Author's Note: I'm so excited for this chapter. Intrigue. Drama. Frustration. And . . something I've been laying hints for since the very first chapter. I can't tell you how satisfying it is to finally put it out there. I want you all to be momentarily shocked and then go, "oh yeah, I should have known."
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Degrees of Separation
The Friday Lance woke to was almost completely unchanged from the Friday before. It was quiet; he was alone. But everything was different now. At first, all Lance could do was cuddle under his quilt, staring at the sunlight peeking in from between the blinds, making connections. It was a lengthy process starting with how he couldn't really feel his body since it seemed to have melted deliciously into his mattress. He'd forgotten what it felt like to be comfortable and rested. Flipping over, Lance hugged his pillow, shoving his face deep into it and inhaling . . . Keith. His pillow still smelled like Keith. Which reminded him.
Where was Keith? Where had he slept? Because all the options in the apartment that weren't Lance's bed were awful. Lance knew. He'd tried them all. And even though waking up alone in his room was actually normal, it filled Lance with dread. He wasn't supposed to be waking up alone here. He knew if he fell asleep that Keith would leave. Lance threw off the quilt, searching his room for Keith's duffel bag. He wasn't surprised, though he was disappointed, to see that it was gone. He thought he remembered Keith promising not to disappear. So much for that. This certainly looked like disappearing, though apparently not without a trace.
Getting up and dressed in new scrubs brought to Lance's attention all the other differences in the room besides Keith's missing bag. Lance's backpack was sitting on the desk. His scrubs from last night were draped over his chair, drying and spotless. Keith really did know how to get blood stains out. Lance could also now smell the coffee brewing; Keith must have put that together last night too.
Lance paused, returning to sit on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees and his face in his hands, coming to terms with last night. There wasn't much to work with, only a few images and sensations. Blood down the drain. Disjointed voices. Heat. Lance groaned. He'd been so out of it. How embarrassing. No wonder Keith left.
His phone chirped from his desk, plugged in and fully charged. Another errand Lance hadn't done that Keith must have. But why was Lance receiving texts; it was still pretty early. Or maybe it wasn't. Lance wasn't even sure what time it was. Overcome with curiosity, Lance stood up to check both the time and the text.
I didn't disappear. Go back to SLEEP.
Now Lance had the phone in both hands. Keith. How did he know that Lance had woken up? The timing was ridiculous. Maybe he was still here somewhere? Maybe he had slept on the couch? As Lance made his way through the apartment, he didn't find Keith, but he did see that he had certainly left his mark on the place. The scrubs on Lance's chair was just the beginning of what Keith had done while Lance slept.
Lance's coat and shoes had been picked up and set out neatly on the camp chair and entrance rug. Keith's medication was gone from the kitchen counter along with the rest of the Gatorade from the fridge. The antibiotic ointment was sitting on top of the coffeemaker, an obvious indication that Keith meant for Lance to take care of his back before drinking any. But for that, Lance would need help; he just couldn't reach. He looked at his phone again, at the text Keith had sent him a few minutes ago, and started typing a response, then decided he had too much to say and actually dialed his number instead. Though there wasn't much point. Just like every other time Lance had tried to contact Keith by phone, there was no answer.
Where are you? Lance texted, getting a little frustrated. He had way more questions than that, but he figured he'd just start with one. He wanted to ask him why he'd left, where he spent the night, if he was ok, but that seemed a little desperate and crazy. And Keith had already seen way too much crazy from Lance lately. Keith had programmed Lance not to expect an answer right away when he texted, but Lance thought things might be different now, so he sat there at the table with his coffee, just staring at the phone.
He was still sitting there when Hunk joined him.
"Hey, Lance, you're up. How'd you sleep?" Lance's roommate also helped himself to Keith's coffee, pulling up the other chair and looking over Lance with friendly interest. His open face free of judgment, just sincere one-hundred-percent Hunk.
"Hunk, I am so sorry," Lance apologized, remembering coming home last night drenched in Hunk's kryptonite. "I was trying to help you yesterday if you can believe it."
"No sweat. At least you're back to speaking in complete sentences," Hunk dismissed, absently picking up the antibiotic that Lance had brought with him to the table. "Keith says I'm supposed to help you with this. And you could have asked me earlier, you know."
Lance swallowed what he'd been going to say. I didn't want to put anyone out, and it's ok because I don't really need it. But he'd already tried ignoring this, and that wasn't going all that well for him, so obviously the best way to not have to deal with it anymore was to hurry up and deal with it. But then again.
"How?" Lance asked, trying to figure out how Hunk could even look at the wound without getting all woozy and weird again. "Apparently, I'm a mess."
"I'll be quick," Hunk said, casual. Like it was no problem. "Let me see."
Lance groaned, mostly for show, and slipped his scrub top up around his shoulders, leaning forward over the table to give Hunk easy access. Hunk sort of whistled through his teeth, then it seemed he held his breath, proving good on his word as he hurriedly began applying antibiotic while Lance did his best not to squirm under his hands. The ointment was unexpectedly freezing, and Hunk didn't do it the same way Keith did. Though Lance knew his roommate was being gentle, it didn't feel that way. He suspected that Hunk wasn't actually looking at what he was doing. It was more like Hunk was applying the antibiotic the same way as he would sunscreen, covering Lance's entire back so he wouldn't have to look. Lance guessed it was effective. As Hunk worked, Lance tried to distract them both, finding a good opportunity when he saw the radio on the table. It looked different than before, upgraded.
"Is this almost finished?" Lance asked, refocusing Hunk's mental awareness to something that wasn't his scraped up, infected back. "It looks like you did more stuff to it."
"I think it's done," Hunk mused, his voice still strong. Maybe this chat was working. Or maybe he had his eyes closed, who knew? "Guess we'll find out tomorrow. We worked on it quite a bit yesterday while we were waiting for you. Keith put the new dial in."
Lance immediately turned the radio so he could see the dial. It wasn't elegant by any means, but it did look complicated. Huh. Getting blood stains out of clothes, making coffee, engineering dialing mechanisms on amateur radios. Keith was a man of many, and rather varied, talents.
"I didn't know Keith could do that," Lance commented, staring at his handiwork without fully comprehending how it was done.
