"Hey Keith." Lance's ocean eyes bore into him, the raven's arms folded as he felt the unnerving gaze of his ex.
"What are you still doing here?" The brunet stood, walking over until he stood less than five feet away from the violet eyed man. Keith wanted to step back, not liking the close proximity but he was not about to show weakness in front of the Cuban male. Lance moved one of his hands up to scratch the back of his neck, a nervous habit he had once been told.
"Look, I know earlier I was kinda a dick. That wasn't exactly the best way to greet an old friend."
"I'm not one of your friends, Lance." Keith nearly growled, violet eyes hard as he glared harshly at the brunet, hoping he would hurry up and say what he wanted so that the raven could leave.
"Right, right. Do you think we could talk? Maybe catch up?" The man tried, offering a smile to the pale male across from him, which only made things worse. Keith scowled at him, a snarl starting to form on his lips as he opened them.
"You want to talk? Find that girl you were with earlier. I'm sure she'd be happy to do more than talk." Keith spat the words, turning sharply and heading to the parking lot, Lance hot on his tail and not missing a beat as he matched the shorter's pace.
"Nyma? No, she left halfway through dinner while I looked for you every chance I got."
"Well I'm not interested." Keith said, growing more irritated by the minute. He dug in his bag for the keys to his candy apple red Dodge Viper, quickly finding them and getting the door unlocked. Getting it to open only a crack, the door was quickly slammed shut by a long arm, preventing him from his escape.
"Keith, please. Can we just talk or, I don't know, spend some time together?" Lance begged him. The raven stared into this ocean depths for a moment before turning back around, fingers wrapping around the door handle and yanking.
"Like hell I'd ever open up to you again." Lance stepped back, whether from surprise or shock Keith didn't care as he got the door open. He stepped inside, sitting and quickly shutting the door, locking it to make sure it wouldn't open on the off chance Lance tried it. Starting up the vehicle and pressing down on the break he took the car out of park and hurriedly began to back up. He could hear the idiot through his window, but he was muffled. The raven knew he must be begging him to reconsider, to give him a chance but Keith wasn't going to let that happen.
He pulled out of the lot, putting the car in gear before taking off down the road. He drove for a bit, about twenty minutes before he found his apartment. Keith sighed and got out, grabbing his bag and heading inside. He kicked off his shoes, dropping his stuff onto the floor. He let himself take a few steps inside until he hit the couch and then he just collapsed, falling back onto the furniture and laying an arm over his eyes.
He lay there for a while, trying to calm down again. He was angry and upset. He hoped he would never have to see Lance again yet here he was a few years later looking all fine and dandy. Here he was a complete mess barely getting by with a few jobs to help get him through his second year of college. It wasn't even a good college but when he applied he was always shot down. No one wanted a dropout, even one that went back to get his highschool diploma. It was amazing he got into college at all, let alone be able to pay for it. He often thought he would have to sell his car just to pay rent.
Pulling himself from the comfort of the couch he padded over to the kitchen. He was starving, his rumbling stomach loudly voicing that fact. A quick glance told him he had the option of packaged ramen or eggs. With a sigh he took one of the beef flavored packets and set it aside. He boiled the water before letting the noodles cook. The raven let his mind wander. It wasn't a good idea.
Pained oceans filled his mind and he couldn't help the way his chest clenched. He always hated seeing that look on Lances face. The one where his eyes crinkled down, his usually arched brows relaxed and his lips pulled into a sad frown. He always looked older then. Worn.
Keith hissed when he heard the stove yelling in protest, water boiling over the pot and onto the burner. He quickly removed the cooking utensil, cursing as the water splashed all over the counter and his arm. He dropped the nearly empty pan in the sink, running cold water. He thrust the burnt flesh under the stream and hissed, trying to ignore the sharp, burning pain. After it was sufficiently numb, he quickly wiped up the mess. He sighed, dropping the dirty cloth into the laundry basket on his way to the bathroom.
Finding his med kit, he got a good look at the burn. It was nothing serious but it was big. The soft skin of his forearm an angry red, his nerves screaming at him in the form of an irritating sting. With only a slight flinch at the cold temperature Keith smeared some salve over the wound. He gazed at the area, trying not to scream in frustration. This night was going great. First his ex, then with dinner he not only burned himself but he wasn't about to try to cook again. So food was a bust.
Cleaning up his mess, he left gauze out for later. He knew as soon as the burn scabbed over he'd have to cover it at work, well the serving job at least. No one wanted to look at an open wound. Plus, fabric against burnt skin hurts like a bitch to peel off.
Keith just wanted the day to end. He walked to his room, stripping and crawling in bed. The raven lay there, staring blankly up at his ceiling and then his wall, grimacing as he rubbed his burn. He grabbed his phone, wasting hours of his life he didn't want back before he finally willed himself to sleep, closing his eyes and let the darkness consume him. He woke up a few hours later. His body sweaty and heart racing. "Fuck." He had hoped the nightmares were finally gone and yet he just came face to face with one, literally. He rubbed his eyes, body protesting as he stood up. His body ached, feeling sluggish as he moved. He sat at his desk, grabbing an old pair of glasses and setting them on his face. Might as well get his work done, fit in some last minute studying for the test on Friday.
This routine was his life. Wake up, drive to school, work a shift, come home, work on something, try and find some kind of food, try to sleep. He always had trouble with that part. He hadn't slept well in three years and he refused to admit why. He refused to give anything to him. Keith just wanted some damn peace. So why did life love to just give him a little leverage before throwing him back into the shitter?
