Quick note: In most, if not all, of these short stories, Shiro is just a couple years older, so it's not too weird since they're young. So don't @ me, thank you 😂

Keith's knees were bent so that he was crouching down against the wall. He put his elbows on his knees and his head in his fingers, massaging his stressed temples as he tried to keep it together.

At least he's stable, he told himself.

He glanced back and forth through the hallway to make sure no one was staring at him, because he really didn't feel like picking a fight, and he stood. He shook his joints and stretched his muscles. He wiped his cheeks to make sure no tears had slipped, and he made his way back down to the waiting room. There, Shiro sitting worried, his hand on his chin and staring at the floor. Keith sat next to him, and rested his head on the older boy's shoulders.

"He'll be all right," I said, but I wasn't sure who I was assuring more--Shiro, or myself.

"Yeah, he will. He's strong." Shiro adds, probably feeling the same.

Okay, that's the first part, more of a prologue. Thank you, and I hope you enjoyed.