Okay, so, I mentioned to wait for chapter 8, but that is now being pushed to chapter 9! SUPER EXCITED for chapter 9, which will be posted by next weekend. This chapter got SUPER long because there was and is a lot I wanted to incorporate in here; however, the second half of this (chapter 8) will be up tomorrow.
For this chapter, please keep in mind and be WARNED that I do mention suicidal themes/ actions... so this chapter is very dark. If you want to wait until I post chapter 8/9, definitely do it! Chapter 8 isn't as dark but there are still dark themes. Chapter 9 is just *squeals* - wait and see :)
Okay lovelies, stay safe! Please be warned!
KB
P.S. The song I mention in here is "Broken" by Lovelytheband
…...
Tears flooded his eyes as he glanced at his reflection in the mirror; brown hair, tanned freckled flesh and blues eyes, stared back at him as Lance gripped the white porcelain sink harder. It should have been you, because honestly, the wrong son died…
He flinched as something loud smashed against his door, voices yelling as his mother screamed something incoherent, his father matching her tone, cursing loudly. There was a loud bang as glass broke, a door slamming, and Lance let out a steady breath as he heard his sister starting to cry. He glanced back towards the sink, blood beginning to drip down his right hand, trailing down his sun kissed skin, tracing the older scars painting his arm. He swallowed loudly, trying to swallow the lump in his throat as his sister banged against the door, screaming for Lance to come out, screaming for Lance to break up his parents.
Lance coughed, pressing his fingers against the white sink, his knuckles turning white, the pressure hurting his hands, his short nails bending against the porcelain. He glanced back up, the light hurting his eyes slightly. The room spun slowly, the pale blues and tans of the wallpaper mixing together in a nauseating swirl of desperate colors. Lance shivered…
"I just want you to know, this is all your fault, Lance. Mom and dad fighting, Sebastian drinking, Lexi quitting school… it's all because of what you let happen. What happened to him- it's because of you-"
The 16-year-old felt his arms shaking, and his knees buckled as he let out a loud sob. It should have been you. It should have been you. It should have been-
Lance pressed his back against the bathroom door, letting the splintered wood cut into his back as he slid against it, letting himself fall until his legs were sprawled out in front of him. He looked down at the soft green jacket sitting next to him, a faint smile settling on his lips as his fingers touched the yellow band wrapped around the worn fabric. He bundled the jacket in his arms and pressed his nose against the grey hood, inhaling deeply. It still smelled like him. It still smelled like Jamie.
Lance bit his lip, leaning his head against the door, closing his eyes as tears washed down his face silently. He heard his parents yelling at each other again, the door slamming, his sister screaming, his mother crying... Lance buried his head in the green fabric again, letting the memories wash through him as his mind raced, his fingers curled around the small sharp object clasped in his right hand. It should have been you…
The 18-year-old jerked awake, breathing heavily as he pulled his body away from the window, pushing himself forward as he tried to force air into his lungs. He gulped, feeling sweat coating his face as he tried to calm himself, tears stinging his eyes, his right hand shaking harshly. He looked down, clenching his fingers tightly, watching the pressure turning his knuckles white, feeling his fingernails dig into his flesh as a soft hand touched his shoulder. It should have been you, Lance.
Lance flinched, looking up, wiping away the tears sitting in his eyes as he met Allura's worried face, several inches away from his. The teenager swallowed, clearing his throat as he pressed his hand against his thigh, his fingernails still digging into flesh, keeping him grounded. He opened his mouth, trying to find the words, but instead pressed his lips together tightly, hoping, praying that the tears that sat in his eyes weren't as noticeable as they felt. He forced a shaky smile.
"Lance," Allura asked softly, her eyebrows scrunching together as she tucked a strand of white hair behind her ear, "Are you alright?"
Lance nodded slowly, pressing his still shaking hand tighter against his thigh, hoping she couldn't see it, hoping she couldn't see how bad it was shaking, how bad it hurt. He leaned back against the seat, pressing his back against the soft old fabric, closing his eyes briefly as he let out a slow breath. He heard Allura sigh softly as Shiro asked her something. This is your fault.
Lance opened his eyes, unclenching his fingers slowly, feeling his body beginning to relax. He glanced down at his hand, spreading his fingers apart carefully, watching, waiting for the muscles to still. He sighed loudly, leaning his head against the window, letting the cool glass mesh against his sweaty forehead as he watched trees and houses pass by him outside, the sun weaving between clouds peacefully.
