Archive of Our Own

Even back when they're little kids, readily exploring the treasures that the cramped streets of their neighborhood have to offer and living in a world that revolves around the importance of a single moment rather than lifetime--a world wherein adult things have yet to make sense--Lance already knows that Keith is a special presence in his life.

Lance McClain comes from a big family that values relationships above all. From a very young age, he is surrounded by chatty people who're constantly in movement, even if Lance wants to be left alone, especially when he’s busy throwing tantrum fits over stolen toys and snacks. His older brothers often tease him for his lankiness and hold their shared games high above Lance's head, never giving in no matter how hard Lance tries to get them. Lance never manages to escape his family even when he’s fuming--he shares a room with two older siblings. His dad always goes out of his way to bring Lance back inside, kicking and unwilling, to sleep in his own bed instead of seething inside their crooked treehouse, full of holes and shabby-looking, located in their cramped backyard. It’s been there long before Lance was born.

Lance has everything except for attention --Ma and Pa have to work hard so they can’t constantly be there for their crowd of six needy children--he has friends, bestest friends in the whole wide world even, so when he sees the lonely boy who’s just moved in a few houses away, Lance’s left wondering what is it exactly that makes them so different.

Lance is five years old at the time, so he doesn’t question it too much. He ignores Hunk’s cautious whines about the new kid pouting away and glaring at everyone who dares to approach or look in his general direction, picks up Katie’s ball and strolls up to him.

That is how he meets Keith.

His first impression of Keith is definitely a good one, no matter what the other kids say. He doesn’t seem bad no matter how hard he tries to glare Lance away--even as a kid, Lance gets the vibe that the other boy is spooked by him, thus the glare, and Keith doesn’t know how to emote properly. Lance feels drawn to him, there’s something about this boy that makes Lance want to befriend him.

Maybe it’s the eyes, he thinks. Deep indigo and round, cat-like and sparkling like the glass shards that Katie collects whenever put under the sunlight.

The boy is far prettier than any girl that Lance knows--and he doesn’t really know many at the time, growing up surrounded by hordes of boys. His skin is pale and he’s almost as thin as Lance, knobby knees covered in band aids and bruises, ink-black hair soft-looking and long.

Lance swallows around the ball of something lodged tightly in his throat--he’s never experienced anything quite like this before--and clears his throat.

“Want to kick the ball around with us?” Lance asks, puffing out his chest to cover up how anxious he truly feels and holds eye contact with the nameless pretty boy.

The boy continues glaring and curls tighter into himself--Lance thinks back to their stray cat Dorothy and how scared she was the very first time he'd brought her some food--and after a few seconds equivalent to hours inside a five year old’s mind, the boy nods.

“Yes,” he says reluctantly, voice cracking at the ‘s’. He immediately covers his mouth when Lance laughs at the sound and the boy's glare turns annoyed rather than scared.

Lance almost coos over the flushed cheeks.

On that day he finds out that Keith blushes easily.

He takes the boy’s wrist when the other begins refusing--stop laughing at me, stupid!--and drags him along anyways. Lance can tell that the boy actually wants to join in--he’s just probably not good at making friends!

“It was cute!” Lance offers as an explanation and ignores the wide-eyed stares of the other kids. The closer they get, the more the boy struggles, obviously uncomfortable with so many new people all at once.

He half-hides behind Lance’s back once the brunet sets down the ball and grins his best smile, a few teeth missing in the front. “Everyone!” he exclaims. “This is my new friend – uh?”

“Keith," the boy offers silently, his face ridiculously red. Lance can see him nervously wringing his bruised hands, gaze focused on the muddy ground and the clouds of dust it creates whenever he scuffs his beaten up sneakers over its surface.

“This is Keith, he’ll be playing with us from now on!” An unspoken ‘be nice to him’ hangs in the air. And since they’re only five, that’s where they end the awkward introductions, focused on starting a new game instead.

Keith’s first game is awful but he slowly gets the hang of it with every set and Lance immediately feels threatened by that--his title, ‘the best at soccer’, is hanging by a hair there. Keith matches Lance’s pace perfectly and apparently both of them are ridiculously competitive, sometimes even forgetting the fact that they’re on the same team and have other eager teammates ready to receive the ball.

Needless to say, they hit it off immediately.

Hunk warms up to the spooked boy the moment they exchange an actual sentence or two and Katie, who’s too young to judge at the time, silently whispers to Lance that she wants her hair to look like Keith’s, unhappily tugging at her long braid.

Lance gets to see Keith laughing at something that Hunk says and when the sun begins setting over the rooftops, they make their way back home together, chatting about some comic books that they can barely comprehend but look cool enough.

Keith’s house seems eerily quiet compared to Lance’s ever-bustling noisy household--if he focuses enough, Lance can hear his sister Rebecca screaming over something yet again. There are still some boxes placed in Keith’s backyard, windows lacking curtains, so naturally, Lance promises to show Keith his lively home, his cramped shared room, piles of comics, hand-down toys, and everything that his five year old self has to offer.

Keith gives him a watery look like he’s too close to crying but instead he only sniffles and turns that blinding grin Lance’s way. The brunet feels as though he’s missed a step while walking down the stairs and stares, wide-eyed, at the dimples carving those puffy cheeks and the way Keith’s nose scrunches up a little as though he doesn’t quite have the hang of this smiling thing.

“I had fun. Thanks, Lance,” he beams and Lance gets a little tongue tied mid-sentence, earning a snorting laugh from Keith.

“No worries, it’s cute!” the boy parrots back Lance’s words and runs up those pristine white stairs of the porch.

Lance goes back home feeling strangely dazed but doesn’t think anything of it. He’s probably just a little hungry.

It’s easy for them to accept Keith as one of their own. It doesn’t take long before Hunk makes him a messily braided friendship bracelet--his new friend’s favorite color is red, Lance memorizes--and they spend most of their nights sleeping over, every time at someone else’s place.

When it’s summer, they usually go to Katie’s because her family has a pool and her older brother Matt takes his babysitting duties very seriously. When he’s too busy, his best friend Shiro is there to keep them out of trouble. They absolutely adore the older boy and always rope him into their little games, try their best to impress him, get him to smile. A day doesn’t go by without Shiro having daisy flower crowns placed on his head--courtesy of Katie and Keith.

Hunk gets the winters because he has the biggest room and the most comfortable bed. His mother makes the best ginger tea and bakes the tastiest apple pies, too. Hunk also has a lot of board games which usually end in a whole lot of arguing, especially between Keith and Lance, so eventually they learn not to touch those.

Autumn and spring are usually reserved for Lance, mostly because his family no longer questions the presence of extra children in their household and it’s very fun to spend the evenings huddled up in a pile of limbs, under the wool blankets, settled down high in the trees and counting stars until Lance’s father checks in on them and drives the kids home.

That old treehouse probably holds more memories than Lance’s brain and he feels a little nostalgic when he cleans it after graduation, right before moving out.

Lance will never forget playing there, exchanging scary stories--up to this day Hunk hates them more than anything--just lying around, comfortable in each other’s presence, and looking at the moon through the gaps of the patched ceiling.

They play pretend wherein the beaten up treehouse is a tower, Lance and Katie are noble knights, Hunk is a fearsome dragon--oh how he hates this role, he dislikes pretending to be evil and always messes up his act by doing something too nice, but they can’t do much about it, because to be fair they usually pull sticks to decide on the roles; Hunk always manages to get the short one--and Keith is a princess--a cool princess with an awesome sword that’s enchanted to not hurt the dragon, can we play now?

While Katie pretends to be slain by the dragon, sprawled out on the ground, eyes rolled back and tongue lolling out, Lance climbs the tower and reaches his fair maiden.

