Keith hefts the next mattress and tries not to glower at the space it puts in between them. It's not the mattress' fault. It's not anyone's fault; the timing of this became what it had to be. And if the end result is that he can be with Shiro, that he can call the other man his, can stay by his side going forward, then Keith can't complain at all.

Not that he would.

He is, however, running to the end of his patience; his well is running dry. It's bound to happen eventually. "Listening I can do," Keith nods, leading out into the hallway, peering at Shiro down the length of the mattress. In fact it's hard to tear his gaze away from Shiro right now -- it's been harder and harder, and now he has no reason to try to hide it. Shiro is his, and Keith won't give him up now that he knows he can have him.