Leones voladores
chapter 1
A Discipline Issue
. . .
There was a knock on Shiro's door. He lifted his head, pausing mid push-up, his arms bent at the elbow, bracing himself on the front knuckles of his fists, toes touching the floor, legs butt and back straight as a plank. His black tank top was drenched in sweat, his dull brown sweatpants itched at the ankles.
"Come in."
The door slid open halfway to reveal a slender small statured young boy with long black hair and large terrified eyes. Shiro frowned, he sat up immediately, his training routine completely forgotten.
"Keith?"
But the kid didn't respond, only continued staring at him with those wide greyish eyes. Setting his jaw, Shiro stood, walked the few paces to his door, looked out into the hallway: left, right, no one there. He slid the door shut behind Keith, and turned his attention to his younger pal.
"What happened?"
Keith slithered off to Shiro's cot, promptly dropped onto the covers and buried his face in his knees.
"Keith!" Shiro all but gasped, grasping at air with his hands, not knowing what to say.
"My life at the Garrison is officially over," Keith murmured into his knees.
Shiro blinked. Keith started to shake, tremors ran over his back in gut wrenching little jerks. No, no, this wasn't supposed to happen. Shiro couldn't let this happen, not to Keith! The boy had more than enough on his plate without this, this whatever this was. Within seconds Shiro sat by his friend on the cot and placed a comforting hand, well hopefully a comforting hand, on his friend's back. Minutes passed in silence. Shiro wasn't good at this. He wasn't good at comforting people, or dealing with... with feelings. It's not like he had much practice doing so either. There was a reason Shiro had signed up for space exploration at the Galaxy Garrison, a reason he got assigned to pilot the ship and protect the crew, tasks that had to be carried out with near military precision. He was no therapist and no guidance counselor. He wasn't supposed to talk about his feelings, he was expected to bottle them up. He only had a handful of friends, and none of them completely let their walls down around him... well, not until now.
It felt awkward keeping his hand on Keith's back. What if it wasn't helping? What if it only made things worse? He could swear he heard Keith sob into his pants, but the kid kept his face hidden and when he finally did look up, his eyes were dry.
"Thank you Shiro," the boy mouthed softly as the corners of his mouth tugged up in a pained smile, a fake smile, meant to reassure Shiro.
No no no! He wasn't the one who needed reassuring. This was going all wrong, why was he so awful at this? Shiro pursed his lips. How should he handle this? He didn't want to pressure the boy into talking if he really didn't want to tell, that was okay, but at the same time... at the same time he didn't want Keith to feel like he was all alone. He wanted to be there for him, he wanted to be a good friend.
Shiro dropped his arm from the boy's back. He felt cold. He stood, paced the room, and draped his Lieutenant jacket over his bare shoulders. He shot Keith a look.
"Is someone giving you shit?"
The boy blinked, then ardently shook his head. "No, no! It's all my fault."
Shiro couldn't help the faintly amused smile creep up onto his lips, he set his hands on his hips and tilted his head to the side. "Now why do I find that hard to believe?"
"It's true!" the boy shouted, grey eyes wide and unblinking.
Shiro let out a long sigh, and lowered himself down till he sat cross-legged on the floor, looking up at Keith. He didn't say anything, simply waited for Keith to start talking.
"This is it..." Keith said in a breaking voice, "I'm... I'm going to get expelled."
Shiroh shook his head dismissively, but remained silent, his frown locked on Keith's wide pleading eyes.
"Last night..." Keith bit his lower lip, squeezed his eyes shut. "I broke curfew and snuck into another cadet's room."
This was news to Shiro. He started, eyes growing wider by the second. What?
"Why would you jeopardize your future like that?"
The words tumbled out of Shiro's mouth before he could stop himself... he wasn't good at this. Keith's eyes shot open, a guilt stricken expression wracked his face.
"I... uhh... well," Keith started, a flush taking over his cheeks.
Shiro immediately regretted his earlier words.
"I just wanted to... you know... meet in private...," Keith hung his head. "But then the roommate stormed in and got mad at us."
Shiro let out a heavy breath... So it was like that, huh. Well he supposed it was bound to happen eventually, Keith was no longer a child, even though Shiro still saw him as one. He shouldn't be so surprised, really. How old had he been when he'd met Lilah on that Summer Break he'd spent at his grandparents' home? Sixteen? Fifteen? No, younger. He still remembered the forest and Lilah's sun tanned legs so very very clearly... she'd given him her number but then he never called, worried he'd say the wrong thing. When he finally did work up the courage to dial her number and not hang up, her warm voice had told him she was with someone else. He hadn't called her after that, though her number was still on his phone.
Keith's words shook him out of his childhood nostalgia.
"He said he would file a report," Keith said, clutching the covers on the cot in his bony fingers.
Shiro blinked. Wait a second... "He?"
If possible, Keith flushed an even darker shade of red and refused to look Shiro in the eye. The Garrison would never let a girl and a boy room together. Their dormitories were even on different floors. So if the roommate of Keith's lover was a 'he'... then that meant... Oh. Shiro nearly slapped himself in the face. He was a moron, he was making a big deal out of it when he was supposed to be helping Keith. What a pathetic excuse for a friend he was. Keith started trembling again, his shoes scraping the floor.
"Okay calm down. No one is going to expel you from the Garrison."
Keith stilled, slowly his eyes raised to Shiro's and now they were wet with unshed tears. Shiro mentally kicked himself, but continued speaking, his voice growing more urgent by the second.
"You are their best student! Only the most boneheaded commander would expel his top student over a one night fling."
Keith's eyes went wide, but the tears didn't drop down his cheeks. He made a small choked sound, then whispered: "It's more than a one night thing."
In the same urgent tone Shiro continued, "But this is the first time it happened?"
"Yeah."
"Most you will get is a warning." Shiro tried to smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.
Keith smiled back, a tear slipped from his eye.
"Just... don't do it again?"
Keith's smile fell.
"Not on campus," Shiro quickly added, frowning and letting his tone slip back to the urgent voice from before. "It's too risky. If you get caught, you can kiss your scholarship goodbye."
Keith blinked. More tears stained his cheeks and the fear returned to his eyes. Shiro wanted to slap himself again. But he couldn't help it, he was worried. He didn't want Keith to throw his life away over some guy he'd never see again. Shiro took a deep breath, he had to ask this. Maybe if he put this delicately?
"Okay, what about evidence?"
Keith knit his brows together. "Huh?"
In a calm steady voice, well, as calm as he could get it, Shiro pushed on. "Did you leave any... evidence?"
Keith cocked his head in mild confusion.
Ack, there was no delicate way to put this! "Did you clean up after yourself? Got rid of the condom?"
Keith's face turned bright pink.
Shiro coughed into his hand. "Condoms?"
Keith bit his lip.
Shiro stared at him for what felt like two minutes. "Tell me you used condoms..."
"We didn't have any." Keith shrugged, looking as miserable as Shiro felt.
"You both need to get yourselves examined in the doctor's office."
"I think we should be fine," Keith blurted out, "it's not like there was any penetration..."
Shiro could feel the sweatdrop that ran down his own forehead. Keith blinked, then clamped a hand over his mouth.
"Well as long as you got rid of all the evidence," Shiro went on once he could trust his voice to remain steady, "you shouldn't get into trouble. After all that snitch will have nothing to back up his claims. It's not like the Garrison will take any action based on hearsay. Especially if it's you."
Keith's brows tented. In an uncertain voice he mumbled: "So I have nothing to worry about?"
"Just..." Shiro sighed, "be more careful next time. The Garrison doesn't take lightly to violations of discipline. You will have to follow strict orders when you are in outer space."
"Yeah." Keith dipped his head.
"And Keith?"
The kid looked up till their eyes locked. Shiro gave him the warmest smile he could.
"I want you to know there's nothing wrong with being with another man... or ...wanting to be."
Keith's eyes widened a fraction as he took in Shiro's words.
"You're a fine young man, and this is very natural."
Keith's breath caught in his throat. "Are... you ...?" he said in a small voice.
"No," Shiro grinned, "I'm just attracted to girls... Have the pin-ups in my wallet to prove it."
Keith snorted, barely holding back laughter.
"Listen, everything will be better once I get back from the Kerberos Mission. I'll get promoted to Captain, and then I can help keep you out of trouble."
They both dissolved into a fit of healthy laughter, Shiro slumping his back against the wall and Keith doubling over on the cot. A number of tears still spilled from Keith's closed eyes, but Shiro knew the kid would pull through. He was strong enough, he would be okay.
. . .
It didn't go quite as planned. The Kerberos Mission was declared a failure, with Shiro and all of the crew declared Missing In Action. Keith didn't sleep that night. He stayed up till dawn watching the news, and searching for more articles online, sitting up in bed, in the dark with only the faint ghostly green halo from his phone lighting up his pinched face, after his roommate had gone to sleep.
But all the papers said the same thing, they all confirmed the sinking sensation he felt in his gut: he would never see his best friend again.
