Lance has a needle in his hand. The instrument wasn't really a needle. It was an obsidian gem, smoothed out and made to wrap around his wrist. The tip of it looked like an inking pen. Lance dips it into a jar, gathering into the small space of the needle what looked like black olive oil with the consistency of gel and feels the same as liquid eyeliner when Lance lines it around his eyes.

Lance is focused, trying not to mess up and Keith is making an honest attempt at not moving, flinching, or blinking. Lance is eternally patient whenever he squirms.

The ceremonial robes around them rest comfortably on the plush pillows beneath them. It takes a while until Lance is satisfied with the markings he's made on his face, some following the lines of his neck. Another curling in the short fur of his left ear where his ear was threaded with rose quartz.

Lance smiles, looking at his masterpiece. Honestly, it makes Keith feel shy to be looked at like that. It always has.

Next, Lance grabs another device. It was similar, that it wrapped around his wrist. But the needle was different; it was the same one the high priest used to infuse the gems into his skin.

A jar of thin cuts of sodalite sits by the side. Lance takes his left hand and starts his plan. He had asked Keith if he would allow him to do it, shy smiles and cheeks blushing. Lance was not as experienced as the high priest in this, the melding device zapped at his hand. It made his fingers twitch and tingle.

Lance goes to make a triangle, the top corner touching the knuckle of his middle finger, the two bottom corners stretch to his wrists. Inside he made a kaleidoscope of lines, adding a few rubies. He makes patterns of rings on his fingers, different symbols and patterns. On his ring finger, the patterns extended to the tip, licking at his nails.

Keith smiles, watching Lance's face scrunch up with concentration, tongue peeking out from his lips.

"Done!" He announces with excitement and sets down the device. Keith's eyes go over the lines, getting lost in the pattern while Lance watches him, waiting.

"It's gorgeous.." Keith murmurs, bringing his hand to kiss the pattern Lance worked so hard to make without imperfections. There were some, of course, but that was alright.

Lance's smile grows and he takes the hand gently, kissing the top of his hand, and then trailing those kisses down to his ring finger, all the way to the tip. Keith smiles, feeling the softness of his lips press against the pads of his finger.

"So, you'll definitely keep your promise, right?" Lance asks and Keith blinks, tilting his head. Lance grins more, like he knew Keith didn't pay attention to the meanings of the gems and how it was different from the priest marking him to Lance marking him. Lance took advantage of that fact, so sure of Keith's answer.

"You'll marry me when we get back, right?" Lance's grin is infuriating with the knowledge that yes, Keith will definitely marry him.

Keith's own smile is growing on his lips, surprise evident until it grows into amusement.

Damn. Lance got him. Again. Laughter is bubbling in his chest, carefree and giddy. Lance doesn't take the laughter badly, grin growing into an honest to god smile blessed by angels themselves.

Keith knows this is a dream. Because the ceremony was months ago and because Lance's heat is subdued.

Keith knows he'll wake up any second and he tries to hold onto the dream with desperate attempts to keep unconscious.

His grip was slipping.

Keith sucks in a breath, slow and deliberate, as his eyes open. He stares forward, blinking his eyes. His heart was beating against his ribcage. Pushing himself up on his arms, he sits up slowly, letting his eyes come to focus and look around.

The stupid little bobble head is back on his desk. Light filters through the half closed blinds, birds are singing.

He was back.

Keith is numbly surprised that anxiety is not festering and bubbling up in his body at waking up at the Garrison again. He has a feeling the others don't remember... Again. His mind felt exhausted and he lies back down, pulling the blankets over his head to hide from the light.

Keith can't stop thinking about connections and why they seem so important. He also can't remember his childhood... He can, kind of. He doesn't remember it in the conventional sense. He knows he had a childhood. He remembers his first grade teacher putting him in a time out bucket practically every day.

He remembers nearly getting a hold of an annoying grade schooler two years younger and bashing their head into the short aesthetic wall that had shrubs in the dirt who couldn't take a fucking hint to leave him alone. He was stopped. By friends?

Keith purses his lips, pressing the heels of his human palms into his eyes until he sees colors. There has to be something else. Something he's missing... He lets his mind wander, thinking back further and further.

Keith remembers... Snow. Thick duvets of it blanketing the ground, the tops of buildings. He remembers it was cold, but it felt nice when he lies on the mounds of snow and looks up at the sky, twinkling with bright stars on a moonless night. He remembers Cyrillic letters on buildings and paper, the Slavic language made sense to his brain.

He was young, very young... Smaller than the children of 'his age'. A little munchkin and a practical ball of heat.

Keith remembers being taken from the house of different aged children by a short, tiny woman with pale skin and dark brown hair pulled into a tight, flat bun. He remembers sitting in a studio, a large place to his small body, two walls made entirely of glass. He watches her- Ileana... As she ties up pink shoes with thick, flat toes with pink ribbons. Tchaikovsky was played from a nearby piano. Keith remembers watching her dance to many music, peeking from curtains of the backstage as she captures the audience.

Keith doesn't remember what happened to her, though. Tiny Ileana that treated him to creamy ice creams in the dead of winter. He may have seen her once young face with wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and thin mouth.

Keith was back with a house full of children of all ages. Different children, different caretakers, different house. But the snow remained the same.

The next time, he remembers being taken in by a couple of mixed ethnicities. They took him to a warm place. It was always green there, even during the winter. The summers were hot and wet, humidity clinging to his skin.

Keith especially remembers the colorful wraps of robes he was put into. Reds and yellows, blues and greens. They took him on trails to see statues and temples, taught him to bow and clap his hands and talk to Buddha to wish for serenity and a calm life.

Keith doesn't remember their names like he does Ileana's. But he thinks he saw wrinkles form on their skin, too, after many years. The language was different, lots of gliding tones and ups and downs.

He doesn't remember what happened to them either.

He doesn't remember dates, or years, how old he was. Some time has passed before someone else took him in. He thinks he spent years at the house of children of different ages.

Keith thinks he remembers a group of traveling companions taking him next. Putting on shows with fire and tight rope lines, trampolines and trapeze.

Keith takes a breath and opens his eyes again, finally taking the blanket off as he sits up, back pressed against the wall of his dorm. The anxiety is festering again. He wants to freak out like he did last time. Instead, he leans his head forward to rest on his knees, and jerks his head back.

Whaack!

The pain at the back of his head is minor; he wants to stop thinking about it.

Whack!

It was louder, it throbbed now.

WHACK!

Keith whines at the last one, letting his knees burrow into his eyes as he clutched at his head. He focuses on the pain, not the many people he lived with when he was small.

Keith thinks he remembers a lot of wars.

Don't think about it.

Breathe in. Hold. Exhale.

It feels weird, feeling his right arm again. Feeling the ring of S-0, on his right hand while feeling the zap of the melding device on his left but there was nothing on either hand.

Everything was weird. Every. Single. Little. Thing.

