A/N: Welllllll, I have no idea what to say for this. Except, uhh, I'm sorry and enjoy the cuteness before I rip it away and thrust you into unending agony!:D And also confusion. This entire thing just confuses me. I don't know what I wrote, but yeah.

When Lance had been accepted into the Garrison, he was ecstatic.

His uniform was just a tad too big. ("You'll grow into it in no time.") Lance strived to be excellent; follow in the footsteps of his big sister, despite the nervousness.

The first time he met Keith was during orientation when he was fifteen. At first sight, Lance couldn't stop staring at the boy down the row. He looked grumpy: arms crossed across his chest like he'd rather be anywhere else. His lips down-turned in a scowl-pout, rocking that resting bitch face.

Despite his don't fucking come near me aura he emitted, Lance was smitten. So, he asked around.

Turns out, there were a lot of rumors floating around about him.

He only got in because of Shirogane.

I heard he's an orphan. His parents probably couldn't deal with his attitude.

He's probably part of the Russian mafia.

Didn't you hear? He beat Kenny blood.

I overheard he actually stole Shirogane's car!

Neither of which pointed to actually knowing anything about the boy with the bad attitude, walking around aloof and alone.

Needless to say, when Lance attempted to get closer, he was harshly rebutted. And since then, he had worked his tail off to beat Keith in academics.

Getting better grades than Keith wasn't easy, despite him looking like he spent absolutely zero time studying. Often times, Lance would be just shy of one point of tying with Keith on tests and homework.

That only served to make Lance angrier. Well, to say he was angry about it was wrong. He was... upset? Offended? Feeling like he got the short end of the stick because he studied his behind off well into the night and Keith fucking Kogane just walks in, probably never haven opened his textbook since it was assigned to him, and proceeds to completely wipe the floor with the other classmates, Lance included?

He was insubordinate, got into fights, for which Lance heard the only reason he was allowed to stay there was because Takashi Shirogane, his fricken hero, vouched for him.

It had been a few years and everything was pretty much the same. Lance still working double time to beat Keith in whatever he did, even if he couldn't. Lance was nothing if not tenacious.

One day, however, Lance saw someone different than the boy he'd come to know as Keith Kogane.

Lance had been crying from a recent breakup. He had thought they'd be together forever; it doesn't matter if he always thinks that, Hunk. At the time it was always true and he always had great dreams about love. Even if a little voice in his head told him it wouldn't last and he should shield his heart, he doesn't, and he always ends up hurt. It never hurts any less.

His eyes were red-rimmed, sniffling as he shoves his way out of the bathroom and down the hall, ready to get to his room and drown himself in ice cream and Hunk's comfort food.

That was when he had knocked into Keith.

Lance narrows his eyes in a glare, beating the pissed off look he knew Keith would wear from being in his way and for some reason Lance just couldn't handle it right now. Not when he was still smarting from the breakup, eyes red, hair a mess.

"What do you want, Mullet?" Lance scowls, straightening up. He stalled, though, like a jerk in his conscience, because this was not the Keith he had been dying to keep up with. His eyes were wide— or probably just big naturally, framed by long lashes that caress his cheeks as he blinks slowly, eyes glassy.

It wasn't like Keith to look like this and Lance briefly entertained the idea that Keith had gone through his own breakup, however ridiculous the thought was. Normally Keith would glare and tell them to watch where they were going, barely sparing a glance to whoever he crashed into or who crashed into him. So Lance thought it would be the best thing to beat him to the punch.

"Are you going to keep staring or get out of people's way?" Lance straightens up, ready for a fight— wants a fight. Keith's face goes through a myriad of different and new expressions, none of which Lance, in his current emotionally stunted state, could decipher. Keith's brows pinch together just lightly, pink lips, slightly chapped, pressed together in thought. Then, so gently that Lance nearly had to strain his ears, he spoke.

"No, sorry."

Carefully, Keith steps around Lance and for some reason he seemed smaller than the Keith he saw walking around with his head held high and with a sort of confidence that didn't care about the opinions of others. Lance was flabbergasted enough to turn as Keith passed, watching his back disappear down a hallway and into the last classroom.

The same classroom Lance needed to get to, despite his intention to ditch it.

He was definitely not looking forward to it.

The class passed as excruciatingly as he thought it would. For most of it, he didn't pay attention, eyes glued to Keith. Lucky for Lance that he sat right behind Keith, able to pretend to stare at the board while he was really watching Keith, usually leaning back in his seat and eyes out the window, slouching forward and scribbling something on paper in sporadic bursts.

He was twitchier than Lance had ever seen him be. But even that didn't deter him from answering correctly when the teacher called on him. Lance grits his teeth against the flare of jealousy and glares at the back of his head. Showoff, he thought to himself even though Keith was doing no such thing. He didn't even seem to want to answer the teacher. He seemed smaller, unsure of himself and his place, at least it seemed that way to Lance.

Maybe this could be Lance's time to shine.

Shine though he tried, Lance wasn't provided with opportunity to one-up Keith in the classes they shared. And in the very last one, as Lance was gearing up for a fight for some reason, Keith had quite literally disappeared seconds after the bell rang. It was weird in and of itself. Keith never managed to fly under the radar, his presence was persistent and demanding even while he shied away from interactions aggressively.

After not being able to find neither hide nor hair of the Golden Boy, Lance trudges his way to the library for his part-time job. Unlike some emo kid, he didn't get a full ride to the Garrison. And even though his tuition was all paid off, thanks in part to his older sister shelling out half of it and his parents the rest, he still wanted to earn some money for stuff he liked; he couldn't possibly ask his family after they provided so much for him already.

The rest of the night was spent in relative silence and monotonous, repetitive tasks. Checking in books that had been returned and issuing late fees until it was time to close and usher out any and all possible student loitering in the library.

Sauntering around the bookshelves, he wasn't prepared to see what lay around the corner. Lance thought he was hallucinating— no more late-night movies with Hunk.

Keith stood in the middle of two halls of bookshelves, eyes glued to the pages he flipped through of a thin book. That in and of itself seemed like he would have hallucinated, but what really shocked him into silence were the multitudes of books floating around him. They seemed in a standstill, left airborne as if some invisible person was holding it.

"Holy crow!" Lance exclaims after gasping in air. Like a spell broken, all the books dropped simultaneously to the floor. Keith jumped in surprise, concentration broken as his head jerked to look at Lance, eyes wide like he'd been caught. "How did you do that?"

Keith seemed to mentally shake himself off, face going neutral as he sat back on his legs, grabbing the fallen books nonchalantly and placing them back into their slots or in a pile by him. "Do what?"

"Don't lie!" Lance exclaims, waving his arms about like it made sense. He couldn't play dumb with what Lance knew he saw. He knows Keith can see him from the corner of his eye. "Books! Floating!"

"Books don't float, Lance."

Keith said it so simply, so nicely, but that wasn't what made Lance pause. Keith called him Lance.

He knows my name!

Lance breaks out of his stupor, "I know what I saw!" He huffs, stalking over to the stack of books, haven remembered he was walking around this isolated library for a reason. "What are you even...?" He trails off, coming to the stack and picking up the two books at the top and snorts in amusement. "Seriously?"

Keith gives a hum, shoving books back into their place with a weird kind of gentleness Lance wouldn't have expected from a bad boy like Keith.

Doesn't he know not to put the books back on the shelf? Lance's brain helpfully supplies but he kept quiet, watching for a moment.

"If the books weren't floating, how come they're all over the floor?" He asks accusingly. There was no way he had hallucinated that. No way.

"I dropped them when they weren't what I was looking for." Keith said so matter-of-factly that Lance wondered how he could do it so easily when his statement contradicted so vastly to his actions.

"What are you looking for, exactly?"

Keith raises a brow and looks to him as he pushes the last book into place.

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

It didn't seem like Keith was looking to pick a fight, there wasn't defensiveness or accusation in his tone. But Lance was still feeling a bit frisky from his previous ordeal.

"I'm the library assistant; I could have helped you find what you were looking for... never thought you'd be one for conspiracy theories, Mr. Perfectionist." Lance was sure this would rile him up. He had heard countless stories about how labeling could make Keith lose it.

Except it doesn't. Keith gets this fond little look on his face as he grabs the stack of books with a bit of difficulty, minus the ones Lance held, and it went from his waist to his chin, dwarfing him in comparison.

"Oh, yes. I'm all about the conspiracy theories." He says, trying to swipe at the books Lance held just out of reaching distance. "Because ninety-five percent of them are true." Keith huffs and gives up getting the two books and then he was starting to move his way to the check out and Lance helplessly follows.

"Awful lot of books, though." Lance says almost offhandedly. Internally, he was screaming at himself. What the hell was he doing? Keith turns to him, eyes falling on Lance's "I can help" badge pinned to his apron. Why he needed an apron to handle books, he has no idea and he has honestly never asked.

"I like reading." Keith answers simply, like he had all the patience in the world for Lance's idiotic antics.

"Heavy, too." Lance avoids his gaze, watching the librarian scan his ID and then the books. Lance should have known Keith had no idea about subtlety.

"Are you.. Are you offering to help carry my books?" Lance's cheeks filled with heat, especially seeing the look the librarian gave him. It wasn't disgust, or exasperation. It was somewhere in the ballpark of oh, young love.

"If you needed my help, you should have just asked." Lance says haughtily, taking it upon himself to grab the reusable totes. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Keith seem shocked before his lips quirk into a grin, aimed at him, even if he rolled his eyes.

"That would be greatly appreciated, thanks." Lance nearly trips over his own feet while standing still, clumsily packing up the books even as his cheeks fill further with heat, enough that even he knew it would be easy to see against his dark complexion.

Lance hands over the lighter bag— he was a gentleman, okay? And his breath catches as Keith's fingers brush by his own as he hands the bag over. They were oddly cold, like the grace of frost along a window pane, accompanied by a tickle of electricity; not painful or alarming, but a gentle caress that juxtaposed the chill.

Lance is left to trail after Keith in silence, unsure of what else to say or comment— he was not used to this Keith, subdued and kind and he smiles at Lance like they've been friends forever. That alone makes Lance wonder if this is all a dream.

Keith leaves the door wide open as he comes into his dorm room, a singles room on the other side of campus. Lance had never seen the outside of his room, let alone the inside. It was neat and clean and almost devoid of personal effects, but he guessed being an orphan had something to do with that.

There was another pair of shoes by the door, red and white and black that would have looked oddly reminiscent of vintage rain boots if they hadn't looked to be made snug. The bed was made, but barely. The covers thrown over in a half-assed attempt at a made bed, but it was made nonetheless. There was a jacket along the back of the chair at the desk, a little bobble-headed astronaut one of the few things of personalization.

Keith steps up to him, filling up space in his line of sight and takes the bag from him, letting it down by the door and he seemed to wait for Lance to do something. Except Lance couldn't do anything. His brain running on short circuits of energy from the entire exchange.

"Thank you," Keith said once again and it jolted Lance mentally back into his body. Keith wasn't slamming the door in his face, wasn't rudely pushing him out into the hall. His brain screamed at him, abort, abort! before be did something stupid and he shook himself mentally and plastered his best smooth grin in place, one he usually used on the ladies, and he couldn't think of a reason not to.

"Of course, but I'm still going to kick your ass tomorrow on the simulator!" Lance lifts his chin a little higher, spinning on his heel to swagger away. He could hear the tail end of a giggle but he doesn't dare look back, feeling his face heating all the way up to the tips of his ears.

All night, all Lance could think of was what had transpired between them. He groans and hugs his pillow, disturbing Hunk for the millionth time from the recipes he was looking at.

"Something wrong? This is like the tenth time you've groaned." He finally asks instead of giving questioning looks. "You're not usually this quiet about it, either, so what's eating you? Is it a girl?"

Lance blushes red and sits up from his lying position, "it's not a girl!" He nearly yells. Hunk seemed confused.

"If it's not a girl, why are you blushing..?" He asks, tone slipping into something teasing. Lance groaned again and flopped back onto his back.

"It's Keith..." he confesses, then shoots back up to sit. "Not that way!" He quickly says to dissuade any potential thoughts. "It's just... he seems so.. different, lately. Doesn't he?" Hunk shrugs, giving him a look like Lance would know better than he does. "I can't put my finger on it, but I feel like I've falling into a parallel universe. You'd tell me if that happened, right?"

Hunk rolls his eyes. "I'm sure you're exaggerating."

"I'm not!" Lance huffs, pouting. "Did you know, today, we actually spoke to each other? He didn't glare or growl at me! He didn't ignore me, he even—" Lance pauses, seeing the sly grin Hunk was sporting and his cheeks redden further. "Shut up, Hunk!" Hunk said nothing, only continued to grin as if to say, bruh, you sure this so-called rivalry thing isn't just a cover-up for your crush on him?

Lance got the message anyway and he pouts.

"But seriously, you know how he is! And he just— seems different. It's infuriating because he still gets the highest marks and does the best flights! And he isn't even on top of his game!"

"Just talk to him; you said he's been nicer recently, right?"

Lance groaned, falling back and smothering the pillow on this face to extricate himself from the issue at hand.

Lance had always thought he would take joy in Keith's blunders. Rumors seemed to spread quickly among the students.

Lance had been floored by what he bore witness to. Keith's insubordination to the teachers wasn't a surprise or even out of the ordinary. What was, however, was the comeback Keith had given to Iverson.

Oh man, he wished Hunk he was there to have seen Iverson's face when Keith called him a bitch-ass. Iverson's face looked like a thermometer, the red starting from under the collar of his neck and rising to the tips of his ears and into his hairline before he blew up. Keith didn't even look properly chastised as Iverson yelled, many students either scared shitless of the magnitude of his screeching or impressed by the size of Kogane's balls. He still felt tickled pink, hours later at the end of the day as he practically skipped down the hall to where he had heard Keith's punishment was being dished out.

Lance had been in a good mood because of it all day, not even disheartened when a girl he had tried to flirt with completely ignored him. It fell like water off a duck's back and he honestly felt in the mood for some gloating and teasing.

Lance saunters into the simulator room casually, hearing the grumble of a certain student inside through the open simulator door. He watches Keith raise his head too soon and hit his head under the control panel with barely subdued glee.

"Sup, Mullet?" Lance said, his voice laced with a victory that tasted so sweet and he leaned against the wall.

"What does it look like, genius?" Keith quipped back, a familiar kind of agitation making itself known in his tone and Lance, for a second, internally deflated. "You were in class." He says again before ducking back under the console, scrubbing furiously at something Lance didn't bother trying to see.

"Mmm yeah, I just wanna gloat." Lance hums, watching Keith with a focus he usually doesn't have for anything else before he starts to step in, shoes squeaking against the soapy wet floor. It alarmed Keith out of his hiding place and he hit his head yet a second time on the way out.

"Lance…" Keith's voice held warning as he looked at the track marks Lance's shoes no doubt made. Lance's shoes were clean! He was a very clean person, okay? He just had a hard time organizing.

"What are you even cleaning down there? It's not like Iverson is gonna check." Lance said instead.

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

Seriously?

"Just leave it?" Lance shrugged for good measure. Why would Iverson care for a tiny speck on the floor where no one even looks at? Keith looks at him exasperatedly, like he wanted to heave a huge sigh.

"The stain is bothering me. It's annoying and it won't come out… And get out, you're tracking dirt!" Keith gets to his feet in a matter of seconds, rising to his full height which wasn't even taller than Lance. Lance side-steps as Keith tried to push him out of the simulator. "Lance!" Man, this was fun.

Lance thought he was all that and a bag of sweet, sweet potato chips. His grin was cocky and playful and just as he jumps back to avoid another lung from Keith, he slips on the soapy floor Keith had scrubbed clean. At first he was falling back, but then he overcompensated by throwing his torso forward and it made him collide with Keith, flailing around as he knocked Keith backwards.

On their own, his arms wrapped around Keith; one at his waist and the other cushioning his head. He might be an idiot but he has got to thank his reflexes. He wouldn't know what to do with himself if he had accidentally incapacitated the best fighter pilot in the entire Garrison.

"Fuck!" Lance hisses, feeling his elbow smack onto the ground under Keith. It was just his luck, then, that Hunk pops in. No doubt wondering where his best friend ran off to. Why did he always get found in compromising positions when the situation itself was not compromisable?

