Rekindling- Pico x Keith/BF

2- Don't Shoot!

Suddenly, he felt something wet drop on his head, then another, and another. Light flashed through the sky, turning everything a blinding white. Pico looked up to see it was raining seemingly out of nowhere, the thunder so loud it sounded like gunshots. He cursed to himself, feeling tears gather at the corners of his eyes. He'd been increasingly worried when he saw the dreariness outside, the cold promising rain, but had calmed down when the mist had faded away into warmth. He'd been convinced that meant it wasn't going to storm- hell, that was the only reason he wasn't hiding in his room right now. But, of course, on a day like today where things couldn't get any worse he'd been wrong.

The thunder grew louder and more frequent, although it seemed to come at random, which terrified Pico even more. Suddenly he was back in that classroom again, that goddamn classroom, throwing paper balls at the wall in a fit of boredom, the windows casting too bright light onto the waxy floor, the teachers voice melting into the background of his thoughts- and then the gunshots, his arm raised to throw yet another paper ball that caught the bullet instead of his head, and he was bleeding and it hurt so bad and he was fainting and he was waking up and there was so much blood, so much blood-

He was shaken out of his stupor by the feeling of a hand on his shoulder, and the low murmur of Keith's voice, blurred and far away. He couldn't even make out what he was saying, spinning around blindly as more gunshots shook the air, and he was holding a gun in his small, shaky palms and he was shooting a hole through their heads and there were bodies everywhere, arms and legs and lolled over heads like something had tore through them like they were nothing, and she was right in front of him, grinning widely, and he shook with fear and then she towered over him and changed, and he was alone, alone with her corpse and so many others, and you shouldn't have survived, of all people, you useless bitch, you should've saved them but you didn't, and now you're here and they aren't and there's nothing you can do to change it. It's too late for you and it's too late for them. You can hear the gunshots rocketing through the air, and it's because they're coming for you now, just like they should have a long time ago.

Pico shook out of his thoughts to find himself curled in on himself, arms wrapped around his chest and his gun lopsided in his shaky palm. Someone was gripping his hands, and they smelled like lavender soap and honey, their hair drenched by rain. He tilted his head, staring at them in confusion. What were they saying? Why was another person in here? Didn't they know it was dangerous? Unless...he froze in terror, shoving them off of him with a growl. They were the danger. He could hear more guns firing in the distance, and he knew he only had so many bullets in his own. He had to get out of here, he had to get home. Shoving his gun in his belt, he ran, fear coursing through his brain and causing him to run even faster, sneakers slipping through the mud as he became more and more drenched in rain. The shots were rhythmic now, pounding along with his heartbeat and his footsteps and the voice calling after him. Pico was panting heavily, covered in rain and mud and sweat, clanging up the stairs to his apartment and pulling the key out of his pocket with a shaky hand. He'd go inside and he'd finally be safe, and his mother would be here for him and everything would be okay, and she couldn't hurt him now. None of them could. He'd shot them, he hadn't wanted to but he'd shot them, and they couldn't come after him. His breath caught in his throat as his hand slipped on the doorknob, desperate to unlock the door.

Finally, it swung open with a creak and Pico stumbled in, slamming it behind him. He opened his mouth to call out to his mother, but the apartment was dark and empty. For a moment he was confused, and began to panic, wondering if she was out there with them or if she was safe, until he realized. His mother wasn't here anymore, he lived alone. Alone. There was nobody coming after him, there were no gunshots, just thunder and rain. Shaking in a mixture of relief and pain he slid to the floor, gripping the stitch in his side from where he'd been running. Dear god, even here he could hear the thunder, memories of blood soaked clothes and lockers flashing through his mind. Placing his head into his hands, his body began to tremble with the force of his sobs, hot tears running down his cheeks. Of course this had to happen, when he was in front of Keith of all people. Keith, who for one didn't know about the incident that had happened when he'd moved, who had thought he was just being a dick. And Pico had found that relieving- it meant he didn't have to explain anything. But now...now Keith knew something was up, and knowing him he'd stop at nothing to figure out what it was. Pico did his best to take deep breaths, resting his head against the door and trying to stop his hands from trembling. You're safe, you're safe, you're safe, you're safe. He repeated the mantra in his mind like it would wipe all his memories away. He thought he heard a knock at his door but ignored it. Finally, he got up and stumbled over the stray clothes and energy drinks on the floor, the smell of smoke always lingering in the air even though his mother hadn't been here in years. After what felt like forever he made it to his bedroom.

Pico flopped onto his bed, shoving his face into his pillow. He didn't bother taking off his muddy clothes or even his shoes. God, he should've just stayed home today. Now he'd fucked everything up for himself, just like he always did, and had another two people worrying about him for no reason. He turned to his side, pulling his blanket up around his shoulders, slowly kicking off his sneakers in an attempt to make at least one thing easier for him to deal with tomorrow. Sighing, he closed his eyes and let exhaustion sink into him, immediately beginning to feel the lull of sleep. Whatever. The trauma and mess and annoying blue haired boy were something for future Pico to deal with. And something future Pico is going to hate himself for, whispered a small voice in his head. He ignored it. It was easier to ignore it.

He stared at the wall, letting his eyelids sink close and body go limp. It was easier to just sleep.

[woo that was a long one! for those who came here for the description, after losing in a rap battle against Keith it starts storming, and the thunder sends Pico into a panic attack. he eventually runs away from Keith and goes home to wait out the storm.]