Shiro likes to think that he's a pretty good judge of character; it's a useful skill when keeping an eye out for some of the younger cadets around the Garrison. He's seen too many of these kids sink under the weight of expectations and their own flaws, and he's made a point of seeking them out, if only to offer whatever help he can.

The first time Shiro meets Keith, he sees a cynical but talented pilot who chooses to stay adrift from his peers and make his own path. There's a quiet fight in him, a spark which could either light his way onwards…or end in him burning out.

Shiro looks at him and sees a kid who has long stopped believing in the flowery tales of happily-ever-after that most people their age are only just growing out of.

So it's almost natural that Keith proves him laughably wrong.

The sound of grunts and an angry shout echo from the hallway on his right, and Shiro stops for a moment, curious. The noises are emanating from Training Room C, which is not unusual in itself, except that it's nearing bedtime.

Most cadets would be on their way back to their dorms from dinner by now. With a packed schedule of classes staggered around their daily training regimen, there's hardly any time for relaxation until the end of the day. Not even the perkiest combatant stuck around for extra training.

He steps into the doorway and pauses, gaze landing on the only figure there. It's a boy, a cadet, probably a year or two younger than Shiro. He's caught in a flurry of movements as he beats up the punching bag set in a corner of the room. His fists are quick, hurling blow after blow against the battered leather, and his leg twists up to follow with a solid kick to the bag. Sweat plasters his dark hair to the curve of his skull and his tank top is soaked.

He's definitely not out of shape, and his form is more than decent, but he's panting hard like he's just run a marathon. Shiro gets the feeling he's been here for a while already.

He clears his throat loudly, and watches the boy flinch and stumble, caught mid-kick. He quickly gathers himself, throwing Shiro a scowl.

"What?" he asks, and his voice is deep with a pleasant rasp. Shiro hates himself for even noticing that and shakes his head a little. No time for needless thoughts, Shirogane.

"Everything alright in here?" he asks.

The boy blinks at him, eyebrows scrunching up as he frowns.

"Uhhh. Yeah?" he says, shortly, and Shiro is amused by the irritated tone.

"Well, you better pack it up, it's almost lights out."

The boy blinks again, and it's apparent that he'd lost track of the hour. He squints at the clock at the far end of the hall and sighs as he spies the time.

"Right. I, uh…thanks, I guess."

"No problem. Do you need help-"

He's already turning away from Shiro by then, hooking his right arm in the crook of his left elbow to stretch the muscles and begin cooling down.

"No, I'm fine. Thanks."

Shiro turns to leave, trusting the boy to pick up after himself, and that's that.

Except then it isn't, and suddenly it's like they're seeing each other all over the place. In the training halls, at the commissary, in the hallways and the simulation rooms; the cadet is everywhere. Shiro can't help but pause each time to give him an awkward nod in greeting, and is absurdly thrilled with each acknowledgement he receives in return.

Somewhere in that process, he learns that the cadet's name is Keith, a first year loner and upcoming pilot who has somehow managed to equally attract the admiration and ire of most his peers. Shiro learns about the trail he's carving, the records he's breaking, speeding his way past every obstacle with no express intention of slowing down.

He'll admit, he's maybe a little impressed by Keith's single-minded drive towards whatever goal he's set. On the other hand, his lone wolf tendencies were not gaining him favours with anyone.

As months pass though, those accidental meetings go from uncertain surprises to pleasant ones. On one such day, they're sitting together in the commissary and chatting about the latest simulation that had been added to the roster, teasing each other on who would be the first to set the top record. Keith is laughing as he pokes at the potato salad on his plate, and that's when Shiro is struck with the sudden realization - they're friends now. He's shaken for a moment, not sure why he's entirely surprised either.

Keith, seated across from him, doesn't seem to notice, and moves on to talk about an assignment he's struggling with. Shiro watches as he pulls out a book and sets it to the side of his plate, the way he licks his thumb to quickly flick through the pages and get to the problem bothering him.

A few deep breaths settles the thing that had been momentarily dislodged in his chest. So, he and Keith were friends now. Shiro leans forward to pull the book towards himself, mostly to distract from the wide smile he knew he was wearing.

It starts out when they begin training together and it keeps evolving, until the two of them hanging out together outside of mealtimes or the training room simply becomes a constant.

Keith seeks him out to complain about Iverson ("So, is he always like that or should I be…'delighted' by his attention?") or to talk about the latest simulation he'd beaten, face bright with excitement for each challenge he surmounted. It's an excitement which Shiro notices he never shares in front of the other cadets.

Shiro catches himself opening up to Keith rather easily, grumbling about his test scores or the mountain of work they'd been assigned ("Death would be better than this, take me now." "Shiro, no.").

Some days they would swap anecdotes on their classmates' antics, ("'Tomfoolery', Keith? Really? Did you really just use that word?") and on quieter days, they would sit comfortably in silence and work together.

And through it all, Shiro keeps watching over him. He knows Keith struggles at times to socialize with others, that the expectations of the Garrison weigh on him despite doing his best to meet them. The Commanders loved playing their games, and Keith seemed to bear the brunt of it in his class, isolated as he was from his fellow cadets.

