There were nights neither of them could sleep, afraid of harrowing memories and thoughts unraveling before them if they closed their eyes. Dreams used to be an escape, but now, sinking into that realm led to an uncertainty and panic.

What if they saw things they thought they'd forgotten? Things that reminded them they hadn't left the war unscathed? What if the past caught them off-guard, replaying scenes better left unmentioned?

More than once, one of them had startled awake, clutching the covers, heart pounding in their ears, overwhelming loud. Shaking, they would reach to hold the other and try to remember how to breathe.

It was difficult, the first couple of times. Neither Lance or Keith wanted to be a burden to the other, neither wanted the other to know just how vulnerable they really were. It was all behind them now, anyway, by years and distance, wasn't it? What was there left to be afraid of when the shadows they saw couldn't hurt them physically anymore?

But eventually, they learned to hold out to each other in a mutual solace, chasing away monsters in soft reassurances and kisses, fingers intertwined to ground themselves to something familiar, warm and safe. Scars and blemishes you could see on skin weren't the only ones that were painful.

If their relationship had taught them anything, it was that they were supposed to be there for each other. They'd gone through so much more than anyone their age should've experienced. Their first kiss had been in the heat of the moment, right when they'd believe it would all be over as fire and shots rained down on them; it wasn't on some romantic date with flowers and the soft overhead glow of a streetlamp.

Of course, they'd had some hints before then - the subtle glances, the rare but soft smiles, the way they began to joke and talk more - as friends, not rivals. The light banter they carried didn't have any heat behind it, just a sort of playfulness and rhythm they came to enjoy.

But neither of them could admit aloud, couldn't place words to the way their hearts were fluttering and how they would light up at the mere mention of the other. It'd been awkward, how they danced around, obviously wanting to say more, but never plucking the courage to actually do so. Because, well, how could the other possible feel the same?

Guess it had only taken a near-death situation for actions to be put to those emotions.

How clichè.

But now, as the moon shines, form just a sliver in the sky seen through the window of their bedroom, in a house startling normal and mundane, they whisper, telling stories. Most are nonsense and steal little smiles and giggles from the both of them, as they lay under the constellations of the glow-in-the-dark-stars on their ceiling. Keith had thought the green, luminous objects had been too childish, but Lance had insisted.

He didn't regret the addition to the room.

"So then Veronica comes after me - mind you she still had chicken feathers stuck to her hair - and she's mad, but she's laughing too. I was totally screwed . . ."

Lance continues, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he tells of his childhood, happiness laced in his tone. He seems so content, so at peace.

And Keith is lost, in the color of those eyes, in the world he holds within those blue irises that remind him of an ocean; constantly moving, vast, holding so many mysteries he wants to unravel. He's lost in that voice, in the love they share. He has an entire galaxy, a universe within him, and Keith realizes he's apart of it.

Maybe he's always been, in some way. Lance had always talked about "soulmates", "stars aligning", and "fate", subjects Keith had always been doubtful of. To him, Mothman being real had been so much more likely. (And he was still trying to prove the crytpid's existence after all these years away from Earth. Hey, if purple furry aliens were real - his mother had been one - then why was Mothman so far-fetched?)

But...

Maybe Keith was starting to believe it - that stuff about destiny.

Maybe the universe, for all the misfortune and confusion it brought, also created unimaginable connections that somehow worked and clicked.

How else would he be here, wrapped up in Lance's embrace, in a world it seems he's just beginning to know, but will never get tired of?

They'd been at odds with each other because they were almost complete opposites, but it had been those same differences that drew them together.

As Galaxy Garrison cadets, Paladins of Voltron, teammates, friends . . . and finally lovers. The paths they were on had diverged at one point, completely straying away from each other, but they ended up crossing again.

Two people, with the same name and face, but different. Changed by having to figure out who they really were in a time of war, loss, and uncertainty. Where one mistake could mean failing yourself and everyone you cared about - at the cost of your own life.

So yeah. Fate might have had something to do with it.

Lance, eventually, grows tired, he can tell, as his voice drifts off to mumbles. So he reaches up, traces the slope of his nose with his thumb, then brushes over his lips, hand finally coming to rest on his cheek. Lance hums, then mutters softly, closing his eyes. He places a gentle kiss Keith's eyebrow, seemingly by accident - he probably meant to aim for his temple - with a sleepy, "Love you."

For a moment, Keith doesn't speak, air gone from his lungs and brain short circuits, until he remembers to breathe. Right. Because oxygen is important. He smiles, and says -- almost inaudibly -- "I love you too."

He sleeps peacefully that night, dreaming about waves of blue and faraway galaxies.