Chapter Text
The room was dim, only lit by one weak yellow lamp in the corner. Lance's arms were snaked around Nyma's thin waist, his chin resting on her shoulder and his fingertips edging her delicate spine under her blue shirt. Her face was buried in his neck and her arms slung around Lance's shoulders. Long dark shadows stretched and raced across the hardwood floor, the edges of the darkness grazing the tips of Keith's sneakers.
Keith took in the sight, a little part of him breaking when he saw Lance only feet away, yet inches away from someone else.
Pidge coughed suddenly, the sound unexpected and loud. Keith panicked.
"Shut up!" he whispered hurriedly. If Lance saw him creeping on his makeup session, he would never look at him normally again.
Lance looked up.
Lance's eyes widened when he caught sight of the two intruders, and he started to push Nyma away from him. Keith and Pidge looked at each other hesitantly, and Keith tugged at the bottom on his crop top again, feeling scrutinized under Lance's alarmed eyes.
Nyma's lips detached from Lance's neck with an audible pop. "Babe? Wh-" She turned towards the door and her eyes met Keith's. She blinked confused, before huffing and fixing a long pigtail. Leaning towards him, she smacked her lips obscenely, a loud noise reverberating around the room. "Enjoy the show?" she crooned and rolled her eyes as she wrapped her arms around Lance again. Her lipgloss was streaked across her face, sparkling, glittering goo glinting in the yellow light.
"Don't you know anything? Get out!" Lance suddenly yelled, pushing Nyma away again. Nyma merely pouted and crossed her arms, almost looking like a moody toddler. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" Lance continued shouting.
"The door wasn't locked asshole!" Pidge yelled back, her face twisting into one of anger. Keith saw her hands clench into fists. Oh geez. He started to leave the room before Pidge grabbed his sleeve. "Back me up."
"So what!" Lance raised an eyebrow.
Pidge definitely worked well under pressure, but when blinded by anger, she was almost as impulsive as him.
"So we walked in! Isn't our fault!" Her was voice laced with flames.
"Doesn't mean you go barging in wherever you want!" Lance responded, throwing his hands up, obviously pissed off his makeout session was interrupted.
"The door wasn't locked!"
"The door was closed!" Lance retorted.
Pidge laughed, obviously fake. "So if you see good ol' Target and the doors are motherfucking closed so you can't enter? No?"
"Don't disrespect Target like that!" Lance scoffed.
"W-"
"Well, what about you," Lance interrupted Pidge, and his scornful gaze shifted to Keith. "Why are you barging in then?"
"B-because I am?" Keith felt his throat tremble, not even believing that Lance was talking to him.
"Why are you acting so shy?" Lance taunted. "Scared or something?"
"OMG, Lance, he's blushing!" Nyma mocked him, her voice sing-song, her hands on her hips.
"Gross, what are you, gay?" Lance's nose wrinkled.
Keith's insides stung. He stepped back, his conscious burning.
"Oh my god, he really is," Nyma nudged Lance, a grin growing on her face.
Pidge growled at his side.
"WELL, SO WHAT IF HE IS? DOES THAT MATTER OR ARE YOU TOO SIMPLE-MINDED TO DEAL WITH THAT!" Pidge practically screamed, stepping in front of Keith instinctively. People in the hallway looked over, curiosity emanating from their peering eyes.
"Don't talk to my boyfriend like that!" Nyma stepped forwards, only inches between them, looking down at Pidge with a haughty expression, her lipgloss still smudged all over her face, and her previously bouncy pigtails now frizzy and mussed.
"Don't tell me what to do!" Pidge looked up at her defiantly, almost a foot of height difference between them.
"Get. Out."
"Your fake eyelashes are falling off bitch!" Pidge spat. Keith could've sworn that Lance stifled a laugh, a big white sleeve covering his mouth as his blue-almost-green-in-the-light eyes crinkled and shone. Keith stared, his hands hanging by his side like an idiot. Background sounds muffled in nonexistence, he can barely hear the hard voices and heavy beat from far, far away. He doesn't know how long he watched and gaped until Pidge smacked his arm.
"Keith! Back me up! Tell this bitch who doesn't know how to lock a door that she can't comment on my tooth gap."
"Oh fuck you," Nyma stepped even closer.
