Chapter Text
“You know if you fall and crack your head open, I’ll be the one in trouble, right?”
The stool wobbled dangerously but Keith held firm, the grip of his bright red racecar crocs acting as the only thing between survival and a trip to the emergency room. Not that he cared. He scrambled up onto the countertop, clinging to the cupboard door for extra balance.
“Doesn’t matter, ‘cus I’m not gonna fall. I won’t get you in trouble.”
Shiro watched him rummage through the high shelf, past the teabags and instant coffee like a seasoned sniffer dog until he honed in on the hidden jar of cookies he’d been looking for. Keith hopped down with a triumphant and sharp toothed grin, hopping down from the counter and waddling over to Shiro. He waited for his babysitter to accept the large glass jar before clambering into Shiro’s lap, settling down and beaming up at him. Already used to the general chaos and mayhem of a hyped up six year old, Shiro allowed him one stolen cookie for his efforts.
Keith held his prize in both hands, taking a big toddler bite and learning forwards to stare at the scattered textbooks on the kitchen table.
“What’y’doin?”
“What are you doing.” Shiro corrected. “It’s math homework.”
“Why?”
“It’s due tomorrow and I forgot to do it yesterday.”
“Why?”
“I had football practice, like every Tuesday. That’s why you go to the fire station on Tuesdays.”
“Why?”
“Because my Obaan says it’s important to be active.”
“Why?”
“Because -”
Shiro cut himself off, scowling down at Keith when he realised he’d been tricked. Keith was sporting his best ‘you just got tricked by a six year old’ smile, complete with chocolate smears and cookie crumbs on his face.
“You know what? I’m putting the cookies in the basement. On the scary spider shelf, in the dark.”
Keith’s face fell so fast that Shiro burst into laughter, giving him a big apology squeeze.
“That’s mean! That’s so mean!”
“Yeah, I’m super mean,” Shiro agreed, rubbing his knuckles into Keith’s hair while the young boy squawked, “so you should do what I tell you, or else I’ll put you on the spider shelf instead. And I’ll season you with flies.” Keith sulked like he was getting paid for it, slumping down in Shiro’s lap and nibbling his cookie to bless his babysitter with 40 seconds of blissful silence.
Well, maybe 39. It was still a new record for peace and quiet.
“Are you sure you have to do your homework?”
“If I want a good job when I grow up, yeah. There’s loads of math in space, and they don’t let you be an astronaut unless you know it all.”
Keith screwed his face up even harder and finished his last mouthful of cookie, reaching out and needing both hands to grab the corner of the heavy textbook and heave it shut. Shiro winced at the chocolate smeared over the cover and the explanation he’d have to give his teachers tomorrow. Eventually, they were going to start asking if he had some kind of chocolate addiction - granted, he was thirteen, and all thirteen year olds had some sort of sugary addiction, but Shiro didn’t want to be accused of another man’s crimes!
Squirming and twisting, Keith wriggled until he was facing Shiro and directing the full force of his stubborn little expression up at him.
“When I’m big,” He began, “I’m gonna be a rockstar. And I’ll be super super rich, and we’ll go to space together, and you won’t ever have to do homework ever again because I’ll get a servant to do it for you. And you’ll live with me always, and I’ll have a big field so you don’t have to go to football.” At Keith’s age, he had a different career in mind every week. Last month he’d spent over an hour showing Shiro exactly where he was going to put his future bone collection (trophies from his life as a pirate). Before that, he was a rabbit living in a hole in the ground that would only pop his head out if Shiro hand fed him carrots. Shiro was glad Keith had settled for playing pretend for now, although it wasn’t too pleasant to be told exactly where his skull would be displayed over the fireplace. At least the bunny game meant he ate some vegetables, even if he ended up covered in dirt and grass.
Shiro pulled a crumpled tissue from his pocket, scrubbing the chocolate off Keith’s giggling face. “If you want to be rich, you’ve got to do your homework too.”
Keith shook his head hard, fluffy curls smacking into Shiro and causing the chocolate to spread around even more. “Nu uh. That’s just the boring rich people. I’m gonna be a cool rich people. When we get married, I’ll be a rockstar, and rockstars don’t have to do math or homework or anything. They just have to sing and I’m good at that! You said so!”
