Hey Guys!
Sorry this is hella long but I really didn't want to cut it into ANOTHER chapter. PLEASE be warned about this one as it has heavy wordplay on dark themes. So please PLEASE read with caution. The next chapter is going to hurt- so, I'm ready for it... because shit is about to go down, and Klance is going to get hurt... (winks/ sobs)
Okay, stay safe! Thanks for reading! And the comments :)
-KB
…...
Breakfast, as it turns out, was a big deal at the Kogane household. According to Shiro on the car ride up, every Saturday before their mother went to work, she forced the boys to wake up early and pick fresh fruit in the garden while she made pancakes. Supposedly, this had started as a form of punishment when Keith had annoyed their mom by refusing to leave the kitchen one morning when she was trying to get some alone time with their father; that and the fact that Keith refused to eat anything but cereal for a whole year. However, over the years, it slowly became a tradition the whole household looked forward to every weekend. This, Lance realized, as he slowly emerged from Keith's bedroom to the smell of bacon wafting through the hallway and the sound of Shiro's voice echoing off the walls.
Despite waking up sometime around 3am, the 18-year-old had slept rather well, the faint smell of Keith still lingering on his Tokyo Ghoul t-shirt. He ran a hand through his messy brown hair as he pulled the old door open slowly, squinting slightly as sunlight pierced his eyes, and the teenager stood there for a while, listening to Shiro's conversation.
Lance smiled as he glanced back towards the room, walking back inside the tiny bedroom, grabbing his green jacket thrown across a desk chair. He paused for a moment, embarrassment washing over him as his eyes connected with the bunk he had been occupying. Keith's stuffed hippo was pressed against the back corner, sitting lopsided like it had been placed there unwillingly, like he was forced to watch over him…
"So, dude, what's with the Hippo? Aren't you a little old for stuffed animals?" Lance asked, pulling an arm behind him as he tried to get comfortable. Keith scoffed loudly, the old mattress shifting slightly, "Don't talk about Henry like that, McClain."
Lance snorted, pressing his feet against the bottom of the top bunk, "The Hippo?"
Keith shifted again before leaning over the bed, his black hair covering his face as he looked down at Lance, "Yeah. My dad got him in at an airport when I was like 4. You got a problem with it?"
Lance turned on his side, smirking, as Keith leaned further over the bed, and the younger boy wondered momentarily if he had ever fallen off. The 18-year-old shook his head, laughing softly, "No, Keefers. I don't have a problem with it. Henry the Hippo… it fits."
Lance smirked before glancing towards the top bunk, a small frown forming on his lips when he found it empty. He pressed his hand against the pillow only to be met with cold soft material. Keith had been up for a while… or maybe, he hadn't slept on the top bunk at all…
…Keith tightened his grip around Lance's chest, and the younger boy could feel Keith's heartbeat quicken as he took a shallow breath. His head pressed against Lance's neck, his hair tickling the 18-year-old's skin as he let out another choked sob, grasping at Keith's warm fingers, memories from his nightmare running through his mind. Lance let his tired legs fall against Keith's as the older boy continued to sing softly. It was comforting…
Lance stilled, swallowing repetitively, his pulse racing as red flushed across his cheeks, forming sweat against the back of his neck, last night's memories rushing back to him. He'd thought it was a dream… hell, he was sure it was a dream. But if it wasn't, then… Shit!
A bang sounded from the kitchen as something metal crashed to the ground, followed by Allura laughing loudly. Lance jerked his head towards the door roughly, rushing into the hallway, his breath quickening as he came into the bright yellow kitchen. He stopped in the doorway, gasping slightly as bright vibrant sunflowers greeted him. Yellow wallpaper covered most of the tiny kitchen, popping against the dark oak cabinets, clashing with a stocky older woman standing in flowery orange scrubs at the stove. He blinked slowly; he'd never seen so many fucking flowers. At least, not in the same room.
The 18-year-old directed his attention towards Shiro kneeling on the ground, cleaning up what looked like a failed attempt to flip a pancake in the air, only to throw both the pancake and pan on the floor. Allura was sitting at the counter, wiping at tears flowing down her face as she laughed again, her pink phone shaking in her fingers, "That was by far the worst attempt I have ever seen."
Shiro snorted, "Shut up. It wasn't that bad."
"No, no, honey," Allura continued, wheezing slightly, "It really was. You were all, 'watch what I can do, babe,' and then you basically threw the whole thing on the floor. Oh my God, I can't believe I got that all on camera…"
She continued to laugh, doubling over slightly as she glanced towards her phone. Lance chuckled softly as Shiro groaned, looking up towards the teenager, "Oh, hey Lance. How'd you sleep?"
The woman standing at the stove turned at the mention of Lance's name, a huge smile covering her face as she threw her spatula down, rushing towards the younger boy, "Oh, honey, I'm so glad you made it this weekend! Shiro has told me so much about you!"
Lance flinched slightly as she pulled him into a warm hug before a smile broke out on his face. He stumbled, his legs almost weak from the gesture and he locked his knees to keep from falling on the shorter woman. He relaxed as she pulled away, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, "Lance, honey. I'm sorry, where are my manners? I'm Himari, or Mari, or Mrs. Kogane, whichever you like. I'm just so excited, I've never met one of Keith's college friends."
Lance laughed awkwardly, running a hand through his hair as he took a seat next to Allura, placing his jacket on the empty chair next to him. He pressed his elbows against the white countertop as she turned back towards the stove, moving some bacon around, steam rising slightly from the hot griddle, oil popping against the yellow backsplash. I thought we could be friends…
"You'll have to forgive her, Lance. She had five cups of coffee this morning, so she's a bit over-excited," Shiro whispered, leaning in, before placing the broken pan in the sink next to him. Mrs. Kogane turned around, smacking his arm with the plastic spatula, "Stop it."
Shiro grinned slightly before turning back towards Lance, "Also, beware of the sugar cubes at the back of the silverware drawer. That's basically her crack, so, touch it and she'll kill you."
Mrs. Kogane smacked her son's arm again, "Takashi! What did I say?"
Shiro laughed loudly as he turned back towards his mother, giving her an innocent look, "I'm just helping him out, Mom. If he's going to be part of the family for a while, I might as well give him a few warnings."
"Yeah, you're a real saint, honey," She said, shaking her head. She rolled her eyes before leaning against the counter behind her, folding her arms as she turned the griddle off. Shiro chuckled again, walking over to the coffee pot, changing the filter before pouring coffee grinds into the top, pushing brew. He turned back towards the counter as Allura cleared her throat, "Oh believe me, Mari, Shiro is quite the character. After all, I think I have most of his 'sainthood' videoed on my phone. I'd love show you sometime."
Shiro let out an exaggerated groan as he ran a slow hand through his hair, "For the last time, princess, I was trying to flip the pancake in the air. I've done it before, you know."
Allura laughed softly, pushing herself away from the counter before standing slowly. She stretched, pulling her white hair back into a bun before walking past Shiro, brushing her hand against his shoulder playfully, "I'm sure you have, darling. I'm going to go take a shower."
Shiro sighed loudly, dropping his head, shaking it gradually as she walked out of the room, still laughing. Mrs. Kogane stepped forward, placing her elbows on the counter in front of Lance, turning towards Shiro, "I like her, Takashi. So, you better not mess it up."
Lance exhaled softly as Shiro glanced up, pushing away from the counter, coming closer until his hip was pressed against the hard edge. He wiped some crumbs off the granite surface slowly, a smirk breaking out on his face bashfully, "You really like her, Mom?"
His mother nodded, a playful smile shifting over her wrinkled face again, "I would trade both you and Keith in for her."
Shiro snorted, looking up slowly, his gray eyes meeting his mother's brown ones, "Well… that's good, because… because, I'm going to ask her to marry me. Over Spring Break- when we're in New York."
Lance watched as Mrs. Kogane's expression changed drastically, her eyes shining brightly as excitement filled her features. She squealed loudly, pulling her son down into a hug, her hands grasped around his shoulders tightly as the older boy faltered, nearly toppling over. She let out a small laugh as she hugged him tighter, "I'm so happy for you! I'm so excited!"
