"Lance"
He barely caught his name being called. Lance shook his head as he pulled himself from the depths of his mind that he had dug himself into. He met Hunk's gaze, blinking as he slowly brought himself to the present.
"It's your turn to roll." Hunk said, passing him the dice.
What were they playing again? Lance looked at the board seeing the game, but it didn't click to what they were actually playing. He rolled the dice, his body seeming not like his own. It took more energy than what was actually necessary for him to finish the game.
When the game was actually finished, he didn't bother to stay for the points to be counted. He left for his room standing on legs that seemed that they would give out at any moment. Everything around him seemed like it wasn't real, the very corridor he walked down was all a dream. His legs quivered and he paused leaning against the wall. A few seconds later he slid to the floor, too out of control of his own body to care.
He was nothing more than an empty vessel, the entirety of his body a hollow and echoing expanse. Eyes locked onto the floor he fought in vain to move them. They remained focused on the metal flooring.
He was screaming his consciousness pulling and pushing his body into movement, not even his eyes blinked. He was frozen, like a statue.
The touch barely registered with him. Familiar shorts and long sleeve green shirt came into view of his peripheral vision. Then the tears started. They were slow at first, only a single drop at a time, but that quickly changed to a steady flow of tears.
When Pidge wrapped him in a hug the world came slamming back into focus. The last several months hit him with enough force for him to collapse within Pidge's arms. Pidge said nothing just simply held him as he shuddered, gasped, and cried with every breath.
It was too much. To act like nothing was bothering him that he could go from one battle to the next without so much as a blood stain staying with him. No, it was worse than that. The blasts, and even the galra that he had slain came back to him in his dreams.
He could feel every life he had taken surrounding him, their presence so overpowering it was suffocating.
He cried, pouring his pain into every sob that was released from his mouth and by the time he was finished his throat was raw. He laid on his side, head resting on Pidge's lap. She still remained quiet as she calmly ran a hand through his hair. Lance stared blankly at the wall, the tear stains fresh on his cheeks.
He had no energy left, barely enough to keep his eyes opened, but somehow, he did. The soreness of his throat kept him anchored to reality; without it he would've floated so far away he wasn't sure if he would return.
He swallowed again the pain waking him up slightly. He had to keep going, had to keep fighting. The universe needed him, the other's needed him. Without him they couldn't form Voltron. Once Zarkon was defeated, and peace was restored, then he could fall apart. But they weren't there yet.
Just one more.
That's what he told himself after every mission, after every battle, after every encounter with the Galra. At some point it would come true right?
Just one more.