A/N: Hey, guys! I know I shouldn't have written another oneshot, when I'm in the middle of writing Whisper, but I got inspired for this, and had to write it. I hope you enjoy it and I should be updating Whisper in the next week or two! Hope you enjoy!

Knight in Shining Armor

Grief was surrounding me. I felt like it was becoming me. I couldn't focus on anything but getting away from Al, and going to Keith. He was all I needed.

I don't even remember driving to Keith's, but here I was. Parked in his driveway, trying to come up with the best way to confront him. I'm not sure how long I sat there, before I suddenly opened my door. This wasn't something I could think about or rehearse for.

As I neared the front door, I heard the sounds of a guitar and felt myself relax, knowing that it was Keith playing. I knocked gently on the front door, and was relieved to hear his music begin to fade.

"Keith?" I called. At this, the music completely stopped and I felt my heart begin to beat rapidly in my chest as I waited for him to open the door.

But he didn't.

Instead, I heard the lock click before the music started up again. This time, louder. Anger surrounded me just like the grief had and I didn't like it. I wanted this feeling to go away. Forever. But I knew it never would. At least, not for a while. I knocked harder this time, trying to be heard over the music. "Keith. Please come outside."

The music got louder and this time, I banged on the door. "Keith, open the door! Just talk to me…please," I whispered the last sentence, as the tears I had been trying to contain won over.

I stood there for a few seconds, hoping that he would open the door. Even though I knew he probably wouldn't. He had made it clear that he didn't want to talk to me. Wiping the tears off my cheeks, I turned around, not exactly sure what to do. I felt lost.

But then, suddenly, the door opened. And there he was. Keith was standing in front of me, looking as shocked as I felt that he had opened the door.

"Hi," he said weakly.

I didn't bother to reply. Now that he had opened the door, I was so angry at him that I wanted to hit him. Hurt him like he was hurting me. And I almost did, hit him that is, but then I looked at him. Really looked at him. And I couldn't do it.

It when the first time I realized how sick he looked. He had dark circles under his eyes (which on any other day I would've blamed on lack of sleep) and he was pale. The pajama bottoms he was wearing were hanging loosely on his hips, as if he had lost an increasingly amount of weight in a short period of time.

How could I love him and never have noticed this before?

I took in a shaky breath, before looking into Keith's eyes. It seemed to take all he had to not break our gaze. Nervousness was coming off of him in waves, and I could tell he was expecting me to start yelling. To start tearing him apart and break him down.

"Where were you those two weeks?" I whispered.

His face clouded with something. Surprise, I think. Or maybe it was fear. Fear that I had possibly discovered his secret. "What?" he said.

"Those two weeks when you were gone from school. Where. Were. You?"

"Home. I was at home."

As he said this, I felt (if it was even possible) more anger fill me. "Stop lying!" I hated how tears blurred my vision and how I knew he'd be able to tell.

"I'm not lying," he said softly.

"Yes, you are!" I yelled, causing Keith to visibly flinch.

The expression on his face changed to anger. He was getting angry—angry like me. "I'm not lying, Natalie."

At the lack of my nickname, a tear finally slid down my cheek. "Really?" I said sarcastically, trying to mask the tears. "So tell me what you did, at home, for those two weeks."

All the color drained from his face. "N-nothing. Worked on my truck."

Knowing that he wasn't going to tell me the truth, I said, "I saw Al today."

At this, Keith let out a breath of almost defeat. "Oh."

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked softly.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he stated. I could tell her knew what I was talking about. He just wouldn't say it; wouldn't admit it.

"Shut up!" I screamed. He flinched again. "Just shut up! For once, Keith, just tell me the truth!"

"Fine!" he screamed back, surprising me. "I was in the fucking hospital, okay?"

At his admittance, I let out a small sob, because he only confirmed what I had hoped so desperately wasn't true.

He was dying.

"Why didn't you tell me? I could've been there…" My knees were getting weak and I wasn't sure how much longer I'd be able to keep myself up.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "You wouldn't have. At least, not after awhile…"

"How can you say something like that?"

"Because," he said, voice cracking. "If-if you would've seen me like that—sick and so fucking weak, you would've left." I hated how sincere he sounded. Like he truly believed this.

