Well I've lost it all, I'm just a silhouette
A lifeless face that you'll soon forget
My eyes are damp from the words you left
Ringing in my head, when you broke my chest
Ringing in my head, when you broke my chest
~Daughter / Youth
ooo
(A/N): Slight NSFW. Nothing too bad tho.
ooo
Lance couldn't fly properly.
It was both perplexing and a pain. A miracle and a curse. One of the few pluses of being a ghost - the few, far and in between benefits - was the ability of flight. Few if none knew the bliss of hovering mid air no longer restricted by forces such as gravity. A peacefulness like no other. But, like all good things, it didn't last long. As they drove home from 452 Sanders Way, Lance was saddened to discover this flightless fact. If he tried to push off the ground, he would levitate only a second before collapsing. And, as an extra log for the flame, not walking for who knew how long had greatly hindered Lance's sense of balance. Walking was hard! How had Lance never realized this? He must've taken it for granted like everything else in his lifetime.
Not only was Lance now an untrained gymnast atop two wobbly stilts, but he felt sick. The illness, it haunted him. Took him. Wrapped its clammy palms around Lance's neck, squeezing until his skin was black and blue. It wasn't as if it hurt per say, rather the memory bore a hole into his chest and mauled at the wound with its infected claws.
Nico... It was such a shock. How did Lance not know? And how often were these... rituals taking place? Lance knew he was doing some creepy voodoo crap, but nothing to this extent!
He never noticed.
How the hell did he never notice?
Now that he thinks about it, Lance's mother, Chloe, and Mr. McClain were in the house while the last skirmish took place. Perhaps they... traveled to another dimension while it happened? Honestly, Lance couldn't explain it and he didn't know if he wanted to understand.
Keith pulled into the driveway of his home and stepped out of the car without a word. Lance followed, accidentally banging his head against the window after attempting to phase through it. He couldn't do that either? Man, physics blew.
Lance got out of the car properly and followed Keith inside. Silently, they winded down the messy halls, chipped, white wallpaper, and edgy posters until they got to the bedroom. Keith spontaneously flopped head first onto the covers. Emitting an exasperated groan, he asked, "What time is it?"
"Seven thirtyish. Why? You tired?"
"You're not?"
"I'm... overwhelmed." Lance admitted. "Plus, I'm never tired... well, actually. I kinda am now. At least, I think I am. Is this what it feels like to be tired? I l can't remember."
There was a pause. A long, heavyweight pause. Eventually Keith spoke up, his voice muffled in his pillow. "I don't feel well."
"Me neither."
"Can we talk about everything tomorrow?" Keith asked, words barely comprehensible.
"Yeah. Whenever you're feeling up for it." Lance responded in a whisper. He debated sitting in the spot beside Keith.
"Can you turn the light off?"
"Sure, your majesty." Lance said, but not in a condescending way. All he wanted was for Keith to feel comfortable, which felt like an impossible task at this point. Lance walked to the lamp and switched it off. The room was overcome by darkness.
Lance got in bed beside Keith. It was true he did feel somewhat drowsy, but his mind was too cluttered with other things to notice. Scooting under the covers, Lance got a view of Keith's long hair splayed across his pillow. He reached out, then hurriedly jerked his hand away. His fingers twitched in the darkness.
Keith rolled until the two were face to face, giving Lance a good look at Keith's pale features. To Lance's surprise, the other boy's eyes were still open; subtle slits behind long lashes. Though his irises were a dull grayish color, they were entrancingly accentuated against the pearly whites of his eyes.
"Are you sure you want this?" Keith's voice was deep and alluring.
"Want what?"
"This." Keith whispered, though there was no one but them. His stare remained steady on Lance's.
"You aren't being very specific." Lance couldn't help but gawk as his body took a mind of its own by inching ever so closer.
Keith breathed sharply in and out, the warmth felt on Lance's own cheek. "This... existence." Keith clarified.