"Oh yeah. It's completely different now that he can sit up for more than five minutes at a time," Hunk answered. "He's actually a pretty cool guy. Kind of broody, but cool."
"Too bad he left," Lance huffed, unable to hide his disappointment about it.
"Dude, it's not like he's gone forever," Hunk countered, tugging down Lance's shirt, successfully finished with the medicine without incident. Thank goodness. "It'll probably be like with Pidge, you know, in and out. I invited him and Shiro over for dinner tonight and tomorrow, and you'll see him at class, right?" Lance jerked upright. That's right! He had to get to English.
"Holy crow! Class! What time is it?" How could Lance have been sitting there staring morosely at his phone for so long and not have a clue about the time? He snatched it up again. Seven thirty. He still had about fifteen minutes before he had to leave, but it made Lance think about something else. "Hunk, what are you doing up so early? Again?" Other than making me think I'm completely late?
But it was becoming a thing, starting last week when he'd gotten up specifically to ask about groceries and Lance's date with Allura. Before last Friday, Lance almost never saw Hunk on a weekday morning unless he'd stayed up all the night before. Now it was almost every day. For a second, Hunk looked like he'd been caught doing something wrong, all wide eyed and fumbling for an answer. He settled himself quickly, but not before Lance had noticed.
"I'm trying to get back into a routine," Hunk said, almost completely innocent, as though his typical routine had ever started before ten. He lasted in that lie for about five seconds before he folded as soon as Lance raised an eyebrow. "But to be honest, Keith asked me to make sure you were ok. I'm not supposed to let you leave until you've had enough rest."
Lance somehow found this more frustrating than endearing. "Oh yeah? He asked you to babysit me? What else did Keith say? And where is he? How come he's not here? What happened after I fell asleep?"
"Come on, don't be mad," Hunk soothed, still cool and relaxed at the table. "I was going to do it before he talked to me about it. We were all getting worried. You've been killing yourself ever since Keith got here. I tried to get him to stay, but he said he didn't want to be in our way anymore, and we were kind of out of beds. I think it bothered him to see what he was doing to you."
"What?" Lance interrupted. "He's not responsible for that." That was the weeknight ambulance run more than anything. Staying three hours after closing time at the center didn't help much either.
"You can tell him next time you see him," Hunk returned smoothly. "Maybe it'll mean something coming from you, but Pidge and I weren't getting anywhere. Can't really blame him; you should have seen yourself last night."
Lance scowled. So much of what had knocked him flat last night had nothing to do with Keith.
"So he didn't stay here?" Lance moved on. The only details he wanted from last night were no longer about him.
"No. Shiro came and took him back to his place."
"They were supposed to wait for me to do that," Lance complained, not liking it, knowing that Shiro had been impatient about taking Keith away. He also knew that he was being selfish trying to keep Keith here, but he was hoping for a little more time to find some sort of balance. Joint custody?
"Bro, you haven't been home, so you haven't had a chance to see, but Keith? He's fine. His fever broke, what, Monday? He's been ready to go for a while. And your face says that you knew that already."
"Yeah, fine," Lance moped. Hunk actually rolled his eyes, making Lance want to take a jab at him about how much time he spent with Pidge if that sort of thing were rubbing off on him. Remembering what Lance had done to him last night made him swallow and take it. It wasn't like Hunk didn't have a point.
"Anyway, Pidge and I were wondering," Hunk changed the subject. "You were all over the place yesterday, but it seemed like you said it was Allura who got hurt at the center? Is that what happened?"
"No," Lance corrected his own ranting, remembering how his own brain kept trying to make it Allura the one who had been bleeding in his arms. "It was someone else. Her name is Makayla. I know her, but you guys don't. Allura was there, though."
"On Thursday?" Hunk mused from behind his coffee mug.
"She switched days to avoid me," Lance admitted bitterly, going over the rest of the details quickly, both because he had to go soon and because he didn't want to think about it anymore. What kind of girl was she anyway if one cancelation made this much of a mess?
"Wow, that's cold," Hunk said, pondering what Lance had told him. "Sorry, man."
"It doesn't matter," Lance said, as if it were true. As if it didn't still hurt his feelings. Allura going out of her way to avoid him. Keith vanishing before Lance woke up. All that embarrassing crap that happened last night when Lance was too tired to make coherent sentences. It smacked hard into Lance's soul that he didn't appear to be desirable to anyone but Genevieve down the hall. And even that might have been something Pidge had told him in the moment to make him feel better. Maybe him being single had nothing to do with his schedule at all. Maybe it was just him.
"Lance? You ok? Why don't you go lie down? Catch up on sleep?" Hunk broke into Lance's self-piteous thoughts, jerking him into motion again.
"No, I'm headed out. Class starts at eight and my shift starts right after," Lance explained as he headed toward his room for his backpack. "I'll be back a little after noon like always."
"Keith wanted you to say here," Hunk protested.
"Well he's not here to stop me, is he?" Lance shot back, dropping his bag near the door so he could put on his winter gear. "He told me he wasn't going to disappear."
Lance leaned over the camp chair, fighting with his coat zipper, angry and hurt about so many different things. Even if he wanted to, he'd never get back to sleep now. He felt Hunk's eyes on him, soft, questioning, deciding on the words of comfort that would work best for Lance. But Lance didn't want to be pacified. He wanted to be distracted. Which meant movement. Which meant getting out of here.
"Lance, what's up? It's not like you're never going to see him again."
Except that was exactly what Lance was afraid of. Shiro had come and taken Keith home with him. Home to McKinley Park. Lance didn't even know where that was, and Keith never answered his phone. But even if he did come back. Even if he and Shiro came over for dinner tonight just like Hunk had asked them to, it was going to be different. Keith didn't need Lance anymore. So yeah, Lance might see Keith again, might even see him often, but he would never see him the same way. Or see him the way he wanted to.
"I've got to go, Hunk. I don't want to be late," Lance said in parting, refusing to be comforted by Hunk's words. He just didn't understand what was happening here. Not with Keith. Not with Allura. He had no idea how Lance's world was turning into such a lonely place and he wasn't even sure how to fix it.