Keith let his tears flow freely into Todd's bare chest. The hand in his hair made slow comforting movements.
"I just don't understand," he breathed, the skin visibly tensed under his hot wet breath. "Why? Shiro was the best pilot we had."
"Is," Todd reminded him, "for all we know he could still be alive, stranded somewhere in space."
Keith looked up at his boyfriend's face. "Do you actually believe that?"
Todd's cheekbones went up, creasing his hazel eyes. "I want to believe," he admitted, hesitantly, slowly...
Keith felt fresh tears well up in the corners of his eyes. He had the best boyfriend ever. What did he ever do to deserve him? As the tears gushed down his cheeks, he pressed his lips against Todd's, staining both their faces in salt.
The night was cold. They snuck back into their dorms undetected, holding hands all the way till campus. The stars watched them with an icy glare. Todd's hand was warm, his fingers... soothing.
"Todd,"
The boy turned, sandy hair whipping about his face. Keith cupped his chin and kissed him slowly, deliberately on the lips. He pulled away too soon, pulled free from Todd's grasp when he wanted to bury his head in that chest again, to melt into Todd's warmth, Todd's comfort, wanted to make a nest there and sleep the pain away... he pulled free and hated it, hated every minute of it. But he was a Space Cadet of the Galaxy Garrison, and so was Todd, and they were supposed to be in their dorms right now, sleeping like babies... as if he hadn't just lost Shiro, as if every memory didn't hurt like hell, as if Shiro had never existed.
"I'll see you at lunch tomorrow?" Todd said with hopeful eyes.
Keith nodded and ran back to his dorm.
. . .
A suitcase lay open on the narrow single bed Pidge had slept in since childhood, it was half empty. Looking around the childishly colored bedroom with luminescent stars stuck to the ceiling, Pidge wondered what else might be taken along, what else could be smuggled in without the Galaxy Garrison noticing?
"Katie,"
Pidge looked up. Mom stood just inside the room, by the door, and she held up a rather large parcel in her left arm.
"It's Pidge," Pidge said, taking the parcel without question and stashing it inside the suitcase. Damn, ...there was still plenty of space, even with the large parcel... what was in it, anyway? Pidge frowned, deciding to investigate this later.
"Oh right, Pidge," Mom said, now standing in the middle of the room, a melancholy smile on her weary face. "If anyone knows what happened to Matt and your Dad,"
Pidge stilled, the sweater wavered in Pidge's hands.
"Professor Montgomery would be authorized access. He's a friend of your Dad's," Mom looked off to the side, her mouth pulled tight. "Has been, for a long time... they went to school together." Then her eyes flashed and she looked her daughter in the eye again. "But I don't want you to contact him. It's too dangerous. You never know whom you can trust," she narrowed her eyes, "he could be involved in covering the whole thing up," she added in a lower voice.
Pidge stared at Mom... she looked so fragile, so broken... a shell of a woman ever since that damned Kerberos Mission had stolen Dad and Matt away from them.
"It's ok Mom, we'll find them." Pidge dropped the sweater inside the suitcase and placed a hand on Mom's arm. Without a moment's hestitation, Pidge was pulled into a warm motherly hug. They stood like that for what felt like hours, but couldn't have been that long. Something nudged Pidge's legs... something wet and cool... Pidge let go of Mom.
"Bae Bae!" Dropping to the knees, Pidge hugged the wagging dog tight, face buried in short fawn fur.
"That's right," Mom said, sitting on the bed and watching them both with fond eyes, "you won't be seeing Gunther for awhile."
"It's Bae Bae," Pidge said, scratching the dog beneath the ears. "Who's a little Bae, you are!"
Bae Bae crooned in satisfaction.
Mom shook her head, still smiling. "Is that a word from that Korean drama I saw you watch last night when you should have been packing?"
Heat pooled in Pidge's cheeks. "No," Pidge lied in a steady voice that didn't change pitch nor amplitude, "I don't know what you're talking about." Pidge shrugged, flushed cheeks cooling down. "I don't watch K-dramas."
"Almost perfect," Mom commented, her expression schooled to that of a teacher, raised index finger and all... Pidge nearly snorted at that, despite feeling mortified at having been found out. "You screwed up when you referred to them as 'K-dramas'," Mom shrugged, her expression cracking, the seonsaeng mask slipping. "I've never heard that term before."
"Well... uhh, it means 'Korean drama'..."
Mom smiled. "Well obviously, but you said it with such confidence, it sounded like you used the term before."
With a sinking head Pidge looked at the floor. This venture was bound to fail, like last time... there was no way to infiltrate the Galaxy Garrison, Pidge knew it. This whole ploy was lost from the start, doomed to fail. But before Pidge could sink into a wallowing spiral of self pity, Mom's hand held Pidge's wrist.
"Promise to contact me every day?"
Pidge nodded, eyes closed, so not to see Mom's tears.
"If you can't call me for whatever reason, send me an encrypted message. I just need to know you're alright."
"Just... Mom?"
"What is it Sweetie?"
"If I disappear suddenly without a trace," Pidge chanced a look at Mom.
Mom's face was white like death. "I'll never stop looking for you."
Pidge smiled, faintly. "And I will call you every day. They may call me a Momma's boy all they like at the Garrison! I don't care." The faint smile turned into a defiantly broad grin. "Let them."
Mom's face warmed up. "I'm glad to hear you say that, because I also have some... less pleasant stuff to discuss with you."
Less pleasant stuff? Pidge frowned. What could be less pleasant than sudden disappearance with no way to contact home? Pidge blinked, watching Mom with a perplexed expression. Was Mom... blushing? Why?
"I know it's a little early to start using birth control, but"
Wait. What? So THAT's what was in the mysterious parcel Pidge had just placed inside the suitcase unwittingly. Ewwww! Pidge covered both ears, blocking out the rest of Mom's speech.
"Pidge? Are you listening?"
Mom's face was bright red. Good. She should suffer too.
"This is important, you need to know this so you don't accidentally harm yourself while using it."
Head shaking, Pidge walked away from Mom's stupid unneccesary sermon. "Nope, don't need to know. Not gonna use it."
Bae Bae followed Pidge out the room, tail wagging. And, after a beat, ...so did Mom.
Pidge groaned.
"Well I just thought you," Mom started, twisting her hands as she spoke, "I just thought you might not want to... have to deal with periods,"
Halfway down the stairs, Pidge came to an abrupt stop. Pidge blinked, then slowly turned to stare up at Mom, who was still very red in the face.
"while you're out there, pretending to be a boy."
Bae Bae barked playfully.
. . .
A wide expanse of land stretched out in front of him: rocks, walls of red stone on either side of flat earth, and sand, sand under his high top sneakers. Keith shifted the satchel on his back, got his field flask out and greedily gulped down cool water that chilled his dry throat. He screwed the cap back on the flask, and hid it under his jacket, right above where his knife was strapped to his hip. He wiped his chapped lips with the back of his gloved hand, and looked out at the desert before his eyes. This was going to be his home now, he better get used to it.
He had never walked so far from the Garrison before... his legs were tired, his foot soles ached from when he'd stepped on that sharp stone two miles back. His escapades with Todd had been... different. They'd never made it beyond the main road and the shady motel just a stone's throw off the road. Despite himself, Keith smiled. Memories flooded his mind, he shut his eyes to the desert sun, and breathed out.
The desk clerk raised a hairy eyebrow at them and the banknotes under Todd's hand on the table... then decisively shook his head. "We don't hustle here. Besides, you boys look far too young."
Keith felt his face heat up. He was about to walk straight out of there, no looking back, when Todd placed another banknote on the table.
The desk clerk frowned. "Where you kids get that much dough?"
Todd glared at him, leaning forward till he was up close in the clerk's wrinkled face. "None of your business."
The clerk folded his hairy arms over his chest, studied them both critically, then his eyes darted down to the money on the table. He smiled. His smile gave Keith the creeps.
"Third door to the left," the man said, swiping his hand at the money. In a flash it was gone, replaced by a stained rusty key. Todd blinked, then carefully took the key between his long fingers. Keith followed Todd down the hall, goosebumps running over his shoulders and down his back... this place was giving him the creeps.
The bed... was not in a much better condition than the rest of the room, not quite what Keith had pictured. Three roaches scattered away when Todd opened the door. The first thing Keith noticed was the large hole in the window, like a brick had been thrown through... the window was pathetically held together by Scotch Tape. There weren't any curtains, and their room was on the ground floor. A broken lamp sat in a corner of the room. Apart from the bed, the room had no furniture... not that they needed any, but still, the lack surprised Keith. He sighed and sank down on the stained bed sheet. Todd nearly gagged when he found someone's orange pubic hairs in the folds of the blanket.
Keith reached out and ran his hand up Todd's thigh. Todd's breath hitched, and he grabbed Keith's hips, squeezing his butt. Keith grinned. The shabby bed didn't matter, what mattered was being here with Todd on their day off from the Garrison. He dipped his head down and planted a feather light kiss to the front of Todd's jeans.