His cadet uniform was loose on his shoulders, the hallways were big, his body felt heavy and oddly naked without the use of his druid robes. His ears did not twitch with the sounds of laughing schoolmates, being small motionless flesh pieces at either side of his head.

Just walking around, he felt like he was lying.

Because he should gather up the team, get blue, and then go defend the universe.

But he's not. He's sauntering down the hallway of his old school like nothing was the matter. Like this wasn't the second time being sent back as some sort of punishment. Maybe not punishment. Maybe it was just a coincidence?

When he gets to the mess hall all eyes turn to him, quieting down.

Keith pays them no mind as he turns to the TV, playing the news about the crew who had a successful take off, already two months into their voyage to Kerberos.

Lance bumps into him on his way to first class. His eyes are red, his hair is a mess, and he glares when he sets eyes on Keith who blinks back owlishly.

"What do you want, mullet?" He scowls, twisting his features into something that doesn't look like he just got dumped. "Are you gonna keep staring or get out of people's way?"

Keith furrows his brows, pursing his lips. He argues with himself about whether or not he should say anything, not wanting to get off to a bad start... Again.

"No, sorry." Keith says as gently as he could, making his way around Lance, eyes forward as he continues down the hall.

Lance and he always had a rocky relationship. Well, when they met, they did. Keith doesn't remember his days at the Garrison with Lance at his neck, so maybe the first time he never really interacted with him. Just got used as a role model and put on a pedestal for teachers to compare other students to.

Even if that was how S-0 and S-1 were, he won't let S-2 be the same way. When confronted with Lance, he'll be kind.

Keith purses his lips as he pauses. His thinking was getting him nowhere... He needed something specific. He doubts human libraries will have any books that will allow him to figure out what the hell was going on, but it was worth a shot.

Keith is not paying attention in most of his classes, fidgeting in the awkward school chairs and scribbling down books of what he would need to find.

Books on magic, of any kind, of fiction, rumors, cryptids. Anything that could potentially help him find an inkling of a reason.

"Kogane," The teacher calls him with a glare. Keith looks up, raising a brow. "If you're so good at this that you don't even need to pay attention, please tell the class the answer." Keith looks behind the teacher to the board, an equation is written out. Something about take-off velocity and needed power to throw a spacecraft from earth's orbit if it weighed x amount of kilograms.

Keith wasn't the best at math. In fact, the numbers hurt his head anytime he tries to look at them. But the teacher wrote out a series of answers to choose from, and he was good at rounding. The teacher looks unimpressed as he says the right answer, "explain," they tell him. Keith does. Lance is glaring holes into the back of his head, too. He could feel the heat seep into him. The teacher goes back to instructing and Keith goes back to his list.

Keith manages to slip by Lance's radar after classes they shared, making a bee-line through barely-adult late teens to the research facility on the other side of campus he knows is open late. It was busy, most students being senior or juniors preparing for tests and labs.

Keith pays them no mind and takes the stairs to the second floor, where they had a section specifically for fiction and leisure reading that barely had a few students about. He grabs books and flips through them, skimming summaries and tables of content of books he found reference numbers for. It was late before he knew it, the other students all filed and left for their dorms. Keith sighs, slamming closed a thick book and listens to the silence. He still had three shelves to look through...it couldn't hurt, right?

Keith breathes in, feeling the tingle on his fingertips and he waves his hand, books floating to him. After another glance around, he sighs and continues what he was doing. Placing possibly good books on a growing mountain stack while the others were left to free-float.

He'd been so lost in thought he didn't notice another being until he heard a gasp and a "holy crow!" Instantly, all the books fell with a thumb on the floor and he turned in the direction of the intruder.

Sometimes, he really hated his luck.

"How did you do that?" Lance is dumbstruck. Keith decides to play dumb as he sits down with his legs tucked underneath him, taking a fallen book and starting to shove them back into their proper spots.

"Do what?" Keith asks, looking to him before going back to the books. He doesn't bother to look through new material, already having dozen books he thinks might help.

"Don't lie! That thing!" Lance waves his arms, Keith can see from his periphery. Keith shrugs. "Books! Floating!"

"Books don't float, Lance." He hums. Mentioned boy pauses.

"I know what I saw!" He says with a huff and stalked over to his stack. "What are you even..?" He asks, picking up the book at the top about magic and witches. Keith hears him snort a breath of air in amusement. "Seriously?"

Keith makes a noise like a hum and scoots to the next pile of books and quickly finds their homes on the shelf.

"If the books weren't floating, how come they're all over the floor?" Lance's voice is accusing and he won't let Keith rest on this situation.

"I dropped them when they weren't what I was looking for." He says matter-of-factly, even though that wasn't true. He hated mishandling books and scrolls. He was a stickler for keeping all his books and notebooks dog-ear free. Keith idly wonders why Lance decided to engage him in conversation, but pushes that away. It was kind of fun messing with younger Lance.

"What are you looking for, exactly?" Keith raises a brow and looks to him, sliding the last book back into place.

"Why do you need to know? And why are you here so late? Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

"I'm the library assistant; I could have helped you find what you were looking for... Never thought you'd be the type for conspiracy theories, Mr. Perfectionist." Keith thinks his tone was trying to goad him into bickering. The name was supposed to make him mad. He thinks, once upon a time, it might have.

"Oh yes." He says as he scoops down to grab the stack, it coming up to his chin, minus the two books Lance held. "I'm all about the conspiracies. Because ninety five percent of them are true." He says with a final nod of his head, trying to grab at the books Lance flipped through with feigned disinterest. Lance kept it from arms reach. Keith huffs before starting to walk to circulation to check out. If Lance wanted those books he would read them at a different time. No rush, anyway. He did that in S-1 and it didn't give him any time to think things through about an appropriate strategy.

Lance is trailing after him.

"Awful lot of books, though." He comments and sets the two on top of the others at the checkout line. Keith sees his little "I can help" badge pinned to the left corner of his apron.

"I like reading." He waits patiently as the librarian scans barcodes and stamps the inside card with the due date.

"Heavy, too." He comments and Keith raises a brow after telling the student ID to the lady behind the counter, wondering what Lance was implying.

"Are you.. Are you offering to help carry my books?" Lance's face colors just a tad before he scoffs.

"If you needed my help, you should have just asked." He says, completely ignoring Keith's question. Like it was Keith all along that wanted help but couldn't ask for it. Honestly, if he wasn't so shocked at Lance's want to follow him around and help him, he would have thought that adorable. Keith rolls his eyes and his lips quirk up in a grin.

"That would be greatly appreciated, thanks." Keith's answer must not have been what Lance was expecting as his cheeks turn redder and he tries to nonchalantly place the books in a reusable green tote. Lance holds the heavier one, giving Keith the second bag. Keith takes it, curiously letting his fingers brush over Lance's, before leading back to his dorm.

Keith wonders if this did happen before and he just never really thought about it. Never remembered moments like these as Lance follows him like a puppy, unbeknownst to himself he was doing it. Or if this was not only a shift in time, or a shift in universe. But, as far as he could tell, that second idea is preposterous and he throws it out the window. He did decide to be nice to Lance, after all.

