The castle-ship had a steady hum at night, low and constant like a lullaby. Most nights, it was enough to help the team rest—even after missions that had gone sideways or drills that left everyone sore. But lately, there was a different kind of tension hanging in the air, subtle but heavy. It followed Shiro like a quiet shadow.

At first, no one said much. Allura noticed it in the way he lingered in the training room, pushing himself longer than needed. Hunk saw it in the way he picked at his food but didn’t eat. Pidge caught the pattern in the castle’s logs—Shiro was up at odd hours, wandering the halls or posted near the windows. But it was Keith who saw through him the most.

One morning, Keith caught him stumbling out of his room, shoulders stiff, eyes hollow.

“You didn’t sleep again.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re lying.”

Shiro didn’t respond. He just moved past him, the air between them thick with things unsaid.

Later that night, Keith stayed up, sitting outside Shiro’s door, waiting. Just after 3 a.m., he heard it—muffled sounds, harsh breathing, the thud of someone trying to wake from something terrible. Keith was inside before he could think twice.

Shiro was sitting up in bed, drenched in sweat, chest heaving. He looked more lost than Keith had ever seen him.

“I’m here,” Keith said softly, climbing onto the bed and sitting beside him. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

Shiro’s hands trembled. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not,” Keith replied, steady and sure. “You’ve carried us long enough. Let us carry you now.”

Shiro let out a shaky breath. And for the first time in days, he didn’t push someone away.

Keith stayed, sitting with his back against the headboard, letting Shiro lean into him until the tremors in his hands stilled. They didn’t speak for a while, the silence speaking louder than words. Keith reached over and tucked the blanket around them both.

“I’ll stay here tonight,” he whispered, his voice almost too quiet.

Shiro didn’t protest. He just nodded, his eyes already closing again—not in fear this time, but with something like trust. A small breath of peace settled over him.

Keith stayed awake long after Shiro had fallen asleep, watching the rise and fall of his chest. He made a quiet promise to himself, then: no matter how many nightmares came, no matter how many bad nights stacked up—he would be there.

Always.