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The kaleidoscope had helped in a pinch. But there were days where Keith would try to cheer himself up by looking through the lens and the only color he could see was gray. Coran had meant well with offering to help him through these episodes, but it still didn't feel like it would ever be enough to fix him. He was lost in the depressive sea and there wasn't any sign of a rescue in sight.
Every time he thought the day would be good to him when he'd crawl out of bed, something would happen to try and prove him wrong. There were days where Keith persisted and fought through the crashing torrents of depression. The clawed hands that tried to drag him back down would scratch the surface of his skin, but its grip was weak and couldn't grab hold of him. At least, most of the time it wasn't strong enough. There were still those days where it dragged him under and he started to suffocate all over again.
But even though the kaleidoscope had helped, it still only was able to take the very edge off. It only worked for so long before Keith became numb to its help as well. Coran's insistence that Keith look through it for five minutes before he'd do anything drastic always ran laps around his mind. He never knew how much he just wanted to quit everything until now.
For what was the point in living if he was going to be stuck in this mental hell of nothing but anguish and upset? Why bother living if he didn't have a reason to get out of bed most mornings? Was it because he knew it'd be selfish to kill himself and leave his hurt in the universe for his friends and family to deal with after he’s gone? Or was it that he was stubborn and wanted to try his very best to see if things would ever get better?
Staring down at the kaleidoscope in his hand made him tired. He had the sheet of colors—with its swirls and oblong shapes to send him on a colorful journey every time he was feeling down. But all he could see with his eyes and feel under his skin was a dull wash of gray. Nothing but gray and an endless stream of questioning his very existence.
Before his mind could feed more cruelty to him—to get him to try and commit something he'll wind up regretting—a chipper man waltzed into the room and sat down next to him. Coran was always smiling and his Altean accent could never be regarded with a frown. Keith tried to give him a smile back, but it hurt to show a lie on his face to someone so kind.
Coran's eyes turned gentle and he wrapped a caring arm around Keith's shoulder. Giving him a reassuring squeeze, he pulled him in close until they were sat hip to hip.
“I can see it on your face, lad,” he started. “I know it's hard to feel better when you've been stuck in a pit for so long. You're probably tired of everyone always telling you it’ll get better and they'll be there for you for when you need it. I just hope you're at least still using the kaleidoscope to calm yourself down.”
“But it's never enough,” Keith said, feeling his voice crack. When was the last time he's used it other than to let out choked sobs? He swallowed bile that formed in the back of his throat, and tried to add a voice to his defeat. “I don't know how much more I can take feeling this way. Everything hurts all the time and I'm so close to just calling it. I don't know what I should do.”
“Keith.” Coran looped his other arm around Keith's front and locked both of his hands together. Hugging him close, Coran didn’t dare let go for fear Keith might fall apart and crumble into a fine pile of stardust. Coran spoke softly into Keith's hair after a quiet spell. “You're hurting and struggling. But you're not alone with this. The paladins and Princess Allura will always be here for you. I'm here for you.” Coran leaned back so he could look Keith in the eyes. When they both looked at each other, Keith only wanted to cry to let these feelings out. “I don't want to lose you. We're all a family, and family always helps family to feel better.”
Looking away from him, Keith grimaced and wrapped his arms around himself. He didn’t know what to do other than realizing he wanted to go back to bed. He was stuck in a mindset that if he could get the day over with by sleeping until morning, then he could try and start over anew.
This day launched him into the wrong sort of mindset, unfortunately. He was stuck with vile thoughts that abused his mind until he struggled to tell if these feelings were real or only manifestations of his own frustration. Hoping it was only a phase that would disappear after some rest, Keith decided it would be better than him going back to sleep rather than sit around and wait for his mind to turn even more harrowing.
Squirming out of Coran’s embrace, Keith sighed as he stood up on tired legs. His entire body ached from feeling numb for so long. If sleep came easily to him today maybe he’ll feel a little better whenever morning came around. He didn’t know the time and he just hoped that it would be a reasonable time to be done with today so he can start looking forward to tomorrow.
He told Coran he was going to head off to bed and handed him the kaleidoscope and the colored paper. Coran only sat there and his eyes stayed on him as he tried to take his leave for now. But the older man’s sudden voice stopped him, and though he wasn’t facing Coran, Keith still pinched his eyebrows together and made sure he didn’t break down yet.
“Keith?” Coran cleared his throat and it sounded like he had pushed himself up from his seat. Shoes clacked on the gray floor of the quiet lounge as the man approached him and stayed a respective distance away. “If you’re going to be going to your room, I suggest that you leave your blade with me for now. I, uh— I don’t . . . Look, lad, I don’t want to run the risk of leaving you alone for too long. And since you have a blade with you at all times—”
“Coran.” Keith spun on a heel and dove a hand back behind himself. He quirked up a corner of his lips in a partial smile as he pulled his luxite blade out from its sheath. To be honest, he had actually forgotten he had such a weapon on him all the time. It’s almost like a part of his own body now since he’s always had it with him. But he knew where Coran was going with saying that. He’s asked for him to relinquish his blade into his possession a few times in the past, so it wasn’t an unexpected request.