Shiro grasped the corner of the counter tightly to keep from falling forward, to keep from falling on top of her as she pulled away, her hand caressing his cheek lovingly. She wiped at the tears forming in her eyes as she cleared her throat, "Do you have a ring? Do you want mine? Your father will be so excited! Did you ask Coran for her hand? Oh, I'm so proud-"
The older boy straightened, running a hand over the back of his neck as red momentarily crept across his face, "I don't have a ring yet. And yes, I was kind of hoping you might have the one from my dad. And yes, mother, I did ask Coran. He, honestly, had the same reaction… which is funny."
His mother squealed again, "Of course you can have it, honey. Ah! Go tell your father! He's in the garden with Keith. We'll talk later, Takashi. I'm just so happy!"
Shiro laughed softly, running a hand through his hair as he nodded towards Lance awkwardly, before opening the screen door and stepping outside. The older woman turned back towards Lance, shaking her head slowly, a huge smile still painted on her face, "That boy has come a long way from where he used to be. This is just perfect! They've been dating for almost three years now…"
Lance nodded, shifting slightly in his seat as she continued to ramble about her oldest son. He felt awkward, out of place, like he had just witnessed something he shouldn't have- like he had invaded somehow on a private matter. He felt wrong… but, the unfamiliar emotion plastered around him kept him grounded, kept him glued to the chair he wished he could leave. It was weird… but, it was also nice. It was nice to see how much she cared about him. Hell, it was nice to see how happy she was. His family wasn't like this… they might have been, once. But now… now…
… He coughed loudly, feeling the rough air scrap past his lips as he pried his eyes open to a hellish world. Light blinded him, foreign sounds overpowering his senses for a moment, and Lance wondered slightly if he was going to be sick. He blinked a few times, slowing his breathing as questions raced through his mind. Where was he? What happened?
He peered to his left, seeing monitors and posters of things he didn't recognize. He was in the hospital. Why? He stared at the white ceiling for a minute, trying to remember what happened. Trying to remember how he'd gotten here. He didn't remember much, just Alexander… just pain… and yelling…
He sat up slowly, running a hand through his hair, sucking in a sharp breath as pain shot through his right arm. He looked down at the white bandages that were wrapped around his wrist tightly. He flexed his muscles, curling his fist, watching small red droplets seep through the white innocent dressing. Lance's hand hovered shakily over the gauze and he took a few shallow breaths before he slowly started unwrapping the ugly bandage.
Tears welled in his eyes as he stared down at the jagged horizontal lines etched across his tanned skin, questions reeling through his mind. He felt his breathing hitch, finding it hard to breathe, listening to the heart monitor beeping sporadically, matching the harsh breath that barely made it past his dried lips. He pressed shaking fingers against the stitches, ghosting over the heated swollen flesh. And suddenly, like a wave of water crashing over him… he remembered. He remembered everything. He remembered Jamie.
The 16-year-old slammed his head back against the pillow behind him as memories flooded back to him, tears streaming down his face. He looked down at his other arm, seeing it too was covered in the ugly white. He reached down, ripping the IV out of his hand, swinging his legs over the bed, standing on shaky legs. He needed to leave. He needed to get out of here. He wasn't supposed to be here! He didn't want to be here! He sucked in a harsh breath, wiping roughly at the tears that spilled down his face. He couldn't breathe. The heart monitor was screaming loudly in rapid, uneven beeps, red flashing across the screen and Lance peeled the small sticky disks from his chest roughly, forcing the machine to flatline… wishing it was him, wishing it was silent, wishing everything was silent. He coughed loudly, taking a small step as his legs betrayed him and he smacked harshly against the unforgiving ground.
"Lance?"
Lance looked up, blinking through hazy tears, seeing a blurry image of his mother standing in the doorway, a bewildered expression plastered across her face. He sucked in another harsh breath, fighting against the sick feeling that rose in his stomach, swallowing the acidic taste in his throat. He heard her close the door gently, stepping closer, and he put a hand up to stop her from coming any further into the room. Pain shot through his left wrist as he pushed himself from the ground until he was resting on his knees, "Please… don't…"
He felt his body shaking as he tried sucking in another breath. Tears still dripping down his chin, landing on the speckled floor below him. He needed to leave. He needed to calm down. He needed to get away. He curled in on himself, shutting his eyes, pressing his forehead against the tiled floor, breathing what little air had managed to make it to his aching lungs. Just breathe. Just breathe. It's okay... No, no, it's really not…
"Lance?"
"Huh?" The teenager asked dazedly, directing his attention back towards Mrs. Kogane. He blinked several times, sniffing slightly as the bright yellow kitchen gradually came back into view. He had zoned out… He swallowed against the lump forming in his throat, feeling something cold clasped against his hand and the 18-year-old glanced down. Confusion etched across his face as he studied older pale fingers touching his hand, almost covering it as they gently squeezed his fingers. It took him several minutes to realize he had pressed his hand harshly against the counter… that it had been shaking, that it was still shaking. Fuck. It's showing again… it's only a matter of time before you break, McClain.
He swallowed again, pulling his hand gently from under Mrs. Kogane's warm grasp, pulling it under the counter, resting it against his thigh, his hand balled into a fist. He pressed his other fingers against his wrist, messing with the rubber bands sitting against the flesh, yanking one back before letting it smack against his skin. He looked up slowly, a forced smile plastered to his face as he tried to look okay, as he tried to feel okay.
Mrs. Kogane swallowed gently, pulling her hand back towards her, giving the teenager a sad smile, "Our whole family has scars, Lance. Please, honey, don't feel the need to hide yours, especially here. You shouldn't feel ashamed of your scars- they tell a story. They show what you've been through… what you've survived."
Lance sucked in a quick breath, swallowing hard; he was hoping she hadn't noticed, he was hoping she wouldn't. He needed one person, just one person on this planet that didn't know about them, about his family, about the scars, about everything. He wanted one person to not treat him like he was fragile, like he was glass, to think he was normal. He yearned for one person to look past everything, for one person to see him- truly see him- and still want to be around him. To still love him. Just one fucking person on this fucking planet. Anyone. The teenager shook his head, "I haven't survived anything. Not like Keith. Not like Shiro."
The older woman nodded slowly, reaching forward, her thumb stroking across Lance's warm cheek. Lance closed his eyes, letting out a shaky breath. He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve someone like her. You honestly think someone on this planet would love you after what you did? After what you're doing now? You fucked this family up. They might be able to forgive you one day, but I never will…
"Lance, honey, you survived the hardest thing in the world. You survived yourself."
…
Lance ran a hand through his hair as he made his way to the small garden at the back of the house. He stopped momentarily, taking in the backyard, smiling at the crooked, half-broken fence barely standing in the far-right corner of the lot. Most of the fence was leaning towards the ground, no longer needed for its original purpose, desperate to mesh with the tall grass, a few posts refusing to join in. A tiny shack was sitting beside it, its roof caving in slightly, the brown wooden door hanging unevenly off its corroded hinges, banging against the outside wall as the wind around it blew past.
The 18-year-old peered to his left, looking past an abandoned bicycle rusting next to what Lance assumed was a gravestone, and towards the cluster of trees that surrounded the back area. He pulled at his jacket loosely as his eyes connected with a treehouse resting peacefully in one of the trees, its wooden planks falling slightly to the branch below as it threatened to fall. It looked shabby and abandoned, and Lance wondered momentarily if it had been Keith's a long time ago.
Lance glanced back towards the house, and for the first time, noticed a ramp leading into the house next to the front porch. His eyes sat there for a moment, focused on the wooden boards, questions racing through his mind before his vision swept over the small one-story house. The siding, which was probably once red, had faded, coloring the paneled side in uneven pinkish hues. The roof of the house looked as though it had been replaced many times, small pieces of shingles hanging from the gutters, swinging slightly. Many parts of the house seemed old, or at least, on the brink of falling apart as it struggled to stay together. It didn't look bad or dirty or necessarily unkept… just old.
