Chapter Text
Keith had a wishlist.
It wasn’t necessarily the most epic of wishlists, wasn’t filled to the brim with wants for material items like clothes or video games. It was just simple things he wanted, things he hoped to happen to him in his lifetime, having been started back when he was seven.
Yes, the soft, wrinkled, folded, faded and ripped piece of paper in his pocket was eleven years old. He could remember sitting in the living room of one of the first foster families he could actually recall, the midday’s summer sun falling through the blinds in slants. The TV had been playing quietly, his foster mom at the time having set it up for him before going to the kitchen to make snacks. Keith had been sitting on the floor, his knees digging into the plush carpet while his hands played over the polished brown wood of the coffee table in front of him, covered with printer paper and a spilled carton of crayons.
He can still remember his reason for starting it. He’d come to really love the foster parents he’d been with, a couple who’d stuck with him for longer than most did, and a fierce kind of longing had filled him to the brim.
Sitting in front of that table and full of determination, Keith had grabbed a red crayon and written WISHLIST across the top of the page in sloppy, kid-printed letters. Under it, he’d written a single item: get adopted.
At that point in Keith’s life, it’d been the only thing he’d ever wanted. To have a home he’d known he would keep, parents he’d be able to call his own. Which, of course, was why he’d been heartbroken when he’d eventually been moved to another family, just like always. He’d taken his wishlist with him, had folded it up and shoved it into his pocket for the first time, not knowing he’d keep it and add to it as time passed.
Now, his list had grown and expanded, covering both sides. Some items were written in minuscule print, different bullet points shoved in sections of available space, others written sideways up and down the page. All over there were things crossed out, items he’d managed to accomplish by now.
He’d crossed out that very first bullet, get adopted, nearly four years ago now. And subsequently, he’d been able to cross off many, many more. Have someone use male pronouns for me. Cut my hair short. Get a binder. Go on T.
His life had changed for the better, so many great things happening all at once it’d felt too good to be true. Keith had been so convinced there’d been a mistake, that any moment he’d wake up, and yet no amount of pinching had changed anything at all.
Now, though, Keith felt cold and clammy with nervous sweat. It felt like his good luck was finally running out. Three years of having the perfect family, of being schooled from home and finally becoming comfortable in his own body, was too much for one person to be allotted. Now, his adoptive moms had insisted on sending Keith back to public school, claiming it would make for a better senior year than the one online schooling could give him.
They insisted this would be good for him, a perfect way to “get back into it” before going off to college, but Keith couldn’t help but disagree. He was pretty sure going to high school for the very last year, especially after having not even gone to a public school for the three years previous, was a horrible idea. A guaranteed recipe for disaster.
Still, Keith had a plan for his senior year. All he had to do was lie low and keep from drawing any unnecessary attention to himself. He decided that it didn’t matter if he didn’t make friends, if he didn’t have anyone to sit with at lunch, despite the pathetically hopeful additions he’d made to his list just days before. All he needed was to get good enough grades to get the hell out of there, and then he’d be set, wishlist be damned.
Honestly, finding himself back in a public school after three years felt like being thrown to the wolves. He could scarcely believe he was up this early, much less wearing pants and a binder. For the past three years he’d risen at noon, eaten Cheerios while doing his online schooling, and spent the rest of the day playing video games or surfing the internet in his underwear. Then again… maybe it was understandable his moms were sending him back to public school after all.
And so here Keith was. Standing on the steps of Jefferson High, the sky still barely lightening behind him, the fluorescent lights inside the building looking about ready to give him a headache.
“Ten bucks says Mr. Iverson finally goes around the twist this year,” said a chipper voice from somewhere behind Keith, much too energetic for eight in the morning.
“No way. If you haven’t driven him to quitting in the past three years, there’s nothing you can do now.”
“You wouldn’t believe the plans I have for this year, Hunk. Senior year.”
“Sometimes I wonder if we should just leave that idiot alone,” sighed a third voice.
“It’s attitudes like that that’ve kept us from driving him over the edge in our previous years, Pidge,” chided the first, chipper voice. “It’s our sacred duty to eradicate this evil from our school.”
