Hunk was highly aware that he wasn't a perfect person. More so than most, he liked to believe. Because while most people went on long tangents to their friends or family about other people's flaws, Hunk was more introspective about the whole thing. He wasn't good under pressure...at all. He had a nasty habit of rambling about things that didn't matter (and was slightly insensitive within those rambles, though that part was more buried in his mind), and his fighting skills (while improved) left something to be desired. Most importantly though? He was a terrible pilot. He never brought up these perceived flaws within himself to others, he figured they could see them well enough on their own and were far too kind to bring it up. Because who did that? Maybe Keith if he was annoyed, but even then he wasn't cruel just… intense. It had to be that way, otherwise people would have shouted more than his name when he bumped into that wall and sent lava cascading after them.

Hunk was not unaware of his strengths either, of course he wasn't. If he hadn't been confident in at least part of himself, than he would have curled up in a corner and cried on their first day on a new planet. That was not to mention the bragging he did on occasion. But the human condition, in all of its glory, sent his mind down darker paths nonetheless.

When Hunk had first become a Paladin, and he'd found himself on the Balmera, it was as though he'd woken from a long sleep. What had once been a simmering need to be a good person as well as a competent cook and mechanic, had burst forth into a blazing fire. He had never been more sure of anything in his life than when he promised Shay that he would come back for her! Helping people was his passion, it gave him purpose. But after the Balmera? Well. He wasn't useless, heavens no, but… he kind of felt like it. Like that fire had been snuffed out by bureaucracy and long battles, tiny mistakes and missing families that weren't his own and how could he possibly understand?- and just ugh, he loved his friends/family more than anything but he felt suddenly restrained, deflated like some poor souffle. Even getting skultrite from the belly of a giant space monster (as well as getting acknowledged by Galra Keith -haha-) and saving those poor aliens from their eroding acid planet had done little to restore the passion he had first felt.

Hunk thought that he had a voice within the group. That at any moment he could offer his two cents towards a situation, and have his friends and allies honestly listen to him. It wasn't reality. He didn't feel like a member of the team, rather a grunt waiting for his orders. It was his own fault though wasn't it, because he didn't offer any opinions on the "planning" stages of their attacks in the first place (before Shiro disappeared and then reappeared and but was different and- uh, continuing on). Those long boring conversations between everyone arguing back and forth whilst Hunk tried (and failed) not to fall asleep. It wasn't that he was too stupid to understand them, it was… his brain wasn't wired right. Hunk used to hate family gatherings for that very reason (though he adored his family), because everyone always talked over each other, offering their opinions strongly only to be cut off by another point of view. There were always at least five groups in different sections of the same area chattering on about everything and nothing. Hunk had honestly tried to be a part of those groups, but it had done him no good. He was a methodical person, he focused on one issue, he picked it apart piece by piece in his head, and then he would probably write an itemized list of all the things he needed to do and remember. Alone or with maybe two other people at most (Lance and Pidge). Hunk loved people, but having other's opinions in his head messed up his perfect list and then threw it into a fire.

And then Lotor. Just... What? The universe just loved to surprise him.

Hunk wanted to be useful, he wanted to help people until he collapsed only to get back up again and work harder, but felt more like a burden and a hinderance instead. Because even without him the group still had Pidge who was equally intelligent as Hunk (if not more so). Sure they had different specializations, but if Pidge put her mind to it she could easily fix an engine as well as he did. And she knew how to fly her lion and not endanger everyone by sending a lavafall after them! That was the root of it wasn't it? That he couldn't pilot Yellow properly. His relationship with the other Paladins had fallen into a predictable pattern of forgiving and immediately forgetting his screw ups after a light reprimand. Like he didn't matter enough to be lectured. Pidge, Keith, and Shiro mattered, and everyone that wasn't blind could see that Lance "best friend/ brother ever" McClain mattered! But Hunk didn't. Not enough.

Hunk woke up earlier than he usually did, his blankets tangled around his legs and a trail of drool down the side of his face. He rolled over onto his back, stretched out his long limbs, then stopped. He stared at the ceiling, because the ceiling was a nice plain color that didn't make him think of anything other than "I wonder what shade this is. Eggshell?". He folded his hands over the expanse of yellow pajama shirt on his stomach, the muscles in his fingers loosening and tightening on repeat as though he were trying to create some sort of shape with them. Hunk couldn't bring himself to move otherwise. His limbs felt heavy, his head like it was going to fly away, and he couldn't truly be bothered anyways. Which wasn't true. He dearly wanted to get up and make breakfast then maybe have a conversation with Lance, talk tech with Pidge and NOT double modulate thank you very much.

Though the weight in his arms had not receded, Hunk lifted one and pressed it against his closed right eye, not bothering to fight the tears that came. Getting out his emotions was healthy, it was better than blowing up in front of everyone. This felt...different though. It wasn't fear, it felt more like… what the heck was the point of even trying anymore? Which was certainly sad and frustrating and worth his tears more than that one time he'd screwed up one of his mother's recipes back on earth (something that had kept him irrationally sobbing for some twenty minutes until the woman herself had put a stop to it with a warm hug). Hunk sucked in a slow breath and let it out through his mouth, a strange shuddering sensation rushing through his upper body like an earthquake. A sob. Another breath. More uselessness. Keep going, work it out, you've got this! A wave of reassurance from Yellow came all the way from the hangar, much like a hug. Hunk swallowed past the lump in his throat and decisively sat up. He didn't feel much better, but that didn't matter.

Hunk Garrett was strong, resourceful, brave when he needed to be and the epitome of kindness. He was a caretaker, a cook, and a shield. He may have been rude to Keith (God how he missed Keith) about being Galra but it came from a place of wanting to understand. Because the more he understood, the better he could be (the better his lists could be). Yes, Hunk was a good person.

The problem was that he could no longer see it.