Lance sighed softly as he leaned his head against the wall behind him, glancing towards the door opposite from him. He smirked slightly as his eyes connected with some girl's name written on a purple flower, plastered against the ugly wooden door. Most of the doors on this floor had people's names written on some odd shape or form, taped across the thin door to let everyone know who resided where… most of them, but not this one.
Lance cleared his throat and looked down at his left wrist, watching some blood trail lazily against his skin. He wiped it away quickly, biting his lip, and started picking at some loose carpet littering the dirty hallway with scabbed fingers. He had managed to snag his hand and wrist on the brick wall outside when he tripped over some abandoned ice, waiting for someone to unlock the door. He was always unintentionally hurting himself somehow, and it didn't help that this campus was a fucking icy deathtrap.
The light above flickered violently as someone slammed the door down the hall and Lance turned to see a girl locking her door. She stopped for a second to give the 18-year-old a weird look, causing Lance to wave awkwardly, "I-I'm waiting for someone."
The girl nodded slowly before tucking a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear, and turned the other direction, towards the door. Lance sighed again, slamming his head against the wall once more, letting his brown hair fall in his eyes momentarily. He shivered, pulling his thin blue jacket closer and closed his eyes slowly…
"Sorry for this Lance," Keith muttered softly, shoving Lance against the wall harshly. Lance felt his eyes widen as he dropped the drink in his hand, his head colliding with the plaster behind him. Sorry? Sorry! Sorry for-
Keith's mouth pressed against his forcefully, and Lance struggled to make sense of what was happening as the music around them changed. His eyebrows furrowed, and he took a deep breath as Keith stepped forward, the smell of fresh cut grass filling Lance's atmosphere, and the lingering taste of cinnamon flooding his mouth. Sorry?
The 18-year-old took a breath, suddenly dizzy as the air around him was sucked from his lungs, replaced with an intoxicating mixture of Keith; the room around them faded until there was nothing left but the sound of Lance's blood rushing through his body. He pressed a gentle hand against Keith's chest, feeling the other boy's heart pounding strongly against his slender fingers, and Lance shivered. This… this was good…
Keith pressed his body closer and Lance could feel the muscles tense in Keith's shoulders as his hand pressed against his neck, pulling him closer towards his mouth. Keith… Keith was… kissing him…. Why? Sorry! Keith started pulling away; Lance pulled Keith back to him, forcing his lips against Keith's harshly, a smile breaking out over his face as his hand trailed down the other's arm…
Something kicked Lance's converse and the teenager jumped, pulling his jacket closer as he glanced around, realizing he was almost sprawled out on the ugly green carpet of the Paladin dormitory. He cleared his throat, running a hand through his messy hair as he glanced up at a shadowy figure looming over him. He rubbed his eyes, hoping to clear his vision as a smirk settled on his lips.
"You're drooling," Keith muttered, kicking Lance's shoe again as the younger boy struggled to sit up. Lance pushed himself into a sitting position, steading himself against the wall behind him as he glanced up towards Keith again, "What?"
"I said, you were drooling, Sharpshooter," Keith mumbled again as he slid his dorm key into the door roughly. Lance raised an eyebrow as he wiped the bottom of his chin quickly, "Sharpshooter?"
Keith paused, "Your shirt. It has some anime character on it with a gun, right?"
Lance glanced down at the shirt his mom had sent him last month because she was cleaning out his closet, "Dude. This is Ruby… from RWBY. Its- wait-"
The 18-year-old stood up quickly, steading himself against the wall as his whole world did a violent 180. He grinned, "Are you- are you telling me, you've never seen RWBY?"
Keith fidgeted with his keys before letting out a loud sigh, "Look Lance, what the hell are you doing here? I know you didn't come here to criticize what I do and don't watch. I have homework and a test to study for, so if you could just tell-"
Lance clutched at the bottom of his jacket awkwardly as he exhaled slowly, "I-uh, I need a place to crash… just for tonight. I know you have an extra bed."
