Something heavy hit the ground, landing with a dull thud. Only two or three heads turned towards the noise, and those that did only saw the girl who had dropped her books being scolded by the librarian. Lance shook his head sympathetically. Next to him, the fast paced clicking of computer keys resumed. Lance turned to the small student to his left.
"Pidge?" He asked quietly, barely above a whisper. They didn't reply, but lance hadn't really expected them too. Pidge Holt was a pretty quiet kid. "Aren't you supposed to be studying?"
"I am." They replied, pushing their glasses up on their nose.
"You're hacking into Prof. Iverson's personal email account."
"Didn't specify what I was studying."
"You're…" he paused, looking them up and down as they gave him a small glare. And really, what did he care if his least favourite professor was compromised? "Whatever."
Pidge smiled and turned back to their computer, most likely looking for more dirt on Iverson. Taking that as a sign that they were done talking, Lance let his vision wander to Hunk. The big guy was sitting across from him at the round library table, nose buried intently in a large black folder. He was wearing a long sleeved yellow t-shirt, a pair of green cargo pants, a black puffy vest was slung over his shoulders, matching his black runners. It wasn't far off from Lance's own outfit, actually. Lance was wearing a white and blue baseball shirt, black jeans and a green canvas jacket.
"What're you working on?" Lance asked, raising his eyebrow at his friend curiously.
"I'm reading the script," Hunk paused to look up at his friends, "shouldn't you guys be too?"
"Studying." Pidge mumbled as they started scrolling through Iversons emails with his wife.
"Yeah, and I got bored." Lance claimed, probably at too loud a volume for the library.
Pidge looked up from their hacking. "And you harp on me for not doing homework? Hypocrite."
"It's a volunteer run play, Holt, not my major."
Hunk paused, raising a hand to his temple. "Aren't you majoring in drama?"
"Yes."
Both of his friends looked at him for longer than was necessary, waiting for him to see the fault in his logic. However, being Lance McClain, he did not.
"Just get back to studying, Lance." Pidge instructed "Then, when you're done, I'll tell you about iversons unhealthy obsession with sewing."
"His WHAT?" Lance cried, earning himself an angry glare from the librarian. "Oh my gosh."
"Do your work, McClain," Pidge repeated, running their left hand through their honey coloured hair, "and you get the deets."
"Done." Lance hissed as he whipped his head back to the large binder in front of him. He was nearly halfway done the blasted thing. It took nearly all his might just to keep track of who was who, what with all the fake identities and love triangles.
The play was one of Shakespeare's comedies, but the language had been modernized, if only slightly. It was called Twelfth Night or What You Will, and was some sort of convoluted love story. And it was hella confusing. All Lance could do was keep track of his own character, Duke Orsino. The Duke was in love with some chick named Olivia, who was in love with some guy, who was actually a girl, who had fallen in love with the Duke. It was getting complicated. Nevertheless, he pushed through, if only for the gossip about his least favourite professor.
"Who plays Viola, again?" Lance looked up from his script to meet Hunk's eyes. It was obvious from the pain on his face he was just as confused with all of this. Viola was the girl who was masquerading as a man named Cesario. She was also the final live interest for Orsino, and Lance was hyper aware that he would have to kiss and 'marry' whoever played the part.
"Dunno. It's in the front. Tell me if it's Jenny." Lance mumbled, turning back to his script. He was trying to remember why he was reading about some dude named Malvolio.
The sound of flipping pages filled the quiet library hall. Pidge snorted.
"I'm not even in the play and I know that." They claimed, tugging at the zipper of their dark green hoodie. They wore it unzipped over a white shirt, with light blue jeans rolled up at the ankles to accommodate for their height (or lack thereof).
"You do?" Hunk's finger scanned down the front page of the folder. "Who is-" he stopped cold, his voice lowering to a confused whisper, "what?!"
Pidge snorted "Didn't see that one coming?" They laughed, turning to glance between Hunk and Lance.
"He's a guy!" Hunk objected, looking at Pidge with horrified eyes.
"A pretty pixie-like guy, you must admit." Pidge shot back, eyes still dancing between the two boys.