"I still don't know what you're talking about." Lance didn't know he had placed his palm on Keith's until he felt knuckles twitch under the weight of his palm. Keith's shoulders tensed at the touch, but soon relaxed as Lance ran fingers up and down the skin around his wrist.
Lance's gaze darted down then back up in one swift movement. Keith said nothing. Lance's heart was in his throat, getting faster, faster, faster. He leaned closer, drawing circles in Keith's palm. Keeping their eye contact, Lance's hand slid across the covers to Keith's waistline. Creeping up his side, Lance's fingers snaked below Keith's jacket and made its way to the subtle curve and soft skin of his hip. Even the barest sliver of peach between the parting of his clothing was enough to excite.
Lance's eyes closed. Shortly later he was kissing Keith. Pushing his fingers against the boy's spine, Lance yanked Keith's body to his. Their chests touched and legs entangled in a whirlwind. It was no subtle kiss.
Lance wanted to make Keith feel good, so that's what he did. He wanted to touch every part of Keith, so that's what he did. Tugging a handful of hair with one hand, and cupping a neck's nape with the other, Lance stuck his tongue in Keith's mouth, and they kissed like there was no tomorrow. As though Lance was going to vanish, and this was all they had left. Some strange, concealed thing harbored deep within them both emerged in a violent wave that buried them before they had time to know what was happening.
Lance's form began skyward. He didn't realize it either until Keith's gasp of surprise jolted him to attention. Lance's pupils dilated to an impossible size as he hovered facedown, Keith just below. The two, breaths rapid, held eye contact for a moment, their minds blank.
Then Keith tugged Lance to him, allowing their lips to touch once more. Keith yanked the fabric of Keith's jacket collar. He felt Keith arc his back, which resulted in a wave of heat.
"Do you love me?" Keith asked between breaths.
Lance paused. Not sure of what drove him to ask the question, Lance answered honestly, "Yes."
Lance reached under the seam of Keith's clothes and pressed a warm palm against the bare chest beneath. Keith sat up and pulled his jacket and shirt off. Lance kissed the crook of Keith's neck.
"Do you love my body?" Keith asked, his voice low.
"Ya." Lance spoke into Keith's ear before kissing him on the mouth.
When their lips parted, Keith managed another question while running his knee up Lance's thighs. "Which do you love more?"
Lance jerked his head back. Keith kept his narrow, siren gaze trained on him. He was anticipating a response. A response Lance didn't have. A response that could very well not exist. Keith drove his knee upward, slamming it into Lance's crotch. Lance stifled a gasp as his vision went white. The pain overtook the shock soon enough, and Lance prevented wailing in pain by biting his bottom lip. After a moment of waiting, Keith repeated himself, "Me, or my body."
"What are you talking about?" Lance demanded, voice hoarse. "You know the answer already."
Keith was silent for a moment, his stare shooting through Lance like a bullet. Lance felt himself gradually losing momentum, sinking lower and lower. The spark was gone; the energy drained. He couldn't hold himself up for very much longer.
Keith averted his eyes and shuffled back to his side of the bed. "Never mind." He grumbled. Lance had a feeling the snappy remark wasn't meant for him, but to himself rather. Not knowing what else to say, Lance let his body abide the fundamental law of gravity and fall atop the covers.
Keith faced away from Lance. His bare back was on full display, shoulder blades rounded foreword. Lance heard him take a shaky breath as he pulled his blanket over himself.
Lance watched the slow rise and fall of Keith's side before finally closing his eyes.
He couldn't sleep.
In the morning, Lance made pancakes.
A simple meal that Lance was all too familiar with. Providing for himself when he was younger, due to his numerous siblings clawing for their share of Mrs. McClain's meal before he found his seat at the dinner table, Lance was quite good at cooking. At first he was embarrassed by the skill, for he thought it would make him appear unmanly. Many of his older brothers teased him when he would help his mother in the kitchen. But, later on, Lance realized something important. If they didn't know how to cook, then the joke was on them. Lance hoped they enjoyed having ramen and microwave dinners for the rest of their lives, because that's all they'll ever be able to prepare. Lance, on the flip side, was a chef. No need to go out when he could concoct a gourmet meal on a whim.