When they reach Keith's dorm it is five minutes until lockdown. Keith opens the door and walks inside, assuming Lance would too. He sets the bag on the floor by his desk and looks back. Lance stood awkwardly in the doorway, glancing around his room and no doubt cataloging everything.

Keith raises a brow and takes the bag from Lance's hand to set down by the doorway, waiting for him to speak. Lance seemed to hesitate in what he wanted to do.

"Thank you," Keith says once again. Lance blinks and grins.

"Of course, but I'm still going to kick your ass tomorrow on the simulator!" He says haughtily, chin raised proudly as he turns and saunters off. Keith covered his mouth to stifle the laugh at watching Lance try to literally swagger away.

Keith gives a sigh, a smile still on his lips as he closes the door and gets to work.

Keith is hitting his head on the wall by the time he gets to the seventh book. He receives a very angry bang on the wall in retaliation of a student in the room over trying to sleep. Keith groans and huffs, still annoyed that none of these books so much as even provided a single sentence that was useful.

Well, he did expect as much. Many human books about cryptids and magic are handicapped by their isolation from other species in the universe.

Now vampires hold a striking resemblance to the Krrgn people. The Lochness monster reminds him of Tzsana's friend. They were definitely visited by other beings, if his own life on earth was anything to go by. But humans were not aware of anything outside. Even the books on magic were outdated. Most of them were for spells like good luck and happy marriage. Spells Keith didn't need at the moment, nor does he believe they would actually work. Even him, in his ineptitude, knows good relationships come from good communication.

Luck is just a thing that happens.

Keith sighs as he shuts the thick book on spells that tell to gather colored candles and gems and shakes his head. It was nearing three in the morning when he glances at his clock, no wonder his neighbor reacted in such a manner.

His body is tired but his mind is still whirling. The panic that should have welled up in his body was still muted and numb.

Maybe he was going about this all wrong. It's not about the books, or about history. It had something to do with him, Haggar, and the fate of the world.

Keith knows the only thing all three have in common is a connection.

Connection is the key. His memories, past, present, from S-0 and S-1. His connection to Haggar and to the team. What they all mean. As much as he doesn't want to do it.. It might be the only way.

"When I say 'Vol' you say 'tron'." Lance repeats, slower, like he was teaching a child instead of someone who was more or less the same age. "Vol-"

"Vol... tron?" Keith furrows his brows together. They've been at this for the past half hour, every once in awhile Lance trying to teach him another colloquial meme of a past generation. He doesn't understand any of it, really. Sometimes he understands why they're funny. But he doesn't really understand how to do them?

Lance groans and rubs his face.

"Keith, babe. Just. Say. Tron." Lance clears his throat. "Vol-" He looks expectantly to Keith when he opens his mouth and starts from the first syllable again. "Teh-" Lance prompts instead.

"T-tron?"

No. Further.

"You know when you got booted from the Garrison? And that Lance was moved up to fighter class?"

Keith nods, munching on some shrubbery from the planet they were on. It was tough to chew but his sharp teeth shredded it easy. Hunk couldn't handle it too much and blended his together with sweet fruit.

"He kinda stopped trying once you left." Hunk shrugs a bit, sipping on a thick straw. "Since you weren't there to provide any sort of competition."

"Competition I never started, either."

"Right, right. But the teachers compared you two, like, all the time right?" Keith shrugs, he didn't really know. "Well, they did. They kinda used you as an example as the best cadet, and then kinda used your 'discipline' issues as a scare tactic for other students." Keith stares, he... hadn't known that part. "Oh bother... Sorry, I didn't mean for it to come out that way, I just-"

Keith raises a hand and waves it a bit. "Don't worry about it. So, go on?"

Hunk still looks a bit guilty at his blunt speech.

"Uhh, well. I guess it was that... I.. actually don't remember what I wanted to say.." Keith and him stare at each other for a moment, straight faced, before they burst out laughing.

Keith wonders if his time from S-0 to S-2 where just one continuous timeline? Like the end of S-0 wasn't really an end and S-1 was not a new beginning. It was just extra time threaded very, very badly together. So, instead of it being an alternate universe shift it was just, the end of S-0, plus more years adding to S-0 that he originally thought would be S-1.

He thinks that could be a possibility.

Keith also thinks that the reason his anxiety is not running high and rampant, was because he had predicted it. When he woke up in S-1 he didn't know what happened, what caused it. If he was dreaming, if anyone one else was affected. He panicked and wanted- no needed, a sense of normalcy back with his rag-tag team. Even though, from the time he woke up and dragged everyone away with Blue before Shiro came back, he was no longer in S-0.

This time, he knew. The feeling of magic seeping into his skin, the tingling and vibrations down to his very atoms. The same feeling repeated at the end of S-1... He was right. Knowing the outcome takes away from the panic and surprise. But knowing what will happen and how you respond to it when you get to it, are two completely different things.

Keith thinks he is just in a secondary level of shock. Or that, he was so anxious he no longer feels it?

That could be a very plausible reason.

"Kogane! Front and center!" Iverson yells at the front of the classroom. Keith blinks and raises his head to meet his eyes. Front and center? Does he want him to literally come up to the board? There was nothing even written on it. He opts to keep quiet and stare. He hears whispers of students snickering at his blunder and it makes him irritated despite knowing his own situation is different from theirs. He ignores them.

"Are you still sleeping?" Iverson narrows his eyes and Keith internally sighs, feeling his irritation grow. He just wants to think about something that actually matters. Like how his life plays into the fate of the fucking universe. Keith stands and comes up to stand where Iverson waved too. Plopped straight in the fucking center of the front of the class for all to see and judge.

Keith had forgotten how... he really hated the American school system. How intimidation and humiliation were the major things teachers used to try and get kids to learn. He hated, especially, those teachers who brag that no kid passes their class or gets good grades on their exams and homework.

Students not passing your class doesn't make your class challenging. It makes you a shit teacher who doesn't know how to fucking teach.

Keith breathes in and out.

Where was he before he was rudely interrupted?

Right. He was so anxious he no longer feels it. He knows shock also has the same effect. Enough of it makes you calm, sometimes giddy. Keith accepts his own reasoning. If he wasn't having any panic attacks, he'd take it.

What else had he noticed that was the same? Besides Haggar's magic making his skin crawl and he felt that he wouldn't make it. In a roundabout way, he did. That was beside the point. Or maybe that was the point?

The magic.

Keith's magic, her magic. Maybe that was all there is? Or, it was the only explanation. His final magic against hers clashes, somehow, someway, and it sends him back. How and why are still unsure. His connection to her besides being her child is also unsure, but he knows there is something else. Something to do with the fragmented memories of his childhood and that empty ship.

"KOGANE!" Keith jerks back to attention, eyes dart to Iverson looking beyond miffed. Looks like his stupid humiliation tactic didn't work. Dumbass. Keith thinks it's wrong to wish Iverson be taken as a Galra prisoner but he stops his moral code from stopping his imagination.

