TRIGGER WARNINGS: References to of depression and very obvious cutting. This thing is literally about scars from said cutting. Please, please do not read if you're not comfortable with any of this/this triggers you in any way. Stay safe, you guys

Bad Things Bingo returns! This time, with some langst, as per-requested (I think) by an anon on tumblr!

Anon said: Maybe the Hidden Scar with langst?

Something was off about Lance.

It was in the way he walked, shoulders slumped rather than drawn back and proud. In his smiles; the way they became pinched and forced whenever one of Pidge's teasing went a bit too far or Allura all but glared at him for every dumb pick-up line. He grew quieter, speaking only when spoken to, and even then his voice was quiet and dull as opposed to the boisterous tone Shiro had begun to associate with their Blue Paladin.

Shiro knew he wasn't the only one who noticed.

Hunk clearly did too. He drew himself closer to Lance, whether he knew it or not, every time Lance forced a laugh. The concerned looks he threw his best friend, the quiet talks the two would have on the bridge when they thought no one was around.

At first, Shiro associated Lance's strange behavior with homesickness. Lance without question had the largest family out of all of them. With at least eight siblings and four nieces and nephews, Lance was well-loved and used to being surrounded by familiarity and support. Even at the Garrison - according to Hunk - Lance video chatted with his mother at least three times a week.

Here...Here Lance had none of that. So, it would make sense that Lance's odd behavior could be attributed to a particularly brutal bout of homesickness.

But when the attitude didn't stop, when the forced smiles didn't change, Shiro began to suspect something far darker was at play.

Shiro knew he had to confront Lance, but he just couldn't find the time to. In between leading the team during missions, dealing with his nightmares, and discussing battle tactics with Allura, Shiro had a lot of on his plate. But they had been orbiting the outside of Galra occupied space for a while now, waiting for an opportunity to dive in, and Shiro thought there was no better time than the present to discuss Lance's sudden attitude change.

He wandered the halls, looking for the Blue Paladin. Lance wasn't in the Blue Lion's hangar or with Hunk in the kitchen. He wasn't on the training deck (it was currently being used by Keith) or with Pidge in her workshop.

Shiro popped his head into the bridge. Coran was currently cleaning the infirmary and Allura was taking a well-deserved nap after spending days on end deliberating over the safest route through the Galra occupation, so if there was any time for Lance to be watching the stars in the Milky Way Galaxy it would be now.

Except Lance...wasn't in there.

The star map had been turned on, artificial lights blinking around the room. Shiro recognized some of the constellations and realized Lance had indeed been here but had left recently. Leaving only one place he could be.

His room.

Shiro traced Orion's belt once with his gaze and left.

In front of Lance's bedroom, Shiro crossed his arms and deliberated about what to say.

He could pull the concerned leader card, but Lance had a tendency to brush any concern about him out the window and somehow get him concerned about someone else. Shiro could not let that happen, not this time.

He'd have to try something else.

Something to get Lance to talk.

Shiro drew back his shoulders, determination settling into his bones. He raised a fist and rapped gently against the door. Almost instantly there was a quiet swear in Spanish and a clatter of something that sounded like metal. Without any real reason, Shiro's stomach bottomed out at the noise.

"Lance?" He called out. "Everything okay?"

"Y-Yeah!" Lance's voice sounded strangely congested. Like he'd been crying recently. "I-I'm fine! Don't worry."

"Okay?" The word came out as more of a question than anything. Shiro didn't believe Lance after what he'd seen - not in the slightest - and now needed answers more than ever. "Can I talk to you?"

That got Lance to panic. "I-I'm not really feeling up to it right now, Shiro, maybe later-"

There was a shuffle behind the door, a clatter as something fell to the floor. Lance swore in Spanish again.

"Lance," Shiro tried again. "I'm really worried about you. Can we please talk?"

"You're worried about me?" Lance sounded incredulous. "No, no, don't worry I'm fine. You should worry about Allura instead, she's been up for a few days-"

"Allura's sleeping right now," Shiro said. "She'll be fine. Besides, I didn't come all this way to talk to you about Allura, I came here to talk to you."

