"I was fifteen when you left and I have been fifteen ever since." With Keith sounds like a really interesting concept, can I know more?
OMG OF COURSE U CAN.
ok so obviously Keith is older than fifteen when Shiro leaves for Kerberos, but the sentiment remains the same. in this fic, Keith feels like all the progress he's made and all the good that's come out of his closeness with Shiro is undone.
in essence, without someone to keep him moving and improving, Keith feels stagnant, like he's no longer growing as a person. he's spent so much of his life convinced that he'll never amount to anything, and then the one person that was able to tell him otherwise disappears. he's not sure where to go from here, and so he doesn't go anywhere. he doesn't feel like he can.
this is just one of several post-kerb fics i have in my brain :)
(the concept in the ask is from my writing list! i love talking so if anyone is curious about anything else on there, asks are wide open <3)
Something stirs in the corner, a shade that barely takes form, and Shiro moves on him in a fluid lunge, muddled from sleep but wrapping the polymer of his mechanical fingers around the shadow’s throat on an instinct distilled in him through countless fights. He doesn’t crush the fragile breathing tube quivering under his grip but exerts just enough pressure to make it seem like he might. He doesn’t relish killing, but he won’t hesitate to squeeze the breath out of this stranger to save his life. They will not defeat him again. Not now, when he’s close to his goal he can taste it in the arid desert air. The shadow squirms and wheezes, voice thready, but it filters into Shiro’s confused brain and triggers an emotional response.
“Shi-Shiro. It’s Keith.”
Shiro’s hold slackens as a horrible understanding crashes into him.
Keith.
He’s almost injured Keith.
The one person who matters more than anything in this world, this universe, this reality. The bright light that has guided him home.
Shiro’s knees buckle, and he slumps down like a marionette with its strings cut. In an instant, Keith shifts and kneels next to him, putting a hesitant hand on Shiro’s flesh shoulder. He’s glad Keith’s not touching the prosthesis. Most days, he wants to rip the thing off and leave it in the dust, sickened by the artificial reminder of his captivity, but he knows that a soldier can’t afford to give up a fighting advantage, so he keeps the artificial arm and holds his disgust in check.
“Takashi, it’s me. You’re safe. Do you—do you remember me?” Keith’s voice breaks on the last question. He doesn’t sound like the cheeky cadet that loved teasing Shiro at all. Clearly, Shiro’s not the only one transformed by his year-long absence.
“Say something. Please.”
Shiro knows he should keep his hands off Keith, that he deserves better, not this broken half-monster he’s become in order to survive, but he’s pathetic and weak and desperate to touch, so he enfolds Keith in a hug and buries his head in the crook of Keith’s neck, inhaling the sweet smell of spicy chocolate. A rational fragment of his mind running in the background notices that Keith doesn’t resist and sinks into the embrace willingly. Tears of gratitude burn a path down his cheeks and fall into this lap with a splash louder than a clap of thunder.
“Takashi,” Keith whispers and brushes the dampness away. His hand is warm and soft and tender. No one has touched Shiro with tenderness in a year, and the gesture only unravels his loosely stitched soul further. The silence between them swells, unpleasant and ready to burst, until Shiro clears his throat once, twice, three times to spur his half-atrophied vocal cords into working.
Shiro wakes up, expecting to see the dark walls of his cell, or a Garrison hospital. Instead, Keith’s there, and he realises he’s home.
Of all the things Shiro expected to see when he woke up, it wasn’t this. He had been expecting the cold, darkness of his cell, battered and bruised from… he wasn’t even sure why he woke up like that sometimes. Right now, however, he woke up somewhere completely different. He hadn’t seen a place like this since… heck, how long has he been gone?
Blinking open his eyes, he looked around himself to discover he was laying in a rickety bed in some sort of a shack. A beaten up ceiling fan was blowing air around the room. It wasn’t doing much, but it meant so much to him at that moment because of how much it reminded him of home. This whole place looked so much like a shack you’d see on… on Earth.
It was as if everything came back to him, yet nothing at all. He could pick up bits and pieces, but those pieces were shattered and broken and mixed up. But he found himself only caring about one thing: he escaped. Somehow in his forgotten miracle, he'd escaped from the mind-numbing depths of the prison. But that didn’t exactly explain how he was in a bedroom somewhere in a beaten shack and not in the infirmary of the Galaxy Garrison.
That’s when he noticed a figure slumped in a nearby chair. He flinched at first. Was this an illusion? Did one of those aliens trick him into a false sense of security? Those fears were instantly diminished.
He knew who this was. He wasn’t a threat.
Keith was sitting in a dusty green chair, his eyes closed, head resting against the wall behind him. His chest moved before Shiro could worry about his stillness. The relief at seeing a familiar face hit him so hard, it was almost painful. His chest hurt, and he felt his eyes burn. Keith was here. Somehow, he’d found him. Keith, who he hadn’t seen in so, so long, was right there. A few footsteps away, closer than he’d ever been in such a long time.
He felt himself get choked up at the way Keith’s arms were crossed over his chest, even as he slept. That’s when he decided that the prison had really messed him up. Or maybe it was the side effects of the anaesthesia the Garrison had given him.