"What?" Keith asks, both monotone and unintimidated by the glaring eyes and thick eyebrows that furrow. Keith has thick eyebrows too, he could look twice as intimidating as Iverson tries to be easy.

"Care to explain to the class the lesson I just taught?" He asks, it was a quiz. Keith's eye twitched.

"Wasn't listening." He says truthfully, uninterest evident in his voice. He could see the students hold their breath, curious and held in suspense.

"Do you think there is anything more important than my class?" Iverson goes off, voice booming. Despite his human ears, the pitch still makes them hurt.

"Anything is more important than your bitch ass class.." Keith mutters under his breath.

Keith doesn't know what he did to deserve this.

Okay, he did. But in his defense, Iverson was being a bitch ass. Honestly he doesn't even know why he called him that. Lance had taught him how to purposefully twist the English language and form quality insults (Lance puts his thumb and index finger into an OK sign and clicks his tongue twice with a smirk).

Along with that also came the insult: stale end piece of white bread.

Keith thinks he should've called him that instead. Lance said it was really insulting.

Keith dips the sponge in the soapy water and doesn't bother to wring it out before slopping it all over the floor of the flight simulator. He had to clean the whole thing for his misconduct.

"Misconduct my ass..." He mutters to himself. He had nearly cleaned the entire thing, but now he was just scrubbing at one point in particular because the damn stain will not get out. And even though he would rather not have the knees and shins of his uniform are soaked with fucking soap water, he does take his tasks seriously. Most of the time. So, despite hating being made to hand-clean the entire simulator, he was scrubbing furiously at the oil stain in the corner of the room under the pilot wheel where no one can even see it because he takes his task to clean this ship spotless seriously.

When Keith moves, he slips and his head hits the metal edge when he sits up too quick. He hisses and growls, rubbing the back of his head when he hears the scuffle of shoes at the entrance.

"Sup, mullet?" Lance is grinning like he has won. He was in the class when he was sentenced to this punishment. He was probably glad to see the 'golden student' dragged down to a lower level. Keith sighs and makes a face when he realizes his hair is wet, haven touched it with the sponge in his haste to cradle his head.

"What does it look like, genius?" Keith retorts back, he doesn't like it when Lance's voice was laced with something against him. "You were in class." Keith ducks back under the wheel to continue scrubbing furiously.

"Mmm yeah, I just wanna gloat." Lance hums, leaning on the doorway. Keith says nothing, focusing on the stain that he thinks he sees start to fade a miniscule amount. There is a moment of silence before Keith hears the squeak of shoes against the floor. The still wet floor. That Lance was now starting to walk on with dirty shoes. Keith hits his head a second time as he tries to get out from under the console and he grumbles as he rubs his head, this time with his hand that did not hold the sponge.

"Lance..." He warns as he stands, glaring at the very obvious footprints in the soap. It didn't have very obvious dirt and mud tracked in, but still.

"What are you even cleaning down there? It's not like Iverson is gonna check." Keith huffs.

"There's a stain there and it's bothering me."

"Just leave it?" God, Keith forgot Lance only cared about detail and doing things at 110% if he was interested in them.

"The stain is bothering me." Keith repeats. "It's annoying and it won't come out... And get out, you're tracking dirt!" He says, moving to try and push Lance bodily from the simulator. Lance steps to the side as Keith practically lunged at him. "Lance!" He pouts, turning to lunge again.

Lance jumps back with a grin that changes a second later into an oh I fucked up look and his arms quail around. Keith is after him again, only to be pushed down to the ground by an unbelievably warm body.

"Fuck!"

Keith's breath is knocked out of him as they are thrown unceremoniously to the floor, their limbs an awkward, tangled mess. Lance's face is pressed into his chest and Lance's arm is digging uncomfortably into his shoulder blade. And ow, he forgot how it felt to feel pain in his right arm.

"Lance! Hey Lance, where- oh. Sorry. I can see you're busy soooo," Hunk is at the entrance, looking just a bit dismayed at the sight of them. Lance is trying to scramble up but in doing so, the arm under Keith snatches him back down with a gruff huff of breath.

"Hunk! This is not what it looks like-" Lance starts, pulling out his arm and Keith arches his back to help him.

"No, no. I totally get it." Hunk is already tip toeing his way from the door as Lance's face is starting to burn. Keith is finding this amusing despite the soreness in his back. "But uh, Iverson is coming.." Oh, so Hunk was Lance's watch dog while he taunts Keith.

"What!" Lance squawks, scrambling to get up. Keith huffs and sits up. Lance has always been clumsy, but it seems to surprise him as he trips over Keith's legs, the soapy ground not giving him any grip or leverage, and topples back over, hands on either side of Keith's head.

And oh my god.

The expression Lance wore was priceless. For someone who claimed to be a Casanova, he blushed way too easily. Hunk is gone from the door, and Keith thinks from the entire simulator room, when Iverson practically yells their last names and demands to know what tomfoolery (really, who the hell uses that term anymore?) they were up to.

"It's Keith's fault!" Keith's mouth drops at the accusation.

"It is not!"

"Enough! McClain, you can join Kogane in making sure this ship is spotless since you're so eager." Iverson's tone suggested the finality of the situation. Keith could tell Lance wanted to whine his innocence, he held in a snicker as Lance crawled off him. Iverson stalks off with his chin held high.

"It's your fault." Lance accuses again, pouting and making a face at all the soap soaking his clothes.

"Is not. It's what you get for coming here to gloat." Keith snorts a laugh and shakes his head. Lance is sputtering until Keith looks over to him, staring at the mess on his head, and starts to laugh. It was Keith's turn to pout and narrow his eyes. "What?"

"God, your head looks ridiculous." Lance is back on the floor, this time doubled over in laughter as Keith tries to fix whatever he was talking about, only to make it worse. The short strands of his head are sticking up everywhere and his bangs are curly messes at the fringe of his head.

"Shut up or I'll dump the entire bucket of water on you." Keith warns, already making his way to the bucket of soapy water he intended to use for his threat. Lance pauses in his laugh to look at him only start laughing again.

Lance gets a face full of wet sponge that makes him sputter and spit.

"The hell?!" Keith is holding the bucket up now, narrowed eyes watching Lance predatorily. Lance jerks to his senses, giving a nervous chuckle. "Keith, uhh... Buddy, y-you're not really gonna dump that all over me.. are you?" Not that it would matter, their clothes were soaked and ruined anyway. Keith grins and takes a step forward.

"Depends.. Are you gonna keep laughing at my hair?" As if on cue, Lance looks up at his do' and his lips quirk up in a quick show of amusement. The way his eyes squint and his dimples show, Keith knows he was going to laugh. The water in the bucket is flung at Lance as he gives a(n) (un)manly screech.