Shiro would know, when he has those same imposing eyes constantly tracking his every move. He wonders how the younger cadet bears it; worries that he won't be able to weather the severe scrutiny on his own.

They really shouldn't be out after dark, but there's only so many rules that even Takashi Shirogane, supposed role model Golden Boy of the Garrison, can abide by. With exams coming up fast, Shiro just needs a breather for once, and Keith is always happy to oblige his rare days of defiance ("Live a little, would you, Shiro?").

They pick their way through the halls, halting at each imagined sound or shadow, shushing each other with exaggerated hisses and fingers to lips until they make it to the rooftop, sides aching from held-in laughter.

The roof of the dorms is hardly a secret hang-out spot for most cadets, but with everyone busy cramming for their finals, it's completely deserted for once. Keith flops to the ground, back pressed against the cement boundary wall, and Shiro joins him with a soft sigh. They sit together in silence, and Shiro suspects that maybe Keith knew he needed the quiet. Honestly, the baffling clash of Keith's soft and hard edges could be equal parts confusing and endearing. Shiro appreciates them all the same, because they meld up to make Keith who he is, and he's nothing but appreciative of Keith as he is.

It's a pleasant and cool night, a far parallel from worries about the exams or his application for the Kerberos mission, and he fully intends to enjoy it.

He turns towards Keith and sees him gazing up, eyes transfixed on the stars above them.

It's something he's noticed before; the way Keith gets this lost look in his eyes in moments like these, pushing away the need for thought and action to simply be, like he never tends to do otherwise. His classmates have called him broody and emo, a freak at worst, but Shiro knows Keith enjoys the disconnect too much to care what others think of him. Keith had never put much value to what others said, unless…unless it came from Shiro-

"I don't know if I'll ever get there," Keith whispers, and Shiro's thoughts screech to a halt as he tries his best to pretend he hadn't been staring at Keith like a love-sick puppy. Had he missed part of the conversation?

"What?" he asks eloquently, then curses himself. Nice one, Shirogane, real smooth.

Keith doesn't seem to mind though. He looks up at Shiro, dark eyes spangled with reflected stars, and a slight smile on his face.

"Up there, you dork," he says affectionately, and Shiro feels his face warm. "Up in space? It's been a dream of mine since I was kid, and I think I got it from my dad…this need to go up where so few get to go, and just see it for myself. I mean, you know we used to live out in the desert?"

That, he had not known. Out in the desert, really? Shiro wants to ask, but it's the first time he's heard Keith even mention family, the first time he has spoken about himself like this, and he doesn't want to interrupt and cause Keith to withdraw. Keith keeps talking, oblivious to Shiro's dilemma.

"I remember him telling me it was the best view we could afford, financially and...astronomically, I guess. We could see all the stars at night, just stretching out for miles and miles, as far as sight goes. And it made me think…that maybe he was looking for something."

Shiro watches Keith as he speaks, unsure of what to make of his sudden openness. Keith sounds hopelessly wistful, voice unsure and small, like reaching out for a long lost memory and never getting close enough to see it clearly.

"How do you mean?" Shiro asks gently.

Keith blows out a sigh, a hand going up to tug on his hair.

"I don't know, it's just…I can't even remember anymore, maybe it was the way he talked? He always…he always spoke about waiting. I just know we were there for a reason."

Shiro feels a shiver run over him, goosebumps rising on his arms. When he speaks, he chooses his words carefully.

"Is that why you decided to join the Garrison? Because of your dad's…influence?"

Because obsession sounded a tad too rude to describe a man he knows nothing about, especially when it's Keith's father.

"Well. Partially, yeah," Keith replies.

He shrugs, looking away in discomfort and Shiro has the overwhelming urge to wrap him up in a hug. There's more to this story here, more than what he's already revealed, but Shiro will never push him for that. He's content with knowing Keith trusts him enough to speak to him so candidly at all.

To his surprise though, Keith continues.

"I wasn't kidding when I said I've been into space crap since I was a kid. I think I always dreamed of making it up there, of exploring and discovering and making my mark, one way or the other. But mostly, I want to find whatever my dad was looking for. Maybe then he would com-"

He breaks off suddenly, shaking his head. Shiro has a sinking feeling about the end of that sentence, but Keith goes on again, before he can say anything.

"It doesn't matter though. At this point, with all my mistakes and the Garrison getting on my case every time, it feels less and less possible. I guess my dreams are a little wishfu-"

"Keith."

Without thought, Shiro drapes an arm around Keith and pulls him into his side. Keith lets out a noise of surprise, but he settles quickly, curling into his warmth with minimal hesitance. Shiro tries not to think too much of their position. Sure, they've sparred together and bumped fists and hugged each other when the situation called for it. This, on the other hand,...this is something he can't focus on too closely without the risk of his brain melting. Instead, he clears his throat and speaks.

"I don't think I need to tell you this, but I'll say it anyway: you're a talented pilot, Keith."

It's proof of how well they know each other now, that Keith doesn't even interrupt him. His cheeks flush pink, but he lets Shiro continue, waiting for him to finish.

