[ The long hot shower helps. Keith isn't really one to bother with those as a form of stress relief when there are so many other things he could think of doing with that time wasted, Hadn't exactly been a habit encouraged by sharing a bathroom with a bunch of other dysfunctional kids at the group home or by the Garrison either. But then again, just about anything is likely to be more relaxing than this talk waiting outside the door, huh?
He tells himself he's not avoiding Shiro exactly, but by the time the running water has stopped staining blue and his skin's gone pruney, he's forced to concede that maybe he is. The thought sits poorly, of course. Shiro is someone he can talk to about anything ... except intimacy specifically between them, apparently. They've been close for a long time. even more literally these days due to synchrony being what it is, but he's starting to realize that lines are getting blurred. Sure, powder is an easy culprit, but he doesn't know what to do with the awareness of what things between them could be like. Seems easier to sweep it all under the rug of stupid, hormonally charged bullshit that isn't ultimately worth ruminating over because that's not how they actually feel about each other. Or maybe the topic will rear its ugly head again simply because life here is fundamentally different from the one he's used to. There aren't any wars, no concrete "bigger picture" to stay focused on -- just some abstract sense of guilt that picks at the corners of his conscience whenever he thinks about the paladins. Krolia. The wolf. Not that he'd asked to wake up in Noctium ... or most of what's happened in his life.
But as much as he could stay in the shower longer until he's sterilized all feeling out of his thoughts, there's inevitably going to be a point where Shiro's concern is going to override his patience. Before that can happen, Keith forces himself out of the shower and out of the bathroom, dressed in a clean black shirt and pants and a towel draped over his wet hair. He catches the kitten darting off to a different corner of the apartment, and his eyes stay on her for a long moment before he finally looks at Shiro seated on the couch.
The lighthearted tone of the question doesn't match the tension in Shiro's body language . Keith doesn't know whether he's grateful for the attempt at levity or annoyed. That's always been Shiro's style -- approach cautiously, ease into harder conversations. At least when leadership wasn't the topic of choice, anyway. But it's so diametrically opposed to Keith's approach in just about everything that the knot in his stomach is tighter for having to feign normalcy first. Taking a deep breath, he folds his arms and shifts his gaze towards a painting on the wall. ]
Better, I guess? [ He takes a tentative step towards Shiro, then decides proximity is probably a bad idea and leans against the doorframe instead. He stays there, quiet for a beat and then: ] Not really my color.
[ It's also pretty obviously not what he wants to say, but if Shiro would rather handle this delicately than with a sledgehammer Keith supposes he can at least match the effort. ]
shiro is keeping her from being a ninja cat hmph
He tells himself he's not avoiding Shiro exactly, but by the time the running water has stopped staining blue and his skin's gone pruney, he's forced to concede that maybe he is. The thought sits poorly, of course. Shiro is someone he can talk to about anything ... except intimacy specifically between them, apparently. They've been close for a long time. even more literally these days due to synchrony being what it is, but he's starting to realize that lines are getting blurred. Sure, powder is an easy culprit, but he doesn't know what to do with the awareness of what things between them could be like. Seems easier to sweep it all under the rug of stupid, hormonally charged bullshit that isn't ultimately worth ruminating over because that's not how they actually feel about each other. Or maybe the topic will rear its ugly head again simply because life here is fundamentally different from the one he's used to. There aren't any wars, no concrete "bigger picture" to stay focused on -- just some abstract sense of guilt that picks at the corners of his conscience whenever he thinks about the paladins. Krolia. The wolf. Not that he'd asked to wake up in Noctium ... or most of what's happened in his life.
But as much as he could stay in the shower longer until he's sterilized all feeling out of his thoughts, there's inevitably going to be a point where Shiro's concern is going to override his patience. Before that can happen, Keith forces himself out of the shower and out of the bathroom, dressed in a clean black shirt and pants and a towel draped over his wet hair. He catches the kitten darting off to a different corner of the apartment, and his eyes stay on her for a long moment before he finally looks at Shiro seated on the couch.
The lighthearted tone of the question doesn't match the tension in Shiro's body language . Keith doesn't know whether he's grateful for the attempt at levity or annoyed. That's always been Shiro's style -- approach cautiously, ease into harder conversations. At least when leadership wasn't the topic of choice, anyway. But it's so diametrically opposed to Keith's approach in just about everything that the knot in his stomach is tighter for having to feign normalcy first. Taking a deep breath, he folds his arms and shifts his gaze towards a painting on the wall. ]
Better, I guess? [ He takes a tentative step towards Shiro, then decides proximity is probably a bad idea and leans against the doorframe instead. He stays there, quiet for a beat and then: ] Not really my color.
[ It's also pretty obviously not what he wants to say, but if Shiro would rather handle this delicately than with a sledgehammer Keith supposes he can at least match the effort. ]