"Whatever, I'm not your mom, but if you come home again like you did last night, there will be an intervention," Hunk said, shaking his head from his place at the table, surrounded by his familiar wires and radio pieces. Lance remembered as he walked down the hall that it was his birthday tomorrow. Pidge was going to take him to the Museum or somewhere else appropriately geeky and time-consuming while Lance made dinner and baked a cake. He'd have to get his emotions together by then. It wasn't fair to Hunk for Lance to be moody like this, especially after all he'd done to help Lance lately. Tomorrow, Lance was going to be happy. It's not like there wasn't plenty to be happy about. Lance had great friends – Hunk and Pidge. He was going to talk to his family on Sunday. He would have pictures to send them of the party. Of Hunk receiving the birthday gift that his mother had mailed to him. His mother was ok for now. Keith was healed and free and honestly, Lance had a lot going for him. Things he needed to stop taking for granted.
He tried. All the walk to English class Lance did nothing but list things he was grateful for. The cold, icy path didn't make the list, but there was so much else that did. He was even starting to feel a little bit better, the crisp air clearing the rest of the fatigue from his head, the sharpness of it fresh in his lungs. He snapped a couple photos of the gothic architecture of the campus in the snow to send to his family. He smiled as he thought of what their reactions might be, almost at peace as he entered the classroom.
But then Keith didn't come again. The lesson was not in any way interesting, and not just because Lance was distracted as he continually looked behind him toward the door just in case Keith came in late as he had last Friday. Lance had purposefully sat in the back row, keeping the seat on the end open, but no one came to claim it. It wasn't true, or at least Lance didn't know that it was true, but it felt like Allura all over again. It felt like Keith was avoiding him.
Lance took out his phone again after class, rereading the last text Keith had sent to him this morning. I didn't disappear. But then what was he doing? The logical part of Lance supplied him with many answers to this question. Maybe he wasn't finished with the paperwork with Krolia yet. Maybe he and Shiro were still finalizing things. Maybe they were out buying Keith an actual bed since he was officially moving in. Maybe Keith still wasn't feeling fully recovered and had decided to stick to Shiro's apartment today. There were plenty of valid reasons for him to be missing but not gone, but Lance's heart picked the one that hurt the most. The one where Keith wasn't thinking about him at all, or worse, didn't want to see him.
Pidge called as Lance walked from class to the donation center, her timing absolutely perfect, like she had a tracking device on him or something. For all Lance knew, she actually might. She wanted to check up on him too, make sure he had gotten enough rest. She asked a few random questions as though she were testing his ability to switch from thought to thought, checking his mental sharpness. They spoke briefly of Saturday and what would happen and how many people Lance should expect to feed at what time. Pidge also asked about Allura, so Lance had to explain all over again about how she'd switched her day. And then he found himself once again headed through the door of the donation center where he had to put away his phone. No new messages. I didn't disappear.
"Sure you didn't," Lance muttered bitterly to himself.
Steve met him less than two minutes after he'd walked in, looking surprised to see him, a little bit anxious. He forced Lance to look him in the eye and asked him questions, more testing of his lucidity. Lance didn't blame him. Steve didn't look like he could handle more emergency paperwork caused by an employee mistake.
But Lance was good in here. This was his space. He knew every inch, every button. He may not have been as chatty as normal with the donors today, but it wasn't because he was tired. It may have been an effort to smile, to be casual, but he did everything correctly, as usual. So it caught him off guard when Steve met him at the cashier's window just as he'd finished escorting someone there.
"Why don't you go ahead and clock out, Lance?" Steve invited pleasantly, but it put Lance off guard. Why would Steve want him to leave early? It wasn't extremely early, but still. Was he doing something wrong that he hadn't noticed? Noticing his concern, Steve went on. "Your roommate is up front waiting to pick you up."
"My roommate?" Lance checked, not understanding why Hunk would do something like that. He'd never come to get Lance before. Was this more babysitting? Because Lance was totally fine now and didn't need it.
"He said he'd wait, but you've put in more than enough hours thanks to yesterday, and it's pretty slow. It's ok for you to leave now. I'll see you on Monday."
Distrustful and puzzled, Lance watched while Steve returned to his office. He didn't think he wanted to leave yet, not if this had anything to do with the intervention Hunk had threatened him with earlier. Without going to retrieve his things, Lance marched out to the front desk, intent on explaining to Hunk, with as much force as necessary to get his point across, that he didn't need to be picked up and that he was going to finish his shift. He only had a half hour left anyway; it wasn't going to break him to work another thirty minutes.
But then he stopped short in the doorway, as he had last night when Allura had turned up outside of her normal day. Someone else was in the waiting room that Lance hadn't expected to see. Only it wasn't Hunk, or Allura. This time it was Keith.
He stood near the entrance, hands in his coat pockets, leaning against the wall and staring outside, an apprentice-in-training for the kind of stillness that Shiro had mastered. He wore a slouchy charcoal-colored knit hat today, and one of his three pairs of black jeans. And Lance's hoodie, which was too big for both of them so the hem ended almost mid-thigh on Keith. It had been a while since Lance had seen Keith in daylight. He looked so mesmerizingly beautiful that Lance wondered how it was possible for him not to have noticed Keith before last Friday. Not only was Lance stunned by how good Keith looked, he also had to take a second to reconcile that he was actually here, physically in the waiting room. He hadn't disappeared. Lance decided to copy Keith by placing his own hands into his lab coat pockets in order to appear unrattled by having Keith suddenly showing up at his job. He took a deep breath and began crossing the waiting room floor.
"Keith?" He called out before he got too close. He had to speak first, his nerves wouldn't allow him not to draw Keith's attention, though he wasn't sure what to say beyond Keith's name. That wasn't quite true; he had a million questions, just none that he felt comfortable asking. What was Keith doing here? Where had he gone? What were they supposed to do now? Would Keith hate him if he knew how much Lance wanted to take his hands out of his pockets and wrap them around Keith's neck? Keith turned unhurriedly, smiling as he recognized Lance, his eyes scanning him up and down, taking in the scrubs and lab coat. Lance had to stop moving since he wasn't so certain about his knees holding him up while Keith was looking at him like that.
"Why do you even have real clothes?" Keith asked, shaking his head, joking about Lance's outfit.
"So I can loan them to you," Lance quipped, feeling happy, relieved to see Keith again, speaking before he'd thought about what he was saying, how it would come across. Keith glanced down at himself as if he couldn't remember that he was still wearing Lance's University sweatshirt.
