried about you because I care about you, and every time you go into fugue—it’s terrifying. I hate seeing you like that.”

Keith bites his lip. There isn’t anything he can say to that. He hasn’t seen himself go into fugue, but he’s seen others before, and he agrees it can be scary to see someone zone out so much they go limp like a doll. And, if it weren’t for Shiro, he doesn’t know how anyone on the team would be able to snap him out of it.

“I—” Shiro breaks off, wets his lips, and starts again. “I know you don’t want to bond with me, but is the thought of that really worse than dealing with all of this?”

Keith frowns at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean all of this,” Shiro says, gesturing vaguely to all of Keith with his free hand. “Cutting your pills, going through these trials, risking yourself going into fugue over and over until we maybe figure out something that works.”

“I don’t have another option,” Keith says. “It’s not like we could go back to Earth for some extra Absense right now.”

“That’s what I mean,” Shiro says, letting go of Keith’s hand. “Am I not even an option for you? Has spending all of this time with me been that terrible that you’d rather put yourself through all of this?”

“That’s not it!” Keith grabs back for Shiro’s hand and holds onto it. “Shiro, that’s not it. I just…”

“You just what?”

Keith squeezes his eyes shut. “I don’t want to do this to you!”

“Keith, look at me,” Shiro says gently, and tugs at his hands until Keith reluctantly looks up and meets his gaze. He still looks frustrated, but his eyes are somehow soft at the same time. “What are you doing to me?”

“You know,” Keith whispers.

“Pretend I don’t,” Shiro says. “Because I really don’t.”

“I’m just another problem for you to solve,” Keith says. “You shouldn’t have to sign away the rest of your life to me just because you think I need you. That shouldn’t be how things work.”

“That isn’t—” Shiro looks heartbroken. “Keith, you’re not a problem to me.”

“Then what am I?”

“You’re Keith,” Shiro says firmly. “And I care about you.”

“Caring about me isn’t enough of a reason to want to—to bond with me,” Keith says.

“That feels like enough of a reason to me.”

Keith barely resists the urge to shake him. “It’s the rest of your life, Shiro!”

Shiro’s expression only softens more. “And there’s no one else I’d rather spend it with.”

That’s enough to stun Keith into silence. It takes an enormous amount of effort to get his mouth to move again to say, “You don’t mean that.”

“The mind-bridge,” Shiro says softly. “Can I?”

Keith’s not certain what he’s asking, but he nods anyway.

When he feels the surge of sweet affection, he gasps. Shiro’s lowering the shield on his side of their connection, the one he’s had up to keep his emotions from leaking through. Now Keith can feel it all—the honey-sweet warmth that surrounds him, wrapping around his being as tightly as one of Shiro’s hugs.

“I—” He looks up at Shiro. “Can you open mine, too?”

Shiro hesitates. “If you want me to.”

Keith nods, and looks at Shiro and thinks I love you I love you I love you.

Thoughts don’t really transmit through the bond, not in any concrete way, but emotions, impressions—those are all the things that he wants Shiro to feel, all the things that he didn’t think he could say, and wouldn’t even know how to if he could.

Shiro’s expression doesn’t change much, but his breath hitches, and he looks into Keith’s eyes with a soft, “Oh.”

“Oh,” Keith agrees.

Shiro laughs, a light, happy sound. “Keith—” He pulls him in for a real hug, arms wrapping firm around his back, and Keith throws his arms back around Shiro in response.

Everything feels so much, so Shiro—his scent, his warmth, the softness of his skin beneath Keith’s cheek. His heartbeat and breathing are a little faster than usual, and Keith delights in the fact that he can have this effect on Shiro. That Shiro is having this effect on him in return.

“Shiro,” Keith says.

“Keith,” Shiro says, and smiles. “Would you do me the honor of accepting my bond?”

Keith tucks his face into Shiro’s neck, his own smile wider than he can ever remember, and says, “I do.”

A little at a time
I feel more alive
I let the scale tip and feel all of it
It’s uncomfortable but right
We were born to try
To see each other through
To know and love ourselves and others well
Is the most difficult and meaningful
Work we’ll ever do

- nine — sleeping at last