"You know how the Garrison always likes to push their best pilots the hardest, pressurize them until they break and watch how they handle it. It's sick, and I'm definitely not condoning it, but…the fact that they're doing that to you is a sign of just how good you are."

When he chances a glance down, Keith is staring up at him with those dark eyes, concern etched into his furrowed brows.

"Did…did they do that to you?" he asks tentatively, gaze darting over Shiro's face as though he might be able to find physical signs of that strain. Shiro sighs, almost wishing he could lie about this. Keith must have hoped for so much more when he'd first arrived at the Garrison.

"Yeah. They did, and they still do."

Keith frowns at his shoes, clearly distressed by what Shiro has admitted. Shiro nudges his shoulder with his own until he looks up again.

"I'm alright. I'm not letting them get to me," he reassures him.

The younger boy doesn't look appeased though and one of his hands drifts to Shiro's arm almost absently, gripping on to his sleeve. Shiro holds his breath, staring at Keith's fingers as they pluck at the cloth. A few seconds pass before Keith seems to realize what he's doing. He hastily snatches his hand back, blushing dark red and-

Shiro coughs into his fist, and moves on.

"Listen. I know the commanders are giving you a hard time, so I just wanted to tell you this."

Keith still looks a little flushed, but he's listening anyway.

"The only reason I've gotten as far I have is because I had the support of my friends here, and from my family back home. Without them, I probably would have flunked out, easy."

He can see Keith's demeanor drooping already, lips curling into that signature scowl, but Shiro goes on anyway because his friend needs to hear this.

"So you should know that I've got your back, and that you can always talk to me about anything. I'm always here for you, if you need that support."

Keith stiffens beneath his arm, and Shiro fears for a moment that he's made a huge mistake, presumed too much. Keith inhales slowly, and shifts to look at him head-on.

"Is that what we are then?" Keith asks, voice quiet and even, yet filled with so much more than he can identify. "Are we…friends?"

Shiro's first instinct is to answer 'of course', right until Keith slips his fingers through his hand and squeezes.

Shiro's mind goes blank with a resounding oh. Those violet eyes peer up at him, Keith's face set with determination, but also...uncertainty. There's a vulnerable kind of fierceness in the way Keith is looking at him, and Shiro knows that what he says next will not likely break him, but will still be enough to shake his confidence if he isn't careful.

Because this is the wake of it: that this has been brewing between them since the day they'd met in that training room by curiosity and simple chance. Since the day they'd sat together and railed against the Garrison in between bites of mediocre lunch; since the day they began studying together, cheering each other on to finish yet another last-minute assignment; since the day they'd pranked one of the more conceited senior cadets and made their escape, stifling their laughter and praying they wouldn't be caught.

Since the day Shiro had looked up and thought, 'This…this is something precious'.

Keith is still waiting for him, tension thrumming through his shaking fingers. He's already put himself out on this ledge, awaiting...acceptance? Condemnation? Whatever it was, he'd done it. And Shiro can't help but meet him all the way.

Keith goes still when Shiro leans in and kisses him.

He stays frozen for only that moment; then he's shifting forward eagerly, melting beneath Shiro's mouth, and the kiss is hot and soft and perfect. Shiro slips his arms around his waist, pulling him close until they're flush together, chest to chest. He brings a hand up to cradle Keith's jaw and Keith lets him; kisses him back harder, warm lips pressing against the other until they're panting and out of breath, reeling in a pleasant haze. They wind down slowly to longer pecks, Shiro's right hand settling at the small of Keith's back and bringing him even closer.

With one last lingering kiss, Shiro finally pulls away. He's presented with the sight of a disheveled Keith, eyes soft with a shy happiness. Keith huffs a laugh, joyous and half-disbelieving.

And the words come spilling forth before Shiros's even conscious of them.

"You're more than that for me," he blurts out, and he's wearily resigned to the fact that he means every word. "You're a friend, yeah, but you're also so much more. You're important to me, Keith. So whatever happens from here, whatever you decide, I'm all in."

Keith smiles and leans forward to plant a kiss at the corner of his mouth, more self-assured in this action than Shiro would ever have expected.

"Me too," he says, simply.

Shiro feels a flutter in his chest and laughs as well, a strange peace settling deep in his bones.

"I think we'll be alright," he whispers, even if there's no one else there. Still. He wants his words to be for Keith's ears alone.

"I think so too. If you're there with me," Keith replies, ducking his head to bury his face against Shiro's neck.

"You know I am. Always."

Shiro feels Keith nod against his skin and he sighs, contentment filling every part of him.

What could be better than this?

His knees hurt from kneeling on the cold metal floor of the ship. Heart beating wildly, Shiro looks up into narrowed yellow eyes and wonders if he had yearned for too much.

It was wrong. It was all so wrong. Kerberos was a mistake.

Perhaps he had never been meant to touch these skies, to savour the sight of these stars, but he's here now. The skies have reached right back and plucked him from warmth and safety and all that he had known.

Shiro closes his eyes and imagines Keith, imagines him eternally waiting for the return of a ship that would never come home.

'Keith. I'm so sorr-'