The maiden thanks him and ‘bestows a kiss upon her savior’s cheek’, Katie narrates, still pretending to be dead. Keith turns a shade of raspberry lemonade that they’ve placed in the corner of their ‘fortress’. Lance tries to object--even if they’re playing, Keith’s a boy!--but Hunk and Katie begin calling them cheaters and Lance feels something soft pressing against the side of his cheek, disappearing too fast for him to fully realize what it was.

Hunk ‘oooh’s in excitement--either that or at Lance’s, who drops his wooden sword in surprise, reaction. Katie looks awfully smug when Keith covers the lower half of his face, breathing heavily. Even the tips of his ears are bright pink.

“There, are you happy!?” the black-haired boy yells at the two cackling kids that are rolling around on the dry grass, and firmly refuses to look Lance’s way.

Lance probes at the tingling spot on his cheek and doesn’t wash his face for two days until his brother rats him out.

Keith is Lance’s first many things.

They’re eight and Lance’s older sister is celebrating her birthday party. The attendees somehow manage to fit into a tight circle inside their treehouse, shoulders brushing, knees bent awkwardly. Lance likes Becca and likes the fact that she doesn’t consider herself too cool for his company, unlike the older brothers. By then, Keith’s pretty much their sibling--he spends more time at Lance’s bedroom than he does in his own house that’s still just as void of life as the day when he'd moved in.

Sometimes, he stays at Lance’s for three days in a row before his parents actually miss him and drop by to pick him up. Keith always leaves unwillingly.

More and more so with every passing year.

Becca likes Keith because he lets her mess around with his hair and so Keith constantly gets subjected to his sisters’ grooming sessions, yet only closes his eyes and takes the treatment, never complaining whenever they tug on his hair too much. That’s how Lance finds out that Keith really loves having his head touched, finds out that the boy sleeps better after Lance shyly pats his hair whenever Keith wakes up from yet another nightmare and they lay together under the soft blankets, slim figures illuminated by the soft green glow of the nightlight shaped like Saturn.

Lance observes Keith’s peaceful face until the other falls asleep, and only then closes his blue eyes, as if making sure that the other’s rest is undisturbed. He wants to be the one to guard Keith’s fitful dreams to his best capability.

His eyes are glued to Keith, who pulls on the colorful band aids on his fingers in a show of nervousness, indigo eyes flickering to the girls surrounding him. He gnaws on his lower lip and paws at the bottle of cola which spins and spins in lazy circles, until it…

Lands on Lance.

The girls loudly squeak their approval and Keith immediately tries to weasel his way out of it, but it’s Becca’s birthday thus her authority is unquestionable. And she demands to see a kiss.

Years later, she grows up to be an embarrassing fangirl whose fanfiction Lance has to proof-read, but he really hopes that her journey didn’t start with him and Keith. That'd be disturbing.

This time, Lance is ready, palms sweaty and twitchy. He looks straight into Keith's eyes as the other boy closes the distance between them, slightly tilting his head to the side. This isn’t Lance's first kiss, not by a long shot, but it almost feels like one when it’s Keith who’s pressing soft warm lips against his chapped ones. Lance’s eyes are screwed shut and he awkwardly puckers up after some goading from Bec’s classmates. His chest feels strange as though someone has shoved a hand between his ribs and squeezed at his heart and Keith just.

Keeps going.

They somehow manage to lock lips for the entire fifteen second countdown. That night Keith decides to walk back home with some girl instead of staying over.

Lance lies wide awake way past his curfew, eyes unseeing, looking at the extra pillow by his head. The lack of Keith’s presence by his side is strangely haunting. It feels as though he’s afraid of the dark all over again.

Sometimes Keith shows up in the middle of the night.

When they’re eleven, Lance finally gets the room all to himself and this is where the nightly visits start. He knocks on Lance’s window at ten past midnight, still in his pajamas, face bruised on the right side and tear tracks on cheeks.

The first time it happens, the first time he sees Keith with bruises like that, Lance panics.

Keith nearly has to force him down from leaving the room to warn his parents about the presence of the frail-looking boy with a black eye and shallow cuts on his fingertips.

It takes a shaky “Lance, please don’t tell, please” for him to settle down, unsure how to react or how to proceed. He takes Keith’s hands in his and wraps up the small cuts in the band aids that he keeps in one of the drawers--there’s a first aid kit in every room; their family is prone to accidents somehow--asks Keith what he can do, is there anything he can do that might help.

Keith only shakes his head no, makes him swear on his life that he’ll never tell a soul, and lies down on the bed, back facing the wall.

It’s a wordless agreement that he's to sleep over.

Lance never closes the gap--Keith tends to flinch away on worse nights--and lets the other cuddle up to him whenever he feels like it.

He’s never there once Lance wakes up.

The abuse doesn’t go unnoticed by Lance’s parents. They don’t believe their forged stories of Keith being extremely clumsy and arrogant enough to start fights every day, they know their sweet lovely Keith, whom they treat like a son, far too well. When the adults find Lance tending to the split eyebrow and the dark bruises on Keith's forearms, they finally put their foot down.

It’s the first time Lance sees Keith crying--he won't be seeing the other boy cry for a very long time afterwards.

He remembers the flocks of neighbors, blue and red flashes of police cars. The twilight. Remembers Hunk standing by his side, horrified, Keith pleading his Ma to not go there and to stay away from that man, but unfortunately for him, Lance’s mom is a determined woman with a cause. Her heart breaks whenever she catches glimpse of that abused child whom she calls her hijo.

The initial intention of having a civil conversation goes to naught.

Keith’s stepfather is drunk that night.

Lance’s father sports a black eye and his hand is heavy on his son’s shoulder as Lance trembles, listens to the yells of a drunken madman being dragged away by the police.

“You son of a whore, you’ll regret this! I’ll make you regret ever crossing me,” he slurs in Keith’s direction and struggles when the police officers attempt to shove him into the backseat of the car.

Keith stands in the middle of this wreck, all alone, surrounded by people who don’t dare to step closer, while his frail mother sobs into her hands on the stairs of the front porch in a way that haunts Lance’s dreams for many nights afterwards. She doesn’t approach her son either, rather gapes at him as though he’s just ruined her entire life.

“Why did you do this? You know that he only acts like this when he’s had a bit too much. How can you be so selfish? He’s given so much to us,” she chokes out and that’s when Lance notices that Keith’s crying, bony shoulders shaking as he mouths. “I’m sorry.”

Lance doesn’t hate people, but at that moment, he despises Keith’s mother, hates the pathetic mess sobbing away as though it’s the end of the world, even though her own son is right there, barely holding himself together. Beaten up and still bleeding from his face, apologizing for something that he should never be sorry for.

She ends up taken away for questioning, too.

Lance’s Ma and Pa usher Keith to their minivan and Hunk hugs Lance tighter when the car silently disappears out of the sight.

A few days later Keith and his mother get back home.

The man returns a few weeks later.

Keith stops coming over every night--in fact, he stops showing up altogether.

They’re twelve when Keith completely stops talking to Lance.

At first, he feels as though there’s a void in his heart--one of his best friends is ignoring him completely. Lance tries to reach out but never manages, the door is always closed in front of his face even if he knows that there are people home. Keith goes to a private school on the other end of the city, so catching him is close to impossible. His phone is turned off and he won’t reply to any of his emails. Neither does he answer to Katie--Pidge now--or Hunk.

Lance doesn’t know who’s hurt more by this betrayal--he or his big best friend. For a while, Keith had stayed in contact with Hunk until the bigger boy’s pleas to explain as to why he didn’t want everything to go back to the good old days got too ‘overbearing’ and he got cut off as well.

Hunk doesn’t take it too well to losing people and Pidge’s mean comments whenever they meet up in Lance’s backyard and climb to the treehouse. The remains of Keith in there are undeniable, lingering--his name scribbled in red marker, the wooden sword nailed to one of the walls. Hunk curls up into a ball, face buried in the fleece blanket, and he speaks what’s actually on Pidge and Lance’s minds, but they’re far too hurt to voice it out or acknowledge it.

