The Dead Don't Bleed

Scream

Word Count: 2,427

Keith started awake when he realized he could see nothing but the dull brown of the fabric pulled over his head, and he coughed as the smell of something dank and moldy assaulted his nose, "Shiro? Hunk?" He coughed again, the noise loud, "A-anyone?"

There was a high pitched ringing in his, ears that he couldn't shake and Keith coughed again trying to get the smell of mold out of his lungs. After a dull moment or two, Keith realized that ringing was crystallizing into a voice. "-eith? Keith, answer me, buddy, come on."

Keith furrowed his brows at the voice, that sounded like- "Shiro?"

The bag came off slowly, bright light filling in after the stark darkness of the fabric, and Keith squeezed his eyes shut, finally inhaling a breath of fresher air.

Once he was sure he could handle the light, he cracked one eye open, taking in what looked of some sort of cell. It was small and cramped and definitely not meant to hold three people, and almost looked like one of those cells you'd see out of the movies, three walls a dark grey while the fourth was obscured by thick bars that looked into a piece of a long hallway, another cell identical to theirs right across from it had nothing in it but a pile of rags in a corner.

In their own cell, a small cot sat on one side of the room, and a worn and rusty bucket sat in the opposite corner, but other than that and themselves, the room was fairly empty.

Hunk was sitting on the floor at the foot of the cot, staring off, and most likely hyperventilating at his situation. Lance, was angrily pacing the room, hands occasionally going up to helplessly comb through his short hair before dropping back down at his sides only to do it all over again while he mumbled to himself.

The memories came flooding back to his mind all at once, like a dam bursting, and Keith realized they had been captured. Hands now apparently free from their bindings, he reached for the familiar weight of the communicator on his wrist only to find it was gone.

"Yeah, they took our stuff, all of it, I don't even have my knife I carry with me for emergencies," Lance breathed out an angry sigh as he sat down on the cot, which squeaked under his weight.

Shiro seemed to be the only one focused on Keith at the moment, but he looked a little more worn down than before they had been captured. There was a cut under one eye, and he looked as if he had been punched in the face repeatedly.

Keith coughed once more to get the remainder of the smell out of his system before finally speaking, "What happened?"

Shiro shook his head, "We were captured by a group of thugs that were working for payment."

This was new news, and Keith raised his brows in surprise, "Then, who-"

"That's not important. Keith, I remember, I remember everything, Keith, it's me."

Keith's eyes widened as he took in more than just how beat-up he looked, Shiro's brown eyes certainly looked different, he didn't look as cut-off as he had before, he looked more ... well, alive, he looked familiar and safe and-.

"I promised I would never give up on you, Keith, I'm still here, aren't I?" He smiled lightly, and Keith did a double take, he had promised that before- that had to mean-

"Shiro."

His voice was suddenly thick with tears and without a second thought, Keith barreled himself into Shiro's arms, hugging the man tight while Shiro seemed to hug him back even tighter, so tight, he was surprised he could breathe at all, but that didn't matter, none of it mattered now.