Unable to help himself any longer, Keith glanced over his shoulder, his eyes locking on the three other students stupid enough to show up to school an entire half hour early. One kid was really short, her hair choppy around her face and her glasses dwarfing her eyes. In the middle was a vaguely familiar looking boy, tall and skinny with his hands latched around the straps of his backpack. On the other side of him was a dark-skinned boy with a kind face, an orange bandana tied around his forehead.
As Keith stared, the boy in the middle looked up and made eye-contact with him, instantly smirking. “Out of the way, freshman!”
“Lance!” The guy on the right of Lance — Hunk — elbowed him, making him stumble.
“I’m not a freshman,” Keith found himself saying. The Lance kid cocked his head.
“Never seen you before,” he said, holding up one finger. “Short,” he added, putting up another. And then he shrugged, clearly out of freshman-classifying-proof.
“I’m short,” Pidge scoffed.
“I’m not a freshman,” Keith insisted. “I’m just new.”
“Oh wow!” Hunk said. “We, like, never have new students here. I’m Hunk.”
“Keith,” Keith supplied. His eyes were drawn, again, to Lance, who was kind of squinting at him, his lips pursed.
“This is Lance,” Hunk said, with a roll of his eyes. “Please excuse his generally rude demeanor.”
“And I’m Pidge,” Pidge added.
“Do I know you?” Lance asked, pointed a finger at Keith. Just like that, the vague feeling of recognition Keith had been feeling clicked into place. This was Lance McClain. They’d gone to the same middle school back before he’d been pulled out of the system, allowed to do online schooling by his then foster parents, the same ones that had adopted him.
“No,” Keith said quickly, fighting down what felt like electricity in his legs, trying to convince him to bolt. He’d gone to this high school specifically because it was the one that his old middle school, across town, hadn’t been zoned into. So what was Lance McClain doing here?
“You’re not internet famous, are you?” Lance pestered, leaning in closer.
“No.”
“Hmm.”
“Stop bugging him, Lance,” Pidge said. Then she nodded at Keith. “Welcome to Jefferson, by the way. Don’t let Lance scare you away.”
“Will do,” Keith managed, and then the trio was walking past him, Keith’s thundering heart calming down as they did. They fell easily back into their conversation as they walked, the new student quickly forgotten from their minds.
“So anyway, I’m thinking that I’m gonna fill Mr. Iverson’s car with…”
It was a much closer call than Keith would’ve liked. Keeping his head down and breezing through his one and only year of high school wouldn’t be so easy if he was outed on his first day here. If Lance recognized him from middle school, from before he’d cut off all his hair and bought binders and gone on T….
Well, his life could be ruined, couldn’t it?
Maybe that was a bit dramatic, but his year could definitely be ruined. It depended on the type of person Lance was, after all. The easiest way to avoid discovery would be to just avoid Lance, obviously. Still, from what Keith remembered of him from their middle school days, he wasn’t the brightest of people, so maybe Keith was panicking for no reason in the first place. Lance probably couldn’t put two and two together anyway.
Pushing away the bout of anxiety he’d just been assaulted with, Keith followed the three students to where they’d disappeared up the main steps, pulling open the heavy main entrance doors and flipping open his schedule to see where he was going. His first class was English — bound to be dreadful — but he figured he’d just go ahead and figure out where it was now. Sherry, one of his foster moms, had dropped him off early for that explicit purpose, seeing as he’d never had to navigate a school building this large before. Also because it was the only time she could drop him off, seeing as she’d had to go straight to work after doing so.
It was a good thing, though, because the school honestly was gigantic. Its hallways were seemingly endless and completely confusing, crisscrossing each other and leaving Keith feeling backtracked. The numbers by the doors didn’t make sense either, jumping from 300s to 500s and back again. He was forced to walk in circles, somehow continuing to not recognize hallways even after he’d already walked through them (or at least, he was pretty sure he’d already walked through them).
“Are you lost?”
Keith jolted to a halt, looking up from the paper schedule he’d been staring hard at, the number 402 engraved in his brain.
“Um…” The woman before him looked kind enough. Only a few years older than himself, surely — possibly a teacher’s assistant? — with dark skin and dyed silver hair. She was smiling.
