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keithbutgay · 1 year

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Letters to You (a platonic Kidge fic)

(What if Lotor never arrived? What if Keith's Naxzela plan had actually gone through? What if Pidge started writing letters to him to cope?)

CW: implied sh, implied ed, implied self-sacrifice, death, depression (I'm sorry guys)

~~~

A while ago, I was talking to you. It wasn’t our last conversation, We were at my house, eating candy and talking about nothing and everything.

You were lecturing me on taking care of myself, and mentioned a friend of yours who had broken their ribs from binding unhealthily.

You were always such a hypocrite, as much as you liked to deny it. You were worse at taking care of yourself than I was.

I asked you if the friend was okay, and you looked at me, bluntly stating that they were dead.

I didn’t know how to respond then. I don’t really know now.

You said you shouldn’t be joking about having dead friends.

But guess who has the dead friend now, Keith?

Guess who?

~~~

I was going through my texts and found the conversation between the two of us.

I started scrolling through it, and amid all of the 2 am talks about cheese, the interesting facts, the cartoon shows, I found it.

It was after you had joined the Blade. You’d never messaged me before then.

You told me you missed me, let me know that you were visiting. But we never did plan anything, did we Keith?

I should have said something sooner. I should have written back. I knew I should have.

But I didn’t.

And look where we are now.

~~~

You used to always joke that I couldn’t listen to Ricky Montgomery.

I used to always joke that you couldn’t listen to Mother Mother.

It was our little thing (we listened to both anyway).

And when our dysphoria got too bad, we could just joke that we should switch bodies. (I always was jealous of your height)

Your sense of humor might have been more than a little skewed.

But it was okay.

Because we could be skewed together.

~~~

There’s someone at the Garrison who kind of looks like you.

I keep seeing them around.

They tied their hair back today, making it look short, and I saw you.

But it wasn’t you.

It will never be you.

I should really be used to that.

~~~

I text the others every so often.

I hear I’m the only one they’ll talk to anymore. You’d think that would make me feel special, but it really hurts.

Lance still loves you, Keith. He never got over you. He wants you to come back. Needs you to. We all do.

But not even the others will message him. Not after he asked to talk to you one too many times.

One of the others texted me this morning, at 4 am. I could have cried when I saw the notification.

It’s been so long since I’ve talked with any of you.

And yet this person missed me. This person wants to see me.

But you’re gone.

How long can I handle another person in your place?

Meeting up with them might end up being the hardest thing I’ll have to do for a while.

It hurts just to see your face.

~~~

You told me you were Galra before you told the rest of the crew. I guess you thought I’d be more likely to understand you.

I didn’t believe you at first.

Maybe because I didn’t want to. I was scared, we all were. But you had always acted and looked so human… I didn’t see how you could ever be a monster, like they are. Like the ones who took my family.

But as soon as I thought about it, I knew you wouldn’t be lying about that. And maybe I noticed a few signs every so often. The impeccable night vision, the sharp canines, the colorblindness.

I guess it all makes sense now.

Despite all this, I never thought of you as any different than who you were before. I never treated you any different.

Maybe if I had, you wouldn’t be gone.

~~~

I went to your house once. Before Kerberos, before you were expelled.

Did you even remember that?

We played Identity V, and KillBot, and Cards Against Humanity (much to Matt’s amusement and Shiro’s horror).

I bought that game. Did I ever tell you that?

I bought Cards Against Humanity because us playing that game is one of the only memories I have of you.

I can’t lose that.

~~~

I’m sorry.

I’m so, so sorry.

I’m sorry I ruined your last moments with your boyfriend.

I’m sorry I didn’t hug you goodbye.

I’m sorry I let you go.

I’m sorry that I acted like I didn’t care, that I brushed it all off.

I’m so sorry, Keith.

I’m so sorry for everything.

~~~

Maybe it’s pointless to write all of this.

It’s not like you will ever read it.

I guess it’s just been pent-up for too long.

It’s been so long, Keith.

I don’t understand.

I suppose I might never truly understand.