"What! Why?" Keith's face hardened slightly as he adjusted his backpack. It was awkward enough to be around Lance considering the guy and his nerdy friends started hanging around Keith's table after class… but having the guy stay the night. Well, honestly, Keith couldn't think of a worse hell. Why? You afraid he's going to hurt you again…
Lance cleared his throat, running a hand over the back of his neck, "Um, look, as much as I love Hunk… I, uh, don't really want to be there when him and Shay are… playing…"
Confusion crossed Keith's face, "Playing what?"
"I- what? Dude, they are… you know," Lance threw his hands up slightly, raising an eyebrow as Keith's deadpanned expression met him. Keith crossed his arms over his chest slowly, "Stop with the charades, Lance. If Hunk and Shay are having a game night, there isn't any reason you need a place to stay."
Lance stared. Was this guy really that dense? He swallowed loudly as Keith opened his door slightly, "Keith, wait, please..."
The 19-year-old shook his head, "No, Lance." I thought we could be friends...
"Come on, man! I'll- I'll help you with something, anything," Lance whined. He glanced down at his shoe, kicking at a loose piece of doorframe softly. He didn't really want to go back, at least not tonight, not when Hunk had been planning this night for weeks.
Keith sighed loudly, pressing his forehead against the cool door. He was beyond tired, and all he wanted to do was crawl in bed, try to finish some homework and then go to sleep. But now, now he had to deal with Lance too? He turned back towards the younger boy, biting the bottom of his lip gently. Lance was staring at him intently with big blue puppy dog eyes… the fucking bastard. You're going to regret this Kogane.
Keith pushed the door open harshly, letting it swing and smack the wall behind it as he stormed in, throwing his bookbag on the ceramic floor next to his desk. He heard Lance shuffle in slowly and Keith glanced towards his left, feeling suddenly embarrassed that he had clothes and papers scattered all over the floor. The 19-year-old picked an old shirt off the floor and threw it in his equally messy closet as he turned back to face Lance.
Lance stood in the middle of the room, looking around slowly, taking in the small dorm where Keith lived. It was smaller than his and Hunk's, but then again, the Paladin dormitories were some of the first dorms ever build at Voltron in 1980. The 18-year-old ran a hand through his hair slowly, "Thanks Mullet. I really appreciate this."
Keith nodded slowly, "Yeah, don't mention it. Seriously, if Shiro knew, I'd never hear the end of it. Look, I'm going to go take a shower… just, just try not to break anything."
…
Keith groaned loudly as warm water washed over his aching muscles, dripping from his messy black hair, splattering between his toes. He took a deep breath, letting the smell of whatever soap Shiro had given him, fill his nostrils, letting the steam envelope his body, washing the day away… washing everything away.
Music blared around him as the 17-year-old forced another cup of shitty beer down his throat. He slammed the red solo cup on the counter next to the others, glancing around the tiny room as his vision wavered violently, and his head swam with intoxicating thoughts.
He stumbled slightly, reaching for another solo cup that someone was filling, yanking it from their hand and drinking it quickly as the person glared. Keith wiped his mouth slowly, handing the empty cup back to its owner. He pushed himself away from the counter, tipping over his feet, catching himself against the wall as he sunk to the floor.
People pushed passed him as he struggled to get off the spinning floor, before giving up, and pressing his back against the warm wall. He leaned his spinning head against the wall, letting sweat drip down his face as he stared past the drunken horde of horny teenagers partying in the other room. As he stared at him.
The teenagers stomach clenched violently, and Keith swallowed loudly as his eyes met his Ex's. Tears burned against Keith's cheeks as he watched some girl made out with someone who had just broken up with Keith a mere 6 hours ago. Keith ran a shaky hand through his hair as the humiliation of being lied to came rushing back to him in drunken waves. His stomach clenched again, and Keith pushed himself off the floor, pushing past the people dancing around him as he shoved the front door open harshly.
He took a deep breath, doubling over as his stomach lurched, watching nauseating alcohol rush past his lips, painting the dark green grass. The 17-year-old coughed loudly, straightening his swaying body, wiping his chin, and pulled his leather jacket closer as the wind around him picked up. He took a deep breath, feeling sick, feeling a headache begin to take refuge behind his eyes, and looked up at the night sky as he began to stumble toward his house...