"I'll get it back to you," Keith promised guiltily, brushing his hands over the lettering as if that would suddenly make it unrecognizable to Lance as something that belonged to him.
"Don't worry about it," Lance tried to backtrack. He didn't even want the shirt back, because if Keith still had it there was still something keeping them together. An excuse. "No rush or anything; it looks good on you." Lance closed his eyes, wishing he hadn't said that, then deciding to just move on quickly to minimize the damage. "What are you doing here?" His question froze Keith, turning him somber and maybe a little bit uncertain. He shrugged, like his being here wasn't unprecedented.
"When I couldn't find you at the apartment, and you wouldn't answer your phone, I figured you'd probably be here so I came to check on you."
"You're checking on me?" Lance asked, surprised, not sure if he could be happy about that. Was that something it would be safe to be happy about? Maybe not, considering how dark Keith's expression had turned in the last few seconds.
"Yeah," Keith challenged him. "Someone needs to make sure you don't run yourself into the ground. I thought I told you to stay home and rest." He paused, frustrated, shaking his head at Lance. "Why is that so impossible for you?"
"It's not impossible, just unnecessary," Lance dismissed, trying to figure out if he felt threatened or not, not sure why Keith sounded so mad. Was it because he'd left the apartment? But he was fine now. Surely, Keith could see that. "And I've got a lot of stuff to do. What about you?"
"What about me?" Keith pressed, almost hotly.
"You didn't stay home either." Lance hadn't meant to say that. At least, he didn't think he meant to, but it was out in the open now. He just hoped that his tone didn't sound so betrayed in real life as it had in his head. It doesn't matter, Lance reminded himself. It doesn't matter where he was last night or this morning. Keith's here now. He came here looking for you. Focus on that. It must mean something. "Never mind," Lance sighed, wondering if they were ever going to get anywhere. Keith's face had turned complicated, too many emotions overlapping at once. He started several times before he actually began speaking again.
"That's not my. . .," Keith paused, as if he were unable to say the word 'home.' "Lance, I can't keep staying there. It just doesn't make sense, and it's messing you up. I mean, you were a complete wreck last night. I had to leave."
Lance closed his eyes, shrinking, embarrassed all over again about that, especially since it seemed to have finally pushed Keith away. He prepared himself for what was coming next, expecting a thank you and good-bye. Keith had taken his duffel bag away with him. Everything he owned was now probably in a dresser at Shiro's place. Because that did make sense.
"Lance, don't . . I didn't mean it like that . ..Why do I have to suck at this," Keith growled to himself, sounding exasperated. Lance timidly lifted his head to find Keith with one arm folded across his waist, his face dropped into his opposite hand. "That came out wrong. Let's just go back to why I'm here, ok? Can we do that?"
"Sure," Lance agreed, ready to just get it over with and especially ready to talk about something other than how weird he'd been last night. Get some understanding, maybe closure. "Why are you here?"
"When do you get off?" Keith asked instead of answering, looking around the waiting room as if suddenly remembering that they weren't really alone. Not that there were tons of people here, but there was a tech at the front desk and donors walked steadily in and out of the front door, tactfully ignoring their soft, cornered conversation.
"I'm done," Lance responded, curious, a little apprehensive, suddenly glad that Steve had suggested he leave early. "I just have to go get my stuff."
"Ok," Keith said, nervous. Did he sound nervous? "Can I walk with you to your next thing? Are you going back to the apartment or we could go grab a coffee or something . . . or do you even have time?"
"My next class isn't until three," Lance said, amazed and unbalanced listening to Keith. What was going on here?
"So . . ." Keith trailed off, looking at his shoes. Lance wondered why Keith suddenly seemed unable to look at him anymore. He used to stare. He used to stare without blinking at Lance. What had changed besides his temperature? Other than Lance's weird behavior last night.
"I'm never going to say no to coffee," Lance supplied, watching tension visibly leave Keith's shoulders as he agreed to go with him. As if he thought that Lance might say no. "Let me get my coat."
Lance hesitantly began backing up, eyes still on Keith as if expecting him to vanish if he turned away. Keith made eye contact for a second, one of his brows lifting along with one corner of his mouth. "Just a second," Lance promised to be quick, pausing at the doorway to the donation floor.
"I'm not going anywhere," Keith also promised, but Lance wasn't sure. Keith had options now; he was definitely going somewhere. But not right this second. Right this second, he was with Lance, and they were going to get coffee like regular people. Like friends. And Lance was going to enjoy it like it was the last time they'd ever see each other. A shiver ran over him as he pulled his bag over his shoulders. He wasn't going to think about it.
Waving farewell to a few of his coworkers, including Taylor at the front desk, Lance made his way back to Keith, who'd been true to his promise and hadn't moved at all in the waiting room until he saw Lance coming back to his side. Then Keith pushed the front door open to let Lance out into the cold first.
They started walking, and Lance felt weird about how clumsy they were at it. Or maybe it was just him? His first steps were way too close to Keith, almost touching him, barely stopping himself from reaching around his waist to support him as he moved. Keith no longer needed assistance to walk, but they had never really walked anywhere that Lance hadn't physically supported him. He overcompensated, stepping away and ending up almost tripping off the sidewalk and into the deeper snow that had been shoveled along the sides of the campus walkway. Keith grabbed his coat sleeve, pulling him closer before releasing him, as though setting the new standard of how much space should be between them.
"You ok?" Keith asked, some of the worry of last night creeping into his voice again.
"Yeah," Lance answered promptly, maybe too fast. He caught Keith staring sideways at him and almost tripped again. He was going to have to figure this out in a hurry; he was acting like a lunatic. "I just realized I've never really walked next to you before."
And just like that, Lance made Keith overly aware of his own natural gait to the point where he paused on the sidewalk, letting that sink in. "Shit, you're right," Keith whispered, remembering all the other times they'd moved next to each other, when neither of them had really been walking normally. He looked so adorably befuddled by this realization that Lance had to laugh about it. Keith looked at him, trying to figure out if he were being made fun of or not, but when he saw Lance's face, he hesitantly snickered too.
"Come on," Lance invited, Keith's quiet laugh helping him to feel better, like they were going to be ok after all.
