So I wanna write a quarantine fic where Keith and Shiro live next door to each other in an apartment block and there's 6 feet between their balconies.

Shiro rarely sees his neighbour because as a personal trainer he keeps odd hours. Seems odd that with the isolation order

his neighbour's flat remains silent.

Had he moved out? Did something happen? But Shiro didn't think it was any of his business. He had to worry about his own food management and supplies, worry about his clients that he won't be able to coach.

A few days in, and he starts to hear people going in and out of the flat next door. Busy noises. Some banging and rearranging. Only ever seems to be one person at a time, tho. Like different people taking turns.

Eventually, it's as if someone is in the flat again.

There are the daily noises. Skittering of paws and claws on the floor. Music.

And one evening, sitting out on his balcony, Shiro meets the neighbour, who shuffles out carefully on a set of crutches before sitting in a deeply cushioned patio chair.

Shiro can't believe he's never seen him before, because he's gorgeous. Dark hair, pale skin, doe eyes marred by shadows and pinched in discomfort.

Where had this guy been since before the isolation order?

He's curious, but not nosy. So he says, "Hi."

His neighbour startles, looks over, and oh those eyes are so pretty. There is a small, hesitant, tired smile.

"Hey yourself."

"Hell of a way to finally figure out who my neighbour is."

A low chuckle. It's a good sound. "Yup. Stuck is stuck. They still saying 3 weeks?"

"So far. See how it goes, I guess."

Shiro is leaning against his balcony railing, so he can see the man next door, see his dog flopped at his feet.

Shiro loves dogs. "Your friend got a name?"

Another chuckle. "You in the habit of asking dog's names before their owner's?"

Shiro flushes. It did seem kind of rude. But the man was still wearing that tiny smile. So maybe he's teasing.

"I'm Shiro."

"Keith. And this is Kosmo."

"Did you always have a dog here?"

Keith sighs. "No. He's usually with my folks. More space. But I... kinda need him now."

That gets Shiro's attention. The empty flat. The sudden busyness. Keith's return. The crutches.

Half his clients are rehab. He specialises in it, a way to pay back for the rehab he received when he lost his arm.

"Okay. You don't have to answer, but with everything happening -"

"- where... Where have you been?"

There is a moment of stillness. Shiro finds himself trapped in Keith's calculating gaze, and he waits, patiently.

Eventually: "Accident. Asshole sideswiped me off my bike. Wrote it off."

"Jesus."

"Dumb thing is, car barely grazed me. It was bouncing off the tarmac that broke my hip. I've been in physio the last month. But then this stuff happened and I really shouldn't take up space in the hospital, so. Here I am."

Four weeks wasn't nearly enough yet.

Shiro would know. He won't pry, but he hopes Keith has enough pain meds, has enough everything. To be self sufficient in pain is unenviable.

"You couldn't go to your folks?"

A different smile. Tired but proud. "Mom and Dad are EMTs. I can't be with them right now."

"Oh."

Quietly, Keith tells him that his dad and uncles had come by the flat, making sure he had food and provisions, adjusting things to be within reach. The drilling Shiro heard was Keith's dad installing a rail in the bathroom.

Shiro files information away.

The sun goes down and they part ways, even tho they were always at least 6 feet away.

It makes Shiro's heart hurt. They have to stay isolated, but all he wants is to help alleviate Keith's pain.

Like everyone else in the building, in the city, in the state, he can only wait.

Shiro establishes a decent routine. He wakes up, does an indoor workout of stretching, yoga, and any exercise that uses only his own body weight as resistance. He has breakfast. He has one to two clients via Skype before lunch. He spends the afternoon recording tutorials.

Anything between two to three more Skype clients, and then he calls it a day.

He starts eating dinner on the balcony, so that he can eat when Keith does. They come out just before sunset, and sit and talk until the sun is gone and the chill sets in and Keith should get inside.

One day Keith gives him the ultimate gift.

"Hey, Shiro? Are you going out for runs at all?"

He has. He knows paths that are quiet, very few people on them. And even then, people kept their distance.

"Do you think you could take Kosmo with you?"

Keith has been taking Kosmo down twice a day, to do his business while Keith stretches his legs and walks as much as he can. But Kosmo is getting antsy and needs more.

"Um, sure. Yeah, that's absolutely fine! But, uh -"

"Okay cool hang on."

Keith goes back inside.