But Keith was an odd thing. Not only was he useless as a limbless pole dancer when it came to cooking, but he liked a certain sort of food. Fast food, soda, beer. And, when he did on occasion break from his habit of inserting greasy, garbage food into his system, he liked the plain, plain, and plainer. Vanilla cupcakes with white frosting. A burger with nothing on it but beef. MM yogurt, but with the yogurt and MMs separated. Like, who does that? A soulless person, that's who.
So, despite how much it pained him, Lance made plain pancakes. No syrup, no blueberry, no chocolate chips, not even whipped cream. No. Whipped. Cream. Keith's kitchen didn't even own the stuff!
On a paper plate, Lance stacked three pancakes. Boring one, plain two, humdrum three. Though his nose scrunched at the plain smell and eyes squinted at the blinding, plain color, deep down, - deep, deep, down - Lance hoped Keith would like it. Especially after last night. Lance didn't know if Keith was angry, sad, or what, but he wanted to make him feel better. After all the crap he'd been through, Keith deserved it.
With pancakes in one hand, silverware and napkins in the other, Lance maneuvered to the bedroom. It was difficult to keep steady without the ability of hover, but Lance managed. When he got to the bedroom, he tiptoed in as silently as humanly possible - non-humanly possible? The room was dark. Keith's figure was shrouded in shadow, but the light from the doorway casted a white outline along the curve of his side. Lance wondered what he was dreaming about. Him, he hoped, but doubted it.
Lance shuffled to the bedside, back hunched, breath held. Placing the plate on the nightstand beside Keith, Lance got a good look of the other boy's face. He looked adorable! Even with the trail of drool that ran from the corner of his mouth to his jawline. Lance tapped him once on the shoulder. "Rise and shine, Princess."
Keith didn't move.
Lance pouted and knelt. "Yo, mullet." Lance spoke louder, but still fairly softly.
Once again, Keith showed no signs of waking.
Lance was fed up. He leaned mere centimeters from Keith's ear and yelled, "Wakey wakey, mother fucker."
Keith's eyelids blinked open. Lance's body drew back, a rosy color tinting his cheeks. "What a way to say good morning." Keith muttered, his voice low and drowsy.
"I - I made breakfast." Lance stuttered, motioning behind him to the plate of pancakes. "Pretty sure they're cold now, but that's whatever."
Keith closed his eyes, inhaled, then opened them again. "What time is it?" He asked groggily.
"Um..." Lance looked from one end of the room to the other. When he spotted the alarm clock resting on the nightstand, he read it. "3:02 AM."
"Jesus..." Keith stirred, rubbing his hand against his half shut eye. "Why are you up this early?"
Lance paused, unsure of what to say. "3:00 is early?"
"Yes, Lance. Yes it is."
"Oh..." Lance averted his eyes. "I forgot."
"You forgot? What time do you normally wake up?"
"N - no... it's... I just forgot, ok. It's weird. I told you time works differently for me. It - it's kinda - I don't know how to explain it. I just forgot."
Keith sat up with a long exhale. He rubbed the back of his neck, shoulders slump. With a yawn, Keith stretched his arms and looked to his left. He spotted the breakfast. "You made pancakes? How?"
"With the pancake mix you got," Lance said, "obviously."
"I didn't know I had pancake mix."
"I guess we're both forgetful, huh?" The corner of Lance's lip tugged into a smirk.
"Yeah, I suppose so." Keith agreed, smiling softly.
Keith reached over himself to grab the plate, then placed it on his lap. His legs crossed criss-cross-applesauce and bare chest arched foreword sleepily. Lance handed him his plastic fork and watched in silent anticipation. Because he was a ghost, Lance had no real desire for food, but that didn't mean he didn't still enjoy cooking and watching other's faces light up at the taste.