Keith couldn’t stomach staring at his despondent reflection in the blade. It would only add fuel to the fire that burned within him. And he didn’t even trust himself to be alone with a weapon right now.
Neither of them said a word as he held out the blade to Coran—pointing the handle in his direction to take. Once Coran’s hand took hold of it, Keith carefully released it. Out of everyone on the Castleship—excluding Shiro—Keith trusted Coran the most with his prized belonging. It was his only link to his past and he couldn’t imagine ever being separated from it for long. If anyone had to keep it away from him to ensure his own safety, he was glad it had to be Coran.
“You know,” Coran started. He raised a peculiar eyebrow up at Keith as he lowered the hand that held the blade down to his side. With the other hand clutching the kaleidoscope close to his chest, Keith let out a short breath before the man went on. “If I had to offer you any advice, it would be that holing yourself up in your room is something you probably shouldn’t do right now. I think it could do you some good to spend some time with someone. Maybe you could talk about something together to slowly ease yourself back into a routine of engaging with the others?”
If he truly believed it might help, then Keith would take him up on that suggestion. He may have spent too much time alone and he doesn’t really recall having a decent conversation with anyone other than Coran. Unless a short “hi, how are you doing?” in passing counted? Keith doubted it and wanted nothing more than to talk with one of his fellow paladins. Out of everyone, he had missed Shiro the most. They’ve been close for so long and if he could just get himself to endure some small talk about anything, maybe he could feel a little bit better.
It always hurt when he would try to go to bed or disappear from the group for a while and Coran would ask for his blade. Sure, he understood
why
he would rather Keith not be alone with it. And he’s never dared try to let these horrifically tempting thoughts get the better of him to where he would risk acting upon them with careless abandon. It’s unfortunately crossed his mind a few times—wondering what it would feel like to dig the tip of the blade down the center of his wrist and start slicing toward the crease of his elbow.
He knew that the sharper the blade would be, the less painful the puncture would feel. Or, that’s what he’s come to believe at least. A dull knife would rip and tear skin to leave it an abhorrent mess of tattered flesh and dripping blood. But if it was sharp and fine like his luxite, then it wouldn’t hurt as much and the stream of blood would flow like a red waterfall.
All of that red would look so beautiful as it pooled to the floor. He could imagine laughing quietly to himself as he’d watch it swirl in a puddle. How he’d try to move his arm around above the floor to try and spell out words. Even the idea of staring at the red blood spilling from his arm as he spelled out his name in calligraphic letters seemed ominously appealing. Almost as if it were a hypnotic spell he never knew he wanted to try until now. If only he had a knife . . .
Keith’s eyes widened and he blinked at himself. How long had he been standing here? Not saying anything?
Thinking those horrible thoughts?
He gave Coran a short dismissive nod before spinning back around on his heels and leaving. Once he strolled through the door and heard it shut behind him, he stopped in his tracks and felt how his heart hammered in his chest. Weary eyes glanced around the hallway of everyone’s bedroom doors. Walking up to the right wall, Keith leaned his back against the wall and closed his eyes.
How could he even dare let himself think about something so sinful? He never considered himself to be suicidal in the slightest. Everyone had these wicked thoughts that plagued their minds from time to time. He was certain people have wondered what death would feel like. Did it feel like a promise of nothingness? No pain, no thoughts, no suffering. It was just . . . no more existence. A blissful nothing.
The more he let himself think about it, the more tempting it appeared. Like it was offering a hand out to give him an escape from this cursed mind of his. But he wasn’t blind to the obvious wolf dressed in sheep’s clothing. His eyes worked fine still and he glared at the imaginary hand held out to him that wanted him to end it all. He knew it wasn’t right to take his own life or to physically harm himself. He didn’t need nor want the attention it would attract. But sometimes the mental harm of even thinking these thoughts could drive one mad into taking action due to curiosity that oftentimes killed.
Opening his eyes to the gray emptiness in the hallway, Keith felt his chest shudder when he tried to fill his lungs with air. Uncertainty told him to stay leaning against the wall or else he might collapse under his own weight. But persistence refuted that by telling him he needed to get to someone—to Shiro or else he might not make it at all. He needed Shiro more than ever. Keith just prayed that Shiro would let him in and maybe they could just hang out together. Until these thoughts subsided and he was sure he wouldn’t fall victim to his own hands.
But to be trapped alone with his thoughts for too long would only drive him off the deep end. He couldn’t risk letting any more disgusting ideas plant themselves in his mind to fuel this downward spiral. Keith needed a way out of this sadness. He didn’t want a reason to dive further down the hole to die at the bottom of the abyss. Right now he saw Shiro as the rope that’s been cast down the hole he’s currently stuck in to slowly drag him back out.
Feeling his chest cave in at a breath, Keith nodded to himself before pushing off the wall. Knees buckling as he stumbled his way down the hall until he reached Shiro’s door, he curled his hand into a fist to beat it repeatedly against the door. His hand was erratic as he hammered again in three fast bursts. Ears finely tuned into the quietness of the hall, he tried once again and was met with no response.