Shiro waits. And then his doorbell rings.

That can't be. It would be irresponsible. Keith wouldn't.

He peeps out the peephole and sees no one. The bell goes again.

He opens the door and there's Kosmo, sitting perfectly still, leash in his mouth.

Shiro nearly dies.

"Oh wow did you ring the bell? Did you? You're a smart boy!" He gives Kosmo a good scratch, and then clips the leash on. Stuffed into his collar are a few poop bags and a note.

- Call me if you have questions, but he's easy really. K -

He has Keith's number. It's taken a week.

(Hands cold. Sleep now. More tomorrow)

Shiro now allows time in the late afternoon for a run with Kosmo, dropping him off in front of Keith's door before going to his own and getting his dinner started, the three of them then reunited on their balconies at sunset.

Shiro hasn't used Keith's number yet, but having it comforts him. All he's done is send photos of himself and Kosmo on their runs, with the secret assurance Keith now has his number, too.

He's editing a tutorial on skipping double unders for his gym team when his phone rings.

"Keith?"

"Hey Shiro." He sounds pained. Shiro can hear shallow, controlled breathing.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?" Damn this quarantine! Any other time he would just go over and help!

"Uh. Same shit. Different day. Everything kinda hurts."

"Where are you?"

"Floor. On my back. Weirdly seems the most comfortable. Got the rug tho so it's fine?"

"Can you put your camera on?"

There's a shuffling, and then a beep, and they're looking at each other via their phones.

Their flats are identical, mirrored. Shiro sees the kitchen behind Keith, from where the phone is propped up. So he makes for the same spot in his living area, where he, too, has a plush rug. He lies down on the floor in some kind of spatial solidarity.

Keith is facing him, head turned left as he lay on his back. For the first time Shiro gets a good look at the slash down Keith's right cheek, another remnant of his accident.

He's so beautiful still.

"Tell me what's hurting. Maybe I can help."

Keith slowly, carefully, explains and catalogues what hurts where. When asked about meds he said he had a nap earlier, missed the hour he regularly took them, and can't upset when he takes the next dose because it would wreck his sleep.

It's stubborn, but it was probably best.

A wrecked sleep pattern is already hell on a healing body, moreso when in quarantine like this. Only Shiro's strict routine tells him what day it is.

"All right. Let's try this."

Shiro instructs, patiently, tells Keith where to feel with his hands, his fingers. It's hard.

More than once Keith can't explain what's wrong where and tears of frustration leak from his tired eyes, but Shiro coaches him through it, and slowly, slowly, agonizingly, they find the problem together, and Shiro tells him what to do.

It's a long 45 minutes into the call before the pain leaves Keith's face and the tension drops away from his body with a shaky sigh. "Oh thank fuck...."

"Okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah. I can. I can bend my leg again."

"Can Kosmo help you sit up?"

Shiro hears Keith call for Kosmo, and then the phone slips and plops flat. All he can see is Keith's ceiling.

He tries not to panic. There is a scuffling and doggy huffs and whines. A low groan, and then the phone camera shudders, and there's Keith's face again.

"Sorry about that. Figured it was easier for Kosmo to just get the wheelchair. I'm good now."

Keith is smiling, trying to be reassuring, but it doesn't reach his eyes. There's a sadness there. For the two weeks Shiro has known him he sees Keith as fire and freedom,

light and song and quick wit. The dent to his independence hurts him, saddens him. He accepts the wheelchair as a necessity, but it makes him unhappy.

It breaks Shiro's heart.

"I'm glad I could help."

"You did. So much. Don't know where I'd be if it weren't for you."

Shiro warms at that. He reminds Keith to set alarms for his pain meds, and says to call him if he needs anything. Anytime.

It's too little. It's too little for Shiro.

Two days later and it's a Sunday. Shiro sleeps in a little, then gets up for coffee and toast. It's the only day he doesn't work out, opting only for his run.

His phone rings. After the last time, he's assigned a ring tone for Keith alone.

"Hey Keith."

"Hey! Go open your door!"

Confused but encouraged by how happy Keith sounds, he goes to the door.

There's a cooler at his doorstep, and a separate bag with two bottles of beer.

"Um. Keith. What -"

"Don't worry, Dad wore gloves when he dropped it off and wiped it all down."

He brings everything into the kitchen, puts one of the beers in the fridge. "Keith, I'm not any wiser here..."