“I did say that. But even singers need math.”
“Nu uh! My butler will do all our math. That’s the point.”
Shiro leaned back in the chair and pretended to consider it, even making a particularly convincing humming sound. Keith had been insisting they would get married ever since he started babysitting. He’d hugged his leg tight, stared up at him with shocking intensity, and insisted that Shiro was his new husband and mate. His old husband, a sock puppet hippo with one ear, was devastated at the news. Mr Kogane said the divorce had only gotten messier when Keith had to be put in time-out for using bad words against his ex.
“I don’t know, Keith…” He mused, squishing Keith and squeezing until he started giggling, “Math is still pretty important. You’d have to count all your cars and houses. How are you supposed to be a millionaire if you don’t know how much money you have? A million is a big number. You can’t make the butler do it all.”
Keith opened his mouth, then closed it again. He looked down at Shiro’s arms wrapped around him, and at the textbooks on the table. The grumpy little scrunch of his nose was almost identical to a kitten Shiro saw on an animal shelter advert last week, its little face twisted up and conflicted between indignation and confusion.
“Nu uh.” He repeated, firm. “Because I’m marrying you. And you know math, so you can count it all for the butler!”
Shiro just rolled his eyes and opened the textbook again, angling it up so he could keep working with Keith in his lap. “Well, I want an equal marriage. So buckle up and help me with these questions, or else I’ll hide the cookies again.”
—-----------
Unfortunately, Shiro never seemed to run out of math homework.
The pen between his teeth had been gnawed practically into splinters by the time Matt burst into the little cafe, hustling to their corner table and dropping his satchel on the table.
“You’re late again.”
Matt just shrugged and sunk into his chair, grabbing the lukewarm coffee Shiro had bought for him fifteen minutes ago.
“I’m always late. It’s part of my irresistible charm.”
Shiro groaned and slumped forwards, cradling his second surgary latte in one hand. His only hand, technically. The duo had been friends ever since Shiro moved into their apartment block at 14 and Matt climbed through his window to see if there was really another kid in the building. It was the first floor, thankfully, but he’d still fallen through and cut his cheek open on Shiro’s desk. Shiro made him a cup of tea and put a Hello Kitty plaster over his cheek, and the two had been stuck like glue ever since.
Matt had even dropped out of school when Shiro’s illness got worse and he was diagnosed with aggressive cancer, throwing away his scholarship and insisting if they didn’t graduate together, they wouldn’t graduate at all.
“You don’t have charm, you have rich parents. That’s why all your alphas put up with your terrible humour.”
It was a testament to their friendship that Matt just snorted with laughter and pushed Shiro’s notebook out of the way to make room for his laptop.
“Then you’re about to be one happy non-alpha. Feast your eyes on these babies!” Matt opened his laptop with a flourish, drumming on the table to add a little extra pizazz. Shiro was ready to curl away before he could look at the screen, protecting his eyes from whatever horrors Matt had managed to dredge up from the darkest corners of the internet.
Thankfully, it wasn’t another gaggle of firefighters surrounding a hapless twink Omega that they’d discovered half stuck in a washing machine.
“Tickets?”
Matt groaned, shoving the laptop farther forwards as if Shiro had suddenly become short sighted and only needed to lean in closer to be impressed. “Tickets to the best band in the world, Shiro. The Blades of Marmora! Come on, give me some enthusiasm, I feel like I’m throwing notes at a blow up doll.” He tapped the keyboard, cueing an animation of balloons and little trumpets to dance across the screen.
“I’m sure they are, but I don’t know them.”
Flopping back in his seat with another, longer and louder groan, Matt smacked his forehead and draped himself over his chair like the overdramatic Princess Shiro knew he’d always been.
“You can bring an old man to the internet, but you can’t teach him culture. The things I do to keep you hip and modern…”
Shiro took a long sip of his coffee while Matt lamented, silently wondering if it was too late to change co-authors. Unfortunately, he and Matt had done every step of University together - reapplying once Shiro had lost his arm and gone into remission, choosing an apartment together, having Matt registered as a carer so they could avoid daily nurse visits for his condition. They’d even had their first heats together, curled up like sweaty cats and sleeping for a week straight. No matter how much they annoyed each other, they were stuck together.