Lifting a leg so he stood on the ball of one foot, Keith’s leg started shaking under his weight. How long had it been since he’s even spent time with Shiro? Did he even want to see Keith right now? Was he a burden to him because Keith had been pushing everyone away all the time, and now that he needed him, Keith had sought him out? His eyes widened in fear when he thought that maybe Shiro realized Keith was using him right now to escape his mind. What if Shiro was giving him the cold shoulder and was actively trying to ignore his knocking. Thinking if he ignored him long enough, Keith would just walk away and leave him alone.
A cold shiver ran up the length of his back and it grabbed him by the neck. Shoulders hunched up at his ears, Keith’s head shook as he slowly turned his gaze down toward the hall he had just walked through. The gray walls, floor, and ceiling were all monochromatically dull. Everything about the hallway was empty and bland. But the long white overhead lights that ran down the length of the hall looked like they were flickering near the door that lead into the lounge at the other end.
With his hand still held into a fist and resting on the metal door to Shiro’s room, Keith stared as he imagined the lights shutting down to reveal the darkness at the end of the hall. An amalgamation of a black mass began to form on the wall he had been leaning against a moment ago. Vicious claw-like fingers scraped their way out of the mass and started to pull themselves closer and closer toward him. Seeking, searching,
preying.
Those large hands haunted his dreams when he slept. Every time he would finally fall asleep, something dark and vicious lurking in the corners would take form to torture him within his own mind. Whatever it was, it wasn’t in the least bit friendly. It wanted him to submit to this endless song and dance of sadness. To fall victim to the temptation of death and nothingness like it was waiting for him to finally accept its awaiting hand. Those hands . . . so awful, and yet, so familiar.
He couldn’t remember how to breathe. His throat shut tight as he tried to force air into his lungs, but he was stuck staring as two hands both slammed palm first into the ground. It even looked like the sharp nails dug into the hard surface of the floor to spear it open. Each time it advanced closer to him, those cracks widened and stretched out to try and trap him. The hands weren’t attached to anything. It was just two hands making its way to where he was standing pitifully in front of Shiro’s door.
It wanted him and it wasn’t going to back down so easily. It had been stalking him for so long and it was only held back every time he tried to stay happy or looked through Coran’s kaleidoscope. But since he didn’t have the kaleidoscope with him right now, he was defenseless and all alone. Keith felt tears fall from the outer corners of his eyes when he realized he was going to die here. He didn’t mean to think those grim thoughts about death and suicide. If he’d had known tormenting himself with such thoughts would create something that was seeking to do the job for him, he never would have imagined it. He wanted nothing more than to take it all back. To pretend it never happened.
But the hands didn’t stop clawing their way toward him. In its wake, it had left an endless hole that twisted and warped the hallway to split open into a dark fissure. As the cracks grew larger and made its way closer to him, he feared he would fall in before the hands could reach him. Tears streamed down his face and followed a line down toward the point of his chin. The tears fell to collect into the fabric of his shirt.
Forcing his eyes away from the approaching doom, he stared helplessly at Shiro’s bedroom door. His fist still waited there to bang on it again. Keith couldn’t control his sobs as he tried one last time to knock on the door; softly this time and slower than before. Knees bending as he felt himself being dragged down to the floor from his own weight, Keith waited for an answer. For anything. For a sign of hope that someone would be able to help him in this time of desperation.
Looking back again toward the hall, his face pinched and twisted as the hands grew in size as they closed in on him. Sharp talons curled into the floor and left gaping holes as it pushed forward. The entire hallway was close to falling apart and he was left with nothing but the realization he didn’t want to die to something so heinous. This thought that had been brewing in the back of his mind for so long had finally taken a physical form and it was ready to collect and drag him forever under. To take him away from everything he never realized he had once loved.
Sunk down to the floor on his knees, Keith didn’t know what else he could do. He didn't want to let both of those awful hands squeeze him tight until he couldn’t breathe. To haul him far away from the living world and forcing all of the color out of him.
But what else could he do? He couldn’t fight this manifestation he had unknowingly birthed into existence. Rather than watch and wait for those claws to make their way to him, Keith tore his eyes away to stare at his lap helplessly. Bracing both hands on either side of his head, his entire body trembled from fear as he waited for his own demise to snuff out his flame. He didn’t want to die, but he couldn’t shake the horror from his mind that had been growing there for so long. Keith had no idea how long this had been going on before he finally succumbed to the pressure he’d put himself through without proper treatment.
Heart racing in his fragile body, and holding onto his last string of hope before it was snipped into oblivion, he squeezed his eyes closed and tensed up. Any second now, those hands will close the distance between them and the ground will fall all around the hallway. He’ll fall in and he’ll let whatever nothingness at the bottom break him into a million, irreparable fractured pieces.
As everything around him intensified when the hands must have finally reached him, Keith’s breath was caught in his throat. He couldn’t breathe or get his mouth to work. It was as if his tongue had swelled up and blocked his throat to prevent air from escaping and entering his lungs. Was this the first stage of submission to death? A loss of breath? He blinked warily at how he sat on the floor on his knees. With his hands still cradling his head, Keith slowly let his eyes glance up to see what progress the depressive hands that came to steal his life away had made.
He prepared himself to look at two large hands looming over him and making grabbing motions to snatch him away. But when he looked around the empty hallway, it was perfectly fine now. The walls were still gray and the floor was smooth like linoleum. The fissures were gone and so were the hands. Even the mass at the other end of the hall had vanished when he had finally looked away from it.
