Summary: The pushing and pulling of the blue waves against the white sand brought pain and regret. "There was so much that I could have done…" The murmur was hardly louder than the breeze ruffling his hair. "Yet I failed… I failed and there's nothing I can do to fix it." the whisper danced along the breeze of the endless white sand beach. A hand cupping a face, a blank whisper, a forgotten name.
Disclaimer: I only own the plot, Voltron does not belong to me, nor do the characters!
It was chaos, nothing had been going to plan, and despite how good they were at finding a way, something always goes wrong.
They shouldn't have thought they could get out of the final battle without losing something…
Or someone.
One minute, they were jokingly throwing insults, the next, it was laser gun fire, and swarms of Glara grunts. They formed Voltron, and easily took out the smaller Glara ships, and focused on the ringmaster…
Then, the real battle started, aboard the Galra ship. There was so much gunfire, and Shiro was doing as best he could to protect and fight.
There was no one protecting him, and when that Galra soldier made that lucky shot, the rest of them were terrified it would take out their leader.
Then there was blue and white… Then red.
Keith shuddered as he hugged himself. There were things he saw, he heard, he felt, that would forever haunt him.
Time seemed to never end, the memories threatened to tear at his mind, his will power, his peace. The ice cold claws of dread and the oddly heavy feeling of emptiness seemed to suffocate him. It was a horrible feeling, something he never truly felt before.
The pushing and pulling of the blue waves against the white sand brought pain and regret. He felt Loneliness, abandonment, self-hatred and even jealousy of companionship he's never had. But this overbearing feeling of having something stolen, something precious taken, something important ripped away, like the only source of light snuffed out in a dark room.
"There was so much I could have done…" The murmur was hardly louder than the breeze ruffling his hair. "Yet I failed… I failed and there is nothing I can do to fix it." the whisper danced along the breeze of the endless white sand beach.
A hand cupping a face, one he no longer felt, but remembered just as much as the day the Galra Empire fell.
A bitter breeze danced across the winds, and the blue waves pulled back, the sparkling ocean deepening, a crimson flood painting the white sand pink.
Keith took a breath, his eyes watering and blurring the image before him. The tan skin, brown hair, blue eyes, and soft smile. Choking back a sob, Keith reached a shaking hand up to his cheek, the same one resting in the palm of the other's hand.
Lips moved, a blank whisper dancing along the breeze, and the face blurred as Keith's hand touched his own cheek, the tan hand fading, not really there.
A forgotten name fell from shivering lips, the endless beach shimmering out of existence. Agony and sadness ripping through the already injured soul.
Crimson traded with blue, the Galra's shot missing its original target, and the echoed scream followed by a swing of revenge.
The Galra falling, and the battle turning, but the loss already done.
"LANCE!"
Never had red seemed so bitter, the pride long gone.
A/N: Well that was the best I managed on such short time. I have assignments I shouldn't be neglecting, but this idea had to written, and I'm in the mood for writing angst and tragedy, though this kinda seems more like Hurt/Comfort, but whatever. Hope you liked it, and don't leave flames, I don't want to deal with necessary hate.
I know it's short and messy, but I'm not planning to go through and edit or anything. This is kind of just it.