Shiro carried two fog machines in one grip and a heavy box tucked under the other arm as he moved across the Sanctuary. Heâd allowed himself to get very comfortable these last few months. Thereâd been some growing pains, with the loss of the life heâd carved for himself out of a second chance at home. But heâd made friends here and he had Keith and Allura.
He had Keith and heâd let himself voice feelings heâd kept tightly under wraps for years. He didnât regret it, but it was impossible not to feel like Icarus now that Keith was gone.
Rather than wallow, he was trying to refocus his energies. Staying distracted and useful. He was grateful to Atreus for reminding him of his offer to help with the fundraiser set up. He tucked one of the fog machines into a hollowed out trunk as heâd been instructed and set the rest of his items down to test it. It purred to life with a touch of a button, red fog billowing out with dreamlike ease.
âI still canât believe it doesnât even need batteries,â Shiro mumbled to himself as he quickly reached into the fog to turn the machine back off.
Atreus had been up in the trees in the general area, hanging cobwebs and other decorations from branches as he climbed from limb to limb. He made it look easy as he hopped along silently, only the sound of rustling leaves behind left in his wake.
And he could use it as an excuse to keep an eye on Shiro. Or rather a mutually beneficial friendly comfort of just enjoying having someone around that he liked, even if they were both sad over the departures of people close to them. Heâd been quiet as he went about his decorating business, letting Shiro have his own thoughts to himself without the chatter of Atreus over him, but the comment about the fog machines made him laugh from above, and he dropped down to one branch so he could dangle down, right over Shiro.
âBatteries are still weird to me.â He flashed a small grin, âI actually know some magic that can string up bags of poison that cause a spooky, green fog but I didnât actually want to hurt anyone, so Ronan came through for me with these.â
On a normal day, Shiro would be hard to sneak up on. He was usually exceptionally aware of his surroundings, and purposefully aware of his friends. Today, his thoughts were a scattered mess and he jumped a little, even though heâd known Atreus was close by. The ghost of an embarrassed laugh huffed through his nose.
âI appreciate your restraint,â he deadpanned. He was going for humor but his sadness carried through sarcasm. It also carried him right through to gallows humor as he dug through the box for more decorations to place in the area. âAs fitting as a poisoning would be right about now, I think Iâm okay with missing out on that particular life experience. There were a few close calls in trying alien food around the galaxy anyway. Those have to count for something.â
Atreus smiled apologetically, though he didnât immediately jump into something sappy or about Keith. He assumed that Shiro wanted to avoid talking about things that hurt, and Atreus couldnât blame him for that. Grief was a messy, personal thing and heâd only learned that through trial and error. Mostly error. Shiro wasnât like Kratos in most ways, but echoes of conversations past had him shying away from pushing too hard.
He did frown at the idea of poison being fitting, though. âIce renders it null and void if you ever come across it, for the record. Fatherâs axe freezes them in place but other ice could work too.â Atreus sat back up and started tying off a large fake spider to dangle from the branch of the tree on the path. âWhatâs the worst alien food youâve eaten?â
Shiro came out of the box with more fake cobwebs and started stretching them across bushes. He appreciated that Atreus didnât take his morbid humor and try to comfort him. He very rarely let himself indulge in it, so it was a sign of trust that heâd done so now.
âIce might be hard to come up with on short notice, but Iâll keep that in mind,â he smirked. The question made him pause and glance off in thought. He didnât need a lot of time to mull it over, but the memory of all the paladins food fighting did catch in his chest. Turning back to the bush he was working on, he gave Atreus a sideways glance.
âDonât tell Allura this,â he murmured, âbut itâs really hard to beat Altean goo. It was practical, donât get me wrong. But the textureâŠâ He made a sour face to finish the thought.
The demi-god had started off letting his brain wander, musing over the possibilities of imbuing Shiroâs arm with runic magic, if that would even be possible. He wasnât sure why it wouldnât be, but that was a test for later. When he wasnât climbing around a tree like a monkey, hanging spooky objects. He ran ahead and jumped to the next one to start stringing more cobwebs from a vantage point that still gave him a nice view of Shiro.
Atreus immediately wrinkled his nose at the word goo, which didnât sound appealing at all. He could agree without ever even seeing it, in all honesty, even with as much as he enjoyed Alluraâs friendship and being at the castle. âYour secret is safe with me, because anything named goo really shouldnât be something you eat? Iâll never complain about roasted beaver again.â Now, being in a more modern time for the better part of the year, he could snort out an immature laugh at that comment.
âRoasted beaver.â That did startle a little laugh out of Shiro. It made sense, of course. He knew Atreus had lived a far more wild life at home and hunting played a part. It made him think of how Keith had to survive on a space whale for years and that thought frustrated him. Everything kept rolling back to Keith and he wondered if he shouldâve just holed up in his room and felt sorry for himself until he could be better at all of this.
He slumped down onto a rock and put his face in his hands. âSorry IâŠI can move onto placing those little glowing runes of yours next, I just need a second.â
Atreusâ face fell into a serious frown, suddenly concerned and pausing from his vantage point. Okay. Comfort? He froze, just for a second, trying to talk himself into what he should be doing. Instinct said he wanted to comfort, but historically speaking that was hit or miss.
He went with his instinct, in the end, and quietly hopped down from the tree heâd been dangling around. Without being invited, Atreus squeezed himself onto the rock next to Shiro and placed a warm hand in his friendâs shoulder, holding steady. âYou can have three or five seconds if you need them. Theyâre not going anywhere.â Atreus hesitated, before finally giving in. âDo you want to talk instead?â
The touch was comforting. Shiro didnât even jump this time. He just sagged a little, his shoulders rolling inward. Burdening his friends with things they couldnât change was not his favorite pastime. But he knew the benefit of talking about things too, even when you really, really didnât want to talk about things.