Matt flicked Shiro’s forehead and scowled up at him.
“You can’t space out when I’m giving you the gift of a lifetime! Come on, Shiro. I know you’ve always wanted to go to a concert. And these are super exclusive, totally impossible to get, extra special VIP tickets. We’ve got front row seats, a fully accessible backstage tour if you need your wheelchair, and -” Matt rummaged through his bag, pulling out three energy drinks and a toy chameleon in a hawaiian shirt before he brandished the ear defenders with a triumphant ‘huzzah!’
Humouring his friend with an interested hum, Shiro reached for the defenders and turned them over in his hand. His own pair had been broken a month ago, when he slipped in a farmers market and cracked them against an apple stall. Better them than his head.
“I don’t know. We’ve got our deadline coming up, and I want more data from the planetarium before we finish the final report. There’s no time to watch some band.”
Matt leaned forwards and moved the ear defenders to clasp Shiro’s hand in his own, giving his sweetest and most Omega-ish whine.
“Pretty pretty please, Shiro? Everyone is coming, my sister is the only Alpha there and she’s basically a baby oompa loompa. Without our biggest friend, we’ll probably die in the woods to some serial killer with a sexy mask and a big, not sexy knife. We need you to scare them off!” Shiro gave Matt a look. He’d seen those puppy eyes a hundred times and they only worked some of the time.
“Firstly, I’m still an Omega, no matter how big I am. Secondly, I can’t climb stairs without help. If we were attacked I would be the first to go down. And thirdly, the show is in the middle of the city. There’s barely any weeds, let alone woodland.”
Matt picked up his drink just to wave it around for extra effect, splashes coming dangerously close to the laptop and papers.
“Fine, so we’re murdered in a dark alleyway, like that’s any better. You’re still the biggest and scariest guy we have. Are you seriously going to leave your friends alone in the big city? What if we’re separated? What if I’m trapped by a scary pack of Alpha’s with sharp teeth? Do you want to miss out on a great night like that?”
How had his eyes not rolled right out of his head after nineteen years of friendship? Shiro watched Matt daydream about his Alpha gangbang fantasies, looking down at their work. If he refused to go, Matt would probably give his ticket away and insist he hadn’t really wanted to see them. He would spend the night on the sofa with Shiro, being unsociable and working on their thesis while their friends enjoyed the once in a lifetime opportunity.
It was only one night. One concert to make his friend happy. And they’d done so much work already, they were bound to meet their deadline whether he spent the night writing or not.
Shiro looked at the tickets again, dated for two weeks.
“You’re buying all the snacks.”
Matt beamed. “And I’ll get us all room service. We’ve got a hotel so we don’t have to cope with traffic.”
Offering a hesitant smile of his own, Shiro resigned himself to his fate.
—-------------
It took a week for Shiro to have another afternoon off, free from planned study sessions or TA assignments. Matt was a guest lecturer that day, promoting Holt Industry’s placements and scholarships to the new Freshers. Shiro had the little flat to himself.
There was always extra studying to be done. The dishes were clean and the laundry was put away, but they hadn’t vacuumed since the flour experiment last month. Did they still have a vacuum?
Shiro flopped back against his bed with a heavy sigh, staring up at the glow in the dark stars dotted over his ceiling. A nap sounded good about now. Actually, a nap sounded like the perfect way to spend an evening free of Matt’s noise. He was in his underwear before he could convince himself into something more productive, sprawled over his sheets and opening his phone to find a soothing podcast to sleep too. Ocean noises, rainstorms, violin and piano… Shiro scrolled listlessly, pausing when one of Matt’s playlists came up. The woes of using a joint account. He was fully prepared to ignore it until he read the title;
‘FOR SHIRO: CONCERT PREP! FOR SINGALONG!’
Shiro didn’t bother hiding his snort of laughter, rolling onto his stomach and opening the playlist to see a top hits collection from the Blades of Marmora. He might as well see what awful techy mess he was getting himself into. He set the playlist to shuffle and slipped his earbuds on, hugging his pillow as the first song started to play.
It wasn’t anything like the expected mashup of screeching electrics and obscure operatic howling.
It was nice.
Really, really nice.
