You know. In a weird troubling way, Kevin is glad that Shiro is taking Keith's...recent developments so very hard. On the one hand, yes, he's become a depressed lump and has barely left the house. On the other, he isn't faking anything. He isn't throwing himself at some work project or other in a desperate attempt to ignore his own feelings. He is just a very sad and upset Shiro, and somehow, even if it's terrible and might well be an indicator of some sort of rock bottom, Kevin is reassured by the honesty.
This doesn't stop him from hovering, mind. It just...makes the hovering a little easier. There is no need for Kevin to dig much.
Kevin once scolded Shiro for friendship speeching at him during a time when he was feeling troubled and private. As is his wont, the swordsman gives him that same courtesy he'd craved back then, idly refusing to nag him into speaking about his feelings. Instead, he just makes it a point to be around, to be where Shiro can see him and know that he is there, and to invade Shiro's space in such a way that whenever he feels like opening up he'll know Kevin will be willing to provide a shoulder. And, though he respects this sort of depression enough that he won't force the issue -- sometimes you've just got to give into the urge to sleep for a year, even if you only get a short nap out of it -- he makes it a point every time he's over to try and gently pry Shiro out of the house and into the world again.
"Mis-ter Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiro."
Often, this involves marching right into Shiro's bedroom and clambering onto the bed with him, though he does at least keep his feet off the coverlet, and he's somehow graceful about flopping onto his belly while wearing a sword. Go figure. His usual sing-song greeting is much more gentle than obnoxious just now, but he insists on delivering it every time. Familiar things are important, he thinks.
"Mister Shiro, did you know?" he asks, settling himself with his chin over his clasped hands as he regards his BFF. "If we were to go to the animal shelter, we could pet so many puppies."
If this doesn't work, Shiro has officially reached Gilbert levels of angst.
December, after Keith's canon update
This doesn't stop him from hovering, mind. It just...makes the hovering a little easier. There is no need for Kevin to dig much.
Kevin once scolded Shiro for friendship speeching at him during a time when he was feeling troubled and private. As is his wont, the swordsman gives him that same courtesy he'd craved back then, idly refusing to nag him into speaking about his feelings. Instead, he just makes it a point to be around, to be where Shiro can see him and know that he is there, and to invade Shiro's space in such a way that whenever he feels like opening up he'll know Kevin will be willing to provide a shoulder. And, though he respects this sort of depression enough that he won't force the issue -- sometimes you've just got to give into the urge to sleep for a year, even if you only get a short nap out of it -- he makes it a point every time he's over to try and gently pry Shiro out of the house and into the world again.
"Mis-ter Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiro."
Often, this involves marching right into Shiro's bedroom and clambering onto the bed with him, though he does at least keep his feet off the coverlet, and he's somehow graceful about flopping onto his belly while wearing a sword. Go figure. His usual sing-song greeting is much more gentle than obnoxious just now, but he insists on delivering it every time. Familiar things are important, he thinks.
"Mister Shiro, did you know?" he asks, settling himself with his chin over his clasped hands as he regards his BFF. "If we were to go to the animal shelter, we could pet so many puppies."
If this doesn't work, Shiro has officially reached Gilbert levels of angst.