Awkward silence filled the tiny car and Lance glanced towards his right, smiling slightly as his eyes met Keith's slumbering form. The older boy's face was pressed against the opposite window, his mouth hanging open slightly, his messy black hair covering his eyes. Lance snorted, turning back towards his window, wringing his hands slightly as the car jerked forward and Shiro let out a soft curse.
Lance exhaled again, playing with one of the colored bands on his left wrist, pulling the yellowed rubber band back, stretching it as far as it would go before it threatened to break, before letting it go, before letting it smack against his wrist harshly. It's getting back again, Lance… Isn't it? You know, you can tell me… you can talk to me if it gets too bad…
Lance cleared his throat, pushing himself away from the window, shoving his jacket sleeves down passed the bands as he scooted towards the middle seat. He bit his bottom lip and stilled slightly as Keith shifted besides him. Oh no. Keith's face twisted slightly, his eyebrows drawing together as he let out a soft groan, and Lance held his breath. Please, Keith… don't wake up…
Lance's back was pressed against the bulletin board behind him. He was flipping through one of Keith's old books slowly, a faint smile forming on his lips as he watched Keith trying to sign whatever sentence was written on his homework. The younger boy closed the book, placing it on the desk next to him as his phone buzzed against his leg.
"What are you trying to sign?" Lance asked softly, glancing down at his phone. Lacey's name popped up on the screen and Lance pressed ignore, looking back towards Keith. Lance had about twenty minutes before he was supposed to meet her at Alliro Coffeehouse to go over their Chemistry assignment for Thursday's class.
Keith crossed his legs, pulling his textbook closer, "I don't even fucking know."
Lance chuckled, "Well, if you're trying to say that, you're doing a terrible job…"
Keith sighed loudly, running a hand through his hair. He leaned back against the wall, his head pressing against one of the green thumbtacks holding up his class schedule. It had taken nearly an hour for Shiro to come get them, then another two before they were able to fix his bike… this meant Keith only had the evening to study for his exam tomorrow morning. And at this rate, he was going to fail.
Keith groaned loudly, closing his eyes as pressure slowly began to make its way behind his eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping to reelevate some of the tension, because a headache was the last thing he needed right now.
Lance stood, gripping his phone in his hand, reaching for his blue bookbag that was somehow crammed under the twin bed. He threw the crappy bag on the mattress before stretching, touching the light hanging on the ceiling above him. He heard Keith groan and turned his attention back towards the other side of the room. The older boy looked beyond tired… and stressed, on edge. He'd been that way since they got back earlier this afternoon, since the incident last night…
"Can I ask you a question?"
Keith cleared his throat, "If I say no, will that stop you?"
The older boy opened his eyes slowly, watching as Lance reached for some of his textbooks, shoving them in his bag slightly. Lance glanced towards him, his phone vibrating again, "Probably not."
Keith nodded, "Sure."
Lance reached for a yellow notebook, flipping through it before ripping out a few pages, "Can you feel them coming? The panic attacks?"
Keith swallowed. He had hoped Lance would forget about last night, about the fight, about Keith's breakdown… about the kiss…
The 19-year-old pressed his lips together as he continued to watch Lance shove books in his backpack. He looked down at the scars on his hands, tracing over the smooth burned flesh, swallowing loudly. No one had ever asked him that before… it was kind of a weird question.
Lance cleared his throat, zipping his bag shut, "You don't have to, man. I just-"
"Yeah," Keith said, looking back up, digging his nails into the cardboard backing of his textbook, "I can feel them coming… but I can't stop it. No matter how hard I try to think about something else, or how hard I try to relax… I just can't. My skin, it starts to burn, to itch, and I feel sick and dizzy. I can't breathe. My body… it stops working and it feels like-"
"You're drowning," Lance swallowed. Keith glanced towards him, confusion etched on his face as he nodded slowly. Lance glanced down at his phone again as it vibrated in his hand. Lacey. He let his thumb hover over the 'talk' button, biting his lip harshly. He hadn't seen his girlfriend for two weeks… but, for some reason, Lance really didn't want to deal with her today. He watched, shifting his bag in his hand, as the screen went black, before a small box popped up, letting him know he had missed a call. Five calls… all from her.
The 18-year-old thumbed through his contacts, stopping at her number. It feels like you're drowning… but you don't know how to get out of the water, he thought. Lance dropped his bag and turned his phone off before slipping it in his pocket slowly. He sighed loudly, running his hand through his hair as he glanced back towards Keith, a small smirk painting his face, "So, honestly Mullet, what were you trying to sign?"
Keith shifted again, pulling his red hoodie closer as Lance fiddled with his hands nervously. The last thing he needed, the last thing he wanted right now, was for Keith to wake up… for Keith to have another panic attack… because of him.
