[Keith goes down on the bed without an argument, or even words at all at first, his eyes lowered -- internally building up his mental struggle in the time it took them to get to Shiro's room, like he was suddenly flooded with thoughts over this whole situation, this whole... day, really, like there's been so much and his brain is mush to properly process any of it. He can't think but he's also thinking too much, all at once.
When Shiro's hand lands on his chest, it's steadying but also - also -- It only takes as much as Shiro spends lingering near Keith, murmuring those words, for Keith to find his own hand grasping onto Shiro's forearm. He lifts his eyes again then, fixing them up at him, something insistent in his expression, almost... begging.]
Shiro.
[There's the barest tremble in his grip but at the same time, the hold is so steady, like he wouldn't let go for anything in the world.]