His throat was still preventing him from getting in a decent breath, but at least he’s been given a moment to collect himself. He wanted nothing more than to crawl in bed and hide underneath his blankets and curl up flush against the wall. He didn’t have anything in his room that could be considered a tool he could use to hurt himself. Unless maybe his boots counted if he undid the laces to create a faux rope? Even then, he would never dare try such a thing! There wasn’t a lot of stuff in his room since he never bothered considering that small space his own home. Less stuff meant a lesser chance of him using anything to hurt himself. His only weapon and personal possession was with Coran right now. So he believed he was safe . . .
Lowering his arms, Keith was about to finally take a deep inhale through his nose now that his throat was starting to relax, but seeing the darkness covering his arms made it seize up again. Fingers splayed and stretched wide apart from each other with ominously sharp fingernails, Keith’s mouth fell open and a short, high-pitched squeak was all that came out. Both hands were covered in that swarming horror of thoughts that had grown into something real and terrifying.
Holding both arms out and away from his body out of fear, he watched as the darkness seemed to ooze down the length of his arms until it creeped underneath the sleeves of his shirt. It was encompassing him slowly; consuming him. Tearing him apart from the inside and out. An awful urge told him this would all end if he just wrapped his claws—no, his
hands
—around his neck and gave it a tight squeeze. He’ll suffocate, but at least he’d be able to finally feel nothing. It gave him the promise of being able to see all the colors he wanted before the black would take over his vision.
If he didn’t listen to the whispers in his head to do it, then he wasn’t going to feel better. He
had
to comply or else this darkness wasn’t going to let up until it could have him. It only wanted him. It didn’t want to take any of his friends or his found family; it wanted Keith. All he had to do was cross his hands over each other, press both thumbs into the hollow of his throat to push on his windpipe, and squeeze the sides with his fingers.
He could be free from all of this. No more depression. No one would worry about him anymore since he wasn’t going to be a problem for anyone anymore. If he could just do as he was told then he was going to feel great in due time. He could be happy again. Everything would be so much better for him and no one would even miss him. They wanted him to be happy and now that he had a way of finally achieving happiness . . . he could then relax and find peace. He just had to squeeze.
Unsure if this way was his only way out, Keith calmed down enough to tell himself everything was going to be all right. He took in a final breath before following those carefully laid out instructions. Still sitting on the floor on his knees, Keith closed his eyes and crossed his wrists in front of each other across his chest. Raising his hands up toward his neck, he felt both pads of his thumbs touch the soft skin below his Adam’s apple. The bob of it forced a shiver to run down his spine that left him second-guessing.
Before he could question his own action for why he was doing this, the darkness whispered in his head that everything would be all right soon. Everything was going to be better once he got this over with. It might hurt at first, but he won’t be stuck in this endless cycle of depression that’s only temporarily cured whenever he looked through a kaleidoscope. The idea of not being able to feel pain or hurt anymore was so pleasing that he just knew he had to have it.
Dark voices in his head curled around him like a soft blanket. He listened to it as it spoke tender words to him. He couldn’t be sure if it was one or more voices, but it spoke as if it was reminding him of something he never thought about considering before.
“The only way
you’ll
ever amount to anything is if
you
let this happen.”
“Everyone will love
you
forever and will remember the good times they’ve had with
you
if
you
leave this world now.”
“
Your
friends all care about
your
well-being. If
you’re
upset in this life, why not end it and start anew?”
“
You’ll
finally be accepted by everyone by leaving behind the legacy
you’ve
already set for
yourself
.”
Keith nodded and agreed. The corner of his lips curled up just slightly, and he made sure his fingers on both hands had a firm grasp around either side of his neck. His hands shook when he swallowed down a thought of guilt. The darkness inside him made him ignore that guilt like it was a burden on his very being. That it wasn’t worth his time of day to listen to such
lies
and that he was going to be great on a whole different level very soon.
He liked the sound of that. He wanted this more than ever now. Whatever he had told himself about not wanting to die fell on deaf ears now. If this was his way of escaping, then so be it. All he ever wanted was to be happy. And if this was his only way, then he’ll gladly let himself fall to his own hands.
Giving gentle pressure to his throat, Keith already felt his breathing deepen to take in more air. He wasn’t going to need to breathe anymore where he was going. Blissful nothing sounded like a beautiful promise. He pushed in his thumbs farther until it hurt and he could feel his blood pulsing beneath the skin. He won’t have to deal with any of this anymore if he just . . . gave . . . in . . .
Pressing harder into his throat, Keith kept his eyes closed but still rolled them back into his head. Freedom was just a few breaths away from him and all he had to do was listen. Little twinkling stars glowed under his eyelids and he had to admit it was a wonderful thing to distract himself. His heart slowed down when he realized holding his breath seemed to help keep him from thinking he wasn’t getting enough air. It hurt, but it was a good feeling. A feeling that gave him a sense of freedom that was on another plane of existence.
He bit his bottom lip when the faint sound of something opening at the other end of the hall tried to distract him. Keith wasn’t going to let a noise keep him from his happiness. All he had to do was keep his hands in place and try to let the world shut down around him. Like the darkness had told him: all of the color in the world could be his if he let this happen.