"I can't remember how I walk now," Keith told him, still unmoving on the sidewalk.
"I think it works best if you don't think about it too much," Lance advised. "And anyway, it's not like I'll know if it's different than usual."
Lance started walking, forcing Keith to take some steps to keep up with him, though it looked as though Lance had made it awkward for him.
"Keith!" Lance burst out, still laughing. "Just walk!"
"Ok!" Keith returned, though he didn't sound mad. "But where do you want to go? Who makes your favorite coffee?"
This quieted Lance as he felt the warmth of a mug against his chest, sitting on his couch in the dark after the ambulance run. Remembering the black richness of Keith's coffee that he set to brew for Lance every morning for the past three days.
"Uh, you do," Lance said seriously. Keith seemed stunned for a second before shaking his head. Lance wasn't sure that Keith really believed him.
"Your second favorite then," Keith amended, glossing over it. They were walking side by side now, naturally, close but not touching, no longer overthinking it. Lance figured that was probably the best way to play this. Do not overthink. But he really didn't have a second favorite coffee. Or if he did, that was also at the apartment. He didn't really buy coffee from any of the places on campus; he brought it from home. Same with all of his meals. It all was part of his plan to save as much as possible to send home for his family. Eating a ten-dollar meal on campus or drinking a three-dollar coffee seemed extravagant to him most of the time. Plus, he'd never wanted to take the time to go stand in a line somewhere for it.
"I don't know," Lance answered, honestly. "I don't buy coffee; I just bring it with me. Where do you usually go?"
Lance watched Keith debate the pros and cons of the multiple coffee options they had within walking distance. Actually, the way Keith scanned their surroundings made it clear that he might even be more familiar with the university grounds than Lance was. Though now that he thought about it, Lance realized that he didn't explore much. He went to and from the hospital, to and from his classes. Sometimes he went over to one of the libraries, though not as much now that Pidge and Hunk had made him his own computer. He suddenly wanted to ask Keith to take him to all his favorite places, wanted to see the university from his viewpoint. He couldn't think of anything better than that.
Keith made up his mind with a visible jerk of his head and began leading Lance through the grounds. They passed the bookstore, crossed Ellis Ave, almost as though Keith were taking Lance back to Snell-Hitchcock where Lance had found him in that miserable little apartment. They did walk past it, but continued through the frozen Quadrangle, a path that Lance frequently took on his way home. Keith didn't even glance at the place he used to live. When they hit the east side, almost to University Ave, Keith turned left into the Eckhart Library, but didn't stop. Lance divided his attention between watching Keith and looking around their path as the library transitioned into the math department and then into Mandel Hall.
"Keith? What's your major? How long have you been a student here?" Lance asked as Keith sped him along through the hallways with the ease of someone who had obviously done this many times.
"I'm actually not," Keith answered vaguely, pulling up in front of the entrance to a café called Hallowed Grounds, a sketched ghost holding a tiny coffee mug printed on the door. Lance hadn't even known this place was here, despite how the scent of coffee drifted pretty far down the hallways. On the other hand, he hadn't spent all that much time in Mandel Hall; most of his classes were in other buildings or the hospital directly. Though he thought he might have attended a mandatory concert here once as part of his humanities class.
Lance entered the café first as Keith's statement came to the front of his focus. "What do you mean you're not? You're not a student?" Because they had a class together. Keith lived in the dorms? Except Shiro had said that wasn't his apartment. Now Lance was confused. Again. And afraid. If Keith weren't even really attending university here, that was one less reason for him to stay.
"I didn't finish high school, Lance," Keith confessed, looking like he didn't really want to talk about it. "There's no way I could get accepted here."
"Keith," Lance began, though he didn't know if he wanted to ask for more information or apologize for bringing it up. He probably should have known. If Keith had been put into a correctional facility at sixteen, it had definitely messed up high school for him. But then why did he attend Lance's English class? He'd been partnered with him on the biography assignment. Their professor knew his name. How did that even work?
"Get us a seat?" Keith asked, more a request to postpone whatever conversation Lance had just started than actually worrying that they wouldn't be able to find a table. The place was busy, here in the middle of the noon lunch hour, but Lance could spot a place for them on the far wall, past the trio of pool tables that dominated the center of the room.
"I . . . all right," Lance agreed, unwillingly separating from Keith to hold the table. He slipped past a group at one of the pool tables, noticing the line of couches for the first time as he walked around them. The whole café was painted cream and black. There were hanging lights of two varieties, actual lamps with green shades and long strings of patio bulbs. They were all turned on, though Lance could hardly tell since the room was so full of natural light from the arched windows that lined two of the walls, broken only by an enormous alabaster fireplace. Lance picked a table close to it, though there was no fire lit right now. He set his backpack in one of the wooden chairs for Keith, then settled into the one across from it, thinking about what Keith had just said.
Sometimes Lance thought he knew Keith, but he'd just been hit hard how he knew almost nothing. They'd been with each other for all of a week, and most of that hadn't even been really Keith. Lance remembered that he and Shiro hadn't talked at all about the time after Shiro had transferred as Keith's social worker. Lance knew that Keith hadn't stayed at the group home, that he hung out at that one bookstore because it stayed open until midnight. Had Keith pretended to be a student to cover being homeless?
Lance thought how easy it would be. It was actually almost perfect. If you were quiet and resourceful, everything to live was available here. Lance wasn't sure that's what Keith had been doing, but it made a sad sort of sense. Lance felt unbelievably fortunate all of a sudden as he thought of how Keith could have lived here, a shadow student, auditing classes, sneaking in after faculty luncheons and parties where he hadn't been invited to pick up food. Dodging into dorm rooms by pretending he'd forgotten his key card in order to use the resident showers and laundry facilities. Who knew? He might have gotten his coat and hat from a laundry room lost and found. Lance suddenly wanted to rest his head on the table – the weight of his thoughts pulling him down.
"Hey," Keith's voice behind him, right next to his ear. Lance hated that he jumped. He turned toward the voice, but realized that Keith was very close to him, causing him to pause halfway, sensing Keith's heat covering him. "I forgot to ask what you wanted."
"I'm good," Lance said, thinking of his travel mug already in his backpack, thinking of how he couldn't possibly let Keith buy him anything after all his new speculations.