"He'll be out for a few hours… trust me," Shiro said softly.
Lance looked up, licking his lips slightly as Shiro looked back, a reassuring smile plastered to his face. The younger boy nodded slowly, relaxing as Keith began to still next to him, letting out a loud sigh. Lance ran another hand through his hair. The 18-year-old grabbed the water bottle sitting in the front seat cup holder, unscrewing the cap slowly, before taking a long drink.
"So, Lance, what exactly do you think of my brother?"
Lance choked, coughing loudly as water blocked his airways, his face turning red from lack of oxygen and… embarrassment. He felt water drip from his chin and wiped at it quickly, hoping to keep it from reaching the floor. He glanced up shakily as he forced air down his burning throat, tears filling his eyes as he struggled to breathe properly. What do you think of Keith. What do you think of Keith? What do you think of Keith!
"Ex-excuse me?" He said shakily, screwing the cap back on and glancing at Keith to make sure the older boy hadn't heard him. He looked back towards the windshield, pressing his shoulders against the passenger and driver seat so his head was between Shiro and Allura, still sucking down air shallowly. Shiro chuckled loudly as Allura smacked his arm, "I'm only kidding, Lance. I didn't mean to scare you."
Lance let out a loud sigh, loosening his grip on the plastic bottle and letting his head fall slightly, trying to hide the heated red flushed across his face. The car jerked again, and Lance peered through the dirty glass, a green road sign passing by the black car, letting Lance know they were 134 miles from wherever in the hell they were going. He wasn't really sure why he had agreed to accompany Shiro and Keith on a weekend road trip home… maybe it had something to do with Shiro being an impeccably smooth-talker, or Keith's endless begging for him not to come… but regardless the reason, Lance was currently trapped in a small black car with two Koganes and one Allura… heading somewhere.
Lance leaned forward further, focusing the front seat air vent towards him, hoping the ancient car had enough airflow to reach his sweaty face. He swallowed, leaning back against the seat behind him, clasping the water bottle in his hands. A smile crossed his face as he watched Shiro extend his right hand slightly, resting it over the empty cup holder as Allura's fingers intertwined with his, her thumb running over the metal prosthetic hand gently. No one will love you like that… you're just in the way, Lance.
The 18-year-old cleared his throat, "So, it's your dad's birthday?"
"Yeah," Shiro nodded, "Ever since the accident, mom has this thing where she makes a big deal out of every holiday and birthday. Keith hates it."
Lance pushed his sleeves up slightly, wiping at some of the sweat forming on his face, "Why? It sounds nice."
Shiro let go of Allura's hand, flipping on his left blinker, "It's a long story… but uh, something happened last year with his mom. He doesn't talk about it much…"
Lance scooted forward, pressing his shoulders against the cloth seats again as confusion masked his face, "Wait. His mom?"
Shiro cleared his throat, "Yeah bud. You know Keith and I aren't actually related, right? We're stepbrothers. His dad married my mom when I was like 12."
"Holy shit," Lance ran a hand over his face again. Honestly, he hadn't known. Shiro and Keith looked so similar. Allura laughed softly before turning to face Lance, "I hadn't known either, Lance. Keith brought it up one year when I was spending Christmas with them."
"Yeah, I guess we look alike… or we did before everything," Shiro came to a red light, turning towards Lance and smirking slightly, "Keith was the angriest little 7-year-old I had ever met. It was kind of adorable… in a little kid kind of way. He kept trying to act all tough and mighty, like he was bigger than he was, but it was hard to take the kid seriously because he was missing two front teeth and always covered in Power Rangers band-aids."
Lance snorted. He cleared his throat, wiping the back of his hands on his jeans. Sweat was still forming on his body, which was weird considering he didn't get hot easily, but ever since Spring hit, the weather had changed drastically. Hot sunny days Lance was used too, growing up on the coast… but this, this was a different type of heat. It was hot and heavy, humid and sweaty. It sucked.
Shiro turned back towards the road, running a hand through his hair as he changed lanes, "I'll never forget this one time. I think I was 14. I was walking home from school and some of these kids from my class were following me. They had a problem with me for some reason and when I was a few houses from mine, they jumped me. I mean, they just started wailing on me, and I remember I glanced towards our door, hoping our dad was home because I couldn't break free. But next thing I know, here comes Keith, in a white tank top and Scooby-Doo shorts, swinging a wooden bat. I mean, the kid just starts hitting them and they all started scattering, running everywhere. Keith's chasing after them, swinging his bat, threatening them," Shiro laughed loudly, "He had to have been about 9, but he wasn't scared of them. He's always kind of been like that, you know? Fearless."
