Shock must have dulled Lance's mind, blurring the rest of that afternoon. If he tried to remember what happened when he made it back to the pitifully small waiting area Lance could vaguely recall Veronica making fun of him for how long he'd taken, implying with an inquiry that he'd perhaps run into a pretty girl. Even the panic he'd felt in that moment had been muted.
When mama had come to gather them all up and take them home Lance hadn't been able to meet Rachel's gaze.
His mind had run in the same loop for he wasn't even sure how long. He must have misheard something. It might have been the wrong room! Some other mother and dying daughter, and he hated himself for even hoping such a thing.
And now? Well now Lance was sitting alone in his room, cross legged atop his bed. Tiburonsito resting in his lap, unsure of how much time had passed he idly flipped through one of his many comics, eyes static upon the pages. He couldn't say which hero's adventure he'd picked up and he certainly wasn't reading.
"Hey Lance." Rachel seemed to materialize out of nowhere, leaning over her twin, face inches from him. Without meaning too he scrambled backwards on the bed, comic slipping from his lap. His eyes already averted.
Rachel straightened up, hands on her hips and eyebrow raised. "You've been super out of it all day man.
She was acting so natural…. So… so normal. How did she do that? Still though, if she could behave like nothing had happened…. Maybe it really hadn't? Lance allowed this hope to plant into his heart like a seed, clutching it in a tight desperation.
Lance's gaze flicked up to hers finally, and she smirked. "There you are!" The smile he returned was tentative. A small part of him wanted to ask her but he was too afraid of the truth, and so instead the question that slipped from his lips was an unintended one.
"Rachel, do you ever… you really never like…. Know how I'm feeling do you?"
A look of worry passed over her features and she sat on the edge of the bed, shaking her head. "you already know Lance…" She pulled his hands into hers. "And you… you still feel mine?"
For a moment Lance thought about denying it, lying to retain some sense of the ordinary, until dread like an abyss swallowed him. His eyes widened as he stared at Rachel. This is what she was feeling right now?
"I thought so."
Before Lance could saying anything, before he could even try to salvage the small seed of hope that he'd barely planted, giggling broke through the loaded silence as Nadia and Sylvio chased each other down the hall and slammed through the doorway, left ajar by his sister.
"Come on guys dinnertime!"
The dread that filled Lance was impossible to untangle from the same exact emotion that Rachel was suddenly burdened with.
Neither of them could meet the other's gaze as they turned and faced the hallway. The kids already sped from the room their shouts of "dinnertime" ringing through the abode. To Lance, and to Rachel, the walk to the dining table felt like a funeral march.
It was by the ingenuity of family that all twelve of them were able to fit at the dinner table, sitting elbow to elbow as the meal was served. Every single one of them, even the smallest, could tell that something was off. Lance knew because each adult was tensed, and the two younger ones obviously felt this in the very air, and sat in anxious silence. Never before had their supper been so quiet.
It was the first time in a long while that the whole of them were all able to sit down together, what with everyone's work schedules it was nigh impossible outside of the big holidays.
That alone was warning enough.
The conversation that managed to push through this pressure was stunted, all attempts halting and awkward. Lance held no appetite, but his abuelita continued to pile more food onto his plate, her gentle knowing smile enough to work some of the fear from his system. She even managed to coax out a few bites from the boy. Though each one fell like a stone down his gullet, settling heavily in his stomach.
"quedarse con nosotros Lance." Her request was like an anchor, and he tried to hold onto that sense of normalcy, her rickety voice, the calming way in which the language of her home rolled off her tongue.
He was thankful that, for once, attention passed over him, such a far cry from normal, and yet nobody noticed.
Lance didn't know what to expect… were his parents just going to hide it from the rest of them? Lance doubted that he could keep this big of a secret for any amount of time. He couldn't really figure out which scenario would be worse though. An outpouring of this nightmarish truth or an illusion that played out until the very last mortal moment.
When their mama finally spoke though Lance knew exactly what he'd rather have happen. And it was not this.
She stood and cleared her throat. Lance had thought it'd been quiet before, but instantly the room deadened, the clacking of silverware was the last sounds before those too stilled. Until the table itself was as silent as a cemetery.
The deep breath his mama pulled in shook, and it was this alone that broke Lance.
The boy couldn't hear this. He couldn't face the rest of the family and see their faces as Mama explained exactly how his other half was dying. It would solidify this…. Make it real.
Right as he was jumping up, so violently that his chair clattered to the floor, the clamor sounding somehow louder in this deathly quiet, Rachel's hand shot out to grab his own that was already out of reach. Lance could feel how much she needed him to stay there with her.
But he just couldn't.
