December

I don't deserve this. I don't deserve you.

Keith needed to make that clear.

Keith knew instantly, that the room he was sleeping in used to belong to Lance; from the messy clutter on the desk, the colorful choices of wardrobe, and the tattered band posters pasted on the walls. There were also small collection photographs of what it seemed to be Lance and his whole family – smiling wide and bright it was almost blinding. The room was also the only place inside the flat with a striking blue window panel. Whenever the sun's about to set the room would glow in soft blue hue; warm and placating.

The room reminded Keith of a childhood he never had.

Lance had looked troubled, back then. He didn't even dare to try to refute Keith's argument. Keith needed to make it clear that he isn't some sentimental idiot looking for his pity. He was trying to explain things from his perspective. But Lance, that idiot, had said in a whispery voice, "I do care about you." and Keith almost lost his goddamned mind.

So, he snapped. At that moment, he was blinded by distress. He felt guilty but couldn't stop. His every word was clipped, slicing into the air. And then the next thing he knew, he had hurt Lance.

Lance, the guy who picked him up like a stray pup and gave him a chance to start again.

Lance, who made a perfectly shaped pancake.

Lance, who bought him his mother's favorite flower for his birthday.

Lance, who stole his dumb, insignificant first kiss.

Lance was perfect, and way out of his reach.

For the entirety of his life, Keith was protected behind a perfectly carved mask, hiding that which he found repellant. He was distant. Never get too attached – because everything will end, people will throw you away and you'll be all alone ultimately. Yet in the end, what broke him was the very thing he had tried to avoid.

The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. And then there was this kiss they had shared; it started spinning around and around in his head as well. So, he started packing everything he owned into his battered red backpack, eager to leave the safety of this Lance-scented room.

When he finally managed to slink into the 24-hour diner, Shiro was already there on a lone stool just behind the bar. His coffee was already cold. He looked around the place. It was almost empty. Good thing it was in a middle of the night.

As he hopped onto the stool, Shiro greeted him with an understanding smile. "Hey buddy. What's up?"

"Hey," he greeted back with less enthusiasm. "Coke please." He said to the server who nodded immediately.

"Sooo." Shiro started, stirring his half-empty cup of coffee. "I suppose since you've never called me in the dead of the night before, this is about Lance, right?"

"Yeah, um. Sorry about that." Keith said with a nod of his head. "How's Allura?"

"She's fine, we were just watching a hockey match when you called."

"Oh. Um. Send her my regards."

"Sure."

"You look well."

"You too." Shiro said coughing into his hand. "I mean. Kind of."

Keith's order arrived, and he spent almost two minutes biting into the straw rather than drinking the coke.

Shiro rested his chin on his palm, looking in Keith's direction. "So you wanna talk about it?"

Keith threw his belongings roughly down on the stool beside him. "I think I'll try to persuade Chester to take me back in until I find somewhere new to settle into."

"Wait, what?" Shiro straightened immediately, his expression morphed into that of a concerned older brother. "What happened with Lance?"

"We had a little argument?"

Shiro looked at him perfectly serious – which made Keith annoyed.

"We fought." He corrected. Shiro appeared a little disappointed. The guilt that had already piled up inside of Keith's gut just doubled its amount. "It wasn't me! He – he started it!" he didn't lie, but it wasn't exactly the truth either.

"You're not a baby, Keith. People fight. Just… go make up or something. I don't think I'm down with you going back with Chester. What he did to you… was awful, Keith."

Keith was shocked. He shook his head. "No, no. I… I can't."

"Can't or won't?"

Keith hesitated. "What do you mean?"

"You're always like this, Keith. How long do you think we've known each other?"

Apparently not long enough for you to realize my apparent feeling for you. He pushed the thought away. Somehow it didn't bother him as much as it used to. "You and Lance both – would the two of you quit assuming you know me? I don't wear my heart on my sleeves." When he saw Shiro wipe away the sweat that had beaded along his temple, Keith tried to change the topic. "Anyway, never mind that. I need you to help me talk to Chester."

"No, Keith. I am not talking to Chester, and neither are you. He's a dick, and we both know that." Keith felt a tug on his lips at Shiro's choice of word. Usually he tried to avoid using vile language 'cause he knew Allura hated it. "What happened between you and Lance? Did he do something bad? Was it something he said?"