Todd hissed, eyes fluttering closed, mouth half open, he hissed and tossed his head back, making his sandy hair sway sensually in the oddly filtered light coming through the Scotch taped window. Keith dragged the zipper down, slowly, tooth by tooth. Todd's hands slid into his hair, making comforting circling motions before settling under his mane, just over his neck hairs. Keith let his breath ghost over the front of Todd's loose satin boxers. He felt something tickle his crotch, and glanced down to see one of Todd's socked feet toeing his groin.
"Want me to stop?" Keith said uncertainly. He looked up at the sexy face Todd was making, and bit his lip. He really needed to get over this silly habit of biting his lip whenever he felt exposed, it gave him away too easily.
"No, no, keep doing that, please," Todd cooed in a drowsy voice. His big toe slipped off and he planted his little toes on top of Keith's fly. Right there, right where his... ohh... Todd's toes cupped him gently but firmly, just the right kind of pressure. Keith let his mouth fall open, and a throaty moan escape his lips.
"I mean," Keith looked into Todd's eyes questioningly, "do you want to take over?"
Todd blinked, then looked off to the side. "We don't have to..." his words trailed off to a soft whisper.
Keith grinned; he dipped his head down again and blew a hot breath over the front of Todd's boxers, making him shiver. The foot on his crotch jiggled, and Keith inhaled sharply. "What if I want to?" he said, loosening the string that tied Todd's boxers to his hips.
"Keith,"
He loved the way Todd said his name. "Mmm," Keith murmured against Todd's lower belly.
"I'd like to try... you know, having ah," Todd's breath hitched as Keith pushed the boxers off him. "Hah... having real sex."
A smile pulled at Keith's lips. "What isn't real about this?"
He licked Todd's pale circumcised penis. The foot on his groin pressed into him and Keith shuddered, something snapped deep inside, like an electric spark. He was hard. The pants started feeling a little too snug for comfort.
Todd's hands moved out of his hair and onto his shoulders, pushing him off. Keith frowned, his bangs fell into his eyes as he looked his boyfriend in the face.
"You... you know what I mean," Todd panted, cheeks turning pink.
Keith shook his head, prompting Todd to look to the side, avoiding eye contact.
"Hey, hey Todd, what do you mean?" Keith knew his voice sounded more and more desperate by the second. He couldn't help it, he wanted to please his boyfriend, but he... just didn't know how.
"Puh, puh-pennetrative sex?" his boyfriend stuttered, not looking at him.
Oh. The thing they had been avoiding for so long... Keith's chest deflated... he felt so stupid. Of course Todd would want that, and why not? If it hurt they could always stop and go back to what they used to do. Trying hurt no one. Keith gingerly fingered his fly, then crawled off the bed and stood to push his pants down. He kicked out of them, letting his black combat pants fall to the grimy motel room floor.
"I trust you," Keith whispered in a shaky voice, crawling back over the messy sheet, before locking lips with Todd.
He felt hands grasp his ass, and moaned in thanks, weaving his fingers into Todd's straight hair. Todd's tongue explored his mouth, rubbing up against Keith's tongue every now and then. Everything tasted of Eclipse Orange breath mints.
They broke their kiss, panting. Todd leaned in even closer and spoke directly into Keith's ear, voice dropping an octave lower:
"Who said I was doing the penetrating?"
"Huh?" Keith blurted out, sounding way too high pitched for his own liking. "But I... but I want you to... to do me," he muttered against Todd's neck, still holding onto, and stroking the back of his head.
"No fair," Todd whined in a lighter, playful tone. "The uke gets to lie back and feel good, while the seme has to do all the heavy lifting."
Keith's forehead landed on Todd's shoulder as he convulsed in a fit of laughter. "Who taught you those words?"
Todd laughed with him, cupping and kneading Keith's ass through his tighty whities. "I taught myself, before I was born."
"Todd!" tears streamed down his eyes from laughing.
But Todd wasn't here. With a sigh Keith trudged down the small hill he'd been standing on, looking for a spot protected from the wind. Maybe behind those rocks there? Before he knew it his legs started walking in that direction. He'd set up his tent here, and figure out what to do next tomorrow. Man, he was exhausted.
As he knelt to hammer the tent down, he couldn't help his thoughts drifting back to Todd, and their parting words...
"Keith?"
The classroom doors slid open and Keith looked up from the unfinished breadboard. Todd stood in the door frame, in his pajamas.
"You still working on this?"
Keith breathed out and looked off to the side, his gaze rested on the electronics textbook. "We can't all be as smart as you."
He could hear Todd gasp. "That's not what I..." his voice broke, hanging in the stale Garrison air.
Keith stiffened his shoulders. He was about to snap, he didn't want to snap, not here, not right now, not at Todd.
"Keith, it's just a simple assignment. It doesn't even count for the grade."
Footsteps moved closer and Keith steeled himself for the warm comforting hand that came to rest on his shoulder. Again, he heard Todd's soft calming voice, now directly above him.
"It's not worth losing sleep over. You'll get it tomorrow, and you'll ace your exam," Todd tittered the last part, "like you always do."
Keith shook his head. He looked up, his expression sullen. "You don't get it."
Todd's hand fell from his shoulder.
"I have been trying to figure this out for hours! And nothing is working. If I leave this for tomorrow, I'll grow even more behind, and then I'll never catch up to you."
Somewhere in the depths of his consciousness, Keith was mildly aware that his voice got progressively louder with each word he spoke. Somewhere deep inside, he was also aware of the shocked and hurt expression Todd was showing him. Something deep inside Keith wanted to break down and cry, and be held close, enveloped in a warm embrace, and be comforted by those gentle hands.
Keith ignored the nagging voice and smothered it deep within him. All he felt was hate and anger, and hate, hate at Shiro leaving him, hate at the Garrison for lying to him, hate, hate, hate... hate at himself for being so pathetic, for being so weak.
Todd hugged him and Keith threw him off.
Todd fell to the floor and landed hard on his side. He scrambled up, rubbing his ribs. Keith's shoulders went slack, his mouth fell open but made no sound. His anger was all gone, replaced by a dull, numbing pain. And that nagging voice assaulted his head again:
'I told you so, why do you never listen. I told you ssso, you nevver lissennn.'
Todd blinked, a tear formed in the corner of his eye.
"S- sorry," Keith muttered, staring wide eyed at his boyfriend's crying face.
Was 'sorry' enough? It didn't feel like it was... it didn't feel like anything would ever be enough. Fuck, what had he done? That had been the fifth time he'd exploded at Todd in less than a week.
Then Todd said the thing that hurt him the most, the words that pierced right through his heart... leaving an unerasable, permanent stain.
"I love you," Todd whimpered between bouts of sobs, staring into Keith's wide, disbelieving eyes. "I love you," he said again, louder this time. "But I can't keep doing this."
Keith's breath caught in his throat. He had fucked up, he had fucked it all up, he had fucked everything up.
"I'm sorry," Todd sobbed, rubbing his face with his hands, shivering. "I..., I don't think us being together... is doing either of us any good..."
The floor might as well have cracked under Keith's feet.
"I... I love you Keith," his boyfriend let out a ragged breath, "that's why, ...that's why I have to break up with you!"
A beat passed in silence.
"I'm... I'm not making you happy," Todd sobbed, "I'm just making you mad."
That was not true! Keith tried to speak, to refute Todd's words, to say 'I love you' back, but his throat felt dry. All he managed to do was grunt in response.
"I... I think, this is... for the best." Todd clutched his pajama top, drying his hands. "A... a relationship shouldn't... be this hard, ...should it?"
Keith nodded. "I understand." Why did his voice sound so cold to his ears? Why wasn't he crying? He wanted to!
But the tears wouldn't come. The tears wouldn't come to wash his shame away, to wash his guilt away. They didn't come until much later that night, when he was in bed, after having showered and eaten a late leftover dinner... Keith curled in on himself, face under the blanket, as the first tears fell. He didn't deserve a good boyfriend like Todd, he told himself. Todd would be so much happier with someone else.
"Keith?" his roommate uncertainly asked, "...are you crying?"
Keith ignored him. He didn't deserve a boyfriend like Todd, and he sure as hell didn't deserve his roommate's pity.
That happened three months ago. After that Keith completely fell apart, making dumb decision after dumb decision, which eventually led to his expulsion from the Garrison.
Keith shook his head as he lay there on his back, arms crossed under his head in a makeshift pillow, staring up at the slanted fabric walls of his tent. Walls that let light through... He closed his eyes and counted to ten, to one hundred, to one thousand... he opened his eyes again. It was a little darker now, but still he lay wide awake.
Absently he reached for his phone... the screen lit up his face. A tan face with an upturned nose, a mischievous smile and a pair of laughing cobalt eyes looked back at him. Keith rolled his eyes.
"Lance," he huffed.