“It’s his own fault that he’s ignoring us, that ingrate! We've tried to help, we wanted to know why, but it seems that he’s just too cool for us!” Pidge yells one afternoon, finally fed up, tears of anger and frustration shining in their eyes as they hop out before Hunk or Lance can even say anything.

They spend the following hour in complete silence until Hunk wordlessly gets up and climbs down the rope ladder, leaving Lance alone with his overflowing thoughts.

It’s not like he doesn’t see Keith around--the guy often hangs out with Shiro and Matt, thus subjecting Pidge to a lot of mental torture because they’ve made it pretty clear that they don’t want to see Keith anymore--and they end up going to the same middle school. It’s quite the distance away from the suburbs and Lance takes the bus every morning, sitting as far away from Keith as possible. The guy never looks back and Lance tries not to glance his way either. It hurts at first, but time heals all wounds. He somehow manages to ignore Keith’s brooding existence altogether, chatting with Hunk, Pidge, and his other friends instead.

At school, Keith isn’t well-liked; he always walks around with his headphones on and ignores the world around him unless you’re somehow relevant to his final grade in some random group project. People generally write him off as a weird emo and don’t go out of their way to make friends after being shot down one times too many. By now, everyone knows that Keith only takes off his headphones for class and if you’re Takashi Shirogane, Matt Holt, or anyone else on the football team.

He’s still the best in their year, grades unwavering, and Lance bitterly recalls how Keith used to best him at everything he ever did, silently fuming the first time he sees Keith’s name in the honor student roll.

He wants to beat Keith in order to prove himself, but his attention span and inability to focus, his ‘creativity’, kind of block all paths to reaching that goal in particular.

They find themselves paired together for a Chem project. The teacher refuses to let Lance switch lab partners no matter what, because he and Hunk have created explosive concoctions ‘for fun’ one times too many, plus she thinks it’d do him good to learn some discipline. It goes as well as one might think--Lance kisses his good grade goodbye and ‘accidentally’ sets the ends of Keith’s tacky mullet on fire just to gouge a reaction from him, just to have Keith look his way, talk to him.

Of course, they get expelled for a week for breaking school property--Keith has, quite literally, thrown himself at Lance and right into the ancient lab tables;since when did he get so strong? --and despite them beating the shit out of each other, Lance feels strangely alive, no matter how badly his nose stings and bleeds afterwards.

They somehow actually start talking then, yet it's far from friendly. It's not even remotely close to what they'd once had, but it’s better than nothing, Lance decides, as he sneers at his ex-childhood friend--Keith ‘many firsts’ Kogane--throwing painful jabs and insults his way only to get equally toxic responses in return.

Lance ends up childishly racing Keith with their bikes on the last day of middle school.

As he doubles over, clutches his chest and wheezes out “I win,”--Keith flips him off-- Lance thinks that he catches a hint of a smile on his now-rival’s lips.

High school is actual crap.

Lance gets thrown into a vicious cycle of shit-talking and dramas, melodramas, rinse and repeat, and his raging puberty and horrible teen hormones make it extremely hard for him to achieve success at first. He gets involved in a lot of fights with popular kids calling Pidge and Hunk names, thus earning their wrath--however, it is known that he’d rather die than abandon his friends. If he has to sacrifice his "elite lifestyle" for the duo, so be it.

In the end, Lance gets really involved with the Science club. He’s not that into nerdy stuff, unlike Pidge and Hunk, per se, but the club in itself is fun and the people are very nice, bonus points to cute nerdy girls--that’s how Lance gradually earns a spot for himself underneath the sun that is high school popularity. He's socially active and somehow upgrades to "that class clown with ADD" instead of remaining as "that weird oversensitive and hyperactive reject". Lance admittedly hates the title, but he does have a charming personality and lives for making people laugh, so it can’t be all that bad. He honestly doesn’t care about the haters.

Lance almost wants to laugh at the sudden attention that Keith--who’s now in his class and thus cannot be ignored to the fullest extent--gets showered in, and the love-struck stares that he attracts from girls and guys alike. Lance kind of wants to show them Keith’s middle school pictures full of greasy hair and dark eye bags--or was that smoky make up, no one knows--MCR hoodies, jeans tighter than his asshole, and the ever-present combat boots no matter the actual weather. High school Keith is more laid back, chill almost, even if he still avoids interaction like it's the plague -- like he’s the devil himself and the class’ bonding activities are a silver cross that their class’ president likes to constantly shove into his face.

Keith’s fame comes from his good looks--he’s pulled a complete Ugly Betty--good grades and relations to Shiro, who’s now the hottest shit around, not only look-wise. He'd become the football team’s star player in his freshman year, captain in second, and the amount of people swooning over him is something close to insane. Lance is kind of jealous yet he knows that the rumors of Shiro being an actual god-send are true-- he could never compare. Shiro doesn’t have a single mean bone in his body unless you’re somehow threatening his friends or going against his authority.

Still, it doesn’t help Lance to deal with the whole inferiority complex that he'd been nurturing ever since he'd met Shiro. The older boy is his idol, his goal, endgame, whatever, but Lance subconsciously knows that he’ll never measure up to him. Talented and perfect people like that are only born like once every fifty years.

Lance actually tries to make it to the football team, only to get his bones and pride crushed--in front of Keith no less, that goddamn wet leaf on Shiro’s perfectly sculpted ass cheek, sitting in the stands like a good lap dog. Perhaps it’s a good thing that Lance doesn’t make it--football just isn’t for him. He'd only wanted to get the babes--the head cheerleader, Allura Altea, is like Lance’s ultimate goal for dating--and only a grain of Shiro’s fame.

Keith delivers the finishing blow to Lance’s already broken pride the moment he walks away, head bowed in defeat, and naturally, they end up socking each other for the very first time in high school.

Lance gets pissy when he gets stuck with stupid Keith for prolonged periods of time, but it seems as though they’re cursed to gravitate towards one another. Lance considers shoving Keith into the lockers when he catches a glimpse of him and Hunk interacting, but ends up elbowing his way past his rival instead.

How dare he talk to Hunk after everything that’s happened between them?

Keith only drops his heavy books on Lance’s toes in return as if daring him to go at it, but Lance is on far too many Principal's warnings to even consider it. He doesn’t need permanent expulsion.

When they’re seventeen, one year away from the sweet sweet release of graduation, Lance’s life begins shifting in a different direction.

It starts with some jock party, a lot of beer, weed, and a car accident.

Matt ends up hospitalized and in a critical condition, while Shiro receives a nasty scar across his face and his arm gets crushed so badly that it’s pretty clear he won't be able to walk into the stadium ever again.

Pidge blames Shiro for everything that’s happened--he was the sober one, why didn’t he stop their teammate Rolo, the local infamous stoner, from driving them back home--and that makes visiting hours unbearably awkward, especially when Pidge looks so close to strangling Shiro, who sits by Matt’s side every day in a pathetic slumped mess of agony, mental and physical.

Once they’re done visiting, Lance and Keith sit outside the room smelling of antiseptics with just enough space between them to be comfortable, and Lance pretends that he doesn’t hear Keith sniffling, doesn’t see his shoulders quivering. Keith was at that cursed party, of course he was, and he's still beating himself down for leaving too soon, for being unable to stop this tragedy.

He sits there in Shiro’s over-sized varsity jacket and Lance finally realizes that Keith’s actually so fucking ahead of him, so far away that he’ll never be able to catch up. Lance no longer fills any space in Keith’s new life--it’s all Shiro now. He wants to reach out, close the distance somehow, bring back the past, but he can’t. They can never go back to the way they were--maybe Keith and Pidge or Hunk, but not them. Never them.

Lance wearily gets up, legs jelly-like, and offers Keith a ride home, tries to ignore the surprised watery look that the other gives him.