~~~

You were one of the only people who knew about my scars.

You had the same ones.

You called them your “barcodes”, held our arms together and joked that we were matching.

I never knew how to respond to that.

Mine were only faint white marks, so old they were hardly visible against my skin. Yours were red and harsh, lining your thighs, your arms, your hips.

You never did let me check for fresh wounds. Now, I regret not pushing harder.

I used to constantly be so confused how you would always convince others to eat, even as you skipped meals for days at a time.

I didn’t get how you would go to any length to stop a friend from hurting themself, even as white scars lined your arms.

I never understood how you would be so persistent about not suppressing your emotions while pushing down an anxiety attack.

You were always brushing aside your own problems. You always seemed so figured out.

I had never realized.

~~~

One time Hunk tried to stop me from stimming and you called him ableist because I’m neurodivergent.

I was so confused at the time. I hadn’t told anyone I was autistic.

I texted you about it later. You brushed it off, saying that you had a kind of gaydar for neurodivergent people.

When someone’s closest friends are all ADHD and autistic, they begin to notice a few things.

I never guessed that other people would notice as well.

I have a new friend now. Their name is Sophie.

You would like them. You’re a lot alike.

They are the best friend I’ve had in a really, really long time. And probably the closest.

They’re a hybrid too. Part Olkari, part human.

But I know they’re not leaving me. Or at least any time soon.

~~~

I get angry about it sometimes. Did you really think we could ever forget about you?

Why didn’t you try harder? Why wouldn’t you fight back? Why couldn’t you have just fucking stayed?

The Blade was putting so many things into your head, Keith. Couldn’t you tell?

Knowledge or death. That’s the reason you aren’t standing before me anymore. That’s the reason I can’t hear your breathing in the room next door.

That’s the reason I relapsed last night.

You never had to leave us.

You never needed to sacrifice yourself.

It wasn’t the only option.

It won’t ever be.

~~~

I had a dream last night.

You were in it.

I didn’t want to wake up.

~~~

I haven’t been able to sleep recently.

Thoughts of you plague my mind.

It makes me feel sick, thinking about how you died. If Matt hadn’t told us… I don’t know what would have happened. We might have never noticed.

That terrifies me.

It terrifies me that you felt that the only way to stop the bomb was to explode your ship.

It terrifies me that we unknowingly egged you on, told you to do it. We congratulated you. Good job Keith! You did it!

It terrifies me that you died thinking we hated you. You died before we could apologize for the harsh looks thrown, for the angry words, for making you feel expendable.

But most of all?

It terrifies me that if no one had told us you were dead, we would never have realized on our own. We would still be going to parties, doing shows, fighting the Empire.

We would have assumed you thought you were too good for us, off on some Blade mission that didn’t really matter.

It’s the thoughts like those that really make me feel sick to my stomach.

Here’s to another sleepless night, I guess.

~~~

I almost threw away these letters.

But as soon as I tried to let them go, I started crying so hard I couldn’t convince myself to drop them.

I clung to them as if they were the only thing keeping me alive. Keeping you alive.

I suppose they are, in a way.

~~~

You came into my room once when neither of us could sleep.

I was playing the video game we got from the space mall, Kill Bot Phantasm 1. I didn’t notice you coming in. None of us ever did. We used to joke about putting a bell around your neck.

You saw my posters, walls covered with cryptids and podcasts. Mothman and the Loch Ness Monster and Welcome to Night Vale.

I don’t think I had ever seen you so excited.

We talked for hours about evidence and theories, finally able to talk cryptozoology to someone who understood and was willing to listen.

You asked to play the game with me. I was more than happy to play with you.

The next morning, Lance came into the room to find the two of us asleep, my head on your shoulder, the screen still on.

He teased me for weeks about that.