"Lance! Hey Lance, where— oh. Sorry. I can see you're busy sooooo," Hunk is at the entrance, face going through a series of expressions that Lance could make out. Shock, surprise, then sly. Lance scrambles to get himself untangled from Keith but it was proving to be difficult with his track record of being clumsy when it mattered. He managed to get an arm out from under Keith while the other was still under, and as he tried to lift himself up, the arm only snagged him back down.

"Hunk! This is not what it looks like—" Lance starts, even though he's starting to blush and Keith arching up into his chest, even if only to give Lance the ability to take back his arm, was sending all the wrong signals in his head.

"No, no. I totally get it." Hunk says, and Lance could hear the smugness and the I told you sooo in his tone of voice. Lance feels his face start to burn. God, how much more of an idiot could be make himself be in front of his crush— not crush! Rival! "But uh, Iverson is coming…"

"What!" Lance squawks, blood like ice in his veins even as his face still burns and he scrambles up, unaware his and Keith's legs were still tangled and yet again he toppled over his crush rather stupidly— rival! His rival.

Damn the soap, damn the stupid sentence, and damn Lance himself for coming here to gloat!

Lance's arms landed on either side of Keith's head. He looked so ridiculous, with his hair wet and soapy from the floor, dark hair splayed out like ink dipped in water. And somehow Keith's face got closer and Lance realizes it's because his hands couldn't grip the floor well enough to keep them from sliding.

Lance swore he stopped breathing. The scene was definitely something straight out of a rom-com and this was the part that they kissed and confessed their love—

"McClain! Kogane! What is the meaning of this tomfoolery?!"

Lance could only scramble up a few inches, to give them some breathing room as he tried to defend his honor.

"It's Keith's fault!"

"It is not!"

Iverson looked to be completely done with their shit. He didn't care what they were up to, he didn't care about what it was that they were really doing, and he would like to keep it that way. "Enough! McClain, you can join Kogane in making sure this ship is spotless, since you're so eager." He says, pivoting on his heel to get the hell out of there.

This time, Lance crawled off to the side, having learned from the first three attempts. "It's your fault." Lance accuses weakly, pouting and checking out his wet and soapy uniform.

"Is not. It's what you get for coming here to gloat." Keith snorts a laugh as he sits up and shakes his head. His easy laugh was what got his attention, but then he's stuttering incoherently before he breaks into wheezing laughter. "What?"

"God, your head looks ridiculous." Lance held his stomach, unable to keep himself upright in the midst of seeing Keith's hair, as luxurious and inky as it looked spread out on the floor, looked like the largest cow lick on God's green earth. It was like Appa had licked him!

"Shut up or I'll dump the entire bucket of water on you." Keith threatens and Lance hears the truth behind his words and he pauses monetarily, looking up at Keith to see him taking the few steps to his abandoned bucket. Lance couldn't help but spare a glance up at his hair before breaking down in laughter.

It was short-lived, however, as he gets a face full of sponge and he spits and sputters, making a face at the soap that had managed to get past his lips.

"The hell?!" Lance glares up at Keith but for a second before it drops into nervousness. Keith was really ready to dump that whole thing on him! Now, the question became was he willing to ruin his clothes? "Keith, uhh… Buddy, y-you're not really gonna dump that all over me… are you?" Lance gulps, crossing his fingers he'd get out of this as dry as he could.

"Depends… Are you gonna keep laughing at my hair?" Lance couldn't help it— he couldn't! His eyes automatically flick up to the monstrosity that was Keith's hair, currently, and before he could successfully suppress his amusement, Keith was hurling the water in the bucket at him and Lance screeches— he may or may not have sounded like a banshee was attacking him.

Keith is laughing, the empty bucket now dropped in favor of hugging his stomach while the other covered his mouth.

Wow, he's so beautiful, Lance thought after catching him with his guard down. So open, so vulnerable. It was like catching a glimpse of the sun in the morning light. How it wasn't so overly bright that you couldn't look at it, but it lit up everything around it. Belatedly, Lance thought he could stay in this moment forever and he wouldn't care one bit that the industrial soap was drying out his skin as he sat, soaked and in a puddle of said water.

He'd stay drenched forever if it meant watching the way all the rough edges on Keith's face melt away. The way he covered his mouth like he was shy about his smile— pearly whites with canines that seemed just a tad too sharp to be normal, not that Lance cared. The way his eyes crinkled and a little dimple made its marginal appearance on his left cheek, he wondered if Keith was even aware he only had one— one that normally wouldn't even show.

It was that moment, then, that Lance accepts that his rival was his crush.

Not that he would ever, ever, admit it out loud.

Lance was no longer shy about getting Keith's attention. He had plenty reasons, but one of the biggests ones was that he just could. Keith didn't ignore him, no matter how inane what he was called for was.

Lance was even proud to say he even got them detention together. Not one of his prouder moments, but whatever. It didn't matter because he was with Keith, but he couldn't really fathom Keith feeling the same way. Detention was always a drag, even if it was writing one stupid little paragraph and then waiting out the rest of the sentence in silence.

What Lance really liked, though, were the moments when Lance was at his lowest, normally after crashing the simulator, and Keith would touch him. It wasn't obvious or brash, but hooking his fingers around his wrist in comfort, or leaning in so close that Lance felt the chill of his being next to him. Even after blaming every single thing that had gone wrong on Keith, Keith would smile and tell him he was a great pilot. Not good, or subpar, but great.

The belief Keith had in him despite failure after failure in the simulator. His belief that Lance was a great pilot despite having no evidence to the contrary.

But this belief made Lance feel funny things in his bones. It made him giddy, and it made him scared. He couldn't possibly think Keith has feelings for him; he could have anyone on this campus, he wouldn't want Lance. So Lance started flirting more, going out more, being reckless with his love and he doesn't notice the bad luck these people who left him heartbroken seem to get.

Despite Lance telling himself he wasn't allowed to get attached, he couldn't seem to stop himself. Keith's head was right there and his fingers itched to touch his hair. And so one day, he does. The raven locks slip through his fingers like ink; soft and silky and thick in his grasp.

The first time he'd given into impulsion Keith twitched, surprised, but then a second later he was relaxing, tilting his head back so that his head rested heavier on Lance's palm.

Now it was just a habit that Lance wished Keith wouldn't have given him that inch because now he couldn't stop. It happened nearly every class, every day. He flitted through the clean locks, smelling oddly better than the Garrison issued products even though he knows that's all Keith uses.

"Dude, you've got white hair already." Lance picks up the strands he sees. It wasn't even paint, it was plain white, like snow, and it stood out starkly against the black of the rest of his hair, undoing tangles with his nails because Keith gave him too much trust and Lance couldn't trust himself not to overstep even though he can't stop himself. Just something about being so close to Keith, just something about touching him innocently, made him calmed.

"Do I? I haven't noticed." Man, what a lie that was. How could Keith not have noticed? Even if there aren't that many, does Keith even bother to look in the mirror?

"Yeah, they're not greying either. They're like, bleached white." He decides to inform Keith, holding out the strands he picked out for him to inspect. Keith leans his head back further, staring at the strands and nearly going cross-eyed before he shrugs and lets them fall.

"Must be genetic."

Lance hums in agreement, even though he has never heard of anyone getting white hairs at a young age by genetics.

Lance doesn't even notice the looks he gets from the rest of the students, being so enthralled by his hair. And had he noticed, he wouldn't have cared. For the last ten minutes of class free-time, Lance wraps the hair around his fingers and pushes it around on his scalp, entertaining himself until the bell rang. And when it did, he usually got a nudge from Hunk and he regretfully slipped his fingers out of those tresses.

Despite what people may think of him and how he carries himself, Lance was actually a pretty smart and perceptive dude.

So when he noticed Keith zoning out more than what he expected of him, he started wondering what was up with him. Usually, when Lance glares at him (at least recently), Keith would be able to feel it and he'd meet his eyes and offer one of three expressions: a small candid smile, a roll of his eyes, or a look that was thoroughly unimpressed, depending on what the situation was. Keith had never not noticed his glaring and proceed to react to it.

But the second that Keith stepped out from that simulator with the claps of accomplishment from the rest of the class for a job well done, Lance's heated gaze was on him, and he didn't look up or acknowledge Lance or those shooting him a congrats or looks of envy, Lance knew something was off. It happened a few more times, usually during the simulator runs, where he would stare out into space, eyes glossed over. Sometimes he would stare at the simulator with this odd look on his face the few times Lance had caught him alone, something along the lines of longing and… he couldn't put a name to it.

Hunk may think he was just being weird, or homesick, if someone like Keith ever even got homesick. But Lance knew better.

And his sleuthing was definitely not because he was concerned about his crush, okay?

Keith was pretty easy to follow around, this past week alone he didn't even seem attuned to Lance's presence when he could usually hone in on him before Lance could even get into his periphery. This guy's got some mad senses, Hunk would say.

And yeah, maybe Lance is a little bit conceited, thinking Keith would always pay attention to him and now that he's not, he's maybe just a teeny tiny bit worried someone else may have his attention even though there is zero evidence for that. The only people Keith actually deigns to talk to are Hunk and Lance whenever Lance decides to get into Keith's bubble, after all.

"Hunk, come on, we have to find out what's wrong with him." Lance says heatedly, pressing against the wall and peeking around the hallway— as if Keith would even turn around and spot them spying on him in the weird state he seemed to be in lately. "He's acting weird."

"Why do you even care?" Hunk stage-whispered, standing like a normal person behind him, maybe just in a tiny sleuthing position, glancing around at the nonexistent students milling around on a Saturday. Keith was standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows in one of the student lounges, one of the few the Garrison had.

"Because," Lance hisses back, feeling his cheeks heat and the lie is tumbling out of his mouth before he even has to think about it, used to defending himself against implications. "If my rival isn't at his top best, how can I feel good when I defeat him?"

Lance watches Keith settle down in one of the lounge chairs, eyes narrowed as if Keith was doing something offensive, rather than just watching one of those rare Arizona days where rain pours.

"Then why don't you go talk to him?" Hunk asks, and Lance could hear the exasperation in his voice, even without Hunk using it. Lance sputters as loudly as he dares, pulling back from the corner.

"I will not let him think I'm worried."

"But.. you are?" Hunk raises a brow, either honestly not understanding Lance's flawed (engenius!) logic, or just to make Lance's life that much harder. So Lance just glares until he thinks Hunk gets the point and shushes him, smooshing himself back against the wall and peeking out from the corner.

In the time that they squabbled, Keith had slipped off his shoes to bring his feet up onto the plush chair, arms hugging criss-cross across his body. Lance watches Keith watch the rain, eye and brow twitching marginally at the clap of lightning in the distance. He watches as Keith hugs himself a little tighter, a barely there tremor starting up in his body.

The Garrison was air-conditioning controlled. It was never too hot, sometimes too cold, but most of the time it was a nice seventy seven farenheit all day, everyday. Like right now, it was pretty warm so Lance couldn't think of a reason Keith was shivering. If anything, he knew Keith ran cool, so this should have been too hot for him.

Lance didn't know how long he'd been watching Keith nor did he really care. It was really funny that he could focus on the most inane things but not on school work. He was so focused on Keith that the next clap of thunder and lightning caught him off guard. It was too close for comfort, right in front of the large paneled windows. The light illuminated everything in sight, almost blinding.

Keith had a worse reaction than just a small jump, like Lance had. Lance watches him jerk backwards with such force that it had the chair flipping backwards. He manages to get to his feet by rolling back onto them, his back crashing into the wall with a loud thumb. His hand gripped tightly at his uniform, the buttons looking dangerously close to being ripped off by his grip. His breath was short and hard, panting as if he'd run a mile.

Lance glances at Hunk, unsure of his next move. It wasn't like he could go and comfort him, is there? That'd be like outing himself as a stalker (which he totally wasn't).

It was only when Lance looked back around the corner, seeing Keith curled up in a tight ball, those fingers that gripped his uniform now gripping his hair, pulling at the clumps of hair he held in each hand, that Lance sprang into action. He tripped over his own feet as he rounded the corner, dropping to his knees with a thud against the tile floor.

"Keith, Keith, Buddy," Lance tries, keeping his voice calm even though he feels anything but. He's seen a few people have anxiety bursts and he's never really been good at handling them. Keith's hands under his are ice cold, a weird static feel to them. Eyes screwed shut and jaw clenched like he was gritting his teeth, Keith sucks in a breath as he opens his eyes. His eyes flash just as another lightning strikes across the sky.

"Lance…?" Lance nods, uncurling Keith's death grip from his head and hair, wincing as he finds a bit of blood on the nails from digging into his scalp too hard. They're trembling as Lance slips his hands from his hair.

"What are you doing out here watching a rainstorm if you're afraid of lightning?"

As if on cue, another flash goes across the sky, followed by booming thunder, and Keith flinches away, "I'm not scared…" he denies even as he makes himself smaller and Lance feels protectiveness surge through him and he makes himself bigger to block out the light, or at least he tries. Lance knows, realistically, he was a pretty scrawny dude (for now), and it would be hard to block out everything. Good thing he had Hunk there. Lance opens his mouth, about to retort.

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

Lance waits with bated breath, unsure of whether he should pray Keith declines or accepts. Keith stares up at him, unseeing at first as he blinks those big eyes of his. The chuckle that made its way from his lips was small and strained, and it didn't feel right coming from Keith's lips.

"Sure, Hunk. That sounds good." Keith uncurls himself from his vulnerable position, Lance ready to catch him should his legs give out. They don't, and he makes his way back to the overturned chair for his shoes. Lance takes this small reprieve from Keith to finally catch up with what happened and he grabs Hunk by the collar, tugging him down and trying and possibly failing at keeping his voice normal, feeling his face flush.

"Dude!"

"What?"

"Dude!" Lance can only repeat himself, his own brain not providing any helpful argument for or against this ordeal. It just gave a litany of Keith is coming over, Keith is coming over, Keith is coming over! and his heart unhelpfully pounded against his chest.

"Oh, come on. Lance. Stop it. He obviously needs company. Stop acting shy because your crush is visiting your room." And oh god, Lance knew Hunk had a mean streak, with how he grinned slyly and wiggled his eyebrows. He knows! And of course he knew, he's Hunk. Hunk always knows what's up. Lance could only blush harder at the implications, finding it hard to breathe with the truth thrown in his face. Before Lance could come up with a remark, probably along the lines of how that was completely untrue Hunk, what would even give you that impression? Keith's footsteps were coming closer. "Ready?" Hunk grins, and Lance feels offended that Hunk will go as far as to ignore a friend in distress. His best friend, no less.

With an arm around Keith's tiny shoulders— seriously, this guy was pretty tiny. Even Lance, lanky as he was, had pretty wide shoulders if he thought about it. Anyway, Hunk leads him away, leaving a begrudging Lance to grumble to himself and follow along, knowing, just knowing, that Hunk will take all the miles tonight and Lance would be able to do nothing but take the (possibly) self-imposed embarrassment Hunk has set up for him.

Lance had been the first to steal away for a quick ten-minute shower and into proper clothes, Hunk already in pajamas. Keith was sitting on the edge of his bed, idly looking around and Lance grabs the laptop to set up the movie.

Of course, he should have known Hunk wouldn't let it rest at just a movie.

"Keith, did you want to change? We can lend you some clothes."

Lance's head nearly bursts. He's smart enough to figure out most of Hunk's clothes are out of the question (even if Keith would look flapjacking cute in oversized clothing. Even if Keith would look adorable in yellow) and so that would mean that Keith would need to wear Lance's clothes. Hence his brain stalling to a harsh halt.

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

"Nah, it's on the other dormitory across campus, right? It's pretty far and you must be tired." Lance's ears start to burn before Hunk even suggests the next thing. "Actually, you should sleep over, too."

"I… Are we even allowed to?"

"Uhh, it doesn't matter?" Lance wanted to scream. Figures the one time Hunk didn't care about breaking the rules, it would involve using it against Lance. That devil! "Lance, have any clothes Keith can borrow?" Lance ignored the teasing in his voice.

"Uhh, nope, no. I guess we can't have a sleepover." It was a lame shot in the dark, Lance knows. He doesn't have a truly valid excuse for not wanting a sleep over. He feels the disappointment oozing from Hunk.

"He'll just borrow my clothes, then. That okay?" Lance glances up to see Keith smile.

"Yeah, thanks."

After Keith had been given Hunk's sweater, Lance had been forced to surrender a pair of sweats for obvious reasons (one of the reasons would be that if Lance didn't give up his sweats that would mean Keith would be walking around in just an oversized sweater, and Lance would have a heart attack. And he should really stop thinking about that— LALALA).