Behind the door, the frantic clattering of Lance knocking things over and undoubtedly putting them back to where they were before paused. There was a breath that Shiro held, hoping that for once he finally got through to Lance.

There was a loud, dejected sigh. "All right. Door's...door's open."

Relief Shiro couldn't quite explain filled him. His lungs expanded, seemingly weighed down with worry about what was going on inside the room, a thin wall and an automatic door separating them. Shiro stepped forwards and it slid open, revealing Lance standing sheepishly by his bed.

The room was in disarray, the sheets of Lance's normally pristine bed unmade and pooling onto the floor. Lance's dresser of skin-care products had many of the bottles knocked over. Dirty clothes and Lance's own Paladin armor was thrown in a pile in the corner, flight suit on the bottom and armor on top.

Lance himself looked a mess, his mocha skin dull and unpolished, like he hadn't done his nightly face-mask at all this week. Dark bags hung under his eyes and those beautiful ocean orbs were red-rimmed, like he had been crying.

Shiro made a point to ignore the mess as he stepped over Lance's shoe in front of the door. "Hey, buddy."

"Hey," Lance's expression was guarded. His left arm - with the sleeve of his shirt rolled up - was kept carefully behind him.

Shiro wanted to ask immediately what was on Lance's mind. He wasn't like Keith, who he knew wouldn't beat around the bush and get straight to the point. Nor was he compassionate in the way Hunk was, to coax the answer out meticulously and without pressure.

"Everything okay?" Shiro said instead, choosing his words carefully.

"Yeah," Lance nodded stiffly. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Your room, for starters, Shiro thought, glancing around at the mess again. Lance followed his gaze, shoulders drawing up defensively.

"Can I help you clean this mess?" Shiro asked, tilting his head. He was searching for an out because Lance had to know Shiro was suspicious, and he needed Lance calm to get an explanation out of him.

Lance's expression melted into a mixture of surprise and confusion. "Sure."

Shiro stepped around Lance to get to the worst of the mess near his closet. He didn't miss the way Lance was quick to pull his arm from behind his back and tuck his sleeve back down snugly around his wrist. Whatever was bothering Lance, it had to have to do something with his arm.

Shiro began hanging up the Paladin armor, sending the sweat-crusted flight suit and the dirty clothes down the laundry chute to be washed later. He moved along the room, picking up skin care products that had fallen from the dresser and putting them in rows, the way he knew Lance preferred. He had opened one of the drawers to put a clean washcloth away when he saw it.

The glint of a blade, sharp and square, at the bottom of the drawer.

Shiro almost flinched.

His hands trembling, he dropped the washcloth and began reaching for the blade. It was dull on one side, like it had been used over and over again. On what, Shiro didn't know. He wasn't even sure he wanted to find out.

Instead, he found his breathing far too loud in his ears suddenly. The metal was slightly warm to the touch as he picked it up, and Shiro's throat suddenly felt very dry. One charcoal eye stared back at him as he looked at his reflection in it. He looked sweaty and pale, his heart pounding in his throat.

Was this…?

"Lance?" Shiro hated the way his voice trembled. The way Lance tensed like a child that had just been caught with their hand halfway into the cookie jar. "What is this?"

Lance turned slowly. He saw the blade in Shiro's hand and began to shake. His long fingers curled and uncurled into fists as he licked his lips, grasping for an explanation. Shiro desperately hoped that the explanation wasn't the one he suspected. He hoped it was a misunderstanding. A part of an insanely complicated Altean skin-care routine Allura had taught him.

The answer Shiro didn't get was so, so much worse.

Because Lance started crying.

He stumbled away from Shiro, his back colliding with the door. He slid against it, hot tears washing down his mocha skin and dripping off his chin. He let out a choked sob, burying his face in his arms to hide it.

"Lance?" Shiro breathed.

Lance cried in response. "I-I'm sorry.. lo siento I-I… tried so hard."

"What do you mean?" Shiro took a few careful steps towards Lance. His stomach was curled into awful knots, tense and winding Shiro past his breaking point.

"I-I…" Lance gasped out a sob. "I was going to...I just felt so lonely and guilty that I needed to relieve it somehow and-and…"

Shiro felt sick. "You almost...cut yourself."

