Five minutes.

Lance's alarm had been blaring for a full five minutes before he could summon the energy to turn it off. The early morning sun was barely peaking over the mountains of the desert. It was a clear dawn outside, but to Lance, it felt like the time was still the middle of the night. Because he didn't sleep. For twelve hours straight, he had just been looking up at the ceiling of his bedroom, listening to the hum of the ceiling fan that swirled the warm air around the room. His eyes felt heavy and fatigued from the days of prolonged sleep.

He can't exactly remember the start of his insomnia. It just happened suddenly. At first, he thought it was the constant tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable under the sheets. But whenever he closed his eyes and started to drift, the nightmares started up. Flashes of violent images that haunted his mind daily turned real in his sleeping state. Lance would wake up in a sweat, screaming, and causing his siblings to rush into his room to see if he was okay because his mother wasn't home. Night after endless night, this would happen. Weeks went by until he realized that he wasn't asleep anymore and he was just staring into the dark void of his bedroom walls. He felt better knowing he wasn't a nuisance to his family, even though the result was lack of sleep.

A month went by and sleepless nights became the norm. Every now and again he was able to get a few undisturbed hours, but those were rare and far apart when they did come. Last night was not one of them. Lance groggily sat up in his bed. Blindly reaching out into the darkness of his bedroom, he found his alarm clock on his bedside table and turned off the annoying beeps. He swung his feet out from under his blankets and placed them on the cool tile floor. He groaned, dragging himself away from the comforting warmth of his blankets. Rays of sunlight peeked inside from the holes in his window shades. Lance sighed as he grabbed a fresh pair of jeans and a blue, long-sleeved t-shirt from is closet. He winced slightly, trying to ignore the pain he felt in his aching muscles when he raised his arms over his head.

Once he was dressed, he pulled his shoes onto his feet and stumbled into the hallway. His older siblings had already woken up and left the house, leaving Lance all alone once again. As soon as he entered the living room, he heard a car outside and a horn honking impatiently. He glanced out the window to see a yellow jeep parked in his driveway. He rolled his eyes. Grabbing his green army jacket off the hook next to the front door, he ran outside to meet his friends.

"Come on, Lance. Could you be any slower?" An aggressive but soft toned voice yelled from the passenger window. A short girl with shortcut light brown hair was hanging out the side of the jeep. Her round glasses slid down the bridge of her nose reviling golden hazel eyes. Her small frame was hidden by a baggy green t-shirt that looked like a hand-me-down from her older brother paired with khaki cargo shorts and high tops.

"Calm down, Pidge. It's not like we're running late, or anything," Lance groaned as he jumped into the backseat.

"Don't worry about her. You know how she gets," the driver chimed in. He was a bigger young man with dark skin and hair with an orange bandana tied around his head. He wore a faded yellow shirt, a green vest, and brown jeans with army boots. Hunk had always been the larger of his friend group. Though his size made him look scary and tough, he was a teddy bear on the inside. Lance had only known the two of his friends for a couple months, but he felt like he's known them all his life.

Lance sighed and rested his arms on the open window. His chin pressed against his hands as the early morning desert wind bit against his skin. He drifted off into thought as the bickering voices of his friends faded off into the distance of his mind. His mind wondered with memories of his home back in Cuba. Year, life there was hard, but it was familiar to him. But there was no way he could go back. He didn't even know if he wanted to go back after the incident. He wouldn't let himself think of that. The thought alone brought a numbing pain to his entire body. Lance searched for other memories to think of to pass the time. He thought of the white crystal sand beaches that he would spend the summer on. He and his siblings enjoying the day together and not worrying about where they had to be and how to get by.

He missed those days. He wished he could have them back.

But he missed it all up.