"Lance, you saved my life. Let me buy you coffee," Keith pleaded, still bowed over Lance, mouth near his ear, one hand resting on the back of Lance's chair. Lance tried not to shudder; he had to fold his hands together tightly under the table so they wouldn't shake. "What do you want?"
There were about twenty things Lance could think of right now that he wanted, and none of them had anything to do with coffee. He wanted to lean backward and pull Keith closer. He wanted to kiss the soft place under his jaw, breathe him in as deep as possible. Wanted to settle against Keith, into his warmth. He wanted to ask him about his non-student-status he'd just revealed, wanted to tell him how he didn't want Keith to go anywhere, that he wanted them to be together from now on. He clenched his hands.
"Whatever you usually get," Lance croaked, his voice doing weird pitches, eyes fixed on the decorative carvings on the fireplace mantle. "Or just plain coffee."
"Ok," Keith accepted, not moving from behind Lance. "What about lunch? Did you want a sandwich or anything?"
"No," Lance answered quickly. Having Keith buy him food was too much. He had his lunch already packed in his bag. "I'm all set. Really."
"Be right back," Keith said, at last standing straight. Lance felt Keith's hand just barely slide across his upper shoulders as he pulled away. Or maybe he'd imagined the touch; it had been so light. Now that Keith wasn't right on top of him, Lance found he could move again. He turned in his chair, watching Keith return to the line, ready to cut his gaze to the bulletin board on the far wall at any moment if Keith turned back. He didn't want to be caught staring.
And there was plenty to stare at. This was the first time Lance had been able to watch Keith move, healed and healthy. He didn't quite have Shiro's grace, but there was a certain elegance to his movements. He dipped a shoulder and slipped between a group of students who were carrying their coffees toward the couches. Even the way he stood in line, easy, ruling the space he stood in while being unassuming. Lance could see how he had maneuvered through the university, never casting any doubt that he was part of it. Lance was beginning to understand how he'd never noticed Keith before. He really was a shadow, apparently unseen by even the people who stood right next to him. But he'd never be invisible to Lance again.
By the time Keith returned, Lance mostly had himself under control, though he still hadn't decided how he wanted to proceed. Part of him wanted to tell Keith everything, lay all his emotions out and see what happened. The more sensible part of him repressed that idea, reminding him about his family, about his lack of time for relationships and how unfair it would be to ask anyone to walk that path with him. And then there were the sharp memories of the past few moments with Keith - how Keith had been pulling back from Lance, flinching from his touch, making it clear that things weren't as intimate between them as they had been while he was sick. Remembering that made Lance realize he wasn't ready to be crushed. He thought it would be best to keep quiet. Let Keith tell him what was going on.
Lance moved his backpack while Keith set down two cups of coffee and a wrapped sandwich on the table.
"I know you said you didn't want anything, but we can share this," Keith offered, taking the newly cleared chair. "It's called a Cuban."
"What?" Lance asked, leaning forward as Keith unwrapped the sandwich, curious. Keith helpfully took the top bread off for his inspection, revealing what appeared to be roasted pork, cheese, mustard, and pickles. "I've never heard of that." They called this thing a Cuban? Lance shrugged, having no idea why. Though it was cute that Keith had bought it.
"Oh," Keith said, wilting just a little. "Want to try it?"
"I'd rather watch you eat it," Lance replied, honestly, keeping his hands under the table, not trusting himself not to spill the coffee if he reached for it. "It won't hurt your mouth?"
"Not enough," Keith answered, picking up the sandwich and taking a bite. The flavor of something that wasn't dairy-based or egg or completely free of salt made Keith close his eyes in appreciation. Lance smiled, relieved to see him able to eat. The last thing Lance had watched him try was part of one of Hunk's cookies, which he'd nibbled painfully on until he'd given up halfway through. Now he acted like a hungry wolf, completely focused on the sandwich.
Lance pulled out his phone, a sudden idea coming to him. He waited for Keith to finish a bite before calling his attention.
"Hey, Lobito, let me get a picture," Lance suggested, then went on to explain when Keith looked flustered and confused. "My family wants me to send more pictures home, and they've never seen you."
"What do they need to see me for?" Keith asked, uncomfortable, almost hiding.
"Because you're my friend," Lance told him, reaffirming that it was true, as though he wanted to remind Keith that they had something between them. "So they'll know what you look like. We'll have to turn, though. The light needs to be coming from the other side or your face will be too dark to see."
"Lance," Keith hesitated, unsure, not turning. "I wanted to talk to you about that."
Something closed in Lance. The way Keith was talking sounded final. He looked almost upset. Lance decided to stall. "About what? The lights or my family?"
"No, Lance, listen. I've been thinking about it for a couple days." Wait, Keith, don't say anything. I don't want to hear how it was great and thanks so much, but you're going to be staying with Shiro now and leaving campus because you were never a student to begin with. How we probably won't see each other again. How all I'll have about you are the stats in my notebook and this picture if you let me take it.
"Here, Keith turn your face this way," Lance interrupted. Because this might be the only way I can keep you. Keep us right here in this coffee shop that I never knew existed with your hair and that hat and your eyes. Oh!
"Holy crow, Keith!" Lance exclaimed as Keith finally gave up and turned the way Lance wanted him to. He didn't have a choice, really. Lance had changed seats to get the angle, so Keith was forced to turn in order to face him. "Your eyes!"
Keith didn't look like he knew what to do with that. First, he widened them, then closed them. "Geeze, Lance, what about them?" Lance could tell in his tone that Keith was frustrated that Lance wouldn't listen to him, but Lance needed a few more minutes before everything changed again. Because after Keith laid it all out, they wouldn't be able to come back to this. It would be different. The coffee would taste different. Once Keith decided to reveal anything – about his past, about his feelings, Lance couldn't pretend anymore. He'd have to accept facts, no matter what he really wanted. He stared at Keith's eyes, trying to get a better look at them even though Keith was now studying the table.
"They're violet," Lance told him, amazed, finally seeing their color for the first time when Keith turned toward the light from the windows. Keith rubbed his hands over his face.
"They're gray," Keith corrected, muttering. "Lance, can we –" But something had caught Lance's attention over Keith's shoulder. Something that blurred Keith's words into the background music, cut off any argument they might have had about colors and how light affected them.
