Work Text:
Shiro didn’t care to know where he was; he could only focus on the feeling of the damp cloth against his forehead, the water dripping down his face, calming the heat that wracked his whole body. It was his lighthouse in the storm of his mind, one thing he could concentrate on that wasn’t pain, wasn’t confusion, wasn’t the rattle of his lungs. Even the light falling in through his closed lids was like a knife straight to his brain; he was afraid of opening them, of letting the knife twist in his skull. He focused on the blissful cold dabbed against his face, his neck, again and again.
It was almost like he was being cared for and Shiro could do nothing but give himself up to the feeling. He sighed as the cloth was refreshed and returned. It stilled. Shiro pinched his eyes into a pout and pushed his face against the only thing providing him some sort of calm, the porch light guiding him home.
Someone inhaled sharply and Shiro frowned.
Who was that? Shiro was alone, it was just him and that solitary point of cold, which was now being pulled away. Shiro whined in disappointment.
“Kashi…” the voice whispered. Who was Kashi, he wondered. No one had called him Kashi since…
Matt.
Shiro’s eyes shot open and he sat up.
And immediately fell back onto the bed as his entire body was shot through with a shock of pain. He couldn’t hold back the cry as he shut himself against the light once more. Matt was at his side in an instant, the damp cloth back on his forehead as Shiro shuddered through the agony.
“Easy there, Kashi,” he said, “you were pretty banged up when you got here.”
Where was he? He didn’t yet have the mental capacity to answer and instead just whimpered in response; Matt’s return to his nursing provided Shiro his lighthouse.
“Where—” he started, voice hoarse with disuse. He swallowed. “How did I get here?”
Matt hummed thoughtfully.
“You showed up in a flash of blue light. I’m trying not to think to hard about it or my brain will break.”
Shiro almost smiled at that. Black . She was always looking out for him. Maybe he’d gotten injured and she’d sent him home.
“Kashi…” Matt began. He drifted off for a moment and Shiro was pulled into the silence with him. “I thought you were dead.”
The admission was almost like a prayer, under his breath, not meant to be heard by anyone but someone who cared. Shiro swallowed again.
“I’m sorry,” Shiro sighed.
The cloth stopped again and Shiro furrowed his brow. Water dripped down Shiro’s too pale face as Matt gripped the cloth in his tense fist.
“Don’t you dare be sorry,” he growled, “ you are the only reason I’m alive. I am only here because of you, you, you,” he groaned in frustration, “you self-sacrificial shithead! I have been mourning you for almost two years and I thought…” he paused, quieting, “and I thought it was because of me.”
Shiro went to speak, to tell him that Shiro would die for Matt a thousand times over if it meant that he would get to move on. Matt interrupted before he could even start.
“I know, I know, it was you choice, you’d happily die for me, but Kashi,” he let out a breath, “I really really don’t want to live without you.”
With that, Shiro opened his eyes.
The light he was greeted with didn’t twist the knife in his brain like he had expected to. No, instead he opened his eyes to see his lighthouse, his port in the storm.
Matt had aged, they both had. Neither of them were the smooth faced boys that left for Kerberos, what was it, three years ago now? God, it felt like so much longer. His scars were small knicks, one on his eyebrow, one on his cheek. His face had been carved out, sharp jawline finally breaking through the soft shape of childhood. His hair was longer, skin rougher.
His eyes still glowed gold, blazing along with Shiro’s silver.
The sort of confession hung between them as they breathed in tandem. Shiro’s jaw clenched and he pretended not to notice the tear rolling down his nose, sideways onto the pillow. A thousand words hung between them, all the “I love yous” and the the cold nights in the emptiness of space. They felt each and every one of them in that moment.
Shiro sobbed, one great heaving breath that wracked every little ache in his mending body.
“I missed you so much .”
Matt followed, falling over Shiro’s prone form, running his hands down both arms, both flesh and metal. He held Shiro’s face to his, forehead to forehead, nose to nose, as their tears mingled in time.
The kiss was like breathing again; when Shiro closed his eyes, he knew he was safe at home.