Currently, the object of his infatuation was in their shower, soaping himself up with Lance's products, because Hunk took the extra step to tell Keith to use specific products and Lance didn't know how much more he could take.

"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 this was not good for his heart, Hunk!

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. Lance's eyes dart to the closed door of the bathroom, feeling like he was about to face a boss in a battle.

"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.

God, who made this guy? Lance internally whines. How does someone look so disheveled and so perfect at the same time? Hunk's sweater reached nearly to his knees and it slid off to show off a pale shoulder, the bones sharp in contrast to the soft skin he no doubt has thanks to Lance's products. His hair was damp, curling just a little where it clung to his cheeks and nape of his neck like some dang siren calling him to sea.

Keith sets his stack of neatly folded clothes where Hunk indicates before being herded to sit on Lance's left on the bed and Lance had to bodily stop himself from screaming.

Throughout the movie, Lance hadn't been paying attention to Keith all that much. Why would he? They would all have their eyes glued to the screen, occasionally munching on popcorn or sipping their hot chocolates.

It wasn't until he felt a weight on his side that he finally glanced to the side; was it intentional? He gulps, feeling Keith's weight settle heavier on his side and he knows from experience that he's either asleep, or close to it. So, he chances a glance down and sees Keith's face relax as he dances the lines of sleep.

Hunk takes notice of where he looks and leans to see himself and he coos. Lance's cheeks heat and he hushes him. As carefully as he could, Lance moves his arm from being ambushed between himself and Keith's body, and wraps them around those slim shoulders.

"Oh my god," Hunk whispers, snickering. Lance's face heats further.

"Shut it, Hunk," Lance hisses back. "He's sleeping!" Hunk snickers but doesn't say anything more, and Lance thanks whatever god is out there for that. His body that was tense from the possible rebuttal he might've gotten had Keith been awake, was now relaxing with every breath he felt Keith take.

Lance tenses again when Keith, in his sleep, moves to nudge his face into the crook of his neck, cold nose making him shiver as it touched his heated skin. His arms thrown over Lance's waist like he was hugging a pillow in his sleep (which was a thought for another day).

"Oh my god," Hunk coos again, this time covering his mouth from squealing at the affection sleeping Keith showed and Lance pouted, though his cheeks were still warm.

"Hunk, please," He whispers, although his heart, too, clenched with how adorable Keith really was.

"How can you even think he doesn't like you?" Hunk asks, although this time it was asked benevolently. Lance's pout got bigger and he tears his eyes awake from Keith.

"He's just sleeping, it doesn't mean anything.." Lance said it to Hunk as much as he said it to himself, his heart breaking just a little bit at how true he thought that was.

"What should we watch next?" Lance asked, surprising a sigh. He feels more than hears Keith him against his neck, and he goes rigid when he hears his voice speak,

"Treasure Planet.."

"U-uh, s-sure, okay," Lance chuckles nervously, waiting for Keith to realize their position and lop his head off, moving a tiny bit to redo the disk.

Keith didn't, in fact, wake up to yell at Lance for their position. He made himself comfortable once Lance settled, and then his weight got heavier until Lance could hear and feel the deep, even breaths coming from him, indicating he had really fallen asleep.

Hunk is grinning besides him, self satisfied but doesn't deign to gloat about it at this gentle moment. Lance couldn't help but steal glances down at Keith every once in a while throughout the movie, distracted by his presence and the urge to just watch him (totally creepy, but whatever!).

He and Hunk watch another movie before deciding it was too late to start another, both already trying to keep their eyes open. Hunk takes the laptop from him and cleans up their mess, leaving Lance with a knocked-out Keith to take care of.

It was obvious Keith had to share Lance's bed, unless Lance wanted to resign it and sleep on the floor.

And Lance could admit he was a bit of a prince, and he wasn't about to give up his bed just because he had to share with his crush.

So the question of the early morning was, how was he going to move them without waking Keith up? It wasn't like he knew if Keith was a heavy sleeper or not, so he couldn't just flip them over to have Keith between him and the wall. And any move he made would cause Keith to fall and possible wake up and possibly decide this wasn't a brilliant idea and then he'd leave back to his own dorm and his bed would be cold.

Keith's body was nice and chilled, keeping a good equilibrium with Lance's own body heat, but that was besides the point.

Lance took a steadying breath and hugged Keith's body to him, Keith's head lolling on his shoulder with just how deep he was in sleep. So far, so good. Cradling his head, Lance lay down, and then turns to his side, Keith being on the outside of the bed, since that would be the easiest.

Keith's breath fanned against him, a sigh once he'd been moved into a comfier position. Lance regretfully, but carefully, extracted his arms from under Keith. Even if he wanted to keep it there, he knew how numb it would be in the morning, let alone how Keith would react if he woke up earlier than him, which was a high probability.

Giving into temptation, Lance pushed back some of the bangs on his face behind his ear, breath caught against the ethereal look Keith had about him, especially like this: face relaxed in his sleep, no furrow in his brow or a clench in his jaw, no faraway look. The way his long lashes fanned the edge of his high cheekbones; Lance swears even some of his lashes are turning white.

He'd look good with white hair, Lance admits to himself, imagining Keith with a whole head of shocking white, but a youthful face, smiling at him. He'd look good in a lot of things. And it was only because it was nighttime and he was already on the brink of sleep, that he let himself think such thoughts without the intention of reprimanding his mind for their treachery because that would never happen.

Lance tried keeping his eyes open as long as he could, staying in that space with Keith next to him, oddly chilly but pleasant, asleep and vulnerable next to him. Lance drifted to sleep between one thought and the next, an ineffable weight on his heart that was both too light and too heavy.

"Took you long enough." Lance huffs out in fake upset, Hunk rolling his eyes next to him that he pointedly ignored, just like the pink he was sure Hunk could spot a mile away exposing just how nervous and excited he was.

Keith rolls his eyes, too, and Lance thinks Keith could see through all his bullshit.

"Sorry," he apologizes anyway, because he was nice to him now. "I lost track of time." Lance huffs once again for dramatism, folding his arms as he stares at Keith, at his casual clothes.

The black, he had already figured Keith would wear. Keith didn't really scream fashion designer. The shoes he had already seen the scant few times he visited Keith's dorm, especially that first time, one of the few personal effects in his room.

Now, however, he was staring at that silly crop-top jacket and the simple belt he wore over his shirt.

If this were anyone else, he would be talking to Hunk about the lack of fashion sense the person had. Who wore a crop-top jacket and their belt over their shirt? Keith did. On him, though, it actually looked kind of put together. The red on his shoes matched the red of his jacket and Lance wondered if he got it as a pair or if it was dumb luck he found something in the same shade.

Hunk clears his throat next to him and Lance startles, clearing his own throat as he glances at Keith's face, who seemed to be waiting.

"R-right." Lance clears his throat again and turns tail, leading to the shuttle and expecting them to follow. By the crunch of their shoes on some rocks along the path outside of the Garrison, he was glad he didn't have to come back to get them, illuminated by his own embarrassment at staring for so long at Keith.

"Where are we going?" Keith asks, looking around the shuttle stop and the advertisement along the wall.

"There's this diner halfway to Plaht city," Hunk replied for him and he was just a tad bit grateful, because he was just too distracted by how Keith's hair wisped around gently with a passing breeze. "They have the best waffles. Not better than mine, of course," he says, and Keith chuckles, turning his attention to Hunk as he spoke. "But I doubt the Garrison would let me take over the kitchen to cook for you."

"Yeah." Keith answers, a gentle smile on his face, like remembering something pleasant but painful at the same time. "I'm sure you'll show me someday. If you can make water-based hot-chocolate packets taste that good, I'm sure anything you make will be lost on us pleabs."

Lance's brain stalled, and apparently, so did Hunk's, for just a moment. Did he just… make a joke? Hunk laughs, surprised and giddy. Keith's smile was something precious, like he held back from laughing too.

Lance didn't know why he thought this was a good idea. Why the day before he walked Keith to his dorm room close to lights out, pretending it was Keith who had insisted to be walked to his room, and then proceeded to make a fool of himself by stuttering out how he and Hunk were going out the next afternoon and he should come— if he wanted too. Obviously, he would want too.

Psh, you should have just asked if you wanted to come. I'm sure Hunk won't mind, he said after Keith, that unsubtle, straight-forward, infuriatingly adorable guy, asked him if Lance was asking if he wanted to come along. Of course Lance just couldn't ask outright, what if Keith just shrugs him off? That was still a viable and justifiable fear he had.

But it seems like anytime Lance has the chance to interact with Keith in a setting that didn't involve the classroom or simulator, he was digging his own grave. His heart both sang, soared, and dropped whenever he got the chance to see Keith with his apathy dropped, his aloofness became focus. A focus he then put on Hunk and himself, whoever he was speaking to.

When his eyes narrowed in amusement, clutching his stomach at a joke Hunk made. That one little dimple in his left cheek catching Lance's eye every time.

Lance was digging his grave deeper a little bit every, single, time, that he allowed and craved such interactions.

Lance was falling a little more in love with in every time. And he wondered if Hunk knew that he was doing it and let it happen.

"You need to try the chicken and waffles, seriously." Hunk says, face in his own menu as he studiously scanned the page.

"Is that what you're getting?" Keith asks as he leans his menu down to look at both of them over the top.

"Of course. It's tradition." Lance says, lifting his chin as if Keith was supposed to just get it. Keith's lips quirk in a pull of a smile.

"Chicken and waffles it is, then."

The waiting for the food was almost excruciating. Lance typically fills the silence, if they weren't watching a movie of some sort. But for some strange reason, he was nervous, and it was Hunk who saved him from the awkward silence that could possibly ensue after the waitress took their order and their menus away.

The black made him look slimmer, his mind helpfully supplies as he puts in a few comments about whatever Hunk was excitedly talking about. Their drinks come first; chocolate-mint something flurry for Lance, peanut butter chocolate flurry for Hunk, and diner coffee and water for Keith, oddly enough.

It wasn't until the food came that Keith had watched Lance intently. He had a look of complete bewilderment and possible disgust as he Lance drizzles maple syrup over his chicken fingers.

"What?" He asks defensively. Speechless, Keith makes a face Lance couldn't really put a name to.

"You add syrup to your chicken?" Lance huffs and ignores him as he stabs a chicken finger with his fork and dips it into the ranch by his plate and Keith's face would be hilarious had Lance not been gearing up to defend his taste buds.

"Hey! Don't knock it 'till you try it." He kind of waves his chicken at Keith, who only made a grimace.

"No, thank you." He says, pouring syrup over his waffles enough to drown out however the waffles probably taste like. "But I do want to try your shake." Lance pauses at that.

"Only if I can try your coffee." It was almost a little pathetic that all Lance could think about was the indirect kiss. Keith snorts in amusement, sliding it over.

"Knock yourself out. I'm pretty sure half the cup is sugar by now." Lance glances at the multiple packets of sugar: Cane Sugar, Sweet 'n Low, RAW Sugar, piled messily in the tiny saucer that came with the cup. "It never gets any sweeter." He helpfully supplied as Lance slid the cup his way, Keith taking the small, long spoon from his flurry to scoop the contents, flipping the spoon to lay on his tongue and closes his mouth. His eyes widen a bit, surprise flitting across his face. "It's good."

"Of course it is." Lance playfully scoffs. "I have amazing taste buds." He finished off that thought with a sip of Keith's cup, subconsciously sipping from the same side Keith was. He nearly gags. "Oh my god! That's disgusting!" Lance coughed from the barrage of too sweet but entirely bitter coffee on his taste buds. Keith laughs at his misery, of course, and at him trying to wipe his tongue on a napkin to get rid of the taste, before scooping up a spoonful of his flurry and holding it out for Lance. Lance was too distracted when he took it gratefully, to notice that Keith was essentially feeding him. When his brain finally caught up with himself, he takes the spoon back. "How can you even stand that?"

"I honestly have no idea. But as you can see, I have barely drunk it." He says, glancing at his cup and moves it back, picking it up with both hands and tipping it just slightly to taste, and grimaces, sticking his tongue out in distaste.

Lance laughs, because he could.

It wasn't until the third time Lance and Hunk dragged Keith out to the diner that Lance mustered up the courage to sit by Keith, at Hunk's insistence the night before.

Why don't you sit by him? He's probably lonely. I mean you did ask him to come.

At the diner, Keith slides into the booth he usually does, the left one. Hunk slides in across from him before Lance can cower and take his window seat, effectively cutting off Lance's one reprieve. Traitor!

It forced him to be brave, though, as inconsequential as his move was to someone else. Lance slid into the booth next to Keith, who seemed surprised but he smiles nonetheless. Lance was sure everyone around could hear the harsh, nervous beating of his heart against his ribs and see the light flush on his skin, but no one commented, not even Hunk, who was giving him an encouraging smile before slipping into easy conversation.

Lance appreciated Hunk was giving him space to bring himself back together, even if he was the one that put him in this position in the first place.

It wasn't until the food came that Lance thought he had gotten a hold of himself enough to be the center of attention again— Keith's attention, even as the boy drowns his stack of chocolate chip pancakes in more syrup than the fluffy pancakes could soak up.

"I like my sweets as much as the next guy, but how can you even stand that much syrup?" Lance huffs, now the one to stare in bogglement at Keith for the nth time in a row.

"It tastes good." Keith shrugs, and that somehow made Lance annoyed. He was supposed to give more.

"And how can someone that eats so much sweets be a fricken stick?" He asks, poking Keith in the ribs. Keith tenses and jerks his body away from the offending poke, too quick and jagged to have been only offended.

"How can you?" He challenges back, seeming a bit flustered and as realization dawns on Lance, his grin becomes sly and mischievous. "W-what?"

Lance raises his hands, fingers wiggling threateningly. "Keith, you wouldn't happen to be… ticklish now, would you?" Keith's eyes widen and he gapes, and then tries scooting back but he was already backed up against the window of the booth and god, he was so glad Hunk made him sit here now.

"Lance," Keith said, defensive, nearly hissing. "Don't. You. Dare." He hugs his stomach, but those thin arms aren't nearly enough to cover from Lance's long, nimble fingers.

Keith's breath caught as Lance lunged the sparse space between them, digging his fingers lightly into the space at his uncovered side before the shrieking laughter began. It was kind of shrill and loud, but it sounded beautiful to Lance's ear as it tapered off to gleeful laughter as he kept tickling. The way he begged, Lance! No, stop! And the way Keith's hands attempted to cover Lance's to physically stop him from the torment, but were too weak from the tickling. The way he pushed and squirmed back into his corner more with Lance following.

Lance was sure they were causing a ruckus, and everyone was looking their way and giving them either snide looks or cooing about the flirtation. Lance only paused when Keith seemed out of breath, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

Keith's laughter tapers off once Lance stills his fingers, laying still at his sides, sliding further down unconsciously to the dip of his waist. He hadn't even realized how close he had gotten. There was barely ten inches between them. In his squirming, Keith's legs had lain themselves across Lance's lap. Even as the silence followed, Keith met his eye, and Lance was so starstruck by the vulnerability he saw in Keith— open, loving, splaying himself wide open for Lance to see as if he had already deemed Lance trustworthy enough to see the authentic him.

In turn, Lance felt himself be barred for him to see— insecure, feeling unworthy of such a privilege. Keith's smile, like the sun heating his skin at Varadero Beach. His heart felt empty and too full all at once. This visceral feeling of belonging and love. He didn't know how Keith could stand to feel this way— in front of him, no less. A complete one eighty from the boy Lance had known since the day he seemed like a stranger in his own skin.

Lance was sure it was him leaning forward minisculely, near inches away from kissing the boy of his dreams like his heart wasn't in his throat. Keith's eyes played tricks, irises a dark midnight blue, flashing liquid gold, smoldering like embers.

It was Hunk, who sitting across the way and eating his flurry bite after bite like it was popcorn, that watched them intently. From the beginning, Lance was pretty obvious about his crush (it's not a crush, Hunk!). And so, graciously, Hunk had been giving him every opportunity to get closer to Keith, realize what an idiot he was being, and grow the balls needed to ask him out on a date.

This was all, of course, a part of his master plan.

The plan to match-make them together, of course.

Hunk knew Keith had an interest in Lance, it was pretty obvious to him. The way he looked at Lance, the light and tender touches he would give. He didn't give Hunk the same amount of tender touches to him, that's for sure, although he was still friendly and open to Hunk's rambunctious hugs. Hunk thinks the only person who doesn't think Keith would like him back is Lance.

