Inspired by the song Unsteady by X Ambassadors.

TW- Anxiety, depression. I want to note that anxiety and depression are different for everyone who has them. So really, I don't feel like there's a right or wrong. I based a lot of these on my personal experiences, as well as those of some people close to me.

Hold, hold on,
Hold on to me.
'Cause I'm a little unsteady,
A little unsteady

Hold, hold on,
Hold on to me.
'Cause I'm a little unsteady,
A little unsteady.


Summary- Keith has a panic attack/mental breakdown in the middle of the night, and calls Lance for help.

Keith couldn't breathe. His chest was tight, his lungs burned, and he couldn't help the intense panic flooding his body. He practically fell out of bed, desperate to get out, to get out. He couldn't see, it was dark. It was hard to breathe. He managed to get to the light switch, trying to call out to Shiro, to anyone. He couldn't make his voice work though, all he managed was a pathetic whimper. Keith was scared.

After flipping on the light, he managed to retain some level of rational thinking. Then he remembered, Shiro wasn't home. He had been invited to go with Matt to the midnight showing of a nerd movie that Keith had had no interest in, and had planned to just crash at the Holts' place for the night. So that meant Pidge had gone with them. Okay. So he's alone. Keith couldn't breathe, again.

Who could he call? He managed to find his phone, still on his desk, and tried to press the power button with trembling fingers. His vision became blurry, as tears of frustration welled up, making it even harder to get the stupid thing to turn on.

He wiped his eyes furiously when he succeeded, trying to be able see his contact screen enough that he could decide who to call. Of course, it's not like he has very many contacts. He already knew his only other option, as he didn't really know Hunk well enough yet to call him, though he didn't want to call them. But he couldn't bother Shiro. He was having fun. He had been planing this with Matt for the last week, and who was Keith to mess things up for him? Shiro worried about him enough as it was. No, he couldn't give Shiro any more stress.

He sighed, turning his phone off, trying to figure out if he could just try going back to bed or something. He got his answer in the form of an indescribable, constricting fear crawling its way up his throat. No, he decided, I have to call him. He crawled back into bed, taking his phone with him, trying desperately to ignore any and all thoughts of doubt creeping up into his mind at the thought of calling Lance, and failing miserably.

What if he laughs?

What if he thinks I'm crazy?

What if he never talks to me again?

What if he starts treating me differently?

What if he starts making fun of me?

What if he tells everyone else?

What if they stop liking me?

Keith bit back a strangled sob, he had to stop doing this to himself. It wasn't helping. It was making things worse, but he couldn't stop. The panic, the stress of the past week, his fears and insecurities, they were trying to consume him. He needed... something. He was about to stand up, his body trying to switch to autopilot, when he got ahold of himself.

Before he lost his nerve, he hit the call button. He listened to the dial tone, and wondered if Lance was even awake. The doubts were starting to creep up again, when he heard the familiar click, signaling that someone had picked up.

"Keith?" He sounded confused. Oh, of course; it's fucking 2:30 am. Keith sighed, running his fingers through his hair. Before he got up the nerve to speak, Lance was talking again. "It's 2:30, do you need something...?"

This was a bad idea, he should just hang up. Something's going to go wrong, he should just- "I'm not okay!" He blurted, shocked at his own words filling up the silence on both ends of the line. He swallowed the lump in his throat, running his fingers through his hair again. "I'm, god Lance, I'm not okay," his voice cracked towards the end of it, and he couldn't help feeling frustrated with himself.

What was Lance even supposed to say to that? Keith was being weak, and vague on top of that. Why should Lance care? Why should Lance care about him at all? He didn't need to bother trying to decipher Keith's riddles. He's never really been nice to Lance, so why should he- "I'll be there in less than ten. Don't move. It'll be okay." The line clicked off, and Keith was left staring at the phrase flashing on his phone.