Keith groans, he picks up his head a few inches off the desk and drops it down, repeating every few ticks. The next time his head comes up, the paper is stuck to his forehead and he huffs an irritated breath.

Detention.

When was the fucking last time he got detention? What was he, a middle schooler? He doesn't even remember getting detentions in S-0... Or he probably did, plenty of times, but when the fate of the universe rests on your shoulders you tend to forget getting in trouble at a school light-years away.

But here he was. For the second day in a row. Because of Lance.

With Lance.

Lance.

Keith looks over to the side where Lance was seated across the row on the opposite side of the room once his paper finally peels off his forehead. It looked like Lance was actually working on the stupid assignment they gave them. But Keith was just over getting in trouble and having to rewrite a stupid paragraph about how he would follow the rules from that day forth. He purses his lips and picks up his pencil, glaring a hole into the paper.

Magic is flicking on his palms and he kinda wants to use it to make his paper combust into flame. But then he'd get blamed for arson even though they can't prove it and he'd get kicked out before he was supposed to. So, instead he starts scrawling messy letters on the paper as he thinks.

Keith doesn't remember having an actual relationship with Lance back at the Garrison in S-0. Doesn't remember it much, actually, like every other part of his memory. He purses his lips again, writing down what he sees but not paying a lick of attention to what the words say as the silence in the room drags on. The proctor is sitting in the seat at the front, legs resting on top of the desk.

He wonders why this time is different. Why Lance is around more and more as the week drags on. It seems they always get into trouble, too. If the detention for the second day in a row is anything to go by.

Then again, he could have just forgotten about these things.

Keith stops writing once he was done, getting up to turn in the paper. The proctor takes it and without glancing over it, setting upside down on the desk over Lance's, and Keith makes his way back to his desk. When he glances at Lance, he was playing with his pencil, pushing out his lips and resting the pencil on top like a mustache. It makes Keith feel just a bit better knowing Lance would always be Lance, no matter which universe or time.

"It's not that I hated you, but you were such a faraway person, you know? Like, unreachable." Lance is pouting, picking at the chipping nail polish on his nails done with purple and blue by Pidge a few days ago. "Honestly, when I first heard of you, then met you, I literally thought you were some kind of valley girl?"

"Valley girl?" Keith huffs out, face scrunching up. "I am not a valley girl."

"Yeah, yeah. I get that now. But before, it was like, you seemed like one. You got good grades, did good in school, never got in trouble-"

"I got myself kicked out of school."

"Besides that," Lance waves his hand. "But, anyway. It was like, you were that goody-two shoes kinda person, so I didn't think you'd be interested in chilling with us, ya know? We got into trouble a bunch of times." Lance hums, peeling off a particularly large piece of polish off his thumb, then smiles. "I think that if I didn't think you were too pretentious to hang out with us, we would have been great friends."

Keith sighs loudly, but a smile curls his lips.

"You sure it wasn't your imaginary rivalry that kept us apart?" He teased, poking his cheek with his own colored nail.

"McClain!" Iverson yells out once Lance stumbles out from the simulator with his old team. He'd been given a chance to fly and had, for the second time this week, failed. Keith was standing behind at the class, watching with growing irritation at how Iverson and students pick at easy to make mistakes. That and the simulator is nothing like actually flying. Especially with the lions.

Keith watches Lance's shoulder hunch closer together and nod at the 'constructive criticism' before the next group is up. When Lance catches Keith watching, his expression turns a bit miffed as he shuffles over, trying to keep up a bravado.

"Came to see me beat your score, Kogane?" He asks, shoulders back, back straight, and chest... a little bit pushed out. Keith's lips quirk in a smile at how he looked like a bird puffing out its plumage.

"I think it'll take another go for you to get close." Keith says, unfolding his arms and resting one on his hip instead.

"You're to blame. You made the entire place too slippery and I messed up!" Lance says back, huffing. Some of the classmates glance at him every once in a while until Iverson calls Lance's name to pay attention. Lance narrows his eyes at Keith, blaming him for getting in trouble before his eyes go to the class.

Keith feels his fingers twitch at his side before they reach out, two hooking around Lance's wrist as a comforting gesture.

"You'll do better next time," Keith is close at his side, nearly whispering into his ear. "You're a great pilot, Lance. Don't let that asshole Iverson make you think any different." Keith doesn't look at the way Lance's face reddens as he turns to leave back to his own class.

Keith was in detention, again. It was his own fault, this time. Well, it was more like, because he messed up his letter-thing the first time, he was given detention a second time to re-do it. The teacher had been angry when she read over the half-English, half-Altean paragraph. Keith wasn't even sure when he started writing in Altean, but he had to be careful now.

With greater reluctance, he focuses on the task at hand and rewrites it all in English this time. He turns it in, and sighs as he slumps in his chair for the remainder of lunch time.

Keith looks over his failed paragraph, trying to decipher what he wrote in Altean as he loiters in the common area before his next class. Really, it was like he wrote the paragraph correctly, but he wrote it in Altean phonetics. In Altean the words are gibberish, but when he read it to himself out loud, it was a heavily accented sentence of what he needed to write.

He quickly folds the paper and tucks it into the pocket of his uniform blazer.

Did Keith ever mention how much he hated the school? How much he hated Iverson? He wonders how he hadn't been kicked out earlier. Magic dances on his palms, whispering encouragement to use it. He was really tempted, too.

And when Mr. Knight called out Lance on a mistake he made on the equation on the board, he did. Keith hadn't notice the static light travel on the floor until Mr. Knight was already falling, tripping him when he stood completely still. The students were quiet, some stifling their laughter.

Keith pursed his lips to stop his grin from forming.

From then on, Keith had made it an accidental habit to play petty pranks on the teachers using the minimal control he has on his magic. Keith knows he shouldn't, because his magic was supposed to be used for good. It was supposed to be used to heal people and protect his friends.

Keith got around this unspoken rule by rationalizing he was doing it for Lance.

Whenever a teacher would do undeserving things, Keith would trip them or slam the door on their face as they try to walk out. Whenever a student tried to pick a fight, Keith admits there were really only a few, most of them having to do with Lance accidentally flirting with an already taken girl, Keith would shift objects around them in subtle inches so they would crash into them without knowing what really happens.

The most he's done so far is ruin some girl's phone when she purposefully flirted with Lance, only to get her boyfriend to get jealous. Keith does not understand people like that, doesn't want too. But he zapped her phone as she held it in her dainty hands and she dropped it with a scream as it combusted.

Time is moving slow and Keith is unsure if it is because school was always this boring, or because he was used to the fast-paced life of war. Either way, he gets hung up on whether or not to wait to get the team together. Hunk and Lance are present, but Pidge is not. They don't forge their papers until the incident. He could find them online and get in contact with them, but then would they even believe him? Probably not.

Keith sighs as he hears Lance around the corner, trying to smooth talk another girl. He rolls his eyes and goes the other way. There was something that felt off about using his magic here, without the presence of Red or the castle. Or just using it on earth in general, even if it was just simple little things like moving objects around.

