A Brief Enquiry Into Klance Disorders

(Pyro)Phobia (Keith)

Pyrophobia is a fear of fire, which can be considered irrational if beyond what is considered normal. 

Here's a fun fact: the kind of treatment Keith is receiving in this is known as systematic desensitisation. I learnt about it at school so technically this counts as revision for me :)

Ever since Keith was thirteen years old, he had a fear of fire. It wasn't just the common, 'what if I left the gas on and my house sets on fire whilst I'm out?' fear but a fear that meant he couldn't even look at matches without his heart beating a mile a minute. Even looking at his oven created an uneasy feeling in his stomach, as if he was going to vomit the contents of his lunch back out. It was a phobia; a fear that was (debatably) irritation and meant he avoided the stimulus as if it was the plague.

"Remember you are allowed to stop at any point, okay? If you feel you can't handle it anymore, don't be afraid to speak up." Keith hung his head but nodded, even if he really didn't want to force himself into around an hour of complete hell. He had to try and 'cure' the phobia for the sake of his team. Voltron couldn't function if one of their paladins had a panic attack just because they contemplated the idea of there being a slight fire during the mission. "Do you remember the relaxation techniques? How everything is going to work?" Another nod. Keith couldn't even think about speaking when he was about to face his worst nightmare. "Okay, we are going to start now. You need to look at this picture."

Keith's stomach lurched as the photo was put into his hands. It was simply a photo of a fireplace. To some, it might arouse happy memories of campfires or Christmas but, to Keith, it aroused memories of fear and anxiety. His breathing picked up in speed as images of roaring flames and sounds of his father screaming his name flashed in his head. Anxiously, the hand that wasn't holding the photo gripped the edge of the sofa, so hard that his knuckles were beginning to turn white.

He had to use the relaxation techniques. Inhale: one, two, three, four. Hold: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Exhale: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Rationally, he knew it wasn't real. There was no way that the fire would leap out of the photo and burn the entire building down. That was impossible. It took a long time but, eventually, his breathing and converged towards a more regular pace. He nodded before murmuring, "I'm ready."

They continued. He was next shown a video of a fireplace, the flames dancing in perfect unison. He shivered before his entire body tensed up and all he could hear was his dad screaming again. Keith! Keith! Where are you? Keith!

After he reminded himself of his relaxation techniques, he calmed and moved up a tier. The therapist reached into a bag and pulled out a box of matches before handing them to Keith. It was just a box which couldn't hurt Keith at all. "No..." Keith murmured, rapidly shaking his head. His hands felt like they were on fire. His closed his eyes and turning his head away.

"It's okay, Keith. Remember the exercises. You can get through this." The sound of his therapist's voice was familiar; calming. He listened to what he had to say before thinking back to the exercises. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. It was a box, that was all it was. That level took much longer than the others but, after awhile, he could say he was calm. The breathing exercises were his support to fall back on. Without them, he'd have shamefully bolted by that point.

"We're going to light one now, okay? You don't even need to touch it." The therapist pried the box from Keith's grip and pulled out a single match. She swiped it against the side of the box until fire enveloped its tip. Keith jolted up, his entire body shaking so much that he was almost a blur. He scrunched his eyes shut all over again, the anxiety spreading from the tips of his toes to the top of his forehead. He was hyperventilating and his head was beginning to feel light.

Keith collapsed onto the floor, hugging his legs and hiding his face between his knees. He could feel the heat, radiating around him. He could hear the terrified screams. He could smell the ash. With his eyes shut, he could just about see the blobs of light that represented the dreaded flames that had stolen Keith's father from him. His heavy breathing was making the situation all the more dire because he was concerned about passing out. He had passed out when that wretched building had been enveloped in flames and, when he had woken up, his father had already been announced dead. He couldn't pass out.

He could vaguely hear the therapist's soft voice, telling him to remember his breathing exercises. Keith focused on that noise and tried to do as she said. He also focused on the feeling of his body against the floor and his hands against his legs. He smelt the air- the actual, cool air- that was devoid of smoke. He forced his eyes open again and, of course, he was sat inside his therapist's office. Safe. There weren't any signs of a fire.

"I couldn't do it..." He murmured. He was disappointed in himself: he thought he was strong enough to make it through the session. He was meant to be the red paladin, someone the universe depended on for protecting it but he couldn't even look at fire without needing to escape the situation.

"It's okay. A lot of patients struggle the first time. We can always try again another day." Keith knew the therapist wasn't judging him in any way but it sure felt like it. A normal person was a little bit scared of fire but he wasn't an ordinary person. He couldn't hold a match. He freaked out when he saw a gas oven. He had had a panic attack when Hunk had accidentally burnt some food.

"I'm sorry. I'm so- so stupid."

"You aren't stupid. You experienced something traumatic and you can't help the way you feel. I think you deserve some rest. You did really well today and I hope to see you next week."

"Thank you." Keith mumbled before exiting the room. Lance and Shiro were waiting for him outside so he instantaneously ran towards Shiro and began to cry into his chest. He hated how he was. He hated his phobia. He hated everything.

"How'd it go?" Lance questioned once the worst of Keith's cries were over. He watched as Keith wiped his eyes with the bottom of his sleeve.

"I don't want to talk about it..."

But next week was going to be a new week. He was going to try again and, eventually, he might be able to conquer the phobia that had taken over his entire life.