Lance turned towards Keith, smirking. It wasn't hard to picture Keith as a rough and tough little kid… he had the same attitude now. Hard and stubborn on the outside, afraid to show the world who he really was. I thought we could be friends…
Shiro cleared his throat, glancing in the rearview mirror briefly, "Did he tell you he used to smoke?"
Lance turned back towards the front, raising an eyebrow, "Really?"
Shiro nodded, "Yeah, quit shortly after his mom."
Lance shivered slightly, the sweat drying against his skin as the cold air forced itself free from the vents in the front of the car loudly. He leaned back slowly, letting silence hang heavy in the air as the low hum of the car echoed around them. He glanced down at the multi-colored bands on his arm, hiding some of the scars, tracing his thumb over the blue one gently. He swallowed lightly before pulling his sleeves back over his arms and leaning his head against the headrest. You think Sebastian smoking and drinking is just him? No. It's all you, Lance. They might forgive you, but I never will…
"Shiro?" He asked softly, watching as the older boy glanced towards him in the rearview mirror, "Yeah bud?"
Lance bit his lip, "C-can I ask you a question? It's kind of weird and personal; I'm just curious."
Shiro's eyes flicked back towards the road briefly as he flipped on the headlights, before looking back towards the mirror, "Anything."
"When Keith, um… when did he come out? I mean, your mom and dad, and you-," Lance trailed off. How did they take it? Why do you want to know? Why do you care?
Shiro turned his attention back towards the road, sighing heavily. The sun was beginning to set in the distance, wavering just below the visor, making it hard to see the road properly, gleaming off the neon signs around them. The older boy glanced towards Allura, smiling softly, watching her tuck some hair behind her ear again, pulling sunglasses and Twizzlers from her bag on the floor. He ran a hand through his hair slowly, "Honestly Lance, I think I always knew. Keith's always been Keith, you know?"
Shiro glanced towards the backseat. Lance's eyes were fixed on the road, his fingers messing with the bottom of his zipper on his green hoodie. Shiro bit his lip, "He came out to me first… he was 17. Honestly, I don't really know what happened but whatever it was, it really fucked him up. He got wasted one night at this party and tried to sneak into the house through my window… He was a complete mess."
Lance scooted back towards his side of the car, pulling his knees and feet up on the seat next to him. He pressed his head against the window again, letting sweat begin to creep on his face once more, the cold glass chilling the back of his neck. Shiro swallowed loudly, "I, uh, it was the worst night of my life."
Lance sucked in a low breath, swallowing the worry that started to climb his throat as he glanced towards the back of Shiro's head. He didn't think Shiro of all people… Shiro let out a shaky breath and Allura ran a hand through his hair softly, mumbling something that Lance couldn't catch. Silence filled the car again, filling the awkward, sweaty spaces around them as Lance shoved his hands in his hoodie pockets, shifting slightly. He shouldn't have asked… that wasn't the answer he had wanted. You've fucked up this family so much, and now, now this! You're pathetic…
The car groaned loudly as it came to a slow stop and Lance looked to his left, watching an elderly woman pushing a stroller passed them. He rubbed the back of his neck, hoping to rub the tension beginning to build there, biting his lip as the car pressed forward. Shiro cleared his throat, "Lance, I want you to understand something. It was the worst night of my life not because Keith had come out- it would never ever be because of that. Ever. But… it was the worst night of my life, because I felt like the world's shittiest brother. I mean Keith, the kid was a complete mess, and he was so nervous, he was so scared… it broke my heart."
Shiro tightened his grip on the steering wheel, "He thought I would hate him… that we would hate him, that we would stop loving him because of who he was. It broke my heart that he would ever think that… that somehow, somewhere along the line we had unconsciously created an environment that would bring him to a conclusion like that, or someone had planted that idea in his head. Because, honestly, that would never ever happen. Because no matter what, I would always be his big brother; mom and dad would always be his parents- nothing he could ever say or do would change that, ever… Lance, it was the worst night of my life because on that day, on that night, I felt like I had failed as an older brother."
