Out of Your League

Chapter Three

((Welcome to chapter three!! There are some possibly triggering themes in this chapter: self-harm, abuse, and depression. Please DO NOT READ if you are triggered by these things. On a different note, please enjoy the newest chapter!))

"Keith! I'm back!"

Keith woke with a jolt, hair messy and eyes bleary. He blinked, trying to figure out where he was. Right, he was at Shiro's place. He sat up, rubbing his eyes and grumbling to himself. Pawing around in the dark, he managed to find his phone. The brightness of the screen nearly blinded him. He squinted as he looked at the time: 6:30. 

"Seriously, Shiro?! Six thirty?!" Keith shouted out to his older brother. 

"Yep! Now get your lazy ass out here and help me set the table!"

"Why do we need to set the table when we just have to clean it up?! It's easier not to!"

"Don't talk back to me, young man!" There was a hint of laughter in Shiro's voice as they shouted back and forth through the small apartment.

"I'm almost eighteen!" 

"I don't care! Get out here to help me set the table!"

Keith rolled out of bed, raking a hand through his hair as he stumbled out of his room. He trudged to the kitchen, the bottoms of his pants dragging along the floor behind him. Shiro looked up from where he stood at the counter, stirring batter in a large glass mixing bowl. His shirt was unbuttoned and he didn't have shoes on. He shot a half-smile to his brother, eyes sparkling though they held exhaustion. His smile fell as he looked over Keith's body. 

"Keith. You've been at it again," Shiro sighed, shaking his head. 

"And? I can do what I want. It's my body," He grumbled, walking over to the cupboard and grabbing the bag of ground coffee beans. He began to prepare a pot of coffee. 

"Keith, please. Have you been taking your meds?" Shiro pressed, still making their breakfast. 

"Yes, Shiro. I've been taking my meds. You need to stop worrying so much," Keith rolled his eyes as he poured the coffee grounds into the new filter. 

"You know I worry about you. I'm your brother. It's my job," Shiro replied, pouring some batter into the skillet on the stove. "Especially considering it looks like Dad has been getting worse. How often?" 

"Pretty much every day," Keith shrugged, even though he knew Shiro couldn't see him. He leaned against the counter with his bandaged arms crossed over his small chest. 

"Keith! Why didn't you tell me?!" Shiro whipped around, eyes wide. 

"Because I knew you were going to react like this! It's not a big deal! Other people have it worse." Under the nonchalant attitude, Keith wanted to burst into tears and let his big brother hold him, just like when they were younger. 

"Yes, it is! You're staying with me from now on," Shiro reached to place his hands on his brother's shoulders, but the younger flinched back reflexively. Shiro bit his lip, pulling his arms back. 

"It's not a big deal. And I can't leave him alone. So drop it," Keith grabbed a mug from the rack of hooks above the sink. He poured the steaming coffee into the mug, his back to Shiro. His slim shoulders and skinny arms were littered with purple, blue, and yellow bruises. Among the bruises, cuts and welts lined his pale skin. 

"Fine. But please, if he gets worse, promise you'll come to me," Shiro flipped the pancake expertly in the pan. 

"Okay," Keith added milk and sugar to his coffee, stirring it with a spoon.