Okay. Pull yourself together. No crying. You’re most likely still somewhere in your twenties; you can do this.
Instead, he trained his eyes somewhere else. Watching Keith was way too emotional now. He looked around at the shack. It was a little banged up and dusty, but strangely, it also gave off a homey aroma. He tried to sit up, realising he was still in that godforsaken prisoner outfit. He couldn’t wait to get out of these sad excuses for clothes.
When he finally made it into a sitting position, he heard a strange machine-like sound next to him. He lifted his right arm. He’d almost forgotten… the cyborg prosthetic arm was still there as if mocking him. Even if he got a new pair of clothes, rid the prisoner clothes for good, this piece of machinery would still be there. It was always going to remind him of what had happened to him…
The worst part was that he wasn’t entirely sure of why or how he got it.
No, scratch that. The worst part was that he didn’t know where Sam and Matt were… what even happened to them? Were they even still alive? Before he could berate himself for thinking so negatively, he heard a familiar voice.
“Shiro?”
He looked over to where Keith was starting to stand up. He sounded just the same as the last time he’d seen him at the Kerberos launch; he even looked kind of the same, his hair just a little longer. It couldn’t have been that long since he was gone then.
“Keith.” He managed to say it without his words shaking.
The teen stood awkwardly near his bed, lowering his indigo eyes to the ground. A few seconds ticked by, the awkward silence hung heavily in the air. Before Shiro could figure out what to say, Keith spoke up.
“How-how are you feeling?”
He considered the question, leaning back against the wall of the bed. He didn’t need to bother Keith too much with his hazy, confused thoughts right now... maybe after he got a little fresh air, he’ll be okay again. “I’ll be fine,” He finally answered. He looked back up at Keith’s face, noticing the way it was carefully guarded, not showing too much emotion than what was necessary.
Keith cleared his throat, “Well, I’ve got some clothes for you to put on.” He walked towards a table across the room to retrieve it, “I hope it fits. Used to belong to my Dad. We’re in his shack right now, actually.”
Keith handed the clothes over to Shiro but didn’t leave yet, just staring down at the bed covers, his face unchanging. Shiro knew that face well. He spent a long time trying to get Keith to stop hiding like that. Keith was always trying to be strong, keeping his emotions at bay. It worked well in some situations, of course, but he didn't have to keep it up 24/7. Shiro hesitated slightly before placing his human hand on Keith’s elbow.
Keith looked at him, barely hiding his surprise. Shiro had so many questions he wanted to ask. How Keith knew he crashed on Earth, why they were in Keith and his Dad’s old shack, how he managed to break Shiro out of the Garrison. But none of that mattered right now.
“Thank you, Keith.”
A smile made itself known on Keith’s face, making Shiro’s chest tighten. He didn’t realise exactly how much he’d missed Keith until now.
“Anytime,” Keith said. After a while, he moved toward the door, “I’ll bring you something to eat. While I’m gone, I suggest you get dressed. We’re burning the other outfit.”
Shiro allowed himself a laugh, “Will do,” He said.
The door closed behind Keith.
Shiro closed his eyes as he leaned against the wall again. He was home… back on Earth. The Garrison didn’t listen to his warnings, but they could figure something out. Now that he had Keith back, they could figure out how to stop the aliens from invading Earth. With that motivating thought, he got up from the bed.
He was glad to note that he was able to stand up and walk around, meaning the anaesthesia didn’t affect him too badly.
He dressed in the new pair of clothes, trying to ignore all of the horrible scars revealing themselves. He didn’t remember when he got all of them or how, although he had an idea from the flashes of a fighting ring. He got dressed in the new clothes (which fit him perfectly) before throwing the prisoner outfit at the end of the bed.
He considered to go looking for Keith but decided against it. He didn’t know his way around the shack and would probably just wander in circles. He sat in the bedroom to collect his thoughts instead.
That’s when it hit him hard. He was back on Earth… he’d survived. He made it out. A ghost of a smile came onto his face, but it didn’t feel like one for relief or that he was happy. Instead, it felt empty. Like some part of him died on that alien ship, but he didn't know what it might've been.
He sighed, trying to breathe evenly before he started to hyperventilate.
I made it, he told himself. I got out. That’s all that matters now.
He heard a knock on the door as he finally felt in control of himself again. He answered, and Keith walked into the room, a bowl of soup in his hands. Keith couldn’t stay long in the room, briefly telling Shiro that there were other three cadets with him and they needed help with a toaster or something. The other three had helped Keith save him from the Garrison hospital, and they were all on the run now.
Shiro decided not to say too much about that. He’d learned long ago that Keith could get in the strangest shenanigans, especially after Matt Holt and he became roommates. It felt good, though. He enjoyed being able to speak to Keith again, even just for a short while. But he felt like he needed the silence after Keith left, trying to eat as much as he could.