Being the big genius that he is, Hunk had put some seeds of opportunity Lance should take. Hunk having his own booth was just an added plus. Sure, he did this to force Lance's hand and smiled coyly as he didn't scoot over, taking up space on the booth.

All throughout, Hunk watched them, enamoured with their interactions, and didn't mind at all being the third-wheel. Especially when he got a front row seat to Lance finally making his move, even if it was unintentional.

Hunk was, of course, Lance's biggest supporter in love (only when he knows, instinctively, that the person is right for Lance). So when Lance moved indefinitely closer to Keith, who was scrunched up against the corner with his hands over Lance's, squirming and laughing and giggling like he couldn't stop, Hunk couldn't help it when his mind started to sing:

Sha la la la la la, don't be scared, you got the mood prepared, go on and kiss the boy~

Keith's laughter tapering off as Lance stops his assault, pressed so intimately close together. Hunk sees the imperceptible bob of Lance's Adam's apple and how he moves just infinitesimally closer.

Sha la la la la la, don't stop now, don't try to hide it how, you wanna kiss the boy~

Lance might not have caught Keith's gaze just glancing down at his lips for a fraction of a heartbeat, but Hunk did. Hunk definitely didn't miss how Keith tilted his chin up, his head tilting just ever so slightly to the right that Hunk's breath caught in his throat.

Now, Hunk wasn't a voyeur by any means, and this wasn't like a turn on or anything, but like Lance, he was a god damn romantic. And this was so fricken romantic that Hunk's own heart nearly seized from bearing witness to it all.

Kiss the boy; why don't yooouuu, kiss the boy~ Just go on and kiss the boy~!

Keith's hand moves from Lance's hand, about to touch his neck and Hunk is mentally shaking scuttle in anticipation in his head, the chorus pounding loudly in his head and then—

"Hi! How's everything?"

Bam! The canoe is flipped over. Hunk holds in a groan, forces himself not to glare at the waitress, who bounced over too peppily for his liking, too enthusiastic.

Lance jerks himself away, but Hunk notices how he didn't go far. Unlike in some other occasions, Lance didn't jerk so far away he was falling out of the booth. He didn't throw his hands up comically to show he wasn't being touchy-feely. Lance jerked, but he jerked to a sitting position, still in the same spot, crowding Keith up into the booth's corner, Keith's legs across his lap. There was a magnificent blush working across his cheeks and his hands, which were once on Keith's waist, were now, by the looks of it, in his lap.

Or more likely, Hunk thinks as he notices Keith's knee and Lance's hand just above it, creasing the jeans he wore, clutching Keith's legs to him like a lifeline. Like if Keith, like him (and Hunk), had their reverie broken by this too-peppy girl, that Keith might have as well, and if that happens he could come to his senses and push Lance away and it seems he was scared of that.

But Hunk didn't linger on him for longer than a second, eyes glued to Keith and his reactions. His startle was less dramatic than Lance's, and the hand that had been reaching for Lance's neck to caress during the would-be kiss was still there in mid-air and without a neck to caress.

Keith barely spares a glance to who interrupted, eyes flicking to her before landing back on Lance. And the way he looked at Lance, with such longing and love, really did make Hunk feel like a voyeur in this moment. Even with the moment lost, Keith didn't take his legs back; he didn't huff in irritation and cross his arms and proceed to be a grump like he was sure Lance would think he would do.

After coming to terms that Lance wouldn't be back to fill the spot in his arms, he seemed to slouch against the wall, disappointed, as he watched Lance stutter while talking to the waitress about how everything was good, tasty, and c-could she please get them another carafe of coffee? His face was red as Hunk has ever seen it. And he's only ever seen it this red when he teases him about Keith.

Once the waitress left, effectively ruining the moment like those mean eels from the Little Mermaid, Lance coughed once in awkwardness, unsure where to go but seemingly having a death grip on Keith's legs, just in case. Like Keith wasn't strong enough to break through his hold if he really wanted to enough.

Keith, still gazing (lovingly, if Hunk could say) at Lance, Keith slouched back against the wall more, lifting his legs a bit and Hunk could see the panic and rejection flit across Lance's face before all Keith did was cross his legs to be comfortable and set them back over Lance's lap, left arm making grabby motions to Lance's flurry of the day.

"Gimme some of that. I'm going to need something normal tasting after that new pot of coffee you just got."

Lance mechanically slides over the fancy milkshake cup and Keith takes it to hold it in his lap, taking a few bites and over exaggerating a hum at the taste. And then finally, like he remembered Hunk was there (they had both probably forgotten, so wrapped up in themselves. It's adorably sickening), he looked to Hunk.

"Lemme try yours too. It's different than last time, isn't it?" He asks, making grabby hands at his cup even though Lance's was set, still, within reach of Keith's grubby hands. Hunk chuckles naturally, sliding it over.

"Yeah. S'mores this time."

Hunk was sure Lance's brain was slowly melting, because he had glanced down and noticed his hands were still gripping Keith's leg. One right under his knee, and the other at his thigh, not that Keith seemed to mind as he took a bite with Lance's spoon.

"How do you even know which are good? Have you tried all of them?" He asks, taking a spoonful to feed it to Lance, still embarrassed and shell-shocked that Keith wasn't screaming at him to get away and to stop touching him. It was like Keith wanted to normalize this touchy-feely behavior, wanted to tell Lance, hey, it's okay, touch me more.

"Almost." Hunk nods in achievement, watching as after a few more spoon-fed bites, Lance begins to calm and once more slides back into his skin, where he was most comfortable.

"Technically, we've tried all of them." Lance corrects him, still embarrassed but now, at least, he wasn't frozen. "We each got different flavors to go through the list." Keith snorts in amusement.

"Great teamwork." He says, but there wasn't anything sarcastic or mean about it, and he gets this funny little smile like he was sad about something before shoving another spoonful in his mouth, and doing the same to Lance when he opened his mouth to retort.

All in all, Hunk can call this night a success. Yeah, sure, Lance never got the kiss that could've changed their fate and finally made them a couple, but now at least he hopes Lance knew well enough that Keith was into him and he'd take the next step.

The night ended without preamble as they paid with their student cards, Lance adamantly expressing he'll pay for Keith's food. Keith let's him after the third insistence and when it was time to untangle themselves from the corner of the booth, still smushed together, they did so reluctantly. Keith seemed sluggish as he slid out after Lance had gone, a near imperceptible pout on his lips.

And yeah, Hunk should mind his own business. And yeah, he'll probably get in trouble for it. And yeah, Hunk never knew how to leave something alone once he set his mind onto something.

He just needed the right time.

"Hey, Keith." Hunk smiles brightly, coming to stand by Keith, who had been leaning against a wall, waiting for he and Lance for their movie night.

"Hey Hunk." Keith says, looking up and giving a smile, and then tilts it in confusion when Lance wasn't with him. "Where's Lance?" He asks, like Hunk knew he would. Gods, they just needed to profess their undying love for one another already.

"He got held up in class, being reprimanded by the teacher." Keith chuckles, shaking his head.

"He has a knack for trouble, doesn't he?"

"Like you would not believe." Hunk groans, remembering all those times he got in trouble. Keith laughs again, slouching back against the wall when it appeared they would be waiting a bit.

"Got you sent to the principal's office one too many times, huh?" Hunk pauses, staring for a half a second before nodding.

"Oh yeah, big time." But he had to wonder, how did Keith know that? Did Lance tell him? He'd been around for nearly all of their interactions, and he never once heard anything about that. Keith nods solemnly.

"I feel you. Kinda. Got detention cuz of him." Keith sighs, shaking his head with a helpless smile and Hunk thought, it was now or never. He did not want his sacrificing Lance to the teacher to be made in vain, as he was the one who set Lance up, specifically so that he could have this talk. But even though Keith seemed chill, there was no way Hunk could think of how he would react.

He could react badly and never speak to them again. He could potentially reveal Lance's crush, and if Keith sees him only platonically, he could have ruined a friendship.

This thing needed tact, and yet Hunk didn't have time for tact.

"Sooo, okay, I have to get this out because it's been bugging me." He says, Keith's eyes going to him as he starts and he straightens up, listening intently. "I don't know if you know but it's pretty obvious, you know? And sometimes it's hard to watch because Lance tries to hard and I've been kinda trying to get him to confess his so-called 'secret' feelings but my god he is the most hard-headed guy I've ever met." He says it all in one breath, taking one at the end of it. Keith just stares at him, tilting his head as if to say, well? Finish the rest of what's on your mind.

"I just want to ask," Hunk braces himself for the rebuttal. "Do you like Lance?" He pauses, then starts again. "I mean like-like him. Do you like him, like him? Or just friend-like him? Cuz, I think if you only friend-like him them—" Keith covers his mouth, but he's got a smile on his face, easy-going, gentle, understanding.

"Yeah." He says, letting his hand drop after he'd responded.

"Yeah? Yeah, what?"

"I like-like him." He says, his voice was the low timbre he always spoke in, but to Hunk it seemed more tender and he gasps and squeals, covering his mouth as if he were surprised and Keith just shared a secret.

"Oh my gosh! You do!" He says happily and hugs Keith, picking him up. Keith laughs, patting his back awkwardly from where his arms were smushed to his side but he didn't seem to mind.

"Yeah, I do. I like him a lot." Hunk finally sets him down, still giddy now that he knew for sure. Keith leans back against the wall, staring down the hall were Lance would be coming from. "I love him." He says, and Hunk swears he nearly passes out from accidentally holding his breath in his excitement.

"Then why don't you make the first move?" He asks, eager to plot. Keith chuckles and looks to Hunk.

"I want him to be comfortable with me." Keith answers so simply, so eloquently, that Hunk was glad he was in Lance's corner for this. Keith x Lance forever. Now that he thought about it, Lance hadn't actually been flirting with girls lately. "Without all the airs he tries putting on, though that's charming in its own way." He says, teasing lacing his voice and Hunk snickers, nodding in agreement.

"Wow." Hunk says again, grin wide. He's probably got a couple more minutes before Lance weaseled his way out of trouble like he usually does. "If Lance ever heard you saying any of that, he'd accuse you of being a completely different person who stole Keith's body and took his life." Keith burst into laughter, arm around his waist.

"Why would that be?"

"Because when you guys first met, it was like the Cold War we learned so much about."

Keith pauses, looking to Hunk like he was trying to ascertain if Hunk was telling the truth, and he folds his arm, resting his elbow on it as he puts his hand to his chin in thought.

"Was I really like that?" Keith asks, glancing back up to Hunk from where his gaze had fallen to the floor.

"Uhh, well.. yeah. I only heard snippets from Lance, but I did see you once and you were a grumpus." Keith seems to think, shaking his head lightly.

"I guess I must've been like that." He shook his head again. "That was just so long ago." And the way Keith says it makes Hunk pause, feeling like there was more to that statement. Keith talks about it like it had been years since he was like that, not a month and a half.

Maybe Lance's theories did warrant suspicion, he thought as Keith perks from his slouched position he saw Lance barreling down the hall at unrecommended speeds, nearly bowling over a few freshmen in the process.

But, as he watched Keith's face brighten when his eyes land on Lance, he decides it could be worse, having someone who loves Lance so much steal his crush and rival's life and body to use it to love Lance.

It could be a whole lot worse.

"C'mon, Lance, why can't you just admit that you like him?" Hunk asks that Sunday evening after Lance had let Keith begrudgingly go back to his dorm room. As expected, Lance's cheeks color and he folds his arms.

"Just drop it, Hunk." Lance huffs, but Hunk will get something out of him tonight if it kills him. And luckily for Hunk, he knew the right thing. It was a talent to jump into singing Disney songs, especially for them. Never, not once, has one person started to sing and the other refused. It was like an unspoken rule, regardless of how they were feelings, because by the end of it both of them were laughing and cheerful.

"Who d'you think you're kidding? He's the earth and heaven to ya," Hunk starts to sing, and Lance glares at him, pursing his lips. "Try to keep it hidden; honey, we can see right through ya." Lance seems to grit his teeth before jumping in, "oh noooo," and Hunk knew he had him. "Boy, you can't conceal it; we know how you feel and who you're thinking of~"

"No chance, no way, I won't say it, no, no." Lance has stood up, getting into the groove of their impromptu Disney musical. He grabs a pencil from the desk, using it as the microphone.

"You swoon, you sigh. Why deny it? Uh-oh,"

"It's too cliché, I won't say I'm in love." Lance sings, going onto Meg's second chorus and Hunk let him, waiting for the lyrics he needed, or Lance needed, to hear as they danced about the room and luckily were not disturbed by their neighbors for the ruckus.

"You keep on denying, who you are and how you're feeling. Baby, we're not buying. Hon, we saw you hit the ceiling." And it finally seemed like Lance realized what Hunk was doing, cheeks flooding even as he continued to sing the correct parts, if not more manically. "Face it like a grown-up. When you gonna own up, that you got, got got it baaaad?"

"No chance! No way! I won't say it no, no."

"Give up, give in. Check the grin, you're in love." Hunk grins himself. Poking Lance's cheek. Lance swats the hand away, glaring.

"This scene won't play, I won't say I'm in love!"

"You're doin' flips, read my lips, you're in love!"

"You're way off base, I won't say it! Get off my case, I won't say it!"

"Boy, don't be proud! It's okay, you're in love~"

Lance sighs, dramatically sitting on his bed.

"Ohhhh… at least out loud, I won't say I'm in love."

"So you do admit it!" Lance jerks from his drooping Meg position, cheeks flushing red.

"HUNK!" Lance screeches, grabbing a pillow and it hits its mark hard, Hunk falling back into his bed with a laugh, pillow muffling his laughter barely.

Worth it.

Lance's least favorite and favorite times were when he was made to watch Keith in the simulator. Watch how perfectly he flew: without fail, without error, without faltering in his next moves. It made him awed and insecure all at once.

Keith Kogane, the prodigy student.

Lance sighs internally as Keith's team was called, and he watched him intently. Keith hesitates as he steps closer to the simulator, jerking back just barely for Lance to notice as he looks up and stares at the machinery like it was going to come alive and attack him, which was weird, because Keith was never scared.

With a set jaw, Keith goes in a minute after his crew and the flight was perfect. Except Lance felt his skin crawl unnaturally as he watched the monitor and Keith jumps up and away from the exploding spark of technology.

"Get out now!" The Keith on the monitor yelled as the rest of the students of his crew cried in alarm, loud even through the metal of the simulator.

Lance had been frantic when he heard the struggles of his classmates, blood like ice in his veins as they tried to open the door.

Seeing Keith grab a crow bar kicked him into gear and he shoved his way to the front where the instructors are already attempting to crack the melted door open.

How this happened, no one had any clue.

Lance grabbed he small opening and starts to pull, grunting with the effort and gritting his teeth against the burn of the metal along his palms.

He's pulled back with the student that was pushed out of the simulator, and Lance's eyes widen when he sees Keith standing, frozen, and something in Lance's very soul told him he was too late as their eyes lock.

Lance's eyes go wide with panic as Keith turns his eyes— strangely magnificent, shimmering gold and light and crackling, lightening, magenta— to the side. To the pilot seat.

"Keith!" Lance screams, body already in motion to lean forward and propel himself to grab Keith and pull him out himself.

He must have been hallucinating— this was probably a dream. In slow motion, Keith raises his hand as if to shield his eyes from the sun. The sun, the machine starting to blow up. There was another crackle of purple light. It was gentle, expanding into a bubble-like structure that enveloped Keith.

By the time Lance was reaching for Keith, the light from the explosion had nearly swallowed everything— it was a harsher magenta, nearly black in how deep it was. Lance had thought, rather foolishly, that he could make grabbing Keith's elbow and pulling him from the line of fire.

Lance had barely hooked a finger in the uniform's sleeve before the light swallowed everything and he thought— at least I could go out a hero. I could go out like Keith.

There was enormous pressure and the crackling of exploding equipment. He was thrown back with enough force it could have been an explosive instead of malfunctioning equipment.

Keith's flickering eyes— gold, pink, fuchsia, were the last things he remembered.

When Lance woke up, his body felt like he'd been hit by a truck while simultaneously being too stoned to even walk. Even twitching his fingers felt like the biggest feat in the world, let alone opening his eyes.