"What?" Lance asked desperately, grabbing the script from Hunk's now loose grip, "Who is it?"
A pair of blue eyes searched desperately down the lists of castings, silently cursing the drama Prof. for organizing it alphabetically. Viola's name was near the bottom, with a long line drawing over to the actor's name. Lance's repulsed shriek could be heard from the medical science building, nearly a block away.
"KEITH?!"
"Allura, could you pass the eyeshadow?" Shiro called from the other end of his and Keith's dorm.
"The eyeshadow…" the girl's voice muttered, shuffling through three entire drawers of the stuff, "I'm going to assume that means you want me to just throw the whole quiznacking desk at you."
Keith snorted, trying to fit all of Shiro's ridiculous eyeliner collection in one drawer, a foolish quest. "Why do you need this much makeup anyway? I mean really-" he waved an eyeliner pen at the older boy, "hot pink?"
"Oh!" Allura gasped, yanking the eyeliner pen from Keith's hand "you stole that." She didn't sound shocked in the slightest.
"Need it for the Wonderland Aesthetic." Shiro smiled as he winged the silver eyeliner he was using on Allura, "you can blame Disney for giving the Cheshire Cat pink whiskers."
"Pretty sure they were fuchsia." Keith mumbled as Allura shot up and dashed away before Shiro could take back her eyeliner. He rolled his eyes and looked up at himself in the mirror.
His usually long black hair had been pulled behind his head into a ponytail, with a thin white headband holding his last few stray hairs in place. His dark eyes were rimmed with shimmering mascara, and solid black eyeliner. Sparkling maroon eyeshadow had been dusted onto his eyelids. Gold blush contrasted with the blood red lipstick he wore.
Shiro really had been making use of his classes. He made it pretty clear he was the one majoring in cosmetology. He'd been coating both Keith and Allura in makeup nonstop for the last month. Some big show coming up or something. Keith still had blush and powder foundation clinging to the top of his grey hoodie.
In the reflection he could still see Allura and Shiro wrestling. She was winning by a landslide. He was pinned underneath her, Allura's legs wrapped around his torso. She was doing her best to grab at the pink pen, but due to his additional height, she wouldn't be able to do much in that position. She had taken it upon herself to smudge his eyeliner, so he wasn't going to lay there much longer.
"Jeez," Keith chuckled as he searched for a makeup wipe, "get a room you two."
"Keith, please!" Allura rolled off of Shiro to slap his arm, "stop saying things like that!"
Keith snickered, turning to meet his friend's blue eyes, "I'm joking."
She punched his arm, blushing, "you'd better be." Shiro smiled sweetly behind them, his eyeliner a torrential mess.
"What're you making that face for, Takashi?" Keith inquired, noting how the man's eyes lingered on Allura longer than necessary.
"Nothing~"
Allura reached behind herself and slapped him.
Keith smirked, admiring their little rivalry. He tugged at his cheek as he rubbed the makeup remover over his golden blush. He was half way done when the dorm room slammed open.
A tall Cuban boy with a lilting Spanish accent and ruffled cocoa-coloured hair stormed in, followed by a young student in a dark green hoodie.
"Keith!?" Lance shrieked, running over and grabbing his rival by the shoulders, "Have you read the script?" Lance was panting, obviously tired. Behind him, Pidge held up their phone, apparently recording a video. Shiro and Allura rocketed off the bed, walking over to question Pidge.
"You alright, McClain?" Keith asked, shrugging the younger boy off his shoulders, "What's going on?"
"Have. you. read. the. script." Lance repeated, running his hand through his hair in an attempt to calm himself down.
"Yes? I finished it yesterday." Keith's tone turned to ice, "why?"
"Do you know who you're playing?!" Lance asked desperately. Keith stared at him in confusion, wondering if this was some sort of joke about how he was playing a girl. It would be a very Lance-y thing to do. But… McClain looked terrified, shocked, even… embarrassed? Lance McClain looked embarrassed. That was probably the only way Keith knew this wasn't some prank.
"Cesario. Viola." He lowered his tone, "W.h.y." Surely Lance had known that. Surely Lance knew -
Lance screamed. Just flat-out shrieked.