No reception. Keith groaned, he should have known. At least his phone had enough battery to change from this ridiculous background image. He scrolled through his photos... his finger froze in the air. He set his jaw and said with absolute certainty:
"I will bring you back Shiro, no matter what it takes."
Then he shut off his phone before he ended up wasting more battery power, put it back in his pants which were folded up neatly along the tent's wall, rolled on his side and closed his eyes. He needed sleep, now! Instead, his head filled with images of a certain tanned space cadet who was too good looking for his own good...
Keith waited two beats before sneaking out of his room, careful not to make a sound. He heard footsteps down the hallway and quickly rounded a corner, pressing himself flat against the wall. Slow breaths, in, out, that's it.
"Patience yields focus," he repeated to himself, hearing Shiro's voice instead of his own.
The dimmed night lights were just enough to see by as Keith slipped through a maze of hallways, heading for the nearest fire escape. He bit his lip, remembering Todd teaching him how to disable the alarm set to go off once the emergency exit door opened. Even though they'd both agreed to remain 'friends', they hadn't spoken in two weeks... He shook his head.
"Focus."
He saw the red Exit sign light up ahead. Panting, forehead resting on the cool wall, he got his knife out from under his shirt. Carefully holding the alarm box in one hand, he pressed the tip of his blade into a slot screw and unscrewed the top panel. Phew, he swiped the sweat off his forehead. Now came the hard part: he hoped he remembered right which wires to disconnect... Just then he heard footsteps behind him, incredibly close. His fingers jerked, nearly yanking out a yellow wire.
"You know how to open this door?" a lighthearted voice asked softly.
Keith spun around.
"Whoa!" a boy about his own age raised both hands to protect his face.
Keith realized he was still holding the knife. "What do you want?" Keith sighed, narrowing his eyes at the other boy. He wasn't about to get caught this close to freedom.
The guy lowered his hands, and mimicked his own displeased glare, settling his hands on his hips. "Same thing as you, to get out of here."
Could this asshole just go away? He was making too much noise. An officer on duty was bound to come by here soon.
"Can you keep it down?" Keith hissed, glaring and keeping his knife in the air.
But instead of backing off, the guy stepped in closer and gawped at Keith's knife. He gave a low whistle of appreciation. "Ooh, cool glowy blade! Where d'you get it?" He reached out to touch it with a finger.
Keith pulled his knife back. What a weirdo. "Who are you anyway?"
"What?" the guy shrieked in a higher pitch. "Quit acting like you don't know me."
Keith cocked his head to the side and looked him up and down. The only unusual thing about his appearance were the cyan capris he wore along with the standard orange Cadet jacket. He arched an eyebrow... was he supposed to know him? He couldn't recall anyone like this kid from his current classes. Maybe they'd been in the same group as first years? There had been so many cadets in freshman year, most of whom quit... Keith hardly remembered them all. After he'd been selected for Fighter Class pilot, he didn't have many classes with the Engineers, though he still had to attend the General Engineering classes along with everyone else... not that he paid much attention anyway. He mostly sat in the back and browsed articles about unexplained events on his phone.
"Are you... an Engineer?" Keith asked cautiously, lowering his defences.
The guy looked at him like he'd grown a second head. "No," he said at length, "I'm a Pilot, we were in the same Flight Sim class last year."
Keith frowned, he certainly would have remembered last years' Flight Simulation class. But then why was this guy so hard to place? He scratched the hair behind his ear.
The other guy groaned. "The name Lance ring any bell?"
Oh. Lance... that guy, the fuckup who got a grade zero on a test that was designed to not let anyone fail, Keith remembered him now. The guy's facial expression soured along with Keith's.
"So you do remember me!"
Keith rolled his eyes. He didn't have time for this petty nonsense, he needed to focus on getting that door open without setting off the alarms. Turning his back on Lance, he studied the mesh of wires again. Which wire was it? Keith frowned... red... or blue?
A voice spoke softly just above him, directly into his ear: "I think you should disconnect the red wire first."
Keith jumped, then glared over his shoulder at Lance. "Quit sneaking up on me like that."
"Sorry," Lance raised both hands in a placating gesture and took a step back.
"What do you know about this anyway?" Keith hissed.
Lance shrugged. "It's just a hunch."
"Well your hunch could get both of us expelled."
Lance actually had the audacity to chuckle at that. "Naw, most we'll get is a warning," he winked, "especially if I'm caught with someone who has a perfectly spotless record like you."
Keith didn't bother to correct Lance, he didn't bother to say that his record at the Garrison was far from spotless at this point... "Well I wouldn't want the likes of you to tarnish my perfect record."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
Keith turned back to the alarm box, blocking out Lance completely. He stared at the mesh of wires. Think, what had Todd done last time they snuck out together? He recalled Todd's laughter, the way his hair fell over his face, how hot the Garrison uniform made him look... and cupping his ass with one hand. No, no, no, not about that! Keith forcefully tried to push the unwanted thoughts aside, out of his head.
"Focus," he said to himself, staring at the floor.
"Huh? What?"
Keith stilled, he looked up and saw Lance blink at him.
"Were you... talking to yourself just now?" Lance raised an eyebrow. "You were, right?"
Keith glared at him.
Lance rolled his eyes. "Just cut the red wire already and be done with it, Jeez. Why waste time panicking, we could be outside by now."
"Nobody is cutting any wires. Clearly you don't know anything about this. This isn't the movies, we aren't burglars sneaking inside someone's apartment, we live here!"
"Jeez Keith, keep it down, an officer on duty could come by any minute."
"Shut up."
Before Keith could react, a tan hand reached over his shoulder and yanked the green wire out of its socket. Keith held his breath, Lance's hand shuddered, fingers clenching awkwardly around the wire.
Nothing happened. Keith sighed in relief, and so did Lance: a cool breath fanned Keith's neck. The LED light on the alarm box went dark without a sound. Keith reached out and pushed the door open.
Nothing happened. They slipped out into the welcoming cool of the night. Keith sat down on the low stone wall surrounding the Garrison yard. He let his hands trail over the lawn, blades of grass tickled his palms. Up in the cloudless black sky the stars twinkled down at them, beautiful, distant, mocking...
"I feel bad leaving you out here like this..."
What? Keith tore his gaze off the stars and frowned at Lance.
Lance looked mildly annoyed, his lips were pursed, hands buried in the pockets of his capri pants. He paused on the walkway to the visitor parking lot. "Come with me."
Keith felt his own eyes widen a fraction. "Why?"
"You'll get caught if you loiter about the Garrison grounds."
"I won't get caught!" Keith's hands knotted in the grass, "I've done it like a bazillion times!"
"Whatever, I was just being polite." Lance folded his arms across his chest. "Not like I want you around."
"Oh yeah, that's very polite," Keith grinned.
Lance's face scrunched up comically.
Keith snorted.
"Jerk!" Lance turned on his heel and stormed off to the parking lot.
Keith watched him go. Then, looking around to make sure they hadn't been spotted, he followed. He stopped at the edge of the parking lot. Lance was bent over a pale blue scooter, fiddling with the trunk box.
"Are you stealing that moped?"
"What?" Lance whipped his head up. "No! It's mine."
Scratching his head at where Lance crouched close by the ground, Keith approached him.
"Wear this." Lance tossed a light blue helmet in the air, which Keith caught in both hands.
Reluctantly Keith put the helmet on his head. From the corner of his eye he saw Lance dust off a black helmet and do the same.
Lance sat down and gripped the handles. Looking sideways he raised an eyebrow at Keith. "Hurry up. I don't have all night."
Keith shook himself out of his daze, and threw one leg over the bike. He sat down behind Lance, gripping the seat beneath him with both hands, fingers clenched tight in the fake leather lining.
"Hold on tight," Lance snickered.
Keith huffed. "Really," he sneered back, "how fast does this thing go?"
"Faster than your ass when it's on fire."
What? But before he could verbalize that in a smart quip of his own, the scooter lurched forward. Keith gasped as he was thrown back, nearly falling off the bike. He grabbed the air for something to hold on to, desperately digging his knees into the vehicle's sides. Wind pushed his hair into his eyes under the helmet's visor.
He grabbed for anything and finally his fingers connected with something soft and solid. Keith clawed his nails in, clutching the material, and pulled himself upright. Phew, that was close. Letting go with one hand he reached up under his helmet's visor and swept his bangs out of his eyes. There, that was better. He put his hand back where it had been, and held on tight as Lance wheeled the moped into another steep turn. Wait... Keith blinked, staring at the matter his arms were currently encircling.
Fuck me! Why were the Gods so cruel? Keith glared daggers at Lance's back, because now he definitely had his arms around Lance's waist.
Lance gave a shrill whoop as he sped round the bend. Keith rolled his eyes, asshole, he couldn't wait to get off this fucking scooter.
Keith's legs were a little shaky when he finally did get off. He wobbled around the parking lot in a daze, took off his helmet, wiped the sweat from his face, patted his hair down till it stopped sticking up at odd angles. He barely noticed Lance take off his Cadet jacket, but when he did, he stared. Keith pinched his nose, raised an eyebrow, and gestured in Lance's general area.