But achieve it he does, lifting his heavy lids like gravity was working against them doubletime. They'd closed against his will three times before he had finally managed to keep them open long enough to strain his eyes to see his surroundings.

White walls and large windows letting the light in. A small TV was hanging on the wall directly in front of him, turned off. In the silence, he felt his ears ringing.

What happened?

Next to him was a rhythmical beeping. He was alone, it seemed, in a hospital room. Why he was there remains to be answered, but with the way he was feeling he would have guessed he had been in an accident. He tries to speak, only getting out wheezes of air.

Lance doesn't remember being in an accident. The last thing he remembered was that he was watching Keith do a perfect rescue mission on the simulator, so maybe Keith would know—

Lance gasps and his eyes flew wide, his body jerking up and then falling just as quickly with the pain that rocked his body, the beeping next to him increasing in frequency and speed.

Keith!

Despite the pain, like thousands of needles shoved into him, he still struggled to sit up as the monitor went haywire.

Nurses rushed in, babbling something Lance couldn't care to find out what, vision swimming as he haphazardly tried to pull out the IVs attached to his arm. It must be heavy duty pain killers that made him feel like he'd been run over, but he thinks that was only partially it, not that he had enough brain power to come to a conclusion that made sense.

The nurses easily stopped his struggles and screwed in a syringe into the line, pushing in the clear contents. Seconds later, Lance feels heavier, all the while his head felt like it was floating. His struggles cease and he desperately fights to keep his eyes on the people around him, already blurred from the benzodiazepine they no doubt pushed.

His vision blurred and then darkened, until he no longer knew if his vision went black from being blurred, or if it had gone black because he had closed his eyes.

The second time Lance woke up was marginally more pleasant than the first time.

Lance felt even more sluggish than the first time, but at least the heavy weight upon his muscles had lifted, if only a fraction. This time, as he surveyed his surroundings, he noticed that he was not alone.

Veronica sat in one of the visitor chairs in the corner, arms folded and head lolling to the side in her sleep, only kept in a relatively comfortable position because of the wall.

What is she doing here...? He thought, blinking his eyes further.

Hunk sat in a chair by his bedside, snoozing off with his arms pillowing his head near the foot of the bed. How Lance had missed him the first glance around, he really didn't know.

Lance groaned, loudly, to inform his visitors about his coming to consciousness. It was rather funny to see then both jump from surprise, a testament to how light they were actually sleeping, and had Lance felt better, he would have laughed. Be that as it may, he attempted to move to a sitting position, fighting his fatigued muscles all the way.

"Lance, don't try to sit up; you've been badly injured." Veronica scolds gently, keeping him down with a persistent hand on his shoulder. He whines, groaning again at the extra resistance as he completely ignored her. She sighs an irritated breath at his complete disregard of her authority. "Lance!"

Lance huffs as he falls back, only staying still long enough for her to take the hand off his shoulder before struggling again and he hears Veronica's frustration through her next breath.

"Hunk, please, tell this idiot brother of mine to stop being an idiot."

Hunk sputters, not wanting to get between a sibling's fight. Not being much of help, Veronica sighs in agitation, allowing Hunk to help Lance into a half-sitting position. After drinking like a man starved, Lance calms down. He hadn't noticed how dry and parched his throat had become.

"Where—" Lance clears his throat, scratchy to his own ears. "What— what happened?" His voice sounded and felt like sandpaper and he winces, even though the other two only looked on with sympathy.

"Y-you don't remember?" Hunk asks, glancing at Veronica then to Lance, sitting at the foot of the hospital bed. Lance purses his lips, scrunching his eyes closed for a moment before he looks up at Hunk, pleading.

"... Keith?"

Hunk's face fell further, eyes falling to his lap as he fiddled with his fingers. Lance didn't have to look at his sister to see how confused she might be. Lance sucks in a breath, eyes welling with tears.

"H-how did that happen? Why did it happen?" His voice, although stronger, was now cracking with emotion. He didn't really want someone to answer, in the middle of a breakdown as he was. Over his sobs he heard Hunk speak, "Keith was a classmate and friend... he was the only one who didn't survive the explosion..." Lance's breath hitched and he didn't bother to dry off his cheeks, arms like lead by his sides and heart feeling as heavy as the sun's gravitational pull on the planets. "... They couldn't even find the body.." Hunk whispered, a few notches quieter but Lance still heard and it made his heart break.

This time when nurses rushed in to sedate him, he welcomed them. He didn't fight the drugs as his vision blackened and his ears became muffled from sound as he fell back into the black abyss of sleep.

The third time Lance woke up, he had felt remarkably better. His muscles no longer felt like lead or dead weights connected together by a central nervous system, even though his heart was now twice as heavy than his muscles ever felt during the times he has woken up.

He didn't know how long it had been since he had been awake. Hell, he didn't even know how long it had been since the accident.

It was the middle of the night, and Lance could thank whatever god was out there that he did not have company. Sitting up still took a lot out of him, but he managed. The room was still and quiet, dark except for the sliver of moonlight coming from a waning crescent. He could only keep himself together for so long before he dropped his face into his palms, breaths hiccuping with wretched sobs.

No, he wasn't really in pain. In fact, his body felt right as rain. It was his heart that was the problem— a heavy cinder block constantly keeping pressure, he thought his heart would literally be crushed because he could still hear Hunk whispering, Keith was a classmate and a friend... he was the only one who didn't survive the explosion..

Lance could still feel the heat at his side from being so close to Keith at time of impact.

They couldn't even find the body.

They couldn't even find his fucking body.

His body shook from the strength of his cries, trying to stifle them despite the monitor letting him know he wasn't successful in shielding his pain. No nurse came, however, and for that he was grateful. Whether they were ignoring their duties or had decided he needed a moment to himself.

He just couldn't wrap his mind around it, that Keith— Golden Boy of the Garrison, sweet, kind, just a little bit off, perfect guy, could be gone and not even a corpse remains.

Lance doesn't know for how long he cries, or even how long it had been since the explosion. The room offers no way of knowing either and with the same heavy heart he had woken up with, he fell into the black abyss.

Lance lay in his bed, feeling the weight of the world on his heart. His hand was raised— the right one. The one he had gotten a hold of Keith with.

He should have been gone, too. Blown to smithereens. Keith's body was completely incinerated, not a trace of him left for Lance to mourn over except for the scar touching Keith that final time had made. His whole index finger was burned, although it was only burned cosmetically. After the healing was done, which took less time that Lance was questioning if it were even a burn to begin with. The burn went down his palm, to the little divot where palm met wrist in a decreasing line. It didn't even look like a burn mark, just a piece of discolored flesh. It didn't look terrible against his dark skin, the mauve kind of blending in. The color bled into the inside of his middle finger and just a bit on his knuckles.

That was the only thing he had to remember Keith by.

Well, not the only thing. But it served as a constant reminder.

Lance felt his heart clench at the overwhelming emotion that overcame him, because he'd been a coward all those times. He let his uncertainty about showing his true feelings control his life. And he regrets it.

He regrets it. He regrets not telling Keith how much he loved him.

Lance had been so worried about rejection he never even thought about how Keith leaned into him imperceptibly. He had been too busy doing the whole Meg, no, I won't say I'm in love thing that now he had missed his chance entirely.

Because Keith was gone. Keith was dead. And Lance felt a black hole in his chest because now that Keith was gone, these feelings were overflowing, bleeding from his pores, and he didn't know what to do with them now that the one person who could receive and accept them was no longer there.

They were together, in bed.

Keith was laying on his side in front of him, their naked legs tangled and warmth seeped into him even though Keith's body was cool to the touch.

In this tender moment, cleaned up from loving and pressing sweet kisses to each other's cheeks and lips, Lance felt his heart swell with joy and gratitude. A complete one eighty from what he feels when he was awake.

And even though Keith didn't look like the Keith he knew, instinctively, he knew it was Keith.

Lance moves his fingers along the juncture of Keith's shoulder and neck and Keith leans up into him, stretching out his neck to allow for more touch. His skin wasn't the pale white Lance had thought it would be in the moonlight. It was a soft mauve, soft to the touch. His fingers trail up Keith's neck to his cheek to brush bangs back from his lovely face.

When Keith opens his eyes, they're golden orbs of light, transcendent. Lance could see the golden iris in the middle of it all, a barely there outline of human eyes, and he thinks it's the most beautiful thing he had ever had the privilege of seeing.

Keith smiles softly, eyes half lidded in the aftermath of their love. He turns his head just slightly, plush lips kissing his palm. He had large ears on top of his head, somewhere between a bat and a cat. There were marks on his cheeks, like a weirdly morphed Tesla logo under his eyes, stretching in points down his cheeks.

"Lance," He whispers, not because they thought they needed to be quiet, but because such tender moments warranted soft voices. "Thank you…" Lance wanted to ask what for, but the Lance in the dream only kissed him chastely on the lips, once, twice, before letting Keith continue to speak. "Thank you for never giving up on me.. Thank you for bringing me home.

"I love you, Lance."

Another swell of a feeling that Lance, while awake, has yet to feel.

"I love you too, Keith."

Classes resumed two weeks after the incident. Although there wasn't any real damage to be seen, like burns, the simulator refused to work so they had to replace the entire thing, along with any technology that was within twenty feet of it, connected or not.

Lance, haven been released a week prior to classes restarting, had been told he was moving up from cargo to pilot class, and although no one told him why, he had a gut feeling.

Keith had been the best pilot in the class, his death meant another spot had opened up and Lance was able to slide in, always second to the Golden Boy. He couldn't even take proper celebration for getting into the class of his dreams; his aspirations since he was a child. The feeling of achievement is dulled, and Veronica doesn't ask why. It's a bit morbid to feel happy about getting into fighter pilot classification because of the death of his friend.

Lance had never told Veronica about what Keith truly meant to him, doesn't even know if he could talk to Hunk about it, even though he probably knows. Hunk is smart like that, intuitive.

In the halls people whisper about him. He ignores them. They didn't know Keith like he did, they didn't know the special kind of relationship he had with him. He supposes everyone thought he would take joy in the fact his rival was gone and he tried not to fault them for it. They didn't know about the times he and Hunk took Keith out to the diner halfway between the Garrison and Plaht City, they didn't know how many nights they spent educating Keith on the classics of movies.

Lance felt like a liar walking around. A fraud, a phony, and he wonders if that one, strange day that he met the Keith he has come to know now, was a day that Keith had lost someone. And then he wonders if Keith then found Lance, and clung to him like a lifeline.

No, he didn't think Keith used him for such a thing. Their relationship would have been more unhealthy if it were true.

Not that it matters anymore.

Lance doesn't know what to do anymore. Keith had been his standard to beat, his standard to achieve the things Keith did. But Keith wasn't here anymore, so what was the point? Lance slouches in his seat, the second class of the day. Teachers had been lenient with them, considering the trauma he went through.

I almost got him out…

Lance closes his eyes. He's been having dreams. Weird, but good, dreams. Where it was he and Keith, no matter how different he looked. Where it was them holding hands as they walked the halls of a white castle or sitting close for breakfast among friends. Sometimes, even Hunk would be there, and some faces of people he's sure he has never met.

Sometimes, it was him and Keith in Keith's dorm room. Keith's chin resting on Lance's chest as he gazes lovingly at him, Lance no doubt talking his ear off about something or another but it didn't look like he minded.

It would be nice if he could go to that place and never return.

He feels frantic and he doesn't know why. His skin crawls and at his feet was a dying Galra soldier, even though he doesn't even know what a Galra is. A harsh sob comes from next to him, and he realizes he must be dreaming as he steps to the side to see Keith, donned in weird battle armor, staring at the dead thing at his feet.

The Galra gurgles, taking the last few breaths as he stared up at Keith, unresponsive despite the emotions Lance could feel festering under his skin. Dread fills him, a heavy sensation Lance is familiar to but on a different level. Keith had a sword in his hand, lax as it points down and it was covered in dark red, matching the color on the Galra's chest.

Keith stumbles away and Lance follows despite not actually having a body. His sword drops and it dematerializes into nothing. His breaths came in quick, short bursts as he tries to keep himself up. He's going somewhere— anywhere, from this place and that dead Galra soldier.

Keith threw off the armor plates as he stood next to a river, Lance barely even noticing how unbashful he is of this— not that it was real. His hands shook terribly as he tried to scrub the literal blood off his hands and out of his matted hair. There was a tremor in his soul, something pulling him down and down and down. Keith's jaw clenches and Lance watches in rapt attention as he takes a breath and—

"MCCLAIN!"

Lance screams, jumping in his seat and banging his knee on the metal underside of the desk. He pants heavily, eyes darting around, blood pumping hard in his veins that he was sure he had just experienced killing someone. But no one was there. He was in class, surrounded by the judging eyes of his peers that looked on with either pity, amusement, or apathy.

The teacher pushes up her glasses. "Is my class boring you, McClain?" Lance gulps, swallowing the lump in his throat as he hears the echoing of Keith's scream in his ear.

"N-no, sorry. Won't happen again.." he says and he hopes so, too. That was terrible to experience. Lance had never seen war, except learning about them in history classes. He had never seen someone close to death, either. Had never seen fatal accidents first hand. But now he could feel his muscles remember— it wasn't even him. His muscles raised and the way they swing down, putting pressure against the breastplate of a soldier. He shudders to think of it and he blinks hard, trying to calm himself down and pay attention.

Lance had never felt so tired in his life until now. They'd been on mission after mission with barely time to rest and sleep. But as tired as he was, he was also happy. He felt like humming and skipping as he sets Blue down in the hanger and runs from her jaws, a pep in his step.

Even though a part of him was envious that Pidge had gotten their brother back, he was glad they were able to experience reunion with their family, even when he knew he wouldn't be able to see his for a long time.

Everyone was gathered around in Green's hanger. He felt himself stall, hesitant, as he studied each face he saw and came up one short.

"Where's Keith?"

The happy reunion feelings dropped into something aggressive and Lance couldn't understand it. But he felt his other self drown in confusion.

"Where's Keith?" He repeats himself.

"He's gone—"

A feeling like nothing had ever felt before tugged at his heart, his mind, his entire being, and then he's being pulled physically away from Keith, who was desperately reaching out to him. Try as he might, Lance was pulled by an unknown being further and further away—

"Keith!" Lance screams, jolting out of his mind and falling to the floor in his haste. He pants as he looks around, some students snicker while others pretend not to notice.

He's… He's back?

"McClain," Iverson calls him from the front of the class. He doesn't seem as pissed off as other teachers had tended to get when Lance has these weird episodes. Maybe it was because Iverson was there during the blast, he had seen Keith push students out before himself. He had seen Lance lunge to get Keith out in desperation and get caught in the blast that destroyed not only the Golden Boy, but also his dear friend. He looked at Lance with pity and sympathy and it made Lance's skin crawl, even though he didn't know why.

"I-I'm fine." Lance stutters, heart still in his throat as he slips back into his head and gribs the edges of his desk to ground himself there.

That was too real to have been a dream. It was too intense. He ignores the look Hunk gave him, playing the worried friend.

"Lance, we have to talk about this."

"No, we don't. I have nothing to talk about." Lance says, trying to continue to ignore Hunk and his gentle but insistent prodding.

"And the dreams? You're falling asleep during class and waking up in a frenzy. They're nightmares, aren't they?" Lance grits his teeth, staring at one sentence in his textbook that isn't processing in his brain.

"Not always.." He settles on, voice going gruff as he remembers the myriad of dreams he's had. From him and Keith together to him alone, to him and others. He almost wants them to stop. Except if the bad dreams stop then he also loses the good ones and it makes him hesitant to tell the therapist about it. The one that had been assigned to him following the accident. He sees her twice a week and barely talks to her, sometimes even zones out and focuses on the tinkling laughter the Keith in his dream had.

".. Are they about Keith?" Hunk asks as gently as he could. He doesn't sound like he's judging. Lance shrugs.

"Sometimes. Sometimes I'm— it's so weird, Hunk. The entire thing is just so weird.. It's like I'm living a whole new life in my dreams. Can trauma do that? Can I be so desperate and scared that I lost Keith, that I make up entire worlds in my dreams? Things I haven't even seen?" Lance finally raises his gaze from his textbook to look at his best friend, each at a complete loss. "I don't know what I should do, Hunk..