Lance pressed his back against the seat, letting the sticky sweat soak into his too thick jacket, drip from his neck, disappearing beneath his shirt. He pressed his hand against his thigh again, digging into the flesh, hoping to stop the tears that threatened to swell in his eyes. They might be able to forgive you Lance, for Jamie, for everything… but I won't, I can't. Lexi can't look at you, Sebastian can't talk to you. You've fucked this family up so much. And now, now this! Honestly Lance, the wrong brother died…
Beside him, Keith shifted slightly, and Lance swallowed, wishing he could reach over and grasp the older boy's hand, wishing he could go back to that night in the playhouse when Keith had shown Lance a softer side of himself, wishing he could take comfort in Keith's pain instead of drowning in his own. You're going to break again, McClain… You're going to break because you're slowly drowning…
Shiro sighed again, reaching over to grab some Twizzlers from Allura, before his eyes flicked back up at the rearview mirror, "I never understood why people, family especially, could ever make a person feel that way about themselves. I never understood how a family could make someone feel so alone. So isolated. So hated. You know what I mean, Lance?"
Lance looked up, his blue eyes meeting Shiro's briefly before he looked away, gritting his teeth, watching the sun setting on the other side of the passenger window. It looked so peaceful, so friendly, soft and elegant… but it was a lie. It was all a beautiful lie, hidden behind a burning gas of unforgiving heat that could burn away wings, melt away emotions, drowning its victims in an endless and unbreathable hell. Lance closed his eyes and touched the rubber bands on his wrist, swallowing loudly. I know all too well… This is all your fault.
…..
Out of all the endless objects Lance McClain had imagined to litter Keith's childhood bedroom, rocks were not one of them. But passed the wall decorated in dorky Star Wars posters, passed the horrendous collage of multitudinous pictures taped to closet doors, and passed the loosely strung planets hanging in the left corner, sitting on top of an old-looking bookshelf in Keith's 9x9 square foot bedroom, sat seven medium rocks. The rocks, however, weren't what captured Lance's interest. Instead, it was the googly eyes glued to each of them, in pairs of two, angled towards the door so they were the first thing you saw when you entered.
The 18-year-old dropped his bag on the floor slowly, pulling his jacket from his body as he inched closer towards the bookshelf, a smile toying with his lips as he touched one of the rocks. He shivered as his fingers traced over the cold stone, stopping slightly near some dried glue, letting his thumb ghost over one of the plastic eyes gently, hoping his touch wouldn't force the eye off. He smirked before stepping back slowly as he glanced around the room.
Keith's tiny dorm was messy, disorganized and vacant. He didn't have any pictures up, no posters or cards from home, nothing that really resembled his interests, his hobbies, or himself. He just had books, piles and piles of worn and torn books, littered with messy handwriting that Lance had only assumed was Keith's. But his room…
Lance closed his eyes slowly, pressing his hand against the wall, letting his fingers trace over the old posters, breathing deeply as he took in the warm smell of cinnamon and grass. Keith's bedroom was different; it felt different; it looked different. The cracks and crevices, walls and floor told an old story, harbored by memories of a life Lance didn't and wouldn't know. Unlike the plain walls surrounding them back at Keith's dorm, the walls surrounding them here, wore the things that the older boy found interesting. fascinating… it was so much more than the old books living in Keith's dorm back at Voltron. This was a part of him… a part of his soul.
Lance opened his eyes, smiling slightly as he took in every aspect of the room. He grabbed his bag from the floor, placing it on the bottom of the bunkbed, before taking his shoes off slowly. He ran a hand through his hair as he glanced at the top bunk, smirking as his eyes met the weary ones of a rather ancient looking hippo. The gray color had long faded and instead turned a weird off-white, the right arm of the stuffed toy looked like it had once been ripped off then sown back on in bright orange thread; the sticky mark of a band-aid still evident over the wound.
Lance turned back towards the door, peeking his head out slowly, listening to Allura and Shiro talking in another room a few feet away, and water slashing against tile as Keith continued his shower. The younger boy sighed softly, stepping back inside the small room, walking towards the closet doors. The double doors were mirrors… or what was left, behind the amateur assortment of pictures taped to them. Lance let his fingers slide over the photos, one by one, taking in a hidden part of Keith he didn't know.
There were so many photos; some of Shiro and Keith, some of people Lance couldn't place, some of Pidge and Matt. The 18-year-old's eyes stopped on a photo of a young Keith, smiling widely, his bottom tooth missing, ice cream smeared across his chin. In the background, Shiro was hanging off some monkey bars, pointing towards the camera, his mouth opened as if he was yelling. They looked happy, peaceful. Lance smirked. He glanced further down, looking over birthday parties, Christmases, Matt and Shiro playing video games, Pidge with longer hair, people dressed in cosplay, others dressed in formal wear. He glanced past Shiro and Allura from few years ago, two older people Lance assumed were Keith and Shiro's parents, Keith smoking while leaning against some brick wall, younger Shiro giving Keith a piggyback ride, vacations… family. We can't look at you without thinking about him…
Lance settled on another photo of an older Keith, laying across some bleachers, sunglasses on, holding a kitten against his chest. He looked only a few years younger than he was now, the burn mark on his right shoulder visible in the bottom of the picture. Lance grinned. Honestly, Keith didn't seem like a cat person.
