Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: Gen

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Relationship: Lance & Red Lion

Character: Lance (Voltron)

Tags: Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, Mentions of Panic Attacks, Lance isn't really adjusting too well, Red isn't helping as much as she wishes she was, My blue baby misses his Blue lady, Suicidal Thoughts

Notes:

Okay, so just a heads up, because I've been writing more of the lions interacting lately I'll explain how I see each of them feeling to their respective paladins.

Blue is water and Ice so I write her as being cold. A constant icy feeling that sticks in the back of the active conscious and slowly engulfs her Paladin. It's a constant cold, one that doesn't waver. The cold can intensify if her paladin is emotionally distressed, but otherwise she usually keeps them just under chilled. Feeling like Frost is creeping down her paladin's spine.

Red is fire, heat. She's hot and molten, same as Blue she's felt in the back of her paladin's active mind, her heat slowly taking over her paladin. They feel her as a constant heat, just this side of bearable, but it intensifies with her emotions. Unlike Blue however, her heat recedes as her paladin's emotions more wild.

Yellow I imagine is warm, like a ray of sunshine shining on you, making you pleasantly warm but not overly hot. He's kind and strong and protective. Yellow is steady warmth, like a mother's hug, safe. He let's his warmth engulf his paladin slowly, it's not overbearingly noticeable like Red and Blue but it is more prominent than Green or Black. His warmth lingers in the front part of the subconscious.

Green I imagine is soft, like the plants she protects. Her presence in her paladin is more like a nudge, like dandelion spores floating in the breeze. Her paladin knows she's there, the constant flutter like butterfly wings in the back of their subconscious, but she isn't greedy like Red or Blue, and she doesn't want to distract her paladin, and so isn't even as daring as Yellow.

Black is cool, warmer than Blue, but colder than Yellow or Green. She's soft like a gust of wind blowing through a field of grass. She prefers her own privacy, just as she knows her paladin does as well. She will reach out if they are reaching for her first or if she needs to tell them something. Otherwise she will keep to herself. Her presence is less than a tickle in the farther reaches of her paladin's subconscious.

The thing about always being second best, was that you knew you were never quite good enough. And the thing about always being second best to Keith , was that Lance knew no matter what he did, how much he tried, or how long he spent training and practicing, he would never measure up. When Keith had dropped out of the Garrison, Lance had had mixed feelings about being moved up to fighter class. Yes it was his dream. Yes it was what he desperately wanted, no matter what. But he had wanted to earn it. To look Keith in the eyes and be acknowledged as equals. He wanted to have gotten there on his own merit, not on a fluke. So yes , he was happy to have his dream placement, but no , he wasn't happy about the means by which he got it.

When Blue had chosen him, out of all of them, had picked him first, he had been excited. Theirs was a bond that he knew could weather even time itself. Blue and Lance, Lance and Blue, together till the end of time, forever.

Forever turned out to be a lot shorter that he remembered it being.

And he was back to replacing Keith. It seemed that was the one thing he was good for; replacing Keith. Being a substitute, a last resort. The spare tire that didn't really fit the car, but it was good enough to get you to the auto shop to get something that did fit and then put right back under the trunk to be forgotten about until the next time it was needed. "The only reason you're here is because the best pilot in your class had a discipline issue, and dropped out. Don't , follow in his footsteps." kept echoing in his head over and over again. It was like being back at the Garrison and having Iverson chew him out for the littlest things, because that was what Iverson did, all. Over. Again.

Lance found himself waking from nightmares in a cold sweat and short of breath more and more frequently since he had taken over Red. Found himself hyperventilating when her heat got too intense. Found himself crouched down in the hallway trying to remember how to breathe again when he felt that familiar sense of loss at Blue's absence. He was used to being cold. Blue was water, ice. He had gotten used to her chilling touch and the constant frost that clawed at his consciousness and crawled down his spine, numbing his insecurities, dulling his senses to anything that might cause this depression he was falling deeper and deeper into to flair. She had been his safety net. His life line. And now? Now he felt like he had been hung out to dry. He had tried so many times to talk to her, to get her to tell him what he could have possibly done to warrant such cruel treatment. To not even get a heads up, or for her to ask him what he wanted. No one ever asked what he wanted.

Because he was Lance.

He was a 'good sport' and wouldn't mind being passed around like a frisbee.

Wouldn't mind 'doing it for the team' or whatever bullshit they wanted to call it.

