A/N: updates for this are going to be about two weeks apart. i just started my last year of high school so i'm dealing with that on top of two jobs, but i will be doing my best to post chapters as frequently and consistently as possible. this story is also posted on AO3 and is updated at the same time. y'all can find me on instagram @keithsgaythoughts, i don't post much but i will be using it for keeping readers up to date on this fic :)

this fic is gonna have a playlist, just for fun. each chapter will have a corresponding song. a completed playlist will be posted with the final chapter.

song for the first chapter is: "We Are" - One Ok Rock

+ + +

Keith takes his headphones from his ears, closing his textbook with a soft thud as someone slides into the chair across from him. There are notes scattered across the table, messy evidence of his work that will eventually be crumpled and shoved into his bag without a second thought. He taps his pencil against the table as the other young man slinks deeper into his seat and fiddles with the tuft of white hair hanging over his forehead - an old habit. Keith glances at his other hand, where he holds coffee in a small paper cup decorated with Garrison University's logo. It's the same as the cup sitting beside Keith's papers. Shiro's, however, is probably heavily loaded with sugar and milk, while Keith prefers to just accept the bitter taste and drink it black.

The other takes a small sip before speaking, tilting his chin towards the creased papers and scribbled words. "Working hard?"

Keith snorts quietly. "Hardly working," he says, rubbing his eyes. In the mirror that morning he had discovered that the black rings under his eyes are becoming more prominent than what is acceptable.

"I doubt it," Shiro offers him a lopsided smile. His nose crinkles as he takes another drink of his campus coffee that isn't really coffee; more like a watery brown sludge. No amount of sweeteners can get rid of the aftertaste (which is why Keith doesn't even bother) and the only reason why anyone still drinks it is because it's cheap, convenient and caffeinated. The necessary C's of university life. "If you weren't busy with classwork, I'm sure you would have agreed to meet up with me sooner."

It seems that the first month of school is taking a weighty toll on Shiro, also, who sports similar dark smudges under each eye and drooping shoulders.

Keith realizes that he's been chewing his pencil and sets it down before he bites the eraser clean off. "Sorry. I just wanted to get settled in on my own, you know?" His friend gives a gentle nod, because of course Shiro understands, he's the only one who does.

"I'm proud of you-"

"Shiro, you've said that a hundred times," Keith cuts him off with a playful eyeroll.

He looks down at the notes written in chicken scratch, coffee stains in the corners and pen scribbles along the edges, words spiraling in all directions. Keith is the first to admit that his study habits are less than satisfactory, but it gets the job done. He's firmly held his position at the top of class since day one.

Judging by the expression on Shiro's face, he is mulling over a lecture in his head, and Keith can guess the topic.

You should start putting yourself out there. School is a good place to meet people, find opportunities, et cetera et cetera.

What Shiro doesn't understand is that Keith and the other students don't really click. His restricted friend group, consisting only of himself and Shiro at this point, is more by choice than the inability to expand it. He is perfectly content minding his own business in class, spending evenings in the quiet of his dorm room while reviewing that day's notes, and not having to worry about anyone else.

Keith shifts uncomfortably in his chair. The school's massive library had undergone renovations in the previous year, and while the building looked spectacular, their furniture selection is lacking. He props his legs against the bag at his feet and grumbles, "couldn't we have hung out in your room or something?" in an attempt to redirect where he knows the conversation is heading.

Shiro sighs loudly. "Believe me, you don't want to meet my roommate."

"Slav, right?"

His friend nods and stares sadly into the drink still cradled in his hands, as if enough prayers would turn it into Starbucks or something. "He's crazy smart, crazy being the key word," Shiro elaborates, after downing the last mouthful of coffee and swallowing with a shudder. "What about your roommate? I haven't heard anything about them."

