Of course he was famous after the war. He was one of the Paladins of Voltron, the leader of Voltron. Of course all of the people who'd gone to the Galaxy Garrison Space Program with him and after him were going crazy over the fact that the brooding emo kid who'd gotten himself expelled for disciplinary issues was the war hero of their time. And of course he was grateful for the admiration, it wasn't as if he'd protected Earth for the goal of becoming famous, but the recognition of his efforts was nice. Of course it was.

But it was hard to adjust. He'd spent three years in space, fighting an intergalactic war that he hadn't signed up for. He was only a late teenager when he started--eighteen, but still. He was too young to have had to deal with that. And coming home only made it stranger. Every time he tried to reconnect, even just to admire his home planet that he'd risked life and limb to protect, his mind wandered. It wandered to how he was grateful to be there, then it wandered to what he'd had to go through to come back.

Even with the other Paladins,, and all the support and celebration. He couldn't get a handle on everything. All the times he'd nearly died or watched his friends in that situation. A lot of good came from being up there; he'd found himself friends, family, his mother, and he'd saved countless lives. Millions; at the same time, he'd experienced having his very life force drained from his body, he'd had to fight whole fleets of troops as a teenager in a giant robot. Now, all he had become was 'same old Keith'. Quiet, introspective. Even now that he was more open and the Garrison had extended their grounds to nearby his home, hoping he'd become a role model for new cadets. Such a difference to when he was enrolled there.

Here he was sat, outside his crappy little house on the beach that he was still living in despite everything offered, staring at the sky and the ocean as the stars started to show. And he was trying to appreciate it without being stricken with horror.