How Far I've Come (Keith x Reader)

? Hanging Out; Chapter Twenty ?

Keith looks stressed. He knows you're right, and he can't let you know that he doesn't want you to be. He can protect everyone, if he only tries hard enough. "I miss the old days."

"Which ones?"

"All of them." He finally lets you take his clammy, calloused hand. "I miss when my parents were still alive, and I miss not caring about them when Shiro and I would drive hover bikes instead of doing homework. I miss the Garrison, too, and late nights in your dorm room. We used to have it so easy, Y/n."

"I wonder where it all went wrong." You frown.

Silence absorbs the air for a few minutes.

"You don't talk about your childhood much." Keith mutters, squeezing your hand tighter. You use one of your expert moves, since you studied how to avoid this topic.

"I'll talk about it when it's necessary. You know more about it than anyone else."

"Yes, but you never told me how it all happened. All I know is that you're out of touch. That's it. You know everything about my past, you've seen all of me." He persuades.

"You were willing to share that with me, I'm not looking to share this story anywhere, not even in my journal. It's just a pity party." You push it off, farther and farther towards the edges of Mount 'Lost Topic', but Keith keeps dragging it back up with force.

"I want to know." He says calmly, like a parent who's doing the nice-cop try for 'one more time and you're grounded'. You gulp. This is the only person in the whole universe who could reach down deep, who could break you and drag your darkest secret out of you. "I-It's-"

A single, graceful kiss destroys the edge you were shoving for, pushing you to carry the topic all the way to the summit. "Don't be weird if I cry."

"I won't."

"...Okay."

...

Your childhood was perfect until that day. Like a fun slide that drops you off at hell once you reach the end. Everything was literally sunshine and rainbows, with the way you had your childhood room's walls painted, then something had to come in and paint it all gray. Something evil always ruins whatever is good and bright. Evil and good always have to be at a balance, after all.

"Y/n? Can I talk to you for a moment please?" Your mother asks. There's sadness in her tones, showed by the honey coating she tried to apply to her words. "This is a little serious."

"Oh, okay." An eleven year-old Y/n bounds down a flight of stairs, ready to comfort her mother's thin-walled heart. It's just broken down too easy. "Where's dad?"

"He's getting some things.. and that's what I need to talk to you about {nickname}." She says, slipping back into her old tone of voice. You nod, sitting next to her on the couch. "No matter what happens, I want you to know that I still love you, baby girl."

"Mom, what's going on?"

"Do you like pizza, Y/n?" Mom asks, sighing. She briefly pushes away a used notepad and pen. You nod. "And do you like watermelon?"

"Yes, but I don't understand."

Mom smiles empathetically. "Pizza and watermelon are both great, but when you put them together they just don't mix. That's how dad feels about me, and how I feel about him."