A/N: Hey guys! So basically I just watched the episode Crystal Venom, and it got me all inspired, so I got this idea annnnd . . . yeah. I got the idea for this fic when I saw the part when Lance gets trapped in a cyro chamber and then nearly gets sucked out the air lock (my poor baby!) I wouldn't be surprised if those events caused him to have claustrophobia. I got the title from Guillotine by Jon Bellion (it is AMAZING, trust me) and figured the lyrics fit, so here ya go. This is based on my own personal experiences with claustrophobia and panic attacks, but I am aware that not everybody reacts the same. Hope you enjoy it! Please review if you liked it!

Warnings: Contains swearing, panic attacks, and making out. Also, so fluffy it might just give you cavities.

"Sleep on me, feel the rhythm in my chest, just breathe

I will stay so the lantern in your heart won't fade

The secrets you tell me I'll take to my grave

There's bones in my closet, but you hang stuff anyway

And if you have nightmares, we'll dance on the bed

I know that you love me, love me

Even when I lose my head

Guillotine."

After being attacked by a rogue training droid only a few weeks ago, Keith had always been a little wary of the castle since.

So he really shouldn't of been surprised when he found himself locked in his own closet.

Keith was just minding his own business in his bedroom when Lance McClain, possessor of the most inflated ego Keith had ever come across, burst in.

Keith rolled his eyes at Lance's overly dramatic entrance. "Can I help you?"

"This is a predicament!" announced Lance.

Keith was immediately on alert. "What? Are the Galra attaching the castle?"

"What?" Lance looked confused. "No. But Coran mixed up our laundry and put my jacket in with your clothes, and I want it back."

Keith sighed, pushing himself off his bed and walking over to the closet. "Let me check." He checked through his clothes, which were mostly black t-shirts and black leggings. Therefore, he immediately spotted Lance's signature jacket and leaned in to grab it. "Here it is -"

Lance shoved Keith out of the way. "Honestly!" He pulled out Keith's favorite scarlet jacket. "I just don't get this jacket. It doesn't even cover your entire body!"

Protectively, Keith tried to snatch his jacket off of Lance. "Hey! Lay off! It's my jacket."

"Somebody get this poor orphan a proper jacket," muttered Lance, critically examining the clothing item.

Anger flared inside Keith. "Give it back!" he snapped, making a lunge for Lance.

Lance automatically dodged, but Keith tripped over his foot and toppled forward. Both boys were knocked into the closet as the door slammed shut behind them, leaving them in the closet, their limbs tangled together.

Keith groaned, pushing himself off the floor. The soft fabric of his t-shirts tickled his face as he knelt up, eyes adjusting to the artificial light. "You okay?"

Lance checked himself over. "Yeah, I think so." There was a pause as they both fully absorbed the situation, in which Lance added irritably, "Well? Aren't you gonna open the door?"

"I was going to," grumbled Keith, managing to locate the doorknob. He turned it, fully expecting the door to swing open, but it refused to budge.

Keith threw his entire weight against the door, trying to break it down, but nothing happened. He slid to the ground with a defeated grunt. "It's stuck!"

"What?!" Lance's voice was more than concerned - it was positively fearful. "Let me try!"

Lance rattled the doorknob and jammed his shoulder against the door, but no luck.

"We're just gonna have to wait until somebody finds us," said Keith defeatedly, sitting opposite Lance in the floor. Even though it was stuffy and cramped and he was so close to Lance he could feel the other's breath on his lashes, it could be worse. They could be trapped inside a Galra ship. Their lions could have been captured. They -

Keith's train of thought was cut off by Lance's panicky, "Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck."

Keith worriedly took in Lance's wide eyes and the way he drew his knees up to his chest, pressed into a corner. His breaths were becoming quicker and shallower.

"Lance?" asked Keith softly, reaching out for his friend/rival, but Lance flinched away from his touch. "Lance, what's wrong?"

"I -" Lance's voice was shaky. He gulped and continued. "Don't like it. Don't like s-small spaces. At all."

"You mean you're . . . claustrophobic?" The word seemed foreign on Keith's lips.

Lance was visibly shaking now. "Keith. I don't like it - I don't like it. Get me out of here, p-please."

Keith tried to think his way logically around this situation, like Shiro would have. "Um, I don't mean to be rude or anything, but this just doesn't make sense," he said carefully. "If you really are claustrophobic then you never would've gotten into the Garrison. It's one of the first things they check in the entrance exams, and once you get to the practical level, it's not exactly something you can hide."

