Burnt Out {A Hero!AU Sheith Fanfiction}

Unrequited?

For the first time in three days, Shiro woke up without Keith beside him in the bed. Which was... odd. All things considering, anyways.

It had taken him a good moment or so to wake up completely — his system was sluggish. Exhausted, really. Black had stirred him from his deeper slumber with her purring in his ears and her kneading paws on his shoulder, but he still tried to hold onto sleep the best he could. It wasn't until he recognized the familiar chill of his big empty bed that he fluttered his eyes open, and pushed up on his elbows. He gave a soft grumble, and reached a hand up to rub his face, only to find that a flash of a sharp ache shot through his muscles. Shiro winced and looked down at himself, wondering tiredly if the pain was from a fight or something...

And then something sparked in Shiro's groggy brain, and he remembered everything.

Everything.

Shiro gave what could have been an embarrassed squeak, both hands flying to his mouth to cover it up after the strangled yip of surprise. Slowly, he reached one of those hands down to peek underneath the covers — wondering if he could just pretend it was some really really good dream. He dropped the cover down once he confirmed he wasn't wearing any clothes, trying to ignore all of the marks scattered about his thighs and his waist — bruises he knew couldn't have come from any punch or any kick.

The memories of the night prior were fresh and vivid. Shiro didn't know whether that was good thing or a bad thing. On one hand, he had the image of Keith leaning over him — kissing his neck and his chest and curling his hands tightly into Shiro's bangs. All those sweet things Keith had murmured to Shiro. All those sweet things Keith did to him. It was all there and it was lovely but...

But on the other hand, Shiro didn't know if he was ever going to be able to see Keith the same again.

What did that mean? What did any of that mean? Shiro blew a long breath through his mouth sweeping his bangs back off of his forehead with one of his hands. It seemed to come out of nowhere... had Keith always felt like that about him? Did Shiro always... did Shiro always feel that way about Keith?

He had to find Keith and talk to him about it... about them. He needed to know if what happened the night before meant that they were... something. God, it was so complicated. Why did his first time have to be so complicated?

Shiro pushed up from the bed a little more, anxiously chewing on the inside of his cheek. He scoured the floor for clothes — only finding his own splayed out, tossed onto the floor without care or thought. Atlas was curled up by the fireplace, and Black was still sitting beside him on the bed, but Kosmo was nowhere to be seen. He stood, embarrassedly collecting his boxers and slipping them on. Shiro, after pulling on a pair sweatpants, made his way to the master bathroom to brush his teeth and splash his face with some water.

He cringed at his reflection — tired eyes, marked up neck and collarbone, bruises and love bites that would likely last him a week or so at best. He would have to cover up his neck and even his fucking jaw with makeup for a while so the press didn't get any ideas. Shiro, huffing a little, ducked down, turning on the faucet and splashing his face with cool sink water a few times before blindly groping for his toothbrush.

Shiro, face cleaned and teeth brushed, went back to his room to find a shirt. Atlas and Black both followed at his ankles as he left his bedroom to go downstairs, a strange sort of anxiety twisting in his gut as he pulled his t-shirt over his head. He wondered why Keith left the bed. Maybe he was hungry? After everything he did the night before... Shiro figured with a blush and a shiver that it wouldn't have been surprising if Keith needed something to eat.