"I… I loved him. I love him, and he's gone." Lance's voice hitched and his gaze goes back to the book, taking a deep breath. "But he's there, in my dreams. And we're in love, and we hold hands, and I don't even have dreams about him blowing up, but sometimes—" He pauses, taking a breath and wiping away a stray tear. "Sometimes I have these dreams, where I did lose him, but I knew I would find him…

"I'm just so lost, Hunk… I don't know what to do anymore." Lance murmurs, helpless and unsure. Even Hunk wasn't sure what he could do or say to make it better.

Hunk purses his lips, fiddling with his fingers in his lap.

"I think… I think Keith would want you to live on." He says, and Lance nearly believes him. "You know how he always had your back. He would want you to be the best you could be. At least this way, you could honor his memory. You could become the pilot he couldn't."

Lance hates to say it; hates it because he knew Hunk was right. He knew he was wasting away in his desperation and longing and depression. The school was lenient with him because of his circumstances, but for how much longer are they going to do that? His grades have been slipping because he couldn't focus or concentrate, and soon they'll kick him out, circumstances or not.

And if he gets kicked out, how would he ever honor Keith? Become the pilot Keith told him he could become?

For some reason, Lance wasn't as shocked about the Kerberos crew going missing as he thought he should be.

Takashi Shirogane was his hero, his idol. And he knew how close Keith was with him, knew because the night before he had had a dream about Keith, if Keith were here in the cafeteria and how he would react when he heard the news on the television.

"Oh man…" Hunk whispers as he sits next to him, worried.

Lance nods, brows pinched in thought. "Hunk," He says cautiously, catching his friend's attention. "What if.. What if they aren't dead?" He asks, quiet enough to keep it just between them. Hunk wasn't a gossip that would tell the other student how Lance had gone crazy with conspiracy theories. Hunk only seemed confused.

"What do you mean, not dead? You saw the news.." He says, voice quiet back. Lance purses his lips, eyes to his uneaten food and he takes a bite of a bread roll. "Ohh.. Oh, are you.. Are you talking about the dreams?" He asks and Lance sighs, giving Hunk the answer he was looking for.

"I'm not crazy, right?" He whispers, desperate. The intruding dreams were getting less frequent, probably because of the regime of medication his therapist had him on, and how he had written these dreams down in a locked electronic journal. He didn't fall asleep in class anymore, but any time he had those dreams they came so fierce in intensity he had to wonder.

Hunk purses his lips, and then grins. "I mean, aren't we all, just a little bit?" Lance breaks into a small smile, shaking his head and patting Hunk's arm.

"Right you are, big guy, right you are."

The first time Lance and Hunk had been grouped together as a team, was the first time he had put a name to the face in his dreams.

"Who the heck is Pidge Gunderson?" He asks, and he doesn't think he does it too unkindly.

"Me, I'm Pidge Gunderson." At the voice he turns and stares. It was the same face he saw after they had left Keith in open space.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Hunk, and this quiet guy is Lance." Hunk says, noticing the unusual silence. Lance shakes his head.

"Glad to have you," Lance says, giving a confident smile.

Lance didn't know what he was doing. Literally— no fucking idea. Didn't know what he was doing out of the Garrison, didn't know why he was gathering these explosives (where in goddamn hell did he even get his hands on these?!), shoving them into the side of the rocks in the mountain a few clicks away from the Garrison.

But even though he didn't know, just like he didn't know where he knew where to get the hovercraft, he did know.

Instinctually.

It was this movement under his skin, like static, like bugs moving under his skin, telling him to do this. It needs to happen.

God. He was gonna get in so much trouble if anyone ever found out…

The day that Lance felt creeping up on him was the day he got chewed out by Iverson for crashing the simulator. Again.

"We shouldn't be doing this." Hunk whines from behind him.

"You heard Commander Iverson. He said we had to bond as a team. We're gonna grab Pidge, hit the town, loosen up, meet some nice girls—" Lance says all that, but it doesn't really process in his brain. Why was he saying these things? To seem more like himself even though Hunk knows he's a total wreck?

"I-I'm just saying this here, right now, on the recond. This is a bad idea." Lance rolls his eyes. All of his ideas were great. Lance runs through the dark corridor, Hunk following behind despite his complaints.

"You know, for someone in a space exploration program, you don't have much of a sense of adventure." Lance crouches under the instructors' lounge, sparing a glance inside before crawling under the window.

"All of your 'little adventures' end up with me in the principal's office." Hunk sighs, getting to his knees. "Awh, man.."

Lance didn't know how perfect his plans came to be, especially finding trash cans with their signature colors to hide in, or how the guard that passed by earlier completely didn't hear Hunk yelling as he crashed, but hey, Lance wasn't one to take things going according to plan for granted.

They got to Pidge's room just in time to see him— them? sneak out of his room.

"Where is he going?" Lance asks, because he feels he has to, for Hunk's sake. Even though Hunk would never judge him, Lance kept all the dreams to himself, now, as sparingly as they had gotten.

So Lance goes with the flow. Pidge doesn't know him, doesn't— didn't know Keith. It wasn't as if a giant memorial was put up of him, or any, actually. Who would want to pay homage to an orphan boy?

But Lance knows, tonight, something was coming. He doesn't quite have everything all planned out, but that didn't matter when all he needed was the moment in which it happened to know what to do.

"Attention students; this is not a drill! We are on lockdown! Security situation Zulu Niner. Repeat: all students are to remain in barracks until further notice."

Lance feels the outline of the detonator in his jacket pocket, a small little thing. Lance follows Pidge with barely a look back to Hunk, knowing he'll follow suit. He's uncharacteristically quiet as he looks through the binoculars, gritting his teeth. The dagger dug into his back, a reminder.

"We have to get him out."

"I hate to be the voice of reason here, always, but weren't we just watching on TV because there was no way to get past the guards?"

"We just have to think. Maybe we can get some hazmat suits and sneak in like med techs."

"Or, we dress up like cooks, head back to the dorms, sneak into the commissary— little late-night snack."

"No, we just need a distraction.." Lance grits his teeth, thumbing the button in his pocket and pressing it with a tiny click— Pidge and Hunk jump in surprise at the explosions, loud as they were.

"Is that the aliens? Are— is— is that the aliens? Are they here? They got here so quick!"

"Let's go!" Lance gets up, pulling Pidge and Hunk by the sleeves before charging down the hill, ignoring the yells of confusion.

"Lance! Wait! What are you doing?!" Lance grunts as he gets to the gorge, pulling the tarp from over the hovercraft. "Lance, what— oh my god. Lance, was that— was that you?"

Lance hops onto the bike, starting it. "No time to explain right now, just get on! We have to go get Shiro." Hunk's face drained of color even though he climbed on anyway, Pidge sitting behind Lance and holding on for dear life as he sped off—

The wind in his face, arms around his waist and a face he knew so well pressing between his shoulder blades at his back. The sun on the horizon, a calling of— of something.

Hunk's screaming ultimately brought him back as he parks just behind the large boulder and goes in without preamble or plan.

Something was here. Something led me here. I won't let them stop me now.

Lance stares down at the passed out body of his hero, Hunk and Pidge trailing inside a second after him.

"I didn't know you could fight—" Lance brings the dagger from under his shirt, cutting the straps. "Where did you get a dagger? Have you been carrying that thing around all this time?!"

"No time, Hunk! Just help me—" Lance grunts as he gets Shiro's arm around his shoulder, a worried Hunk coming to help.

"You owe me such a good explanation when we are done here." Hunk says, almost accusingly and Lance couldn't fault him for that as they drag Shiro's unconscious body back to the hovercraft.

"Lance! They're coming back and they do not look happy."

"Then you better hold on tight!" Hunk yelps as Lance revs up the hoverbike, speeding off into the desert.

"Do you even know how to fly this thing?!" Pidge screams.

"Is— is that a cliff up ahead?! Lance, Lance—" Hunk screams, even as Lance speeds up and drives off of it, effectively cutting the Garrison rovers off from following them. Hunk and Pidge scream, yelling profanities and prayers.

"You have to do it like this, Lance. You have to know the timing. You can't be too early, and you can't be too late."

Lance's heart hammered in his chest even as he didn't kill them. His hands shook around the handles, flying them to god knows where.

"Oh my god—" Hunk heaves a sigh, sliding off the bike like he was made of melting clay. Lance couldn't say he felt much better, legs like jello. Appropriately, Hunk finds a spot a few feet away to let out the contents of his dinner and Lance grimaces.

"What—" Shiro groans into being, body probably heavy with the sedative.

"Let's get him inside." Lance says, sliding off once he knew his knees wouldn't buckle. "C'mon buddy.." Lance gets Shiro's arm around his shoulder. Pidge tried to help, but they were practically useless with supporting half of Shiro's weight, considering how short they were.

Inside, they had even found some abandoned clothes. Luckily for Shiro, they also seemed to fit comfortably.

"Okay, out with it Lance, what in the everloving hell was that?" Hunk had demanded after he was satisfied with how empty his stomach was. Lance sighed, he was not looking forward to explaining. He glances up at the wall— bare, unlike in his dreams. Where there were pictures and maps and pins on a board all leading to a single location.

Lance didn't even know where to start. Luckily, it was then that Shiro came back inside, haven gotten some wits back about himself. They all look at each other, neither of them knowing how to really talk to one another— Keith was their one single connection. Keith's relationship to Shiro was what made it possible to save him, because if Keith hadn't set up explosions Shiro would probably have been kept under quarantine for too long.

"I should start by saying thanks, for getting me out.. You're.. Lance, right?" Lance stares at the outstretched arm— robotic, and briefly he sees it flash a light blue instead of deep pink. Lance smiles, blinking away his imagination and clasping his hand to Shiro's.

"— I remember the words Voltron. It's some kind of weapon they're looking for, but I don't know why." Lance blinks again, finding himself to be zoned out. "Whatever it is, I think we need to find it before they do."

"... I think I can find it." Lance whispers, nearly inaudibly. Hunk blinks, looking up at Lance.

"What? How can you find it?" The other two were staring with just as much confusion.

"I.. I can't explain it.." Lance takes a breath, closing his eyes against the sudden sting of them, feeling electricity dance along his skin. Like a fizzle of a soda can, really. It was pleasant, and it was bizarre.

"Well, then take us to it." Shiro didn't seem like he knew what was really happening, but he looked about ready to take any lead he got. Lance takes another breath, feeling pressure behind his eyes and at his forehead.

"Yeah,"

"Whoa, how did you know this was here?" Pidge is asking, curiosity peaked. "Did you just always know these were here?" Lance doesn't answer as he walks through the caves, eying the drawings on the wall.

Lance can't quite make out the carvings with the layers of dust and cobwebs, and he swipes his hand over one. Even though he had known it would light up— in his dream, they lit up. He yells along with the rest of them as they fall through the crumbling floor.

Lance groans as he gets up, eyes landing on the shield of the lion that had sat here for centuries, pressing more pressure on his head before it popped. A flood of emotions— none of which were his, sank into his bones. He sucks in a shuddering breath, trying to contain them. His feet drag him up to the honeycomb shield, and he places a hand on the forcefield, dragging his heavy eyes up to meet the eyes of the lion, the voices of his companions muffled like he was underwater.

And honestly, he felt like he was. He was drowning in sensations: purrs, growls, unvoiced concern and questions he didn't know why he understood because they weren't voiced and asked in words.

"It's alright…" He murmurs, seeing the burn against the light of the shield. He gripped his hand into a fist and knocked— twice. He hears the gasps of surprise from his friends and he watches the lion roar and kneel for him, opening its jaw.

At the controls, visions flash by his eyes.

"Hold on tight." Lance says, grabbing the levels on either side and thrusting them forward, finding amusement in the yelling.

"—Where does it go…?"

"It's our destiny, Lance." Keith's voice sounds sweet in his voice. His hand was cold as it cover Lance's, pushing the lever forward just like so. The lion lurcher forward, much like now—

"Lance! What are you doing?"

"Blue wants to go through it."

"Blue?"

"Yeah. Blue." Lance doesn't answer any of their questions, letting Shiro command and calm them as he takes leadership. They were going to go through it anyway.

It was destiny.

Lance was sure Hunk was giving him weird looks as they trailed the slowly lighting hall. Lance was usually never this quiet, always having a comment or another. But Lance can't speak over the flashes of memories he sees, can't tell him his body feels like it's on autopilot, and sometimes not even his own.

Lance jumps as the pod that came up dissolved its shield and a woman falls out. Lance, being closest, caught her. And as she came to, his brain stalled— not because of her beauty, because she is that stunning, but because his eyes saw something else.

"Where… where am I? Who are you?"

Lance realizes this was supposed to be where he answers and his mouth opens to say something stupid like, the name's Lance, and you're right here in my arms, but he can't.

"Princess. We're the new paladins."

"You can't be..—"

"You… you don't remember either? Me, Lance, anyone?" Lance feels his chest squeeze, but it wasn't his.

"Lance?"

Lance startles to the now, blinking rapidly to see Allura looking at him oddly. He wonders how long he'd been zoning.

"S-sorry," he shakes his head, Allura stepping out once her legs regained feeling.

"As I was asking, who are you? What are you doing here?"

Lance was once again stilled into silence— he couldn't possibly tell her.

"A giant blue lion brought us here, that's all we know." Shiro spoke up, sparing a glance to Lance in worry. Lance shrugs, just blame it on his ADD.

Hunk keeps sending worrying glances his way, sprinkled with accusatory ones, because Lance never did explain what he wanted explained and now Lance was pretty much ignoring him. Lance had taken them from their home, their life, and thrown them into this place— however many light years away.

Allura is speaking, telling of the attributes of the lions, not that he was paying attention until she mentioned the Red Lion.

"The Red Lion is temperamental and the most difficult to master. It's faster and more agile than the others, but also more unstable. Its pilot needs to be someone who relies more on instincts than skill alone." And because it was the last lion to be named, she glanced around and purses her lips, and Lance grits his teeth.

"Keith, you will fly the Red Lion." He hears the Allura in his head say and he has to focus to keep himself here— in the space they were at instead of a time where he wasn't meant to be. Come to think of it, he hadn't taken his medication that day. And now, he didn't have any at all. Damn.

Getting the lions wasn't that bad, and thankfully, Lance didn't get any other flashes to distract him for nearly dying.

"Did we find the Red Lion yet?"

"Allura just located it. There's a bit of good news and bad news. The good news is, the Red Lion's nearby. The bad news is, it's on board that Galra ship now orbiting Arus. But wait, good news again. We're Arus!"

"Who will get the Red Lion?" Pidge asks and a silence passes. Without a fifth paladin, it would be harder to extract the Red Lion from the hull of the Galra ship, let alone near impossible. Allura once again winces, trying to think of a way.

"I will." Lance says, feeling a tug on his heartstrings like he has felt for a while. It comes from Blue, yes, but it also feels far too stretched thin to be just her.

"What?" Everyone sounds out. "Can that even be possible?" Pidge asks, turning to Allura.

"No. While the Lions may take on a new paladin, I've never heard of one paladin controlling both lions."

"We don't have any other choice. We have to try." Lance says, urging. Allura's jaw tightens and he sees her thinking.

"Alright. Let's suit up, then."

"The bayard is the traditional weapon of the Paladins of Voltron. It takes a distinct shape for each paladin… Shiro, I'm afraid your bayard was lost with its paladin."

Lance overhears, and he glances at the red bayard still precariously perched on the table. Letting his own bayard dematerialize into his armor, he steps over to it while they chat. He spares another cautious glance to them before picking it up, turning it over, and he gasps as it activates, startling him enough that he nearly drops it in his wake.

"Whoa,"

A sword is not Lance's choice of weapon. But he can see how it would be Keith's. He could see that lithe form charging, pivoting on his feet and swinging his arm to slash at a sentry.

"How.. how did you do that?" Allura asks, cautious, wondrous, and slightly accusatory. Lance looks up at her only after he was done staring at the red lines of the sword.

"I don't know." He answers truthfully. And it was true. Half the things he does now, or that he knows about anything, he truly has so clue how or why he knows or why he does it, just that it needs to be done.

Planning on how to get the Red Lion took just a tad longer than they thought it would. After all, being one short a paladin put a damper on the universe's plans for easy success.

"How are we gonna know where the Red Lion is?"

"You know how you felt that crazy energy while we were in the desert?"

"Yeah. You made fun of me for that." Keith pouts. He swears he pouts.

"And I'm proud of that, but turns out it's exactly like that mumbo-jumbo."

