He remembered seeing Lance for the first time.
He remembered a lot of things that Lance thought he'd forgotten.
He remembered seeing those dark blue eyes and that shit-eating grin from across the room, and thinking oh fuck.
He remembered thinking his heart skipped a beat (Or two, or ten) and he jerked his head away from the boy, feeling his face flush pink that had nothing to do with the cold weather.
Those eyes were burned into his skull, and no amount of head-banging or focusing on his homework could get Lance out of his head.
He wasn't that bad of a pilot, either. He gave Keith a run for his money (not that he had any) on the simulators, using techniques that Keith could never seem to pull off.
Or he was an adrenaline junkie with a broken fear wire and impulsive piloting.
(it was always the crazy ones who beat the simulators, that pushed the laws of physics to the limit, that pushed their common sense aside for science)
He remembered the way Lance's eyes met his after each simulation, as if challenging him to do better, daring him to make a crazier move that could cut back on fuel and get some extra kilometers of speed.
He never quite got very far above Lance's scores. Most were beaten by a mere ten points. But he did beat him every single time.
Then Shiro went missing.
and two weeks later Keith left the Garrison and never looked back.
When he had a weekend or two off, he would fly to the moon. The moon's gravity made him feel like he was constantly walking on eggshells, tiptoeing the line between walking and flying.
It was amazing to look out of his pod window while in orbit and see the Earth in its blue and green glory, a shining beacon in the middle of the void.
It looked rather lonely.
He supposed the Earth had the Moon to talk to.
There was an old pub built when mankind first colonized the once-white moon, making it green with life and a small atmosphere that was perfect for farmland. It was a dingy looking place, shoved haphazardly between a repair shop and an old spaceport, and one of the most ancient sort of places on the moon. The tables had graffiti dating back to the 2130's.
He wasn't sure why he was attracted to this place, seeing as history wasn't one of his favorite subject (he preferred flying to dying), until he realized that Lance would love this place.
It was loud and smelled of fries and beer and that artificial oxygen that came in a canister. (the type that never seemed to go away, even after centuries). Everyone knew each other and anyone could plop down and make friends or foes. Lance would love to come here.
Keith doesn't know why he's thinking about him so much, attracted to a bar on the moon that reminds him of a cargo pilot that hated him, especially when he's just a crazy guy in a shack trying to figure out some stupid blue lion runes.
(Blue like Lance's eyes, the color of Texas Bluebonnets in the early spring that covered the highways in a goddamned blue and choked out the other lupines)
(Blue like Lance's nails after coming back from Christmas break, telling everyone who'd listen that his younger sister did them and weren't they beautiful, and would you like to see a picture of her?)
(Blue like that scarf he wore the first time he saw him, looking hand knitted with love and care and it looked warm)
(Warm and blue and soft and lance)
"Who?"
"Lance and Keith, neck and neck?"
"Sorry, I don't remember."
come talk to me on tumblr! my writing/art blog is ravenbyntious