Dog Days // Sheith

Chapter Three: Leave Your Longing Behind

When Keith woke up, he was in his parent's room, lying on his back on the floor. His comforter was draped over him, flushing him with heat so that he was sweating. He could feel it along his back. Beside him, there was a hole in the floor, the rough edges flecked with blood and chipped pieces of nail. He frowned, reaching his hand out to touch, only to stop short at the sight of his mangled hands. The chipped pieces of fingernails were his. He heard footsteps in the hallway turning his head quickly to find Shiro standing in the doorway. He watched as tension visibly left Shiro's body.

"You're awake."

"What-?"

"I'll tell you soon. The shower is working, sort of. Lukewarm at best, but."

Keith blinked hard, rubbing his eye with his knuckles. It hurt. "Mm. Yeah."

He stared at himself in the grungy bathroom mirror, gaping slightly. The whites of his right eye were no longer white at all. A hematoma had turned them blood red. Cautiously, he pulled down his bottom eyelid to inspect the damage, then he scrubbed at his eye though it made no difference. There was blood crusted around the inside of his nostrils and a coppery taste in his mouth. The dull ringing in his ears were telling him that at some point, he'd had another migraine.

A cold shower helped. Keith stood under the stream for a long time, letting it melt away the residual headache and clean away any trace of blood, save the taste in his mouth. He didn't put his blood soaked shirt back on, just his jeans, wandering out to the kitchen with damp hair and a growling stomach. Before he could do anything to fix that though, Shiro stepped in front of him, gesturing over to the kitchen counter where a first aid kit waited for him. Keith sat on the counter, and between the two of them they cleaned and bandaged Keith's fingers and he managed to contain most of his complaints while Shiro pulled splinters out of his palms with a pair of tweezers.

Once they were done, Keith stared down at the bandages, picking at the tied ends on the inside of his wrist.

"Don't." Shiro laughed and Keith groused, dropping his hands into his lap. "I went out and got us some food, and a change of clothes for you."

"Food." Keith said, before Shiro could even get the full sentence out.

Keith wolfed down two sandwiches without a word, pausing only once to pull on the black t-shirt shiro had bought him- 'To hide the blood'. Keith had grunted around a mouthful in thanks. For a moment things were normal. Shiro had even bought Keith cigarettes, one of which he lit off of the gas stove, cracking open the kitchen window to try and keep the smell to a minimum. Keith slowed down. Of course it couldn't last long, though. Once his cigarette was spent and he'd eaten the last few bites of his sandwich, he asked Shiro what had happened, and Shiro told him.

Keith stared out of the kitchen window, ash from the cigarette between his lips falling into the sink. Shiro watched him, leaning against the island counter.

"Keith?"

"The- the thing I dug up. Where is it?" He heard Shiro move, leaving the room for a few minutes. When he came back, he set the cloth bundle down next to the sink. Keith sucked in a breath, coughing when all he got was acrid smoke from his cigarette burning down too close to the filter. He dropped it into the sink, hanging his head. Shiro ran a hand down his back lightly. They glanced at each other, and then Keith snatched up the bundle and tore away the cloth.

It was a knife in an old cracking leather sheath. The handle was wrapped in more cloth. Keith worried his lip, holding his breath as he pulled the sheath away, revealing the strange but not unfamiliar blade. Shiro audibly sucked in a breath. Keith slowly unwound the cloth covering the handle and spine of the knife, dropping it with a loud clank into the sink when it was revealed.