âIâm not sure what I can even say.â He pulled his hands away from his face, but stayed bent over with his elbows on his knees. âThis wouldâve hurt either way. IâveâŠIâve never done especially well with being apart from him. Iâve just gotten used to shoving it into a corner and getting on with things. But having it happen now?â He glanced over at Atreus, eyebrows pinched together and gaze wounded. âIt feels like a punishment.â
Atreus left his hand on Shiro, and squeezed it in comfort. He listened, quietly, letting his friend talk and get out anything he wanted to say. There were a dozen empty platitudes he could give, things that heâd heard from Mimir or Brok that involved maybe too much swearing or too little of what he really wanted to say.
âPeople say weâre supposed to appreciate what we do have, or to remember the good stuff and take that as comfort and learning, and they might be right? But also--â Atreus sighed, a long, drawn out sound that made him feel older than he was. âThat sucks, right? Like, it really really sucks. Thereâs no good in giving us things and taking them away before weâre ready, and I think itâs a bunch of magical bullshit. But I donât think youâve done anything to deserve being punished, even if it might feel like that.â
Shiro gave a sad but grateful little smile. Heâd expected platitudes and might have said some himself, honestly. He was occasionally guilty of it, after all. But hearing Atreus put it into simple words helped soothe some of the burn in his chest that threatened to make him emotional at any moment.
For now anyway.
He briefly closed his eyes and then looked out ahead of them. âIt really does suck,â he whispered. âI let myself get a little hopeful. To actually consider the future.â Huffing, he rubbed a hand over his face and mustered up a more genuine smile. âI havenât done that in a while. Itâs always easier to focus on immediate goals.â He said it like âImmediate - Goalsâ and he gestured with his hand in a slicing motion. It was a weak attempt to be humorous about his self-deprecation. âThe last time I thought further than the next crisis, it was to get to space.â
Atreus felt his brow furrow worryingly as he looked over at Shiro. It brought him back to the conversation heâd had with Torunn, when he didnât like admitting how everyone around him would grow old while he could remain any age he wanted to look. How immortality changed so many things, but he was still so young it hadnât actually affected him yet.
âI donât think you did anything wrong there, though. If you canât imagine a future, whatâs the point? Itâs-- It sucks, hurting more, but what choice is there? Happiness and passion for any amount of time will make you feel more alive than just⊠surviving.â Atreus mightâve gotten a little emotional with that, and flushed deep when he was done, embarrassed he let himself get that far ahead when it was supposed to be comforting to Shiro. âSorry-- I just think about this a lot. The hurt sucks, but you canât close yourself off.â
The feeling in Atreusâs speech earned him a wide-eyed glance and a gentle appraisal. Shiro often tried to put himself in other peopleâs shoes. To listen. He was empathetic by choice. Not even a healthy dose of loss stopped the instinct to really hear what Atreus was saying. He reached over and squeezed Atreusâs forearm.
âDonât be sorry. Youâre right. I know youâre right. I donât regretâŠâ Shiro blew out a loud breath and sat up straight. The burn behind his eyes intensified for a moment but he just sat very still until it passed. âI hate feeling sorry for myself,â he laughed, humorlessly. âAnd I donât use that word lightly.â
âI think youâre allowed to feel a little sorry for yourself.â Atreus volunteered, as if Shiro needed permission. Heâd slumped slightly after all of that, but bumped shoulders with Shiro in some kind of common uniting. âYouâll be with him again someday, here, there. I believe in that.â
But that was the useless platitudes he had promised himself he wouldnât say, and Atreus was quick to continue on. âBut in the meantime, it sucks. And we should test alcohol and shoot targets or something. Because thatâs what I think weâre supposed to do? Oh and I still want my hug.â Couldnât forget that part. Wouldnât forget that. Shiro had already agreed.
Shiro huffed out a little laugh. âA little, sure. I guess thatâs only fair.â He tried to strengthen his smile as he clapped a hand to Atreusâs back. As much as his heart felt heavy, it was somehow light too. âYouâre a very good friend. And Iâll definitely be taking you up on that drinking planâŠ.if maybe not the shooting plan? I suppose drinking and hoverbiking wonât mix.â
He shrugged, sheepishly, and leaned over to hug Atreus, pressing his face to Atreusâs shoulder in the process. It muffled his words. âThank you.â
Atreus leaned into the hug, letting it be firm and comforting as he possibly could, lingering before giving one final squeeze. There was no real hurry to pull away, selfishly. Atreus had not gone down the hug road much, his mother had hugged him a great deal as a young child, but beyond that, it was few and far between.
It didnât quite make up for not being able to hug Keith before he was gone, but it did give him a little hope that at least they both got a hug with each other just in case. That thought made him frown, though, and he was trying to cover it up when they pulled apart. âYouâre a good friend too, so thanks right back. Do you want to go finish setting stuff up with me or do you want me to leave you alone for a little while?â
Shiro didnât get a lot of hugging in his life either. Before Voltron, next to none; even when he wasnât too busy to get close to people, he was too worried theyâd figure out he was sick. It was a real comfort, here. Now. And he wasnât embarrassed to linger until he could pull away without feeling emotional tense at the back of his throat.
âI...Iâd rather stick close and help out.â Shiro pushed to his feet and moved towards his abandoned box. âThe last thing I want is to be alone.â