LANGSTWHYNOTs FIC(it was for langstwhynot on tumblr and my tumblr died so here i am)
Blood warning, terrorist attack warning, death warning. (dont get used to warnings you should expect stuff like that from me)
Keith glanced over. Lance was sitting on the couch, scrolling through presumably Instagram with his headphones in. He had gotten the idea to take Lance out to the movies for their one year. He wasn't a sentimentalist, don't get it wrong, but he felt that Lance would appreciate it if Keith showed he remembered to do something besides just make eggs in the morning.
"Hey, babe." Keith said. When Lance ignored him, he raised his voice.
"Oh shit, what's up?" He asked.
"What movie do you want to see? Mothman 3, Santa Monica, or they're rerunning John Wick."
"Mmmh. Which John Wick movie?"
"The first."
"Eh, that one kinda sucked. What was Santa Monica about? A shooting?"
"No that's Jamestown. Santa Monica was about the kid who went to school with a bomb but didn't blow it up."
"Didn't she have like, enough explosive power to destroy that entire part of the city?"
"No, that was Eastwall. He was just a copycat wishing for attention."
Lance nodded. "Yeah, let's see that one. I don't want to get emotional during Mothman 3."
Keith rolled his eyes. He knew Lance wasn't joking. They had gone to the premiere or Mothman 2, and he cried like a baby at the end. "Okay, two tickets for Santa Monica at seven."
"Oh man, that means I need a shower." Lance groaned. He flopped back on the couch, still keeping a steady hum of solid ugh.
"Come on, Lance, just do it. You'll be in there for two hours anyways."
Lance groaned louder as he got up and went to get around for his shower.
*magic time skip for a lazy author bc all keith did was change into his green day shirt and get shoes on*
"Green Day?" Lance asked when he came out into the living room.
"It was this or Pierce the Veil."
"Nice to know you're the real Keith. No one else could be that emo and still adorable."
Keith blushed as Lance walked out of the room. He still wasn't used to how he would seem to start a fight, but it was actually a compliment. Not in a creepy abusive way, but an endearing way. Keith knew how much Lance truly loved him, and how the insults were just habit from when he was intimidated.
Keith still held that over Lance.
"It's about four now, we have three hours until the movie." Keith looked up from his phone. "Wanna go to that one bakery on South and Main?"
Lance's eyes lit up. "You bet," he grabbed his jacket, hardly containing a grin. Keith loved that smile. The realness of it, not the fake one he gave in pictures, not the one he calls up when he's feeling down. No, Keith fell for the wide grin that radiated pureness.
"Come on, lover-boy." Keith said, grabbing his own jacket from the peg.
"Wait!" He cried. Keith turned. "Your jacket doesn't go with your outfit, wear this one." Lance said, holding out a plain black zip up.
"God, you're annoying." Keith complained, switching jackets.
"Yeah, but you still love me." He sang, pulling Keith out of the door.
Keith laughed as Lance excitedly pulled him down the stairs and out onto the sidewalk. Lance held Keith's hand, drawing circles on the back of it. Keith smiled softly. Lance was too good to him. He hardly disappointed and was so fun loving and outrageous he brought out the little bit of Lance in Keith.
"Seven o'clock, Lance." Keith said, looking up from his plate.
"Oh shit, is it time?"
"Not quite. It's six thirty, but we might want to hurry up."
Lance nodded and started to shovel food down his throat.
Keith laughed. "Don't choke."
Lance rolled his eyes, and in a very bad impression of T'Challa, he said, "I never choke."
"You did last night."
Lance spluttered and coughed on his mashed potatoes. "Did you- did you just- did you just make a dick joke?"
Keith laughed at how shook Lance was, making him go even higher.
"You did! Oh my god, miracles do happen."
"Shut up and eat your food."
Lance continued to flip out, but slightly less obviously. He shook his head and muttered, "Keith made a dick joke. He said it."
"Come on, let's go pay." Keith said after he had finished overreacting.
The theatre was just across the street, and a small line of people were waiting to get their tickets. "Ready for stale popcorn and low-quality butter?" Lance asked.
"I like move theater popcorn," Keith said, confused.
"Dear Lord, who am I dating?" Lance asked, mocking prayer.
"Shut up," Keith sassed. "It's our turn."
Paying for their tickets, they got two medium popcorns.
"Keith, if you put any more butter and salt on that you'll have a heart attack." Lance said, watching as Keith poured more butter and loaded on more salt.
"This isn't even a lot. Shiro puts more on."
"Yeah, well, then you both have a death wish." Lance said. "We can literally come back out for more, chill."
"Whatever, let's go in."
Lance took Keith's hand and walked with him to theater 2. The lights were just going out as they sat down somewhere in the back. A preview for Mothman 3, some trivia, and a few more local commercials. Keith could feel Lance getting distracted.
