His Mistakes

Part 3

My first intention when I got to the house was to toss my bag on the couch and go to my room. To be completely honest with myself, it didn't turn out how I'd hoped it would. Instead, this is what happened:

I stumbled through the front door, almost tripping in the process, I must add. I very slowly snail'ed my way to the couch and gently set the bag against the back cushion and fell face first horizontally across the surface. I stayed there for a few mimutes. I could tell Shiro was just going to leave me, as he usually knew why I passed out when I got home. And the term "passed out," I assure you, is not an exaggeration. I literally passed out from exhaustion.

About thirty minutes later, I felt a hand gently nudge my shoulder.

 "Keith?" Of course I recognized Shiro's voice right away. And we were the only two in the house, so I don't know who else I was thinking. Maybe I thought it was one of my friends since I woke up not knowing where exactly I was.

I opened my eyes slowly and sat up on the couch to see Shiro standing above me. He looked kind of worried despite knowing that I came home this way every week. 

 "Are you okay? You look just completely drained."

 "That's because I am." I answered in a flat tone, reclining back into a comfortable slouch. 

 " I'm so glad this is my last year. " I mumbled mostly to myself. 

I wasn't looking but I could feel the smile on Shiro's face. Not a happy one, but a sympathetic one.

 "Don't worry about your homework. Just get some sleep for tonight. You'll just overwork yourself."

 That's what he'd said at least. I thought otherwise. What would it hurt getting a bit more finished before going to sleep?

My brain.

It hurt my tired-as-fuck brain. 

I eventually have up after getting about 80% finished and fell asleep with the light on in my room. Shiro came in in the middle of the night and turned it off. Plus, moving the books scattered across my bed. I really was thankful that he was there for me all the time. If not, I'd probably be dead by now. I called him a dad, but really he wasn't one. 

More like an older brother.