Lance cleared his throat, running a hand over the back of his neck as he stopped in front of the small garden, smirking slightly as he noticed Keith bending down, pulling something from the ground, dirt smeared across his face, his shirt disregarded on one of the handles of a muddy wheelbarrow. The 18-year-old swallowed, pushing his sleeves up slowly as the sun that hung overhead beat against his skin, forming sweat across his chest, neck and palms… He wasn't used to this heat…
…Lance's fingers hesitated before trailing through Keith's hair slowly, and the younger boy let out a soft moan as Keith pressed his body closer to him. His chest pressed against Lance's, and Keith exhaled lightly, his lips parting briefly as the 18-year-old's fingers slowly slid down the older boy's arm….
Sweat was covering Keith's shoulders, dripping between his shoulder blades from his black hair and he ran a naked hand across his neck absentmindedly. Dirt was caked randomly across his chest, his arms, mixing with sweat that ran down his torso, trailing in muddy lines down his stomach, soaking into the waist of his jeans. Lance swallowed. Every time Keith bent down to retrieve something, the muscles in his arms and shoulders would flex, making the 18-year-old realize that the shorter guy was probably stronger than he looked. I thought we could be friends… what the fuck is your problem, McClain! Lance let out a small breath, running a hand through his hair slowly, glancing briefly towards the trees again as his face grew hotter. He looked back shyly, a small grin masking his face as he watched Keith squat in front of a tiny plant, pressing fresh dirt around the stem, thumbing a leaf sprouting from the ground gently.
The 18-year-old couldn't help but smile. It was nice to watch Keith work. It was nice to see how comfortable and at-ease he was… unafraid to be himself, to show the world a different side of him. The real side of him. Here, Keith wasn't afraid to be outside in the hellish heat without a shirt. Here, Keith didn't have to hide his hands or act all tough and mighty. Here, Keith didn't have to hide who he was. Lance wanted that… He wanted an environment like that. He wanted a place he didn't have to hide, where he didn't have to lock himself away, where he didn't have to constantly please the people around him. He wanted a place he could be himself. He wanted someone he could be himself with.
Lance bit his bottom lip, shoving his hands in his pockets as he continued to watch the older boy work, stepping closer towards the garden. In the sunlight, the red burns that painted across Keith's back and trailed down both arms looked almost purple, standing out even more against his pale flesh, twisting, warping rudely over his shoulders in knotted unison. Lance shuttered, his eyes tracing over the angry burns distorted against the 19-year-old's skin, his eyes tracing over scars and burns he hadn't noticed in the dim light of Keith's dorm, over a round dent on his left shoulder blade where it look as though something had pierced crudely through the flesh. What the hell happened to you? The teenager stepped forward unconsciously, wincing slightly as his foot connected with a small plant, the dry crunch forcing the older boy to look up.
Keith stood slowly, turning even more so before freezing as he noticed Lance standing at the edge of the garden. Lance swallowed again, his eyes connecting with the same round wound on the front of Keith's shoulder. Something had pierced through… had it been during the wreck?
Lance ran a hand through his hair, offering a small wave as he glanced briefly at the tattoo on Keith's side, noticing the black ink stood out even more against the bright light, the purple line tracking the bottom of the blade and purple symbol blending against the small violet scars littering his flesh. Lance bit his bottom lip harshly as he looked up towards Keith, his blue eyes connecting with Keith's blue-gray ones, dancing to the small faint scar on the bottom of the older boy's right cheek. He'd known the wreck had been bad, but he hadn't- he hadn't known it had been this bad. He just, he could see so much more in the sunlight… more than he wanted to… it hurt Lance's heart.
Keith ran a hand over his face awkwardly, trying to wipe away any dirt he had covering it as he glanced to his left, saying something to the man behind him as Lance stepped closer. The 18-year-old carefully stepped over the juvenile plants sprouting from the ground as Keith bent down to pick up a small basket of apples. The older boy stood again, holding the basket close to his chest as his breathing caught softly, his face reddening as Lance made his way towards him.
The younger boy smiled towards Keith before stopping in his tracks as an older man came closer towards him. Lance paused, biting his lip again as he forced himself from staring, as he forced his jaw shut, as he watched the older man stop at the edge of the garden. Lance swallowed, glancing towards Keith momentarily before looking back towards the man a few feet in front of him. Lance closed his eyes briefly as he finally understood why the house had a ramp next to the porch. Keith's dad was in a wheelchair… that made sense. Ever since the accident, mom has this thing where she makes a big deal out of every holiday and birthday… Lance had assumed Shiro had meant the car accident. Keith had never mentioned it before- hell, he hadn't mentioned anything.
"You must be Lance! I'm Chris, but everyone calls me Tex, or Mr. Kogane. I would stand to hug you but…" The older man trailed off, a grin masking his lips as he gestured to his chair. He smiled broadly, extending his hand towards Lance. Lance jumped, grabbing it quickly, nodding even more so as he glanced towards Keith once more standing a few feet beside him, biting into one of the apples he was holding. The 19-year-old looked down, kicking at some of the dirt covering his toes as he chewed slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He glanced at the soil caked under his nails as he took another bite, realizing suddenly that he was probably covered in dirt… and he probably smelled like sweat too. Great.
"I-I am," Lance added, putting his hands back in his pockets, straightening his posture as his glanced back towards Mr. Kogane. The older man laughed, wiping his palms against his legs, "Well, I'm glad to hear that. From the way Keith talks about you, he seems very fond."
Behind them, Keith choked, coughing loudly as juice flowed down his throat and he glanced up shyly, red creeping across his overheated face as his eyes connected with Lance's, "Dad."
"Oh, come on now, son, don't tell me I've embarrassed you. I'm sure Lance here has already met your mother and I'm sure your brother has filled her in, so I just wanted this young man to know we've been talking about him," The man said, turning to look at Keith before glancing back towards Lance, winking at him.
The younger boy felt his face heat up as he heard Keith groan, feeling suddenly exposed, feeling suddenly awkward. He laughed nervously as he took his jacket off slowly, throwing it on top of Keith's shirt hastily. It was really freaking hot outside. Too freaking hot.
Lance gulped, twisting the blue band on his wrist between his fingers as he glanced between Keith and his dad. It took him a few minutes to realize that Shiro looked more like Keith's dad than Keith did. In fact, they looked so similar that Lance would have never guessed the two families weren't related by blood. Shiro had Mr. Kogane's bone structure, the same chin, the same forehead, the same nose, hell, even the same build… but Keith? Well, Keith had his eyes… but honestly, that was it. The 18-year-old's mind flashed to the damaged photo of the young woman he had seen taped to the closet door last night. Was she Keith's mom? His real mom? Come to think of it, Keith did look like her…
"Well, Lance, you can help out in the garden, if you'd like," The man said, pulling Lance from his thoughts, "Keith can show you the ropes; he's been doing this since he was 13. Unfortunately, I can't help him out like I used to, but he almost has the hang of it… that is, if he'd stop killing his mother's tomato plants."
Lance smirked, glancing back towards Keith as the older boy groaned, nearly dropping the apple he was holding, "For the last time, Dad, I told you, that isn't me. They're planted in the wrong spot and can't get any water."
"Uh huh, sure. Excuses, excuses. Lance, I hope you don't have to deal with him much at school," The older man joked. The younger boy laughed softly, "No. Usually, he has his nose buried in a book."
"Ah, those damned books. With as much as he reads, you'd think he'd have read something about tomatoes," The man said, turning his chair slightly, his fingers gripped around the wheels as he glanced towards a small patch of dirt near the porch, a few sad-looking stalks growing from the dirt. Lance followed his gaze, laughing slightly.
"Dad," Keith cleared his throat, throwing his apple core in the wheelbarrow, "I'm sure Lance doesn't want to spend his time gardening. Maybe I can take him to-"
"I don't mind," The 18-year-old interjected. He ran his hand through his sweat soaked hair as he carefully made his way towards the spot where Keith was standing. The older boy froze slightly as Lance pulled his shirt from his torso slowly, sweat beginning to soak the black material. He watched as Lance struggled momentarily, the younger boy's biceps flexing slightly as he pulled harder against the old material, and Keith swallowed, dropping the basket of apples he was holding as he jerked his head away, looking towards the trees, his face bright red. Shit.