“Yeah.”
“Are you new here?”
“Yeah. I just transferred.”
The woman nodded, stepping forward to look down at his schedule. “You’re right down this hall,” she informed, stretching a finger out before them. “English with Mrs. Kelly.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem. I’m Allura, by the way.”
“Keith,” Keith returned, before taking a step back, his hand raised in thanks. He hurried the rest of the way to his class, the halls having begun to actually fill with people during his bout of being unable to navigate the school, and he sidled into a seat in the back of the classroom with a relieved sigh.
His teacher had yet to arrive, a good ten minutes still to go before the bell rang, but slowly more students began trickling in, setting their bags down on desks and arriving in pairs, talking with friends and calling across the classroom to others. Keith just sat on his phone, a dumb game open to occupy the time.
“This seat taken?”
Keith jerked his head up, blinking when he recognized the short girl from earlier. Pidge.
“Oh, it’s you. No, you can have it.”
Pidge smiled and slid into the seat, plopping her worn-looking backpack beside her. “I didn’t realize you were a senior,” she said, not looking at Keith as she pulled out her own phone and tapped at it.
“Well… I am,” Keith said, a bit unnecessarily.
“You’ll like it here,” Pidge promised, her voice soothing and reliable surrounded by all the indistinct chatter in the classroom. She sounded so sure of herself that Keith almost couldn’t help believing her. “And Mrs. Kelly’s nice too — I had her last year as well. Annotate the first few articles she gives us really well and she won’t bother to check your homework for the rest of the year.”
“That’s awesome,” Keith responded, mainly because he couldn’t very well not respond to someone talking to him. He’d never really had any friends before. When he’d been little, switching through foster care so often, he hadn’t really had time to get situated in any one place, and it didn’t help that he’d been a shy kid, never really trying to make friends on his own anyway.
He’d managed to stay in one area for middle school, despite switching foster families twice, but by then he’d never really gotten the hang of making friends, and being alone was what he was used to. He’d talked to people in school, of course, but he’d never had anyone over after school, never gone to a friend’s house or been invited to a birthday party. After a while, he just got used to being alone.
And now, making friends wasn’t really something he understood how to do. That didn’t stop it from being one of the items on his wishlist, pathetically enough.
Still, Pidge seemed nice enough, and she didn’t really care about the lack of conversation from Keith's end, either, busy typing away on her own phone. Plus, Keith had more to worry about than conversing with a potential friend, it seemed.
It was quickly becoming obvious that Hunk hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said they didn’t get very many new students here. Keith had always known he’d lived in a pretty small area, but he didn’t realize it was small enough that any new student was like a drop of blood in the ocean — it was like everyone could sense him. Heads kept turning, students craning their necks to see who the new kid was in the back of the classroom. Keith didn’t even want to know how knowledge of a new kid had spread that quickly, practically old news by the time the first bell had even rung.
Class started without a hitch, other than whispers filtering through the room at his name on the roster. (And thankfully it really was his name. He’d been concerned, afraid his birth name would somehow manage to follow him from middle school despite having been changed legally with his foster moms years ago).
“They’ll calm down soon enough,” Pidge murmured to him, her knees pulled up in what was surely an uncomfortable position, hunched over her phone on her desk and tapping away at it methodically. It was the first day of class and already she didn’t seem to care about the learning part. Then again, she didn’t exactly look like the type of person who didn’t care about grades — maybe she was just one of those lucky few who could manage to get A’s without studying or even paying attention in class.
The rest of period went by quickly, filled with talk of the syllabus and even a tad bit of actual learning, something which readily disheartened the majority of class, seeing as no one really felt prepared for actual learning on the first day of school. By the time the bell rung Keith had already shoved all his supplies back into his backpack and was clutching his schedule, about ready to find that Allura girl again and get her to direct him to his next class.
“Know where you’re going?” Pidge asked helpfully, and Keith turned, surprised that she was still even there. It was strange, a complete stranger being so helpful, but maybe that was just the type of person she was. Anyway, she snatched the schedule out of his hands before he could answer and hummed under her breath. “Your class is on the way to mine — I’ll walk you to it.” And so she did.