"You don't know me at all, do you?" I asked. "Because if you knew me, you'd know that that I love you and—"

"Don't say it!" he screamed, eyes flashing. "Don't say that you love me, because you don't. You can't."

"You have no right to tell me how I feel. I love—"

"Stop it," he growled. "Just stop. Don't you get it? I. Don't. Love. You. So none of this matters, okay? None of it. I told you I wanted to forget about it, so please do me a favor and leave."

"I don't believe you," I whispered. "I—"

"Leave, Natalie, just leave."

"Fine!" I hissed. I lowered my voice before saying, "Then I guess this is goodbye…"

When I got home, the first thing I did was take the pieces of the carburetor that were on the floor and toss them into my trashcan. I didn't want to see them again. Then, I dug through a box next to my nightstand, taking out all of the notes he had written me, and tearing them apart before throwing them away. I kept tearing things apart, throwing away everything that reminded me of him. Until I found it.

The picture.

The picture of Keith and me at the sixth grade play.

As I stared at it, a memory suddenly came to me and I let it fill me up.

...

It was the last dress rehearsal before the play and everything was going wrong.

She was the worse princess…ever.

She tried to say her lines again, but the more times she tried, the worse she was getting and the more annoyed her cast members got. She tried her hardest to not let any tears fall. Tears meant she was weak.

Maybe she should just quit? It would be so much better. She could go home, curl up in bed, and read one of her favorite fairy tales and forget about what a horrible actress she was.

But she couldn't; she couldn't quit. She had never quit anything in her whole twelve years.

"Okay, Natalie," spoke up Mrs. Brown. "One more time. The last scene. You're doing fine."

Liar, she thought. She was horrible. Instead of voicing this, however, she only nodded and began attempting the scene again. She hadn't even gotten a few lines in when the prince, Joseph, angrily crossed his arms against his chest and glared at her while saying, "I don't wanna act with her anymore! She's the worst actress ever, and she's not even pretty enough to be a princess!"

His words hit her like a punch to her stomach and she felt shameful tears blur her vision. Quickly, she ran off the stage, not wanting to have everyone see her crying.

She just wanted to find a place where no one would find her. She was lucky and found a small classroom that was still open. She found a nice spot on the floor next to some books and as soon as she sat down she began to cry; she couldn't help it.

It hadn't been more than five minutes, when she heard someone sit next to her. She didn't look up, not wanting to let the person know that she was crying.

"I think you're pretty enough to be a princess," said a boy's voice—a voice that Natalie didn't recognize. "Are you all right?" he asked, after a few seconds and she still hadn't spoken.

"I-I'm sorry. I know it's stupid to cry, b-but I can't help it."

"Who told you it was stupid to cry?" asked the boy.

She lifted her face from her knees, but still wouldn't look at him. "I dunno…no one really. But I just think it's weak."

"It's not weak," the boy started. "My dad told me."

"Really?" asked Natalie. She was getting curious now. And, plus, if a boy didn't think it was weak to cry, it was okay, right?

"Yup."

"Have you cried before?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yeah," replied the boy. She didn't like how the boy's voice became distant and sad. "When my mom died. But it helped, you know."

At the boy's statement, she turned to look at him, not caring that there were tears still running down her cheeks. He was dressed up in one of the Russian soldier costumes, and she immediately felt guilty that she didn't know his name. She stared at him for a moment; he looked to be her age, had brown hair, and green eyes that sparkled almost like emeralds.

She didn't look into them too long, as the boy quickly averted his eyes and with a blush on his cheeks said, "I brought you these…"

He handed her a juice box and a cookie. "Thanks," she smiled, quickly opening her juice box and taking a sip. "You got my favorite flavor, thanks."

He gave Natalie, what she thought was the best grin she had ever seen, before taking a sip of his own drink. They ate their snack in silence for awhile, before Natalie turned to him and said, "Did you really mean what you said earlier?"

"Absolutely," he said. When she didn't say anything, he added, "Don't listen to what Joseph says. He's just upset that he keeps messing up, and that he's an awful prince."

Natalie let out a tiny giggle before saying, "Yeah, he is pretty bad, isn't he?"

"The worst," said the boy. "You should go back there and show him that what he said didn't bother you."

"I don't know…"

"Don't give up just because of what he said."