Lance pulled the shirt from his head, rubbing it over his hair briefly, trying to dry it the best he could before throwing it next to Keith's gloves on the ground. He glanced down at Keith's feet, taking his own shoes and socks off before bending down to pick up some of the apples lying on the ground next to him. Mr. Kogane smacked his hands together loudly, "You see, Keith, he doesn't mind."
….
"Is this your mom?"
Keith glanced up from the book he'd been pretending to read, placing it on his chest as he looked over towards the closet. He swallowed softly before nodding, watching Lance's fingers ghosting over the old photograph, his index gently tracing the young woman in the picture.
The younger boy turned back towards the closet, stepping closer to the door, rubbing his green towel over his wet hair as he continued to soak up the remaining water. He put a finger under the backside of the photo, feeling a rough thick edge and pulled it gently from the painted wood, wincing slightly as the old tape stuck against the door, refusing to come with the glossy paper. Lance peered towards the bunk beds, Keith's eyes on him as the younger boy unfolded rough edge slowly. It was the other half of the photo. He waited for Keith to say something, for Keith to stop him… but he didn't.
Instead, the 19-year-old laid there, motionless, his disregarded book abandoned against his chest, his eyes fixated on Lance. Keith closed his eyes slowly, letting his head rest against the plastered wall behind him as his fingernails dug into the soft skin on his forearm. Normally, he would have stopped anyone from seeing the rest of the picture… hell, he hadn't let anyone ever see the rest of the picture, but for some reason, he felt like he could trust Lance. He felt safe around him. It felt okay. I have a girlfriend…
Lance bit his bottom lip as a smile formed on his face, his eyes taking in the rest of the photo. The other half was that of a baby… well, a toddler, facing the young woman, his back leaning against a man Lance recognized as Mr. Kogane… except, he wasn't in a wheelchair in here. The toddler was smiling widely, holding out a red popsicle towards his mother, the sticky liquid coating his hand, dripping from his small wrist onto the floor below. Even though he couldn't have been more than 3 or 4, Lance recognized the beginning of a small messy mullet- he recognized Keith.
Lance let out a slow breath, his mind trying to replay a memory that wasn't his. They all looked so happy, so peaceful. What happened? The 18-year-old wiped the bottom of his nose with his towel before letting it drop to the ground, falling against his toes softly. Did she die? Was that when Keith's dad had his accident?
"Turn it over," Keith whispered, his voice wavering slightly. He pressed his fingers harder against his skin before letting go, his hand smacking against the wooden rail on the side of the top bunk. He knew what was on the back- he'd spent many nights reading it, analyzing it… crying over it. He'd spent many nights trying to figure out why she left… how she could leave… leave him. He didn't get his answer until his birthday last year, but it didn't make things any better. Keith pressed his lips together tightly, his chest hitching slightly, his eyebrows scrunching together as his mind read the words from memory.
The 18-year-old's fingers shook gently as he slowly turned the photo over, gripping the edges of the damaged picture in his hands. There was a message written on the back in messy cursive and Lance brought it closer, trying to make out the smeared words:
Keith,
As I watch you grow, as I watch you learn, as I watch you become the great man I know you are destined to be, I realize just how precious you are to me… and that I cannot be there as much as I wish. My sweet boy, no matter what happens in this life or the next, I want you to know, you are loved. Forever and always, loved.
Love eternally,
Mom
Lance choked softly, clearing his throat as he folded the photo back slowly, pressing it gently against the closet, making sure the tape stuck to it before stepping back. He ran a hand through his hair as he glanced towards the glowing planets, trying his best to focus on the spinning Styrofoam versus the lump forming in his throat. Keith had let him read something personal… something for his eyes only. That was his way of opening up… That was his way of letting Lance in. I thought we could be friends…
Keith shifted, the mattress groaning softly as the older boy turned to his side, pulling the thin sheet over his tired body. They had spent most of the day in the garden, and despite taking a shower just half an hour ago, Keith could still smell sweat and dirt clinging to his skin. His shoulders ached from exertion, his back feeling hot and itchy from the sunburn he had received due to lack of sunscreen. The 19-year-old sighed, rubbing the back of his neck slowly, opening his eyes, noticing Lance standing a few feet from the closet, his head turned towards Keith's stupid 10th grade Astrology project hanging in the corner.
"Lance? You okay?"
The younger boy flinched slightly, before clearing his throat, "Yeah, I, uh- yeah, Keith, I'm fine. Don't worry about it."
Keith shifted again, sitting up slightly, glancing under his bed at the bottom bunk, glancing at the stuffed Hippo he had placed there this morning when he left. He had hoped it would keep Lance from having that nightmare again… and even though it was childish as hell, Keith had hoped it would watch over Lance in his place. Last night had scared the hell out of him. Waking up to Lance crying in his sleep, freaking out, calling for Jamie- and after several failed attempts to wake the younger boy, Keith did the only other thing Shiro and his mom used to do to him when he had nightmares. He'd spent the rest of the night there too, letting Lance stop on his own, letting Lance lean against him, letting him fall asleep- too afraid to move, too afraid that if he did, if he went back to his bed, then the younger boy would have another nightmare… or memory. Keith wasn't really sure which was worse, but he was familiar with both.
Lance cleared his throat again and the 19-year-old looked up slowly, drinking in Lance's stiff stature. The younger boy still hadn't moved. He just stood there, messing with the bands on his wrist, his eyes fixated on that stupid assignment. Keith shivered. It was wrong- it felt wrong, off. Something was wrong- Keith had made something wrong somehow and if he didn't fix it- if he couldn't fix it, then Lance was in for another rough night. And the thought of that… hurt.
"Hey, McClain," Keith said softly, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed before jumping down, stumbling slightly as he tried to keep his balance, "You wanna go somewhere?"
….
Lance pulled his green jacket closer as the night air swept over his skin, sending chills through his lanky form. Despite it being hot as hell earlier, it was rather cold now… which was surprising. Keith and Shiro had grown up only a few hours from Voltron University, but despite being in the same state, the weather was drastically different. There, it was still cold, snow still struggling to melt as the sun barely showed it's face on most days, but here… here, it was a dying heat during the day, freezing cold at night. Where Lance grew up, it was almost always sunny and hot, but not an uncomfortable hot. It was nice there, but here… and at Voltron… well, Lance still wasn't used to the weather change.
Lance stumbled slightly, grasping at the half-fallen fence as his foot collided with some rocks he hadn't known were there. He winced slightly, looking down, trying to peer through the darkness to see where else he shouldn't step, but his eyes were having a hard time readjusting. Lance wasn't really sure where they were going, Keith hadn't said… and he wasn't really sure why he agreed to come on what seemed like a 10-mile hike at 2 in the morning, but Lance needed to get out. He had to get out of there, out of that house, out of that room. The whole atmosphere was too different, too unfamiliar and it was stirring up things Lance was trying to keep buried beneath the surface, emotions he had tried to medicate, people he had tried to forget… he wanted to forget.
…Lance grit his teeth as anger flowed through him, "I-I can't do this! And you, you and Dad! You don't see it! No one does! I'm drowning! I'm drowning, and you- you don't care. You put so much pressure on me to be the perfect son. Especially since Jamie, and yet, you can't even see what's happening! You can't see what's happening to me, and I can't do it anymore. I can't live with this anymore- I can't be your disappointment any longer. It's not my fault the wrong son died…
He heard Keith make a small noise and looked back up, squinting slightly, straightening his posture. He stood there, forcing his hands against the edge of the fence as he realized Keith's eyes were on him, as he realized he had probably been zoning out again… zoning out for a while. Good going, McClain. You're just in the way…
Keith cleared his throat, "Sorry, Lance. I forgot to mention to watch your step out here. There are rocks everywhere. Are you hurt?"
Lance swallowed, trying to figure out if he trusted his voice right now. He shivered again as wind blew past him, his hood smacking against the back of his neck softly as he gripped the splintered fence in his hands, pressing against the wooden fragments that were beginning to fray from the stupid posts. He felt the small splinters pierce his skin and he swallowed again, shoving his hands in his pockets, pulling his jacket closer as he stepped back, "No… But I have a question."
