keith had made a quiet art of avoiding the medical bay.

coran’s concerned glances hadn’t gone unnoticed, and nor had shiro—hovering in doorways instead of crossing the threshold. keith assumed he looked at him like he was something newly broken, even if he was merely expressing brotherly concern for the red paladin.

you certainly weren’t supposed to be in his room. technically, no one was. so when the door slid open with that hydraulic sigh and you stood there—sent by shiro with one of those vague just check on him assignments—keith didn’t so much as flinch.

he looked awful. not the usual post-mission ruggedness, where his eyes glittered with adrenaline. his armor had been left in disarray near the foot of his bed, as though he’d torn it off. jagged lacerations striped his ribs, wrapped haphazardly in cloth to hide angry violet bruising. his ink black hair mirrored the chaos of his thoughts, mouth a thin line. he hadn't slept.

you were not the best candidate for a diplomatic outreach, because the simmering outrage he felt did not mesh with his distrust of you.

“—do i look okay?” keith demanded, too sharp, too fast. then, quieter: “sorry. i just... don’t want to deal with this right now.” his voice broke in that raw cadence of someone whose walls had been holding back something much uglier.

knowledge or death. he had chosen knowledge; which confirmed the inkling that had been simmering in his gut since they had met ulaz.

“they won’t understand,” he said. “allura won’t understand. you don’t get it. i’m—i’m not even—” he exhaled, clawing fingers through his hair as if the words stung. “i’m half galra. happy?” he spat, voice colder now. “i didn’t ask to be part of some alien bloodline that makes me a threat. but that’s what it means, doesn’t it? that’s what she’ll see. what they’ll all see.”

“so if you’re gonna report that back to them, go ahead,” he said flatly as he turned away from you, the violet glow from his blade of marmora dagger casting long shadows against the walls. “get it over with.”