Keith obediently follows him outside, a few paces behind, eyes red-rimmed and half-hidden by the inky strands, but once they reach Lance’s motorcycle parked further away, Keith awkwardly backs out and makes his way towards the bus stop instead.

Lance tries his hardest to focus on the road and banish Keith and his vulnerable side out of his mind. He likes it when Keith argues, when he stands proud and arrogant, almost devoid of other emotions. It’s almost too easy to forget what he’s truly like, what they had all those years ago. It's easier to hate the unfeeling version of his ex-best friend.

It actually stings.

Lance isn’t too surprised when the entire school raves over the fact that Shiro and Keith are dating. It’s almost expected when he remembers that evening in the hospital.

It feels weird when he sees them holding hands in the hallways or kissing before the bell rings and they have to go their separate ways. They all grew up together, played football, had countless sleepovers, Shiro took baths with them, he was their underpaid babysitter for Christ’s sake, and now Lance gets subjected to this. This… intimacy and romance.

It’s like he’s a kid all over again and that gripping sensation in his rib-cage returns three times stronger.

Lance thinks that he’s probably just worrying over Shiro and his reputation--the guy is far too good to deal with any homophobic shit--but some part of his brain is violently screaming at him ‘that’s not it’.

Pidge stares at him once they’re packing up their Lit notebooks and Lance raises an eyebrow at them.

“What?”

Pidge clicks their tongue and fixes the over-sized glasses. “You have something you wanna tell me?”

Lance shrugs and lets out a sigh of relief when he sees Keith exiting the classroom. That guy’s mullet must have some hypnotic abilities, it keeps drawing in his gaze and makes him zone out. “Other than the fact that I have a banging date in three hours, no, not really.” It’s true. Jess is nice and Lance really wants to score. It’s been a while.

He gets an eyeroll in return. “I’m talking about Keith.”

“What about Mullet man?”

Pidge sighs and fixes the straps of a spaceship-patterned backpack. “Aren’t you bothered by him and Shiro?”

That’s out of the blue, even for Pidge. Lance thinks about it for a moment and contemplates his reply. “I am,” he shrugs and they leave the classroom before the teacher can address his attention issues.

They walk in silence. Lance almost begins freaking out when he realizes how awful that sentence had sounded, no matter how you were willing to take it, but Pidge only hums another question. “You’re going to do anything about that?”

“Absolutely not,” Lance says once they pass the happy couple in question making out in the corner, away from the prying gazes. Lance’s heart throbs when he sees Keith pulling Shiro in closer by the collar of his varsity jacket, and so does his head. This is a weird conversation and he has no idea what it even means.

He should go see the family doctor about his heart issues and insomnia again. Lance needs that confirmation that he’s going to die by the age of twenty, no matter how much the doctor insists that everything’s fine with him. There’s literally no other reason for him to feel like this whenever he goes to school and thinks about the fact that he’ll be seeing Shiro and Keith being gross.

If Lance had secretly hoped for them to break it off--he probably hates Keith, that’s why--he'd never actually wished for a scenario like this.

It almost seems like a one in a million cosmic script that could only happen in a TV drama, yet here he is, stuck in the middle of it.

Now Shiro is a rich kid, they've all known that even way before they'd befriended him. He lives in the better part of their peaceful neighborhood and Lance has seen Shiro’s house more than enough times to reach the conclusion, that yes, Shiro is indeed loaded. He knows that the older teen lives there with his mother and grandmother while his father is some bigshot in the sports industry back in Japan. It comes as a shock when Shiro tells them that he’s working on his transfer papers.

“Father wants us to move back to Japan,” he says it simply when he exits the Principal’s office with a load of documents, as though he'd known all along that one day that’d inevitably happen. “I’ll have to finish up school there. They’re probably going to hold me back a year depending on my skill in Japanese, curriculum, and all that jazz.”

Hunk goes into a rant about how sad it is, Pidge is nowhere to be seen as always--Shiro could grovel at their feet and Pidge would simply step over his curled body, Matt’s damn lucky that he’s not paralyzed--and all Lance hears and thinks is: Shiro’s leaving for Japan and that means that he and Keith are over.

Sure, he feels sad, Shiro’s more of an older brother to him than some of his own siblings, plus the older teen promises to visit at least once before their bunch graduates, but Lance can’t shake this weird feeling of some strange revelation that Keith’s life as he knows--as they all know it --is about to change. Drastically. It’s bizarre, thinking about it--the concept of Keith and Shiro, apart.

Lance goes back home and calmly spends the night in the treehouse with a cup of tea, happy that it’s a Friday. He loses himself in his thoughts and feels a strange sense of dejavu.

Keith skips school for three days, supposedly ill.

When Lance gets back home on a Wednesday afternoon, he’s beyond worn out. The Science fair is inching closer and he has to help out with the decorations and whatnot, almost strangling himself with the blue and white ribbons. He'd slipped at least three times and fell down a ladder once--thankfully, right into Hunk’s waiting arms; despite the near-severe trauma experience, the smooth save still had made some members of the club laugh--and by the time Lance dismounts his bike, he wants nothing more than to hit the bed and sleep for the next ten years, homework be damned.

However, once he pads to the kitchen for a glass of water, Ma gives him a strange look. Bec’ and Maria are sitting by the kitchen table, leaned over Calculus homework, and when Lance asks what, his youngest sister finally gives into the building pressure.

“Lance, go to your room. You have a guest.”

Which is fucking weird and all, because if it was either Hunk or Pidge--or anyone else for that matter--right now they’d be sitting in the kitchen and force-fed Ma’s brownies. His family wouldn’t let them into Lance’s room without his knowledge--it’s a rule that he had to set up after everything that went down between him and–

Lance swallows heavily and runs out of the room at rocket speed, not minding his Ma scolding him for not taking off his shoes. He stops before the door completely covered in peeled off stickers and the remains of a poster, and stares at the faded STAY OUT sign as though its meant for him. It takes him at least fifteen seconds to calm down his wild heart and grasp the handle.

When Lance enters the room, his heart plummets down to his heels and burrows itself under the plush carpet.

Keith is sitting on his bed, the same bed they’ve spent so many nights curled on, mellow gaze focused on the window. Lance almost doesn’t want to disturb this scene--the other just looks so peaceful, one leg brought to his chest with Keith leaning against it.

His breath catches in his throat and the black-haired teen looks up.

Their eyes meet and time stands still as Lance searches those indigo eyes for some explanation, discreetly pinches himself to see if this isn’t just another fever dream. It stings sharply and Keith’s face still betrays no emotion. Kudos to him, over the years he’s certainly mastered that perfect poker face.

Lance feels as though he doesn’t belong in his own goddamn room, like he'd just stepped into some memory that wasn’t his, right until he sees Keith begin shuffling around. He sets both legs on the ground and leans back, eyes drifting to the plain ceiling. Lance tries not to focus too hard on the way his throat arches.

“It’s been a while since I’ve last stayed here,” Keith says, soft-spoken. “It changed--there’s way more space without the extra beds and the wardrobe here--but at the same time, it feels like it has stayed the same.” He looks over to the nightlight, plugged into its usual spot. It still serves loyally but Lance no longer needs to turn it on every night. He has long since defeated his fears.

Lance clears his throat and shuffles around awkwardly, closes the door. “Uh, yeah. I guess I’m not as into redecorating as I'd initially thought.”

Keith snorts. “And you’re still not as punctual as you think you are.”

Screw it, definitely not a dream. “Oh, excuse me, Mr. Reminiscence, I wasn’t exactly expecting to be blessed by your otherworldly presence,” he bites back and walks to the closet, rips off his sweater. Keith’s presence behind his back feels strange. He feels largely self-conscious, a thing that’s never happened in the past. They were perfectly content taking baths together, naked as the day they were born, but drifting apart probably affects the mindset in unspeakable ways.