Lance jumped slightly as his phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced down briefly, pressing the small device to his ear as his eyes continued to trace over the photos, "Hello?"
"Lance! Baby! I haven't seen you in forever!" Lacey yelled. The 18-year-old winced, pulling the phone away from his ear before running his hand through his hair, turning to face the door as Keith came in. Lance swallowed softly, running a hair through his hair as his eyes glanced over the tattoo taking up a majority of Keith's left side. Normally the other boy wouldn't let Lance look at it for too long… but lately… lately Keith seemed more comfortable around him. It was nice.
Keith nodded towards him, drying his hair with a blue towel before plopping down on the bottom bunk. He leaned his head against the wall behind him, letting his right foot hang off the bed as he threw the dirty towel on the ground. The older boy folded his arms over his chest slightly, shivering as the cold air pricked against his naked chest. Normally he'd put a shirt on but considering Lance had already seen the tattoo and the burns, and the fact that Lance was standing in front of the closet where his shirts were, Keith was stuck in some old sweatpants he'd found in the bathroom until Lance decided to move.
He ran a hand through his hair, groaning loudly as Lance pressed the phone against his ear once more. He swallowed softly, pulling his feet up on the bed as Lacey's name left Lance's lips. Keith closed his eyes slowly, pressing his head harder against the plastered wall. It wasn't surprising the other boy was talking to her… after all, she was Lance's girlfriend. It meant nothing… good, I have a girlfriend. I thought you seemed cool…
Keith clenched his fist momentarily as Lance laughed, before sitting up, crossing his legs and running his hands over his wet hair, shaking out the remaining water. Lance had stopped coming to his dorm about a week ago and according to Hunk, had been spending a lot of time with Lacey. Honestly, Keith didn't mind this much considering it was giving him time to clear his head, and he had been working doubles almost every other day… but he missed having Lance around. It was kind of nice to come home to Lance washing his face, or reading some Manga, or passed out on the other bed, Keith's blankets piled on top of him. I thought we could be friends.
Keith groaned again, pressing the palms of his hands into the sockets of his eyes, hunching over slightly. It wasn't any secret Lance was fucking with his mind, but ever since Lance started hanging out with his girlfriend more and more, Keith couldn't get Lance out of his head… the party… the park… fuck, every detail, every time… Lance's slender fingers ghosting up his neck slowly, and Keith shivered, pulling the other boy closer towards him as the music changed. He felt Lance's lips break apart, the other boy taking a breath, his fingers running through his hair softly as Keith pressed his hand against the back of Lance's neck, his thumb on his cheek, pulling him down slightly…Peppermints. The older boy let out a sigh, grabbing his towel from the floor, glancing towards Lance. He had hoped this weekend would give him a chance to get Lance out of his head completely, but thanks to Shiro's pushy attitude, Keith was stuck with him until Monday… at least Lacey wasn't here. He hadn't met her yet, but he'd heard things from Hunk and Pidge…
The 19-year-old dried his hair again before throwing his towel towards Lance. He laughed softly as it smacked the younger boy in the back of the head, cutting him off mid-sentence. Lance flinched, glaring towards the bunk bed to see Keith standing slowly, "Fuck you, Kogane."
"Gladly," Keith snorted, pulling himself on the top bunk, reaching for a book on the shelf next to him. He flipped through in unconsciously, eyeing Lance out of the corner of his eye, feeling his face heating up slowly. Lance paused, smirking slightly before flipping him off. He cleared his throat, "Sorry, Lace."
Lacey exhaled slowly, "Kogane? So… You're with that Keith guy? How long?"
"Just a few days, babe. I'll be back Monday," Lance said, turning towards the pictures again, looking over the photos once more, his eyes pausing on one in the top right corner. The younger boy pressed his fingers against the photo, tracing over the woman featured in it. Unlike the other pictures glued to the closet doors, this one looked old… older than the others, worn out, fragile. It was bent, white lines gridding across the paper as if it had been folded and crumpled many times, the left corner burned slightly. Lance smoothed it out gently, leaning closer to get a better look.