"What are you wearing?"
Lance gave him a shrug. "What? Never seen a camiso campesino before?"
Keith cringed. "No." And he hadn't ever wanted to see one either, not on Lance. That thing that passed for a shirt showed way too much skin. He tried to avert his eyes from Lance's lean supple looking pecs... good thing the nipples were covered, he didn't want that image burned to his memory, no thanks.
"After you," Lance swept his arms toward a filthy looking backdoor that looked out on the deserted parking lot.
Keith walked through the door. It was hotter inside, and harder to breathe, a weird kind of smoke hung in the air. Keith tugged at his jacket's zipper. They walked through a series of dark hallways before they came to the main room. It was a big hall, filled with music, people were dancing. The guy behind the bar flexed his wrists and let the bottles spin in his hands before pouring drinks. Right away, Keith saw he was overdressed to this event.
"Umm, can I dump my jacket anywhere?"
"Coat check's right down the first hallway."
"Thanks."
It felt good to be on his own for a while. Keith weaved his way through the crowd, feeling the tension lift. His mind drifted along with the song's melody, which was oddly soothing. It was a Rock song after all, an eighties Rock song at that. The weird woman at the coat check wanted a dollar and checked him out when he took off his jacket. Keith felt naked in his tight black tee... did she know he carried a knife under his shirt? Could she see it? Why hadn't he worn something else tonight, something that wasn't so tight, literally anything else?
He cringe-smiled at the woman behind the desk and hurried back to the main hall. It wasn't hard to find Lance: the guy was dancing in the middle of the room, front and center. Keith rolled his eyes. Wearily he trudged up the dance floor, mingling with the moving bodies around him. Keith wasn't much of a dancer, he knew a few moves, but that was about it. The last thing he needed was embarrassing himself here, on a night he'd planned to get some time alone. The disco lights moved, making the blue patterns on Lance's white shirt shimmer gaily.
Keith kept his distance, he stayed close by the wall and moved a little to the music: tapping his feet and shifting his shoulders in what he hoped passed for 'dance moves' with this crowd. He started feeling a little self conscious when he noticed the people sitting on bar stools around the shaded edges of the dance floor. Most of them were significantly older, and, none of them were even dancing, yet their eyes were glued to the dancers. Were they here just to watch? How creepy. If they were being stared at, Lance didn't seem to know or... care, he flounced about in his navy plimsolls, showing off his bare calves. Before Keith knew what he was doing, he danced toward the room's center, his feet taking him to where Lance moved fluidly to the melody. A slower song came on. Keith looked about him, quick, as the swell of dancers started to clear. What should he do? How was he supposed to move to such a song? Keith tried copying the moves he saw around him without being too obvious about it. A girl raised her arms in the air and moved them in a complicated spiral form. Keith tried to mimic...
He felt stupid.
The guy closest to him performed a quick set of recurring steps with his feet, twisting his foot skillfully at the ankle, clacking his white leather dance shoes on the floor. Keith tried doing that, but it looked different in high tops...
He gave up, he was already sweating buckets under his shirt, especially at the place where his knife was tucked in his pants, cotton wrapped blade pressing uneasily into his lower abdomen. He settled on rocking his shoulders for now. His eyes trailed over the dance floor, over the lights, the outfits, the pairs sashaying in a quiet corner of the room. And finally, his gaze rested on... Lance.
Keith froze. No, no way.
Lance swayed his hips to the music, rolling his pelvis in smooth thrusting motions... it was almost scandalous to look at, almost illegal to see. Keith glowered at a few women sitting in a corner of the room: they were staring, and... giggling, eyes locked on Lance's lower abdomen as his shirt hitched up while he moved. That was so wrong! Those women were clearly over eighteen, what were they doing, lusting over a minor like that? And Lance was... encouraging it? Keith's jaw dropped as he watched Lance give a slow seductive wink to those women, along with a sly lecherous smile.
The predatory way those women kept eyeing Lance was NOT normal. They weren't watching him the way you would behold a man... they gawked at him like he was a hunk of meat on display.
Keith shuddered. He weaved his way through the dancers until he was dancing beside Lance. Keith bit his lip, it wasn't really his place to say anything, it's not like they were friends... but he couldn't stand the sick way those perverted women were ogling him. If their roles had been reversed, he'd want Lance to do the same for him.
Lance's eyes widened a fraction when Keith stepped up close, but he kept on dancing, not pausing for a second.
Keith worried his lower lip with his front teeth, then leaned in and urgently whispered into Lance's ear:
"Let's get out of here."
Lance blinked, then he smiled. Asshole had the nerve to fucking smile at him! Keith was being serious, he was trying to look out for him, and this... this asshole was treating him like a joke.
"What?" Lance shouted gaily over the music. The smile spread across his face and now he was fucking grinning ear to ear. "But the fun's just getting started."
Keith's face contorted in anger.
A hand came to rest on Keith's hip, ...Lance's hand.
Keith blinked. He was being pulled in close, even closer, till their shoulders brushed. Keith tilted his head to the left, putting some respectable distance between them.
"What are you doing?" he hissed through gritted teeth.
Lance smirked at him. "The girls are into it," he said in a deep tone, then looked sideways. "See? It gets them going."
Keith quirked an eyebrow, he followed Lance's gaze with his eyes. Sure enough, in the dimmed part of the room, four girls had stopped what they'd been doing and were watching him... watching them dance. Keith froze.
"Hey now," Lance drawled into his ear, "don't stop dancing, come on."
The hand on his hip pushed him away then pulled him back in again. Before he knew what he was doing, before he could piece together all events leading up to this, he was dancing... with Lance. A second hand settled on his hips. Keith put on a vexed frown and decidedly looked away from his dance partner.
Another slow song came on... this one even slower than the last. More dancers drooped off, until only pairs remained on the dance floor, along with one eccentrically dressed woman who danced alone, shaking her hips wildly. Keith bit his lip. Apart from him and Lance, no one else danced in the center of the room.
"Doesn't this feel... awkward?" Keith glanced sideways at Lance.
Lance blinked, then gave a small skewed smile. "It does feel a little awkward," he drawled in that same confident, deep tone which had surprised Keith earlier. Lance shrugged. "But I guess it can't be helped that you suck at dancing."
"What?" Keith's nostrils flared. "I don't suck at dancing."
Lance snickered. "Yeah you do."
Keith felt his face heat up, he was one step away from swinging his arm and landing one clean roundhouse punch on Lance's jaw.
"But it's kinda cute," Lance went on.
Keith's right hand clenched into a fist. He was not cute.
"In a good way," Lance added as an afterthought.
Keith's anger deflated... his clenched fingers loosened. For a moment Lance looked at him in a searching way. Keith bit his lip again... what? What did Lance want from him?
"Why don't you put your hands on my shoulders," Lance said. It wasn't a question. It didn't sound like one... he hadn't voiced it like a question. His voice remained steady when he said it, without inflecting up at the end.
Keith grabbed Lance's shoulders, making him gasp and jerk forward. He left his fingers there, keeping Lance in a firm hold.
Lance frowned, looking off to the side. "You don't do anything halfway, do you," he muttered. That didn't sound like a question either.
"You're one to talk," Keith grunted sourly.
He stiffened when he felt two warm wet lips encircle his ear helix. Then something pressed down, and up, squeezing his ear from both sides... teeth. Lance was biting him, nibbling on his right ear.
Keith felt his face warm, but for a whole different reason. Even before Todd broke up with him, they hadn't been intimate in weeks. His stomach dropped as though he were in zero gravity. He hadn't been touched like this in months. Was it... was it really okay... for him to feel this way, so soon after their break up? Keith bit his lip hard. Then again, they say the best way to get over someone, is to get under someone else.
The hands tightened on his hips as Keith closed his eyes and lost himself in the music, in the rhythm, the low beat of the song, the sweet smoke that hung in the air, coating his throat. He let his hips make gentle thrusting motions, and pushed his chest into Lance's.
"Lance!" a girl's voice called out over the music.
Quick as lightning, Lance let him go. And just like that Keith was humping the air, alone on the dance floor. He watched Lance walk over to a pair of girls, and envelop the shorter one in a bear hug. The taller one, who was close to Keith in height, checked Lance out, letting her pencil lined eyes trail over his outfit, and nodded in appreciation.
Keith felt dumb just dancing there on his own, amid all those couples, so he followed soon after, hot on Lance's trail.
"You made it," the taller girl said, her hand on Lance's upper arm. He hugged her too, then leaned back and whistled, eyes zeroing in on her black crop top.
Keith rolled his eyes. He hadn't quite reached them yet, and now a faster song started, sending a wave of fresh dancers onto the floor. People pushed their way between him and Lance, he could barely see him between strangers' shoulders. Keith waded through a sea of gyrating limbs.
"We didn't know if you'd come," the girl in the black crop top said, offering Lance her drink.
