If Adam had to compare people in his life with colors, Shiro would be black. Cheesy. Cliché. Obvious. But Shiro would be black.
Black doesn't change. Doesn't waver. Mysterious and yet welcoming. No light but all colors. Sturdy. Neutral.
Like a void.
Shiro was a void that would pull you in if you looked at it for too long.
Adam knew, though, that if you went deeper in that void, you would find stars, planets, and everything you could imagine that is on space. You would find hopes and dreams. You would find a hunger to explore beyond the stars.
When he left, there was also a void.
A void with no dream inside.
There was a silence. A darkness. An emptiness. A stillness.
Adam never hated black more.
Going on with the thought, Keith would be red. Also cheesy. Cliché. Obvious. Of course Keith would be red.
Red burns. Always changing, always moving. Unstable and dangerous yet bright and warm. All light, sometimes blood. Rapid. Consuming.
Like fire.
Keith would burn anyone that came too close, and warm up anyone he wanted close.
Adam knew that the fire was just as welcoming as the void, you just needed to find it on the right shade. You would then find selflessness and friendship. You would find hopes and plans. You would find a love not for places but for people.
When he left, fire red and blood red turned the same.
Blood doesn't shine, nor is it warm for long.
There was a stillness. A coldness. A darkness. A melancholy.
Adam didn't like red and its shades.
There was one person, though, one person that would always be a bit tricky. Lance could be blue. The cheesy, cliché, obvious choice. Lance could be blue.
Blue also comes in many shades. Blue is cold. Slow and steady, no rush and no hesitation. Sometimes bright, sometimes dark. All sky, all sea. Calm. Adaptable.
Like water.
Lance was like water, serene in a moment, agitated in another.
Adam knew how easy it was to drown on that water, you only needed to let it. You only needed to accept it and let it accept you. Let it welcome you, cool you down. Let it involve you with its calm. Only then you would be able to sink and see how much there is under the surface. How many worlds it has. How many worlds you can be part of if you just let yourself sink.
But Lance could also be red.
Passionate, bright, burning.
But Lance could also be black.
Pulling you into a void of dreams and hopes.
But Lance could also be yellow.
Cheerful, energizing, full.
But Lance could also be green.
So many secrets and curiosities hidden in an everyday thing.
In the end, Lance could be white.
All colors, all light. Full. Empty. Endless. Ephemeral. Black and red and blue and yellow and green and everything and nothing.
And Lance.
When he came, he brought a whole aquarelle.
The void didn't go away. Nor were the bloodstains gone. But they looked better with the other colors around them.
It started maybe two weeks after Shiro entered that ship and left for Kerberos. Adam was still trying to sort out his life. He was a fully functional grown man, he could live properly after everything that happened. Except he wasn't truly living.
He knew it was a plot the moment he saw who was asking him for some tutoring.
"You entered the Garrison with a scholarship."
"So? Still need help." The boy—he couldn't be much older than Keith—shrugged. "So, are you going to help me, please?"
He thought of denying the boy's request and moving on with his kind-of-life, he truly did, but there was something in the eyes of that boy. Bluest blue, calming and comforting. No trace of the usual pity people had after Shiro left. No trace of malicious intents. Just a boy asking for tutoring. Just a boy offering him company.
Adam wouldn't deny if asked. Tutoring Lance was one of the best decisions ever he made.
He was loud and attention catching, except when he wasn't and blended perfectly with the background. He always had a smile on his face, and when he hadn't, soon he would. Lovely voice, cracked here and there, but no doubt would smooth over the years. Tall and lean, perfect build for agility and speed. Dark skin and brown hair, contrasting with the blue eyes and shine smile. Caring, kind, selfless, confident, cocky, whiny. Secretive open book.
Adam could go on about what the boy was and what he did, but in summary:
Lance made him happy again.
Everyday Adam beamed while walking to the library, the place they met for tutoring. Everyday his smile turned larger. Everyday his soul turned lighter than a feather. Everyday his eyes shined more and more with that vivid glow of someone alive.
He admitted that some part of him felt bad for feeling good while his relationship with Shiro was still a mess. He admitted some part of him censured him for getting attached to Lance so quickly. So easily. He admitted some part of him warned him time and time again to not let that attachment go further.
He also admitted ignoring all those parts of him and focusing on the ones that said what he wanted to hear. The part of him that wondered what Lance was doing in the middle of the day. The part that gushed over the cat smiles that boy sometimes gifted the world randomly at lunch. The part that fondly remembered the boy making a fool of himself—with and without meaning to. The part that exasperatedly counted the amount of times the boy threw some lame excuse on the air so they could hang out.
"Lance, you aced your last exam."
"So? You think I don't wanna ace the next, mister?"
Ah, the sassiness. Adam loved the sassiness.
When Keith was expelled, a bit after Shiro was considered dead, Adam was afraid. Afraid of the emptiness that would come. Afraid of the sadness that would overtake his mind and soul. Afraid of the worry that would constantly perch itself on his shoulders. Afraid of the nothingness being left behind brought.
He still felt all of it, but there was nothing to fear. Not with Lance there, by his side, helping him carry his burdens and helping him stand up when he fell.
The kiss was in part because of his euphoric joy, in part because of some feelings he might have been bottling up for some weeks. In his defense, Lance looked so precious with that big smile, telling him animatedly about how he finally got in the fighting class, and while it was because Keith ran away, at least he was the one who got in. Lance was in the middle of telling Adam not to worry because he would give his best when the older man kissed him.
Lance tasted like homemade meals and warm afternoons.
If white ever had a taste, it would probably taste like Lance.
Adam believed so.
The kiss brought some questions and doubts none of them was ready yet to delve into. So they didn't ask. They didn't wonder. They didn't think. They let time do its thing and run forwards. They let the moment settle in their minds as a sweet memory.
They let their lips met multiple times after that first kiss.
Their kisses were shared in secret, hidden by the darkness or by four walls and a good lock. Their kisses were only for themselves. They actually enjoyed the idea just as much as they enjoyed the idea of their kisses being only each other's.
"You taste like coffee, Addy."
"Don't call me that, meu bem."
"Have you been drinking the whole coffee pot again?"
"You taste like chocolate, did you find Hunk's stash again?"
"Oh, hush you!"
Adam loved to have Lance in his arms. Lance smelled like the sea and felt like home. He was guilty of longer hugs and even some cuddling sessions. He couldn't help himself. Although, considering the situation, being away from Lance would be much more torturous than giving in to his needy wishes. He couldn't help himself because he didn't need help.
The first time they made love was, well, loving. Adam asked Lance to lie down and let him worship his entire being like the boy deserved. Later he would agree it was cheesy even for him and his hopelessness romantic antics, but the red that took over Lance's face and the soft glow of adoration in bluest blue eyes made it worth it.
Two weeks later, Adam received the news.
Three Garrison students disappeared.
Pidge. Adam remembered a girl—boy?—that looked extremely familiar to Matt Holt, but was a lighter shade of green.
Hunk. Adam remembered a boy—big boy—with a kind smile and a gentle shade of yellow.
Lance.
Lance. Adam remembered a boy—his boy—made of blue, and red, and black, and yellow, and green, and everything, and nothing.
And Lance.
Adam could not bring himself to hate white.
Silly him, tears are transparent.
Staring at the stars, Lance remembered the safety of Adam's hugs and kisses tasting of coffee and chocolate.
If Lance had to pick a color for every person in his life, Adam would be white.
All light, all colors.
All he loved.
All he left.
All he would die and live for.