The 19-year-old opened his eyes slowly, letting the stray water droplets string his eyes as he stared at the gray and blue tile of the shower wall. He ran his hands through his hair, letting soap run down his fingers as he let out a loud sigh. The bathroom door opened, and Keith paused for a second, hearing someone coming in, talking loudly before music blared through what Keith could only imagine to be a cellphone due to the shitty speaker. He rubbed his shoulders roughly, listening to the other person start the shower in the other stall, and scrubbed the remaining soap from his hair, before turning the water off.
He grabbed the towel from the bench, thankful it was barely wet from the moisture that dripped from the ceiling above, and dried quickly, grabbing a pair of hand-me-down sweatpants. The sweatpants were almost too big, but their parents didn't really have a lot of money, so Keith always welcomed hand-me-downs versus asking his mom or dad for something new. Keith sneezed softly, as he flipped through his bag, looking for the green shirt he saw earlier before a chill swept over his shivering form… You left it at Shiro's apartment, you idiot. Keith closed his eyes briefly, willing his shirt to be in the stupid black bag as he leaned against the stall wall behind him. Shit.
Something wet dripped down Keith's nose, and he opened his eyes to stare at the moisture gathering above him. A loud crash sounded from the stall next to him as someone cursed loudly, before the music stopped and another curse echoed through the small bathroom. Keith sighed again, shaking his hair slightly, letting the messy strands plaster against his face as he pulled the door open. He paused briefly, catching his reflection in the mirror, frowning as his eyes connected with the dark red burns painted across his chest… it was always worse when he got out of the shower… that's why he wore a shirt. The burns aren't what you don't want Lance to see though…
The 19-year-old glanced around the quiet hallway before walking out of the bathroom slowly. He bit his lip as his hand hovered over the gold door handle on his door, the light above him flickering slightly. Please, please be asleep. Keith opened the door slowly and let out a loud groan as his eyes connected with Lance. Keith ran a hand over his face before sweeping his wet bangs from his forehead.
The 18-year-old was sprawled out on the empty red mattress, reading the tattered version of Catcher in the Rye he had stolen from Keith's bookshelf. Lance set the book down on his chest as Keith came into the room slowly, slamming the door shut behind him, before turning towards his dresser.
"Hey. How was your sho-," Lance trailed off quietly, as he placed the book next to him. He sat up slowly as Keith rummaged through his drawers, and Lance turned the light on above him as he sucked in a low breath. What the hell happened to you, Mullet? Lance bit his lip as his eyes traced over the burn marks painting Keith's right shoulder blade, trailing down his back violently, disappearing beneath the waistband of his grey sweatpants. The skin on Keith's back stood out in pinkish hues against his pale skin, twisted and angry looking, splattered across his right arm, winding down the bicep and meeting the two-toned skin Lance knew covered Keith's hand... covered both hands. It looked horrifying. It looked painful…
Keith turned slightly, his gaze meeting Lance's before turning back towards the splintered dresser, "Stop staring."
Lance glanced down quickly, flexing his knuckles slightly as he cleared his throat. He turned his attention back towards the abandoned book next to him, and looked back up to see Keith picking up a shirt from his floor. The 19-year-old sniffed it, and Lance smirked as Keith threw the shirt in the closet, moving onto the next one that littered the floor.
Lance gasped loudly as his eyes connected with the tattoo plaguing Keith's left ribs. It looked a few years old, but the black ink still stood out vibrantly against Keith's pale flesh. Lance's eyes traced over the design, following every detail, observing every line. It was a sword, but it didn't look like any sword Lance knew. This one was long, covering from Keith's armpit to his hip; its blade was thin in the middle, curving slightly, thickening as it reached a sharp edge like a machete. The tip of the handle was almost pointed; bandages wrapped around the handle and the top part of the sword, wrapping what looked like a stone with some weird symbol on it, binding it to the blade. The symbol on the stone, like the line along the blade, seemed to glow in purple ink. It was weird, nothing Lance had seen before… but it was fucking badass. It looked badass. Lance disregarded the book once more, "Dude."
