Writing The Tides

Dépaysement (n.)

"Ocean. I got the fucking ocean", Keith muttered to himself, he was lying across his bed, shaking.
His first day back had been perfectly legit, asides from the fact his writing final would have to be based off the thing he hated the most.

It wasn't like his hatred had come without cause. Keith just didn't have any good memories with water. 

He felt his eyes tear up at the horrid memories.

It was raining, Keith recalled. It was raining hard when it happened. 

His parents, his real parents, had told him they'd be taking a cruise. It was supposed to be fun. 

They weren't supposed to drown.

They weren't supposed to die.

They weren't supposed to leave their 10 year old son to defend for himself. They weren't supposed to leave him, stuck in a seemingly endless cycle of foster homes.

'I shouldn't have lived either', Keith used to tell himself constantly. The thoughts were coming back now, after being buried for so long.

So he did the one thing he knew he could do.

He called Shiro.

Shiro, being Shiro, saw this as a perfect opportunity to get rid of Keith's fears and "face them head on like the smart young man he was". 

Keith groaned at the universe's blatant hatred towards him and picked up his notepad.
He jotted down words that reminded him of the ocean, to get his mind working.

1) Death

2) Parents

3) Lost 

4) Pretty terrible tbh

"Okay then", Keith stated, looking at his brief list. He clicked his pen in annoyance before calling it a day and turning on the t.v.

Right when he'd settled down on the couch his phone rang.

A familiar pale face shone through the screen. 

"Shiro?" Keith questioned through the speaker.

"Come outside, now" Shiro demanded, practically squealing.

Keith raised one brow curiously, before making his way through the door.