The older boy hesitated, stepping forward a little as he tried to remember where the rocks were, so he could tell Lance, "Okay."
The 18-year-old followed, stepping around the fence cautiously, smirking, "Are you planning on killing me, Mullet? Because you're leading me into some Slenderman-looking woods."
Keith snorted softly as he pushed his hood down, running a hand through his messy black hair. He let the cool breeze smack against his face, listening to the wildlife around them, grinning as he noticed some fireflies still looming above the grass ahead of them. It wasn't like them to be out this late… then again, maybe they were about to call it a night. Keith paused briefly, closing his eyes as owls hooted in the distance, animals chattering a few feet behind them; people sleeping in their beds, ending their day as the animals that surround his house began theirs… God, he had missed this. There wasn't much wildlife at Voltron… not that he would have time for a midnight stroll anyway, with his two jobs and six classes.
Lance stumbled again, his foot catching against something sticking out of the ground and he fell against Keith's back, grasping at the older boy's sweatshirt as the 19-year-old turned slightly. Keith grasped at his shoulders, pulling him up, letting the younger boy straighten himself on his own. Lance mumbled something under his breath as he reached down, brushing dirt from his pants. He didn't mind nature, hell, he actually enjoyed it… and he didn't mind the dirt or getting dirty, but he was wearing the same sweatpants from yesterday and he didn't really want to get dirt on them because they weren't his. You're a burden to the rest of us…
He straightened his posture, running a dirty hand through his hair, his teeth chattering slightly as he looked around. He had no idea where they were… which, if he had, would have been surprising. He was walking in unfamiliar territory… he'd been doing that a lot lately.
He glanced towards Keith before looking past him, smiling slightly as his eyes met a small group of fireflies. He watched them for a few minutes; they looked so peaceful, so carefree, so pretty. Where Lance grew up, they didn't really have them. Sometimes they would get lucky if his family ventured a little further South… but next to his house? They didn't have fireflies at the beach. The 18-year-old sighed loudly, "Sorry I fell against you. It's just so damn hard to see out here."
"Here," Keith whispered, turning slightly, extending his left hand towards Lance. The younger boy felt himself blush and glanced down before looking back up slowly, "I'm not taking your hand, man."
Keith groaned, "Look, I know my way around here but it's a little hard to see in the dark. I'll give it back, I promise."
Lance paused, crossing his arms, wiping his sweaty palms against his jacket as the trees rustled around them. He peered around, trying to find something familiar, something he had seen earlier… but Keith was right. It was hard to see in the dark…
"Do you trust me, McClain?"
Lance sucked in a shallow breath as he glanced back towards Keith, meeting his eyes. His chest tightened slightly, and a sick feeling swept through Lance's stomach as he let his arms fall at his sides. Cold air swept over them, and Lance stopped himself from shivering, clenching his teeth together tightly as Keith's question raced through his tired mind. Do you trust me? Do I trust you? Yeah… yeah, probably more than you'll ever know, Mullet… That's what scares me…
The 18-year-old nodded slowly before realizing the older boy probably couldn't see him through the dark, and he extended his hand carefully, his fingers shaking as he found Keith's sweaty ones. He heard the other boy exhale slowly, strong fingers clasped around his, squeezing them slightly, and Lance swallowed, trying to swallow down the feeling washing over him, trying to push itself to the surface. It was a feeling, an emotion he couldn't place… the same one he'd felt earlier in the kitchen with Mrs. Kogane. But he wasn't sure what it was, and that scared him.
Keith pressed forward, gripping Lance's warm hand in his as he made his way around some more rocks, abandoned branches, past a few maple trees that were scattered in the back of the field. He felt his breathing hitch slightly as Lance's fingers tightened gradually, the younger boy stumbling again, and Keith turned to make sure he didn't fall. He really should have brought a flashlight with them, but he hadn't planned on taking Lance here… Originally, he was going to take him to the gas station down the road that had been abandoned a few years ago, making it easy to climb on the roof without getting yelled at or caught, but something… something, anything, hell maybe everything, told Keith that Lance would like this better.
The wind picked up around them, and Keith could feel Lance shiver. He bit his lip as they continued to walk, hoping the stupid walls were still holding up enough to keep the wind from seeping past the cracks. They walked in silence for a while and part of Keith wanted to continue, to keep walking, to circle back around a little later, to keep his fingers enclosed around Lance's just a little bit longer. I have a girlfriend…
The 19-year-old stopped, looking up at the tree in front of him, feeling around the old bark as he tried his best to find the switch that his dad had somehow nailed to the giant tree a long time ago. He let go of Lance's hand slowly, ghosting his fingers over the tree's trunk, grimacing as his fingers collided with wet sticky sap. He wiped his hand over his sweatshirt before blindly feeling for the stupid switch once more. He bit his lip as he realized he hadn't been out here for a while… that the lights might not work anymore, which would make this a whole hell of a lot more difficult.
"What are you looking for, Mullet?"
Keith cleared his throat, moving a little closer to the tree, letting his eyes adjust to the dark, "Hold on a second."
His fingers fell against something sharp and he winced slightly as metal cut into the skin. There it was. He pressed his other hand against the switch, wiping his fingers against his hoodie as they started to throb, something wet running lazily down his hand. He really should have worn his gloves.
Every fiber in Keith's body prayed to God that as his fingers flipped that stupid old switch that the lights would still work… that, even after all these years, they would somehow still come on. He turned to face Lance, momentarily letting his vision clear, "Welcome to the Castle, Lance McClain."
There was a loud pop as some of the lights flickered, wavering slightly as they forced themselves on. Half the tree lit up as the other side sputtered, flicking on then off, struggling to stay on, and Lance sucked in a shallow breath as he glanced around them. White lights hung from the branches around them, hiding loosely between dark green leaves, hovering over them almost dangerously, woven in a random pattern that lit up the whole tree as colored lights circled up the tree's trunk, twisting, turning up the full length. Every branch, hell every twig seemed to have a light attached to it, outlining the tree's width; some branches almost brushing against the ground from previous damage, but despite this, they still clung to the lights, willing to stay together. It was… beautiful…
He leaned against the bark as he looked up, his breathing catching in his throat as his mind tried to find words his mouth wouldn't have been able to form; and it took Lance a few seconds to realize this was the same tree he had seen earlier, the one with the treehouse that looked to be on its last legs. He pushed away from the tree gently, stepping back as his eyes connected with the old treehouse, its wooden floorboard leaning dangerously downward, some of the planks on its sides were missing. He ran a hand through his hair slowly. There wasn't a roof… but with the lights that were wrapped around the branches, Lance couldn't understand why you'd want one in the first place. Painted boards were nailed to the side of the tree, each one in a different color, forming a makeshift ladder.
The 18-year-old felt his knees shake slightly, but whether it was from the cold, exhaustion, or the fact that Lance was possibly looking at the most amazing thing he'd ever seen, he didn't know. He swallowed, glancing around him again, noticing some of the branches were intertwined with other trees, and he followed the lighted path. He smiled, noticing the trees around them although lacking the bright colorful decorations, harbored apples that looked almost ripe. This was where Keith had gotten them earlier, then. He stumbled slightly and glanced down, looking at the rocks they had been avoiding, noticing some of them almost shined, painted with different colored paints, creating a path through the small clump of trees… leading back towards the giant tree with the crumpled old box.
Lance's eyes followed the path slowly, looking at each rock, looking at the lights hanging above them, looking at the treehouse sitting dangerously in the middle of the tree. He laughed softly before looking back towards Keith, noticing the older boy was watching him intently, his fingers still pressed against the metal switch. Lance wondered just how long he had been standing here… just how long Keith had been watching him, and he ran a hand over his face, trying to mask the red creeping up his neck. You don't have to be an asshole all the time, Keith… it's okay to open up and let people in sometimes- is this what you're doing then, Kogane? You're letting me in? Why? Why now? I thought we could be friends, but…
Keith pushed away from the trunk, "Come on."
Lance watched as the older boy reached for one of the painted boards nailed against the tree, watching him climb it before disappearing inside the old house. Lance stood there for a few minutes, waiting for Keith to come crashing through the floorboards as the wooden box creaked loudly, groaning as the wind swept over it. The 18-year-old took a tentative step closer, pausing briefly as the older boy poked his head over the top part of the wall, "Are you coming, Sharpshooter?"