Lance gives up on trying to change out of his t-shirt and lowers his arms in defeat, sighing. He turns around to face Keith. “What do you want, man? Are you here looking for dirt on me or something, because there’s no way you came over to just,“ he waves a hand around, “to do this. Whatever it is that you’re doing. You haven’t been here for, what now, five years?”

“Six,” Keith whispers, looking down.

“Whatever,” Lance forces out, voice hysteric. Keith always drives him to hysterics. “So what gives? Tell me now or get the fuck out.”

It hurts to say it, but it hurts to see Keith here even more, perched on his bed and looking as though someone has just kicked his puppy multiple times, expression completely unreadable. It’s a blast from the past and not in a good way.

“Lance, I-“ he begins, and that’s amazing in itself because somewhere along the line that breathy Lance has turned into ‘menace’, ‘annoyance’ and ‘jerk’. He fidgets nervously and looks like he did back on that night when Lance had offered him a ride home, obviously contemplating whether leaving would be the best option or not. Keith breathes out and settles his features from vulnerable to serious. “Sit down.”

Lance blinks, incredulous. “Don’t fucking order me around in my own house, asshole-“

“Just sit down. Please!” he groans, obviously exasperated, and they have a stare off. It’s clear that Keith won’t leave until he gets what he wants and Lance would never let his mom see her boys fighting. She never took too well to Keith exiting their lives so abruptly and had always encouraged Lance to reconnect.

Lance plops down on the ground--good job, pal, chased me out of my own bed, what more do you want!? --and continues fuming, sliding over a comic. He’s already read this issue in particular, but anything is better than thinking about Keith’s looming presence. “When you get ready to talk, you tell me or something,” Lance grouches and furiously opens it to a random page.

Keith’s voice is barely a whisper, strained with awkwardness when he says “the Chainsaw hero’s identity wasn’t that big of a plot twist.”

It takes a moment for Lance to fully process what he’s talking about. He feels his heart beat faster at the fact that Keith’s been keeping up with Lance’s favorite comic, the same one that he had introduced to the other boy ages ago. Lance closes it and lets it smack against the floor. “It totally was! I was so sure that it would be Erina!”

The awkwardness dwindles down bit by bit. “No way. She’s obviously Cobra’s sidekick, her stature is too small for that suit.”

Lance gasps and clutches at his chest. “You dare talk such blasphemy about my sweet angel Erina!? She’d never! What kinds of troll theories have you been reading!?”

“She’s obviously the traitor.”

“She’d never betray her friends.” ‘Unlike some people I know’, Lance bitterly thinks and it seems that Keith gets those negative vibes too because he turns closed off once again. They end up sitting in a stifling, painful silence and Lance is about to either lose his mind or explode into a fountain of bullshit one-sided chattering - anything works just to kill this awkward tension that keeps building up with every passing minute. He’s too aware of Keith shifting around and constantly readjusting the pose, the sound of him breathing is driving him insane. Lance almost wants to turn around and yell ‘can you not’.

Keith noisily breathes through his mouth as though he’s panicking and after a few failed attempts of speaking up, he quietly groans. “Lance, look at me.”

The mentioned teen wants to do the exact opposite, wants to keep determinedly glaring away at the small closet, wants to defy Keith, but that voice attracts his attention like no other.

Keith’s face is too dangerously close and he stares like he wants to drill holes into Lance’s skull, obviously scared out of his mind as though Lance is the one holding a knife to his throat here and not the other way around. Keith’s so goddamn unfairly beautiful that it quite literally takes the brunet’s breath away.

“This is so fucked up,” Keith mutters, barely audible, and Lance doesn’t even get to blink twice before there’s a hand fisting his shirt and he gets pulled up a few centimeters by the collar. The space between them that Lance had tried so desperately to close, finally does. Keith’s mouth is searing hot against his and the way he kisses is nothing like when they were kids--it’s determined, searching for the lingering remains of a mutual attraction, and undeniably skillful.

Lance’s mind is hazy, thoughts an incomprehensible mess when he thinks "of course Keith knows how to kiss", he'd spent all that time practicing with Shiro, locking lips over and over again, and it’s enough to make Lance place a possessive hand on the back of that pale neck. He pulls Keith in closer and blames it on instinct, on some inferiority complex, a petty sense of jealousy and an overwhelming urge to wipe off the traces of Shiro’s existence off Keith’s lips so that it’s all him--mine and mine alone, Lance thinks, and licks at the seam of Keith’s lips, desperate.

Keith gives in, equally passionate, and produces a low whine that makes Lance more than a little hot under the collar. Keith keeps pulling at his shirt and Lance follows the other’s lead, clumsily climbs onto the bed and over the boy that he’s always wanted in some twisted way for as long as he could remember.

This is indeed very fucked up, he muses, but keeps going until Keith’s nearly suffocating in his hold, tongue shoved deep down the black-haired teen’s throat and licking away in the best way that he knows--the kind of stuff that makes girls melt in his arms--but Keith doesn’t give in, not even for a moment.

It’s hot and messy and leaves goosebumps rising along Lance’s skin, but he slowly remembers that the door isn’t locked and has to pull away no matter how nice it feels when Keith sucks on his tongue like that. The guy snags his lower lip between his teeth, craving for more contact, too scared to end it and face the cold harsh reality, and Lance is a weak weak man. He collapses back into Keith’s waiting arms that instantly wrap around his neck, slim fingers tugging at the short strands of brown hair on the nape of his neck, too good, too sweet.

Like they’re something when they’re not.

They suck face for at least ten more minutes until Lance finally decides that if they go any further, kissing alone won’t suffice. They really can’t do stuff like this with his family out there, even if his heart is aching and he's dying to stick his hands under Keith’s tight gray shirt and down his pants.

He’s panting --while Lance has had his fair share of make outs, none of them had lasted this long or left him feeling so boneless--and then he looks at Keith, cursed beautiful bright-eyed Keith, who’s breathing a bit heavily himself, cheeks flushed and eyes shining.

Lance feels himself being drawn in again. And again. And again.

It almost feels like some sort of betrayal. To Shiro, his own ego, years of meaningless fighting, everything that he considers normal, but they continue kissing and touching - and honestly? It feels like they’re whole for the first time in years.

His Ma cries when Lance walks downstairs with Keith holding onto his hand and hugs them both, tight enough to make their bones creak, yelling at them for being dumb boys all the while. Lance feels awkward, dazed, like none of this is real and he’ll wake up at any given moment now. But here he is, witnessing Keith shrinking under Rebecca’s intense dark blue-eyed gaze as though he’s expecting her to punch him for leaving like this, but she only rushes into his arms and hugs tight. Maria kicks Keith's shin and sandwiches him from behind, the beginnings of tears shining in her eyes.

Keith stands very still, exchanges a few hushed words with Lance’s sisters and when their eyes meet, Lance finds himself pulled in all over again. He peels off the girls and they excuse themselves after turning down grand dinner offers. They end up spending the evening walking around the neighborhood, carefully avoiding Shiro’s street, settling down on the swings once they get tired, and just… catching up.

Keith’s quieter than before, but so is Lance, probably because he still doesn’t know what to say, but the silences are companionable rather than painfully awkward as they were before. They avoid talking about what had occurred, about Shiro and Keith’s home life, but at the time it seems that they don’t need to, too high on each other.

They end up kicking around a can of Dr. Pepper that Lance finds in the same field where they'd first met and Keith’s laughing again, damn beautiful and perfect. Once the stars come out and they have to go back home, Lance kisses Keith under the same tree where he'd found him years ago, the boy with bruised knees and colorful band aids, the goddamn enigma of his life.

Keith refuses to be walked back and Lance reluctantly obeys, dragging his converse shoes over the pavement and brainstorming how he’s going to tell Pidge and Hunk about this.