Pidge fought through the crowded hallways with the tired ease of someone used to its insanity. People who were obviously freshman (Keith knew because they looked as confused as he did) steered clear of her glowering face, and Keith found his path pretty easily with her shoving the way open for him. Some people turned, their mouths open as if to snap something at the person who’d just pushed them, only to lay eyes on her and turn quickly back around.
Keith felt glad that he’d somehow managed to get on her good side.
“You’re in here,” Pidge finally said, coming to a stop in front of a door identical to all the rest. “Mr. Iman. This class’ll make you hate your life — I took it freshman year.”
Freshman year? Keith thought, incredulous. He’d come to talk to his counselor over the summer about the courses he needed to take and they’d said this was a senior course. What the fuck?
“Thanks,” Keith managed, around his surprise and now fear for a class that was apparently going to make him hate his life. Pidge just nodded at him.
“We eat in the computer lab if you want to join us,” she added, and without waiting for a response, disappeared into the crowd. Keith wasn’t surprised to see it parting around her.
His next class — Physics — really did seem like it was going to make him hate his life. It was still the first day, so mainly only introductions and such, but the teacher went ahead and did a few practice problems for them that left Keith feeling dizzy. His next class was government, as easy as it was boring, and then it was lunch time.
A voice in the back of his head, sounding suspiciously like his new acquaintance Pidge, reminded him that he’d actually been invited somewhere for lunch. But then he remembered that that would involve (most likely awkward) conversation with near-strangers for an entire half hour, not to mention the fact that he didn’t even know where the computer labs were. And so, feeling much more confident in his decision, Keith wandered back towards the library he’d stumbled across three separate times during his morning exploration of the school.
There were signs and such instructing students not to bring food or drink into the library but Keith pretended not to see them as he made his way to a back corner, pulling a random book onto his lap and a homemade sandwich out of his bag. He ate it quickly, half-afraid a librarian really would come to prosecute him for his rule breakage, and stuffed the trash back where it’d came from when he was finished.
After lunch he only had one more class of the day, and then he’d be free to go home and take off his pants and lay in his bed for several hours. He’d been forced to take an elective in order to graduate from the high school, meaning it was with trepidation that he made his way towards the arts hallway (with assistance from nice-looking teachers). He’d loved to draw when he was younger, but it was something he’d lost his passion for, meaning the most he ever did nowadays was doodle on the corner of non-important papers while waiting to do more important things.
It only made sense that it was in this hallway when he ran into Lance again.
“…can’t believe she broke up with him,” said his loud, attention-drawing voice. It was like he wasn’t even speaking to just the people around him, like he was aware that if he spoke loudly and passionately enough it would encourage everyone else to be interested, to listen to what he was saying as well. Of fucking course he was a drama kid.
He was leaning against a wall across from a pair of doors embroidered with the classic masks of drama, happiness and tragedy. His hands were extended as he gesticulated and two girls stood in front of him, listening to what he had to say with rapt attention.
“I heard it was because he cheated on her,” one girl stage-whispered. Another drama kid then, probably. She had the stage-whispering down, anyway.
“No way,” Lance scoffed. “That guy could barely get ahold of one chick, but a second? Nah, I bet Ashley just wanted to stir up some drama.”
“You’re totally right, Lance.”
Lance shrugged, smirking. And then he looked up, catching Keith watching him. Again.
“Keith!” he called, making Keith blink in surprise. They weren’t friends. Not-friends didn’t call across hallways to each other, did they?
Keith raised his hand, waving it slightly, and Lance laughed, loud and boisterous. “That’s Keith,” he said to his audience of two (and extended audience, of everyone listening in while pretending they weren’t). “He’s new this year.”
Many faces turned his way, and Keith managed more of a grimace than a smile before backing into the art room, where his teacher greeted him with a firm, awkward handshake and directed him to his seat.
All in all, his first day went relatively smoothly. No major bumps in the road, no embarrassments, and he was able to sit on the steps in front of the school feeling relatively at ease. Sherry would be there within the hour to pick him up and take him home, seeing as none of the school buses went to his part of town.
Keith hunkered down, his elbows planted firmly on his knees as he set in to wait. He pulled up the same dumb phone game he’d been playing earlier in the day and played it mindlessly, oblivious to the students talking and exiting the school all around him. That is, until someone said his name.