Lance swallowed, nodding quickly, "Y-yeah. Just this- this is pretty amazing, dude."
Keith disappeared behind the wooden walls again as Lance reached for the ladder, pulling himself up on the old wood. He went slowly. The treehouse wasn't too high up, but if one of the boards snapped, it would still be a nasty fall and probably result in a broken bone.
Lance pulled himself through the hole, sitting on the lopsided ground, letting his legs dangle out of the small entrance as he glanced around. The inside wasn't as extravagant as he expected… each wall was painted a different color with paint that was, at one point probably bright and vibrant, but now sat dull and washed-out. If it hadn't been for the lights hanging above them, Lance would have never noticed the colors. Some lights from the branches dipped down, hanging above the open roof, banging against the posts as the wind brushed past.
He shivered slightly as his eyes met Keith, sitting on the other side of the treehouse, leaning against a plank that protested his every movement, his eyes still watching him. Lance looked behind him, smirking at the faded, rain-washed single Star Wars poster nailed to the wall, torn in so many places that if a strong wind blew through, it probably wouldn't survive. He noticed a few ancient-looking blankets and pillows littering the floor, dipping towards the slanted side, a few sticks and leaves laying on top… but other than that, the inside was a lot barer than he had expected… not like the outside.
Lance glanced back towards Keith, smirking, "So… the Castle?"
Keith laughed softly, breaking eye contact as he glanced up, "Yeah… we actually didn't name it that- Allura did a few years ago, but the name kind of stuck."
Lance ran a hand through his hair slowly, pulling his legs the rest of the way through the hole, "What was it called before?"
"Promise not to laugh?" Keith asked, pushing away from the wall. He laid against one of the pillows, pressing his back to the floor, pausing briefly as it groaned before looking back towards Lance. The 18-year-old nodded slightly, leaning his back against the post, pushing his hands in his pockets, pulling the old material closer.
The older boy snorted, a bemused expression painted across his face, "Treehouse."
Lance laughed loudly, "Yeah, that's creative, Mullethead. I can see why Allura would change it."
Keith shrugged before laying down on the floor, placing his hands behind his head, staring up at the night sky above him, "Shut up. I was 12. Ironically, the only reason this place was built was because I was messing around with Shiro. Our mom told us not to climb any of the trees because she was worried we'd get hurt, but I was a stubborn kid who had a problem with rules. So, I started climbing this one," Keith pounded his fist against the floor gently, "and I ended up falling. Broke my left arm. A few days later, Dad and Shiro built this monstrosity. The damn thing's been here ever since."
Lance chuckled softly, pulling his legs closer to his chest. Him and Jamie never had a treehouse, but they had a secret spot… well, maybe not that secret. There used to be this old lifeguard station from the early 50's that was somehow still standing, and they used to go there as kids, camp there for the night after surfing, pretend they were lost on a deserted island and that stupid wooden hut was their base. It had been a good way to spend an afternoon, or a summer. Lance had gone back there… about a year ago, but their hideout was gone… he was gone.
"Lance?"
The 18-year-old looked up slowly, noticing Keith was propped up slightly, watching him again. Lance bit his bottom lip, his fingers ghosting over his wrist absentmindedly. He needed to stop zoning out, he needed to stop thinking about everything… otherwise. Keith glanced back up at the sky quickly before meeting Lance's eyes again. He smiled softly, "Come here. I wanna show you something."
Lance hesitated. The same feeling from earlier returned as he watched Keith's eyes light up as he slowly made his way towards the older boy. He swallowed thickly, noticing the older boy's eyes were bigger, darker than he thought, more vibrant- standing out against his pale face, making it the first thing you noticed about him. Making it the first thing Lance noticed about him…
Keith was different here, in his element. Softer. Gentler… more open. It was strange and confusing and… and? And what? Nice, maybe? Yeah… Lance thought it was nice. Keith was a different person almost, sweet. He wasn't as closed-off here, or maybe he was just more comfortable around Lance… or, maybe Lance was the one that was different. Maybe Lance was the problem here…
…Lance pressed his mouth against Keith's as the older boy struggled to breathe. Rain washed around them, dripping down Lance's face, soaking into his pants as he pressed his knees harder against the muddy ground, pulling the older boy closer towards him as he sucked in a ragged breath. Keith shivered, his hand pressing against Lance's wet shirt, clenching the material tightly between his fingers and Lance stopped himself from flinching. He ran a hand up Keith's arm, pressing against his neck, pulling his down slightly as he pressed his mouth against the 19-year-old's again.
He sighed softly, feeling Keith's fingers loosen against his shirt, his body beginning to relax as the panic attack that had consumed him moments ago slowly began to dissipate. Lance smiled, running his thumb across Keith's tense jaw, making his way towards the older boy's soaking hair as shaking fingers slid down his shirt…
Lance stilled slightly as he laid down next to Keith, awkwardly. This was awkward, weird, confusing… but somehow, it felt nice. Right. Safe. Lance pushed this thought aside, his mind still trying to place the sick feeling in his stomach, trying to find the right words to describe it, to describe the emotion. Keith cleared his throat, "Close your eyes, Lance."
The 18-year-old glanced over at Keith before closing them slowly. There was a soft groan from the wood under them and Lance bit his lip, wondering for the millionth time tonight, if the old treehouse could support their weight. He shivered slightly, pulling his jacket closer towards his chest as the wind howled past the wooden box, squeezing through the holes and missing planks. He felt Keith move next to him, cursing softly as something smacked against the ground followed by a click. Lance kept his eyes closed, waiting for Keith to tell him he could open them as the older boy shifted beside him again. Do you trust me, McClain? Do you trust me, Keith? After everything I've put you through… After everything I'm doing to you… After-
"Okay, you can open them."
Lance opened his eyes slowly, his lips parting slightly as he stared up at the night sky around them. He blinked a few times, his mind trying to figure out how he had missed the lights hanging above him… how big this tree was to have such bright lights that seemed further away… Wait. Lance exhaled as it suddenly hit him. Keith had turned the lights off, so what Lance was seeing, what Lance had mistake for smaller lights… were actually stars.
The younger boy's body stopped; thinking, moving, breathing all stopped as he continued to stare up at the sky hanging above them. It looked so big, so vast… so scary and dark, but yet... He'd never seen so many stars in one place, so many shining in one spot- this wasn't like the playhouse from a few weeks ago, this was different, somehow. From where they were laying, the sky looked like black velvet littered with hundreds, thousands, millions of sequins, or jewels, or maybe… just lights. Millions and millions of lights, strewn up in the night sky, vibrant and bright, refusing to drown in the black abyss, shining against the darkness surrounding them... no matter what. Lance felt tears prick his eyes.
Keith glanced towards the younger boy, watching his expression shift as he continued to stare above them. He placed a hand behind his head as he scooted closer towards Lance, feeling the younger boy shivering, hoping his body heat would be enough to keep him from getting cold. Keith swallowed, glancing back up towards the sky, "I used to come here a lot as a kid, especially when things got bad. When it was all too much. When we first moved here. Best view in town…"
Keith trailed off, feeling Lance flinch slightly. He paused for a while, letting silence hang above them in a heavy fashion, broken only by the wind threatening to tear the stupid shack apart. He listened to Lance choke before taking a deep breath, and Keith inhaled softly, shifting again, letting his hand fall gently between them, trying to stretch his cramping fingers. He peered to his right, swallowing against the worry in his chest as he noticed the silent tears glistening against the younger boy's cheeks. Keith bit his bottom lip, turning back towards the sky, freezing slightly as he felt warm shaky fingers snake their way down his arm and, he shivered. He smiled softly as Lance's fingers grasped his before clearing his throat, "Shiro used to get sick all the time. Well, me and him both. After the accident. My body would hurt, randomly… for days. The slightest touch felt like sandpaper against every burn, every cut, every bruise, and water flowing over my back, down my arms was excruciating. Sometimes it was so bad- I remember my mom would sit with me every time, running water, pressing against each burn, each cut, trying to be as gentle as she could while I sat there, crying like an idiot. I remember thinking at the time that it was stupid that she even cared enough to sit there, giving her adopted son a bath when the pain got too bad… when the meds wore off. But she's always been that way. It didn't matter if I was 11 or 16- she still did it."
