[ keith gives himself up to all of these vague inklings with such little pause, that it baffles shiro to even think about.

but then again, they keep getting chances to forget each other. the alleyway could've been a one time thing. and so could've been the break-in, and that same awkward night where the mobs took to the streets, and keith had huddled into his bed to wait it out. they keep coming back to each other in the end, and he keeps finding himself watching keith with his wild hair and lost eyes, thinking that eventually the mystery will unravel itself.

but it's stranger that there are moments like this, too. keith closes his fingers around his arm, and the weight is familiar; and nothing else matters, because at least they're together again.

i'm glad to be back. ]

. . . it's so strange.

[ he doesn't remember the race, but he remembers some suspended moment, the smoke burning acrid in his nostrils, and an engine's rickety breakdown.

the bike tipping over.

it isn't completely conscious, when he lifts a hand to press his palm to keith's knuckles. ]

The dreams that I had of you and me were so clear.

But these . . . images are all so foggy. And yet, how is it that we're having similar hallucinations?

. . . do you remember a crash, too?