“Hey, it’s Keith,” said Pidge, and Keith jerked his head up, turning to stare at the girl, accompanied by her two comrades. They were all standing in front of Keith, a few steps below him. “How was your first day?” she asked.
“Good,” Keith said, clicking the power button on his phone to be polite, even though he was getting close to his high score. “No, yeah — it was good. Not too difficult.”
“You didn’t join us for lunch,” Pidge pointed out.
“I don’t know where the computer lab is,” Keith answered, and Pidge pointed at him and nodded, as if to say, touché.
“What’re you sitting here for, man?” Hunk asked, glancing towards the busses that were now starting to drive away. It was kind of ridiculous, but something in him warmed up at that, at hearing a near-stranger so casually call him ‘man’. It wasn’t too long ago when he’d been nervous to even go in public, so desperately wanting to not be misgendered.
“The busses don’t go to my side of town,” Keith said. “I’m waiting to be picked up.”
“Yo, they don’t go to where Lance lives either,” Hunk said, gesturing to him. “That’s why I drive him every day. You want a ride?”
Keith’s mouth dropped open. Here he was, his first day of high school, being offered a ride home by someone he’d barely just met. A part of him — an admittedly big part — wanted to decline, afraid of any awkward conversations that might ensue in the car ride. But an even bigger part liked the idea of getting to go home and not have to sit around waiting for Sherry even more, so he nodded.
“That’d be awesome, actually,” he said, getting carefully to his feet and shrugging his bag onto his shoulder. “My ride wasn’t going to be here for an hour.”
“Damn,” Hunk said, before smiling kindly. “Glad I offered you a ride, then!” And he actually sounded sincere. He started to lead the way towards his car and Keith followed, falling in step beside Lance and Pidge.
“Shotgun!” Pidge suddenly called out, and then raced across the parking lot to ensure her claim. Lance immediately started complaining loudly, shouting after her about how short her legs were and how unfair the world was, but he didn’t give chase.
Keith had never been driven by anyone his age before. Shiro didn’t count, having been able to drive since before Keith was even adopted, and he himself didn’t count either. It’d been Sherry and Deb’s ceaseless and obsessive instructing that’d taught him, so he doubted very many other teens could drive quite as well as he could.
Thankfully, Hunk turned out to be a careful driver. One that Keith would soon learn was almost too careful. For example, he drove the way Keith drove whenever either Sherry or Deb were in the car with him.
“Hunk, what the hell are you doing?” Pidge snapped from the front seat.
“Slowing down?”
“Why?”
“It’s a yellow light, Pidge! That means slow down!”
“Yeah, if you’re far enough away!” Pidge insisted. “God, you drive like my grandma.”
“Your grandma’s dead, Pidge,” Lance piped up from beside Keith, making Keith’s eyes go wide at the blatancy. Hunk’s car was pretty small, which meant sitting in the back with Lance was impossible without their knees being pressed together.
“Yeah, and even her ghost could drive faster than this,” Pidge assured, making Lance snort and Hunk shake his head wearily, obviously used to the crude kind of jokes but unwilling to actually participate in them.
The light turned green and Pidge’s anger-fuel vanished, leaving the way for Lance to blaze through with a new conversation topic. “Did you guys see Allura today? Because damn.”
“Lance, hearing you talk about Allura makes me want to rip my ears off,” Pidge said, point-blank, and Lance just shrugged uncaringly.
“I’m just saying — that dress? With those heels? She could kill me wearing that outfit and I’d thank her.”
“Sure you would,” said Hunk.
“Hunk! Come on! You can’t act like she’s not beautiful!”
“Sure, sure, she’s beautiful,” Hunk muttered. “Only one of the many beautiful girls around, but…”
“Oh my God, Shay again? I thought we agreed on no more lamenting over the fact that she’s not your girlfriend until you actually build up the courage to ask her out?”
Hunk grumbled something in response, hunching over the steering wheel in annoyance, and Lance suddenly turned to Keith in a whirlwind, making Keith shrink back a little in surprise. “What about you, Keith? Did you see Allura? She’s like, tall? White hair? Stunningly beautiful?”