Natalie let his words sink in and wondered how a twelve-year-old could be so insightful. Especially a boy. "You're right," she began, "I should go back and show them that I can be the princess." She stood up instantly, ignited with a passion so strong that she wanted to run back to everyone and show them that she could do it. That she wasn't an awful princess. "Aren't you comin'?" she asked the boy, when he didn't proceed to stand up.

He shrugged. "Soon."

"Okay," she smiled at him once more before quickly making her way out of the room. She was halfway down the hall when she realized something. Running back to the room, she slammed open the door and when she caught sight of the boy she asked, "What's your name?"

She was surprised to see how shocked he looked at such a normal question. "It's Keith…"

"Well, Keith, I think you're the best!"

He gave her a small, unconvinced smile. "I'm just a Russian soldier, you know."

"Not to me you aren't," she smiled at him. "To me, you're my knight in shining armor." She loved the way her words caused his eyes to shine and a grin to grace his face. "Bye, Keith, I'll see you later, okay?"

And before he had the chance to respond, she was running down the hall, ready to show her cast members that she could be the princess Keith thought she was.

...

As the memory faded, I stood up quickly, grabbing my trashcan and hastily taking out the stuff I had thrown away. I set the ripped pieces of the notes on my desk, ready to tape them back together. I was going to fix what I had broken. Just as I found my tape, though, I knew that no matter how much I tried to mend the pieces I had of Keith back together, I needed to mend him and me first.

Even though Keith had told me he didn't love me, I knew, deep down, that he was only saying those words to prevent himself and me further pain.

When I got to his house, it was dark and Keith's dad's truck was there. I knocked quietly and when his dad opened the door I said, "Hi…I need to talk to Keith."

"I'm sorry. He's not feeling well."

"Yeah…It's just…I need to see him…I'm sorry." Without waiting for him to let me in, I pushed passed him.

I had just placed my hand on the doorknob of what I assumed was Keith's room when I felt someone gently grab my arm. I glanced at Keith's dad expectantly. "Don't…don't hurt him, okay?" he whispered.

"Don't worry," I whispered. "I won't." His statement took me a bit off guard, and I had to compose myself, before I opened Keith's door.

His back was to me, so he didn't see that it was me who entered. He angrily tossed a magazine that he was reading on the ground, and as he turned around yelled, "I told you! I'm not feeling—" As soon as he saw me, he suddenly stopped.

"You know what I think?" I started, as I walked towards him. "I think that you're scared. You're scared to say how you really feel, because you don't want to hurt. And you don't want to hurt me either. You're scared that people are going to leave you when they find out who you really are. But you know what?" We were close enough to each other now that our foreheads were almost touching.

"What?" he whispered, and I could tell he was dangerously close to crying.

"I don't care. Hurting, it's part of life. It makes you know that you're alive. And I'd rather love you completely, than be with someone where I don't feel. And with you, Keith, I feel alive." Tears were running down his cheeks now, and he was taking in deep breaths, as if he was trying desperately to stop them. I wrapped my arms around his lower back and pulled him close to me; he stumbled into me.

At this, our foreheads touched. "You can tell me you don't love me," I whispered. "But I don't believe it. I know you love me, because if you didn't love me you wouldn't care, and you do care. If you didn't love me, you wouldn't be crying, and if you didn't love me you wouldn't feel anything."

He raised his hands so they were cupping the sides of my face. "Partner," he breathed. "I'm so sorry. And you're right." It was hard to understand him, as his words blended with his tears. "I-I am scared. Really scared, but not matter how hard I try, I can't help but love you. And-and I don't care anymore. I want to feel; I want to feel alive with you. I'm going to let myself love you."

I let out a small, relived sob before he brought his lips to mine. Our tears mingled together. The kiss was perfect, because it was real. It was filled with love and passion but also fear and sadness. But most of all, it was filled with life.

As we parted, I stared into Keith's eyes, and I saw the love he had for me spilling out of them. I thought about us, and about the sixth grade play, and how we had fallen in love.

Unlike most girls, I had never dreamed of a prince riding a white horse, and doing something brave and stupid like saving me from a dragon; instead, I always dreamed of someone real. And Keith, he gave me exactly that, which is why, no matter what, he would always be my knight in shining armor.

A/N: Thanks to Purple Shamrock 17 and m81770 for being amazing betas! Hope you enjoy it and please review!