It's strange how much the lack of collision manages to feel just like a physical blow.

He had survived, by some insane stroke of luck he was alive, and the team was saved. It felt like cheating somehow; he was supposed to die. He was supposed to die for them. No one knew it though. Lotor came to the ship, which meant Keith started staying there too. There was a distant comfort in coming home, but not one he could focus on right now. He felt like a ghost wandering the halls, returning to his bedroom late at night like he had before. Everything is cold and far away.

Lance is the first to notice something had changed. Shiro and Allura had their hands full with negotiations and their unexpected guest. Pidge, Hunk, and Matt had been working almost non-stop on repairs and upgrades. Of course, they had all been overjoyed at Keith's return, but after the initial welcome they are back to business as usual and he is mostly left to his own devices. He doesn't mind it much, isn't too sure he could stomach having to look them in the eye and pretend everything is fine when he feels so hollow. It's meal times that are the hardest. They always manage to find the time to sit down and eat together, the one routine they stick to religiously every single day. If someone is missing from dinner they may as well have gone to sign up as Zarkon's right hand man, it was regarded as a personal betrayal of the group. Keith barely manages to force down his food with the unspoken words crawling up from inside his chest and threatening to choke him.

"Hey Keith, wait up!" he hears Lance call out from behind him after one such dinner. He dutifully stops, turning and pausing for him to catch up.

"Everything okay?" Keith asks, a little caught off guard at being stopped. Usually he was able to make a hasty retreat to his room after eating a socially acceptable amount of food without much interference.

"I was going to ask you the same thing," Lance responds, falling into step with Keith as he continues down the hall "you seemed a little off at dinner tonight."

"Oh," Keith is dumbstruck for a moment, brain whirring as he tries to process the best response in this situation. His first instinct is to lie, to continue pretending that he's okay. He hadn't expected anyone to notice the internal conflict he had been facing since that final battle.

"I'm okay, I guess. Just tired?" it sounds unconvincing, even to his own ears.

"You sure, man?" he sounds doubtful, genuine concern now plain on his face.

"Uh- yeah. I'm sure." Keith doesn't know when he became such a bad liar. He doesn't even know why he's lying in the first place; all he has thought about since the battle is the things he should have done, the things he should have said. Now, here he was with a golden opportunity to get this all off his chest and he was throwing it away.

"Look, it's obvious something is wrong. I guess you don't want to talk to me about it, but promise me you'll talk to someone? I can go get Shiro, or Allura, or something?"

"Lance, thank you, really, but it's fine."

He looks conflicted for a moment, but ultimately decides to drop it for now "Hm, okay. Does it feel good to be back on the ship? You haven't really told us what it was like when you were away."

Keith is simultaneously grateful and resentful of the transition into slightly lighter small talk. "It was cold. I guess the Blade of Mamora doesn't believe in central heating or something, I was literally always freezing on their base. I slept with like six blankets."

This earns a snort from Lance, sparking something in Keith he can't quite identify. "Wow, really? I bet that tiny impractical jacket of yours didn't do much to keep you warm either." He says, smiling playfully, nudging Keith in the side as they walk.

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with my jacket!"

"Keith, buddy, it's literally not even half of a jacket. There's no way it has ever kept you warm, even once. You should try my jacket, much more practical."

"Come on then, hand it over." Keith jokingly demands, shocked when Lance actually starts to slip out of his signature jacket. He never fails to catch him off guard, constantly surprising Keith in seemingly every conversation they have. Part of him feels as though he should stop him, let him know that he wasn't serious, but he'd be lying to himself if he said he didn't want the comfort of the warm and familiar jacket; Keith is weak, and tired, he doesn't quite have it in him to deny himself tonight.

Lance is smiling as Keith slips his arms through the sleeves "See? Much warmer, isn't it?"

Heat is definitely blooming in Keith, starting somewhere in his chest and washing through him like waves. All he can do is nod and agree as they fall back into step and continue down the hall. When they reach Keith's bedroom, just next door to Lance's, he expects him to ask for the jacket back. A small, childish part of him wants to dart inside and slam the door before he can, unwilling to part with it just yet. He doesn't get the chance to make his retreat, as Lance throws an arm round his shoulder, momentarily holding him rooted to the spot. It's only for a second or two, enveloping his frame and squeezing in a friendly gesture of affection.

"Goodnight, Keith." Lance says, voice soft and casual with a small smile as he walks on to his own room. As though he hadn't just set butterflies racing in Keith's stomach and left tingles running along his shoulder blades in every spot he had touched.

"Goodnight." He whispers back too late, Lance is already several feet away at this point. He hears him somehow, and turns so he's walking backwards for a few steps with a little wave just for Keith.

For a moment, Keith isn't thinking about what could have happened, what was supposed to happen in that final battle. For a moment, he isn't a dead man walking. He's just Keith, he's here, and he's okay. He walks into his room, not bothering to flick the light switch on as he heads straight for his bed. Since he had gotten back he'd avoided going to sleep as much as possible, scared of what the nightmares would bring. Tonight, he just wants to lay down.

He rolls onto his side, facing the wall that his bed is pressed against. He'll probably be too warm trying to sleep with Lance's jacket on, but he's entirely disinclined to take it off just yet. On the other side of this wall, Lance is there, jacketless. Not that he'd be wearing it right now. Keith can picture him, tucked up in bed with his bright blue pyjamas on. It's strange to think the only thing between them right now is a thin, beige wall, yet comforting nonetheless. When Keith closes his eyes, he can almost imagine that Lance is in here with him. He drifts off to sleep, breathing in everything Lance that surrounds him.