Hunk makes the confession of talking to Keith for the past year right under Lance’s radar, and the brunet doesn’t have it in him to be mad because the bomb that he’s just dropped is far more intense.

He stares at Pidge’s ‘I knew it’ text like it’s supposed to carry a hidden meaning but he cannot decipher it for the life of him.

He doesn’t sleep well that night, thinking of Keith and his reasons of approaching him instead.

He spends another week doing just that and thinks that it’s pretty clear that Keith’s simply lonely and this is how he’s coping with the loss of Shiro.

Pidge’s words constantly haunt him.

Are you dating?

Obviously not, Lance assumes, because they’re still sassing each other in public, except it’s far more tame, playful even, and no one would ever think that he and Keith are dating. In fact, Keith never speaks about it, never says something along the lines of ‘Lance, I like you, let’s go out’. They never talk about the possibility of it, not even when they’re kissing under the bleachers while skipping P.E.

Keith still flinches back whenever Shiro’s leave pops up into their conversations and Lance can respect that, wants to respect it. He won’t force himself on a guy who’s desperate for reconnection and physical contact. Nothing more and he can live with that.

He’s too scared to ask anyway.

Do you love him?

He does. He's always loved Keith, always. Back in the day, Keith was like a brother to him and Lance loves all of his friends dearly. Keith brings out fuzzy feelings in him, brings out the lust, but is he in love? Probably not. He doesn’t know. He thinks that he isn’t, wants to believe that he isn’t, because Keith doesn’t want him like that, doesn’t want him like Lance wants him, even if he doesn’t have a name for that feeling yet. It’s better not to get too attached, keep it casual, and see where it goes from there. Once they figure it out, Lance will think about it more carefully.

They’re both more of a ‘live in the moment’ reckless guys anyway.

So when he sees how angry Keith gets the moment he catches Lance harmlessly flirting with Nyma--they’re bad for each other but the thrills are still nice--he doesn’t get what’s wrong.

He doesn’t get why Keith shoves him away, why he cares so much, and gets riled up himself. Lance hasn’t slept well for days, insomnia acting up, and sure, he says dumb self-absorbed shit to Keith, and really, he shouldn’t be too surprised when he sees Keith’s shoulders slumping down in defeat, voice small and strained and indigo eyes wide.

“I can’t believe this, what the… I don’t give a shit who you’re hitting on, girls or guys, it doesn’t fucking matter.”

They’re at least five minutes late to class, and Lance throws a nervous look over his shoulder, watching out for the teachers. Wrong move.

“Look, there’s nothing wrong with--“ Lance stares with a pinched frown, mouth slightly open and it’s obvious that something is very wrong, but he stays silent.

Keith breathes in twice, and his glare wavers when he forces out through clenched teeth, “Is monogamy a thing too much to ask for?”

And okay, hold that thought.

Lance kind of wants to laugh at this situation. His brain process is constantly crashing, but he somehow manages to yip a dumb, high-pitched, “We aren’t dating, though?”

And so Keith leaves Lance standing in the empty hallway after he’s done messing up his black-hair over and over again, followed by “I fucking hate you, never speak to me again.”

From: Hunk G.

Apologize to him right now, i dont care whos right and whos wrong, but fix this right now

To: Hunk G.

he wont look my way

From: Hunk G.

Damn i wonder why. Its mostly your fault, dude, youre the one who was leading him on

To: Hunk G.

ME!? im the one? he never even bothered to clear up ANYTHING between us he just randomly barged into my house one day how the fuck was i supposed to know about this. im not a goddamn mind reader

From: Hunk G.

Well, now you know that he thought you were a thing, so fix this!!!

To: Hunk G.

i cant

From: Hunk G.

What do you mean you cant!? Is this about him cutting you off again you literally share classes just corner him or something i dont know youre good at that

To: Hunk G.

i mean i cant because i dont know how i feel about him. i dont want anything serious until i figure it out. i dont want to “””lead him on””” god forbid

From: Hunk G.

Youre a goddamn idiot, lance.

Three weeks of bliss and Keith Kogane disappears from his life once again.

Lance --the coward that he is, the stupid mindful coward who doesn’t want to hurt the guy he feels complex feelings for even further--tries to stay out of his way, hoping, wishing, that Keith would swallow his damn pride and just approach him for once.

Maybe he just needs a good kick in the ass to get his shit together.

But Keith avoids him like the plague and Lance barely notices the days stretching into weeks, into months, a year. Graduation day inches closer and closer, until he has nothing else left to do but to focus on his final exams.

Keith channels in his inner nerd and hides out in the library, nose-deep in books, and his presence is that of a shadow whenever Lance sees him in class, sitting as far away as possible.

Lance finally comes to terms with everything--this is it. He's fucked it up and he’s never getting a second chance. Keith was the one who had given him a second shot and he threw it right back into that pretty face.

The chances of them talking again are close to none and soon enough Lance won’t get to see Keith ever again, eyes already set on the small apartment located a few cities away where he’ll be attending college starting September.

Fixing everything at this point is rather, uh, pointless.

And judging by Keith’s intense glares, he knows that if he’s to approach the other, he’ll end up with a broken nose.

And yet, Lance fucking craves for the other’s goddamn attention no matter how bad it might be, wants to have Keith by his side whenever he tosses and turns around in his empty bed, throwing off notebooks from the sheets. His mind always travels back to that playground, to Keith’s smile, to Keith in general, and those three weeks of dream-like state.

Becca and Maria won’t talk to him anymore.

Ma tries to remain supportive but, she too, seems to think that it’s his fault for letting that boy go.

Lance just wants to be left alone. Returning home has never felt more emotionally draining.

The graduation party is rather grand and Lance’s date is a stunning girl from a parallel class with whom he had exchanged a few sentences while working on the props for school plays. They don’t really talk much, but it’s better to go with someone rather than alone. She leaves Lance when he shows no signs of asking her out to dance anytime soon and Lance spends the evening with Pidge and Hunk, drinking spiked punch. Pidge is a lightweight so it doesn’t take long before Hunk takes them home, sending a concerned look Lance’s way, but the brunet merely waves him off, feeling slightly buzzed.

He decides to mingle around. He wants to properly say goodbye to the people who actually like him.

Looking under the bleachers for his club friend Cas is a bit of a mistake because he only finds some graduate groups toking up, a few couples making out, and oh joy, Keith, drunk off his fucking roof, surrounded by some guys from the football team.

They hold eye contact for a bit and Lance wants to bail, but the black-haired teen stands on unsteady legs and points at Lance’s retreating back. “Stop right there, asshole!”

He halts but doesn’t look back, and slowly inhales when he hears Keith’s rushed steps, followed by a high-pitched ‘ow, fucker, watch the dress!’

Keith’s grip on Lance’s shoulder is burning and it almost hurts at how hard that hold is. Keith turns him around effortlessly. What the hell is up with that guy’s strength, really?

Lance forces a smile, plays the fool, “Oh hey there, Keith, didn’t see you-“

Keith steps back with his arms spread out wide and almost falls down at the sudden movement. “Cut the crap, McClain, you could fucking notice my mullet even if I was standing on the goddamn rooftop and you were located on the other side of the stadium.”

His speech is strangely steady for someone so hammered. Lance tries not to check him out too much--the black suit and the wine-red shirt are the stuff his dreams are made of. Keith obviously doesn’t miss the stare.

“So this is it, huh?” he hiccups and lowers his arms. A sardonic smile stretches his lips. “Finally won’t have to pretend that I don’t exist, huh? Bet you’re reaaaaal happy about that.” Keith punches his shoulder none too gently.

Lance tries not to rub at the sore spot. “I think that you should stop drinking,” he offers quietly.

“It’s a good thing that I don’t care about what you think then.” That smile is getting really unnerving. Keith continues looking at him even as he peels away the cup of booze from some guy’s fingers and takes a sip of it, winking at Lance. “Kind of like how you don’t care about peoples' feelings, but hey, we can’t all be perfect.”