Keith looked up, his eyes following Lance's gaze as he picked up one of the red shirts laying on his desk. The 19-year-old shook his head, his long black hair still dripping, "Don't."
"But dude!" Lance stood slightly, his eyes studying the tattoo as Keith struggled to pull the shirt over his wet hair, "I said no, Lance."
Lance inched closer, excitement filling his voice, "But you have a tattoo of a sw-"
Keith forced the shirt over his head, jumping slightly, realizing Lance stood less than a foot from him. Too close. This was too close. Keith felt his face heat up as his mind raced, as his eyes looked towards Lance's lips. Peppermints… Lance tasted like peppermints. He shoved Lance back lightly, "I said shut up, Lance."
The 18-year-old stumbled slightly, falling back against the plastic lumpy mattress, a smirk plastered against his face. He shook his head slowly as Keith flopped on his back, his head propped up against the edge of the desk. Keith reached for one of the many books piled on the desk, and opened it, flipping through it until he found the place he had left off.
…Lance's hand trailing down his arm, sending shivers down Keith's spine as the younger's fingers paused at the hem of Keith's shirt. Lips pressed against lips; oxygen leaving Lance's mouth, hot and heavy, brushing against Keith's neck…
Lance squirmed, flipping from his back to his stomach, from his stomach to his side, side to back, wincing as the mattress creaked loudly. The room was quiet which was nice, but the mattress was uncomfortable, and cold… the plastic stuck to Lance's skin every time he moved, and Lance groaned loudly. He settled on his back, pulling his hands behind his head as he stared at the white speckled ceiling above him, counting the stains, wondering how they got there.
The 18-year-old turned slightly, smiling softly as he saw Keith laying in the other bed, one arm behind his head, a book in another. He seemed to be concentrating. Lance sighed again, looking back towards the ceiling, clicking his tongue several times as silence filled the small room. He wasn't very good with silence…
"Can I ask you a question?" He asked softly, kicking his shoes off, letting them smack against the tiled floor loudly. Keith flipped the page, sighing, "If it's about the tattoo, then no."
Lance exhaled, closing his eyes as he tried to think of something else to ask, letting his mind wander. He shifted again, grimacing as his skin peeled off the mattress sickeningly, and he shivered. Keith mumbled something, before something soft smacked Lance in the face.
The 18-year-old shot up quickly, grabbing the object in his hands, clenching it between his fingers before realizing he was holding a pillow. He threw it behind him, resting against it gently, shifting to his side, facing Keith. The 19-year-old raised an eyebrow and looked over at Lance. He felt himself blush slightly, realizing Lance was staring at him.
"What?" Keith growled, closing his book, placing it on the floor next to him.
Lance shrugged, "You have a blanket?"
"For the love of God, Lance, here!" Keith muttered, hurling a blanket towards Lance. Lance reached out, nearly falling off the bare mattress as he caught the soft fabric in his hands. He glanced down at the blanket as he threw it over himself, and smirked. It was a kid's blanket… with Power Rangers on it. It was childish beyond belief.
Lance looked up questionably. Keith watched him, waiting, daring Lance to say something. The younger snorted, leaning back down, pulling his hands once again behind his head as he glanced towards the ceiling. He shivered slightly, but the room wasn't as cold now, and he closed his eyes, listening to Keith shift in the bed across the room.
Lance cleared his throat, "You want to play 20 questions?"
"No," Keith muttered, switching the light off and glancing towards the clock. It was almost 12:00am. Keith groaned inwardly as he forced his eyes shut. He had work in less than 5 hours… not to mention, he pulled a double tomorrow, considering they were off for some school holiday. Keith pushed the blanket off as the heater kicked on, feeling sweat beginning to form on his chest. Normally he would sleep shirtless, but with Lance here, there was no way in hell he was prepared to do that. I thought we could be friends…
Keith felt his mind begin to drift, his breathing even out as sleep started to fill his exhausted mind. His body hurt from work, but it was his own fault considering he went with Shiro to the gym beforehand… Shiro's workouts were harder than Keith's. Keith let out a soft sigh, his body relaxing as Lance's voice hit his ears.