Keith cut a triangle piece from the first pancake. Lance watched as he brought it to his mouth, chewed, and swallowed with an unreadable expression. He found himself biting his lip, unsure of how Keith would react. Though Lance knew he shouldn't have been so anxious, he was. Finally, Keith turned to Lance and smiled. "It's good." He mused, bright face illuminating the dark space around them. At that moment, Lance was a dark shade of red.
Keith looked down and ate bite, after bite, after bite, until nothing else remained. Placing the finished plate on the counter, he flopped back into a lying position and looked at Lance with his eyes still half closed. He was silent for a moment before saying, "I think it's time."
"Time for what?"
"To tell them."
Lance knew exactly what he meant. Now that he could interact with objects, even with others in the room, he could finally reveal himself to the others. Allura, Shiro, Hunk, Pidge, Coran. His mom. It was what anyone would want. To be noticed. Still, how come Lance felt so... reluctant? "I'm not sure." He admitted. "Maybe we should... wait a bit longer?"
"Lance, we've been waiting for weeks now."
"Yeah, but..." Lance's thumb circled the center of his palm. He couldn't look Keith directly in the eyes. "Can we... I just want to do something first."
"Do something? Like what?"
"I want to take you to the aquarium."
ooo
Icing over a secret pain
You know you don't belong
You're the first to fight
You're way too loud
You're the flash of light on a burial shroud
I know something's wrong
~Third Eye Blind / Jumper
ooo
Lance loved sharks.
Like, really loved sharks. But it wasn't the sort of love that could be traced to its source. Like love in general, it was complex. Too complex for the limited capacity a human mind could comprehend. But, doesn't that apply to all forms of love? From the love of a family to the love of a food. Most times, it's not as simple as people make it out to be. Most times.
As Lance and Keith passed silently down the dark, luminescent jellyfish hall, neon lights from the tanks and ceiling basked their features in a blue/red glow. Keith's red hoodie looked purple, as did Lance's blue sleeves. They lingered beside tank after tank of mindless, yet breathtaking displays. The mysterious moon jelly, the surreal looking purple striped jelly, and - Lance's favorite - the frisky blue blubber jelly. Keith pointed to one of the lion mane jellyfishes and said in a murmur, "That's my favorite."
"Ah, the giant jelly. A good choice." Lance nodded with approval. A pair of kids ran passed Lance laughing and screaming, ignoring the displays and their parents altogether. When they vanished around the corner and the two were left alone once more, Lance continued, "It's the largest species of jellyfish known. Its tentacles can easily stretch further than a human's entire body."
"You know a lot about your jellyfish." Keith paused in front of the lion jellyfish tank and turned to it. His narrow eyes and jet black hair shone with blue light. Lance felt himself heat up. "How big was the biggest ever found?"
"The bell - its body - had a diameter of 7 ft 6 in," Lance answered in a snap, "and the tentacles reached to about... 120.4 ft? No! 121.4 ft!Yeah, that was it."
"Big." Keith commented.
"Eh, but not nearly as big as me." Lance stated.
Keith scrunched his nose and smiled. "You fuckwad." He said, but in an endearing way.
Lance smirked back. They continued down the hall.
Lance thought back to his mother's sweet, round smile. Much like Lance himself, Mrs. McClain loved the ocean. She grew up by the sea and treasured her share of memories spent on the beach and in the water. She even assigned each child of hers with an inner oceanic creature.
Penelope was a dolphin, smart, fun, and morally good. Rio was a seal, spreading happiness wherever he ventured. And Lance was a shark. Speedy and ferocious, but courageous at the same time.