The tricky part is, The Galra empire knows that they have the Blue and Yellow Lions. If they had a fifth paladin, it would have been easy to use Lance and Hunk as a diversion while the other three take Green, along with her cloaking shield, to sneak into the ship and track down the Red Lion where then, Keith— the fifth paladin, would take and pilot Red.

Luckily, Pidge was able to install something into Blue that would let Allura control her remotely from the castle-ship for a short amount of time. It wasn't ideal, but it was the best plan they had. They didn't seem too keen on the plan, though, because it left a lot of open space for error and of course, without a fifth pilot, they couldn't form Voltron.

Lance nods in agreement to Shiro's order to split up and he bites his lip, because he couldn't really sense Red like he sensed Blue, her presence like a slow sizzle against his skin, but not hot enough to burn. He ducks and turns behind walls from the sentries.

Frustration was building up inside him. His breaths came in harshly from running around in circles, glaring at the insignia on the wall with such distaste at seeing it for the third time.

Red.

Lance catches his breath as he finally gets to door where she was kept, feeling the static in his veins start to move, the yells of Hunk and Allura in his helmet requesting backup.

Red.

The door slides open and he steps in to the empty cargo room, taking a few steps before gathering the courage to glance up at the war ship, hanging ominously and unactivated in its honeycomb shield.

Red.

Lance sucks in a breath, suddenly feeling too much and simultaneously nothing at all.

"Open up. It's me. Keith. Your buddy. It's me! Keith, your - I am your paladin!" Keith huffs in frustration. "I'm bonding with you! Hey! Come on! We're connected!"

Eyes wet, he told himself to move. He was out in the open, exposed to any and all attacks. But he couldn't.

Red, he tries one more time, desperate with longing.

The doors slide open behind him and he hears the sentries fire their lasers, narrowly missing his armor and all at once it was like he was hit by a comet—

Lance hardly remembers what happened. The lions disbanded, the others getting out of their lions and meeting Allura and Coran for a cheerful good job and amazement at how it actually worked out. Sendak was defeated, his ship burned and exploded beyond the horizon.

It was only Lance, then, that hadn't joined them in their celebratory victory of the impossible.

Shaking hands gripped Red's joysticks, wavering eyes could barely make out the dashboard and its buttons. There was a soft, gentle, and pleading murmur just beneath his quiet mind. He couldn't decipher what the voice was saying, quiet and underlapping his own blank mind as it were, but he knew what it was saying. The words, ineffable, built up tension in his throat and he suppresses a sob, clutching at the joysticks harder.

Sucking in a breath, Lance nearly choked, finding it hard to breathe as he stands, grabbing his helmet and throwing it harshly to the ground. It wasn't the helmet forbidding him to breathe, no. He sucks in more desperate breaths as he pulled the armor off and disposed of it carelessly to the floor like his helmet. The belt, arm, and chest plates all met the same fate until Lance sank to his knees. His skin felt like it was burning from the inside out, emotions dying to crawl out and take form.

The others have quieted, worried murmurs heard from the helmet discarded a few feet away.

Lance rips off the upper paladin skins, doubling over and clawing at his neck.

He couldn't think, he couldn't talk, he couldn't breathe, and Lance realized this was exactly how he felt when he had first woken up in that dreaded hospital, feeling like he was carrying the weight of the world upon his shoulders.

Tear drops plonked onto the floor beneath him, unable to keep them in any longer as he let himself just feel.

Feel the death of Keith for a second, third, forth, time in a row.

Red's purrs, both distant and yet so close to his mental consciousness that he feels it in his very soul, both settle and disturb him, tearing him in two.

You're not him, he hears and through his emotions and attempts at breathing he shook his head, "No, I'm sorry.. I'm so sorry."

He's gone. I'm not him, he's gone. I'm so sorry— so sorry…

Lance could faintly hear the worried voices of his teammates but he couldn't find it in himself to let them know he's okay— because he's not. He doesn't feel the guilt of worrying them, either.

I'm not him. Sorry, so sorry…

The feeling of emptiness in his chest made him wonder if Red had withdrawn completely. If Blue had left him, too. The feeling pulled him down— just down, down, down into the space between who he is and who he was, who he was meant to be, who Red and Blue were and where Keith was meant to be between them.

When he finally awoke, the first thing he realized was just how cold the air around him was. The second most obvious thing was just how sore his entire body had become from staying in the fetal position, legs numb.

Lance's eyes stung something fierce and he picks his heavy hand up to rub at it, wincing at the tug of his eyelashes that caught on dried tears. He was still in Red's cockpit, still and silent as she were. There were some muffled noise coming from outside, but with Red's dashboard turned off, he couldn't tell what it was. For all he knew, he was being attacked and he couldn't muster up the strength to care.

He felt hallowed out, not for the first time, and he thinks not for the last time, either.

They're waiting for you, Paladin.

Lance takes a breath, feeling the knot at his throat haven been loosened between the time he fell into the ether and the time he woke. It hurt, like he had screamed it raw. He probably had.

He notices, at least, that Red has no longer kept her presence from his mind and he wipes some tears that come from the feeling of relief that she had not rejected him for not being the right paladin. Lance is not sure if he would have been able to do that.

"Red…" He says quietly into the dimly lit cockpit, red light dancing across his skin.

They are worried about you. She says, gentle and inquiring but she does not push, does not kick him out and he hears the clanking around Red like they were trying to find a way to get inside, get Lance out from where he might've been trapped in. Lance feels like if he leaves— if he leaves, Red wouldn't let him back in. He doesn't have to voice his concern for Red to understand and he feels a brush of heat across his mind.

Gentle. Comforting. Loving.

Another stray tear makes its way down his already tear-stained cheeks and he wipes it off as he stands, still half dressed in his paladin armor. He slides on the shirt underskin, wobbling lightly on his feet as Red finally lowers her head and opens her jaw. Lance takes another shaky breath, expelling all thought from his mind like how was he going to explain what happened, if he was okay.

Jarring footsteps could be heard from the ramp until Hunk burst through the open sliding doors.

"Lance!" He yells, worried and relieved to see Lance alive and not dead. Lance gives a shaky smile in return as Hunk comes and crushes him in a hug.

"What happened?" Shiro asks, ever the serious and studious leader, but Lance could hear the worry in his voice as well. Lance clears his throat and rubs at his eyes again, no doubt red.

"So, heard we won. Did you celebrate without me?" He asks, trying to get back into his own peppy beat. Hunk sets him down and stares at him, all serious, pausing at what a wreck Lance looked like.

"Lance…" Lance shook his head.

"Can we just… not?" He takes a breath and sighs it out. Come back to me, Red says gently. Settle and come back. "Just not.. Not right now." Shiro looked ready to argue but Hunk stops him and nods.

"Yeah. Let's just. Go, yeah? Let's relax with the others."

After finally getting settled into his room and into his clothes after a shower, Lance felt the apprehension of seeing Red again. He had no idea what to do, no idea what to think, how to act or feel. He was just.. Lost. Even more lost when Keith had first been gone. At least then, he had been able to have Hunk tell him which direction he should go, now he doesn't even think Hunk would know.

Red's bunker had become his place of comfort, more than the first time. He doesn't stay in his room, cold and alone and seemingly unforgiving and uninviting as it is. He lays in the bed and picks at his scabs, letting the rumbling purr ease his worries.

Lance looks up at Red, seeing her for the first time since he left. Her form was hulking and daunting but the presence in his mind was anything but. He walks up the ramp and to the cockpit, eyes falling to the left wall, lined with a red line much like how Blue had. Without preamble, he touches a space on the wall that opens to the bunker's compartment and he slides in, head first, into the small space.

It wasn't like he had to make himself small to fit into the bunker. It was just wide and tall enough that he didn't feel like he was squished into a coffin, even if his arms couldn't stretch out to the sides of him.

But he could see Keith, small, tight coiled muscles, crunching up close together under the blankets for comfort. He could hear the rumble of Red's voice in his mind, a soothing melody to his shattered heart.

I miss him… He thinks to Red in his headspace. And even though Red has never met Keith, she responds, sounding about as filled with desperation and longing as Lance feels.

I miss him, too.

Keith was heaving sobs, shaking his head as he tries to calm down. It doesn't work, and Lance hugs him, letting him cry into his chest until he finally deems himself out of tears and could speak.

"Mammon," Keith murmurs, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. Lance tilts his head in confusion, urging him to go on with a look without having to ask, who is Mammon?

"The first person I ever killed… his name was Mammon." His voice cracked and he took another steadying breath and Lance has not said a word since Keith started to explain, even though he wanted to ask: who was he? How do you know his name? Where was this? When was this?

"You know.. When we got separated.. By the wormhole. I fell into a Galra-controlled territory." Lance gulps, pursing his lips. This was the first time hearing this. The first time Keith ever deemed to talk about what had happened to him during their separation. Keith had taken the longest to track down, and the last to be tracked down. "The first time, I was so scared. Red didn't wake up for days— I didn't think I could survive. And then— one day.. One day I went out to scout.."

Lance rubs his arm, kissing his head momentarily to let him know he was listening, this wasn't falling on deaf ears. Sucking in another shaky breath, Keith continues.

"We just.. We ran into each other, by accident. He reached for his belt and I just— I didn't think. I just acted. I knew I wouldn't get out alive if he called for backup. Red was barely working, you guys hadn't found me yet… It was me or him. And it just— it just…" He tapers off and takes another breath.

"The second time, I wasn't prepared for it. I didn't think I would end up in the same place twice, two seperate times. I didn't have to kill him then, but I did. I— I understood him, when he spoke. I-I could feel his energy, his life essence. I could see his past. I-I—" Keith breaks into another bout of tears and Lance's heart breaks for him double-time. "H-he had a son.. A-and a spouse. A-a-and h-he was supposed to go see him the week after."

"And I killed him, I killed him…"

"What? No! We are not going to try and find a replacement for Red." Lance glares, irritation flaring up even though they had a valid point: they needed a fifth paladin so they could form Voltron. They weren't always going to get away with what they did the first time. But still, he feels Red growl in hostility to anyone who would dare even try.

"Lance, we understand what you're feeling," Allura starts even though it's absolute bullshit. "But we can't keep just having four paladins! The first time was a fluke! We even tried recreating it, and it didn't work! We can't possibly save the universe like that!"

Lance grits his teeth against what he knows is true, too. They had tried forming Voltron with Lance piloting Blue and Red being controlled, but no luck. Red didn't even want to try forming if Lance was at the helm and Blue was being piloted.

We can't fly like that, she said. It's too hollow and empty.

Colors brushed up against his mind and he closed his eyes, frowning. When he opens his eyes, they're set with determination.

"I will pilot Red."

"Great job," Pidge says sarcastically. "But now we have a dilemma about who will pilot Blue."

"Allura will pilot Blue." Allura's startles at that, eyes wide.

"What? I can't possibly do that!"

"You have to. They won't accept anyone else. They won't accept a stranger."

"Then who's gonna fly the ship?"

"You can figure that out yourself. Allura's lifeforce may be intertwined with the caste-ship, but it's not like it rejects people for not having certain attributes." Lance reasons. "Just—" Lance sighs. "Just give it a shot, alright?"

Allura purses her lips, and against Coran's wishes she doesn't do that, she nods, "alright."

Learning how to work together did not come easy for them, especially when Lance either acted like an idiot to lighten the mood, or when he just… blanked out. When he stared, unseeing, ahead of him. He had been made to relinquish the blue bayard to Allura, for good reason, but he had been hesitant to part with it.

Following the tugs on his mind, as clear as day and he thinks for a moment if the others have this. But he knows, no, they do not. They don't feel the things he does as the lions speak to him, don't hear the conflict and the conversation.

Lance looks up at Blue, no less intimidating than Red's form was, and when he closes his eyes all he sees is blue. Blue light, blue feeling, blue emotions.

But I don't want to, he tells her, and she urges him, you have to.

Lance stares and stares and stares at her face. Memorizes the lines of her jaw, not all that dissimilar to Red's, the shade of her blue, the color of her presence in his mind.

I will still be here.

Lance closes his eyes despite the fact that his closing his eyes wouldn't stop him from seeing their plan unfold. He understands, he does. But..

I will still be with you.

Lance opens his eyes, taking a breath and nodding. Blue lowers her head and he presses his forehead against her metal jaw.

It's for the best, he thinks. It really is. There was only ever one Red Paladin, and there should only be one. Red wouldn't accept another paladin even if they did find someone worthy (of which there was only two, she said, and only one available).

They had been right to decide to choose Lance as Red's paladin, for multiple reasons. The biggest reason was for Lance's own selfish comfort. And he supposes, Red's own selfish comfort as well.

Red fills a void that had been left when Keith died, like a small part has come back. Like that space in his mind where he started and began, and where Red started and began, and where Keith was supposed to be, seemed a little less spacious. He could reach out and touch the red he sees, relax against a steady mind, hear encouragement from her, sounding so much like Keith that at first, it was hard.

But now it was nice, having someone there. Having someone who knew what he was going through and was overcoming the same thing. He has yet to question how she knew Keith was supposed to be there, how he was supposed to be her pilot. But then again, he never stops to think why he feels that way too.

The dreams keep coming, when he wasn't exhausted from training and liberating planets. It came in snippets and sometimes full days.

"Lance," Keith keeps his gaze forward, but his eyes flick to the corner. "You're staring again." He doesn't seem peeved and Lance could only mumble an apology before looking away, eyes sliding back to Keith after an appropriate amount of time passed by.

Lance had been hoping, that when his eyes opened, that he would be in bed back at the Garrison and that Keith was still asleep next to him. Of course, he had also forgotten what it was they had been doing before. So when his first thought was to cuss at the pain radiating through his body, groaning loudly as he opens his eyes. There was silence in his head and he furrowed his brow.

There was never silence in his head.

"Keith...are you okay? You haven't said a word since we got you back." Keith nods, jerkily. He doesn't want to talk, barely even wants to think. Wouldn't even know where to start. How could he possibly tell them he feels like he killed his best friend?

The buttons on Red's dash don't work, and neither do the coms and for the first time since Lance had met Red, she was not in his mind. Anxiety shot through him. He had never thought that, that he would be without Red's presence for a second. The realization she was offline was like being dumped in ice water.

The only thing that kept him full-on panicking was that it all seemed so eerily similar, like deja vu.

Lance drags himself out of the chair, muscles sore from being thrown around. When he makes it out of the hatch at her back, the only things he sees is dense foliage.

Fuck…

"Lance," Hunk's voice is filled with worry and Lance has to physically stop himself from flinching. Not that he was scared, or worried, but… He just.. He couldn't get it out of his head.

"I'm sorry," Keith whispers, kneeling down and closing the Galra's eyes closed. "I'm sorry."

Lance has to mind himself not to be snappish and he purses his lips against the harsh what? he feels is ready to escape.

"I know." He says instead. Lance had been lucky they found him when they did. He should talk to somebody, he shouldn't lock himself away. "It's just.. Too soon." and that was actually perfect, that everything was too soon and too fresh and too everything that Lance never once had to ever explain the things he did before and the things he knows and does now.

Everyone is too preoccupied with catching the things coming their way that they don't question him, and if they do, they don't have long to wait for an answer before something is coming their way again.

Lance doesn't really want to talk about the things that happen and things that will or won't. The dreams in and of themselves feel like he was speaking to someone about it. He takes a deep breath.

He could feel Hunk's eyes on him; calculating, worrying, just wanting to break the silence but debating on whether he should wait for Lance to do it or do it himself. Lance takes a deep breath and sighs it out in a giant exhale, feeling his essence crawl the longer Hunk stared at him. The ceiling of the bed no longer held he same distraction as it did at the beginning of this defeating silence.

His and Hunk's occasional sleepovers to talk about things. Their mutual feeling of longing to go back to earth, missing their families… Killing Galra soldiers without remorse, you know, the usual.

Tonight Lance didn't really want to talk, but he knew he had to. He knew the team was frayed at the ends, both from Lance's actions and the series of events that preceded this night.

The dreams he was having were infecting his waking, and he can't even process what he was feeling, because the feelings are also from the dream, sometimes. Lance's fingers twitched where they were folded on his stomach. He could still feel the swing of the blade in his hands, the resistance of skin and bone and muscle against his sword— not his, Keith's. Or dream Keith's, whatever he was.

"The team is worried about you.." Hunk decides, voice trailing off after breaking the silence. Lance finally closes his eyes against the ceiling, sighing.

"I know.."

They stay in another bout of silence, Hunk twiddling his thumbs on top of the pillow he had in his lap as he sat on the floor.