"Lance!?" Shiro cried, covering his ears. Pidge was laughing their head off in the corner, "Pidge?!"
"WHY!" Lance yelled, falling to his knees, "WHYYY!?"
"What the heck McClain? What's wrong?" Keith pulled the taller boy to his feet, glaring him straight in the eyes.
Lance looked at him, eyes confused, face flushed. His words came out dry.
"We're getting married."
"I must've misheard you..." Keith hissed. He looked like he actually believed that, "cause I could swear you just said we were getting married."
"I'm Duke Orsino. You're Cesario." Lance whispered, barely audible, "Who is also Viola," he shook his head, looking repulsed, "Who I... marry."
Behind him, Pidge lowered their camera, seeming a little disappointed that there hadn't been more drama involved.
"I can't marry you!" Lance cried, still glaring at Keith indignantly.
"'marry'" Keith corrected, raising his hands next to his face, making air quotes.
He looked stupid like that, his left hand still holding a makeup covered wipe, the right side of his face still covered in red and gold makeup. His grey and red Green Day sweatshirt was dusted lightly with foundation and... blush, maybe? His black jeans were ripped at the knees, the skin underneath scuffed, probably from the last time he got into a fight. His black and grey combat boots were torn at the tops, somehow, and a few of the hooks were missing.
Keith hurriedly wiped down the rest of his face. He didn't quite get all of it, leaving a few smudges of red eyeshadow and gold blush on his cheeks. He seemed too pissed to care, jabbing his finger at Lance's chest.
"You," He stated, "are not the Duke."
Lance took a step back, if only to get away from the fingernail that had been digging into his pec. He looked Keith over, wondering what he had meant by that.
"I am, though." He said, gently lifting a hand to rub the spot that had been jabbed.
"Not anymore. Change. You're acting like this is the first time you've read the script. That means you haven't memorized anything." Keith placed his hands gently on his hips, "so change."
Shiro shook his head at the notion. "Can't be that simple. The director won't just change the casting because you guys hate each other."
Allura nodded, smirking a little, "Anyway, I'm not quite sure I believe that you don't want to." A makeup wipe hit her on the nose a second after she finished talking, thrown by a certain emo wearing a Green Day hoodie.
"Just 'cause I'm gay doesn't mean I like every guy I come across," Keith complained, "but fine. You want proof, I'll take McClain and go ask right now."
"Have fun, lovebirds!" Pidge called, smiling smugly.
"Ugh." Keith grumbled, grabbing Lance by the wrist firmly, dragging him roughly through the dorm room door. He glanced back at the room, not ever having gotten a good look at it before this.
Different '90s band memrobilia was plastered against the wall, which had been painted a dark grey. The two beds were in opposite corners, covered in two very distinct sets of sheets. One of them was covered in grey, purple and white leaves. The other one was black, and displayed a pair of red headphones, the cord swirling across the cover. There was a small table in the closest corner, covered in every imanigable textbook. Keith, being who he was, had also tried taking a teaching class. Said something about becoming a drama teacher. Not to be a downer, but Lance couldn't really imagine Kogane being a good teacher.
And then the door shut, and Lance was being dragged along the hallway by his wrist. Lance straightened himself, smoothing out his clothes and prying himself free of Keith's death grip.
Keith's plan was good. It made sense. Lance didn't know any of his lines, he hadn't even finished reading the script. They could plead with the Professor, and maybe Lance could get another role. If he couldn't, he could always quit. Except... he'd worked so hard to be one of the main characters. He'd wanted desperately to work up his credits. This was such a big step towards his degree. This was going to be amazing. It was going to be fun to spend time with his friends, and feel the lights. Not that he wouldn't get to if they changed his role, it was just...
"Wait." Lance grabbed Keith's arm and pulled him back, face to face. "No."
"No what?" Keith hissed, looking impatient.
"I'm not throwing away my role for you." Lance claimed firmly.
"What?"
"I am not ruining my best chance at my degree because of you, mullet."
"Lance-"
"This is mine." Lance said, steely determination, "You step down, or no one does."