Lance and Keith turned the corner. They exited the darkness and found themselves under a dome of wonder. Above them, below them, and to the sides of them existed glass, blue, and creatures of every size and shape. Keith's eyes were shimmering pearls as he craned his neck upward. "It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
Lance bit his lip and turned his head down. He kept his focus on Keith as he shoved his hands into his pockets. It was beautiful, he had to admit, but Lance knew there was so, so much more. So much more that Keith couldn't begin to fathom. One thing, for instance, that stood before Lance at that moment. That moment that seemed slow, yet too fast. Much too fast. Why were seconds so short? Why did everything happen in seconds? Lance wanted to hold onto each moment, treasure it, as his mother did her memories. Why was that so difficult?
Lance averted his eyes and watched as a stingray's white belly rubbed against the glass, its mouth opening and closing as it disappeared from view. "I always loved this area in particular." Lance took back his hands, crossed them, and craned his neck upward, taking in the familiar yet distant scene around him. "It's like we're in the tank with the sharks and fish. Better yet, it feels as though we're in the sea, floating endlessly through the unknown."
"That's deep."
"Both literally and figuratively, yes." Lance agreed.
"Lance, I swear to fu- I can't take you anywhere, can I?"
"Aw, I know you love me." Lance grinned.
Keith paused. The sparkle in his eyes vanished. Lance felt his soul crumble. Me or my body? Those words echoed in Lance's mind. A scratched record. A video stuck on repeat. It was awful, and Lance didn't know what to make of it. Of course he loved Keith, but how could he make him believe it? Better yet, how could he convince himself?
The pair, slowly, quietly, passed into the next area. Because it was early, they were more or less alone. But the next room was different. An open space with multiple tanks, activity booths, and exhibits formed a half circle at one end of the area. The two kids from earlier ran and screamed as their parents snapped pictures from above the touch tank. Bored teens stood cross armed as they waited for their lagging families to stop reading the lengthy information at each and every exhibit. Elders pushed other elders in wheelchairs, young couples made out in plain sight, and a class of deaf kids watched as their teacher signed various factoids about the sea.
But the main attraction was to the right. A tank, the biggest Keith had ever seen, lined the wall from corner to corner, floor to ceiling. Inside, schools of fish synchronized through the water in near perfect unison. Stingrays flapped their featherless wings, avoiding the bug eyed sharks and large, multicolored fish. But they weren't the incredible part. They didn't land close.
A large, gray creature with a white belly and a back covered in white spots swam by. A couple of people, who leaned against the glass in wonder, snapped pictures. They didn't bother to turn their flash off, though the signs clearly indicated to. In addition, a combination of kids and adults thought it necessary to jab their fingers against the glass when something swam remotely close by. Sometimes, Lance hated humans.
Keith and Lance turned to the glass. Keith's features were, again, highlighted with a dark-blue hue. "This is Kaltenecker." Lance explained, gently pressing his fingers against the glass. "A whale shark, the giant of the deep."
Kaltenecker flipped its tail. Lance greeted his old friend by placing his forehead against the glass. The gigantic beast, unable to see Lance in return, swam passed. Lance sighed and lifted his head.
"Kaltenecker? I thought your stuffed shark was Kaltenecker."
"Kaltenecker Jr, actually. This is Kaltenecker senior, isn't she a beauty?"
Keith looked forward into the endless blue of the tank. A school of silver fish whirled by, casting a shadow over his face. Finally, he responded with an affirmative, "She's gorgeous"
They were silent for a moment, letting the majesty of Kaltenecker sink in. She was smaller than most whale sharks, racking in at about fifteen or so feet. "I came here all the time when I was younger." Lance whispered, breaking the silence. "I saved up my lunch money to buy tickets and came to this exact tank. I could watch her swim for hours."
Keith nodded. Though there were many people, Lance only saw one. He was so hyper focused on Keith's words, face, and mannerisms that other noises blurred into obscurity. White noise that he didn't spare a notice. "So that's why you always skipped lunch."
"You noticed?"
