A New Hope

17. No More Running (Shiro)

Keith

Okay, this is not how I expected my night to go, so for a while, I stare at Shiro, trying to comprehend the sheer oddness of him being here, on Daibazaal, standing on my porch, and looking... well, now that the shock has passed, and I examine him more carefully, he seems exhausted, face paler than usual, deep frown lines etched into his forehead, but also somehow lighter than when I saw him last.

"Are you going to invite me in?" he asks again when I stare at him with my jaw hanging open. That kicks my reason back into gear.

"Ugh, no," I say, wrapping my arms around me as though the gesture could protect my battered chest.

"Please. I just want to talk. You left Earth so fast I didn't get a chance to react."

"Kind of the point, Shiro."

"Keith." His voice trickles down my spine. "I called off the wedding."

"You did what?"

"I was getting married for the wrong reasons. To the wrong person."

"What are you saying, Shiro?"

"I'm saying that we should talk and that I missed you."

Without warning, he enfolds me in a hug, and for a moment, I stand there, arrow-straight, unwilling to accept this weird situation as my new reality, thinking it must be a dream I'm going to wake up from at any second. But Shiro squeezes me tighter, and I breathe in his clean smell, a hint of soap and vanilla and something I've never been able to pinpoint, something quintessentially Shiro. It's the scent filtering into my lungs that convinces me this is real, and the realization sends my heart into freefall as I melt into Shiro's embrace, trying to cling to him as closely as possible.

"Okay, you can come in," I say, my voice muffled by his broad chest.

Together, we head to the kitchen.

"There's nothing to sit on in the living room," I say as an explanation, but Shiro doesn't comment on the lack of furnishing. He claims one of the uncomfortable chairs that came with the house, eyes fixed on me the entire time.

"Do you want anything? Although I only have water or some food goo. Wasn't expecting visitors."

"Water's fine," Shiro says, and when I set the glass in front of him, he uses the opportunity to capture my hand and hold it while I slot into the chair next to him. Release. Abort. The alarm in my brain is blaring at full volume, prompting me to yank the hand away. As much as I'd like to pretend, this isn't real. Either I'll wake up, or Shiro will change his mind, or a meteor will hit us. Shiro scowls and tightens his grip and my feeble attempt at escaping fails.

"No. None of that. No more running, Keith."

"Fine! You wanted to talk, so talk."

For a while, Shiro doesn't respond. He skates his thumb over my knuckles, then brings my hand to his mouth for a soft kiss. The whisper of his touch sets my blood on fire. Everything inside me is ablaze, caught in the terrible hope that this isn't a weird hallucination, that we're here, together, with no more obstacles keeping us apart. But of course, life isn't a fantasy, so there's always something intruding, something to solve.

Shiro raises his eyes to mine but doesn't release my hand, and oh god, how is such a simple touch messing with my head? I'm not exactly innocent, and yet I have to bite back the whimper threatening to spill out of me, embarrassing as hell.

"Guess I'll start from the beginning. Last time, you explained why you left, but do you know why I asked you to stay? No, how could you." He lets out a bitter laugh. "I wasn't honest with you."