"I hate Valentine's day," huffed Pidge.

She glared at a group of girls as they passed. They were giggling shyly and smiling near their lockers, each one of them holding a Hallmark card or a red, blooming rose.

"It's just a worthless holiday made up by greeting card companies to get money," Pidge continued, rolling her eyes at the giggling. She turned away from the girls, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose forcefully.

"Careful now," Lance teased. He bumped her playfully with his arm. "Your asexual is showing."

"Oh, fuck off," Pidge whirled her head around to face her friend, her eyes narrowing. "You can barely go five seconds without making a comment announcing that you're bi. Jesus."

Lance smirked, raising his eyebrows as he looked away from her and observed the hallway around him. Everywhere he looked, there were roses and cards and candy. The lockers, which covered the walls on either side of them from floor to ceiling, were decorated with pearly white wallpaper speckled with pale pink hearts. The linoleum floor glittered with the tattered remains of aluminum foil and the crumbs of pastel candies. To Lance's right, a boy twisted the small dial on his locker, trying to open it. The dial clicked, and the boy yanked it open, being immediately smothered in multi coloured streamers. He grinned sheepishly at the teenager next to him, who shyly returned his smile. The boy leaned over, kissing them on the cheek, and whispered something in their ear. The person blushed. Lance rolled his eyes back into his head.

"Well I, for one, like Valentine's day," Hunk said. Lance turned his head to the left, facing the other boy. In light of the special occasion, he had swapped out his canary yellow bandana, which had become a staple around his skull, with a crimson red piece of cloth.

Hunk sighed, stars glittering in his dark eyes. "It's just so sweet, you know? Young love." He gestured towards two girls in front of them. One of the girls, pale and blonde, slipped a Ring Pop on her partner's left hand, smiling mischievously. Her girlfriend laughed, her bright white hair bopping around her head as she threw it back in delight.

"Oh, barf in my mouth," Pidge said. She lifted her small hand up to her face, sticking one finger towards her mouth in a gagging gesture.

"You know, just because you're bitter doesn't mean everyone else has to be," Hunk told the girl.

"Why not?" Pidge asked, mischievously glancing in Hunk's direction. She wiggled her eyebrows mockingly. "It's so much fun to make other people feel pain."

"Jesus, Pidge! Lighten up," Lance said. He stopped walking, letting Hunk and Pidge pass him as he turned towards his beige locker. He began to turn the dial, his long golden fingers making the numbers click as the door began to unlock.

"Yeah, Pidge, lighten up," Hunk smiled at the girl, ruffling her orange hair playfully as they walked away. She bared her teeth at him, bringing one hand up to smack the back of his head. She was too short, though, and had to settle for punching him, hard, in the shoulder.

"See you guys later!" Lance called, as they got further away from him, bickering back and forth as they went. He smiled, shaking his head, a small laugh held just behind his lips. He turned the dial on his locker a few more times, and jiggled it open.

He blinked, looking into his locker. He turned his head to either side in a state of confusion. It was the end of the day: the bell had rung nearly ten minutes ago, and the halls were anything but full. A few people still straggled, getting their overstuffed binders from their lockers or scurrying towards their after school robotics class.

Lance blinked again.

He looked back to the inside of his locker, still confused.

For there was an envelope. A card. A Valentine.

Lance may have talked a big game around his friends, but, in reality, he had never had a partner of any kind. No girlfriend. No boyfriend. Not even a fourth grade sweetheart.

So seeing a small envelope in his locker on Valentine's day? He wasn't even able to… process what was happening.

He reached his hand into the metal box, tentatively fingering the envelope and pulling it towards him.

It wasn't a mistake; it was definitely for him. There, written in neat, block handwriting, was his name.

Lance McClain.

He turned the pearly envelope over, and slid his round fingernail underneath the seal. The paper ripped haphazardly along the the seam, twisting and pulling away from his hand in either direction.

Lance lifted the flap, pulling out the small piece of yellow lined paper that was inside the envelope. He unfolded it carefully, placing the ripped envelope on top of his books.

There, in the same handwriting, were ten little words.

Meet me in the student parking lot at three-fifteen.

Lance narrowed his eyes. This seemed suspiciously kidnapper like. Possibly rapist like.

But, then again, the person who had given him this note had known his name. Had known where is locker was. So they must be a student at the school.

Lance looked at the clock on the opposite wall.

3:13.

He slammed his locker shut, and sprinted down the hall, deciding to take the chance.

Lance arrived at the student parking lot, doubled over and wheezing. He ran a hand through his dark chestnut hair, and leaned against a thin, bare tree.

The student parking lot, located on the south side of the high school building, was barely a parking lot at all. It was a small slab of asphalt, only able to hold about ten cars, and was on the opposite end of the school from most of Lance's classes. So, in short, he didn't come here very often.

Around the lot was an array of knobbly trees and overgrown bushes, surprisingly green and well off despite it being February. Long, thin grass stalks sprouted out of the concrete path that wound from the south entrance of the building to the edge of the school grounds. Scattered about were cold, concrete benches and rickety picnic tables intended for the students; however, they seemed seldom used. A forgotten hornet's nest clung to the threadbare fabric of one of the umbrellas at a table, and a large colony of ants had taken residence underneath one of the benches near where Lance was standing, pittering up and along the stone legs.

Lance inhaled heavily, trying to catch his breath. He held his side, trying to nurse the stitch that had blossomed in his ribs. He pulled his mobile out of his back pocket, and checked the time.

3:15.