He took a long draught of the orange liquid, then wiped his lips with the back of his hand. The shorter girl wore a light pink cocktail dress with ruffles, and tightly held two purses in her hands: a white one and a black one. Both girls were bottle blondes.
Lance grinned at them, flashing his pearly whites. "I always come."
Oh he did not just... Keith froze seven feet away and gaped at the group. What the fuck? The girls giggled... fucking giggled. What sort of place was this? Were they hookers?
"Lancey Lance," the girl in the pink cocktail dress whined in obviously fake distress, pushing her high ponytails into his arm.
Keith curled his lip in disgust. That... that nickname, he didn't want to think about it.
Her eyes trailed over the orgy on the dance floor, and settled on Keith.
A cold shudder crawled over Keith's spine. The hooker was watching him.
Her lips brushed faintly against Lance's arm, leaving a glossy pink stain on his white shirt. She batted her fake eyelashes without taking her eyes off Keith, and whined in that same sing-song voice:
"Who's the new guy?"
She tugged on Lance's arm when he did not respond, too busy eye-fucking the other girl. After a while of persistent tugging, Lance finally turned his attention to her. She batted her eyes again, this time at Lance, and pulled a duck face.
She nudged his arm with one of her pony tails, "introduce me to your cute Asian friend," before moving her eyes back to Keith.
What, the, FUCK.
Lance quickly glanced at him, then turned back to the girl on his arm and showed her a pouty 'hurt' expression. "Anna, you wound me. Am I not enough for you?"
The girl in the pink dress, Anna, batted her lashes innocently up at Lance. "Well... umm no, but..."
"Can't you see Anna? Lance worries we'll steal his boyfriend," the other girl teased.
A choked snort rippled from Anna's throat, Lance laughed it off good-naturedly. Keith stared at him, not sure what to think.
"Keith was my classmate last year," Lance said boldly, "we go to school together."
He winked and waved Keith over. After a moment's hesitation, Keith joined up with the group. He placed himself between Anna and that other girl whose name he didn't know..., facing Lance. He noted that Lance hadn't mentioned the Galaxy Garrison, or that they were Space Cadets... he had only vaguely referred to the Garrison as 'school'... which Keith supposed was accurate, but also meant Lance wasn't very close with these girls, which sort of confirmed his earlier suspicion: these girls were hookers.
Keith shivered when Anna's hand landed on his bare left arm. He couldn't stop thinking of all the places her hand had been... Last thing he needed was catching an STD! Those couldn't be transmitted through skin-to-skin contact, could they?
Anna giggled up at him. "Aww Keith," she crooned, "you're so sweet." She cocked her head to the side and puckered her glossy lips. "Do you have a girlfriend?"
"Yes," Keith gritted out through clenched teeth, glaring at Lance. "Yes I have a girlfriend."
"I can totally see it," Anna sighed, tracing soft circles into Keith's biceps that made the hair on his arm stand up. "You look good," she added in a lower tone, "real strong and handsome."
What the fuck was her problem? Keith stared at the hooker. Why wouldn't she let go of his arm? What, did he have to pay her or something?
"Hey!" Lance shouted. "What about me?"
Anna chuckled. "You're handsome too Lancey Lance!"
An odd look of... satisfaction filled Lance's face. Why did that make him so happy? He was paying these hookers to hang out with him... it's not like they meant a word they said...
"I'm Carmen," the tall girl in the black crop top said. She didn't reach out to touch Keith, but sent him a smoldering smile.
Keith turned his head and looked at her. Carmen was fairly tall for a girl. Now they stood side by side, Keith saw she had an inch on him, and she wasn't wearing heels. To be polite, he forced a clipped smile on his lips.
"Nice to meet you." Even though it wasn't, definitely wasn't nice.
Carmen continued talking as if she hadn't noticed the edge in Keith's voice. "This your first night out clubbing?"
"Yeah?" Keith said uncertainly, looking the hooker up and down... wasn't that obvious? Was she just asking this to fill the time with pointless small talk?
"Anna and I didn't even know about this place before Lance messaged me online. It's my second time here."
Oh, Craigslist hookers. That explained a lot, but that damned Anna still wouldn't let go of his arm. She held his arm in a clinch hold, her slender arms wound tight around him like a deadly viper.
Carmen set her empty glass down on the counter. "So you have a Tinder?" she said without missing a beat.
Keith quirked an eyebrow and Lance burst out laughing.
"It's a dating app," Anna explained sweetly, she let go of his arm and dug inside the white purse, pulling out a pink cased phone. "See? This is my profile page."
A glittery silver background lit up the screen, Keith squinted his eyes to read her bio.
"Do you... do you like my profile picture?" Anna asked shyly.
Keith looked at her. She was blushing!
"Do... do you think it looks good?"
Keith glanced back at the screen. Anna's hair was loose in her profile picture, tousled from sleep, and she wore a lot less make-up. He frowned, his mouth fell open... her bio said she was sixteen. He looked at her again, quickly. Yes, yes... this girl was sixteen, he saw it now, without a doubt, he nodded absently to himself.
"Awww thankies!" the girl squealed, squeezing her eyes shut. "I wasn't sure it was a good pic to post online, cos of the bedhead and all," she gushed. "Wouldn't want to look like a slut."
Keith blinked, wait what? These girls weren't hookers? They had come here willingly? What the actual fuck.
Anna made a face as sweet as cream. "But then Lance said I definitely should post it because it makes me look adorable. He said lots of guys would love it, so I did, and I'm super happy you like it Keith," she chirped out the last bit, rubbing her ballerina flats over the floor.
These girls had come here to get fucked. To get fucked by Lance.
Keith glared at Lance, he had never liked the guy, mostly for being a fuckup who couldn't even make decent grades at the Garrison and tortured everyone with his incessant attention seeking. But now he was... seducing younger girls? What the fuck. What was wrong with him?
Lance leaned back, resting his elbows on the bar. "You people want any drinks?"
"I'll have a Cherry Coke," said Carmen.
"Root Beer for me!" Anna hopped onto a bar stool, flashing her undies as her cocktail dress rode up with the movement.
"I'll be using the restroom," Keith said tersely, "don't trouble yourself on my account."
Then he left. He couldn't stand being there any longer, not with what he now knew. Keith stomped to the toilets, taking long forceful strides. With a sigh he rested his forehead against the cool bathroom mirror. Violet eyes stared back at him...
This was so confusing. All he wanted was to be alone with the stars, alone with the night sky. All he wanted, all he needed was a moment's peace, a moment's respite from the pain that ripped him up on the inside. He just wanted to be alone, he just needed time, time to heal. Then this asshole came along and dragged him out to God knows where, and now he was wrapped up in this... this mess. Keith passed a hand through his hair. He pursed his lips and studied his reflection in the mirror: he counted five pimples, the bags under his eyes had a faint purple hue, and his bangs had grown out.
He hadn't had his hair cut since Shiro disappeared, he realized with a shock. How long had it been? ...eight months already. Keith closed his eyes and let out a heavy breath. Time moved on, but for some reason, he couldn't.
Something slammed into the restroom door from the outside. Keith looked up, startled by the sound. He heard a girl's high pitched giggle behind the door... then the handle shifted, Keith jerked upright, and before he knew it the door busted open and a kissing couple stumbled in the men's room.
Keith froze and stared at them. The couple didn't even seem to notice him or his staring, they went on making out heavily, clutching each other's clothes. The girl had long messy sea green hair, pooling around her shoulders in waves. A sweet breathy moan escaped her lips, coupled by a grunt from the dude. She raked her pastel blue nails through the guy's brown hair as he pushed her back first against a bathroom stall. She scratched her hand up his white shirt, exposing his tanned and slender lower back.
Wait a second, was that...
"Lance?"
The name was on his lips and out his mouth before Keith could think better of it. The guy whipped his head up, looked over his shoulder.
Keith swallowed thickly. It was Lance, eyes half lidded, gaze unfocused, clouded over by lust, a fading flush on his cheeks.
The girl recovered faster. She looked from Lance to Keith, from Keith to Lance. A frown settled on her penciled midnight blue brows.
"Hold on," she said, "is this a threesome thing?"
Keith's mouth fell open. Before he could say anything, the girl continued talking.
"Because I'm not into those." She let Lance go and squeezed out of his grasp.
"Janet... no wait," Lance reached out to her.
But she was already gone. Lance turned a livid face on Keith, fists clenching at his sides.
"Thank you Keith."
He didn't sound very thankful. His white peasant shirt was roughed up and his nipples showed. Keith pointedly avoided looking at his chest.
"Who's Janet?" he said, folding his arms and leaning his bum on a sink.
Lance shrugged. "I don't know." He sauntered over to another sink and fixed his shirt in the mirror. "Just met her at the club."
"Oh is that what you do?" Keith rounded on him, thankful Lance's shirt was back on properly. "Different girl every night?"
Lance blinked at his own reflection in the mirror. "What about it?"
"And you," Keith cringed and made a wild gesture with his arms, "have sex with them in one of these stalls and then never talk to them again?"