"It's… complicated. But no, Shiro. Lance he…" Keith sighed, suddenly feeling weary and overwhelmed. "He would never do anything to hurt me. He's really nice. And gentle. Serious and earnest. And he has a nice smile. He's textbook perfect."

Keith knew Shiro was watching him with growing amusement, but he'd never felt this awful before in his entire life. He brought his hands together and buried his face in them.

"He's perfect and I hurt him, Shiro. I made him run off from his own house. And it's killing me." He groaned, careful not to turn it into a helpless sob. "Right now I can't even stop thinking about him. What if he hates me? What if he throws me away? I thought I was ready for it. I mean, I am ready. I've been ready my whole life – but now suddenly the thought scared me to death – I… I – " Keith felt his panic begin like a whirlwind inside his lungs. His thoughts were accelerating in his head. His breath came in gasps and he felt the edge of his vision turned black. Shiro was immediately at his side, gentle hand rubbing circles on his back. Lance hated him. He must've hated him right now, if Lance was any normal person. Keith had said some horrible, horrible things and it had completely shattered the already fragile relationship they had going on. Even when Keith acted like an annoyance, Lance still tried to try to mend things. He was so good and kind, and Keith was nothing but an enraging freeloader.

"Keith. Relax. Breathe with me." Shiro whispered softly, soothing the knot in his head. "You're okay. Lance is gonna be okay. It's fine."

He was still shaking as he pushed himself back into a seating position, but his breath gradually evened out. Shiro still had his hand behind him. He tried to match his breathing with Shiro, but what came out was a suffocating sob. He didn't even realize he'd cried. He couldn't help to think that he was replaceable – that whatever feeling Lance held for him was nothing sort of a forced distraction. It could be anyone. Lance could go home with anyone that night at the bar and still fell for them. Anyone else would be a better pick for Lance, he thought. Keith sobbed harder.

"We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. Just know that I'll always be here for you, Keith. And so is Lance."

Keith shook his head, wiping the tears with the back of his hand. "I – I don't know, Shiro. Sometimes I feel like I don't even belong anywhere. That nobody wants me. It's… it's the same with him too." he sniffed. "Once he… Once he got to know the real me he'll throw me away too, like everyone else did and I… if it's him I – I don't know if I can handle it."

"Have you talked it out with him? like really talk it out. Ask him what he wants?"

"Uh… no… I…"

"Keith…" Shiro sounded disheartened.

"I snapped out, okay? It's what I do. Like my self-defense mechanism or something." He grumbled, crossing his arm. He didn't look too intimidating with teary eyes and snot running down his nose.

"Keith, it's different this time. How about you stop being so obstinate and hear him out for a change?"

"But, I'm scared… Shiro." He swallowed down the lump in his throat. "What if I don't ever want to know his answer? Or if there was nothing for us instead? I… I can't. I don't think I can be more attached than I already am."

"So you'll let your fear overpower your desire?"

Keith didn't come up with a smart answer. He couldn't. "You know very well just how big my fear is."

"Yes, and I also happen to know that you're far stronger than those fears of yours. You've been fighting them your whole life – alone. But you've changed now. You're not alone – you never were, and you're… happy; and God knows that's all I ever ask of you. And you're the happiest when you're with him. Don't even try to convince me otherwise."

Shiro cared about him. Like really cared. It's making him so damn emotional. Keith fidgeted with the hem of his sleeves, growing restless with worry. "…What do you want me to do then?"

Shiro grabbed him by the shoulders and turned Keith around to face him. "Stop running away and give yourself a chance." Keith watched him with wide, glimmering eyes. "Now come here and give me a hug."

He shook his head. "Noooooo," But Shiro leaned inanyway, and soon he was enveloped by strong arms around his waist, propelling him forward. It took a while for Keith to finally cave in and melt into the hug, and when he did, he thought he'd feel his heartbeat quicken or his throat tighten – but all he felt was ease.

When Keith returned, hours later, the place was still as dark as he left it. He presumed Lance would be sleeping at Hunk's place and he was surprisingly okay with it. He was an ass and if Lance needed time away he would give it to him. What he didn't expect was Lance, sleeping on the couch still with his sneakers on, head tucked between his raised knees. Keith almost jumped to his feet. All his previous thoughts and worries came back flooding into his system but he clenched his hands, determined. He remembered what Shiro had said earlier and felt a wee bit lighter.