Besides that, he had also been thinking about Haggar and the rebel Galra he thought was his father. That is, after thinking about it very long, he thinks he is wrong. His father can't be a Galra rebel. For one, that would mean that sometime between Haggar joining the Galra and Keith being born, Haggar would have had to have some good in her.

Like that would ever happen. Her very being makes Keith's skin crawl.

Or, the Galra would have had to find some way to love her. Again, a bit on the 'like hell that could ever happen' side. Because it could be that the Galra was first awful, but after Keith's birth had a change of heart because he had someone he wanted to protect now? Keith didn't think it really worked that way.

Then, there was the feeling that Haggar, had he assumed the Galra rebel kidnapped him and sent him to earth, would look for him. She did not. Honestly, in S-0 she only looked amused by him being alive. Like that wasn't even a possibility. But she was his mother biologically, that he knew.

Keith sighs as he plops into an armchair in the student common rooms, slouching into the cushions and staring at the bright lights above.

The light was different than this one. It was brighter, pinker, the color of their magic. The color of quintessence. His was so much like hers. He wonders if that was because they are of the same kin or because he had learned from her. All the years he had learned magic in combination with S-0 and S-1, he had never been told and he had never asked how magic worked. He wishes he did now, because it would be easier to reach whatever conclusion he was trying to find.

Keith closes his eyes, breathes in, then exhales, as he makes a mental list.

Keith was certain of only three things:

1) He was Haggar's kit,

2) The rebel Galra was not his father, and

3) Haggar was to blame for everything.

Without any proof, he doesn't know how he knows he is not the Galra rebel's son, his kit, but he gets this tingle in the back of his neck that pricks his skin and yells in the negative. The same feeling turned positive when he thinks of Haggar and how, maybe, she was the only reason this was happening.

Lance is leaning against the back of his chair, running his hands through Keith's hair without permission or any regard for personal space despite them not being close yet.

"Dude. You've got white hair already." Lance says, picking at a few strands and gives a little tug to see if it was real. Keith flinches a little but lets him do as he pleases, book in front of him to pretend he was working.

"Do I? I haven't noticed." He says, trying to look at the strands Lance gathers but does not pull them out from his scalp.

"Yeah, they're not like greying either. They're like, bleached white." Keith furrows his brows and grabs the strands Lance found, staring at what he could. He didn't know if this was good or bad. He'd never had white hair during his time at the Garrison. He had only found them in growing numbers years after he started using his magic. He had only been using it in small increments and his hair was already changing.

"It must be genetic." He says, shrugging and letting go of his hair.

Lance was right; his white hair is becoming plentiful. However, his marks do not show, nor do his ears start to point. He worries, because in S-1 his change had been within a few weeks of him starting his magic. In S-0, his change took longer... Keith chalks it up to not knowing what he was and what he could do. But now, his change was taking longer than in S-1 and he wonders if it is because of the intensity of which he uses his magic.

So, he could conclude his change and the intensity of his change is directly correlated to his magic and the degree of the magic he wields.

It does not, however, explain for the white strands in his hair and how they had started to show before his marks and ears. In S-0 and S-1 it had followed a pattern, wielding magic leads to Altean marks which leads to his full Galra/Altean form which then leads to the white hair.

Now that he thinks about it, S-1 had more white in his hair than S-0...

But as Lance sits behind him in class during a break and sifts through his hair to find every single strand, he doesn't think it's necessarily a bad thing. At least if Lance was taunting him that he was becoming an old person already, he wouldn't be getting in trouble with anyone else, or flirting with anyone else for that matter.

And that was just fine by Keith.

It brought back the normalcy he craves. Normalcy he couldn't get until Shiro disappears next month, until Pidge enrolls. Until he is supposed to be booted.

Keith sighs softly and leans back into the long fingers that moved along his scalp. They get weird looks from onlookers that Keith pointedly ignores. Sure, it might be weird to see golden boy student from the fighter class allowing the Casanova from cargo class to be handsy with him, but they can mind their own damn business.

The clock is ticking, a minute away from the class ending even though they've had free time for the past ten minutes. When the small hand touches twelve everyone packs up their things and leaves. Keith does the same, Lance's hands no longer on his scalp. Keith misses the heat from his fingertips as he leaves the room.

Being behind the wheel of the simulator was weird. As weird as it felt taking that small ship to get Allura back. Being behind the controls of any ship besides Red's was weird. There was no push at the back of his mind, no purring tickling his mind.

It felt hollow. Empty.

Keith thinks his flying is a lot better than before, getting the mission done in the least amount of time with the most amount of success. His crew is walking out of the simulator, cheering to themselves, when he stares at the console, getting a shiver running down his spine. He feels a well of magic around him and it is gone as quick as it came.

Weird, but nothing too out of the ordinary, Keith thinks. He gets up, smoothing down the lines in his uniform and wishing he had something more flowing. Like his robes, or Lance's shirt that he could practically swim in. Keith steps out of the simulator, eyes up to scan the crowd of students from the same class. The teacher is talking with pride, but Keith doesn't pay attention to the praise. His eyes find Lance somewhere at the front, sulking and pouting.

Keith is about to reach out when he feels something well behind him. He turns just in time to see pink sparks running across the metal. Keith glances around and purses his lips when no one else sees it. Notices it. Of course they wouldn't.

The teacher announces the next group to go up. Keith goes to stand by the back, away from the simulator and suspicious fluctuations of magic. As long as he wasn't near it, it didn't seem to swell up. He wonders if it's normal, for him to affect technology. In space, he didn't. The technology long since advanced to be immune to their magic. Evolved to be charged by it, even.

Suddenly he misses Red, the comforting presence she provided, the small bunker with freshly washed sheets. He feels a yearning to go to Blue, now. He won't be able to fly, of course, not without Lance. And he definitely can't leave without Hunk and Pidge. But maybe Blue would be able to provide the same comfort for him.

Keith sighs, leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes, face up to the ceiling. He misses the way Lance watches him so intently, both with lingering jealousy and growing concern.

"Hunk, come on, we have to find out what's wrong with him. He's acting weird." Lance says, peeking around the corner of the hallway.

"Why do you even care?" Hunk is stage whispering behind him. He doesn't want to do this, but Lance always has a way to make him come along. Peeking around the corner at the spot above Lance, he sees Keith standing by the expanse of windows along the hall. Sometimes the Garrison has pretty sceneries like this: a hallway filled with floor-to-ceiling windows and a few sets of chairs and couches lines up to lounge in.

"Because," Lance stresses in his own stage whisper. "If my rival isn't at his top best, how can I feel good when I defeat him?"

Keith is in one of those lounge chairs now, turned toward the scenery. It was one of those rare days when it rained all day, the clouds were dark and heavy, casting a gloom everywhere. His eyes seem to flick up, then trail down to the bottom of the window, and then they look back up. Hunk is positive Keith is literally just watching droplets run from the top to the bottom. It looked nice... Did Keith play that game where he cheers one droplet to win, too?