Lance lifted and dropped one shoulder casually. "Well yeah."
"I knew it."
"What?" Lance turned fully and looked at him.
"I always knew you were a fuckboy!"
A cruel smirk grew on Lance's lips. Keith's glare got hotter with newfound rage.
"Well excuse me, Mr. Asexual Serious, some of us have sex drives." Lance tipped his chin up. "I know it can be confusing, especially if your parents haven't told you about the birds and the bees, but girls have sex drives too."
"My parents are dead."
Lance's eyes went wide, his mouth fell open in a silent 'o'. Keith was long accustomed to that expression people always made whenever he brought it up. Setting his jaw, he looked away. He didn't need anyone's pity, his Dad had been a hero, he was proud of him.
"My Dad died in Afghanistan," Keith continued, looking at the floor, "my Mom left shortly after I was born. When my Dad died, the authorities reached out to my Mom, ...but they never heard back from her," he narrowed his eyes slightly, doing his best to ignore the clenching pain in his chest. "She wouldn't ignore it if she was alive... right?"
Lance didn't say anything. It felt like the air between them had changed, something had shifted, making everything feel heavy and a lot less comfortable. Keith wanted to restore that, to push their talk back to something simple, something easier to deal with.
He shrugged, a wry smile came to his lips. "I was a 'Bottle Baby', that's why I'm so short."
Lance only stared at him. Keith blinked, the smile fell from his face.
"I'm sorry," Lance said at last. "I didn't know..."
"It's fine. There's lots of stuff we don't know about each other." Keith puckered his lips, looking sideways at Lance. "Like... what's your favorite color?"
He regretted asking the moment the words left his mouth.
Lance gave him an odd look. "Favorite color? ...don't think I have one."
"Oh," was all Keith could say in response. A long silence stretched after that. Some random dude came in to use a urinal. Lance stepped aside so he could wash his hands. The guy left. The silence between them stretched.
Keith bit his lip. "Mine's red."
Lance looked at him, blinking in confusion.
"My favorite color, it's red."
Lance smirked. Keith frowned, what the hell was so amusing? Almost as if he could read his mind, Lance answered:
"You always do that when you're flustered," he touched his lower lip with his index finger, "bite your lip."
"I do not!"
"Okay, okay," Lance snickered, "that's a sore spot, okay I won't push it." His last words dissolved in a fit of laughter.
"Asshole," Keith muttered under his breath.
"What was that?" Lance teased.
Keith shut his eyes. "Nothing, nevermind." He opened his eyes to see the last of Lance's chuckles fade to a smile.
Keith frowned, he took Lance in, everything from the navy colored plimsoll shoes to the cyan capri pants to the plaited leather bracelets carelessly fixed to his wrists, to the white peasant shirt with blue patterns that left very little to the imagination... He hated to admit it, but Lance looked good, and it was plainly obvious Lance was aware of this.
Lance looked back curiously.
"Why don't you," Keith started, not sure how to put this. "Why don't you just get a girlfriend to satisfy those..." Keith looked away, suddenly uncomfortable. "You know, ...urges you mentioned before."
Fuck this was awkward. Keith put on his bravest face and pushed on.
"It's not like the Garrison has an all-male policy..."
There. He had said it. Keith swallowed his fear down, gripping the sink tightly with both hands. Lance heaved a labored sigh. Keith held his breath.
"Relationshits are too much trouble to deal with," Lance said with a scowl.
Well that didn't tell him if Lance was into guys or not, but he sure had a point.
"Yeah," Keith said, thinking of Todd. "Yeah... I know what you mean..."
Lance smirked. "Your girl giving you trouble?"
Keith frowned. "Whu...? What girl?"
"Didn't you say you had a girlfriend?"
Keith blinked in confusion.
"To Anna? One hour ago?" Lance hunched his shoulders and cocked his head. "I could've sworn you said you had a girl."
Oh fuck, that's right, he had. But that was before Keith knew who she was, back when he'd thought she was a hooker...oh Fuck. He couldn't talk his way out of this one, could he? With miserable eyes he looked up at Lance.
"I... lied."
Lance blinked.
Keith looked down at his red and white high top sneakers.
"I didn't wan't her touching me," he bit his lip in frustration, "so I lied about having a girlfriend in the hope she'd let go."
Lance burst out laughing.
Keith stilled, frozen in shock. His pain, his very real fear and frustration was... was funny to Lance?
Lance wiped his eyes, still smiling. "Telling Anna you're dating someone has got to be the dumbest way to get her to leave you be. If anything, it'll only make her want you more."
Was this asshole mocking him?
Keith put his hands on his hips and puffed his chest up. There was no way he was taking this shit from Garrison fuckup Lance.
"I don't like her, okay?" Keith yelled at Lance's stupid smiling fuckboy face. "What's her deal suddenly latching onto me like that? She didn't even ask me if I wanted her to touch me, she just grabbed my arm and all of you expected me to be happy."
Lance's eyes went impossibly wide as he took in all this new info. Keith was aware he was rambling, was aware he was ranting, and that his voice ranged far beyond any audio level that could even remotely be considered polite in any way shape or form, but he just didn't fucking care, okay?
"If our roles were reversed," Keith went on, taking a furious step toward Lance, "if I was the girl, that'd be considered sexual harassment!" he pressed his index finger into Lance's bare chest.
Lance stared at him in shock, then leveled a steely glare in return. "Jeez, what's your deal?"
"My... my deal? What's your deal?" Keith roared back, no longer giving a fuck.
"Oh I'm sorry for taking pity on you and inviting you along to have a good time! I should've just left you at the Garrison and let you get caught and expelled."
"I never asked you to take pity on me!"
"Well I did!"
They faced off, in each other's faces, chests puffed up and nearly touching. Lance brought his face down and Keith pushed himself up so there was barely an inch left between the tips of their noses. The tension was so thick it could be cut with a knife.
Lance's face crumpled in anger. "No matter what I do, you're always finding creative new ways to one-up me, and doing everything you can to make me feel bad about myself! We know you're the best fighter Keith, we know you're the best pilot, we know you're the fucking best, okay! You don't have to rub it in anyone's face. Why do you have to be such a dick?"
What... the crock... of shit? Keith's hands balled to fists, he could feel the dagger dig into his stomach underneath his shirt, and for once he felt like using it. If only... if only it would shut up that asshole Lance McClain.
"Oh you think it's easy? You think everything comes on a fucking silver platter and I don't have to work for it, do you? Wake up McClain, we aren't living in Candy Land. If you want to be better than me that bad, quit whining and do something about it."
"Everyone is working just as hard! You don't have to be mean about it," Lance crossed his arms over his chest, pouting. "Since you're that far ahead of everyone else, you could've tried helping out the ones you saw struggling, or, I don't know, skipped a year so you wouldn't have to be weighed down by losers like me. But of course you don't care how everyone else does, do you? You only care about yourself!"
The last words echoed in Keith's mind, striking a chord in him, deep inside. He felt hollow inside, helpless... like a drowning man, all alone. He didn't have any defense against these words, because they were true, all true... he did only care for himself... he bit his lip hard and the words broke tersely from his chapped lips, hot with angry tears that slid down his cheeks unnoticed.
"What else am I supposed to do? Everyone's judging me, you're all sitting around waiting for the day I fall! All you want is for me to slip up, to fail, lose it. You're all marking your calendar, counting down the days till I finally crack. Well I'm this close to cracking, Lance, this close." Keith frantically gestured with his hands. "I've had it up to here. I'm done with this, all of it. If this is what it takes to be a space explorer, then it's not worth it, I quit!" he spat into Lance's horrified face. Then, a moment later, with the tears streaming down his face, Keith muttered: "...everything is shit since Shiro's gone."
Lance caught that last bit. "Wait, you mean Takashi Shirogane?" His voice sounded a lot softer now, like it had when they met this night in the Garrison hallway.
Keith looked up. Lance's blue eyes were wide, soft and... forgiving? Keith quirked an eyebrow, but nodded: yes, he'd meant Shiro. Takashi Shirogane. He just hadn't meant for Lance to hear it.
The guy instantly went starry eyed.
Keith gawked at him. What? What did he want?
"The guy is my hero," Lance crooned with half lidded eyes. "When I graduate the Garrison, I can only hope to be half as good as him." Lance clasped his hands in front of his chest.
Keith groaned. Everyone and their brother said they looked up to Shiro, then in the same breath they blamed him for the Kerberos Mission failure. Some fanboys they were.
Understanding dawned on Lance's face. "Shirogane... was your friend?"
It took a few seconds to register that Lance hadn't blamed Shiro, he hadn't brought the Kerberos Mission up at all... Keith bit his lip, he dipped his head, sighing "Yeah..."
"Fuck, Keith."
Keith looked up.
The other guy's brows all but reached his hairline. "I'm sorry!"
"It's not like it's your fault." Keith shrugged, staring at the stained bathroom tiles behind Lance. "You don't have to feel sorry about it."