The short car ride ended in the parking lot of their school. The Galaxy Garrison was a form of a military school for gifted and troubled youths. Personally, Lance would never admit that he himself was either of those things. He didn't think he was gifted, though his grade point average would argue that for him. And he was in denial about being considered as a troubled youth. His friends, on the other hand, made the mark on almost all the requirements to be in the Galaxy Garrison. Pidge, being the tech genius that she is, could code an entire space shuttle by herself if she wanted to. The problem with that is that she also gets bored easily with classes and the restrictions the Garrison has on computer programing. She has been known to hack into the servers and program the speakers in the hallways to start blasting mid-90s R&B and then hiding with her laptop in the second-floor girls' bathroom as she watches security try to find her on the cameras. This stunt got her a full month in after-school detention. Which she said was "Totally worth it".

Hunk was the one of them that was there because he was gifted and not troubled. He had a great family, grades, ambitions, and a bright future ahead of him in the engineering department of the Garrison. He was the friendliest guy in school. He could make friends with anyone. But despite his friendliness, Hunk was protective over his friends. Hunk would not pass up the opportunity to defend Lance or Pidge if the time came, no matter how much Pidge protests that she can take care of herself.

Lance groaned as he hopped out of the back seat and slung his bag over his shoulder. The morning bell hadn't rung yet, so most of the students gathered in the courtyard on the other side of the parking lot. Pidge, Hunk, and Lance climbed the cobblestone steps, up to the patio of the building. Hunk and Pidge were rambling on about a project they were working on outside of school. It's not that Lance wasn't interested in the discussion. The lack of sleep and the anxiety he's been experiencing has had him distracted. As the seconds ticked by, Lance became fidgety. He scratched at his arms but kept them hidden under his jacket. His forearms burned like they were set on fire by an invisible flame. He shook his head and prayed for a distraction to get his mind off his current problem.

The roar of a motorbike entered the parking lot, disturbing the mellow atmosphere of the courtyard. Students glanced towards the cooperate and groaned when they saw how had upset their morning rituals. Lances breath caught in his throat. This happened every day and he still ends up with the same reaction. A red motorcycle drifted into its usual spot at the back of the parking lot. The rider was still straddled over the bike. The sound of the engine had stopped by now, but small groups of students still held glares towards the lot. A white and red helmet hid his face, but Lance knew who it was. His face haunted the few good dreams he had. Lance sighed heavily through his nose was the rider began to remove his helmet.

The pale face of a young man emerged from the confinement of the covering. Long, inky black hair cascaded over his pale face and past his neck. His intense eyes were so dark that they were closer to violet than blue. Like Lance, the boy also wore a jacket. His was red and white with long sleeves and ended at his waist. He wore a black t-shirt and jeans with biker boots. Though he couldn't see it from his position, Lance knew the boy had a small scar on his right cheek; the only imperfection on an otherwise perfect face. A small smile graced Lance's face as he watched the attractive young man organize his bag and grab his helmet from where he placed them on the handlebars of his bike. A slight panic rose in Lance's chest when he realized two things. That he was staring, again, and that the boy was walking through the parking lot, straight for them.

Pidge nudged him with her elbow with a smirk on her face. "Hey, earth to Lance?"

Lance blinked. "Yeah?"

"You're staring at Keith again."

Lance scoffed. "What? No, I am not." The blush that crept onto his cheeks gave him away.

Keith ascended the steps of the school. Lance's heart rate quickened as he got closer. Keith glanced at the group of friends that gathered along the railing. He gave a slight grin to Pidge and Hunk as a friendly greeting. But when he passed Lance his smile grew a little wider and he slowed his steps. Lance's nerves tensed his muscles and the only thing he could think of to do was to twiddle his fingers in a small wave with the hand that gripped the strap of his school bag. To his surprise Keith returned the gesture, making Lance's heart sore and his mind boggling. He watched Keith continue his route into the school and close the heavy glass door behind him.

Lance released a heavy breath that he didn't know he was holding and cradled his head in his hands. He turned to his friends, who were smirking at his expense.

"Did I say anything stupid?" his voice rippled with concern for his ego.