Keith paused for a moment, stretching one of his legs before continuing, "And Shiro… he was really weak most days. His body had a hard time with all the medications and it kept rejecting his prosthetic. He used to get these headaches too- sometimes he still does, and it would put him out for a few days. His body wasn't healing like it was supposed to… or maybe he was just taking a long time to heal. But he would get really high fevers, randomly- and he'd be stuck in bed for days, but my mom- she would stay with him. Every time… Then my dad had his accident. He used to be a photo journalist but after, he couldn't travel everywhere like he used to… but, no matter what, no matter how hard it got for him, no matter how bad his mood was, she was always there. Someone always needed her. I kept to myself a lot, trying to stay out of the way in case someone needed her more than me."
Lance swallowed, the tight feeling in his chest returning and he sucked in a sharp breath, closing his eyes against the stars hanging above him. Keith shifted slightly as Lance's fingers tightened around his, "So, when things got bad. When Shiro was down, or my dad was having an episode, or I was trying to deal with the pain. When I felt like I had no one, or when things became too much to handle, I would come here… and stare up at the stars. It didn't matter how bad the weather got, or how dark it got because I knew they were always up there. Burning bright against all of the blackness surrounding it. Every time," Keith sighed softly, "I always found it funny that all those stars were just stupid balls of glowing plasma, of gas and matter, but despite that, most people find them amazing, memorizing… beautiful- I think they're beautiful, because even in the darkest night, even in the shittiest weather, they still shine for the whole world to see. No matter what."
Lance sucked in another breath through his nose, letting his chest heave against the delayed response, and opened his eyes slowly. He cleared his throat softly as his eyes met the same stupid stars, burning just as bright as they had been earlier, and he glanced to the left to see Keith's eyes on him. Lance swallowed, rubbing harshly at the tears still dripping down his face as he peered back at the sky. The closest star to Earth is the Sun, Mullet… and it has enough power to scorch the whole damn planet.
Keith turned back towards the stars, coughing slightly, covering his mouth with his other hand as memories hit him, and he felt saddened anger wash over him as he took a deep breath. He let silence weigh on them a little longer, listening to Lance's breathing as the younger boy wiped at the tears forming in his eyes, smacking his hand back against the wooded floor several times, trying to calm down.
Keith wanted this to be okay… he needed it to be okay. He needed Lance to be okay, he wanted Lance to be okay. Keith knew what it was like, what it was like to swim in stupid dark water with tired arms and a messed-up mind until you found yourself unable to make it any further, until you found yourself drowning from pain. Keith knew what it felt like to drown. He had been there many times; the only difference was he could normally pull himself out… normally. But if he couldn't save Lance from drowning, couldn't save him from his own pain, then Keith was at least going to make sure the younger boy wouldn't have to swim alone.
"The last time I came here," Keith whispered, "Was the night my mom came to visit… on my 18th…"
…
"I'm just trying to be normal again!" Lance yelled as his brother pushed against his shoulders, keeping him grounded, shoving him against the wall behind him harshly. Alexander snorted, peering down as Lance pushed him away, "You think this is normal? You think our family is normal? You think kissing boys is normal? Seriously, Lance. Take a fucking look around, we haven't been a normal family in a long time, and honestly little brother, you're to blame."
The 16-year-old stilled, his arms falling at his sides as he looked up, his eyes meeting his brother's green ones, his breathing hitching slightly as memories washed back to him, as the numbness returned. He tried. He really tried to hide it, to bury it, to burn it… but that feeling, that stupid feeling, the hurt- it fucking returned. Every time.
"It's not my fault…" he whispered, folding his arms across his chest as a sick feeling bubbled in his stomach and Lance stopped himself from doubling over. Alex laughed harshly, stepping closer, and Lance swallowed, the smell of alcohol flowing off his older brother in sickening waves. The older boy placed his hand on the wall behind Lance, closing the distance between them causing the teenager to flinch slightly.
"But it is. You've fucked up this family so much, and now, now this! You're pathetic… 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 honestly think someone on this planet would love you after what you did? After what you're doing now? Honestly Lance, the wrong brother died," Alex said, swaying slightly as he pushed away from the wall, and Lance felt his knees buckle as he forced his back against the white wall, hoping, praying that the old plaster would keep him upright for at least a little bit longer.
Tears filled his eyes, threatening to spill as he watched his brother yank the bedroom door open, letting it bang against the wall with a loud thawk. Lance tightened his grip around his chest, his heart pounding against his ribs as he tried to keep the panic attack at bay, as he tried to swallow down the bile rising in his throat. He coughed softly, "Alexander?"
His brother paused, flinching slightly, the muscles in his back tensing as he turned halfway, and for a moment, just a moment, Lance got a glimpse of him- of the older brother he used to be. Of the man he used to be… of the family he used to have. The younger boy tried pushing away, tried to look stronger than he felt, but his body betrayed him, and his knees gave out. He slid against the wall roughly, his back scrapping against the stupid white plaster and he winced as he smacked against the ground. He couldn't do this. Not today. Not anymore. It wasn't his fault he looked like Jamie. It wasn't his fault that his family was falling apart… at least that's what he tried telling himself. But he knew. He knew the truth. And the truth was, it was all his fault.
"Alexander," Lance whispered, swallowing softly as tears left his eyes, looking towards his older brother once more, "I'm drowning… and I don't think I can swim anymore… I don't think I know how to anymore."
"Then maybe you should stop trying to. Just like the rest of us…"
Lance jerked, opening his eyes slowly, blinking against the bright sunlight that stung his face. He took a deep breath as the memory faded slowly, melting into the back of his mind, hidden behind things he had locked away a long time ago, and the younger boy shifted, pulling the cheap, stiff yellow blanket draped around his shoulders, closer to his chest. He swallowed as he glanced towards the sky, noticing for the first time today that leaves hung above him, swaying slightly in a greenish blur, bright blue filling the background as bright yellow light filtered past branches, gleaming off the decorations hanging over the open treehouse.
Lance groaned, shifting slowly as he pressed his aching hand against the old floorboards, pushing himself up slightly until his eyes met a small dark wet spot from where his head had been laying, on gray material that wasn't his, and the teenager's face flushed red. Sweat began to dot his hairline as his eyes slowly trailed upward, following the material, his breathing hitching as his eyes landed on messy black hair and Keith's closed eyes. Shit. I thought we could be friends, but…
The 18-year-old let out a steady breath, running a hand through his hair as the events from last night replayed in his head. He had fallen asleep… he had fallen asleep on top of Keith. Shit! Lance sat up quickly, pressing a hand against his stomach as the sick feeling from last night hit him full force and he glanced down to see he was wearing Keith's red hoodie…
"The last time I came here," Keith whispered, "Was the night my mom came to visit… on my 18th…"
Keith's hand tightened around Lance's, his fingers digging into the younger boy's hand and Lance bit his bottom lip before turning back towards the sky, trying to keep his hand still. Wind swept of the treehouse and the floorboards shifted loudly, groaning against the straining weight, the branches smacking against the wooden planks. Lance shivered harshly as the older boy let go of his hand before sitting up slightly. Lance turned, watching as pale moonlight danced off the 19-year-old's features as the older boy struggled to pull his sweatshirt from his body.
"Here," Keith said gently, pulling his red hoodie past his hair, shaking it out slightly before handing it towards Lance as the younger boy shook his head, "No. I can't take your jacket, dude. It's cold out here."
Keith laughed softly, "Lance, take it. I get hot easily and besides, I'm used to the weather here. Take it. Please."
Shaky fingers ghosting over the worn fabric, a soft smile plastered against Lance's face as he pulled his legs to his chest, his breathing still coming out in uneven waves, his heart still racing. He closed his eyes briefly, burying his face against his arms, letting the warm scent of grass and dirt fill his nostrils as he pressed his chin harder against his knees. The scent, Keith's scent, was warm… familiar, nice… it was nice.