"Baby, wait. Are you really gonna throw hands with a thirteen-year-old? Lance gently pulled Nyma back. She complied, a grumbled expression on her face.
"I'M FIFTEEN."
"Whatever! Just fucking leave already. Take your faggot boyfriend too," Lance spat out, before turning away.
Keith felt his insides go numb again, instinctively feeling his hands form into fists at his sides. That word slipped out of Lance's mouth like acid, dripping down his face like something dirty and broken.
Pidge was practically shaking at his side. She needed to calm down. He needed a drink.
"...what did you just fucking say," Pidge said slowly, the tension in the air heavy, falling around their feet like pouring rain. Lance's back is still facing them, his head turned toward the floor.
"You heard him," Nyma snapped. Keith pulled Pidge back, out of the room, past the doorframe.
"Wish I didn't," Pidge snarled, fighting against Keith, her shoes scuffling on the hardwood floor.
Nyma snickered. "What's the big deal? Faggot."
"SAY THAT AGAIN I FUCKING DARE-"
Nyma slammed the door in her face in response.
"BITCH-" Pidge almost threw herself at the closed door before Keith grabbed her.
"It's not worth it," he held her arms against her sides, which was no use as she started kicking at his shins.
"It'll be worth it if you let me in that door!" She continued wrestling against Keith, who she was no match for. "Fucking bitch! Thinks she's so entitled just bec-"
"It doesn't matter anymore!" Keith interrupted, cursing at himself in his brain, hating himself, hating himself for falling for Lance.
"Whatever," Keith pulled her away, ignoring the loud, obscene moans coming from inside that room. "It doesn't matter."
Maybe if he said it enough, he could convince himself.
The party was dying down, the last stragglers of people meandering outside on the front lawn or rounding up their friends.
"Let's leave Pidge," Keith nudged his friend, who sulked beside him as they made their way back to the kitchen.
"I can't believe you wouldn't let me avenge you! That's what friends are for!"
"It's fine, people say it all the time," Keith stepped over an unconscious girl with long white hair. "It doesn't mean anything." They returned to their original spot at the kitchen counter, both of them standing on opposite sides of the counter. A sea of empty bottles and scattered cups covered the counter, a bottle of Corona Extra spilled onto the floor.
A beat of silence passed.
"What time is it?" Pidge muttered.
Keith checked his phone. "2:27"
"I'm going home," Pidge said, straightening her back and stretching. "You wanna crash at mine or can you ride home?"
Keith smiled. "Nah, it's okay. I'm definitely sober now."
Pidge let out a weak laugh. "Well, I'll see you on Monday Kogane." She hugged him and left, running to the front door before her mom caught her out this late.
Keith needed fresh air. Getting over Lance would take some time.
He walked out the back door and sat down on the rickety wooden porch, ignoring the creaking and getting lost in his thoughts about oversized hoodies and bright eyes.
Soon after, he felt a presence beside him. He ignored it.
"Hey man," Lance plopped down beside him on the porch. He tugged on the bottom of his hoodie, obviously uncomfortable.
"What," Keith bit back, his voice full of acid. A small, tiny, minuscule part of him screaming at the fact that Lance is talking to him, sitting mere inches away from him. He stared down a tuft of grass to avoid Lance's heavy gaze. As much fury as he felt toward Lance, he still felt the familiar heat of a blush creep along his neck. For the first time in a long time, he was glad that his hair was long enough to cover it.
"Sorry about what I said earlier, I didn't mean it," Lance muttered awkwardly. "I don't know what came over me."
Keith finally ripped his eyes off the grass and looked at Lance. His hair was mussed, straight out of bed, and his lips were bitten, red, and raw. Lance looked down sheepishly before scuffing at the grass with his shoe. "Yeah, you did," Keith muttered.
"I'm really sorry man."
The wind rustled through the air, a cold understanding passing between them.
"I don't care," Keith finally whispered. And as much as Lance's eyes twinkled in the moonlight, and as much as the freckles on his face stood out in contrast to the harsh white of his hoodie, he wasn't going to fall for it. He stood up and started to walk back inside.
"Hey man," Lance said quietly from behind him. Keith looked over his shoulder.
"What."
"Don't tell anyone," Lance pulled his hood up, hiding his face.
Leaving the door open, Keith went inside.