Hunk and Pidge burst out in laughter. The blush on Lance's cheeks wasn't going away any time soon. He hung his head and groaned. He slumped towards the doors of the school as the morning bell rang signaling for the students to get ready for class. Piercing white glared in Lance's eyes as they adjusted to the changing light of the bright desert sun to the fluorescent glow of the hallways. Silver lockers lined the walls in parallel rows. Students sluggishly gathered and organized their belonging in the small, narrow compartments. Some students seemed too eager to get to their classes to avoid confrontation with other kids; others chatted and laughed along with their peer groups. Lance rolled his eyes at the groups of boys that pushed each other against the lockers and laughed like idiots. He grimaced. The whole scene played out like a bad teen romance movie that didn't know how to depict an actual high school because it was written by forty-year-old dudes that haven't been in a high school in twenty years and have absolutely no idea how teenagers act.

Hunk and Pidge said their farewells as they departed to separate classrooms. Pidge was a year younger than them, so she climbed the stairs to the upper floors where the underclass lessons were held. But they all had the same lunch period, she would join up with them then. Hunk had engineering, which he made a point to always get there early to get a good seat at the front. Lance had a free period for the first hour of school. He went to his locker to hang his backpack up and take his books out of the pockets. He didn't need them until his second-period stars and galaxies course, but he was buying his time. For his free period, he was required to go to the school psychiatrist.

Lance had been at Galaxy Garrison for about a month and a half now. And according to the school, there was a six-month adjustment period for new students. Though Lance always thought that it was just for the more troubled kids. The psychiatrist, Allura, didn't think that was the case for Lance. She made it a goal to help Lance through his anxieties. She wanted him to talk through the issues he was facing, something he had never done before. Lance nervously rubbed his wrists. Hissing through his teeth when he felt a familiar numbing sting underneath the fabric of his army jacket.

A dark flash flickered in the corner of Lance's eye. He dares not move his head to face the boy just a few rows down. The fact that he sees in his dreams glowed in the heavenly light that shined through an upstairs window. Keith Kogane in all his mullet-haired glory stood in front of his open locker, doing nothing up putting a motorcycle helmet into the cabinet space at the top of the compartment. But Lance couldn't help but watch every movement. Something about Keith made Lance's chest burn, his stomach does backflips, and his heart threatens to beat straight through his sternum. And yet he was mad. Mad at himself for feeling the way he does. Keith was… Keith. And Lance was acting like a school girl with a dumb crush. He remembered feeling this way for a neighborhood boy back in Cuba. The healing bruises on his stomach ached at the memory, forcing him to block out the feelings he was experiencing towards Keith.

He slammed the door to his locker a bit harder than he had intended, earning him a glance in his direction from the one person he was trying to avoid. Lance evaded Keith's gaze as he walked by. But his heart spiraled as he caught a smile and small wave from the silent boy as he passed.

'Why does he have to do that?' Lance thought to himself. 'Why is he making his harder on me?'

He knew it wasn't Keith's fault for his crush. But he couldn't keep himself from blaming him. Dark thoughts began to rise in his head as he walked the halls alone, walking as slow as he could to the office for his meeting with Allura. The voice of a man he was trying to forget echoed in the dark places of his mind. Slurs that were spat at him during his early adolescence. The time when you find out who you are as your own person, sexual desires to experiment with. All taken away from him by a man who was supposed to love him unconditionally, but instead would rather see him perish by his own hand. Not even saying goodbye as they left for the states, leaving him behind with his evil ways.

Lance blinked away the mist in his eyes as he reached Allura's office at the end of the hallway. He sighed heavily before pushing the wooden door open and entering the colorful room. The room was decorated in blues and pinks with a few gold accents on the picture frames. A small couch was placed against the wall next to a cushioned, spinning chair, and a wooden coffee table. Across the room was a simple mahogany desk with Allura's computer and office supplies lain across the surface. A beautiful woman with dark skin and bright eyes sat behind the desk. Her titanium white hair, that was usually down in untamable waves, was tied back in a thick bun on top of her head. Strains of curls framed her face as she looked down at the papers she was writing on.