"Why are theaters so cold?" Keith complained, shivering in his jacket. "I swear they amp up the ac."
"Here, I like it." Lance said, taking off his jacket.
"I'm fine, Lance, keep your jacket on," Keith started.
"No, it's okay," Lance said, giving Keith the jacket.
Blushing, Keith put it on. Lance was taller than him, and Keith looked at the too long sleeves and hood. He smiled slightly, leaning his head on Lance's shoulder. "Happy one year, babe."
Lance smiled, fingers lacing themselves in Keith's. "Happy one year."
Keith lifted his head when the movie started. The THX sound echoed through the theater, reminding Keith of all the movie marathons he and Lance have had over the past year.
The movie was boring. Girl gets bullied, is in a distracted home, decides to end her life and take down her place of torment. Keith mostly watched Lance. He didn't care about the movie, it was all clichéd. Lance, however, wasn't. His reactions varied from trying not to laugh, to sympathy, to empathy, to sadness, then back to trying to bite back laughter. He was perfect, and Keith couldn't have been more happy knowing that this was just the first year.
"Hey, I'm getting more butter and salt." Keith leaned in and whispered.
Lance raised his eyebrows.
"I literally have plain popcorn. I'll be back." Keith said saltily.
"Don't have a heart attack." Lance whispered back, shit eating grin on his face.
Keith scoffed, but went out of the theater as quietly as he could. He passed someone with a thick, winter coat on, who was going to his theater. Again, he was thankful for Lance and how he had given Keith his jacket to borrow.
Don't have a heart attack. Lance's words echoed in Keith's head. Of course, he thought of the perfect thing to say now that he was out here by the popcorn butter machine.
Before Keith could press the button, he heard screams from the back of the theater. His heart sped up. Was it just the movie? No, jump scares wouldn't have such length to the screams. He dropped his popcorn, running towards the theater. Lance.
Time slowed down as the blast went off. He was thrown back, a sound so impossibly loud that it wasn't there at all. He heard, or rather felt, walls being blown out, the theater collapsing.
And just like that, it was over. He was sprawled on the hallway floor with the now dry wall dust covered carpet from the 80's. A section of wall was over him, forming a large, scary lean-to out of concrete bricks. He gasped for breath, pulling the sleeve of Lance's jacket over his mouth and nose.
Lance! Keith got to his feel, eyes watering. He felt something hot trickling down the side of his face but didn't even wipe it off. He had to make sure Lance was okay. Fear settled in his gut and started turning it cold and hard. Turning over the concrete he could, Keith stumbled through the wreckage, calling out to Lance, hoping against hope there was a response. Again, and again he turned, hoping to see something, anything to confirm Lance was alive.
Rescue teams had been alerted- he faintly heard the sirens. He scrabbled through the flaming wreckage, hoping to find some evidence of his boyfriend.
After what seemed like hours, he came upon the back wall, or rather the remains of the back wall, of the theater. He looked, finding the row they had been in just ten minutes ago, holding hands. Heaving a seared chair, he found him.
"No," Keith muttered, eyes widening. "No, no, no!" He started to scream, hugging Lance's limp form, eyes staring ahead, look of surprise and fear permanently etched on his face. Unwelcome memories flashed through Keith's mind. Their first kiss at Veradero beach. Lance teaching him how to surf. Laughing at Lance's drunken words. Comforting him when his father died. Lance was so alive, so full of joy, he wasn't- he couldn't be-
Keith howled into the night, cry mixing with the sirens. He couldn't stop, he sobbed into Lance's shirt, wishing, hoping, daring him to not be gone, to insult his hair or fashion. Just, please, do anything besides be gone. He didn't even know what was happening, he only knew that maybe, if he said the right thing, if he cried enough tears, that Lance's would wake up, laugh it off, kiss him just one more time.
He didn't know how long he had been there, begging, screaming until he lost his voice, then just muttering the desperate whispers of a man in mourning.
Faintly, he heard someone asking him to please let go of the body. "He's- he's not dead," Keith muttered, grip tightening.
"Sir, please, let go of him." Someone said again.
"Keith, it's okay." An impossibly soft voice said. Keith whipped his head around so fast he cracked his neck.
"Okay, Shiro? This is okay? Lance is- he- he's not." Keith finished weakly. New, silent tears fell down Keith's dirty cheeks. He felt himself shake, keeping in the screams he so desperately wanted to let go.
Someone took Lance from Keith's arms. "W- wait!" He protested weakly. "He's not- he's not gone! He- he isn't dead!" Keith lunged after Lance, but Shiro held him back. Keith broke down, wishing for nothing more then to be next to Lance one last time.