“
Keith!
”
Eyes still closed, he ignored whoever was calling for him. He was so close from being gone forever. He didn’t want to hear about how much they really cared for him. Keith knew he was most likely a burden in life and everyone would be better off if he were dead. At least they’d have the fond memories they had of him to remember him by.
“Keith, stop doing this to yourself!”
Two hands found themselves on Keith’s shoulders to violently shake him out of his focus. Eyes opening wide when his hands were torn away from his throat, his vision grew fuzzy and he didn’t realize how dizzy he was when he involuntarily sucked in a shocking breath. Damnit! Why did he let himself breathe? The stars he had seen under his eyelids disappeared around the corners of his eyes to show the horrified expression on Shiro’s face.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
His throat started to hurt and a headache was already blooming on the right side of his temple. Everything felt off as if his world turned upside down to start spinning rapidly and he wasn’t really sure what was going on now. What had he just done? He was so close to reaching a promise at euphoria, but Shiro snapped him out of it before he could finally find the peace he thought he was looking for. Why would he keep Keith from happiness? He just wanted—
A warm hand left his shoulder and smacked him across the cheek to get his attention when words failed to reach him. Had Shiro been talking to him and he just didn’t hear him? He hadn’t realized Shiro was real until he struck him. Keith thought it was a trick of the light or maybe just his imagination playing a cruel joke on him again. It almost didn’t feel possible that he was probably minutes away from something that could help his damaged mind recuperate only for a real, live person to interrupt his process.
But here he was. Shiro crouched to the floor in front of him and he was as real as everything else in the empty hallway. The long hallway lights that had once been flickering had stilled to cast Shiro in a dismal halo. He had come through the doorway like a corporeal being and he stared at Keith with dark eyes. It should have been a good thing that Shiro came in at the
worst
possible time, but he had struck Keith with a hand to get his attention. And it wasn’t a light tap that could rouse someone from sleep; it left a tingle on Keith’s cheek that felt as if it was tickling his skin a pale shade of pink.
His body wanted to shake at the act of violence, but when Shiro’s distressed face made it clear it wasn’t out of anger, Keith didn’t cower like he thought he would. The saying “this’ll hurt me more than it hurts you” echoed in the back of his head. He couldn’t force himself to believe Shiro would ever try to hurt him on purpose when he was struggling in a fight with himself and something maliciously overpowered. The burning aches and pains that bit at his nerves and clawed around in his brain told him that the battle seemed to be far from over. And a confrontation from his friends and found family was only going to be the beginning of something far more painful emotionally rather than physically.
Shiro stared at him with a strange, distraught expression on his face. Both hands moved up to hold Keith’s head in an uncertain embrace. Shiro looked like he was about ready to cry with him when they were stuck staring at each other. Keith wasn’t sure if he’s ever seen Shiro cry before and he couldn’t bring himself to think he would dare cry
for
him. Why did he have to come in at the worst possible moment to stop him from doing this? He was just doing what felt right for him. Why stop him when he wanted this more than anything right now?
“Keith . . .” Shiro shook his head and looked away. Keith watched as a few tears leaked out of the corners of Shiro’s eyes. If anything, Keith wanted to cry because Shiro was upset. There just didn’t seem to be enough emotion left inside his body that could bring himself to do it. A blockade was preventing him from feeling anything but hollow emptiness. He could feel the rattle in his chest as he took in sharp breaths when he felt how Shiro’s hands trembled on either side of his face.
Something tight in his stomach knotted up and twisted. Bile rose up in his throat and he swallowed thickly to keep it down. He didn’t want Shiro to cry in front of him. He thought it would be so easy to just stop everything in this world if he could end it all. But if it meant he was going to leave Shiro in tears because the man saw what he was trying to do, then he wasn’t really sure what to do with himself for the time being. Keith wanted to cry with him because he felt stupid for doing this in the hallway. But it was impossible to cry. He didn’t know how it was possible, but it felt as if the darkness had taken the ability to express himself away. He was left only as a dying soul trapped inside a body.
Down toward the end of the hallway on the left was his own bedroom door. Keith didn’t have to turn his head to know it was there. A heavy breath caught in his throat when he thought about it. He could have saved so much heartache if he had done this awful deed in there rather than out in the open. Keith could have curled up in his bed and squeezed the light out of himself in peace. Now that Shiro knew what he was doing, though, he was going to have to deal with living a life where everyone knew he wanted to die. And they were all going to try their best to prevent him from ever succeeding. He had been so close, and yet, he was saved from his own hands.
These hands
. Staring down at his lap, Keith watched how his fingers folded neatly around each other with endless twiddling. His skin was pale again and there weren’t any talons where fingernails used to be. His hands were back, but he wasn’t exactly sure if his mind could come to ease knowing he had only imagined that darkness for something that couldn’t exist in the physical world. Whatever that abomination was he thought he saw . . . he didn’t want to let himself dwell on it because it was gone now. Hopefully. But none of that mattered to him at all since the damage was already done.