"Are you allergic to anything? I'm allergic to sunscreen, which is weird. My mam-," Lance started. Keith groaned, "Good night, Lance."
Lance shift again, bringing his legs to his chest, trying to warm his toes. He wasn't tired… He was more of a night owl, so him and Hunk would always stay up talking. Lance swallowed, "Why does that Brad guy hate you so much?"
Keith flinched. He shifted to his side, his back towards Lance. Despite it being dark, Keith didn't want Lance to see the expression on his face. Because I did something terrible, He thought…
"Today, the student council leader, Keith Kogane, will be delivering a speech about bullying in our afterschool assembly. Teachers, students, and parents are welcome to attend…" someone continued over the shitty intercom.
The 17-year-old groaned loudly, pressing his head against his desk, thankful the cool wood offered some relief to the embarrassing warmth that washed over him. Despite staying home yesterday, his head still hurt, but Shiro wasn't going to let Keith miss two days because he was still fighting a stupid hangover. Keith was lucky Shiro had let him miss yesterday… hell, he was lucky his brother promised not to tell their parents…
Lance sucked in another breath. He peered at Keith through the darkness. The older boy hadn't said anything in a while, which probably meant he had fallen asleep… or was close to it. Lance licked his lips as question raced through his mind. He couldn't fall asleep, even if he wanted too, he was too wound up. He was too interested… Keith was like a Pandora's box of mysteries, and for some reason, Lance wanted to know more. Stop talking. Stop talking, Lance. You're just being annoying! Lance bit his lip, "So what's the deal with the tattoo?"
Keith groaned, "Jesus, McClain. Can't you just shut up for five minutes! I swear you are the most annoying human being at this stupid college. No wonder you needed a place to crash, Hunk probably started making shit up, just so you would leave." The 19-year-old closed his eyes briefly, regret flowing through his body as the words left his mouth. He hadn't meant to sound so harsh. I just wanted you to feel my pain… it's what I do… pathetic, right?
Keith fumbled with the blanket that was laying across his legs, as he turned towards Lance, "Hey, Lance. I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"
"Forget it," Lance whispered. The younger boy turned on his side again, feeling suddenly vulnerable. He knew he was being annoying. He knew he was being a burden… he just couldn't help it. He wanted to talk to someone.
The 18-year-old let out a loud sigh, drawing his knees back towards his chest as the heater kicked on again. He closed his eyes, willing his body to relax as he breathed in the familiar scent on the blanket. It smelled like Keith. It smelled nice. I should have just gone to Lacey's.
Keith sighed loudly as awkward silence hung in the air heavily. He shifted to his back, pushing a hand behind his head, letting his other rest on top of his chest as he continued to stare at the ceiling. Despite feeling mentally and physically drained, Keith knew he wouldn't be able to sleep till he made things right.
"I knew what you meant," Keith whispered. He heard Lance's bed squeak slightly as the boy moved, "What?"
Keith took a breath, "Earlier. When you were talking about Hunk and Shay. I knew what you meant…I just wanted you to say it."
"Oh."
Keith bit his lip as Lance's voice reached his ears. He sounded hurt. He sounded down. That was Keith's fault. Lance was just being nice. I have a girlfriend.
Keith cleared his throat, "Strawberries."
Confusion crossed Lance's face as he turned towards the ceiling, "What?"
Keith ran a hand through his hair, "You said you were allergic to sunscreen… strawberries, I-I'm allergic to strawberries. Can't eat them, or anything with the flavor, for that matter."
The warm room was quiet for a few minutes, and Keith could hear a door slam down the hall, followed by someone yelling something. Please say something… He pressed his lips together, adjusting the pillow behind him, letting his right leg hang off the bed, his foot skimming the cold ground. Lance laughed softly, "That sucks, Mullet."
Keith snorted, "Shut up."
Lance shot up, propping himself up on his elbow, "No, I'm serious. Like strawberry is the best flavor… of like anything."
Keith grabbed the pillow behind his head, flinging it towards Lance as the younger boy jumped out of the way. The pillow smacked against the poster-covered wall with a soft thump, and Lance threw it back, smacking Keith in the face. The older boy rolled his eyes, "Goodnight, Lance."
