Spilled Milk

III

Three years earlier….

    “What time does the show start?” Lance asked. It was their first BIG gig.
    “Ten.” Keith replied softly.
    “I'm starving.” Lance whined and slumped down into his seat on the bus.
    “I can go get us something.” Shiro said softly. “I've got cash on me and we’ve got time.”
    “You don't have to.” Keith looked up. “I can do it.”
    “No, I've always wanted to see New York.” Shiro grinned. “I'll be right back. I promise.”
    “Take your phone.” Keith said as he got up, stuffing his wallet in his back pocket. Shiro nodded and put his phone in his front pocket. “Text me when you get somewhere.”
    “I will.” He smiled and waved as he stepped out. “See you later.”

    “Has he texted yet?” Lance asked softly. He’d been gone an hour.
    “No.” Keith sighed. “I'm worried.”
    “I'm going to call.” Lance said, trying to find his phone.
    “Maybe he got lost.” Keith said nervously. Keith was just eighteen, Spilled Milk was the first band he was in charge of.
    Lance called and there was no answer.

    “He's still not back!” Lance said, pacing now.
    “I'm sure he's fine.” Keith attempted to assure. “He's probably just enjoying the city!” He smiled weakly. “And it's too late to cancel our show now. You should've been out there fifteen minutes ago.”
    “Not without Shiro. He's part of the band too.” Lance huffed.
    “You go out. I'll c—” Keith’s phone rang as he pushed Lance out on stage. “Go. I'll text you if anything comes up.”
    “Alright. Thank you.” He sighed before running out on stage.
    Keith answered his phone. “Hello?”
    “Is this Keith?” An unknown voice asked.
    “Yes, who is this?”
    “I'm Dr.Shay from Saint Luke’s Hospital. Your friend had you as one of his I-C-E contacts.”
    “What's wrong with Shiro?” He asked immediately. He was pacing now.
    “Someone found him collapsed in an alley. We think he was jumped.”
    “Oh my—” He covered his mouth. “Is he okay? How hurt is he?”
    “His nose is broken and has a laceration across it, he has lacerations in several places. He has a concussion but he should be able to leave tomorrow.”
    “Can I come see him?”
    “Of course. He's awake now, would you like to speak to him?”
    “Y-Yes please.”
    The line went quiet for a moment before Shiro spoke groggily. “Hello?”
    “Shiro. Oh my god. Are you okay?”
    “Yes. I'm fine. Don't worry about me. Has the show started?”
    “Yes… Lance was really worried.”
    “Were you?” He whispered.
    “Yes. Very.”
    “Well I'm okay. So don't worry.” He smiled. “You don't have to come until tomorrow.”
    “Don't be silly.”

    Keith left the show and took a cab to the hospital, telling the reception of the hospital that they were brothers (white people seemed to think that a lot) so he could be let up. As soon as he made it to his room he went and sat next to him. He gently took his hand. He immediately gasped in pain.
    “Did I hurt you?” Keith whispered. Shiro, grimacing, nodded quickly. “Should I call a nurse?” Again he nodded.
    Keith did just that, Shiro used his other hand to hold onto Keith.
     It turned out that his bones had been almost completely shattered. To the point where they ripped tendons to the point of no fixing it. Shiro, the next day, had his arm removed.
    Lance ended the show that night after only a half hour and went to see him immediately.
    The entire band came to see him later, they all slept in his room. Except Lance. He stayed up with him all night. (He wasn't allowed to sleep due to his concussion.)

    Shiro didn't feel comfortable talking about it. He only told the story once. To the cops, Keith, and Lance. After that he didn't speak of it. Their fans still didn't know but they all had far-out theories. None of them were even close. His personal favorite was that an alien thought he was so pretty that he just needed to steal his arm and cut his face up, failing to make him ugly and only making him prettier. Lance, too, enjoyed this theory.