"Then why don't you go talk to him?" Hunk looks down at Lance, straightening himself out so he wasn't creeping on a classmate.

Lance sputters as he hides back behind the wall. "I will not let him think I'm worried." Hunk raises a brow.

"But.. you are?" Lance glares at him, like how dare he point that out, before shushing him and looking back around the corner. Hunk sighs and peeks again.

Keith is slouched in the chair, shoes off as he brings his legs close to his body. He looked cold, despite the warm air in the building and the windows being thick doubled paned glass for best insulation. His arms hug his body, eyes twitching at the far off lightning.

Hunk thinks this is weird. He means, it's s obvious Lance was worried about whatever was apparently wrong with Keith. But they had been watching him for a total of maybe 15 minutes. Watching him watch the falling sky, shivering now in his seat. He was about to give up this sneaking around and go over to offer a blanket and get some hot chocolate or coffee or something, Keith might just need some company.

There was a large clap of thunder and the brightest flash that had Keith literally flipping backwards. The chair he sat on fell backwards while he scrambled to his feet and his back hit the wall, hand clutching at his chest, his uniform is wrinkling with how hard he gripped it. His eyes are wide and he breathes hard through his mouth. After a moment, he starts to slide down back against the wall.

Hunk furrows his brow and shares a look with Lance, unsure. It wasn't until Keith had his fingers threaded through his hair and pulling them hard that they intervened.

Lance was at his side at an instant, tripping over his feet.

"Keith, Keith. Buddy," Lance tries, hands over Keith's as he wasn't able to get to his shoulders with Keith's scrunched up positions. Keith sucks in a shaky breath, eyes screwed shut. When he opens them, Hunk is startled to see a flash of gold. It's gone seconds later and he thinks it was a trick of the light from the storm.

"... Lance?" Keith is blinking his eyes non-stop. Lance is finally able to take Keith's hands from his hair; they're trembling, Hunk notices. Up close, he could see the growing white hairs Lance has been talking to him practically non-stop about.

"What are you doing out here watching a rainstorm if you're afraid of lightning?" Lance asks, his face shows barely concealed worry. Keith flinches away from another flash of light, a lot smaller in intensity.

"I'm not scared.." Keith murmurs, but makes himself smaller, Lance blocking out the flashing lights. Lance is about to point out that he was when Hunk stopped them.

"Why don't we go back to the dorm?" He suggests. "I can make us the best water based packet hot chocolates."

Keith blinks, looking up at him. He is quiet for a moment, then, a chuckle works its way past his lips. It was light and slightly strained.

"Sure, Hunk. That sounds good." He says quietly, uncurling from himself and standing on shaky legs to get and put on his shoes. Lance pulls him down, face red and voice high.

"Dude!"

"What?" Hunk huffs.

"Dude!" Lance only repeats. Hunk rolls his eyes.

"Oh, come on. Lance. Stop it. He obviously needs company. Stop acting shy because your crush is visiting your room." Hunk raises a brow, a sly grin coming to rest on his clips as Lance's face got redder. He couldn't even defend himself as Keith's footsteps could be heard, boots back on his feet. "Ready?" Hunk grins, deciding not to pay Lance any attention as he leads Keith away with a hand at his shoulder.

Sometimes being roommates with Lance had its perks.

And sometimes they don't.

But right at this moment, they do. Hunk is grinning as he thinks up his 'master plan'. It wasn't really a plan. It was more of a thought he had that could kill two birds with one stone: Keith having company at night and embarrassing Lance as payback for getting him so many trips to the principal's office. He wasn't going to go too far, though. He was a nice person.

Lance is setting up a movie on his laptop while Hunk is making hot chocolate in their tiny kitchenette. Keith's shoes are by the door, sitting on Lance's bed, idly looking around while he waits. He and Lance have already changed out of their cadet uniforms, but Keith is still wearing his.

"Keith, did you want to change? We can lend you some clothes." Keith looks to him and tilts his head.

"I can go get my clothes from my dorm." Hunk shakes his head.

"Nah, it's the other dormitory across campus right? It's pretty far and you must be tired." He brings over the cups and sets them on the desk. "Actually, you should sleep over, too." He says as an afterthought. Keith is hesitant.

"I.. Are we even allowed too?" Hunk pauses at that. He usually is about not getting in trouble but...

"Uhh, it doesn't matter?" He tries to make it sound more confident. Keith doesn't look convinced, but nods anyway.

"Lance, have any clothes Keith can borrow?" Hunk just really wants to tease Lance.

"Uhh, nope, no. I guess we can't have a sleepover." Hunk nearly smacks his hand on his face.

"He'll just borrow my clothes then. That okay?" He glances to Keith. Keith smiles and nods.

"Yeah, thanks." He says, letting his cup cool.

"Hunk, why?" Lance whines, silently freaking out because dude, his supposedly best friend invited his rival and definitely not a-maybe crush he has had on said rival to a sleepover and said guy is currently using their shower. He had been forced to give up a pair of sweats to Keith since Hunk's would literally just pool at his ankles. He took his sweater, though, and Lance can practically see the bottom of the sweater reaching his knees easy.

Anyway. Back to the betrayal. Hunk is grinning like a Cheshire cat from his side of the room.

"Oh, come on. I'm giving you an opportunity to scope out your competition." Hunk snickers at his own joke, Lance feels his head is about to combust.

"Is this about that time I ate all your pumpkin Oreos? I'm sorry." Lance drags his hand down his face. Hunk's grin only grew when the water stops.

"Maaayybeee." Hunk song sang. Lance can only look at him pleadingly to not pull any more stunts that aren't good for his heart as Keith walks out of the bathroom, cheeks pink and steam rolling off him in waves.

Lance was right, the sweater reached nearly to his knees, sliding a little off his shoulder and showing a large expanse of shoulder. Even the sweatpants were loose. His hair was damp, clinging to his skin on his cheeks and around his neck. His uniform was neatly folded and held in his hands, towel around his shoulders. Hunk is telling him where he can set his uniform and the towel before ushering Keith to sit by Lance.

Lance internally screams.

"What movie are we watching?" Keith asks, reaching past him to get his now-cooled hot chocolate, wiggling to get slouched and comfy.

"Uhh, I was thinking The Fifth Element." Keith looks at him blankly. Christ, he didn't even know old classics. Lance grins. "Well, it's a great movie." He says, excitedly getting ready the player as Hunk waves and slinks off to take his own shower. Lance is a little nervous, but he sits next to Keith and starts the movie.

Throughout the movie, Keith it thinking. About the flash of light, the rumble of thunder past the closed blinds, Lance's body heat seeping through the thick fabrics of his borrowed clothes.

The Fifth Element is oddly applicable to his situation in a roundabout way.

But, Keith does not that think love can save the world. Love can definitely provide motive to protect and win, but it itself cannot win wars, or else we wouldn't have any anymore.

It was nice to dream, though.