Unfortunately, getting abducted by aliens, locked up as a prisoner in a ship for an extended period, somehow escaping, crashing onto earth, put under by Garrison officials and waking up in a shack once belonging to his adopted younger brother’s late father didn’t seem to agree with him.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Adam & Shiro (Voltron)
Characters: Adam (Voltron), Keith (Voltron)
Additional Tags: Garrison days, Grief, Post-Kerberos, Dealing with Shiro's loss, Sad, Angst, Past Adam/Shiro - Freeform, S07 Spoilers
Series: Part 17 of Fictober 2018
Summary:
#Fictober18 Day 17
Prompt: "I'll Tell You But You're Not Going to Like it."
Voltron Fanfiction. S07 spoilers. Angst.
Keith pov, Garrison Days, Post-Adam/Shiro split, Post-Kerberos
Rating: T- some language, discussion of same sex relationship, mentions of foster care, death, illness, broken homes, grief.
The words haunt him. He refuses to believe that if anything happened to the Garrison crew, it was Shiro’s fault. Keith knows in his heart that Shiro would never be the reason for the Kerberos Mission crew’s death.
If they’re dead.
He would feel it, Keith thinks, if Shiro were dead. He’s still out there somewhere, but the not knowing tears Keith apart nonetheless. At least the weekly updates from the Garrison confirmed Shiro was okay, but now, Keith doesn’t know what state the man could be in. He just knows Shiro isn’t dead. He can’t be.
Iverson acts sketchy when Keith brings it up to him. He won’t say anything other than repeating the Garrison’s official report verbatim, insisting it was a pilot error and all communications were lost, crew dead. He won’t look Keith in the eye, though, and when Keith presses him for further information, he tries to send him away. Keith is having none of it. Iverson knows something, something he’s purposely keeping from Keith, and if it has to do with Shiro’s life, Keith is going to find out.
He punches Iverson in his anger, gets himself kicked out of the Garrison. Shiro would be disappointed in him, but Shiro isn’t here, and that’s the real problem.
Days go by. Keith follows his gut instinct to a little shack in the desert, taking the hoverbike that Shiro left for him, trying to find anything, anything at all.
Weeks. No word from the Garrison about the Kerberos Mission, not even an attempt to restart the program. It’s as if the mission never existed. Keith keeps searching.
Months. He’s desperate. The ache in his chest is almost unbearable. More time has passed since the words “pilot error” flashed across every television screen in the nation than the entire Kerberos Mission lasted in the first place. He doesn’t want to admit it, but some part of him has begun to whisper that he should just give up and accept what he’s been told. Still, he refuses to.
A year. A year, just as the markings seemed to predict, and the meteor crashing down to Earth isn’t a meteor at all but a ship. Keith is ready. He’s prepared for this, whatever this is.
When he gets past the Garrison’s security guards and the men in hazmat suits, he isn’t prepared. He isn’t prepared to find that it’s Shiro strapped down to the table, with a scar across his nose and a flash of white hair and a metal arm, even if he had dared to let himself hope for just a moment that this prophesied crash landing might have something to do with Shiro’s disappearance. He isn’t prepared, but Keith isn’t letting Shiro go this time.
~~~
Shiro’s back. Just like before, Keith knows he was never truly gone, but now, Shiro is here, in his arms again, and everything is right where it should be.
The war isn’t over. Lotor could still be out there, and the Galra factions are still fighting over whatever remains of the Empire. Keith knows this, but right now, all he cares about is that Shiro is safe.
All those months that the man spent in the astral plane and no one really knew. All those months that Keith had spoken to him in Black without realizing it, had felt his presence even in his absence. It only serves to remind him of his time alone in the desert, when he had known Shiro was still out there, even without proof. Keith has found him now, just like he did then, and this time, even if Shiro was never truly gone, Keith is going to do everything it takes to make sure he never loses Shiro again.
Shiro’s life had ended, up amongst the stars that he had dedicated it to. It had been dashed across the surface of a moon that could offer them nothing more than rocks and ice. Keith had seen the evidence for himself, etched on the crust like a memorial.
Shiro was dead.
So why was he sitting beside the Galran emperor?
***
Decided to share my passion project as I write it. Because I couldn’t help myself. And also I suspect I kinda hate myself XD I’ll be posting it exclusively on AO3!
I… I’m… I don’t know what happened here. I got way too into this… Dark flower imagery is legit one of my favorite things to do so… yeah. Here’s some post-kerberos sheith.
Flowers.
Keith had a dream once of flowers that bloomed in the desert.
Alone and arrant in their colors, he saw them force their way up from the ground, up through a ribcage he had once called his own. Their roots embedded in bone and marrow, gripped it tightly as their petals dripped red with blood Keith had never meant shed.
He dreamt they anchored him down into the dirt - bound his body in earth and vine until he could no longer breathe. There were blossoms of forget-me-nots that lived at the tips of his fingers, and they withered and died if he dared reach up to the sky in need.
Stark-black zinnias burgeoned from his eyes, and gladioli sprouted from the ends of his eyelashes, and although they were beautiful, he could no longer see. White lillies sprung from the flesh of his tongue, filled his mouth with the taste of perfume and death.
Go, be great., the desert would tell him.
And he ached to promise that he would, but hadn’t the heart to admit he could no longer speak.
send me one word and a ship, and i’ll write a ficlet