Call ended

Keith sighed, flopping back down on his bed, trying to get himself together at least a little before Lance arrived. He failed spectacularly. All the 'what ifs' kept circulating through his brain, making his chest feel tighter and tighter, and he could feel an ache in his chest. He knew this ache, it was familiar. It happened whenever he was in emotional pain.

It didn't happen often, and it was probably the reason why he tried his best to remain closed off to others, but whenever it did happen, he couldn't bear it. It hurts worse than physical pain, because you can't make it go away. You can't tell your heart to stop hurting. There's no potion for that. No antibiotics, no band-aids, no antiseptic. That's not how it works. All you are left with is an emptiness that stems from stress, anxiety, and hurt.

So all Keith could do was wrap his arms around his pillow, and cry. Maybe Lance would come. Maybe he'd save him from his demons. Maybe, for just one night, he could be okay.


The knock on the door was insistent, and it forced Keith to leave the comfort of his bed. Lance must've remembered the key under the "The Neighbors Have Better Stuff" doormat though, as almost as soon as Keith got his bedroom door open, Lance had thrown open the door to the apartment. They stared at each other for a moment, before Keith lost his balance. Lance jumped forward, barely catching him as they both fell to the hardwood floor.

The tears were in Keith's eyes, down his cheeks, and dripping off his chin, and Lance gently brushed the tears away with the pads of his thumbs. "What's wrong?" He whispered softly, his eyebrows furrowed in worry. "'Cause I swear I'll kill the bastard that made you cry. Only I'm allowed to do that." Lance teased, probably trying to lighten the mood a little.

Keith couldn't help thinking that that was just like Lance, to crack a joke in the middle of a serious moment, and Keith appreciated it. He tried to laugh, but it just came out as a sob, as he cried harder, burying his face in Lance's shoulder.

"S-sorry," He mumbled into Lance's shirt.

"It's fine," Lance shifted, pulling Keith into his lap, cradling him and holding him close. "Besides, I bet you've been holding everything together for a long time. It's okay to be unsteady every once in a while. It's okay to let someone else bear your burdens for a bit." Keith choked out a sob at his friend's kind words, and Lance started petting his hair gently.

"You'll be okay Keith. I've got you." He rocked Keith gently, resting his chin on the raven's head, humming a lullaby. Keith relaxed into the vibrations, as he slowly calmed down. Eventually he stopped crying, but he didn't pull away from Lance. Instead, he cuddled further into him. He was almost asleep, after completely tiring himself out, when Lance spoke gently.

"Are you alright?" Keith had to think a moment, shifting to look up at Lance for a moment, before hiding his face in Lance's shirt once more.

"No," he admitted softly, and Lance had to strain to hear him. "But I'm better, thanks to you..."

He couldn't see Lance's cheeky grin, but he had a feeling it was there. "I'm glad, mullet." The insult had no bite to it, and Keith didn't miss the relief in Lance's tone. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"...Not right now." Keith said, trying to tell Lance that he would, and he was grateful for Lance, but he was too tired to talk after all the crying.

"Alright, how about a movie? We can steal all the blankets and pillows and make a huge pile and sleep right in front of the tv, king of the hill style." Lance grinned, switching gears quickly, and he didn't miss the way Keith's face barely concealed a smile.

"Sure."


Seven hours later, Shiro arrived home to find not one, but two teenagers passed out on top of a massive, yet comfortable blob of bedding in the living room. He couldn't help but note the fact that they were tangled in each other's arms, Keith cuddled into Lance's chest. Shiro raised an eyebrow, curious as to how in the world that had happened, but he chose not to question it. Instead, he pulled his phone out of his pocket, and took a picture of the sight, proceeding to send it to Matt, Pidge, and Hunk.

Once sent, he headed off to his own room, as you don't get any sleep when you spend an evening at the Holt residence. With the possibility of pranks, explosions, or the examining of any and all information contained on your electronic devices (or a mixture of the above) hanging over your head, it gave you an incentive to stay awake.