"Well…" Lacey huffed, "Next time, tell me if you plan on going away for a few days… especially with that Kogane guy. He's bad news, Lance, trust me- Brad was telling me about him and just, he's not right… but his older brother is different, nicer, han- better. And that Allura girl is so lucky. Anyway, like I was saying, Jess and I went to the mall the other day and-"
Lance swallowed, tuning Lacey out as she continued to drone on about something she had seen at the mall or something. He squinted slightly as he continued to stare at the old photograph. The woman was young, maybe late teens or early twenties… and from what Lance could tell, she was talking to someone or something not pictured, which was weird because the woman was clearly facing the direction of the object. She was laying on her stomach, propping her head up on her elbows, her tongue sticking out, her black hair dusting past her shoulders, a bright purple streak standing out against the black…
"Lance?"
The 18-year-old shook his head, stepping back from the photo slowly as he focused once more on Lacey's voice, "Uh, yeah?"
Lacey groaned softly, "You weren't even listening, were you?"
"Sorry, babe," Lance said, picking up the towel at his feet, "Look- Lace. I-I gotta go. Ill talk to you later, okay?"
"Fine. Bye, Lance. Love you."
"You too," Lance whispered.
…..
"Lance?"
The 16-year-old glanced up, his fingers shaking slightly as they grasped at the white cotton hem on the bottom of his shirt. He swallowed slowly, glancing around at the small circle of people sitting near him, all of them staring at him, watching, waiting for him to speak. He didn't want to. He didn't want to be here… anywhere.
"Lance? Do you want to share anything with us today?"
The teenager's eyes connected with a small blonde woman sitting across from him. Her frail fingers clasped a notepad, pen wavering between her index finger and thumb as she tapped it slowly against the clipboard, the sound echoing throughout the tiny cold room. He shook his head, looking back down at his arms.
"You've been here with us for nearly three weeks and you haven't yet talked to us. Talked about what happened… what you tried to do," She said softly. Lance flinched, his fingers tracing over the clean white bandages wrapped tightly around his left wrist, "There's nothing to talk about."
The woman sighed, "I don't believe that, Lance."
"I don't care what you believe," He said quietly. The 16-year-old dug his index finger under the bandage, biting the inside of his cheek as his nail pierced the fresh line hiding beneath the wraps.
"I think you're hiding," She said slowly, her chair screeching loudly as the metal pegs moved across the tiled floor, "I think you hide because you don't want the world to know how hurt you are. I think you have a lot of pain, and group can be a good way for us to help you overcome some of that. Lance, you're here because of the incident, because of the outburst at the hospital- you're here because your parents are worried about you. Your family is worried that something like this will happen again."
Lance snorted, pressing his fingers harder against his flesh as he glanced up. The woman had moved her chair closer… hell, the whole damned group seemed to have moved closer. The teenager swallowed, "That's why you think I'm here? You're wrong."
The woman sighed, pressing her notepad against her legs, "Am I? Lance, you checked yourself in here shortly after you were released from the hospital. You refuse to see anyone from your family but yet, you refuse to open up to us. This is a safe place, Lance. But we can't help you if you don't let us. I think you're here because you blame yourself for what happened to Jamie. But Jamie-"
"Don't say his name," Lance growled, his fingers slipped from his wrist as he made eye contact with the blonde woman. She paused, looking down at Lance's fingers resting against his thigh, the tips of them wet and sticky, dark red running under his nails. Her lips thinned harshly, forming a tight line across her face, "Fine. Lance, I think you resort to pain as an outlet because you think you deserve to be punished in some way for what happened. But what happened to Ja- your brother… it wasn't your fault. The Doctors, your parents, they said he went under, he hit his head-"
Lance shook his head, swallowing harshly as he leaned back in his chair, glancing towards the small window on the opposite side of the room. The glass was foggy, making anything outside, barely visible to the viewer. Bars lined the window, large enough to be able to open the stupid thing for fresh air, but small enough that it would make it impossible for someone to leave, to escape… to jump.
The teenager looked down at his arm briefly, frowning slightly as he noticed the dark red beginning to bleed through the white bandages, staining it, making it harder to hide, making it harder to fix. He sighed, running a shaky hand through his hair as he glanced around the small group. Most of the people here were older than him… by a decade or a few. And many of them had been here a long time- a lot of them more messed up than he was, than he felt. He just couldn't go back. Not right now… not after what happened… not after Alexander. It's all your fault.
"… He died on impact. His body was gone before you found him," The woman said softly, her chair now a few inches from his. Lance grit his teeth, "That's not what happened."
He looked back towards her as confusion crossed her face, "It is, Lance. You told the Doctors, your parents-"
"I lied," The 16-year-old growled, his fists clenching tightly as memories slowly started to crash over him, forcing his thoughts elsewhere as he broke eye contact. He felt anger flowing over him as his mind flashed to Jamie's face, and he bit his bottom lip, pressing his right fist against his thigh, hoping the Psychologist wouldn't noticed.
