YELLOW [[klance]] [[COMPLETED]]

keith.

part 1: boy meets boy.

the room's lights are constantly too bright. they whitewash the shiny white floor and white walls. everything here has been bleached of color and life. 

the couch's are gray, but i don't know if they're comfortable or not, because i can't sit in them. they sit in a semi-circle facing the whiteboard.

there are two large windows behind the couches. the sun is usually yellow, a color that reminds me of lemonade and custard and fingernail polish. today, it is covered by a hazy layer of ashy-gray clouds. the hospital's garden is cast in gray, inside cast in white. it's a concept. 'boy lives in world of black and white'.

shiro sits on a tall stool in front of the whiteboard. his hair is as white as everything else, but softer, the frosted tips wavy and falling over his gray eyes. his eyes are a different gray too. they sparkle, like little lights. his face is strong-boned and chiseled, his smile genuinely warm. he is everything this place is not. 

you can tell why he's here, though, by the stump where his arm used to be. it's scarred but healed and has been for awhile. he used to have cancer, and instead of ditching this fucking place he decided to stay and help the other poor kids who weren't fortunate enough to get out.

we both know that he never expected me to be one of them.

right now, he shifts in his stool and looks around. the ticking of the clock is unbearably annoying and i want to stand, reach up and use my own two hands to rip it down. i can't, though. even if i was allowed, i wouldn't be able to. 

"we're almost done here," shiro says, shifting his binder and clipboard in his hand. "does anyone else want to talk?"

his eyes graze over me, but with a jerk of my head he flicks them away. there are only a few other people who still come to these things. none of us want to, though. there's a girl with bright pink nails, fluffy slippers that match her giant robe, and a floppy hat pulled over her bald head. she's so skinny and pale she's nothing but a skeleton that blends into the walls. her wide eyes blink, like an owls, and she says in a small, porcelain voice "no thank you". her eyes are red from crying. she's new here.

there's a boy in a wheelchair too, like me, but he just stares, stares, stares out the window. sometimes he drools. all these people have are their eyes - always looking, never finding what they're looking for. there's a kid with lime-green hair who has thick bandages from her wrist to the bend of her elbow. this is the first time she's come without an aid (there's no way to off yourself in here anyway), and her face is sour and puckered. she's like a lime. 

the last two are actually my friends. pidge and hunk. they, just like shiro, don't live here. they, like shiro, aren't on the brink of death, yet decided to come here once a week anyway. pidge has no legs - just two prosthetics, an impish grin and a big, patched-up bomber jacket. hunk has two, giant white scars trailing across his chest. his smile is warm like shiro's too, just not as responsible. he looks closer to hugging you at any moment then counselling you about the meaning of life.

"nah, i'm good," pidge says truthfully, forever donning a smirk while they pick at their fingernails. 

shiro rolls his eyes, smiling. "alright, you guys are dismissed. see you all next week, right?" there are a chorus of bored/tired 'yes's, when pidge and hunk are the only ones that give more then 0 fucks. everyone files out while shiro says goodbye to them at the open double-doors. i stay behind, while pidge and hunk both echo goodbye.

when everyone is gone, shiro heads back in and starts putting his stuff in his backpack, which leans against the stool.

"you still haven't really talked much yet," he comments.

i study my nails, each little nub caked in flaking black polish. "eh."

he looks up. eyes serious. "i think you need to."

"i think i don't want to."

he sighs. lot's of sighing. this place is full of sighing. "it's nice to open up."

i ball both fists in my lap and turn my head to look out the window. nothing has changed, shadows hang like curtains. maybe it will rain. it's been awhile since i've felt the rain on my face. "maybe i don't want to open up."

he stands, straightens, heaves the backpack over his shoulder. "why?"

"'cause."

he rolls his eyes, but allows a small smile to show that i'm off the hook. for now. he starts scrubbing the whiteboard. little flecks of red scatter against the pearly board. "so, adam is bringing Chinese food tonight. maybe we can eat in your room? you won't have to be alone."

"cool."

"speaking of which..." he pats his hand on his blue jeans to wipe off the dry-erase-marker dust. "you have a new roommate."

"what?" my head jerks to look at him so fast chunks of hair fall loose from behind my ears and fall in front of my eyes. i've never had a roommate. i don't really need someone to witness my constant humiliation on a daily basis.

"yeah, he should be meeting me around now." more smiling. "you should definitely meet him. he just got transferred from the Children's Hospital."

i have the strong urge to whine like an annoyed small child, but i just continue to squeeze my fists in my lap. "what's his name?"

"lance mcclain, i believe."

almost as if summoned, there's a knock against the open door, and we both turn to look in unison.

"hey! lance, right?"

shiro approaches to shake his hand. 

i just stare.