Chapter Text
Lance allowed himself to be whisked by the breeze, his eyelids fluttered closed as be breathes in the briny aroma. Scrunching his toes together, he felt the softness of the sand, still hot from the retreating sun. He wiggled as a shiver cascades down his spine and his bright blue eyes burst open. The white sand blurs out in a blissful trance, the shore fading into liquid gold--vivid in the brilliant light. His slightly chapped tan lips curve upwards.
Lance bestows his gaze to the far off horizon, the flaring hues of the sun melting into the sky--the ocean like a divine painting. The forever stretching sea is masked with an apricot colour, that beautiful umber flowing into turquoise. Through narrowed eyes, he watches as each wave overlaps one another, sending the white bubbling crests descending, masking the shore with the transparent fading water.
This was his secret world, one from which he is not allowed to be in. It was cruel for the boy, not being allowed to feel the coolness of the salty water caressing his bare chest. He's forgotten how it felt like in the first place, how long he has craved to just jump in without limitations.
He longed for it.
The feeling of his wet skin under the unforgiving blistering summer heat.
"You know," a soft voice said next to him, as if not to startle the picture perfect beauty before them. "Gazing at the ocean for hours and hours won't change a thing." He knew that. Of course he did. However, hearing those words repeatedly only seemed to make his desire for the ocean stronger.
"It doesn't hurt to try, V," he replied to his oldest sister, Veronica. The two stayed silent, enjoying the vast view of the ocean shore and the wonders it withheld. "I remember when mamá would chase you around the shallow end of the water when it was time to go home," she chuckled, her light blue eyes fixated on low tides with fondness. "You didn't want to leave the water, even if you were as wrinkled as a raisin and shivering all over." Her wistful expression then turned towards her younger brother who fiddled with his fingers, careful not to let the stinging in his eyes get to him.
"Oh, Lance," Veronica gasped softly, realizing her mistake. Any mention of the old days immediately brought a tamper in the younger boy's mood. He no longer found the sunset as breathtaking as before. He shook his head softly, ignoring the desperate cry within her eyes. He didn't blame her. Lance never could. He instead blamed himself.
He was the reason why his family rarely goes out to the ocean, why they look at him with eyes full of pity when they do. He was the reason why he needed special treatment and medication that cost money, money his family doesn't have. Lance hated it. He hated all of it.
Aquagenic Urticaria was the official name for it, a rare condition where any contact of water will turn toxic due to his natural oils on his skin reacting differently than "normal". He first experienced it when he was ten years old. Lance and his family spent the whole day at the beach, slashing around within the ocean waves and a barbecue late in the evening. However, later that same night, Lance woke up to angry hives littering his arms and face, an irritation so bad that he curled up on his side, crying from the intense pain. His mother, who awoke from her sons pained cries, hurriedly left the house at 2 in the morning just to buy Benadryl, which eased the irritation, but just for that night.
They had passed it off as a fluke, Lance's family believing that he might've been stung by a jellyfish or touched something unknowingly. However, as the years passed, the idea of it "just being stung" went down the drain when Lance's reaction became a common occurrence. He basically lived in the hospital for over six months, the doctors placing chemicals typically found in the ocean
As this irritation became more and more frequent, his family became more and more concerned. Between a period of six months, Lance spent most of his time in the hospital. The doctors performed many tests on him, placing chemicals on his body to see what exactly caused such a reaction. But every time he had to wash the chemicals away, it just caused an even worse irritation than he had coming in.
They tested temperature water, distilled, pure; all of which had the same results. But after the worst reaction he's had that almost killed him, Lance began to wonder with a cold dred that perhaps it was water in general that caused his hive reaction.
No one could have possibly imagined that the main culprit of his hives was caused by most trusted compound on Earth. The doctors were befuddled, completely unaware that such a thing could exist in a world where water is everything. Lance especially took the news with a heavy heart.
After his diagnosis, Lance spent the whole car ride crying, pouring his heart out, not caring that his eyes were seering in pain or when his face became blotchy. That was the last time he's ever cried.