Suddenly, Keith felt terribly guilty. What was he doing, demanding answers when Lance was nearing a full-blown panic attack? How could he be so stupid?

"Wait, don't answer that," he quickly rectified. Keith dropped to his knees in front of Lance. "Just look at me."

Lance was about to shake his head, but Keith cupped his face in his hands and tilted it up so their eyes met.

"I'm right here," said Keith softly, feeling a rush of affection for the younger boy. "I'm not going anywhere."

Lance nodded the slightest bit, as his breaths became calmer -

And that was when the lights flickered out.

Keith's heart stopped and suddenly Lance was gasping for air like he had been underwater for far too long, and Keith was full on panicking himself because Lance couldn't breathe and Keith was no doctor.

Keith always acted on his emotions rather than logic, which made sense to why he leaned forward, hands still cupping Lance's face and pressed his mouth against his.

He felt Lance's breath catch as he tensed, and Keith breathed as slowly and purposefully as he could.

Come on, Lance, match my breathing.

Finally, Lance started to inhale when Keith exhaled and vice versa, until he thought it was safe to lean back, breaking apart until there was about a foot of space between them.

Quickly, Keith muttered, "You weren't breathing," as he felt his ears and cheeks heat up, and secretly thanked the darkness.

Well, Lance was breathing normally now, so mission accomplished.

When Lance didn't say anything in return, Keith realized that he should probably give an explanation on why he sorta-kinda-maybe kissed the boy who was meant to be his rival.

"Well, I'm not CPR certified," said Keith with a touch of awkwardness, and quiznak he wasn't good in these sorts of situations. "So I had to improvise and I'm sorry, I shouldn't have -"

But suddenly Lance grabbed his collar, and pulled Keith towards him and kissed him again.

Keith was beyond shocked at this point, so he tried to focus on the little details, like how Lance smelled of salt and rainwater, a cuprous scent of soil and waterlogged vegetation. How his lips felt cool against Keith's own. How he could feel Lance smiling into their kiss.

Not really thinking about it, Keith's hand drifted down and intertwined with Lance's. His fingers were nice: long and thin and calloused, the sort you naturally wanted to interlace with your own. So that was what Keith did.

They broke apart again, mostly for air. And after a pause, Lance muttered, "It started after the Garrison."

Keith was silent.

"That day the castle was acting up . . ." Lance took a deep, unsteady breath and Keith worried he might start hyperventilating again. "I got trapped inside a cyro chamber and it wouldn't let me out and then I nearly got sucked out of that stupid air lock." Lance let out a bitter laugh. "So I became claustrophobic. There. Go on. Laugh."

"I'm not laughing," said Keith gently. "Does it feel better now? Do you need to lie down?"

"There's not enough space to lie down," Lance protested, but Keith guided his head to rest on his chest. Keith just lay there, with Lance's body on top of his, right cheek against Keith's chest.

"Just the feel the rhythm in my chest," Keith whispered to Lance, thinking that this could help him calm down. "Just breathe."

Lance's hand found his again almost seamlessly, like they were both opposite ends of magnets that were attracted to one another. And Keith didn't want to speak too soon, but he thought that Lance might, might just be asleep.

That was how Pidge found them: Lance's head on Keith's chest, holding hands, the lanky boy snoring softly.

"How the hell did you guys end up in here? We've been looking for you everywhere -" demanded Pidge, before they took in their compromising position. "Oh. Oh. I see how it is, then."

Lance jolted awake, eyes snapping open. "No, Pidge, we were just -"

"I don't want to hear your bull excuses," said Pidge irritably. "It's late and I'm exhausted. I'm just glad we found you."

Lance clambered to his feet as he grabbed his jacket, and he looked so free to be out of Keith's closet. Keith reluctantly climbed out, joints cracking.

"Wait. Did you guys -"

"Kiss?" said Lance, cutting Pidge off. "I'm afraid that's just between me and Keith. Right?"

"Right!" Keith repeated quickly, not being able to bear the inevitable teasing that was sure to come from the others if they found out.

Pidge raised their eyebrows suspiciously. "Mmmm-hmmm." They didn't sound convinced.

"Well, I'm dead beat. Off to bed." Lance sauntered to the door, but behind Pidge's back he mouthed to Keith, Love you, Mullet.

Keith was pretty sure that Pidge saw the huge grin on his face.