"Yeah but, I kind of do."
Lance didn't say anything about the fact Keith had cried... or that dried tear stains still covered most of his face. Keith was thankful to him for that. He leaned over a sink and washed his face.
"Want a hug?" Lance said in a quiet voice.
Maybe Keith had rejoiced too soon. He went rigid under the water spray, the cool substance slashing off his forehead and drenching his hair.
"Shut up!"
"I'm not saying it sarcastically. Just... if you want to... you know, I'm here..."
"I don't want to fucking hug you in the men's room, McClain."
Well truth be told, he did, but Lance was a tease, and Keith wasn't about to give him any more ammunition.
"Oh! Eh yeah... sorry, sure thing. Understood."
"I've been meaning to ask you," Keith said as he pulled his T shirt out of his pants to wipe his face with. His stomach and his knife were now exposed, but Lance had already seen the dagger so that wasn't an issue, and Keith didn't mind showing his toned underbelly in private, no, he didn't mind it one bit.
"Hmm?"
Keith grinned: Lance's eyes were locked on his bare abdomen. He tucked his shirt back in his pants. Two could play at this game. As if on cue, Lance looked away. Keith chuckled. Lance frowned at him.
Smiling while keeping eye contact, Keith asked, "What's this strangely sweet smell hanging in the air?"
"There's a smell in the air?" Lance lifted his head and sniffed.
"Yeah, it's kinda nice."
"Oh, that must be from all the weed they're smoking in the back rooms."
Keith's jaw dropped. What the hell. He'd been inhaling... all this time? He stared in horror at Lance.
"Where the hell did you take me McClain?"
Lance nearly fell over himself laughing. He clutched his stomach with both hands. "Do you wanna head back?"
"Yeah," Keith said, suddenly not in the mood. This was too much stupid for one night. He blamed it all on the drugs, all these weird fuzzy feelings for Lance that kept buzzing through his head tonight. They weren't his own, no, it was all the hemp's doing.
On their way to the coat check through dark hallways, Lance tried to bother him with shitty smalltalk.
"Anna is totally thirsty for you man, so if you ever wanna tap that, let me know. I've got her number." Lance grinned, flashing his teeth: they caught the glare from a stray disco light, and flashed in the dark.
Keith's heart went into overdrive. He had to get out of here.
"No thanks," he growled under his breath. "You can have her."
"Aww Keithy boy, no need to get jealous." Lance winked, wiggling his eyebrows. "I can share."
"Don't call me that ever again."
Lance snorted a laugh.
"And thanks but no thanks, I genuinely dislike that girl."
Lance blinked, pouting. "But why?" he whined. "She called you cute."
"Yeah, I heard."
"So why'd you hate her that much?"
Keith stopped mid-walk. "She's fucking insensitive. Where does she get off assuming my ethnicity like that? I'm not even Asian!"
Pausing in his tracks, Lance studied him for a long minute. Keith gulped, it felt weird being stared at like this, like he really mattered to Lance. "You look Asian," Lance finally said.
Keith flailed his arms in an exasperated motion. "Well I'm not."
Lance shrugged. "You look like you could be Asian."
They walked on in silence. The woman at the coat check wanted another dollar before Keith got his jacket back, he put it on quickly. He felt safer with it on. Once they were outside, Keith zipped up his jacket.
Lance handed him the light blue helmet. "You better sit up front."
Keith buckled the helmet under his chin. "Oh. Why?"
"That way you won't fall off," Lance smirked and placed the black helmet on his head.
"I didn't fall off on the way here!" Asshole.
"Trust me, it'll make it a lot easier."
"Can you even steer this thing from the back?" Keith kicked against the front wheel.
With a grin Lance pushed his visor down and climbed onto the rear seat. "Sure, no sweat." He tapped the empty spot in front of him. "Waiting for you, Keithy boy."
Keith wanted to smack him. Instead, he crossed his arms and parked his ass down on the scooter's seat, as far away from Lance as he could get. Muffled laughter came from somewhere close behind, then Lance's hands shot out on both sides of him, grabbing the controls. Keith pushed his visor down and they sped off into the night.
He ended up falling asleep on the way back. He woke to insistent whispering near his ear.
"Keith, wake up, we're here."
Keith stirred. He lifted his head from Lance's chest. "How long was I out for?"
"Not long. You should get some sleep back in your dorm." Lance smiled softly as he took off his helmet. "You're so lucky we have tomorrow off. Imagine going to class in two hours."
Keith gaped at his new friend. "We were out that long?"
"Yeah," Lance chuckled. "I don't even stay out that long normally."
A careful smile formed on Keith's lips. They both made it back to their rooms safely. Lance surprised him next morning by taking the seat right beside him at breakfast. Thankfully Lance was dressed normally in a plain light blue T shirt and jeans.
"You have a cell phone, right?" Lance said through a mouthful of cornflakes.
Keith cringed, trying to ignore the droplets of milk that sprayed liberally from Lance's open mouth.
"Yeah?" he said in a steely tone. Where was this going?
"Give it to me." Lance held out a hand.
Biscuits and gravy forgotten, Keith turned to look Lance full in the face. "No." Was this guy insane?
Lance rolled his eyes. "Dummy, not forever, just for the moment. I'll give it back to you," he crossed himself, "I swear."
Keith frowned, dug into his pants pocket, and slid his phone over the table. He caught sight of Todd sitting at another table across the cafeteria. Todd looked back at him, then, with sadness in his eyes, looked away.
Keith woke to the screeching of eagles, and sat up straight, knocking his head against the ceiling of his tent. A scorpion crawled over his folded clothes. Keith ignored it, slithered out his sleeping bag, checked his sneakers, shoved his sockless feet inside, opened the flap, crawled out of his tent, stood and arched his back, looking out over the desert plains. A yawn escaped his throat. A wide expanse of red, dead earth stretched out in all directions, as far as the eye could see. He watched the scorpion scurry away.
In the following weeks he gathered scrap metal and wood, and built a basic shack to keep him cool during the day and warm in the cold desert night. He didn't know what to do about the scorpions that kept creeping in, looking for shelter.
After a few days of camping out there Keith started exploring the area around his 'base', mostly in search of scrap material and food. He couldn't tell what had originally prompted him to venture inside the caves overlooking the desert plain where he now lived, chalk it down to morbid curiosity. He stepped foot inside a cool dark cave, torch in one hand and knife in the other, on the lookout for wild animals. All caves he'd explored previously had been empty, but one could never be too certain... Keith wasn't about to become someone's lunch.
He traced his hands over the cave walls to maintain his balance. The passage became narrower the deeper in he went. For once Keith was glad he wasn't very tall. Bending his upper body and hunching his back, he squeezed himself through the tunnel, hands trailing along its walls, knife fixed at his hip, torch stuck in his mouth, between his lips.
What he saw next took his breath away. The tunnel opened up into a wide hall with a high ceiling. Flashing his torch light around him, he saw the entire ceiling was painted, covered in detailed carvings and complex geometric designs. Awe struck, he stared at the drawings, wondering if people had once lived here, ...how many? Why? And... when?
He traced the carvings with his fingertips, and drew back with a yelp. The carvings... they had lit up red.
Uncertainly Keith approached the wall again. This time he placed his left hand flat on the wall. The entire cave lit up in a low red light. Keith blinked, hardly trusting his eyes. He shut the torch off since he no longer needed it to see... this cave was huge, bigger than the previous ones. Keith let go of the wall and the room was plunged into darkness.
Huh, so the carvings emitted low frequency light when in contact with human skin? What sort of material was this? Keith touched the wall and once again, the cave lit up red all around him. There was a larger tunnel leading away from the hall, larger than the one Keith had crawled in through. He went down it, hoping it led to an exit. His stomach rumbled. He had ten energy bars left inside his tent, wrapped in five layers of plastic to keep rodents away.
To his disappointment, the tunnel seemed to be a dead end. Keith was about to head back down his true and tried tunnel, when a pair of yellow eyes lit up in a dark corner of the cave. He heard a rumble. Keith's legs began trembling. He reached for his flashlight and snapped it on.
No, not an animal... a machine? Keith frowned. What was it doing here? Had he stumbled on a top secret military weapon? He took a step back, then cautiously stepped forward.
The thing was gigantic. A large metal structure stood before him, with aerodynamic streamlined sides, decorated in blood red paint. Standing so close, Keith could hardly make out its shape or determine what it looked like overall. He supposed it could be a mining machine, used underground... or a machine that drilled for probes. Hell it could even be a new design from the Galaxy Garrison, and this could be their way of testing the probe drilling robot before they sent it out to Mars or some other planet. This robot could be dangerous, still, Keith stepped closer.
He reached out to touch the structure when a sudden jolt of electricity made him yank his arm back in pain. He hadn't even touched the robot, his hand hadn't even come close. Some, some barrier, some invisible barrier had repelled him. Keith stared at the red robot in disbelief. No way. Had technology advanced this far? Humans could create force field barriers?