It goes straight through his heart.

“Keith, you really-“

“I’m not done, shut up.” The black-haired teen presses a finger to his dry lips and Lance can feel the way his fingertip smooths over his lower lip, obviously meant to be discreet but Keith’s reaction isn’t top notch. Neither are his stealth skills. “Okay, good. I just wanna tell you that even after you tap-danced all over my feelings I actually don’t hate you?”

Lance opens his mouth again only to have the other pinch the lips shut, painful. “I mean, I could tell you to go fuck yourself right now, but I won’t. Whatever. If you want, you can continue acting like a piece of shit for the sake of this shit show, but I’m tired, okay? I’m really tired. So shove your tongue down my throat one last time for good ol’ times sake, what do you say?”

Keith stands before him, eyes brimming with that specific emotion that Lance still cannot place a name on. The people gathered behind them gape at the duo as though they cannot believe what they’re hearing.

Lance gently takes Keith's slim wrist and pulls the probing hand away no matter how much he wants to take up Keith’s offer, but this isn’t the right place or the time. Keith’s eyes flash hurt, just for a second, and he clicks his tongue before Lance can manage to explain himself. “Thought as much.”

He stumbles back and covers his eyes with a sweaty palm. “Glad that I met you but it wasn’t nice knowing you, McClain.”

When Lance returns home and shakily pours ginger tea into a thermos, he doesn’t know what’s wrong.

Only when he’s finally alone inside the small treehouse, he realizes how fucking alone he actually is. Lance curls up and breaks down crying, muffled sobs shaking his entire body like the leaves blown in the night wind.

College is supposed to be a fresh start, a new page in Lance’s life.

He has an apartment that he rents together with Hunk, a part-time job to help with the bills, and a goal to become successful in the future.

He thinks that this will do him good. No more familiar faces, no more haunting memories of that treehouse. His father considers tearing it down because Maria, the youngest child, is too old to be hanging out there and she doesn’t have the same kind of attachment to it like Lance does.

Ma still insists on keeping the wooden toys, forcefully tearing the trash bag out of Lance’s hands when he's about to dispose of them.

Only the names scribbled in faded markers remain on those walls along with freshly-carved numbers of the date Lance has finally moved out.

The Saturn-shaped night light is left behind.

His memories with Keith continue haunting him every day, because by some otherworldly powers of this universe, that have decided that this isn’t the end, and by some cosmic chance, they end up going to the same college. Lance’s just glad that he’s not living in the dorms.

They pretend that they don’t know each other.

When Shiro returns, this time permanently, Lance and Hunk throw a separate welcome back party for him. It’s a wild night full of fun, arcade games, followed by bar hopping and catching up, and Lance never would’ve thought that he’d ever miss Shiro this badly. They tease him for his graying hair and jokingly begin calling him dad, but joke’s on Lance and his daddy innuendos because Shiro takes a sip of his beer and tells him that he and Keith are back together.

He decides that it’s the perfect time to get hammered and ends up getting dragged back home by his companions far too early than he would’ve liked.

Keith’s life is none of his business, after all.

Lance is finishing up his shift at the local mall--stacking shit isn’t all that fun, but he saves up the money that he’d be spending on gym, so that’s good, even Hunk says that he’s slowly building up muscle mass--and is heading towards the exit when he gets a text.

He thinks that it can be ignored and read later--a single look outside leaves him wincing; it seems like something akin to a tropical storm, the sky is an ugly yellowish gray color and the ride on his bike won’t be a very pleasant one--but there’s another buzz and it has to be urgent. Thinking that it’s his dumb group chat for the politics’ project, he unlocks the screen only to get greeted by an unknown number.

The one he may have deleted from his phone but not from his mind.

From: (unknown)

Please come get me.

From: (unknown)

I have no one else to turn to.

Lance instantly gets drenched by the ceaseless water pouring out in buckets from high heavens above and he curses when he constantly has to wipe at his screen to text back, key already turned in the ignition.

Keith texts him the location and Lance pulls on his helmet, nervous sweat gathering on his brow. If Keith’s texting him of all the people then it must be seriously bad.

Then again, lately, it doesn’t seem like he has anyone to turn to.

And no matter what has happened in the past, Lance could never abandon someone like this.

He’s seen Keith in shambles before, has seen him shaken up and crying silently, but the sight that greets him isn’t a pleasant one.

The rain doesn’t let up no matter what and he catches sight of the black-haired man immediately--completely drenched, hair and clothes stuck to him like a second skin, as though they’re painted on a mannequin. He’s sitting on the sidewalk in front of a convenience store in a remotely empty street, away from the probing gazes of others.

He looks pathetic in his dark t-shirt, skinny jeans and beat up sneakers.

Lance skids to a halt before him, tires screeching wetly, and Keith’s head snaps up, eyes rimmed red and lower lip quivering. He looks as though he has no idea what Lance is doing here, then again, he's probably never expected for the other to actually show up.

Lance takes off his helmet, brown strands immediately flattening under the steady stream of water.

For a long moment, they wordlessly stare at each other until Lance extends his arm to Keith, presents the electric-blue spare helmet with a sad smile. “Get on, buddy. I got you.”

This time, Keith doesn’t struggle, only lets out a soft sound that seems like a suppressed sob, and settles behind Lance, the skin chilled by the merciless wind and the cool water, gradually warming up underneath the brunet’s thick jacket.

Keith’s ghostly presence on his bed brings him back to the past.

His black hair is stringy and leaking and he’s positively drowning in Lance’s gray hoodie, only fingertips poking out through the sleeves, light pink from the warm ceramic cup full of ginger tea held between his hands. He blows at the steam and looks out the window, taking small sips every now and then.

Lance’s too busy channeling his long since forgotten cooking skills to whip something up for the shaken man.

They don’t talk, the soft alternative rock blasting from Lance’s laptop filling in the silence.

To be honest, Lance is freaking the fuck out.

He doesn’t know what to say, how to react, what emotions he should show. Their last conversation wasn’t exactly a pleasant one and he’d rather completely erase the memory of getting Hunk’s message about Keith silently crying under the bleachers after Lance had bailed. Wow, so they both cried, great. Much good it did them.

Much good it did when Keith moved out without saying a word.

Did he do the right thing, bringing Keith here? The guy didn’t tell him where to take him exactly, so naturally, Lance had thought this to be the best course of action, but anyone who’s spent at least three minutes around him knows that he isn’t too good at thinking on the spot when he’s under mental pressure.

Strangely enough, having Keith around isn’t as pressuring as he thought it’d be. Lance’s more concerned about speaking up rather than thinking of Keith as an unwanted presence, and he’s a master at talking an unnecessary amount. He usually doesn’t think about what he should say, just does it, so why can’t he do it now, why why why –

Naturally, Keith is the first one to speak up. He’s probably noticed his struggles and jitters. “Thanks for this. If you’re uncomfortable with me staying, I can leave.” Blunt as ever. He sets down the empty cup on the ground.

Lance whirls around and walks out of the kitchenette, almost tripping over the plush carpet. “No. Nonono! It’s fine!” he babbles and his head is positively spinning. “It’s fine if you stay.”

“But do you-“

“I. I want you to stay,” he hiccups, eyes wide and face red from shame. He’s usually not like this but Keith tends to destroy his grip on reality more often than not. “For now. Just, uh. Rest?”

Keith blinks at him, eyes wide and full of amazement as thought this is the first time he’s seeing Lance. It’s weird, to say the least. “Alright. Just for a little while.” The black-haired man nervously fiddles with the hoodie’s strings.

Lance stands before him and Keith looks up, cautious, moves to the side a little as if to tell the brunet to join in. He does just that.