"Oh no," Lance murmured, distracted, lowering his phone from where he'd been trying to capture a photo of Keith. "I don't believe it. Crap." His new position seated next to Keith gave him a perfect view of the café entrance through the camera app. He quickly shifted back to his original chair, the one where he was sideways toward the entrance, hoping he'd been quick enough.
"What now?" Keith asked, extremely flustered. Lance understood that he'd been all over the place the last few minutes. Moving chairs repeatedly, going on about photos and lighting and the color of Keith's eyes. Which he was still certain were more purple than gray, but now wasn't the time for it. Keith turned to see where Lance had been looking, what had torn Lance's attention away from him, but Lance grabbed onto his arm. "Lance, what the hell?"
"Don't look," he hissed. "It's her."
"What?" Keith asked again, ignoring Lance and shifting slightly in his seat to look toward the entrance where just a few seconds ago Allura Lyons had come through the door with another girl Lance didn't recognize. "What do you mean her?" But then revelation snapped his features tight. "Wait, you're kidding - her? That's your girl? The one you canceled the date with?"
"Never see her anywhere but work until she's trying to avoid me and now she's everywhere she's not supposed to be," Lance said under his breath rather quickly, forgetting that he was the one in this café for the first time. Allura might come here every day for all he knew. Then it hit him in the next instant how rude he was being. "Sorry, Keith. Is it ok if we go? Maybe back to the apartment? Then we can talk."
Because he wouldn't be able to handle it if Keith were to give him bad news here at this table while Allura sat chatting with her friend in the same room. It was bad enough that both of them were unavailable, unattainable to Lance. It would be unbearable to have both of them here together, reminding him of everything he would never have.
"Which one?" Keith asked softly, watching Lance very carefully, ignoring Lance's request to leave, making it seem like he'd asked the most important question ever. Lance risked a quick side glance toward where Allura stood with her friend in the line to order. He didn't know the other girl. She was beautiful, not as gorgeous as Allura, but still very pretty. She had golden blonde hair, pulled into a long pony-tail, pale skin. They were obviously extremely close, laughing with each other, shoulders touching. It kind of hurt Lance to see it, how this girl was obviously Allura's best friend, but Lance didn't even know she existed until this moment. He might even know less about Allura than he did about Keith. "Lance? Which one is yours?"
"Neither," Lance answered bitterly, but then softened as Keith glared at him, demanding an answer. "The one in the white coat," Lance admitted, wondering why Keith sounded so earnest for Lance to point Allura out. What difference did it make which one?
"Oh," Keith sounded relieved. "Why would she be avoiding you? She's not still mad at you even after you helped her yesterday?" Keith probed for understanding, and Lance remembered that he hadn't cleared that up for Keith yet.
"No, Keith. She was there, but not involved. I'll explain later, just . . . keep your head down for a second. Maybe they aren't staying."
But Keith was doing the opposite of keeping a low profile. He'd pulled his arm out from under Lance's hand, standing up. "Keith!" Lance whispered furiously at him. "What are you doing?"
Keith looked down at Lance, half smiling, his violet / gray eyes full of a warm kind of pain. What sort of look was that? "I'm giving you a thank you present," he said, and then he had slipped away again, leaving Lance unsure of what to do. What had just happened?
Lance watched, horrified, as Keith pretty much marched right up to the girls. They had their attention on the menu board as he silently joined them, but it didn't stop him at all. He reached out and gently tapped the blonde girl on the shoulder, his back to Lance so he couldn't tell if he were talking to them or not.
"What on earth?" Lance murmured to himself, shocked, as both girls suddenly threw themselves at Keith. Allura wrapped her arms around Keith's neck while her friend slipped hers around his waist. Keith lowered his dark head between their bright ones, putting an arm around each of them, and for a second, they just stood there embracing as if they were all alone.
They didn't separate until the barista pointed out that they were holding up the line. Allura's friend kept attached to Keith's arm as Allura ordered and paid, apparently asking Keith if he wanted anything because he shook his head at her. All the while, Lance was reeling. They . . . they knew each other? How?
It appeared he was about to find out. Once their coffees were done, Keith began leading everyone back to Lance, who didn't know what to do. What was Keith thinking? What kind of thank you gift was this supposed to be?
"Come sit with us," Keith invited, coming within earshot, using his free arm to shepherd Allura closer to the table. Unable to cope with this, Lance found himself jerking to his feet, not sure if he wanted to stare at Allura or Keith. Allura's eyes doubled in size as she recognized Lance, and she pulled her coffee closer to her abdomen, holding on to it with both hands. "Lance, is it ok if they join us?" Oh my God, Keith, what are you trying to do to me?
"Uh, sure," Lance stammered, still standing and staring like an idiot. "It's fine with me." Allura looked like she wanted the ground to open and swallow her, though.
"This is my best friend, Lance," Keith introduced him casually to the girls, as though he had no idea that Allura and Lance already knew each other, as if he wasn't noticing how they had shied away from each other, awkward as hell. As though he couldn't tell that he was killing Lance right now. "Lance, this is Allura and Romelle. They're . . ." Keith paused, all his smoothness coming to a stop as he tried to figure out how to explain his relationship with the girls in simple language.
"We're Keith's friends too," the blonde girl who must be Romelle supplied, gazing fondly at Keith. Extremely fondly. Lance tried to stifle a gasp as information came together in a rush in his head. He'd seen the name Romelle before. In the case file. Romelle was the name of the girl that Keith had saved. David's ex-girlfriend. That meant that Allura . . . Allura had been the friend in the parking lot with them that night.
"That's . . . that's great," Lance forced out, trading a desperate look with Keith before trying to summon his courage to look Allura in the eye. Romelle easily put out a hand to shake Lance's, the only one in this group who had no idea what was really going on. Could she not feel the tension that was closing in tight around them?
"Should we sit?" Romelle invited, smiling innocently, reminding them all that they were still standing awkwardly at the table.
"Actually," Allura spoke up, hesitant, and Lance realized that she was about to excuse herself. She made eye contact with Lance for a long painful moment. "Romelle, I was thinking it might be best if we head home now."
Romelle's lips pursed slightly as she sent a heavy stare at Allura. The expression was clear. She did not want to leave yet; she wanted to stay with Keith. Lance didn't blame her, but was starting to feel a little jealous about how easily Romelle had attached herself to Keith's side.
