Fourteen Days (5 Days Left)

Day 13 (I have you)

(Lance)

I stood, unable to move, very conscious of my arms wrapped around Keith's shirtless body, and Keith's arms on my waist, as we both stood in a mess of butter, flour, and spit. Shiro stood wide eyed at us, his mouth open, but nothing coming out.

It was probably only a second or two, but it felt like five minutes as they stared. I looked over to Keith, only to see a mixed expression of shock, and horror splayed across his face. At some point Keith removed his hands from my waist, and I stiffly let my arms fall from Keith.

It was Shiro's struggled words that broke the smog of silence that seemed to be choking me, and the air around us.

"I- uh, Keith?"

Suddenly Keith was pushing past Shiro.
I was incidentally being drug behind him by the wrist. I had the feeling if Keith could cut off a hand to get away from me, he would.
'But who's hand would Keith cut off?' I wondered as we stormed out of the dining hall.
Keith stomped down the hallway, not looking over his shoulder, or changing his speed. I struggled to keep up at the awkward pace, to slow for himys long legs, but to fast to be a walk.

"Keith? Keith, are you okay?" I asked as they moved. The words felt hollow though.

'Of course he's not fucking okay!' My mind scolded me mentally.

But i had no idea what else to say. Keith didn't respond, even as we marched past a clearly startled, and confused Pidge. At first she smiled at our mess, then her smile quickly dropped, as she saw whatever expression Keith had on his face.

Not that he was letting me see it. Any time I tried to catch up, Keith sped up too. No Matter how fast I went, Keith would go faster, and avoid my gaze. Pidge sputtered out some stuttering questions, but before she could get a response I had been pulled into Keith's room, the door slide shut behind us.
Keith immediately fell to his knees by his bed, his head buried into the blanket, and his knees on the hard metal floor. I heard him sob, and had no idea what to do.

So at first I just stood there worthlessly, and Keith's powdered back wracked with cries, and coughs aimed into his blanket. So I got on my knees next to Keith, and leaned on the bed with him.
I wanted to hold him, to comfort him, but I felt like he had no right to do it. I wanted to wrap Keith up in my arms, and take away the pain, but was afraid Keith would lash out. But as Keith's cries turned into a wordless painful moan, my heart cursed at me until I put a hand over Keith's back.

Keith didn't respond in any way, other than to continue to cry. So I wrapped my other hand over Keith's hand on the bed, and laid my head on Keith's shoulder.

We stayed there so long that my knees ached with pain from the hard floor, and my back begged to be set straight.

'But I'd have to let go to do that, and Keith o my stopped crying a minute ago.'

So I stayed still. Eventually the pain in my knees got so bad that I had to release Keith's hand, and grabbed a spare pillow.

Only instead of putting it under my own knees, I put it in front of Keith's, trying to urge him to lift them. After a moment of stubborn hesitation, Keith slowly lifted a knee, so I could slide the pillow under it, then did the same with the other. All while keeping his head buried in the sheets.

I swore he'd sit there all day and night if I had to. On my knees, on my hands, on my head if I have to. Until Keith is better.
So I did. For maybe another hour we knelt there, until I saw that even through the pillow, Keith's knees were getting white from the discomfort of the floor, so I finally stood.

While my own knees cried in relief, I didn't do it for them. I place a hand under Keith's arm, and the older boy begrudgingly let me lift, and slide him onto the bed. Keith slowly rolled over to his side, facing the wall.
I caught a small glimpse of his face, his cheeks were red and puffy, but dry now. Streaks through the white and brown powder that was on his face.