Hunk and Lance are quiet and ultimately invested in the movie despite watching it so many times before. Their mouths are shut and their eyes are glued to the screen. Lance doesn't even notice when Keith starts to lean on his side, head on his shoulder and scooting his way closer every minute or so until Keith's side is pressed up against him. He's listening to the bullets shoot at the vent in the movie, the suspenseful music when Korben Dallas is hiding in the theater, eyes closed. Keith is too tired to lift his head when Lance starts to move, Hunk snickering a little away, no doubt holding a hand over his mouth.

Keith expects him to flop down when Lance goes to change the movie they watch, instead an arm is slung around his shoulder. Lance's body is tense while he hushes Hunk, and then starts to relax when it was apparent Keith wouldn't 'wake up'. It was comforting and domestic and just so calm that Keith is tempted to just stay here.

No war, no fighting, no death, lost limbs and magic, no Galra.

But he can't. Because guilt will eat at him for not saving Shiro, for leaving Matt in the hands of Galra, never calming those worrying waves Red sends his way.

For not saving everyone.

Keith nudges his head into Lance's neck, laying his arm lazily across his waist. It was a comfort he'll allow himself to have, being by Lance. His upbeat attitude and selflessness were some of his best qualities, along with his intelligence. How he will literally throw himself in the way between a teammate and a bullet to save them, regardless of if he would get hurt. Lance was a literal blessing to the world.

As was Hunk, and Pidge, Shiro, Allura, and Coran.

Lance tenses for a moment, and then relaxes. Keith hears Hunk cooing, Lance is mumbling something he can't make out.

"What should we watch next?" Lance's voice murmurs, whispering. Keith hums a little, sinking further into the welcoming heat.

"Treasure Planet.." Keith mumbles. Lance freezes when he spoke, chuckling nervously.

"Uhh, s-sure, okay." Keith is jostled just a little as Lance leans to grab the laptop.

Keith is knocked out when the music starts playing.

If there was one thing Keith couldn't figure out, it was the strange feeling of haven lived many lives. He doesn't mean live for centuries with different names; although he has a feeling he is much older than nineteen, he means it in a reincarnation type of way. It always starts the same, with purple liquid and electricity.

He never lived long, though. Never to his age now. Or five years from now.

The first time he was dead before he was even able to breathe.

Keith gasps as he wakes, sitting up quickly. The room is dark, it wasn't even dawn yet. Lance is sleeping between Keith and the wall, limbs spread out. Keith was amazed he hadn't been literally kicked off the bed with all his moving. Hunk is back in his own bed, snoozing away.

Keith puts a hand to his chest and breathes, just to make sure he still can. His dream reminds him of space. How, without the use of a helmet you can't even suck in a breath. It gets stuck, like when you purposely close off the bottom of your throat, and the pressure just builds as your oxygen depletes.

His heart is ramming hard against his rib cage, bouncing off the tendons around the bones. It hurts. But it doesn't hurt as bad as suffocating when there is air to breathe. Slowly his heart slowed and calmed, the sun starting to peek over the horizon. The light is muted through the blinds as birds start to chirp, what little of them there were.

Keith opens his eyes once the anxiety subsides.

The second time he can breathe. They're shallow and few in between, but at least he can breathe. As days go by his breathing gets easier, getting used to the filtered air of wherever he lived. In this life he lives a few weeks until a sickness stops his heart.

The third time he can't remember. He knows there was a third time, but no memory to go along with it. He was there, and suddenly, he was gone. It wasn't without pain, but it was without bodily pain.

The fourth time he lives for a month or two until he is beheaded. There is no explanation. Vaguely, he thinks he can remember something being wrong with him? Something his caretakers wanted him to have that he couldn't learn how to do.

The fifth time...

.

..

...

It goes on, Keith doesn't know how long. Maybe another handful of times, each time able to live a little longer than before until he is either stripped of life or taken by an ailment.

Until the last time, the one that he grows to be today. Given the other times, he is amazed he survived this time. His head is hurting with the memories of his 'past selves', his frontal lobe pulsing against his skull as he buries his face in Lance's pillow while the other two get food from the mess hall and medicine from the infirmary.

Every life gets more painful, the shocks running through his body at higher levels and longer intervals. Keith takes a breath as he feels the numb aftershock run on his skin. He is glad to have a moment alone to calm down, stomach in knots. His muscles keep twitching and he tenses them to try and get them to stop.

Keith's relationship with Lance is weird.

And by weird, he means weird. Lance is still boasting his skill and challenging him to simulator fights after class, comparing grades on tests, and seventy percent of the time, pout-glaring when Keith is able to win them. But then, sometimes Hunk would drag him from his solitary room to their dorm to watch movies and eat popcorn or take him out to eat breakfast for dinner at a nearby diner.

At those moments, Lance tries to keep up rivalry pretenses. Key word tries. They usually start bickering and laughing about stupid things, like dipping your chicken strips with maple syrup in ranch because who the hell does that? Lance does. Keith would drown his pancakes with raspberry syrup and downs a bite of that with a cup of warm coffee that was bitter no matter how much creamer and sugar he adds.

Diner coffee, go figure.

Keith feels the pressure of magic grow every time he is behind the wheel of the simulator. Every time he takes the wheel, every time he stands next to it or steps into the room. Hell, he feels it grow as he passes the entrance when he walks along the opposite wall. It doesn't subside until he is a good forty feet away.

It's ominous and it gets him anxious.

Keith doesn't want to be in the room as his skin starts to crawl.

"Team five." The instructor calls, Keith is reluctant to peel himself away from the wall he presses himself again. But his name is called and he is made to walk to the simulator ship. He doesn't take his eyes off it, eyes locked on the metal even though he doesn't see any sparks dance along the top. His heart picks up pace as he steps through the threshold and sits in the passenger seat.

Stillness.

Keith sighs as the thrum of magic stops, and mechanically goes through the fake flight mission with ease. It was when the ship stops moving that it builds back up instantly. His eyes widen as sparks start to melt cords and buttons.

"Get out now!" He yells, jumping from his seat. His classmates smell the burning silicon of tubes and other materials and scream, trying to get out the door.

It's stuck.

They yell louder, banging on the door that wouldn't open. Keith is looking around frantically, eyes falling on a box of tools for repair. He rummages through it, feeling the sparks grow larger. He finds a crowbar, not big but it would have to do. The panic around him is muted through his shock as he tries to pry the door apart from the melted edge. Someone else is helping him pull the door to the side.

Keith pushes his class mates out the door, fully intent to jump out himself until he feels a familiar tingle down the back of his neck. The one that whispers you'll never make it and you're meant to die. It freezes him in his tracks. He looks out to the panicked students out the door, catching a pair of magnificent blue eyes before he turns back to the console.

Keith barely had enough time to push his magic back against the flash of bright pink light, as cold and unforgiving as empty space.

A/N Thank you so much for continuing to stay with Kosmonat! This installation is very short, but I think it may serve a purpose to the story. At least I hope it does.. well, enjoy!