Hidden Messages [Klance AU]

12: Lonely Lullabies

    Dear Keith,

Why do you hate the ocean so much?

It seems to me like you're more scared of what happened to your brother than the actual ocean. Speaking of that... it sounds to me like you have PTSD. Do you want to talk about it? It might help, I hope. I wish I could help you, but I don't even know you. But hey... I guess you could say I can relate to you, a little bit. Not about the whole brother thing, but the panic attack part. Let's just say I've had my fair share of dealing with that. You may feel like it won't ever get better, but it does. I promise. You'll just have to wait and see. Don't give up yet.

I bet if you opened your mind you'd learn that the ocean isn't so bad.

The thin paper crumpled in Keith's hands. He looked up, not at anything specifically. His eyes were wet with tears. It wasn't exactly from reading the letter, though. That mostly just caused shock and confusion. After the events with Pidge, for some reason he couldn't stop crying. Every time Keith thought he was done, something else would happen to cause him to break down again. I guess I've held it in for so long that the second something happens, I can't stop.

Keith wiped his tears and tried to focus his attention on the paper in his hands. Somehow, someone had found his letter and responded to it. That, or there was some sort of strange ocean spirit that could send letters... Keith really hoped it wasn't the latter. But, whoever did send the letter knew his name and that he was the one who wrote the original. A shiver went through Keith's body. It was unsettling.

But, even though he was a bit creeped out by the letter there was also a small feeling of relief in Keith's heart. He was happy that someone understood how he felt, at least a little bit. Whoever it was seemed nice enough, and it was much easier for him to write his thoughts down than speak them.

All this made Keith decide that he was going to do exactly that— write another letter in response. But, not now. The procrastinator in him didn't have the energy to do anything but try to get some sleep. Keith left the letter open on his desk then crawled into bed. He rubbed his knees together rapidly, longing for warmth that wasn't there.

What seemed like hours later, Keith was still awake. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea for him to have gotten into bed. He, and literally anyone else, should have known that he wasn't going to fall asleep that easily. The boy was only asking for himself to become drowned in his thoughts. Things like, it's useless, stop having hope for something that's never going to happen, and it's never going to end, filled his mind. He started to word out in his head the letter he'd write in return.

To whoever it may concern: I still hate the ocean. You can't change that. I'll always hate the ocean for what it did to him. It's been years and I'm still not over it. It's been years of me waiting for the day that I'll finally be rid of this awful curse that is my life.

... my brother always said that "patience yields focus," but I don't know how much longer I can wait. Maybe this is all a waste of time...

who am I kidding? He's not coming back. He's... he's not coming back. What am I doing? I should just get over it already, move on.

It started raining. At some point Keith started crying.

At some point he felt a strange warmth surround him. There were muffled whispers he couldn't quite make out... but it was calming. There was something about this— this warmth that scared away the cold in the room, and in Keith.

All of a sudden he wasn't cold anymore, he could tell his own shivering had stopped. Tears still fell down his face, but it almost now felt good. Like his body had been waiting for ages to let them go, and he finally let himself do so.