The darkness wasn’t in the world anymore—it had been inside him all along. It had been feeding off his sadness when the kaleidoscope eventually failed him. It grew into something ugly and disgraceful until it could corrupt his mind by forcing abhorrent thoughts inside. It ate away at his former personality to leave him in an empty shell of what he used to be. He didn’t have a clue how long this hallucinatory creature had been devouring him, but it had been long enough for the damage to remain. For it to leave an irreparable sense of nothingness in its wake.
Shiro’s hands moved away from his face to grab him by the shoulders again. Before he could think to get anything out to tell him he didn’t want to be stopped, Shiro yanked him forward until their knees knocked together and Keith bashed his face into the middle of Shiro’s chest. He whined when he felt his nose squish at the tip when it collided with Shiro’s sternum. Large arms wrapped themselves tenderly around him to make sure he couldn’t squirm out of the grasp to escape. If anything, the warmth from Shiro’s body and the pressure he used to squeeze Keith close was the nicest thing he could imagine right now. It felt almost safe in a way.
What was going on with him? Tears that welled up on the rim of his eyes spilled over to soak the front of Shiro’s shirt. A stuttered breath escaped Keith’s lips when he tried and failed to compose himself. With his nose stuffy when he struggled to really breathe again, and splotchy blemishes grew to paint his face a bright shade of red, Keith was certain he looked like a mess that couldn’t be easily mended. He felt his heart figuring out the pace it used to have before he tried to slow it down, but this regular beat felt like it was thumping too hard inside his chest. It banged against his ribs and he wanted nothing more than to just go to sleep and forget any of this ever happened.
S
hiro didn’t say anything; he just held Keith tighter when Keith’s hands slowly released the grip he had when he hugged Shiro back. Shiro wasn’t going to let him go no matter what—especially when he knew that something was obviously wrong and this was a voiceless cry for help. Even trying to convince himself to come to terms with what this might be about, Keith pouted out his lips and sobbed muffled cries into Shiro’s chest when that tense pain in his stomach grew.
He didn’t feel well at all. His mind raced to force itself to come to an understanding of why he had even considered taking his own life a few minutes ago. But there was, unfortunately, no answer he could locate at this time. It was a foolish act since he knew now he would have more than likely took in a breath to start breathing again before he’d actually die. His brain would have told him he was low on oxygen and he’d wind up back at square one. The chance of him fainting due to a lack of air also seemed probable. But it wouldn’t have been enough to actually kill him. It would have been an attempt that wouldn’t have lead up to fruition. No matter how much his body shuddered under his own pained breaths, Keith made sure he held onto Shiro. A friend who’s never given up on him even after all they’ve gone through; alone and together. He’s proven to always have been there for Keith when he needed a boost.
Keith’s face twisted when he thought about what he would have left behind if he had been successful and Shiro didn’t walk in on him in the hallway just then. Cold and gone. Left lying on the floor like he was nothing but an empty husk of a body.
His friends would surely miss him and something dark inside him tried to convince him they wouldn’t even realize he was gone. He was willing to let these hands that weren’t really his try to squeeze the life out of him even if it wouldn’t have worked out in the end. He was willing to die just because he wasn’t happy due to the overwhelming sadness that plagued his mind and rotted his brain. Out of everything the darkness ate out of him, it had also destroyed his sense of reasonable thinking.
His friends would have missed him. Everyone in his life would be sad if he wasn’t here anymore. He wanted to believe the darkness was telling the truth, but only so that his death wouldn’t leave the others in pain.
It lied to him
, and he trusted to its words like it had shared forbidden wisdom over what was really true. More importantly, in a way, he had lied to himself by believing it.
The large body in front of him didn’t tremble when Shiro kept his arms secured tightly around him. It hurt to have to listen to him since his emotions were running high and his train of thought wasn’t exactly present at the moment, but he tried to hear what Shiro told him between short intakes of breath.
“I’m so sorry, Keith,” he started out with a whisper. He bent down to speak directly into Keith’s ear to make sure he would finally listen. “I’m sorry you’ve been hurting and I’ve been too blind to see it. If I would have known you were struggling I would have tried to help. You know you could have talked to me any time you wanted, right?” Shiro held him by the shoulders to push him back far enough to look at him.
Red-rimmed eyes met Keith’s and all Keith could think to do was wanting to cry harder at the face that stared at him. There was so much shame and regret that filled his broken heart that he wasn’t sure if it could handle the pressure for long. The only thing that kept it together was a cheap bottle of glue and how Shiro had held him in a hug. His strength and energy were all but sapped. Drained out of him via the tears he had shed and the air he forced himself to suck in when Shiro stopped him from hurting himself.
Keith watched as Shiro’s eyes moved down to stare at their knees still pressed together. Letting out a sigh, Shiro gently bobbed his head in a slight nod before instructing Keith to show him his boots. When Keith didn’t move to pull his legs out from under himself, Shiro only continued staring at the floor with a vacant expression. He was waiting patiently and didn’t say anything else. It left Keith concerned about what was going to happen if he complied, and he wanted to know what Shiro was asking of him. The request was odd and it didn’t sit well with him.