Shiro reached for his new pair of ear defenders, slipping them over the buds and letting his eyes slip closed. The rest of the world fell silent with one fell swoop, leaving nothing but the music filling his head and seeping into his bones.
Whoever the main singer was, they were beautiful. They had to be with a voice like that. It was rough and honest, every word burning with years of struggle and desperate, longing sorrow. Two years ago, Shiro had travelled to the NASA Goddard Institute for a term and gotten to listen to some of the first recorded sound waves discovered outside their planet. The thrums and echoes were the whale calls of the universe, all encompassing but still painfully alone. Desperate to find something that understood it’s endless, haunting song.
Starlight,
I will be chasing a starlight
Until the end of my life
I don't know if it's worth it anymore.
Shiro couldn’t quite tell if it was supposed to be a sad song or not. Could someone sing anything but sadness, with the weight this singer was clearly carrying? It made his heart ache with the memories of the song of the universe echoing through the galaxies with no one to hear it. Anyone else would assume he’d finally lost it and gone mad, but Shiro knew that voice. It pulled at him in such a familiar way, a connection he’d lost years ago.
I’ll never let you go
If you promise not to fade away
Never fade away.
He’d soothed that sorrow before. Held it close and protected it from the storms outside, whispering comfort and promises until they could fall asleep.
Shiro opened his eyes to pull his phone closer, staring down at the screen. The Blades of Marmora. The album cover was a picture of some kind of sword, splattered with blood and abandoned in the sandy desert. He was typing the name in without a second thought, only pausing to tap ‘main singer’ after it.
Because he knew that voice. Back when it was brighter, younger, filled with hope and love. Back when those sorrowful cries could be comforted by a tight hug and a little company.
The images loaded, and Shiro was unable to tell if it was the bright lights or the picture itself making his eyes sting.
Long, shaggy hair. Dark eyes burning with a lifetime of hurt hidden behind a sharp toothed smile. There was a new long scar over his cheek, brushed with makeup to hide some of the tecturing but not covered completely.
He was different. So much older now, marked with experiences Shiro couldn’t even begin to imagine.
But it was Keith.
Shiro stared down at the phone and pulled it closer in case it might swirl and morph into someone else, a stranger. He could turn it any which way, squint and shift and zoom in closer, but the image picture didn’t change. That was the Keith he babysat nearly every night, the kid that sat on his shoulders to catch falling leaves and pretend to be a long-necked dinosaur. Shiro had seen him as family, as brothers. Even after all these years.
He’d grown up beautifully.
Sitting up and pressing his back against the wall, Shiro only had to wait a few minutes after texting Matt an ‘SOS’ for his phone to start ringing.
“Are you on the floor?!”
Shiro snorted with slightly hysterical laughter. “I didn’t fall. I’m not hurt, I’m fine. This is an emotional emergency.”
Matt whistled through the phone, clearly walking to a quieter place to talk properly now he wasn’t racing home to help.
“Well, you know I love a good philosophical discussion - or any excuse to get out of that meeting. I felt like my brain was going to melt out my ears. Are you freaking out about the thesis?”
“It’s not the thesis.” Shiro almost wished it was. At least he would feel a lot less like a coward. “It’s the singer, Matt. I knew him.”
Matt made a confused little sound. “I told you he’s really popular. You’ve probably heard his songs in malls or films.”
“No, I really knew him - I used to be his babysitter, before I moved. We were… he was like my little brother. I didn’t think I’d ever see him again.”
Shiro sat in silence for a painfully long minute, knees tucked against his chest as he pressed himself in the corner.
“Seriously? Keith Kogane is the kid you used to talk about?”
“Yeah. He was six, I think I was thirteen, it’s so stupid to be freaking out. He’s not going to have any idea who I am, I don’t think I can look at him and not say anything! I’ll look like some stalkerish creep, he’ll put out a restraining order and I’ll be assassinated by one of his superfans.”
Matt took a moment to process, scuffing his foot against the wall with a thoughtful hum. The longer he was quiet, the more Shiro spiralled, until he slid onto the floor like the miserable old slug he truly was inside. Or maybe a snail with a cracked shell, or a sad street dog with no tail. He’d have to ask Matt for some more creative (and perhaps less depressing) examples later.
