*coughs up blood* p-parkour continuation, death by arahir's writing is how I wanna go... ur too good I love you omg.
yo here have some passably cute and anguished parkour
sheith parkour au part 3: matt falls into a romantic comedy by accident
I’m disowning you.
Matt doesn’t talk to Shiro for a full twenty four hours. Not because he’s mad, but because he can’t look at Shiro without his bright eyes and his red face and Keith’s soft little Sir playing on loop in his mind.
It’s the like an intrusive thought, but instead of something innocuous like wanting to drop his phone off the side of the Garrison, he wants to jam his head against the wall until the memory is gone or he sustains permanent brain damage.
He’s about thirty seconds from giving in when the door to their room slams open—actually slams—and Shiro flings himself inside.
“Someone sent him flowers,” he moans in absolute agony. Shiro should be at lunch, far away from Matt, which means he actually hunted Matt down in their rooms to cry about this, which—
“Wait, what? Flowers?” Matt asks, because it rings a bell in the worst way.
“I knew this would happen,” Shiro mutters, not listening. “He’s got that hair and the legs and the accent…”
Keith has at least two of those things, but so do most people, and there’s no way two people at the Garrison have been bewitched by that hair. It’s not statistically possible. “How did they send him flowers all the way out here? How did you even find out?”
Shiro flops down on his bed and pulls his pillow over his face in a fair imitation of a distraught teen girl. “Iverson,” he says into the cloth, followed by something long and moaning that Matt can’t make out, which is probably for the best.