Keith tried to look into Shiro’s downcast eyes to ask, “Why?” His words rasped and scraped against the tender skin in his throat. His hand flinched to reach up and hold his neck, but he stopped himself when he remembered his hands had just been pulled away from strangling himself. He didn’t want to let a hand find its way back to his neck. Making twin fists in his lap, Keith could only focus on how drab and gray the entire hallway was. But he looked back up at Shiro so he wouldn’t be distracted enough to not listen to what he had to say.
“I don’t want you using the laces of your boots. Please, Keith, let me try and help you.” He didn’t look up to show Keith how upset he was. His tone was level for the most part, but the fear Keith, unfortunately, instilled into Shiro seemed to hurt more than the bruising he gave himself around the neck. When he swallowed down more bile, he cringed. The hollow of his throat where both thumbs had pressed hard enough to make him see stars felt like his hands were still forcing pressure on it. It was worse than any sore throat he’s ever dealt with before. It felt as if it was serving as a reminder that he’s still alive for now. The pain was real, but it was an indicator that he was still here. None of this was a dream.
Something in his stomach twisted horribly when he let himself think about how such a simple thing as some shoe laces could be used as a pseudo-weapon on himself. Who would have thought that laces could have been a good way to strangle himself. He certainly didn’t think of it, and he’s honestly glad he wasn’t capable of thinking about it when he was in a dark moment of weakness.
He didn’t want to have to fight about any of this and decided it would be best to do as he was told. There wasn’t enough heart or energy left inside himself to put up a fight anymore. He knew he had already attempted suicide and Shiro had to witness part of it before getting him to stop. It didn’t feel right to refuse when all Shiro wanted to do right now was ensure he was safe to himself.
Pulling out his legs, he kept both legs straight and pressed together. Pointing his feet down Shiro’s right side, he waited for him to make a move.
He didn’t need to sit around for long because Shiro wasn’t going to waste any time to set himself to work. He watched how Shiro picked apart the loose ties before pulling the laces through their weaved holes. Once one lace was undone, Shiro bunched it up in a fist and shoved it in his pants pocket to keep it out of Keith’s possession. He did the same with the other boot and stuffed the second lace into his other pocket. Keith suspected it was to keep the laces from winding around each other like vicious snakes and knotting together into a bundled mess.
“I don’t know a lot about preventative measures in this sort of case,” Shiro admitted. He rested both hands on top of his own thighs. Keith brought his legs back in close to his body and hugged his knees to his chest to listen. At least folding in on himself gave him a false sense of security. He wasn’t strong enough to look at Shiro as he spoke. “It hurts so much to know that you’ve been going through this and you didn’t let anyone know what was happening. If you’ve been hurting for so long, why didn’t you speak up so we could help you? I don’t know what any of us would have done if you were gone forever. What if I didn’t come in a few minutes ago?”
“I don’t want a lecture, Shiro!” Keith argued before something painful could be said. It was all too much for him to handle, but he didn’t want to have to sit here and listen to Shiro’s words if they were going to make him feel guilty. It was already bad enough he failed, but he didn’t need to feel like crap for hurting his friends' feelings by thinking they couldn’t do anything to help him. This was his battle.
Shiro forced his eyes closed and covered his mouth with a hand. A short whimper came out of him and all Keith could think was how awful he felt about everything right now. He didn’t like feeling this way at all. Rather than watch Shiro fall apart in front of him, Keith resorted to staring at his hands holding onto either wrist as he wrapped his arms around his knees. His skin was the same as it always was. It wasn’t like that black mass he thought he saw before. And his hands have already returned back to normal, as well. They weren't the sharp talons that dug into the floor hard enough to make it crack and break up the hallway into a million shattered pieces. It was just his hands and he didn’t even want to look at them anymore.
His own hands could have potentially been his downfall.
It was like one bad dream he couldn’t wake himself out of. A nightmare he was unable to escape from.
With tension running high in the hushed quiet of the hallway, he wasn’t sure how much of this horrible silence he’d be able to take for long. The quiet
hurt
. It was too much because it left him with nothing to do other than think about how short his breaths were. He couldn’t bring himself to think about how Shiro was trying his best not to fall under some sort of overwhelming emotion. That would only make him feel worse about what he had done.
Why was it such a selfish act to want to die, but it meant leaving mental scars in its place? Sure, he could have locked himself somewhere safe and follow through with this nefarious idea of a promised paradise. But it would only solve
his
problem in the moment. Right now, he’s upset and doesn’t want to be stuck inside his own twisted mind that seemed hopeless to heal. If there were a way for him to stop these growing deleterious notions from poisoning his sanity, then maybe there might just be a chance that time and patience could help him.
He needed a rock. Someone who’s there for him when he needed someone to lean on before gravity tried to force him to the ground without a way back up. With Shiro right in front of him with a somber expression to keep his own feelings in check, Keith didn’t really believe Shiro was in the right mental space to offer significant help. That wasn’t an insult to his person, but Keith needed help from someone who had a better understanding of how to guide him during such a situation. He didn’t want to admit it, but Shiro would only bring about more irritation and possible arguments rather than helping him figure out these thoughts of his.
Keith's throat was sore and dry when his voice came out raspy to quietly ask, “Can you call someone for me? I don’t have my communicator with me right now.”