"No, you can stay," Lance heard himself speaking, still looking pointedly at Allura, feeling that icicle stabbing into his heart again, freezing him inside. "Catch up. I'll go." Because this couldn't get any worse, could it? Staying here at the table trying to drink coffee as he watched Romelle snuggle with Keith, watched Allura trying to look everywhere and anywhere but at him.
"Lance," Keith froze him to the spot with his name, forcing Lance to stop and look at him. Lance could see in his face that he was trying to do Lance a favor. He was asking for Lance to trust him that this was somehow going to work out. Lance doubted it, but his own desire not to leave Keith kept him from grabbing his bag and running for the door.
"Allura, do you two . . . know each other?" Romelle speculated, already seated with Keith even though Lance and Allura were in a standoff next to them.
"Yes," Allura finally admitted, though Lance said, "Not really," thinking about all the things he didn't know about Allura. His answer turned her attention to him, and for the first time he saw hurt in her eyes. He swallowed, pulling a chair out for her, trying to prove that he could mind his manners. She hesitated, but then took the seat, allowing him to push it in. Lance sat down, across from Keith and next to Allura, picking up his coffee mostly to have something to do.
"So, Keith, how have you been?" Romelle asked, her features somber. Lance thought he might tell Pidge sometime that Romelle wasn't as carefree as she'd accused her of being. There was still a lot of guilt on her face. She knew that she'd done irreparable damage to Keith's life. It bothered her. "Is everything . . . over now?" She risked a glance over to Lance as she asked that question, probably thinking that Lance might not know what had been going on recently.
"It's done," Keith said, nodding. "The verdict was read last Monday; I'm clear. Thanks, both of you, for coming in to testify for me."
Lance almost choked on his coffee. Chaotic, Allura had said when he'd asked her how her week had been before he'd met Keith, before any of this had started. He'd wondered what that meant for her. Now he understood. She'd been asked to participate in the trial.
"Thank goodness," Romelle sighed, drenched in bad memories. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that. I mean, I'm forever grateful, but I never wanted that to happen to you. It must have been so awful."
"I'd do it the same way again," Keith responded, and Lance felt a little piece of him die as he watched Romelle melt at that. Ugh, Keith, how is this supposed to be helping? "And it could have been worse. I was lucky to have Lance helping me for a lot of it."
Lance quickly grabbed on to his coffee with both hands, setting it gently down as everyone's eyes settled on him. He decided the safest place to look was right at Keith, who looked right back, resigned and unflinching as usual.
"I didn't do much," Lance muttered, but Keith wouldn't allow him to be humble about it.
"Lance saved my life last weekend," Keith told the girls, giving out more information in the next few seconds about his illness and suffering than he'd ever been able to speak out loud while it was actually happening. "He dropped all his plans to take care of me. I got really sick; I almost died. If Lance hadn't stayed with me, taken me to the emergency room, I don't think I'd be here."
"Oh my God," Romelle breathed, staring at Keith worriedly, checking him over more thoroughly now that she knew this. "I'm so glad you're ok now."
Lance heard a strange sound to his right, where Allura was sitting. He risked a glance at her, shocked to discover that she had her face in her hands. Was she crying?
"Allura?" He checked her, surprised. Timidly, he reached over to her, just barely touching her sleeve. She peeked out from between her fingers, her eyes wet and shining.
"Allura, it's ok," Romelle comforted, stretching her hand across the table. "Everything turned out all right." But Allura was shaking her head.
"Lance, I'm so sorry," she wept, covering her eyes again. The ice in Lance's heart didn't melt at her words. It felt more like it had finally cracked his ribcage in half. Now she was sorry?
"I wasn't lying to you," Lance told her, probably unnecessarily now.
"I knew that," Allura cried. "I knew it before you even hung up the phone. I can't believe the things I said to you."
"Wait," Romelle said, from very far away. "Allura . . . is this that Lance?" Allura jerked her head up from her hands, her eyes daring Romelle to say anything else. Keith quietly stood up, pulling Romelle gently with him.
"I think you guys need to have a talk," he instructed. Allura nodded, biting her lip, staring at the table. "I'll take Romelle home."
"Keith," Lance pleaded, but he didn't know what he wanted him to do. Not leave. Definitely not leave with Romelle. Keith dipped his chin toward Allura. There it was. Lance's thank-you gift. A chance to work it out and make up. But Lance didn't know if that's what he wanted anymore. Keith hadn't even had a chance to tell Lance what he'd wanted to talk about. They weren't finished. What if he left with Romelle and never came back? "I'll see you tonight, right? Dinner?"
"No," Keith responded, handing Romelle her purse. "Shiro's meeting his military friends for dinner tonight. They do it every Friday, and he wants me to meet them this time."
"But tomorrow?" Lance pushed, feeling things coming apart at the seams. He couldn't let Keith out of his sight without some sort of promise for a future meeting. "The party?"
"I wouldn't miss that," Keith promised, soothing Lance. "Now." He very pointedly shifted his eyes toward Allura again, who sat wringing a napkin in her hands. Romelle bent over her before she left, giving her a tight squeeze of encouragement before taking Keith's arm again.
"He is cute," Lance thought he heard her murmur to Allura. "Good luck," she said more audibly.
Both Lance and Allura turned to watch Keith and Romelle leave the café, both feeling very acutely that whatever they had to talk about was going to be painfully awkward. Lance thought about letting her off, telling her he accepted the apology and she could go. He wouldn't bother her again. But part of him was curious. If she had known he wasn't lying, then why hadn't she texted him her email address? Why go to such extremes to avoid him? He thought, now that Keith had given him the opportunity, that he would like an explanation.
"So," he began, hoping his tone was gentle. Allura lifted her eyes from the table, contrite, ashamed. The ice in Lance's chest started to melt a little.
Author's Note: So who saw it coming? I know there are quite a few of you mad about this shift. I get it. I had it all set up for Keith and Lance to get together and then I ruined it. To that all I can say is . . . patience. I think you'll like it better if you have to wait for it. Thanks for staying with me this long. I can't tell you how much it means to me to see you reading, to read your comments. To know that there are some of you out there who are enjoying this as much as I am.