He felt his chest tighten as he left Keith's room after they had gotten Shiro back, his throat closing up and his lungs struggling to work. His vision was starting to blur and his heart rate was skyrocketing, he was sweating bullets. Why it was happening now, Lance couldn't have told you as he fell to the floor, clutching his chest, scratching at his flesh through his shirt, as if trying to claw the organs out of his body. He needed Blue. He needed her cold. Red tried to help, sending him waves of heat that only had him gasping and sweating more profusely. He screwed his eyes shut as he tried to calm himself, tears starting to form at the corners; 7, 3, 9, 1, 8, 4. He counted out in his head. 7 … 3, 9 … 1,8, … 4. He felt the tight feeling start to recede, and his lungs begin working once more. It was a small trick he had pick up back home when he had had mild panic attacks back in middle school about public speaking. Counting out of sequence helped the brain focus on something other than freaking out. And while it didn't work in every case, it at least worked here.

Lance clutched the wall, trying to pull himself back up, but his limbs felt heavier than lead and he only succeeded in softening his fall the rest of the way to the ground. The black hole was calling to him, and every time it got a grip on him like that it took longer and longer to crawl back out of it's pull. With Shiro back, he would eventually take Black back from Keith. It was only natural after all. And without Black, Keith would of course demand Red back, leaving Lance, where exactly? Not with Blue, because Allura was actually a really good paladin. She was stronger and smarter than Lance was. She was a faster learner and she was able to make decisive decisions in the heat of the moment where Lance more often than not floundered for much longer than could be considered safe for the team.

Keith had told him not to worry about it, but that didn't help calm any of his fears or worries. He was sure Keith had meant it to be reassuring, but really? It wasn't. Keith himself was half the problem. Keith was perfect, chosen by Shiro, accepted by Black, acknowledged as leader by the team. Keith was determined and he was skilled. What did Lance have to offer in exchange? Self deprecating Jokes? False bravado? One liners that got him handcuffed to a tree and his lion stolen? Who was he kidding, he should have expected this a lot sooner. He should have known all those flowery words and kind sentiments that Blue would always spout were just lies to keep him content until she pulled the proverbial rug right out from under his feet.

Shiro was back now, maybe he should just leave, before it was too obvious that he didn't belong. Before someone found him gasping on the floor like the idiot everyone already knew he was. Before he got someone hurt because the best person for the job, wasn't out on the battlefield, because it wasn't him. Maybe he should just go home, or find a new home. Somewhere he didn't have to see their faces again, because seeing them would make him falter, make him regret, make him second guess a fact that was so glaringly obvious. Maybe he should just give up. Red was still sending him waves of heat, and Lance wanted to say that it was helping, but he couldn't. Not when all he was craving was Blue's cold. Not when he desperately needed someone to look him in the eyes and tell him all his paranoia and self doubt was baseless.

Not that he'd believe them. Even if they did say it, they probably wouldn't mean it, his brain kept telling him. They just want to keep you around in case they need you. Who knows, maybe you'll have to pilot Yellow next. What if Hunk gets sick or hurt and they need voltron? Having a handy dandy little replacement could be nice, right? These were thoughts that plagued his mind, they hurt, but with them, his blood ran cold and he only half disliked the feeling of despair that they brought. He hated thinking of himself like that, but these moments of self loathing were the closest he could get to any sort of relief from this incessantly suffocating heat that was Red. Somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind, there was a little voice telling him that he was just being silly and over dramatic. It told him that his friends loved him, but then, the voice was always drowned out by the louder voices that spit acid with their words. Words that he should be used to hearing by now.

How hard would it be to end things here and now? How badly could it hurt to just go back to his room and find some way to end it all? Was he even brave enough to do that? Could he leave the team that vulnerable before Shiro took back over? It really was only a matter of time before that happened though. Could he stand waiting until it did?

Slowly he tried to stand again, and slowly his arms helped pull him back upright. He held himself close to the wall. His chest still ached from the previous lack of air, but he could handle that. It burned like everything else did. The fire in his bones felt the same as the fire in his lungs. Red hurt, but he could endure this much for now. Just for a little bit longer.

Just until they don't need me anymore.

Notes:

I might add another part to this later, I don't know. It just kinda wrote itself so I don't know for sure.

This hasn't been beta'ed yet so if you see any mistakes, please tell me.