"We'll have to talk about it eventually." Lance heaves another sigh, feeling frustration build.

"I know."

But yet still another round of silence ensues. Hunk opened his mouth to speak again, third time's the charm, he's hoping, when Lance beats him to it.

"I just don't know how to talk about it. What am I supposed to say? How do I say it?" The frustration is clear in his voice as he takes the pillow he was laying on and pulls it from under him, shoving it on top of his face. Maybe if he just hid here he'll cease existing.

".. is it the dreams again?" Lance's sigh is muffled by the pillow. If he sighed any more his happiness will float away.

"Kinda." Lance finally takes a breath and sits up, the pillow falling to his lap.

"We had this talk before.."

"We have. And that's the thing, Hunk. The thing is— they're not dreams. Not for me. It's— it's too real to be a dream. I-I know Pidge is upset about my actions on the battlefield. I know Shiro is worried I've gone crazy. I know Allura is feeling overwhelmed trying to work with Blue, and I know—" Lance takes another breath, gritting his teeth for a moment. "I know how Red feels, without him… without Keith."

"But Keith never met Red, Lance. Keith's not here.." Hunk says quietly and Lance stifled a groan.

"I know, Hunk. I know. Keith isn't here, he wasn't here long before we found Blue. But that's the thing. He was supposed to be here. He was supposed to be with us. It's not just random, scarily realistic dreams. What if he's just stuck in another parallel universe? Waiting for me to save him?"

Hunk stays quiet, thinking over the things he's said.

"Truth is, I'm scared. Of maybe pretty much everything. Of the dreams, of this war and how we'll win. Of whether I'll ever get these feelings and nightmares to stop. I'm scared to activate my bayard and shoot, because then I might get another flash of alternate reality and come out of the fight bloodied like I was Carrie at prom." Lance pulls at the corner of the pillow. "But it's like, sometimes I feel I move on autopilot. Sometimes the flash doesn't completely cover my sight. Sometimes it just puts a halo on it, and it kind of makes sense what I was doing or what I did."

Lance bites at his lower lip.

"Other than that, tell them I'm good. I'm fine. Or as fine as anyone could get being thrown into a ten thousand year war." He quirks a grin, shrugging a shoulder.

"Lance, how did you do that?" Allura asks from his right. Lance blinks and stares at a newly healed Pidge, blood soaked in their suit as they sit up and stare down in wonder.

"I— I'm not sure.."

Truthfully, Lance doesn't remember what he did. Doesn't remember why, either, except that he remembers watching Keith grab a few containers of refined quintessence when they were at the Galra base, and he remembers after that he watched as Keith healed Pidge from the shot they took from the robobeast. He could vaguely remember moving in the same fashion that Keith moved along the base, grabbing a container, dipped his hand into the liquid and putting a hand over Pidge's heart.

"How can you not be sure? That was amazing!"

It was that stunt, the one he didn't know what he did, that got him shoved into a pod and scanned, everyone curious and excited about a possible new power he'd discovered. He was caught as he fell out, still cold even though there was no cryo-healing. Everyone gathered around a tablet after Lance redressed in his signature clothes.

Lance looked from their faces, to the tablet, seeing faces shocked and confused, turning grim and he grabbed the tablet to read himself. His jaw drops just a bit, reading over the red highlighted part, switching every so often.

Human.

Galra.

Human.

Galra.

Now he was confused, because Lance had never been Galra, never had Galra heritage, never had anything Galra and he doubts his mother had kept something like this from him.

"How can that be?"

The voices around him are speaking over each other, each raising a notch higher with every changed speaker. The only thing Lance could do was stare at the scar on his finger. It almost seemed like the burn mark was growing, but that could also be Lance's imagination.

"How can he be Galra and not be Galra at the same time?" Pidge asks, voice strung with emotion. "I don't think your machine is working correctly, Coran."

The Galra soldier stares at him in surprise, jaw dropped. He hadn't expected to come across anything, let alone anyone.

"Hybrid…?"

Lance could see it now. Keith, stranded from the corrupted wormhole, in his Paladin underskins, his eyes were golden, his skin smattered in purple like someone had taken a paint brush and drew across his face. His color never did fully come in until later.

Mammon gasps, breaking out of his train of thought to grab at the communicator at his waist and Keith attacked—

"It's Keith."

Lance spoke so quietly he wondered how anyone heard him. Hunk looks to him, brows furrowed.

"Lance…" he starts, as if warning him to not speak about this.

"Keith?" Pidge asks, confusion marring their features. "Are you talking about that kid that got killed by the simulator malfunction? What the hell does he have anything to do with you being Galra?" They scoff, eyes narrowed and ready for a fight, verbal or otherwise.

"Keith..? Keith Kogane?" Shiro asks, voice getting quieter and Lance could practically see his thoughts on his face. It has been a year and a half since they saved him and got thrown into this war, and not once since then has Shiro ever asked about Keith, despite how close they were. Despite how important they were to one another.

The only reason Lance knows this is because of those dreams.

"Keith.. he's dead?" Shiro's voice cracks and it causes Pidge to deflate slightly, surprised at such a change. Hunk looks like he doesn't want to answer, so Lance helps him.

"Yeah," Lance's voice was hoarse. It didn't get any easier to speak about it, no matter how much time has passed. "At least, he's not here with us.. but I don't think he's dead." Lance keeps his eyes on the so-called burn mark. "Keith." He pauses, working around the worlds in his head. He could properly name it now, what the Keith in his dreams looked like. He wasn't just purple-skinned with cat ears, or a bat with bright yellow eyes.

Keith was Galra.

Lance looks up, catching Shiro's waiting gaze, meeting his own confident, serious, and determined one.

"Keith is Galra."

"Lance." Hunk stage whispers while the others, minus the Alteans, looked like he was crazy.

"Keith's not here, how can he be anything?" Pidge folds their hands. Their mind too wrapped up in everything the Galra have ever done against her and her family.

Lance wasn't going to shy away from this, pain of rejection and isolation be damned. He raises his hand, showing them what they already knew he had.

"Lance," Shiro says, devastated and too tired for games.

"I got this the day the simulator exploded." He starts, bringing it closer to himself again, eyes on it. "I was near him. I literally touched him before it exploded. And yet.. I'm here, I'm alive, with barely this non-existent scar that isn't even a burn mark." Lance looks up at them again, serious. "I should be dead. Everyone that was in that room should be dead. They couldn't even find his body!

"So why is it, that if it exploded so hot that they couldn't even find his body because it was incinerated, why is it that I, Lance, got out with barely a scar?"

"That's—"

"I was right next to him, Pidge. Not ten feet away, not outside of the simulator. Right next to him. I caught his arm with this finger, and suffered a brunt of the blast."

Lance let everything soak into their minds, eyes flitting to each person in the pod room. Pidge looked stumped, unable to rationalize Lance being alive after a blast. Shiro just looked confused, unsure where Lance was going with this. The Alteans looked baffled, Allura's hatred and biased against Galra momentarily stunted while Coran was still trying to figure out if the equipment used to scan Lance was working correctly or not.

"Keith is Galra." Lance says again, just to solidify his own belief in his conclusion. "Keith was supposed to be alive. He was supposed to be a lot of things." Like be with me. Lance takes a breath.

"I have these… dreams." He starts, glancing at Hunk and he shrugs. Cat's out of the bag now. "And they feel so real. A lot of them involve Keith. Most of them involve Keith." Lance takes a steadying breath. "And they involve you, too." He looks around at everyone.

"Is that why you said, when we first went through the wormhole past Kerberos, that is was our destiny?"

"Keith said it, actually." The silence was defeating.

"So.. so, if what you're saying is true.. were we not supposed to be here at all?" Pidge's voice was small as they asked. Lance had thought about that for many months. Idly thinking that had he not grabbed hold of Keith that last second, none of them would be here— literally. The entire universe could have been wiped out. There would be no Lance, no Hunk, no Voltron, no Galra, nothing. He could've saved himself from heartbreak by just not trying to be a hero.

"That's what I'm thinking, yeah." Lance looks at the scar again, and he swears it grows infinitesimally larger as each day goes by. "The Keith in my dreams, he's Galra. He.. I don't think he starts out Galra. Obviously. Because he wasn't Galra back on earth. But he can wield magic. He can.." Lance thinks, trying to remember. "He has these marks. Kind of like yours," he looks to Allura, tapping at his cheek. "But they're deformed somehow and they stretch down his cheeks.

"I've had some pretty contradictory dreams. Like, during the same month we saved Matt, Keith almost died. I don't know how I know that it was in the same month, just that it feels like that's what happened.

"I'm not asking you to believe me. I know it sounds crazy; I sound crazy. But it's the truth. It's what I believe. Keith's alive. Not with us, but alive in some alternate universe, with alternate universe us's… I don't even know if these dreams are a way of him trying to communicate with us— me, or anything. I think that's just a byproduct, of touching him before the blast. Like he has some sort of weirdly specific energy or something that let us live because of that interaction."

"You said that scar, you got in the blast?" Pidge asks, frowning. Lance nods, finally letting his hand fall from staring at it. "The pod scans you're whole body, what if we modify it to scan only a part?"

It was almost.. Relieving to finally put things into perspective. He had his feet propped up by the foot of Red's bunker, tapping away on his belly with his fingers.

"Did you know?" He asks into the silence, not as deafening as he had once heard it.

No. Lance inclines to believe her. I had just felt.. Something. But when you showed up, you were not the one who was mine. Lance nods, blinking against memorizing the lines of the bunker ceiling.

"Yeah. I get it." Like when he bumped into Keith after being dumped. How he seemed like a fundamentally different person than who he had class with that morning. It was not his universe's Keith.

The Keith he met.. The strange, soft, small, quiet boy he knocked into was the first Keith. The first one. The one it took years to get together with. The one who took on everything alone: the fighting, the killing, protecting the team. The first one, who seemed to go through years of war, only to do it again with the knowledge he had already done it, wondering if he would have to repeat it all again. The one who had gotten together with Lance all the previous times, and thought, just for a moment, he could have it again, and maybe even hope that it would be the last fight.

Lance hopes the Keith he had come to know and love was safe. That he, the Lance who was with him, gave him the love and support Keith deserves, and the love and support he could never give.

It scares him a little. The unknown. He could tell the end was near. It was a feeling, a static dancing across his skin. The trepidation building up in his chest. It wasn't his own, he was sure. At least, not all fully his own. Occasionally he did get these bouts of emotions, completely unrelated to what he was doing. Now that he's come to term with them, he can more easily decipher if it were him or not.

They were wrapped up in each other, under the blankets, attempting to sleep. They weren't up to anything sexy, neither feeling particularly up to the task while they waiting for the alarm despite knowing no one else could sleep either. It gave them the illusion of privacy, at least.

Keith's nails dig into his skin at his back, hugging him closer and Lance obliges, even when there was no more room to scoot closer. They haven't said anything, and they probably won't either. But that was okay. Everything that has needed to be said, has been said.

Keith looks down from where Lance's head was cradled against his chest and Lance glances up, catching his gaze, the tension of his jawline and he kissed at it in a silent plea for him to stop gritting his teeth.

We can get through this, he wants to say.

Keith sighs, barely loosening up and Lance smiles, pressing gentle, unhurried kisses from his cheek to his lips. Keith smiles, just barely, and kisses back, falling into the sweet affection.

Lance knows what he is thinking.

What will happen tomorrow? Will I get sent back again, despite all my best efforts? What will I do, if I have to keep reliving everything over, and over, and over, and over again? I can't, Lance. I can't keep doing it. I wouldn't be able to live with the torment of it. It needs to stop tomorrow, no matter the cost.

And even though Lance isn't sure he'd be willing to pay any price, he was going to give Keith his full support.

It was a lot more chaotic than it had been in his dream. Drones flying all about, Galra cruisers hyper-jumping and lining themselves up for the battle of the universe.

"We can do this." Lance murmurs in his ear, his voice is sure. "Last time, right?"

"This ends today." Keith is talking about the time jumps, living life over and over again. He knows Haggar's secret and he will stop her.

"Team, get to your lions." Allura's voice rang out.

Keith looks around, locks eyes with the rest. They weren't ready. They never were. But as he locks eyes with Lance, he feels determination overcoming the gnawing feeling of failure and he was ready. The same expression reflected in Lance's eyes. The fear was still there, twinkling in his eyes. But Lance was ready too. Ready to end this, as Keith had said, to end everything.

Lance stares across the expanse of space, debris from broken craft floating like litter in an ocean. Red has locked onto Haggar's position, even though Lance could do nothing against her, not against her magic. But he knows, this is where he needs to be.

I'll come back to you, Lance. I promise.

Lance smiles, if not a little sadly. This was really the end, wasn't it? He glances down at his hand and takes a moment to take off his glove.

The burn was spreading.

It was spreading, slowly but surely. Like a piece of burning paper, it sizzled away at his dark skin, but amazingly it didn't hurt.

Honestly, it felt as though he was finally becoming whole.

Lance takes a breath, steadying nerves as he sees Haggar's magic flaring up from the wing she was in at Galra Central Command.

Heat built up in him, and the burn bleeds into him faster, dipping under the sleeve of his armor until he soon feels it at his throat. He doesn't need to look in the mirror to see the mauve tint sparking at his neck.

It just builds and builds and builds. The heat was warm, starting to burn hotter and Lance was sure it will soon be blazing and it feels as if he were a star about to go supernova; destroy everything.

Red. Blue. Hunk.

Everyone and everything and oddly enough, he felt at peace with it, despite all the yelling and screaming in his ear.

The heat prickled at his eyes. It expanded past his skin, but nothing started to burn around him. The light was becoming brighter, sharper, and he could tell the stark contrast between Haggar's magic and Keith's own. It enveloped everything, until not even Red's presence was felt in his mind.

Keith's voice echoed in his mind, I'll come back to you, Lance. I promise.

As the light overpowers everything, the faint outline he had last seen of his being, and the heat becomes unbearable (or it should have been unbearable, except the only thing Lance felt was peace), Lance felt himself smile. The peace he felt, he had felt before. On the few momentous occasions when Keith was by his side and they'd watch movies, or when Lance nearly kissed him. He had been nervous, but not unsure; the peace he felt at Keith just being near.. This was it. That feeling, more than anything, more than the heat and the burning, was what he felt in the moment.

So, Lance felt himself smile, even as his life ends. Even as he feels his consciousness burning away, as his mind pixelated, on the fringes of just barely hanging on, he smiles, and then he lets go.

Welcome back.

Atlas: Atlas and his brother Menoetius sided with the Titans in their war against the Olympians. When the Titans were defeated, many of them were confined to Tartarus, but Zeus condemned Atlas to stand at the western edge of Gaia (the Earth) and hold up the sky on his shoulders.

A/N: As it is confusing, I feel as though I also need to explain a little. When I had first started writing Kosmonaut, I had no intention of writing this spin-off of Apollo 13. At first, the entire universe was just going to be destroyed. But then, after the last few seasons of Voltron came out and I had an idea, and ya'll can thank Derrierebender via AO3 for this piece of unintelligible angst. (I'm sorry, I'm technology-challenged and don't know how to link people.) So, yes, the timeline was not supposed to exist. Lance and everyone else should have been gone when Keith was, or the rest of the timeline was. However, because Lance did manage to catch Keith's jacket, the world was actually saved. The "burn" was actually a product of Keith's magic that kept the timeline alive after Keith was gone. It was also what allowed Lance the dreams, coming from all timelines, not just Cassini.

That being said, this does have a lot of time skips, mostly because I wouldn't know what to shove in them without ruining the flow, and also because that's Lance's mind. That also said, this entire thing is just angst, and at the end, when the final battle happens, Keith's magic does, in fact, destroy Lance's timeline (and in fact, it could attribute the extra energy Keith needed to push through Haggar's magic, actually allowing him to win). So Lance doesn't really get a happy ending here, but since they're no longer there, they don't know they don't get to live, if that makes sense.

Lance says welcome back at the end because Keith told him he'd be back, and because, technically, Lance disappearing with the timeline back to Keith, he thought he'd welcome him first.

If you have any questions, because this is confusing, ask away and I will try my best to answer them.

Also, yes, New Horizons will get an epilogue, but at the moment it's up in the air about when that will be.
¯\_(ツ)_/¯ So, there might also be another addition to Kosmonaut, called Voyager, based off of Matt.: Also no clue when that will be.