"Well, yeah. I offered you food practically everyday. You always refused." Keith muttered. "I was worried about you."
"Aw, that's sweet. You cared about me?"
"Yeah, you doofus." Keith shoved his hands into his pockets, keeping his gaze trained at the seemingly empty spot ahead of him. "You were my friend. My overbearing friend."
Lance shrugged, partly ashamed, partly flustered. "Me and Kaltenecker were like, best friends. Whale buddies. Lance and Kaltenecker, the unbreakable duo. I named her myself."
"Oh, really." Keith smirked.
"Hells to the yes. I was like her manager or something. I made her who she is today." Lance's smile faded. "I only wish I could've done more."
Kaltenecker glided with unprecedented grace. Her giant mouth opened wide, sucked in a mouthful of water, then closed. Her unique spots - which Lance knew all too well - swam away with her. Lance sighed. Keith glimpsed at him from the corner of his eye. "What do you mean?"
Lance shook his head. "Well... I don't know. You see, I bought Kaltenecker Jr here. At home I was missing the real Kaltenecker. But, you know, It's not like I could've brought her with me. So I got the next best option. At the gift shop, they sold these stuffed sharks. Sadly no whale sharks, so I got a sandbar shark instead. But, well, it wasn't the same."
Keith stayed silent. Though his face revealed no reaction, Lance knew he was listening.
"I've always felt bad for the animals here." Lance tapped his fingers against his jeans. "Kaltenecker and the others, they seemed so... lost. Well, not lost per say. I don't know how to explain it. Each and every day, all they do is swim in circles, wait for food, eat, swim in more circles, rinse, repeat, so on. They don't have freedom. They don't have the freedom... the adventure that comes with the ocean. They're just... lost. Especially Kaltenecker."
Lance paused and sucked in a breath before continuing. "Whale sharks have never done well in captivity, and I can tell she longs for more. It may sound stupid, but I know. I just do. When I was... when she could see me, she would always swim back and forth in front of the glass where I stood. She recognized me, I could tell. She did tricks and talked to me, and I would laugh and cheer back. I was the only source of entertainment she had, because I was the only one who kept coming back. I didn't tap on the glass or blind her with flashes. I was just there. You know?"
"She deserves freedom." Keith agreed.
Kaltenecker moved across the glass again. She seemed slower than normal. Sadder...
"She is why I wanted to become a marine biologist." Lance pressed his forehead against the glass. "To help and learn about these creatures instead of putting them on display." Another breath in. "All I wanted was to protect."
"I feel the same way." Keith finally spoke.
"About what?"
"About feeling lost." Keith closed his eyes and took his hands from his pockets, crossing them over his chest. Like always, he wore his favorite fingerless gloves. "I'm not really psychological and shit, but yeah, I can relate."
"How so?"
"Lost." Keith's voice sounded almost angry. "I'm in an endless loop of school and work. It's like... I'm not sure. I've pushed myself so hard and focused all my energy on the present, that I haven't had time to think about the future. Unlike you, I have no clue what I'm fucking doing."
When Lance didn't answer, Keith opened his eyes and said, "I'm sorry. Got a little heated there."
"No, no. It's ok!" Lance insisted. "Please continue."
Keith gripped his arms, digging his nails into his pale skin. "It's just... You had everything so... planned out. Your future was so certain. But, me? Hell, I haven't done a single productive thing in my life. School, sure, but what's the point really? To get a job in some office? That's just not me."
"Well, what makes you happy?" Lance asked, inching closer.
A school of fish flew by the two as if they were nothing. Just another cog in a never ending existence.
Keith was silent in thought for a moment before answering, "Music."
"Well, there you go."
"What? Like, a musician? Nah. Well, I did think about it once when I was younger.
"Well, what's stopping you?"
Keith unfolded his arms, letting them fall freely at his sides. Finally, he turned his attention to Lance. For a brief moment, everything around them was pitch black, the only light coming from behind their chests. Keith, red. Lance, blue. The two colors collided in the middle creating purple. "Nothing, I guess." Keith answered. His light flickered bright, then dimmed.
