*kicks door down* JUST LIKE HEAVEN SHEITH AU PART 1.
Keith is a resident surgeon at Altea General Hospital and is working his ASS OFF to become the head of neurology. A lot of his co-workers think he works way too much, sacrificing sleep and any social life he could have. Allura, the Chief of Surgery, often has to force him to go home
One night while driving home, after working for 36 hours, he’s on the phone with his best friend Katie who’s urging him to not bail on the date she’d set up for him weeks ago. “I’m not bailing, just a little late,” Keith explains through a deep yawn. “Long shift. I’ll be there soon.” Katie assures him that it’s fine since the guy’s a little late as well.
After hanging up the phone, Keith falls asleep behind the wheel for just a second but long enough for him to have a head-on collision with a semi-truck…
Shiro is an army vet who has been discharged with a purple heart for having lost his arm in combat. He has since then received a fully functioning prosthetic but still finds most of his comfort at the bottom of a beer bottle. He got evicted from his last apartment and now has to find a new one.
After striking out several times, Shiro finally finds a simple but nice apartment that he can sublet on his decent salary as a landscape architect. He still doesn’t get out much and spends a lot of his time at home drinking and sketching out plans
One night, after walking out of the kitchen, he sees a man looking to be in his mid-20s just standing in the middle of his living room. Both of them scream, the beer Shiro just cracked open spraying everywhere.
Keith: “What the hell, what are you doing in my apartment?! And why are you spraying beer everywhere?” Shiro: “Wh-what?! YOUR apartment?” Keith: “Yes, my apartment. And look at this mess you made. Look, I can give you some money for a cab or something, but you have to go.” Sheith: “I… What? I don’t want any money. I live here.” Keith, bewildered: “You can’t live here because I live here. This is my apartment. That’s my couch. Look, this cushion has a stain where I spilled cough syrup on–”
His voice cuts off when he reaches for the pillow, and his hand goes straight through it. “What… what’s going on here? What did you do to my pillow?” Shiro: “Nothing, I… are you a.. How did you even get in here?” Shiro already had his suspicion but they were crazy. Ghosts weren’t real, and they certainly didn’t take the form of cute guys in ripped jeans and a leather jacket.
Keith: “What do you mean? I’ve been here the entire time. How did YOU get in here? Look, I’m sorry, but if you don’t leave now, I’m calling the police.” He strode into the kitchen where the phone was, and Shiro followed in after him, but to his shock, the man was no where to be found. Christ, did he just hallucinate that whole thing? Maybe Hunk was right; he did drink too much.
I see in the fight club the strongest and smartest men who’ve ever lived.
I see all this potential and I see squandering.
God damn it, an entire generation pumping gas, waiting tables, slaves with white collars, advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don’t need.
We’re the middle children of the history man, no purpose or place, we have no Great war, no Great depression, our great war is a spiritual war, our great depression is our lives, we’ve been all raised by television to believe that one day we’d all be millionaires and movie gods and rock stars, but we won’t and we’re slowly learning that fact. And we’re very very pissed off.