Something moved above him, and Lance glanced up, smirking as a bird flew past, diving between the branches and lights as it landed on the wall, chirping loudly. It was nice here… peaceful. The younger boy sighed, his nose twitching slightly as something ran across his face, and the 18-year-old ran a hand across his temple lazily, a tiny black spider running along his fingertips. He watched it momentarily before letting it crawl across the blanket, looking back towards Keith's unconscious form.
The older boy was laying on his back, his black hair covering most of his face, small twigs and leaves littering his shirt, sticking in his hair randomly. Lance snorted, looking back down at the dark spot on Keith's chest, hoping it would dry quickly before the older boy realized the 18-year-old had been drooling. He ran a hand across the spot gently, letting his hand hover as Keith's strong heartbeat pounded against his palm, his chest rising and falling gracefully, his body unaware of the morning heat burning against him.
Lance leaned back against the wall behind him, looking up momentarily, noticing the dull purple planks were slightly wet from morning dew. Keith coughed softly, shifting to his side, pulling his body closer to him, his right pant leg riding up past his ankle, and Lance smiled widely, raising his eyebrows slowly as he pushed forward.
There, on Keith's ankle, standing out against pale flesh in black ink, was the outline of a lion… but it wasn't a real lion. No, this one was all lines and sharp angles, making it look more robotic than real. Red coated its head, chest, back, covering part of its feet, while blue lines filled its cheeks, forehead and end of its tail. Black lines traced its body, covering a huge spot on its neck and shoulders. It looked like something from some cartoon. It looked nerdy as hell… but kind of cool. I have four tattoos, Lance… So, Mullet, that's two. Where are the others?
"Stop staring…"
Lance flinched slightly, jerking his attention from Keith's ankle to the older boy's face to see his eyes fixed on him. Lance smirked, running a hand through his hair nervously as he pressed his back against the old wall once more, "I was just trying to figure out what kind of idiot gets a lion and sword tattooed on their body. Were you part of a gang that I should know about?"
Keith snorted before groaning loudly as he scrapped his hand against the floor, pushing himself up on tired limbs and sunlight pierced his eyes. He sat up slowly, blinking several times as he stared down at the leaves and twigs falling from his shirt, before leaning against the Star Wars poster behind him. He closed his eyes briefly, running a hand through his long hair, pulling a few more twigs from the strands, and he swallowed, opening his eyes. He looked over, smiling slightly as Lance's eyes met his and he let out a soft cough before clearing his throat, "I was eighteen, Lance. It seemed cool at the time…"
Lance nodded, messing with a loose thread on the bottom of Keith's red sweatshirt, "And the sword?"
The 19-year-old was quiet for a while, and Lance bit his bottom lip, wondering if the older boy would answer. Keith leaned his head back again, closing his eyes slowly as exhaustion washed over him. Last night had been… well, long… and Keith had barely slept. He swallowed, running a hand over his left arm as something crawled up it, "Sixteen."
He heard Lance exhale loudly, and he coughed again, opening his eyes slightly to find the younger boy had scooted closer, his eyes looking towards Keith's chest, towards the area where the tattoo was. Keith rolled his eyes, running a hand over his face before stretching loudly, touching the top edge on the wall behind him. Sweat was beginning to form across his shoulders, down his back and the 19-year-old grimaced as the smell of stale body odor filled his nostrils. Fuck, he really needed a shower… and a haircut.
Keith glanced back towards the younger boy and groaned softly, "Go ahead, Lance. Just ask."
Lance's face lit up slightly as he came closer, peering back up at Keith, "What does it mean? Did your parents know?"
The older boy sighed, pushing his legs out in front of him, his feet dangling from the hole, and he briefly wondered if that's how he'd lost his shoes. He looked around slowly, scanning the old musty blankets and tattered pillows, searching for his stupid black converse.
"My parents didn't know, only Shiro because he got one too. My dad found out a few days later, my mom a few weeks after that… both were mad at first, but they got over it pretty quickly. And for its meaning, it's the Blade of Mamora. Basically, it symbolizes knowledge or death," Keith said, moving the yellow blanket, throwing it across the tiny box before giving up on his shoes. He turned back towards Lance, swallowing thickly, noticing the soft smile painted across his tan face, a green leaf sticking out of his brown hair, and those stupid stupid freckles. I thought we could be friends…
Lance nodded, moving closer, and the older boy blushed slightly as Lance's knees brushed against his thigh. Keith pressed his head harder against the wall behind him, coughing softly as his eyes darted to Lance's lips briefly. Peppermints… You're in too deep, Kogane. He's going to hurt you and you're going to let him… I have a girlfriend…
"Lance," Keith whispered, moving closer, his left hand pressed against his thigh as his right reached up slowly, trembling fingers reaching for the leaf hanging in the younger boy's hair, "I don't think I…"
Lance met his eyes, holding his breath as Keith's fingers pulled at something in his hair, his fingers trailing down slowly, ghosting past his ear, tracing his jaw line, and Lance tensed slightly. He swallowed quickly, biting back the feeling from earlier as it threatened to overwhelm him, his stomach knotting, twisting, turning, as his heart froze in his chest. I thought we could be friends, but maybe…
Keith's fingers stopped at the bottom of Lance's neck, his thumb pressed against the younger boy's collar bone, his index finger pressed against his pulse, feeling his heart racing, and Keith inhaled slowly. He bit his bottom lip, leaning forward slightly as the younger boy's hand grasped lightly at the bottom of Keith's shirt, pulling the old fabric down gently. The floorboards groaned loudly, protesting the action as Keith pushed himself forward, his hand grasping the back of Lance's neck as the 18-year-old inched closer, the scent of dirt and saltwater filling the gaps between them and Keith shivered.
"Paladins! Time to go!"
Keith flinched, wincing slightly as Shiro's voice met his ears and Lance glanced down, pulling away, his hands finding their way back his pockets. Keith dropped his hand, swallowing loudly as he leaned against the boards, looking towards the yellow blanket again, his mind reeling. Silence hung over them in heavy awkward waves as Keith slammed is head against the wood behind him, cursing Shiro as his brother yelled again.
"Hey, Keith," Lance cleared his throat, "I-I have a girlfriend anyway, man."
Keith swallowed thickly, closing his eyes as he heard Lance shift, the rotting wood moving under him as the younger boy made his way towards the ladder. He pressed his head harder against the wall, digging his nails into his palm again. His chest hurt, his stomach felt sick, and Keith swallowed again, trying his best to focus on the sound of birds chirping, or the trees rustling, or Shiro's yelling- to focus on anything, anything besides the angered frustration threatening to swallow him. I have a girlfriend… you always have a girlfriend, Lance. And yet, it still doesn't change my feelings for you… it doesn't change how I feel. I don't know how to change it… to stop it… I don't think I can be friends.
Lance sighed as Keith opened his eyes slowly. The younger boy pushed his legs through the small hole, pausing momentarily as the whole treehouse shifted before continuing down the makeshift ladder. He looked back towards Keith, frowning slightly as he noticed the stupid drool spot still hadn't dried all the way and instead pooled in a small off-gray circle on Keith's chest. He followed the gray material again, his eyes connecting with Keith's dull ones, before swallowing as Shiro called again, "Hey, Mullet. Which would you choose?"
Keith flinched, looking up slightly, running a hand through his hair, "What?"
"Which would you choose? Knowledge… or death?" Lance asked softly. Keith sat there, leaning against the wall, watching as the younger boy climbed through the rest of the hole, and the 19-year-old swallowed, pulling his knees to his chest as tears threatened to fill his eyes. His face felt hot, and he coughed softly, wiping his nose on knees as he continued to stare at that stupid hole, hoping, wishing, that Lance would come back… that he would stay… just once. But he had a girlfriend… and Keith? Keith just had stupid feelings that he couldn't control.
Keith pressed his forehead against his arms as sweat continued to trickle down the back of his neck, and tears filled his eyes, clouding his vision. He took a shallow breath as he heard Shiro call his name, and the teenager looked up, wiping roughly at his eyes as he forced his body to move, Lance's question echoing in his head. So, which would you choose? Knowledge… or death?