…
Keith adjusted the strap on his bookbag as he kicked at some melted snow. The wind whipped around him, forcing his hoodie down, and the 19-year-old shivered slightly as Lance continued to ramble next to him. He paused briefly as Lance bent down to pick up a frozen leaf.
Despite it being close to March, most of the campus was still covered in snow. The white fluff was nice to look at, but because the campus had been mostly mud last Fall, a muddy slush now covered its grounds. This, on the other hand, wasn't pleasant to look at. However, the weather was starting to heat up and the snow was beginning to melt, which was good considering Lance hated the cold. Keith only knew this because Lance had managed to steal almost every blanket from Keith's bed.
Keith adjusted his jacket, and turned to see Lance still walking next to him, rambling about some anime show Keith should be watching. It had been two weeks since Lance had crashed at Keith's dorm… and since then, he had come back almost every night. The older boy had been rather surprised, realizing that some of Lance's stuff had made it into his dorm, strewn on the spare desk and bed. It was kind of nice to have someone to talk to. But why?
Lance bumped his shoulder and Keith turned towards him. Lance raised an eyebrow, "You alright man? You've really been spacing out on me lately."
Keith nodded slowly. Are you really alright? Lance had been around basically 24/7, annoyingly rambling about things Keith didn't really care about, but for some reason, Keith didn't want Lance to leave. He hadn't thought about that night lately, he hadn't thought about the kiss lately, and yet, Keith still felt embarrassed. He still felt hurt. It was confusing. It didn't mean anything… I have a girlfriend.
Lance poked at Keith's jacket, "So, Keefers, how many tattoos do you have?"
Keith shook his head, shifting his backpack to his other shoulder as he opened the Common Area door, "Don't call me that."
He scanned the crowded hall, groaning loudly as he grabbed an empty tray, handing one to Lance. The cashier line was ridiculous, and despite it being midday Friday, people were still hovering around tables. Keith rolled his eyes; he had work in less than an hour and figured the best place to grab something to eat would be the Common Area café considering it was cheap… but with this line…
Lance nudged Keith's shoulder, grabbing an apple from one of the baskets, "Alright Man. So, how many tattoos do you have?"
Keith glanced at his watch before looking back at the line. It would take him about an hour to get to work, as long as the traffic wasn't bad, but if this line didn't hurry up, he would have to eat on the go. He felt someone nudge his ribs again and turned towards Lance briefly, "Uh… three..."
Maybe I can get something at work? The lines moved like 3 inches…
"What! You have three tattoos?" Lance pushed Keith's tray with his and Keith turned back towards Lance, a confused expression written on his face, "Yeah… wait what? No, I have four. Look, Lance, can we talk later? I'm trying to figure something out…"
Lance groaned loudly, "See Mullethead, I was right. You're pretty cool. So, when did you get your first one?"
The older boy gripped his blue tray in his hands tightly. Lance was talkative today… it was getting on Keith's nerves. What are you even doing here, Lance? Why have you been spending so much time with me! It's fucking with my mind…
Keith looked towards Lance, opening his mouth to say something as a loud crash sounded at the front of the line. Both boys directed their attention towards the commotion and Keith sighed loudly. Someone had gotten in a fight, knocking over the only working cash register, change was rolling everywhere as the cashier scrambled to grab the loose money before anyone else. Keith pushed the empty tray against the silver rails, "Fuck this."
He wiped his nose with his sleeve, turning away from the scene, and started towards the exit. Normally he would wait… or be like Shiro and try to break up the fight, but he couldn't be late… he couldn't lose his shitty job. His parents needed the money. Keith shoved the door open with his shoulder, pulling his red hoodie closer towards his body as the wind howled around him and icy slush hit his face.
"Keith!"
The 19-year-old turned around slightly, seeing Lance running after him. Keith bit his bottom lip, shoving his hands in his pockets. He felt Lance's hand on his shoulder, and turned around, shaking Lance's hand away, "Are you alright?" No.
