When it happens, it’s nothing and everything Keith thought it would be – bloody, messy, unexpected.
Shiro stands before him yet there’s no recognition in his eyes. Only destruction, pain, and a bestial ferocity reminiscent of the Galra. There’s not a trace of him left in the vessel that was once his body.
Keith grips his bayard tightly, grits his teeth. He knows he’s only stalling, holding on to the hope that Shiro will still come back like he always does. But Keith’s ribs are broken, his right leg has gone numb, and his fingers have instinctively wrapped themselves around the microbomb trigger.
Shiro had been the one to insist on it, had Pidge manufacture the tiny destructive chip and had Coran inject it into the sweet spot in his neck. Keith remembers wanting to break down when it’s him that Shiro entrusts the detonator to.
Sometimes he can just be as cruel as he is kind.
Now there’s nothing left of that kindness, consumed by the overwhelming dark that has been lurking inside him, slowly eating away at the man Keith has long since sworn his heart to.
This time, he’s just not coming back anymore.
Keith drops his bayard, stands his ground.
All too quickly, a glowing metal arm pierces through his armor and punctures a hole in his chest, and Keith feels numb, feels oddly liberated. He holds Shiro tight against his broken bloodied frame, rests his head one final time against his shoulder.
“Takashi,” he whispers, and suddenly there’s noise, there’s smoke, there’s blood and gore.