Lance nodded desperately. "I wanted to. I told Hunk I was getting better. I thought I was getting better but-but…"

But thoughts never quite make their way into reality, Shiro thought.

Lance cried hard, his breathing ragged and every breath catching in his throat. He shoulders heaved as Shiro knelt next to him, the blade held tight enough in his grip to draw blood from tiny cuts.

"Lance…" Shiro whispered, unable to say anything else.

"I haven't done it in months," Lance cried. He lifted his head, stained with tears and red eyes, and yanked his sleeve down to show Shiro. "I was doing fine. E-even the homesickness wasn't that bad but just...it all came crashing down and all I wanted to do was…" He choked, unable to even say it.

Shiro looked at Lance's arm and realized why he had been so keen to hide it. Thin puckered scars in varying lengths and sizes spread up the length of the inside of his wrist, almost up to the crook of his elbow. Some were large and desperate, others small and shallow.

All of them were horrible.

Lance let out a howl of despair. " Lo siento, Shiro, I-I didn't mean for you to...see this. I-I just...you're my hero and I can't be strong like you, I just can't-" He wiped furiously at his tears with his palms, trying to dash them away. "I'm not strong, I'm just the useless flirt in this team. The seventh wheel. I-"

Shiro, unable to watch Lance tear himself down, cut him off by dropping the blade with a clatter and enveloping Lance into his arms. Lance, thoroughly surprised, shut his mouth. Instead, he let out a weak whimper of a sob and trembled in Shiro's grip.

Shiro hugged Lance tightly, the older boy's face pressed into the crook of his neck. Long lanky limbs came around Shiro to grip him back, fingers digging desperately into Shiro's back and holding onto him for some sort of stability. Shiro's fingers threaded themselves into Lance's hair as he cried and cried, apologizing endlessly in both Spanish and English.

Shiro felt sickened. Sickened that he knew something like this was going on just under his nose and he hadn't done anything about it. He had put the mission before the team and paid the price. Lance was suffering for God knew how long, and Shiro had done nothing.

"Lance," Shiro murmured over Lance's sobs. The smaller boy stilled in his arms, waiting. Listening. "I'm the one who should be sorry. I knew something was off I just...didn't think to confront you about it until I had more time. I'm sorry, Lance. You shouldn't have had to go through this alone."

Lance choked on his next breath of air. "It's...it's not your fault-"

"No, it is," Shiro said. "We're a family out here, remember? And families shouldn't have to feel like they're alone or can't approach each other because they'd be ignored." He pulled away to grip Lance by the shoulders and look him in the eyes that were wet with unshed tears. "You are not useless, okay? You're not the seventh wheel. You are an essential part of this team. Our sharpshooter, our wise-cracking good guy, okay? You are important because you are needed."

Lance, slack-jawed with surprise, was unable to respond.

"If you ever feel like this again," Shiro tried not to look at the blade as he spoke. "Come to me, okay? Or come to any of us. We will all be willing to listen to you. You're not alone, and calling out for help doesn't make you weak. Okay?"

Lance opened his mouth and closed it, but no sound came out. His expression showed he wanted to make a rebuttal. A refute to brush aside Shiro's words, but Shiro would have none of that. He would show Lance how important he was; whether Lance liked it or not.

He tightened his grip around Lance's shoulders. "Okay?"

Lance's next breath was a half-sob half-laugh. "Okay."

And for the first time since this whole ordeal had begun, Shiro knew he could believe him.

Wow, this was heavy. It got a lot more angsty than I was originally intending, but Shiro is there to save the day.

In all honesty though, if you are suffering from depression and suicidal thoughts, I urge you to talk to someone. I know how this must feel like empty words from a stranger on the internet, but you are not weak for seeking out help. Help is how you'll get better and how you'll pull through. Depression is a war, and wars can't be won on their own.

Stay safe, everyone

I really hope you guys enjoyed this! It was requested by a lovely anon on tumblr, and I hope this was in line with their expectations! It hurt to write, I started experiencing everything Shiro was feeling when he found Lance's blade. Oof, poor boys can't catch a break.

Thank you for reading!