She looked up with sparkling eyes and smiled at Lance with a friendly feeling. Allura gathered the papers from her desk and filed them in the cabinet behind her. She spun in her chair and used her momentum to push herself out of her office chair.

"Good morning, Lance," she greeted him in her usual cheerful tone. Her accent made Lance feel safe and at peace. "How are you doing today?"

Lance slumped on the couch, his forehead resting in his hands. "Fine," he sighed, trying to sound more energetic than he felt.

"Fine?" Allura questioned. She sat in the chair across from the couch facing Lance. Her hands folded neatly on her lap as she watched Lance with attentive eyes. "How did you sleep last night?"

'Not at all.' "Good," he lied.

Allure snorted. "Just 'fine' and 'good'? Is that all you're going to say today?"

"What do you want me to say, Allura?"

"Lance." Her voice remained calm. "If we're going to make progress on your issues, you're going to have to start being honest with me. Or this whole time is for nothing. Now, did you sleep at all last night?"

Lance avoided her gaze and shook his head.

"Tell me. Why is that?"

He sighed, knowing that he couldn't keep his silence after a month of avoiding the subject of his past. "Every time I close my eyes… I can see him…. Coming at me…. Trying to…. Hurt me." He struggled to get his words out with his dry throat. "I get scared he's going to kill me this time. He gets closer and closer…. And then I wake up. Alone."

Allura nods her head attentively. Her lips perched in a fine line. "So, you're avoiding this man by not sleeping?"

"It's not just that," Lance interrupts. "I sometimes can't sleep at all, no matter how much I try. I'm afraid he'll find my mom and my siblings here. We moved to protect me. I know they resent me for it. I ruined our lives. And I feel guilty for risking theirs by coming here."

"Lance. Is the man in your dreams your father?"

Lance froze at the mention of his father. His ribs ached at the thought of him and he felt sick. A sour look poisoned his face and a dark look tinted his normally cheerful eyes.

"I don't want to talk about him," he said bluntly.

"Alright, we don't have to talk about him right now if you don't want to."

"Not right now. Never. I never want to talk about him."

Allura nodding. "Okay, Lance."

They spent the next hour talking about his classes and how he was adjusting to the new environmental changes he faced moving from an island into the desert. By the end of their session, Lance felt calmer, more relaxed, and under control. The chime of the school bell echoed throughout the school signaling the end of the first period.

"Same time tomorrow, alright?" Allura chimed happily

'As if I have a choice.' Lance nodded silently.

"Are you taking care of your arms?" her words demanded an answer from the boy without hesitation.

"Yes, ma'am." He glanced down at his wrists, pulling down his jacket sleeves to hide the white cloth bandages underneath.

"You're doing great Lance. Now go on and don't be late to class." She called out the last part of her sentence out to him as he left the office. Lance knew is calm state would soon falter as the day progressed. But he could distract himself from his insecurities with his studies. Escaping into the lessons of his stars and galaxies course could confuse him enough to wonder more about the mysteries of the universe more than about the mysteries of his own fucked up mind. His books felt heavy in his arms. He was more focused on balancing the mountain of textbooks in his hands than the hallway in front of him. Lance glanced behind him for no more than a second before ramming into something sturdy, like a wall of muscle. And the books, along with Lance himself went toppling to the floor.

"Goddamit," Lance cursed.

He scrambled to pick up his books. He was in such a rush that he didn't notice who he ran into. As he reached for his intro to astrophysics book, he saw a hand grab it before he could get to it. Black fingerless gloves caressed the bonded leather of the cover and hovered above Lance's hand. To his astonishment, Lance was face to face, kneeling on the floor of a dimly lit hallway, looking into the dreamy violet-blue eyes of his crush, who had a dumb smirk on his perfect lips.

'Oh Fuck.