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“Course you are.” Lance smiles, eyes crinkling at the edges, and he wills the remainder of his energy to wish bitterly for a time with more conviction. “Always rushing headfirst into everything, Mullet.”
He knows Keith doesn’t respond, doesn’t bother to turn, doesn’t want to look at the way his edges shimmer with something incorporeal, doesn’t want to touch and feel nothing in his hands except for air and transience. “Where are you even?” Lance manages to croak out. He’s asked the question billions of times, and he knows the answer, but it’s like it’s torn out of his throat, a broken man’s final attempt at courage.
“Don’t know,” comes Keith’s ghostly whisper, and Lance knows he’s running himself dry trying to figure it out too.
—Lance feels as though his life has been delineated into seven solidarity periods— each either building or breaking him into the shadow of a fighter he is now—and settles on New Altea as a planetary ambassador feeling fractured. It takes one disappearing act, conducted in an eerily perfect silence by one Keith Kogane, for him to rediscover what it feels like to be whole again.