“Um, yeah I think I did see her,” Keith muttered, twisting his fingers together in his lap nervously. She’d been the one to direct him to his first class. He’d noticed she was gorgeous, of course, but like. In an abject kind of way. After all, girls weren’t really his thing.
“Well? Hot, right?”
“Right,” Keith said. Lance squinted at him.
“You know, you look really familiar,” he said, shaking his head and scrutinizing Keith intensely, as if he could figure out from where he knew Keith if he just looked hard enough. “Are you sure we don’t know each other?”
“Positive,” Keith said, before hastily glancing away from Lance and out the window. They were passing over the bridge, which separated the east and western halves of their town.
Keith remembered Lance well from middle school, and he guessed it was a happy testament to how much he’d changed that Lance didn’t recognize him outright. Still, he remembered Lance as loud and obnoxious and attention hogging. The kind of middle school boy he’d avoided. Lance didn’t seem to have changed much, really, which made Keith fear Lance figuring it out. He didn’t know how he or anyone else would react, much less whether they were able to keep a secret. After all, he’d seen how quickly news had spread in the school just that morning, and that’d just been because he was new.
“Keith? I’m gonna drop you off first, is that okay?” Hunk said from up front, and Keith hastily nodded. A whirlwind of excuses whipped through his brain — they want to get rid of me sooner, they want to continue hanging out together and need to get rid of me first — which he tried his best to ignore. Plus, it would make sense if they wanted to keep hanging out but without Keith. The three of them were friends, Hunk was just nice enough to have offered Keith a ride home.
Keith ended up directing Hunk to his house, and by the time they got there Hunk let out a hum. “You live really close to Lance, you know that?”
“Yeah,” Lance chimed in. “I’m like —” he gestured behind a row of houses “— two streets over.”
“Oh,” Keith said, having nothing better to say to that.
“You sure we didn’t go to the same middle school or something?” Lance said. “Did you like, skip a grade?”
“Nope,” Keith assured him, before smiling up at Hunk. “Thank you for driving me,” he said.
“No problem! I can pick you up tomorrow after getting Lance, if you want.”
Keith’s mouth dropped open. It was just… no one’s seriously that nice, right? Surely there was some kind of horrible prank coming up down the road. Or Hunk was so driven by the need to be polite that he and everyone else would be groaning the second they drove away, wishing he’d just kept his fat mouth shut.
No other explanation really made any sense to Keith. People didn’t just try to make friends this easily, did they? Inviting someone into their car, into their lunch group, into their lives. What did any of them want to do with Keith?
“Um…” Keith said. His mind was stuttering past all the assurances Sherry and Deb and Shiro had given him, telling him to talk to people, to take the opportunities that came, that he’d be making friends in no time. It seemed disrespectful to them to turn down Hunk, who somehow seemed so genuine about all this. “Only if you really don’t mind…”
“Not at all,” Hunk said, smiling easily. “See you around 8:15ish?”
“Yeah, sounds great,” Keith muttered.
“Wait!” Lance jumped in. Oh God, this was it. He was going to step in and keep Hunk from ruining their perfectly good, Keith-free mornings. “You’d better give Hunk your number. He’s actually horrible at showing up at the time he says he’s going to.”
“Traffic’s unpredictable, Lance,” Hunk said, in a tired voice that suggested they’d had this same argument before. He handed his phone to Lance, though, who handed it to Keith without looking, already facing Hunk again.
“It’s only unpredictable when you drive as slow as you do,” Lance quipped. “The flow of traffic changes around you.”
“Ha-ha,” said Hunk, deadpan.
“Here,” Keith said, having typed his number into the phone. As Keith watched, Lance looked down at the phone, clicked ‘share contact’, and sent his contact to a group chat entitled ‘witty convo name’.
“There,” he said. “Now we all have it.”
Keith didn’t know what to say to that, so he just took a step back and muttered, “See you tomorrow,” before turning around and jogging up the driveway. Hunk stayed and idled in front of his house while Keith unlocked the door, only leaving after Keith had turned around and waved, three hands returning it before the orange car drove slowly away. Keith could imagine Pidge and Lance groaning inside while Hunk insisted that they were driving in a residential area.