Lance snapped from his dreamlike state. The aquarium and all its noise returned in a harsh, foamy wave. "So, why not chase it?"
ooo
For what it's worth I'm sorry for the hurt
I'll be the first to say, "I made my own mistakes"
For what it's worth I know it's just a word and words betray
Sometimes we lose our way
~Liam Gallagher / For What It's Worth
ooo
Lance's legs were dangling from the roof.
Keith sat next to him, his frayed bangs swaying gently with the afternoon wind. The two boys leaned against one another, their eyes closed, listening to the music that hummed in their ears. Keith wore his right earbud and gave Lance his left. They were listening to the playlist. Their playlist. It was them, the music, and everything else.
The air was chilly and Lance could feel it. It was odd. Experiencing these everyday happenings that, before, he forgot... existed. The passage of time, hunger, temperature. It was all coming back to him, one by one, little by little. Lance didn't know wether to be grateful or terrified. Two states of mind which fought for control.
The sun was setting. It was time.
Lance pulled the cord from his ear. Keith turned and raised an eyebrow. He paused the music.
"I'm ready." Lance said at last.
"For what?"
"To talk."
"About what?"
"You know exactly what."
Keith's lips thinned as his head rotated back around. Below, a group of elementary schoolers were setting up two soccer goals in the middle of the street. They didn't have the proper ball, so they used a deflated basketball instead. They laughed as they jumped and ran, either not noticing or not caring about Keith on his roof.
"About what Nico said? I'll pass."
"Ok." Lance leaned back, letting the last of the day's light kiss his brown cheeks. "How about we talk about what you said instead."
Keith had a distant look in his eyes. It was colder than anything Lance had or will have felt. "Right. Yeah, you're right. Just..." A car zoomed passed, causing the kids to scatter. The engine rose then faded as it drove into the horizon. Keith continued, "You can't age, can you?"
Lance's fingers twisted into a fist against the roof tiling. "I - uh - I'm not sure."
"Right." Keith closed his eyes and exhaled. His chilly breath was visible in a cloud of white vapor. "And there's nothing keeping us together now, is there? Nico said so himself. We are no longer connected."
"I mean... sure, yeah." The sun was no more than a yellow sliver behind the cityscape.
"Then what's keeping you here?"
"Excuse me?" Lance pushed himself up. "Keith, you know the answer to that."
"Do I, though?" Keith held his palm up and out as the last evidence of sun disappeared, shrouding the neighborhood in darkness. "Why would I be asking if I was for sure on the answer? I know what you're going to say and what you think you should say, but how the hell am I supposed to know your true intentions if you keep saying what you think I want to hear?"
"But I'm telling the truth." Lance insisted as the kids scrambled back into their homes. "It's you, Keith. And I know that you don't want to believe me, but it's true. I love you, Keith."
"Ah, of course. The classic 'I love you'. I think people toss around that phrase too often."
"I think it's been muddied by those who don't take it seriously."
"Let me guess. You aren't one of those insincere few?"
"Of course not." Lance brushed a strand of hair from his forehead and tucked it behind his ear. "And I know you feel the same way too."
"How about years from now?" Keith asked. "Or months? Or even days? How will you feel when I'm old, grown, and can barely stand on two feet? When I'm different and you're stuck... well, you're like this?"
"Honestly, Keith. I can't tell the future." Lance's hand lifted to touch Keith's knee but swiftly drew back. "But I would never leave you. No matter what. So come life or death, I'm always going to be here. And if we somehow separate, then I'll find you. You have my word."
"Is that so?" The corner of Keith's lip twitched as if it wanted to smirk. "What if I... teleport across the galaxy?"
"Then get me some machine parts, 'cause I'm building a rocket ship."
"How 'bout the center of a volcano?"