He never should have left his house. Never should have left his room. The Holts had already threatened to steal his bank details and essentially pay him for keeping Matt out of trouble, if he quit university and lived off rice he could afford to marinate in bed for a good few years.
“Well-” Matt began.
“And I think all his songs are about me!”
Silence again.
Shiro groaned, dropping his phone on his chest to press his palm into his temple. “Which makes me sound even crazier, doesn’t it?”
“How do you think his songs are about you…?” Matt was slow and careful, like Shiro was a frightened deer ready to bolt into the woods at any moment and never be seen again.
He sent the most obvious songs over, pointing out specific lines or words that practically threw him back into his past. And Matt listened to it all as he steadily changed his tune from ‘my friend is having a psychotic breakdown’ to ‘my friend might be crushed on by a celebrity.
“Holy shit, dude.” He sounded breathless and delighted, with a distinctive thump that Shiro recognised as smacking the wall. “Holy shit! This is amazing!”
“It’s amazing for him.” Shiro agreed, still lying flat on the floor. “He had the biggest little heart, and so many dreams. I always knew he’d do something amazing.”
“Amazing for him, sure, but more amazing for you! This will be the reunification of the century. It’s gonna be amazing, and you’ll get us tickets to every concert until you have a messy celebrity breakup on live TV. That’s modern day soulmates.”
Sitting up with an incredulous splutter, Shiro rattled the phone like the vibrations might ebb down the line and shake some sense into Matt on the other side.
“We are not - he was six! I was thirteen! I want to see him again, sure, but just to - just to see how he’s doing. That’s it.”
“Are you telling me you don’t think he’s hot?”
His cheeks flushed pink. It was a baldfaced lie to say that Keith hadn’t blossomed, the sharp jawline and cheeky smile practically burnt into the eyes of fangirls world wide. But Shiro was 33, a full grown man in the middle of his PhD. He didn’t fangirl.
“I’m not saying he’s not attractive. I’m saying you watch too many bad dramas.”
“I watch just enough crime dramas, making me uniquely qualified to guide my sweet baby bird into his new beautiful lovenest.”
“There is no lovenest, and I’m not your baby bird - are you even listening to me?”
“Nope!” Already, Shiro’s phone was pinging with various celebrity gossip websites Matt was sending to him, “Come on, I’m coming home.”
“Aren’t you helping your parents out today? I’m not letting you avoid responsibilities to play love guru, Matt. You have to do your job.”
Matt groaned, loud and suffering. “I already did all the fun parts. This big media company is trying to set one of their stars up with a mechanics internship, something like that. Dad wants them to work with him personally. They’re actually the same place that manages the Blades of Marmora, that’s how I got us the tickets. I only came to talk to college kids, not smooze with boring managers in boring suits. I need this, Shiro, come on. Give me some joy.”
Shiro pushed onto his feet, heading into the kitchen to start dinner for them both. He didn’t have a chance of convincing Matt out of it, not now while his engines were running. All Shiro could do was pray the humiliation didn’t trigger a heart attack and kill him for good.
“Or you can come home and we can work on our thesis.”
“Shiro. My love. My brother. My Omega in waiting. There is something much more important than our thesis now.”
“What is possibly more important than our thesis?!”
“Finding the best jeans to show off your ass, obviously.”
—-----------------
Smoke swirled through the air in a lazy ballet, twisting and curling from thin trails to faded clouds as they rose higher into the night sky. It didn’t matter how clear the sky might be or how promising the forecast was that morning. The pollution of the bustling city below made the wisps of smoke the closest thing to stars that Keith would be seeing tonight.
“Here.”
He accepted the joint between calloused fingers, taking a deep breath and blowing it out with a tired sigh.
“How much time do we have?” He asked, numbly staring at the sky like it might reveal the hidden galaxies if he squinted enough.
“Ten minutes. Fifteen, if you don’t care about a lecture before we go on.”
“We’ll get one anyway. Might as well push our luck.” Keith took another hit before giving it back, watching his bassist focus more on blowing smoke rings than actually enjoying the few moments of peace they had.
“Not like your old lady will find us up here,” Regris yawned, waving the joint through the air like brandishing a paintbrush, “Unless she meant it when she said she put a tracker in your new earrings.”