Another look at his ex-not quite boyfriend’s face makes him smile and huff a laugh. Keith’s eyebrow rises but he says nothing. Lance laughs again. “So much for goodbyes, huh?”

There’s some shuffling by his side. Keith curls up into a ball, chin resting on his knees. “It seems so.”

“Guess Lady Universe just doesn’t want us to part on bad terms,” Lance jokes and Keith’s stare is steady, eyebrows furrowed a little. This is spiraling out of control surprisingly fast.

“I meant everything I said and I won’t apologize for any of it.”

The brunet rubs his palms over his face, tired. “I didn’t ask you to do it. Just gotta clear up that I never meant for any of this shit show to occur, if it means anything to you now. Clearing my own consciousness or whatever.”

What Lance doesn’t expect is the sob that reaches him and he almost recoils when he sees Keith shaking like that. His heart aches and he reaches out to touch his shoulder by reflex, but the other just swats the hovering limb away.

“Whoa, Keith, hey…” Lance lowers his voice, ready to soothe and comfort. It seems to affect the other even more and not in the way he wants.

“Shit show, he says. Clearing your consciousness?” Keith's nose still scrunches up when he smiles. “Lance, this might be news to you because you obviously don’t fucking know me or even bothered to get to know me on a deeper level, I can clearly see that now, but do you really think that I’m some sort of unfeeling ice-cold bitch just because I don’t know how to talk it out!? Real convenient, Lance, good job blaming it all on me back then. Did you even think about asking me anything? Or were you all like ‘shit this guy just randomly wants a pity fest, might as well’.”

“I didn’t think that you actually felt that way about me, you were dating Shiro-“

“I was dating Shiro because he actually got to know me unlike you and your blind, dense ass. Well fuck that now, we just broke up. We couldn’t reconnect anymore.”

Lance’s heart is beating loudly in his ears at this new information. “I didn’t know, I-“

Keith wipes away the mixture of tears and snot with the sleeve and turns on his rage mode. Lance flinches away when he yells, still strikingly beautiful even with drying tear tracks on his cheekbones. “Of course you didn’t fucking know. Why else do you think I went out of my fucking way and kissed you!? I didn’t think you’d realize it any other way. I didn’t say anything, you ass, because you were all about chicks ever since you turned ten and I was fine with just being by your side as a friend. Your best friend, Lance.”

Tears well up in his eyes again as he carries on. “I have goddamn feelings even if I don’t exactly know what to say at times, so I’m sorry that I expected you, the shit talker extraordinaire, to at least fucking ask me if I like you. Do you have any idea what my childhood was like, man? I used to get beaten to a fucking pulp for speaking about my feelings. I used to get cigarette burns from that monster for saying a single word out of turn. So yeah, just push it all on me.”

Lance feels himself shivering. The rain pelts away at the windows like a million of gunshots.

Keith looks at his quivering hands as though he has no idea how to control them. “I pissed off because that goddamn monster threatened to beat my mom if I kept escaping through the windows at night. I pissed off because he threatened to get my ‘little faggot crush’ if I kept hanging out around you. I thought I could keep it up and then I couldn’t, and the moment he fucking bailed on us I knew that I could go to your house and just. I – I guess it just wasn’t what I expected. And this is it, Lance. This is the last time we meet because my goddamn mother is drowning in hospital bills and there’s no one else to pay for them--“ Keith’s eyes are wide, fearful, and for the first time in his life, Lance finds himself lacking words, his thoughts travelling hundreds of miles per minute.

His voice shakes when he finally manages to summon it, weak and small. “W-What do you mean…?”

Keith looks at some point on the wall and he seems tired, like he’s given up on life. Lance fears this state. “She was diagnosed with lung cancer a few years back. I guess that’s what she deserves for smoking that crap all the time. That… rat bailed on us the moment he heard about hospitals and debts. I may be an awful person, I may hate her for siding with him all those times, but she’s still my mom, Lance. You’d do the same. You wo--“

Stop.

“Okay, enough of this,” he loudly interrupts and Keith’s eyes are wide, hurt, but Lance doesn’t get to observe the specks of indigo and the flashes of emotions, Keith’s twitching frame warm in his arms, squeezing tight.

There’s a deep breath, followed by another and then the dam breaks, Keith’s sobs muffled into his shoulder, wet with an ever-growing spot of tears. He mumbles something and Lance screws his eyes shut, rocks him slowly when it gets worse.

“Shh, it’s fine, you’re going to be alright…” he says constantly, heart squeezing in his chest too painfully. It feels like Keith’s stabbing it with every choked up inhale that he sucks in. "You'll figure it. I know you will."

“I quit c-college today, Lance, I quit, I didn’t want to, I didn’t--“ he hyperventilates and digs his fingers into Lance’s thin sweatshirt, leaving behind bruises on his torso. He doesn’t complain, tries to act like a sponge for the other instead.

Keith’s been holding up for far too long. He needs to cry, let it out. He’s too young to be dealing with so much, too young to drown in debt and have his dreams crushed.

When the sobbing gradually subsides, Lance shifts their position, wipes at the bruises under those deep indigo eyes. He cannot believe how much he loves them.

He fucking loves Keith. So much.

“You’re an idiot, Keith,” he says, a bit choked up himself. “You didn’t have to deal with this alone. You've always had Hunk and Pidge, Shiro and Matt.” And after a pause. “My family and I. You always had me. I would’ve come running if I knew what was going on and I don’t think that sorry is going to cut it.”

He takes in a deep breath. Might as well get it out there. “Truth be told, I think I was always into you. I just wanted to deny it after everything. I mean, we weren’t on the best of terms and it’s not like I had many hopes to begin with. Yeah, I thought that I was a rebound after the whole Shiro thing and I never asked coz I didn’t think you were taking me serious. Obviously, I was wrong.” He smiles when he hears Keith mumbling ‘damn right you were’. “Guess we’re both dense as fuck. So now we’re even.”

Keith only nods, as if disappointed by this ending, and Lance has him right where he wants him. “Oh and, uh, one more thing. You can slap the heck out of me if you wanna but I gotta say it, so listen carefully.”

“Lance, get on with it already-“

“I’ve always loved you.”

He'd missed Keith’s raspberry lemonade blush and the pink ear tips.

A few minutes pass. The other leans in closer to Lance, squinting, cautious. “Like family?”

Who’s the dense one here again?

Lance only shrugs, still grinning. “If I laid you down and made sweet sweet love to you, would you still be asking that?”

It obviously takes a moment for Keith to process. He opens his mouth a couple of times only to close it, and hums a surprised “oh”.

Lance doesn’t need an answer now. They don’t have to say anything. He playfully nudges Keith’s shoulder. “So do you want me to make sweet love to you or not?”

Keith runs a hand through his hair, messing it up in the front. It stands in a rather funny and endearing way. Lance wiggles his eyebrows and Keith only snorts in reply, shoving back. “I think that right now I can settle for a kiss and some cuddling. Don’t want this to get to your head too fast.”

“I think I can work with that,” Lance mumbles, eyes already fixed on Keith’s lips.

The touch of their lips is electrifying and he’s missed this enveloping heat, wants to lick away the tear salt staining those pale pink lips. Keith cups his face gently, fingertips skimming over the smooth tanned skin and tilts his head to the side for a better access. Lance’s stomach erupts in butterflies and all kinds of crawly things because butterflies just aren’t enough to describe what he’s feeling.

Keith disconnects for a moment to hotly whisper against his lips. “I’ve loved you since I was nine, Lance.”

The brunet plants a soft smooch on him, feeling high on affection. “I win. I’ve loved you since the day we met.”

“Cheater.”

Lance kisses Keith in return.

yaboilance sent a snap

OPENED:

“found myself a gf”

pidgeygun sent a snap

OPENED:

“is that keith in a blond curly wig”

yaboilance sent a snap

OPENED:

“now why would you say that”

pidgeygun took a screenshot