Chapter Text
Keith's morning had gone by much like normal: get ready for work, skip breakfast (he hated eating that early in the morning), grab his jacket and apartment keys, say goodbye to his tenant, Ms. Landon, and walk to his job at the little cafe on the corner of a busy street.
What he hadn't expected was for the owner of the cafe to scream at two gay customers for simply walking in and trying to order coffee together. He hadn't expected her to wheel on him, nostrils flaring and lip curling in disgust and anger, and demand him to kick both of the frightened girls out of the place.
He'd been so angry. It had felt like a fire was burning from his chest and spreading up, out of his mouth into the scathing words he delivered to his boss and the owner of the cafe, calling her out on her homophobia and accidentally outing himself as gay in the process. He'd been fired on the spot. Instead of arguing, he'd simply left, knowing it was better to calm down in his apartment instead of fighting back and making the whole situation worse.
That had been a month ago. Now, Ms. Landon was pushing him out the door of the apartment complex into the cold winter air.
"Ms. Landon, please! I can get you the money," Keith tried desperately. "Just give me a little more time!"
"Mr. Kogane! You are four months behind on your payments. There's nothing I can do. I can't keep giving you more time to find a job. It's not my fault you got fired from that cafe. Hell, you couldn't even pay your bills when you worked there!" she said in exasperation. "I'm sorry, but I cannot let you stay here any longer. I told you this weeks ago."
She turned around and began going back inside.
"Wait!" Keith begged. "Please, there must be some way to let me stay."
"No, Mr. Kogane, I've already given you too many chances," she said, closing the door.
"But, I-"
The door shut.
"Don't have anywhere to go," Keith finished quietly.
He sighed heavily and turned away from the apartment complex to face the world in front of him. He wasn't certain where to start. His older brother, Shiro, had left town to move in with his girlfriend, so Keith wasn't going to be able to stay with them in their cramped apartment. He knew his brother would try to make room anyway, but he didn't want to put that kind of pressure on him. Plus, Keith hated having to depend on other people for help. He preferred to be independent.
Wondering how much money he had, Keith rummaged in his backpack that held all his belongings but was disappointed to find only a few crumpled one dollar bills.
Okay, he thought. A plan. Just gotta think of a plan.
After a few minutes of deliberation, Keith decided that one night in the park where many of the homeless slept wouldn't be the worst thing ever even if there was a lot of snow. He hoped that if he could get through the night he would be able to figure something out in the morning.
Keith began to make his way to the public park, taking his time and admiring the white scenery around him.
Keith breathed in the icy December air and shivered a little as a biting wind raced down the street, rolling over him and causing his jacket to whip around his body. As much as he missed the warmth and comfort of summer (and his apartment), there was something calming and pure about winter that left Keith in awe, lost in his own world, as snowflakes tumbled and drifted down to the already snow-covered ground. It was beautiful. It was peaceful. It was...
...interrupted by a short, high-pitched screech and a collision which sent Keith to the icy ground where he landed hard on his back with a loud grunt.
"Hey, watch where you're..." he trailed off as he opened his eyes and his vision was filled by brilliant, electric blue eyes, annoyingly perfect tan skin, a smattering of freckles, and short, wavy brown hair. A boy--probably close to Keith's age--had landed on top of him and was propping himself up on his hands and elbows, staring down at him.
"...going," Keith finished his sentence quietly.
The two stared into each others' eyes for what seemed to Kieth like an eternity but was, in reality, mere seconds. The short moment was interrupted by the crunching of ice and snow underfoot and the flash of cameras.
The boy who had landed on top of Keith quickly jumped to his feet and held out a hand for Keith to take. Without making a conscious decision, Keith took it and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet again. When the boy let go, Keith found himself missing the contact.
Suddenly, cameras and microphones were thrust in their faces.
"Mr. McClain, who is this?" asked one reporter excitedly.
"What's your name?" The questions were now being thrown at Keith.
"Who are you?"
"How do you know Lance McClain?"
"What is your relationship with Mr. McClain?"
The attention was overwhelming and Keith felt suddenly vulnerable and uncomfortable. He couldn't even open his mouth to attempt to answer any of the questions.
The beautiful boy--Lance--seemed to notice Keith's discomfort and panic and stepped in front of him to shield him from the bombardment of the reporters.
"Guys, please-" he tried, but the reporters spoke over him.
"Are you two together?"
"Are you gay?"
"Is this how you're rebounding from Nyma?"
"Is this your new boyfriend?"
Keith noticed Lance struggling to keep himself together. The smile he wore was strained and weary.
Leaning forward, he whispered in Lance's ear, "Trust me and run."
Quickly, Keith grabbed Lance's hand and ran. Together, the two boys dashed hand-in-hand down the park's path, leaving the reporters far behind. When he was sure that they had escaped, Keith stopped and reluctantly released Lance's hand.
"I'm really sorry," Lance spoke up. Keith decided he had a nice voice. "About all of that."
"Which part?" asked Keith with a smirk. "The reporters or you knocking me into the snow?"
Lance grinned. "Both."
And there they were again, staring into each others' eyes for no obvious reason in a comfortable silence.
Keith shivered. The snow had soaked through his thin jacket and he could feel the cold seeping into his skin. Lance immediately took notice and shrugged out of his own jacket, offering it to him.
"Shit, sorry, you must be freezing," he said. "Here."
"I-"
"Dude, don't even try to argue. You're cold. Take the jacket," Lance said. "Please."
Keith reached out and took the jacket from Lance, slipping it on with as much ease as he could while shivering.
"Thanks," he said.
"Don't mention it," Lance replied, smiling. "Hey, where do you live? That's not meant to sound creepy, I swear! I was just gonna offer you a ride home. It's the least I could do."
"Thanks, but, uh, I can walk. I don't live far," Keith lied. He didn't want Lance to pity him, so he chose not to tell him about the fact that he had just been kicked out of his apartment.
"You sure? Because I don't mind. Really."
"Yes, I'm sure!" Keith barked.
He instantly regretted being so rude when Lance's face fell. He hadn't meant to be so rude. He was just upset and cold and hungry and tired.
"Sorry, sorry," Keith said, shaking his head. "I just--sorry. Shit, sorry."
Feeling awful, he simply followed his instincts and ran. He raced out of the park, ignoring Lance's shouts of surprise and pleas to come back. It wasn't until after he had sprinted to another public park that he realized he was still wearing Lance's jacket.
Miserable and exhausted, he sat down on the cold ground next to a leafless tree and leaned against it. As the sun set, he let his eyes droop and he soon fell asleep, curled up in the warm jacket.