Dark gray eyes glanced up to look into his own. He was certain his face must look a mess right now since Shiro seemed about ready to lose his mind over what he was staring at. Was it the redness around his eyes or the bruising at his neck that brought fear to Shiro’s face? Or how hollow and paltry his voice sounded when Keith managed a small request? Whatever it was, Keith was just glad there weren’t any conveniently placed mirrors or a reflection he could see in Shiro’s eyes. He didn’t want to look at himself; let alone think about anything.
There was the same awful quietude that sheltered them when neither of them spoke for a spell. Something heavy settled in the middle of Keith’s chest that felt like it was bearing down on him to add more unnecessary pressure; mental and physical. If he let himself dwell on that invisible weight sitting on him then he’d believe it was slowly cutting off his air supply. Like his lungs were fighting to expand within the shortened space within his chest. Whatever this thing was, it hurt to think that it was similar to those hellish hands that had convinced him to try and stop everything.
Was it possible that when Shiro came in to interrupt Keith from trying to kill himself that the metaphysical hands had transformed and were moving elsewhere within his body to stop him from the inside? Such a realization had him choking on a breath. Was something like this at all real or just in his head? Sure that he had overreacted over possibly nothing made the weight on his chest drop down hard. Was all of this pain for nothing then? If there wasn’t a plausible or valid reason for feeling this way, he didn’t have a clue if it was even okay for him to feel sad enough to contemplate death over fixing himself. He wasn’t sure and didn’t know if he could handle any more of this before the spiral would turn out to be too much for him to bear.
His hands shot up from his lap to grab Shiro firmly at both shoulders. The ability to hold onto Shiro was enough to knock a little bit of relief into his head. It won’t be a permanent fix—it may never be—but at least it’ll give him a smidgen of comfort in knowing Shiro’s really here in front of him and he’s not a hallucination.
Keith didn’t look into how shocked and stunned Shiro was. He schooled his focus instead on the soft material of the vest Shiro wore to distract himself. Memorizing how it felt in his hands. Thinking about the texture and feeling a few loose threads that found themselves undone from being in a handful of fights in the past.
If anything, thinking about something as simple as a piece of clothing seemed to give Keith one of the smallest of reassurances. He still wasn’t thrilled with the idea that Shiro might cry in front of him to unintentionally guilt him into thinking what he did was wrong. Keith knew it was wrong, but he didn’t need nor want to hear about it right now. All he wanted was to get level-headed again before he was willing to discuss such matters. The last thing he wanted to think about was how
other
people would feel about him being gone. None of this was about them—it should be about figuring out what’s going on with
Keith
and how he can get back on the right path again.
And it appeared he was going to need someone with a good listening ear and a shoulder to lean on.
“Shiro,” Keith muttered. It took a lot of inner strength to get himself to look up long enough to make sure Shiro was listening to him. When he saw the furrowed eyebrows and the pained, but understanding look on his face, Keith gave a short nod before tearing his eyes away again. Even now, maintaining eye contact seemed to be a distant memory. It hurt too much to see the pain he was causing. His voice trembled, but at least he didn’t trip lazily over his own words to ask, “Can you please get Coran for me? I need his help.”
His arms fell away from both shoulders when Shiro moved to lean back and reach into his pocket for the communicator. Staring back down at the smooth gray floor, he listened as Shiro punched in the right buttons to call for Coran’s assistance. It was at least amusing to know that Shiro hadn’t gone into the communicator’s settings to disable the annoying beeping sound effects every time a button was pressed. Funny that it took Keith until now to realize that each button had a slightly altered sound. Kind of like it was being typed out in morse code. Long and short beeps screamed into the peaceful hallway. Even though it was irksome to listen to, at least the sound was better than the room being bordered off by a quiet spell.
It was almost like it held a promise for the future. When the hushed quiet that surrounded him was slowly breaking away from all the obnoxious pings and beeps, it was finally opening a door he never realized had been shut in front of him this entire time.
After what seemed like only a few seconds of all deafening silence, a ping came from Shiro’s communicator to let him know that Coran had immediately messaged him back.
“What did he say?” Keith asked with his eyes still downcast.
“Uh,” Shiro stalled. Keith glanced up to see a bewildered expression on the man’s face as he tried to figure out what to make of the message. He exaggerated a nervous swallow before clearing his throat to read the response with a steady voice: “‘Don’t worry, Shiro. You get Keith and yourself to the lounge and I’ll be there faster than you can squeal like a yalmor pack finding a
Faunatonium Wizplute
!’”
An exaggerated sigh left Keith’s lips before saying quietly, “Yep, that sounds like Coran, alright.”
Neither of them said a word beyond that. Shiro moved fast to stand up first so he could hold out an offered hand to help Keith up from the floor. When Keith reached up to accept, he tried to give Shiro a smile to show he was appreciative for such kindness. But the smile that tried to form wasn’t strong enough to show itself on his face. In spirit, he was grateful.
Keith stared at nothing as they made their way back to the lounge area. All of the gray inside the hall disappeared after crossing through the threshold to sweep them in a wash of white walls and floor. But the darkness felt like it was still hiding in the shadows deep inside his head. The probability of escaping its grasp felt low, but so long as he wasn’t left alone, he felt a little bit safer. He just hoped that Coran got to the lounge soon before he took the Altean up on the offer of
squealing like a yalmor
.