Keith is tempted to brag. While Shiro got the short end of that stick, he had actually turned out to be fairly lucky in the roommate raffle. He is partnered with another first year, despite Keith being a year older due to his late start, who worships the phrase "personal space" as much as he did. They have a sadistic, witty sense of humour that he can appreciate and are remarkably clever. Keith had been ecstatic to learn that they were also an avid conspiracy fan.

"Oh, right. Pidge. They're really nice," he offers, giving Shiro a slight shrug and trying to remember what else he knew about his small roommate. "They've actually got a brother who works in the library. He's in your year, I think."

Shiro raises his eyebrows. "Oh?" He says, cheeks dusting with a light pink that doesn't go unnoticed by Keith.

"You know the guy?"

His blush deepens. "Um, I think so. Matt Holt?" Keith nods when the name strikes him as familiar, "y-yeah, I've seen him around."

The younger boy hums thoughtfully to himself, as Shiro tightens his hands around the empty paper cup. He quickly changes topic with a question about Keith's classes and the conversation naturally flows from there. Keith hadn't realized it, but he misses talking with Shiro - the ease that comes with never having to think before he speaks, unconcerned with the impression that his words will leave.

The younger boy hums thoughtfully to himself, as Shiro tightens his hands around the empty paper cup. He quickly changes topic with a question about Keith's classes and the conversation naturally flows from there. Keith hadn't realized it, but he misses talking with Shiro - the ease that comes with never having to think before he speaks, unconcerned with the impression that his words will leave.

Two hours pass before they finally get out of their chairs, stretching and cracking stiff joints before tossing their cups in the nearest bin and walking towards the exit. He pretends he doesn't notice that Shiro's eyes linger a moment too long on the scrawny, copper-haired student at the desk, hunched over his books as he catches up on school work. Keith does, however, give a slight wave when the boy glances up as they walk past. Shiro's face turns absolutely scarlet.

+ + +

That evening, Keith finds himself wandering around campus on the heels of his short roommate. Their eyes are focused on the phone in front of them, occasionally raising a hand to adjust their glasses. He had been invited to eat with Pidge and their friends. Normally the offer would have been politely turned down - apparently after spending the day with Shiro, he's suffering from an angel-on-the-shoulder effect, and reluctantly agreed to accompany Pidge to the campus gym where they are meeting the others.

Pidge hops over an uneven edge in the sidewalk without shifting their eyes from the screen. They seem to have an extra sense which Keith can't determine the cause of - probably aliens, demons, or some sort of genetic mutation. Perhaps they escaped from a government lab.

"Hunk says to meet him at the doors by the pool," they pass along the information from their phone, "because unfortunately Lance is the only one with a car and we have to wait for him."

Keith scowls as they cross the road, changing direction to head for the large indoor pool at the opposite end of the building. He knows that he's not an easy person to get along with, but Pidge's friend is a whole other issue.

Lance McClain: noisy, obnoxious, annoyingly flirty and constantly trying to one-up the entire world. That had been his first impression of the boy. They had met during orientation, since Lance is a second year in the same program and of course he had to be part of the welcoming committee for the new astrophysics students. Things went downhill after Keith had gotten defensive about Lance's attempts to romance him; they've been butting heads ever since.

They find Hunk at the entrance, sitting on one of the benches with his gym bag and draining the last drops from his water bottle. He gives Keith a friendly wave. At their first meeting, Keith had been intimidated (the guy looks like he can probably bench press six whole Pidges without breaking a sweat) though it quickly became obvious that Hunk is just a giant ball of fluff.

Keith listens distractedly as the other two launch into a conversation about their engineering program - Hunk is a second year, like Lance - while they wait for the missing member of the group. He watches ten minutes go by on his phone before Lance finally appears at the doors.

The boy is carrying a bulky gym bag over one shoulder, his hair still damp from the pool. Lance swings a pair of blue goggles on his fingers and flashes a gaudy smile at the others. He reeks of chlorine, but Keith can't take his eyes off of Lance's shirtless upper body. Has his skin always been that golden? And his shoulders - since when were they so broad? Where the hell did those abs come from?