Keith told his parents about the incident two days ago, and today Cal had time off and decided to make a kind of Sunday lunch for the family and deliver it all.

This apparently includes Shiro.

"They wanted to thank you. My family. They're really grateful."

And Shiro. Well. He's overwhelmed. Keith is so strong and independent, going it alone during this crisis because Cal Kogane and the Marmora family were all in the medical field.

So none of them could be there for Keith, and Keith wouldn't want them to be, because he knew they were needed more elsewhere.

Keith only has Shiro. The family didn't know Shiro. And yet they showered him with gratitude.

"Wow. Uh.. thank you. Please. Tell your family."

"Of course I will I - oh shit I didn't check if you were vegetarian. You're not are you?"

Because the first thing Shiro unearths from the cooler is a still warm container full of barbeque brisket, and then another with half a rack of ribs.

Shiro laughs. "Nope. You're good.

"Keith this looks amazing."

"Oh wait what about lactose? There should be some of Dad's magic mac n' cheese in there and -"

Shiro wants to cry. He nearly does. "I have lactose tablets just for mac n' cheese."

"Wow. Committed."

"It's mac n'cheese. It's a calling."

"Dork."

Smaller containers of corn bread and buttered green beans follow, and Shiro is in for a hell of a cheat day.

"You coming out to the balcony? I've got my food out here."

Shiro fixes a plate with a bit of everything, snags the beer and heads out.

Keith is there, Kosmo at his feet happily chewing a bone off the barbeque. He raises his own beer, and Shiro raises his, wishing the bottles could clink together.

It's the best meal Shiro has had in ages.

(nothing tonight as I trained via Skype for the first time since quarantine and I am a ball of pain and exhaustion. Hopefully tomorrow night. )

Things are different after that.

The isolation period is extended. Another three weeks. It doesn't bother Shiro, and it doesn't bother Keith. Shiro still has clients via Skype. He still gets to run with Kosmo.

They sit as together as they can for dinner every evening.

But.

Keith gets stronger, and bored more quickly. He can't reach his hospital physio, so he's in a rut in terms of his rehab.

So every day, for an hour, Shiro and Keith link up their phones, cast up onto their TV screens, and

Shiro guides Keith through more advanced exercises to further improve his hip mobility.

They start sipping coffee together in the mornings at their balconies, talking quietly.

Their early friendship marred by the quarantine crisis and Keith's pain,

Shiro only now learns that Keith is going to follow his family. Joining the ranks of GPs, EMTs, an oncologist, and a prosthetics specialist, Keith would soon return to med school.

"I've been doing part time. Trying to work and save enough money so I can go full time soon."

"Ironically, the payout from the accident will fund the next two years full time," he shrugs. "Not a route I'd recommend."

"Are you going to specialise?"

"Yeah. Paediatrics."

And that finishes Shiro off. If he thought he could hold his heart at bay, he fails now.

He tells Keith of a childhood in children's wards, teenage years in chemo after amputating his arm to stop the bone cancer. How his hair bleached in the front from his treatment.

Why he trained in physiotherapy.

The gym, he conceded, was for vanity at first, then confidence.

Ultimately, it was happiness and self-love.

It is as if Keith was destined to complete the circle between them, that Shiro is who he is because of the kindness of paediatricians, and Keith should become one himself, to be kind to another child like Shiro.

It is the last brick between them. After that, they talk in the morning over coffee. Over dinner.

And then at night, in their beds, where they talk about the darker, scarier things that don't belong in the sunrises and sunsets of the balconies.

Shiro talks about his loneliness, how he is the only Shirogane standing. There are distant relatives but he doesn't know them nor do they know him.

He's quietly glad his grandparents are no longer around, because this epidemic could have taken them while they were in isolation.

He talks about his last relationship, dull and safe and really he wasn't sure why he held out for as long as he had. He'd been lonely either way.

Keith talks about how he worries for his family. His parents on the front lines - his father could drive an ambulance like a demon.

"I've seen him drift. It was hilarious."

His oncologist uncle Ulaz, who makes the best curries, come down to the wards because there are so many patients and not enough doctors.

His cousin Acxa, who had to be quarantined because she developed a cough working the ER.

She is getting worse, but she is in good care.

It doesn't make Keith less scared for her.

Keith is alone in a similar way that Shiro is lonely. It's not really either of their faults.

But they ease each other: Keith is less alone now, and Shiro is no longer lonely.