"What are you talking about, Lance?" She said slowly, writing something on the yellowed paper. She glanced back up, shaking her head carefully towards one of the orderlies who had stepped forward when they had noticed the small blood droplets coating the floor. The orderly leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms as he let the session continue.
Lance cleared his throat, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his shirt as he looked back towards the woman, "What happened. What I told them- it… it didn't happen like that. Not exactly…"
This is all your fault… it will always be your fault, Lance.
Lance jerked awake, air scraping against his throat as it was forced from his lungs in rough sporadic waves. He choked, pushing against something behind him as he struggled to break free, as he struggled to gain his composure, as he struggled to breathe. His arms felt restricted, felt confined, and the 16-year-old let out a strangled noise as he kicked at the blankets covering his legs. It was too warm. No, it was too hot… and it was fucking claustrophobic; air refusing to enter his lungs as memories washed over him and he pressed his hand against his thigh as it started shaking. Fuck. Fuck! He couldn't do this. He couldn't-
The 18-year-old pressed his back harder against something warm and he sucked in a quivering breath, pressing chin against his knees as he drew them closer towards his chest. He was breathing fast, hard, the air not quite making it to his aching lungs, not quite making it through his veins, not quite reminding him that he was alive. He felt something dripping down his cheeks, splattering against his kneecaps, soaking into the plaid sweatpants he had borrowed from Keith… before it hit him. He was crying. He had been for a while, probably in his sleep too.
The teenager let out a choked sob, curling in further on himself as he glanced down at his wrists, his tired eyes peering through the unforgiving darkness, connecting with the even darker scars painting his flesh. He pressed his fingertips against them gently, numbness present under the scarred skin, making it impossible to feel his fingers pressed against the warm lines, making it impossible to feel anything, anything except the pain that surrounded his heart.
Lance cried loudly, pressing his hand against his mouth harshly as he tried to block out the noise, as he tried to concentrate on anything else, as he tried to stop the hurt, the memories coursing through him. He blinked slowly, wiping roughly at his eyes as tears filled his vision again, running down his face in waves, and he let his head fall back. He took a small breath, closing his eyes as he breathed deeply, his nostrils filling with a familiar scent… filling with the scent of grass... fresh-cut grass and sweat…
Lance swallowed, biting the inside of his cheek, stopping himself from whimpering again as a soft voice met his ears and he opened his eyes slowly. His eyes connected with something glowing in the left corner of the bedroom and the 18-year-old squinted, wiping again at the tears still sitting in his eyes. A faint smile toyed with his lips and he let out a half-choked cry as he realized the stupid glowing circle, was the sun… or a cheap replica of one. The small orb was swinging slightly from the fan in the middle of the ceiling, the planets surrounding it, the moon, Earth, Mars, Saturn, others, all glowing brightly in different colors. It was childish… hell, it was dorky… but right now, right now, it was the only thing lighting the darkness that filled the room. It was the only thing Lance had that could keep the demons lurking in the shadows at bay.
He swallowed again, trying to clear his throat as he continued to stare at the cheap replica, his body slowly beginning to relax, his hand slowly staring to still. He coughed loudly, letting out a small whimper as he felt arms that didn't belong to him tighten slightly, pulling his back closer to someone's chest, and the teenager let out a soft sob as he realized someone was holding him. Someone was holding him upright, his back pressed against their chest, their heartbeat pounding against his spine, their arms wrapped around his torso tightly, comfortingly, as he realized someone had been with him this whole time, had probably been even before he had woken up. He stilled slightly, goosebumps pricking his skin as tears filled his eyes again, dripping from his chin as he grasped at the hands wrapped around his middle, as he realized it was Keith.
Lance choked loudly, letting out a loud sob as he sucked in short breaths. He felt Keith's arms around his chest move slightly, flinching slightly as he pulled the younger boy as close as he could, his chin pressed against Lance's shoulder lightly, reminding the 18-year-old that he wasn't alone. That he hadn't been alone.
The younger boy's chest heaved as he continued to cry, his head falling back against Keith's shoulder. He let the tears fall freely, memories cloud his mind, his eyes fixated on the planets. Lance's hand grasped tightly around Keith's warm fingers as the older boy continued to sing to him softly, his voice light- almost in audible; his voice the only anchor Lance had that kept him from drowning, "… I like that you're broken. Broken like me. Maybe that makes me a fool. I like that you're lonely. Lonely like me. I could be lonely with you…"