"Well, I better get to inventing a suit that can withstand the heat of magma." Lance crossed his long legs. "It can't be that hard."
"What if I reincarnate into some... epic rocker?"
"Then get me a ticket, I'm going to a show. And, you know, make out in the dressing room? Maybe? Possibly?"
This got a smile from Keith, which he promptly hid behind his fist. Lance took his wrist and gently pulled it away. "Why are you hiding your smile?" Lance asked, meeting Keith's gray eyes. "It's cute."
"Not really the look I'm going for." Keith explained, his eyes glued on where Lance's fingers pressed against his skin. It was difficult to see in the darkness, but his cheeks were tinged with a shade of crimson, more beautiful than any sunset.
"Alrighty then, Baddie Mcbadboy." Lance let go of Keith and leaned back. Lance tilted his head to look at the other boy, resting his cheek on his own bony shoulder. Like always, Keith's muscular figure looked stunning. Lance was always jealous of bodies such as that.
Keith's smile faded. He was silent for a moment, his thick eyebrows scrunched together in contemplation. Finally, surprising Lance, he asked, "Do you believe in true love?"
"Oh, um... I - It's..." Lance's mind was reeling. "I don't know."
"I don't." Keith admitted. "That's one thing me and Nico agreed on."
"Well, whatever. All I know is I like you and I don't want to lose this thing we share."
"Yeah, sure. I don't want to lose this thing either, it's just... are you sure this is enough?"
"What do you mean?"
"Eternity, Lance. Eternity. Are you content with this... this existence, each and everyday? An endless loop of me, you, and nothing else. Everything gets dull eventually. As they say, there's no point in beating a dead horse. Don't you want more? More beyond just this? Your friends, family?"
"Keith -"
"And, what if I died? You would be left completely alone. I - I don't think I could bare that, Lance. You deserve better than this. I can't be the one holding you down due to this false... concept of love."
"Keith, I -"
"Nico was right. I'm a phase. I - I can't keep you for myself forever. You're a person, Lance. You deserve so, so much more than what you've gotten. Like Kaltenecker, you're a giant trapped in a box and I want to see you free. That's all I want, Lance. Your freedom. Nothing in return. Your happiness is enough. Lance, I can't bare it!"
Keith collapsed into Lance's shoulder. Eyes wide, Lance held his trembling form as he sobbed. He felt the coldness of Keith's tears against his cheeks and heard the awful sounds as he gasped for breath.
Mourning came like lightning. There was no preparation. All Lance could do was hold Keith close and stroke a hand through his tangled mess of hair. "Shh. It's alright, Keith. I'm here, I'm here." Lance brushed Keith's bangs aside, planting a kiss atop his forehead. Keith swallowed, his bottom lip trembling.
Keith sat back up. "I'm sorry." He muttered, face red and puffy. "Don't know what came over me."
"Hey, Keith." Lance reached out and grabbed Keith's shoulders, reconnecting with Keith's dejected gaze. "You cut yourself sort. Keith, you are amazing, and don't you dare say otherwise. If you want to know the truth, then here you go. I don't know what the future brings and, frankly, I don't give a damn. I mean, who needs those other fuckers when I have all I want right here in front of me?"
Keith's laugh was soft. "You're fucking crazy, you know that?"
"Crazy for you, yeah." Lance smirked, more than overjoyed over Keith's regained composure.
"And a flirt." Keith lowered his voice and leaned in to kiss Lance. Lance couldn't help but giggle as he kissed back.
Keith's phone rang. He left Lance and reached into his jean pocket. "Aw, poo. I liked where that was going." Lance scrunched his nose and stuck out his tongue.
"It's Shiro." Keith informed, glancing down at the contact.
Lance raised an eyebrow. "Who's that? A work buddy?"
Keith's thumb, which was mere centimeters from answering the call, froze. "What did you just -" Keith turned, his eyes popping from their sockets. "Did you just ask who Shiro is?"