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28 - Two Things

KEITH

"They're going to what?"

Adam closed his eyes briefly and repeated, "They said he's reaching a critical condition, so they're gonna have to remove his right arm as soon as possible."

"No – I heard you," said Keith, his head still digesting the information. "But how soon is soon?"

"Tomorrow," Adam responded, not bothering to hide the fact that he, too, was relatively rattled about this piece of information. "Maybe tonight."

Keith fixated his attention on the still unconscious form that was Shiro, while an unpleasant sensation of dread mingled with restlessness stirred at the pit of his stomach. Almost three weeks had passed since his brother was rushed into the hospital, and Keith and Adam had long since recomposed their emotions to start functioning like decent individuals again. Glad though he was that the winter break had finally arrived, he still doubted he'd be enjoying Christmas at all this year, not when the one prominent figure in his life was currently stowed in his realm.

Not that Adam Wright never played an equally important role throughout Keith's late adolescence. Hell, the man had become as significant to him as Shiro was – having been there whenever the latter wasn't around. But considering Shiro was the one who had been there from the start, any incident that nudged the man to teeter between life and death would deliver the biggest ramification on Keith.

Adam remained by Shiro's side now, his thumb ceaselessly tracing patterns on the back of his boyfriend's hand. The right hand. Always the right hand. Anguish curled on his lips; the only manifestation that despite having gone through a similar occurrence once, the emotional impact would never falter from being weighty as it now was. Keith could only imagine how deep the torment would drag them should things decide to take one step further.

Keith breathed in and counted in his head.

He'll be fine.

"Keith?"

He looked up across the bed at Adam. "Yeah?"

"Do you, by chance, know when the next Atlas game is?"

The question was so off-the-charts that Keith had to blink twice to make sure he hadn't imagined it. "As in – the basketball game?"

"Yes,"

"Not sure. February?" he cocked an eyebrow as he said this. "Lance doesn't exactly keep me as his basketball journal."

Lance. Keith hadn't talked to him since that day he came over.

Which was, in all honesty, probably for the best. "Why are you asking?" Keith added, unable to trust himself with his own calamitous head should he remain silent.

"'Cause I've been postponing our classes, you see," responded Adam casually. "And he's got a lot to catch up on. Wouldn't work well if they keep clashing with his basketball trainings. I need him when he's free and not tired."

Keith merely nodded, trying to pretend like the subject of Lance didn't just set his insides alight with ardent emotions. He hoped Adam couldn't hear his skin buzzing, because he sure felt like the blood rushing in his veins resembled the sound of tidal waves.

"What about your other students?" Keith asked, willing the image of Lance to vanish from his mind.

"They're not as busy as Lance, so they're good,"

It was like the more often the name was mentioned, the more corporeal the person himself grew to materialise in his head. Now he feared that "Lance" would become some kind of a magical incantation; cast the spell, brandish your wand, and he would emerge through a puff of smoke and glitter. The idea was downright risible if it wasn't adding a dose of panic into Keith's already haphazard brain.