By the time Keith closed the front door behind him, he found himself smiling. He’d dreamt up all sorts of horrifying first day scenarios, and though he’d tried to come up with a handful of best-case scenarios as well, none of them had even come close to him getting invited to lunch and ending up with a ride to school. Which reminded him.
He texted Sherry, telling her he’d gotten a ride home and that she didn’t have to worry about him, before heading up the stairs and into his room, where he tossed his bag onto the chair and kicked off his shoes, barely paying attention to where they landed.
Moments later, he was binder-free and taking deep, unencumbered breaths, and then he was throwing on a giant sweatshirt and letting the material swallow him whole. He shucked off his pants and collapsed in his bed, feeling comfortable and at peace.
Only a few minutes later — honestly, Keith had been expecting this since walking through the front door — there came a loud banging on his bedroom door, and Shiro scarcely waited for Keith’s, “Come in,” before he was barging in.
His grin seemed to encompass his whole face as he bounded across the room, bouncing Keith on the bed as he demanded to know about his day, ignoring Keith’s protests. He’d been adopted much younger than Keith, but he’d still been on the older side for being in the foster system. Turned out, most parents don’t want to adopt kids who were “different”, kids born with only one arm or who claimed they weren’t the gender they’d been assigned at birth.
Of course, most parents didn’t include two lesbians with a wicked inheritance and absolutely zero desire for anything to do with babies. Hence the adopted kids with lots of monetary needs, considering Shiro’s prosthetic and Keith’s testosterone.
Keith managed to quiet Shiro’s demands, insisting that he didn’t want to have to tell it all again when their parents got home, though he had to stave him off by including the fact that he’d had a good first day, after all.
It wasn’t long before Deb and Sherry arrived home, filling the house with their excited chatter and the obvious signal for Keith to venture downstairs, though Shiro still barged into his room to remind him. On the stairs, Keith could actually make out their voices.
“— a ride home?”
“I know! On his first day, too!”
“But who are they? Are they his friends now? Are they —”
“I have no clue! He didn’t say and I didn’t want to pry, you know, and —”
“Guys,” Keith interrupted. He was met by twin squeals, and then Sherry and Deb were grabbing him by the arms and ushering him into the living room, both of them talking loudly and over each other, meaning that Keith couldn’t discern a thing.
“Tell. Us. Everything!” Sherry said, dropping a hand on Keith’s knee and squeezing excitedly. Shiro plopped onto the coffee table across from him, and Keith found everyone’s excitement contagious, grinning excitedly in response and trying and failing to roll his eyes at their antics.
“I picked up like four different kinds of ice cream, just in case it wasn’t a good first day, but I put them in the freezer,” Deb was saying, talking fast. “I don’t need to get them out, do I?”
“No,” Keith laughed. “It was good.” And he ended up telling them everything, from running into the trio of friends on the front steps to getting driven home by them at the end of the day. His family reacted perfectly at all the right parts, gasping and squealing and in Shiro’s case reaching over to smack him at one point in excitement. Sherry actually looked teary-eyed by the time he was done talking, and Deb jumped to her feet.
“This calls for a celebration,” she said, and she bustled out of the room only to return with the four different cartons of ice cream.
“I thought those were for if it was a bad day?” Keith said, though he took the spoon handed to him regardless.
“Ice cream is for both comfort and celebration,” Deb announced, and Keith nodded wisely, stealing the cookie dough one all for himself and ignoring Shiro’s stink-eye because of it.
By that night, Keith found himself excited to go to sleep, almost unable to wait until the next morning. He picked his discarded pants off the floor, rifling through the pockets and pulling out his wishlist carefully. He spread it on the desk and grabbed a pen from the cup holder, clicking it open and scratching through the words, go back to school.
He’d added that particular wish shortly after opting to take online classes. Although he’d liked the comfort of being at home, the ease of which he’d been able to finally, properly experiment with his gender expression, there’d been a part of him that’d longed for the atmosphere of a real school, that’d wanted desperately to make friends.
And so he’d wished for it, just like he’d wished for so many other things, not knowing quite when he’d get to cross it off.