His grin folds into a glare when he notices Keith, the corner of his mouth hiking up in a snarl. "Why are you here?"

"Pidge invited me," Keith defends himself. He crosses his arms over his chest and stares pointedly at Lance's face, refusing to let his gaze drop any lower.

"Whatever, mullet," Lance scoffs.

Slipping their phone away, Pidge shakes their head at the two of them. "Can we just go? I'm starving - and Lance, put a damn shirt on. It's nearly October."

+ + +

After the awkward dinner with Pidge's group, Keith had retreated to the wobbly desk in his dorm room, sifting through unorganized piles of notes and burying himself in his classes with the intention of avoiding Lance's loud presence for the rest of the year (actually, until Lance graduates. The eight-hundred and seventy-two day countdown begins now).

Unfortunately, his plan has fallen through after only three days. Pidge burst into the room at ten a.m. that morning, earlier than Keith has ever seen them move on a Saturday, with a plastic bag swinging wildly in their hands because oh my god, they had just bought the new Voltron game.

It is just his luck that their dorm room has both a TV and game console, courtesy of Pidge, so the rest of the group is invited for a necessary video game night. Keith's attempts to escape were soon smothered by his definitely demonic roommate, and he quickly learns that headphones are not going to solve this problem.

Lance is actually buzzing with excitement as they insert the disc and wait for the console to load it, coming close to the title of Most Enthusiastic Reaction, currently held by Pidge. From where Keith sits on his bed, watching the other three shuffle around to find a comfortable place to park themselves, he can clearly see the giddy smile glowing on Lance's face. He hates that he finds it adorable and hates it even more than he can't deny that thought.

He's been thinking about Lance too much.

Keith shakes himself when a controller is suddenly shoved in his face, waved aggressively by Lance, who fixes him with a challenging stare and demands, "play with me, I'm going to kick your ass into the next reality."

He looks around for an exit, finding only a smirking Pidge and Hunk avoiding his eyes. Keith accepts the controller with a huff and straightens up to face the TV as Lance settles into place as well. He's still got that dumb smile.

A futuristic, colourful screen declaring Choose Your Paladin! is the first that appears. Lance selects the blue character without putting any consideration into it, announcing that it's his favourite colour and completely ignoring the statistics and power boosts listed to the side. After a quick scroll through the options, Keith settles on "Red Paladin".

The first ten minutes of the game consist mostly of his opponent - maybe teammate? Keith has no idea what's happening - going crazy with the buttons while Pidge yells encouragement. If encouragement sounds like, "get it together, idiots!"

He can't remember the last video game he's played, and his fingers fumble over the controls. Keith's character consistently ends up being killed by the purple alien race they are meant to be fighting. Okay, so Lance is on his team, and they're supposed to be helping each other. (They don't).

The room groans dramatically as the level restarts after the reincarnated Red Paladin is taken down yet again. Keith didn't know it was possible to get so wound up over a game, but it only takes him another three minutes before he starts shouting with them. Lance is leaning so far he's only an inch away from falling off Pidge's bed.

"To your right! No, other right!"

"Make way for the sharpshooter, baby!"

"Lance, we're on the same team please stop shooting at me we have to work together- " The offender only laughs gleefully, adjusting his aim to take out an alien to Keith's left.

"HA, BET YOU CAN'T DO THAT , MULLET!"

"Look out!"

"I got your back!"

"Got it!"

"Nice one," Lance concludes, as LEVEL COMPLETE flashes on the screen, numbers counting down to their next battle. The controllers are passed along to Pidge and Hunk's eager hands while the other two shuffle out of the way. "I guess we make a good team after all," he says, grinning.

Keith swallows and gives a sharp nod as he focuses his attention on the screen, where Pidge chooses the intuitive Green Paladin and Hunk settles on defence-boosted Yellow. He thinks he might - just maybe - be getting in over his head.