The Dead Don't Bleed

Struggle

It wasn't until Shiro's back vanished behind a turn did Keith finally get himself to reach for the door handle to his room. It opened with a small click and he stepped into the small classroom, that had been adjusted to be more of a bedroom. The windows, just like every other room he had seen, were boarded up and sealed tight. The mismatched rugs stopped in the hallway, leaving Keith's room feeling hard and empty, or was it just Shiro's rejection of him that made him feel that way?

As soon as the door swung closed behind him, he took off his shoe, and with a yell, threw it at the wall, watching it thump against the hard bricks before falling to the floor. Keith relished in the feeling it gave to throw things, and he threw his other shoe as well, harder this time, and it crashed to the floor.

"Keith."

It was a throwing frenzy after that. Cans of food were thrown as he dug into the single backpack he had left from his time with Chyra before she died in his arms. He didn't care if everyone heard. He didn't care if they forced him to leave after this, but, Keith realized with a start, they didn't want him to endanger their lives anyway, Keith doubted they even could hear him with how far away his room was from the rest of the group, so he just yelled louder, and threw harder, sight obscured by tears. If felt good to be throwing things, and somewhere in the midst of that, his katana found it's way buried in the wall as well.

"Hellooooo, Mullet, you in there?"

Eventually out of things to throw, Keith collapsed into himself, curling into a miserable ball on the sleeping bag trying to fight the wave of tears already overtaking him as they streaked, unwanted, down his cheeks, and he buried his face in the slick fabric trying to muffle his sobs.

It might have just been his imagination, but Keith could swear the thing smelled like Shiro.

Another sob.

Why did everything remind him of Shiro?

"Keith!"

Keith's head shot up in surprise of his name being yelled, as the scene faded away from his vision he realized that he was in the lounge, trying to play cards with Lance. "What?"

Lance frowned, "It's your turn, man." He gestured to the cards clutched in Keith's hand.

Oh, right, Go Fish, yeah he had totally been paying attention. Lance had been explaining how to play the game all morning, and even though he was sure he knew what came next, he was drawn a blank at what to do as he stared down at the numbered cards in his hand.

Lance gave an exasperated sigh as he realized Keith had no idea what came next, "Alright, look, it's your turn, so you have to ask me, 'do you have any' - ?"

Keith blinked, and then frowned, finally throwing his cards on the table in frustration, he got up and muttered something about "clear my head," before storming out of the room, not really caring for Lance's confused shout behind him.

Once he knew he was alone, Keith shoved his hands deep in his pockets and tried to think.

A week had passed, and he had been doing his best to slowly adjusting to his new role in the group. Between small scavenges nearby, and the occasional night watch, Keith could say that the school was starting to grow on him, it was safe, and the small band of people brought together under these crazy circumstances almost made his time suffering through the apocalypse feel like nothing but a dream. Almost.

After a day or two, Keith found that they called themselves Team Voltron. Lance liked to boast that he came up with the name himself, but he didn't miss the way Pidge muttered under her breath that it had originally been her idea in the first place.