Hope
Time. He use to loathe the idea of it. To have to take orders from some contraption designed to announce when time changed was infuriating at times. To have to work within the constraints of day and night, or to be forced to become addicted to the devilish idea of having to maintain a certain schedule. During his days in the Garrison, his superiors practically worshipped time and it's way of controlling what they did and how they felt. He use to pity the poor fools who allowed themselves to be held back by the powers of time, usually out of fear of becoming left behind.
Yes, time was no friend of his, but as his body drifted through the endless void with his hopes of rescue waning, time never felt more like a stranger. And like the addict he had become, he began to feel the early signs of withdraw. Despite floating around in space for what felt like eternity, his bones still ached and his eyes felt heavy. When he and his fellow Paladins first found themselves in this situation, he had attempted to keep track of some sense of time that had passed, but the longer they remained floating in the abyss, the harder it became to make sense of it all.
He knew he had to hold on to his sanity for as long as he could, so whenever the opportunity arose, he would offer a comment here and there, trying to contribute to some light-hearted chatter. Pidge would respond every so often, while Keith would add something in when he felt the need. Hunk kept losing himself to his thoughts, which left the princess attached to his arm to entertain him the most.
The conversation took an interesting turn when she started to inquire about Earth. The Red Paladin was more than enthusiastic as he answered each of her questions in great length, sparring no detail. When he approached certain subjects, she'd pull him in closer to her as he tended to get lose in his excitement and forget that he could not use his hands to elaborate at the moment. It almost made him nervous, how happy she had been to put up with his quirks. Whenever he stopped to take a breath, he would steal a glance at her reaction and see an expression he had only seen her wear once before. Though that was directed towards a man whom he detested with great passion, he never felt so happy to see that same look again. But for her to use it on him? He'd just blame the lack of oxygen.
"Alright gang, our oxygen levels are starting to get low. Let's keep the talking to a minimum so we can make our air last."
Keith's instructions were causally spoken, but the meaning of his words cast a gloomy cloud over the group. Lance swallowed back his nervous as he forced himself to take slower breaths. Then he felt something grab his hand, which pulled his attention away from his leader's warning and to the woman at his side. She had intertwined their hands, but had her eyes closed and head down.
Lance had only known Allura for a few years, but it felt like he had known her his whole life. He knew without her speaking, that she trying to hide her own fear, but for some reason (subconsciously, perhaps) she was using him for comfort. The prospect made him more anxious than the thought of death, but he recalled an old saying his mother use to share.
"When the person you love needs you, that will be the only thing that will matter."
Knowing he couldn't comfort her with his words, he did the next best thing he could.
The princess opened her eyes when she felt him squeeze her hand. Her eyes went from their tangled hands to his deep blue gaze filled with concern. Her heart nearly fluttered out of her chest and her throat tensed up, but she still managed to give him a reassuring smile. He returned the gesture and added a nod of his head. In some unspoken language she knew what he meant.
They would be okay. Though neither of them may have believed it, thinking the other one did made the hope in their hearts last just about longer. They would make it through this, because they had each other.