He tiptoed into his room, dropped his backpack and seized the soft, beige colored duvet from inside the dresser. He draped the blanket around Lance's hunched shoulder, watching as those deep blue eyes slowly open up.

"Keith?" his voice was small and heavy with sleep, but there was a tint of hope.

"Uh. Hey. Sorry I wake you up." Came the whispered reply. "Mind if I join you?"

Lance merely shook his head drowsily and Keith took it as his cue to climb onto the couch right next to him. Lance radiated a familiar warmth Keith'd grown accustomed to. There was a pregnant pause – where the silence became too loud he could hear his own rapid heartbeat. When the guilt came again to haunt him, Keith took in a deep breath. Lance was as quiet, except for his calm breathing. Keith almost thought he'd went back to sleep but there were movements from the corner of his eye.

His gaze landed on the tiny potted marigolds – lining up nicely on the window stool. Suddenly he was filled with warmth. He wanted to do better – wanted to make things right. For once, he wanted to follow where the deepest part of his heart could take him.

"My mom once told me that marigold has many different meanings in each part of the world." He began, a little timid. "Victorian flower experts considered it a symbol of despair and grief, which is shared with the Mexican culture linking it to the tribute of the dead during Dia de Muertos. It is also linked it with cruel treatment towards a loved one. Modern meanings focus on the sunny color and beauty in its place, giving the flower a meaning of optimism and success instead."

Even though Marigold has a few negative implications over the years, most of what it means remains positive in present-day times. And despite that, marigolds have been used as love charms and fused into wedding garlands." Keith picked on his nails nervously, his cheeks growing warm. "I guess that's why she likes it so much."

"It's pretty." Lance mumbled in agreement. Keith nodded, even though he knew Lance wasn't looking in his direction.

"My mother… she's a war photographer. She also volunteers a lot." Keith swallowed. "She left when I was six and I've lived with my father until he passed away when I was twelve. I've been living alone since then. I thought my mom would come back… but she didn't. Weird, huh." He rested his head against his arm and laughed bitterly. "The only way to know whether she's alive or not is by checking her photography blog. I've been following her ever since, but I never left any comments or… anything whatsoever. I guess in a way… I am angry at her."

He heard the sound of sheet rustling and turned around to see Lance staring right at him, eyes warm and understanding. "Keith…" He whispered. The two of them seemed to have a silent conversation as they gazed into each other's eyes. Lanced moved in first and Keith mentally patted himself in the back for not flinching or backing out. "I know you didn't mean what you said back then, but you clearly want to talk about something. So, whatever it is, I'll hear it. I won't judge you or anything."

Keith waited, silently staring at his favorite chestnut-colored hair. "It's just that. I have a hard time. In trusting someone. And I'm sorry if I hurt you."

Lance reached out his hands but stopped halfway, silently asking for permission. When Keith slowly bobbed his head, Lance cradled his face in his hands. Keith was thankful he didn't comment on how the rim of his eyes was red and puffy, and how his nose was still clogged with snot. Instead, he had this tender expression on his face that made Keith want to melt into him. "Keith, listen. I meant what I said, okay? You're never a burden. Not to me. And I don't want you to keep hurting yourself over that, do you understand?"

Keith was reluctant, but he nodded again.

"I'm sorry I left too. I admit I was a little… taken aback. But I'm fine. I'm happy that you decided to come here and talk to me," Lance chuckled. His laughter was sweet and clear, that could be heard from a mile away, that would echo through the halls and to every room in the flat and could cheer Keith up. With each surge of laughter, he released some of the tension that had built between them. It always filled him with joy. "We're fine."

His smile was contagious, so Keith joined him until his cheeks ached from smiling too much. Then Lance's eyes landed on his lips, and he mimicked the motion. When those rich navy eyes settled back on his, expectations bubbled in his chest. He calmly shut his own eyes and tipped his chin forward.

"Don't you have an early shift today?"

One of his eyes cracked open. Keith imagined the sound of a record scratching somewhere in the back of his head. It was almost comedic. "What."

"Earlier you said…"

"Lance. It's almost five." Keith said matter of factly. Get on with it.

"Yes, then shouldn't you be getting ready?" Lance patted his thigh and climbed off the couch. He sauntered back into his own room.

Keith had never wanted to punch a guy so much before.