Keith sat on his bed, his sweaty back pressed against the bulletin board behind him as he glanced up from his textbook. He smiled slightly, biting his pen cap harshly as he watched Lance rubbing at the blue gunk he called a facemask, off his face. It was a weird thing to watch… but it was memorizing.
Lance looked up, "What are you staring at, Mullet?"
Keith snapped back to reality, shrugging his shoulders, looking back down at his Sign Language book, "Nothing, Blue."
"Blue?" Lance laughed loudly, and Keith looked up, smirking, "You look kind of like a Smurf."
"Do I?" Lance asked, scrubbing the remaining blue shit from his face gently. Keith nodded, returning his attention back towards the book in his hands. He wasn't really sure what he was supposed to be reading; hell, he hadn't really been concentrating on it for the past two hours. Having Lance here… it was too distracting.
"You need help with that?"
Keith choked, spitting the pen cap from his mouth, wiping spit that trailed down his chin, "What?"
Lance nodded towards the book before standing, rummaging through his green gym bag, looking for a clean shirt, "I know Sign Language… if you need help."
"Yeah," Keith snorted, "I'm sure you do…"
The 19-year-old looked up, looking back down quickly as he realized Lance was changing shirts. He felt red flush across his face and he peered back up slowly as the younger struggled to pull the green shirt from his head. You could see the muscles in Lance's chest flex slightly as he pulled harder, his biceps tensing slightly… shit.
Lance forced the shirt from his head, his hair standing in different directions as he reached for the blue shirt on his bed. He glanced towards Keith to find him staring, "Dude. That's pretty gay."
Keith swallowed, looking down at his book, feeling his face growing hotter, "Fuck you. You're gay."
Lance shook his head, "No, I'm not. I'm Bi. Always have been, always will be."
The 18-year-old flopped down next to Keith, pulling the textbook from his hands, flipping through the pages slowly. Keith ran a hand through his hair, "What are you doing?"
Lance looked up and Keith's breathing caught momentarily as he noticed those stupid freckles standing out against Lance's tanned face… fuck.
"You need help, right? In this class? So you can keep your scholarship?" Lance asked softly, leaning against the dresser at the opposite end of the bed. Keith nodded cautiously, scooting back till the edge of the desk dug into his back painfully.
Lance sighed, "Alright then. I'll make you a deal. You help me with math because that is the only class I'm pulling a C. And I'll help you with ASL. Deal?"
Lance held his hand out childishly. Keith stared at his long slender fingers, flashing back to that night, flashing back to them running through his hair. He let out a slow breath, "Deal."
"I'm fine, Lance," Keith said quickly, turning back towards the wind. Seriously, why are you here?
Lance walked beside him, "Ok… you seem really on edge today. I know Shiro and Allura come back tonight, I mean if you're worried about them, they'll be okay-"
Keith paused, closing his eyes briefly. He forgot Shiro was out of town. Allura and him had gone on a three-day mini vacation to scope out New York. Both were hoping to move there one day, after they graduated next year, and Shiro had mentioned something about getting familiar with the area. It was all bullshit really.
Keith turned back towards Lance, "Look, Lance. I appreciate you hanging around and everything, but don't you have a girlfriend?"
Confusion crossed Lance's face as he nodded slowly, "Yeah, she hasn't been to school for at least a week because her grandmother passed. She comes back tomo-"
Keith bit his lip, "Then maybe you should start hanging out with her more than me."
Lance stepped forward, "Keith, I-"
"Lance," Keith said, pulling his keys from his bookbag, trying to find his motorcycle key, "I-I'm not really a great guy, alright? I'm not really good with interaction, and I think it's great you find me cool and everything, but if you knew me, you wouldn't be saying that…"
Lance took a step forward as Keith shoved him back, "Look man, I'm- I'm late for work."
Keith grasped his bookbag tighter, feeling his nails digging into his skin as hurt flashed across Lance's face. It's not his fault you have feelings for him, asshole. He groaned loudly, thrusting his hand in his pocket, and turned back towards the parking lot, gripping his bike key. He winced slightly as Lance's voice reached his ears, "Jerk."
You don't get it, Keith thought as he trudged towards the furthest parking lot, hoping his bike would start…
…..