Lance ran from the table. Ran from the room. Ran from the house.
Ran from his family.
The humidity of the night was like a solid wall as soon as he got outside, heavy air dragging at him and muting his family's calls of "LANCE!" and "COME BACK" that would have otherwise rung after him.
The last thing he heard- "where are you going?" Stuck in his head like a curse. He had no idea. Some how his body kept pushing even as panic curled around his thoughts.
Before he knew it Lance was right outside Hunk's house. Body pressed up against the door, fists pounding franticly. When his best friend answered Lance almost hit him as well.
"What's up La-woah." Hunk took a step back as the boy fell into the entryway. His expression swiftly shifted into a look of worry.
"Hunk dear who's at the door?" The larger boy pulled Lance into a one armed hug. It wasn't until this moment that he realized the wracking sobs that tore thru his body. The heavy breathes which turned each inhale into shattered glass. He tried to hold his breath, to gain some semblance of control over it as Hunk's mom came to the archway between the living room and dining room. There wasn't even a lull in the conversation that drifted through the house.
"It's Lance!" Hunk spoke over his shoulder, keeping him hidden from view.
"Well invite him in for dinner!"
He was shaking his head before the invitation was even finished being spoken.
"Uh I don't think he's hungry- Can I grab a plate and eat up in my room?"
"Sure sweety!" The confusion was clear in her voice but Hunk was already pushing Lance towards the stairs, his own concern painfully clear on his features. "What for me—" He mouthed before spinning and rushing away.
"Is he okay honey?" Lance heard Hunk's mom ask in a tone that matched with Lance's own mother so perfectly that the Cuban boy felt a fresh wave of panic cresting over him, ready to pull him under.
He stumbled up the stairs, using his hands to help balance at points. Once in his friend's room he sat by the other boy's dresser, leaving the lights off, as if hiding, and tried to focus on his breath. But it didn't work. He wished he hadn't forgotten Tiburonsito back on his bed at home, though he knew even that wouldn't help…. Nothing would. His sister was still sick.
Instead of calming himself down Lance worked himself up higher, spiraling with wonderings of what his family was doing in that moment. Had they postponed this morbid talk, were Marco and Luis even now searching all of Lance's usual hiding spots for him? Like the attic, the river bank? He couldn't stay here for long if that were the case.
Or maybe…. Maybe they'd had the conversation without him. If his reaction was anything to go by it was so painfully clear that he already knew. He'd bolted before a single word could even be said.
Either way Lance knew that when he did go back he'd be in for a viniendo a la conferencia de jesus. But that anxiety was so very small compared to the others.
"Lance?" It felt as if he had been waiting for Hunk to return for a lifetime. "Where are you?" He wanted to jump up to Hunk, to be safe in his friend's protective arms again, but instead he flinched away from the inquiring voice as the light flipped on, scrunching in tighter against the shelving. But the small movement was still enough to give away his position.
"Lance buddy, what's wrong…"
The boy had manged to quiet his crying, though wayward tears still tracked down his olive cheeks.
But as Hunk sat on the floor next to him Lance's loose grip on what little control he'd managed to reign in slipped, and once more his resolve crumbled, only this time he felt as it happened, the world falling away from beneath his feet.
For a long while there could be no words, only the salt of his misery and sobs that shook him to the rhythm of gentle, circling hands upon his back.
This is where Pidge found her two best friends.
Lance had heard, but barely registered as she bounded up the stairs, but her voice pulled him completely from his woe with a strangled gasp, pulling in the last wrenching whimper. "Hey Hunk, your mom let me in, said Lance was her and-oh…" She halted in the doorway, body rocking backwards from her momentum, weight of a backpack over her shoulder and a console beneath her arm making her teeter for a moment.
"Uh… what's going on in here?" She readjusted her glasses as her eyes shifted to the side. Pidge had never been one for emotional displays.
Lance hiccuped, holding his breath back completely. He knew the girl didn't handle tears well.
"I think it might have something to do with Rachel?" Hunk murmured, his hand not slowing at all.
Those words alone were enough to break down the dam Lance was desperately trying to build up, and breath broke out of him along with more wails.
"W-what can I do?" Pidge dropped her things onto Hunk's bed and knelt next to them, obviously not as practiced at this comfort thing as Hunk was, but her small hands joined his regardless, resting upon Lance's shaking shoulder.
Hunk's guess was enough to also tear through the barricade of his words, which came rushing out of him, broken and gasped out between his weeping.
Lance freed this heavy secret.
Thankfully there wasn't much to say.
But now…. Now it was spoken, out in the open.
Real.
He felt no better having shared his burden.
Oh dios Rachel was dying.