I think he was just jealous.

~~~

Something’s wrong with Shiro, Keith.

I can’t tell what’s different. You probably could have. But you were so excited to have your brother back… it blinded you.

I hate not knowing. I feel so stupid. Something’s clearly off.

Maybe he’s just grieving.

That’s more than just a possible answer, I suppose.

I wish you’d come back like Shiro did.

But I guess not all of us are so lucky.

~~~

I found Cards Against Humanity. It was in a small metal box in the corner. I don’t even remember bringing it into space.

It’s not like I could play by myself, but I sifted through the cards, looking for the ones we’d used that day.

I pulled them out, laying them on the floor.

I sat there for a long time, crying and staring at those stupid cards.

Guess I’ll be the one advocating for a team game night tonight.

~~~

I know these letters are pointless.

But they’re the only thing that’s left of you. Or at least the only thing that’s mine.

Lance took your jacket. He says it smells like you. He’ll sleep with it occasionally, head buried in its folds, his eyes red and puffy.

I guess I’ve been pretty selfish with these letters.

You would have wanted to know how the others were doing.

If I’m being honest, they’re not doing well. Your death hit us all hard, and I’m not even sure you realized.

You thought you were doing the right thing. You didn’t see any other way. Good job, Keith.

Shiro is staying up later and later, hacking away at the training bots like you used to do. His decisions have become more and more reckless, and truthfully, I don’t know how long we can keep up with it.

Lance barely sleeps either, but instead of training, he’s playing video games, or reading, or staring at the wall. Sometimes he refuses to even leave his room, and I keep catching glimpses of little crescent-shaped scars on his arms, like he was digging his nails into his skin. He does that a lot, when he thinks no one can hear him cry. When no one can see him bleed.

Hunk has been cooking. A lot. Normally I wouldn’t complain, but it’s getting worrisome. Cooking and baking have always been his outlet, a way for him to vent his emotions and turn them into food. Now, the castle is full of food. It’s like he physically can’t stop.

He cries a lot, too. I can hear through his door, and I think my heart breaks more with every sob.

Allura is a lot more quiet. Less demanding. I think she blames herself for your death, as if her accepting you sooner would have stopped you from ramming your ship into that stupid barrier.

And to be completely truthful… There are times when I’ve believed the same.

Coran has quieted, too. He keeps trying to act cheerful like he usually does, but every joke falls flat. I think he understands, but it hurts to see the downtrodden expression on his face every time he fails to make us smile. It’s as if he’s become more muted.

I'm not sure who else there is to talk about besides... well... Matt.

I think he might have taken your death the hardest out of everyone here. And that's saying something.

He hardly eats anymore. Barely sleeps. He's practically stopped talking, Keith. I don't know what to do.

You were one of his oldest friends, second only to Shiro. He blames himself for your death, both regret and survivor's guilt weigh heavy on him.

He was the one to watch you fly. He was the one to yell at you to stop. He was the one to see as you crashed, as the barrier went down.

He was the one to tell us about your death.

I think he loved you. He probably still does.

He's really hurting, Keith. We all are.

It's days like today that I doubt I'll be leaving my lab any time soon.

~~~

I was sitting in your room a few days ago when I found your knife hidden under your mattress. The one from your mother, from the Blade of Marmora.

I’m not sure I’ve ever missed you more.

~~~

We’re doing a mission with the Blade of Marmora today.

I have mixed feelings about the Blade, if I’m being honest. After all, it was the Blade who killed you. The Blade, with their stupid sayings and stupid mantras about “knowledge or death.” and “the mission is more important than the individual”.

It’s not. It never is.

The individual is always more important. Especially when it was you. When it wasn’t the only way.

I’m scared, Keith. I’m really scared.

I can’t lose anyone else. I can’t lose anyone to another fucking mission.

Not again.

~~~

I think I might have to stop these letters soon.

I suppose I ran out of things to say to you.

I never thought that would happen.

But I guess it’s as good a time as any to finally let you go.

Goodbye, Keith.

I love you. I will miss you for as long as I live.

Your best friend forever and ever,

Pidge

~~~

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