Keith rolled his eyes and scowled, reaching up to tug at one of his gauges. After all, who didn’t enjoy a birthday present with an added threat or more constant monitoring?
“I threw ‘em out just in case. Not like she’s actually noticed.” He stretched, cracking his knuckles and rolling his neck. “Wouldn’t put it past her to put a microchip in my neck or something. After all, if I’m not playing or changing my entire career to something stable, I’m wasting my life. She’s started bugging me about Omegas too. I don’t get why she bothers me so much about it.”
Shrugging and crossing his legs, Regris’s boot tapped against the roof with rhythmic thunks. “You’re twenty six, man. Most Alphas have at least a girlfriend by now. Especially horned up hotheads like you.”
Keith shot him a sharp glare. “She’s middle aged, and I don’t see any Omegas.”
“Maybe she’s lost her chance or something. And she doesn’t want you to turn out like her. She’s lonely, the band is all she has, she’s probably repressed or something. And she wants better for her kid.”
“I’m nothing like her. I already have my mate. I’m just waiting to find him again. I didn’t leave and never look back.”
Regris raised a brow and handed the joint back, closing his eyes to relish the chilly air. Keith had been stubbornly insisting on that ever since he met the other band members, the group pushed together by Krolia’s meddling hands (the band was now Keith’s best friends and closest family, but he would never admit it). They were in some little roadside diner in the middle of the night, ‘bonding’ just like she’d asked, and Keith had informed them that he wouldn’t be bringing any Omega’s back to the hotels or trailers. He had one. He didn’t know where he was or what he looked like now, but he would find him again someday. Eventually, it started to sound less like a long lost brother and more like his Canadian boyfriend that went to another high school and didn’t have any social media. Nothing but a name.
Takashi Shirogane.
Unfortunately, Takashi Shirogane wasn’t an uncommon name, especially when Keith didn’t even know what country he was living in.
“I know, dude.” Regris sat up, watching Keith finishing the joint with a grumpy cough. “We all know. That’s why all your songs sound like a sad whale. What’s that whale, the super sad one?”
“52 Blue. And I’m not a fucking whale.” He cleared his throat, grimacing and thumping his chest.
“You’re totally a whale. But you’re our favourite widdle whale.” Regris cooed and ruffled his hair, leaning forwards to peer over the edge at the huge crowd below. The line stretched for miles, chanting and singing and unpacking some overnight tents. Thankfully, they were too busy buzzing between themselves to notice the two band members on the slightly precarious roof.
“Think your Omega might be down there? Maybe he’s holding a book and hiding in the back, waiting for you to notice his big brown eyes and sweet cupcake scent. He won’t notice you, but you’ll notice him, then you can buy him from his parents to pay his debts and keep him in the tour bus. But he’s gonna have to sleep on your bed, and I’m not taking him on walks if you get lazy - ow!” Keith’s steel tipped boot collided with Regris’s ass, sending him falling on his face with a new boot print over his nice leather trousers.
“Fuck off, you dickhead! Stop reading fanfiction and actually pay attention at practice for once.” Regris pouted but didn’t tease anymore, giving Keith a moment of peace.
Somehow, the lines were getting longer and longer, latecomers arriving in waves to shove against the superfans that had been waiting for hours. Shiro hadn’t been a fan of big crowds or noise when he was a kid, insisting instead that he preferred to hang out with Keith. Whilst that might have been a lie to make him feel less guilty about Shiro constantly turning down parties and invites, he really seemed to enjoy peace and quiet back then. But if he was down there, where would he be? Maybe he really would be tucked into the corner, hiding from the big speakers and leaning over the grounds. Or, in some of Keith’s more far fetched fantasies, he’d be jammed in the front row and beaming up at the stage, knowing exactly who Keith was and ready to jump into his arms for the rest of their life together.
Shiro would be beautiful under the stage lights, practically glowing underneath the kaleidoscope of colours. He didn’t technically know what Shiro would look like today, but he’d fantasised about it enough that he wouldn’t be surprised no matter who he turned out to be.
He could be tall, short, thin, fat, nothing would change the heart that Keith had fallen in love with. However time had aged him, he would be the most dazzling man to grace the stadium.
“It doesn’t matter, anyway. He could be at the end of the universe, and I’d still find him. As many times as it takes.”