Lance sighed, and closed his eyes. He had made it.

He slid to the ground, the tree bark scratching his back as he went. The grass was thick and damp around his legs. He breathed. Inhale. Exhale.

"Hey."

Lance's eyelids flew open. He flung his head back, staring at the figure who towered over him.

He was tall and lean, with ivory pale skin that was tinted blue from the shadows of the branches hovering above him. Charcoal black hair hung around his head in a wily mullet, curling around the nape of his neck in waves. A clump of bangs hung thickly across his forehead, partially covering one of his large, violet eyes. He was clothed entirely in black, from head to toe, excluding his jacket, which was a bright, crimson, red. The collar was popped, and his hair draped over it in chunks. Despite his, well… slightly obtuse demeanor, his eyes glinted with compassion and delicacy, making him excrete an air of boyish charm.

The boy sat down in front of the still very startled Lance, crossing one leg over the other. He ran a hand through his hair nervously, and looked at the other boy, smiling hesitantly.

Lance stared at the boy in front of him. He realized his mouth was open, and shut it quickly.

"Did… did you give me this?" Lance asked. He held up the yellow note.

The other boy blushed. "Um… yeah. I mean, yes, I did."

Now it was Lance's turn to blush. He looked down in a state of disbelief.

Keith fucking Kogane gave me a Valentine's day letter, Lance thought to himself. Keith Kogane is sitting right next to me. Shit. Shit shit shit.

Lance told his inner monologue to calm the fuck down.

"Do you know who I am?" Keith asked.

"Of course I do," Lance said, maybe a little too quickly. He looked Keith in the eye, trying to tame his throbbing heartbeat.

Ba-dum.

Ba-dum.

Ba-dum.

The truth was, he had liked the other boy for as long as he could remember. His presence was comforting. Exciting. Even if Lance only ever saw him from a distance.

He thought that nothing would ever happen between him and Keith. They didn't speak very much, and, when they did, it was only really about school related topics.

How did you do on that astronomy test?

I can't believe Mr. Shirogane is forcing us all to write a ten page paper on military history.

What were the problems we had to do for Algebra?

Lance had savored these moments. Each and every one. Every time that Keith sent a look his way, or even bumped into him in the hallway, his heart leapt into his throat, and his stomach dropped all the way down to his toes.

He never had said anything though. Not to anyone. If Hunk or, God forbid, Pidge, had ever found out… he would have never heard the end of it.

Keith sighed. "Sooo… I'm not really good at this. I had everything planned out, you know, of what I was going to say, in my head. But now it's gone. Poof." He made a gesture near his head. Lance smiled.

The boy inhaled nervously, tapping his fingers on his knee. He looked away from Lance, blushing deeply. "I asked you to, you know, come here because, well, I, uh… like you. A lot. For a long time now, actually." Keith cleared his throat, looking up at the sky. Lance could see his Adam's apple, traveling up and down his throat in a fidgety fashion. "I wanted to tell you, away from, you know… prying eyes, I guess. That's why I left you a note."

"You're quite the romantic."

"What?" Keith said, startled. He looked at Lance, who smirked.

"It is Valentine's day, you know."

"Oh… yeah," Keith said sheepishly. He looked away.

Lance scooted closer to the other boy, mimicking his crossed legs. They were close enough now that their knees touched. Keith looked up, and Lance met his gaze.

"I'm not complaining," Lance said, winking. Keith smiled thinly.

Lance looked down. He reached his hands forward, pulling Keith's arms away from his lap so that they rested where their legs touched. He touched his palms, tangling his tan fingers in his pale ones. They were hot to the touch, and his ivory skin shimmered in the dusty afternoon light.

Keith smiled tentatively, looking down at their entwined hands.

Lance tapped his fingers on Keith's knuckles, and smiled as well.

"Actually," he said softly. "I think it's kind of sweet. Much better than something I could have come up with."

Keith laughed, making the air around Lance brighten by a thousand fold.

Lance joined him, his shoulders bobbing as he giggled at himself.

They looked at each other, catching their breath. Lance tightened his grip on Keith, not wanting to let go. He looked him straight in the eye.

"I like you too."

"Really?"

"Really."

The two boys smiled at each other, each relieved that the other had felt the same. Keith traced the inside of Lance's palm with his finger, gently making a heart. He laughed airily, giddy with delight.

Lance leaned forward, closing the distance between them. He pulled Keith's hands to his chest, drawing him closer. Their mouths connected, the taste of each other's lips sweet on their tongues.

Lance sighed, closing his eyes. He wanted to remember every moment of this. The feel of him. The taste of him. Remember how close he was and how soft and gentle his kisses were. He pushed against the other boy's mouth, letting their lips melt into each other. Letting everything in the world fade away except for the feeling of Keith's lips on his.

The two boys broke apart, their eyes still closed. Lance kept his face close to Keith's, touching the tip of his long, thin nose with his own. He could feel the whispers of Keith's breaths against his chin, the warmth tingling his skin and sending electric currents all throughout his body. He kissed him again, because he could. Because they both wanted it. Because years and years of longing and waiting could be cured when their lips touched.

They pulled apart again, breathless. Keith ran his hand through Lance's hair, feeling his delicate scalp beneath the dark umber tangles.

"...Wow," Keith whispered, touching the top of his lip against Lance's chin. He felt the boy shiver, electricity arcing across both of their bodies. "For how long… have you wanted this?"

Lance brushed his lips against the other boy's, sighing softly. They were barely an inch apart. He smiled.

"Forever."