~:~ Barely Human ~:~

~:~ Chapter 3 - Smoke on the tongue ~:~

~ He felt as gloomy as the day was. Lying face up on his nearly too small of a bed and watching the rain drops lightly patter and splat against the windows that lathered his walls Keith was almost peaceful. Almost.

The breeze was warm, the land shrouded in a humid overlay and the sky was as grey as thick smoke. Keith would normally enjoy days like these, these were his peaceful days, sitting back and enjoying the smell of freshly soaked soil and recently showered flora. The dew in the grass glistened and sparkled like tiny forest fairies. The wonders that the calming serenity of a drop of rain synchronizing with an ankle deep puddle could give you.

These were Keith's favourite days. But how do you enjoy such a time when your chest is literally on fire?

He takes a deep breath but the inside of his rib cage was burning, searing hot. His skin was like the touch of smelted iron to him, he wondered how long he had to lay here before he burnt a hole through his bed and ended up on the floor beneath it. He didn't know why he was in this state, he'd woken up like this. Sweaty and sore. It was hard to breathe at first, his throat tasted like smoke, the backs of his eyes stung with tears as he waited it out, praying the fire would die down quickly. It took longer then he thought. The fire in his body was getting stronger with each passing day.

It wasn't unbearable now but he was still uncomfortable. He reached up slowly to lay his hand flat against the nice cool glass of his window beside him, before he'd even touched it the glass had fogged up with steam. Keith sighs and drops his arm over his eyes. How did he get in this state? This blaze in his body, what made it form? How was it even possible to manipulate fire at your own will? It was magic, but magic wasn't real.

As he lets out a deep breath, hot air leaves his lips. His brother appears at his door, to which was merely a thin curtain and stares at him.

"You've been in here for hours, we didn't even know you were awake let alone alive." Shiro jokes, folding his arms and leaning against the wardrobe. Keith doesn't look at him.

"Leave me alone." He mumbles and rolls over so he's facing the wall. Shiro raises a brow.

"Oh no, please I thought we got over that phase." Shiro shakes his head and looks out the window. Their backyard is gloomy and the rain is thin and pretty through the fine old trees. Keith sucks in a deep breath, praying the fire in his chest calms down. Shiro doesn't say anything for a few seconds, then Keith hears him shuffle over and open one of the windows. Instantly Keith's room is filled to the brim with the scent of rain, Keith feels calm as this fresher air fills his lungs. The fire eases.

"At least come out and eat something. Mom made sandwiches." Shiro tells him, Keith's stomach rolls and he groans lightly. He turns over and the brothers meet gazes. Keith stares at him lazily, Shiro waits patiently a second or so before he adds; "She bought Nutella."

"I'm up." Keith says, throwing himself on to his feet. Shiro rolls his eyes and turns to leave. When he's finally gone Keith leans against his dresser, holding an arm to his stomach and taking deep breaths one at a time. His body hurts, like he's been sunburnt all over. He closes his eyes and gives himself a few seconds before he's slowly leaving the cool, quiet of his room.

He's met with somewhat staticky radio music and the scent of dish soap when he finds himself in the kitchen. Shiro is sitting at the breakfast bar with a sandwich in his mouth and phone in hand, moms fluffing about and dad's sitting out on the porch couch with a news paper. Keith lets his eyes roam around their bare dining room. There wasn't even a table.

He scratches his stomach under his shirt and yawns as he takes a seat on the bar stool they'd bought the day they'd got here. He grabs a sandwich cut to a perfect triangle and inspects it. His mom had even cut off the crust for them like she did when the boys were little. He doesn't smile but he feels one inside.