Lance stood up, turning his back at the now night sky and embracing the cool breeze of briney air. "I'm heading back," he curtly told his older sister as he began to walk away, not leaving anytime for her to catch up. Veronica watched Lance's retreating back, fading into the darkness.
~•~
"Oh, Lancito!" His kindhearted mother cried as soon as he walked inside his house. The house itself was quite small considering the eight people lived in it, nine including Lance. Although crowded, you get that feeling of warmth, despite the chipping yellow paint of the eroding plaster walls. What took up most of the place was the diner that expanded into the small living room. Leading upstairs were five bedrooms and a single bathroom that always seemed occupied. Lance always thought that it was unfair he had to share his room with his nephew and niece. His parents, however, were quick to rebuttal that Veronica needed her space, Maros and his wife, Sonya, as well. And Luis...no one really liked to share rooms with him. So Lance was stuck with the two little ones, Mateo and Sofia, who always seemed to drive him nuts. No matter where you turn in the house, almost always you were never alone.
She quickly stood up from the couch to embrace her son into a tight hug. "There you are! You were gone for so long and I began to worry that you'd-you'd," she quickly released her son as to not get any tears onto his skin. Lance tore his gaze away in shame as his beautiful mother fiercely wiped her tears away. "We told you not to go out without telling anyone!" His father scolded gently from behind his mother. "We were worried sick! Where were, son?" He enquired, placing a firm grip on Lance's shoulder. Lance, however, shrugged it away and didn't dare to meet his parents' gaze. His silence was enough for them to know.
His father sighed heavily, the years of worry and pity etched on his face as he hugged his mother tighter who had suddenly burst into tears. "Lo siento, mijo. Lo siento! (I'm sorry, my son. I'm sorry!)" She wailed as if it were her fault Lance had his skin condition. The boy just stood there, his fists and jaw clenched tightly taking it all in: the pity, the tears, the worry, and most of all, the pain he's caused his family. His father offered a small smile to his son which seemed almost forced on the older man.
"I'm guessing Veronica found you," Lance nodded. His father chuckled lightly. "She always knew where to find you no matter where you were. I should call Marcos and Luis back home. They have been out searching for you too." Another guilty pang in the chest. Lance stole a quick glance at his mother who sniffled away her tears. His father sighed in resignation as he soothingly rubbed circles on his wife's back
"Escucha, hijo. You can't leave the house alone like that without your protective materials! Qué hubiera pasado si lloviera? O se te cayó agua sobre la piel? Mijo, you can't that risk! Do you realize how much heartache you've caused your mother and I? Estábamos preocupados de que algo malo pudiera haber sucedido! I'm glad that you didn't break out this time, pero no puedes ir de la casa sín Verónica, o Marcos, o Lu-" (Listen, son...what would have happened if it rained? Or if water fell on your skin?...We were worried that something bad could have happened!...but you can't leave the house without...)
"Vicente!" His mother exclaimed softly, smacking her husband's chest lightly. Despite her puffy red eyes, what stood out the most was her bright blue eyes that narrowed slightly at her husband. His father jolted, looking down at his wife incredulously. "¡Oye! Pero que mujer?-" (Hey! But what women?) She nudged her head slightly at Lance who now had his head bowed in defeat, trying to fight his tears back in.
He hated this.
He hated this house with a passion.
He hated the way they treated him like he was a frail piece of glass that could break at the slightest touch. Or how he could never go anywhere or do anything without 24/7 supervision. Lance felt that his home in Cuba was more of a prisonment; the run-down look of the house further exploring this idea. He wished nothing more than to get away from here, to be so far away without a care in the world and not have people constantly worry about his condition.
Lance swallowed the lump forming in his throat as he steadied his breath. His father sighed, rubbing his face tiredly. "Mijo. I'm only saying that you can't go outside-" His mother glared at him, effectively shutting his father's mouth. Everyone knew never to cross with her. "What your papa is trying to say...we only want what is best for you."
White hot anger bubbled inside the thirteen year old, an anger that had festered and turned ugly for so long. It built inside him, waiting to be released and shared out in the open for all to see. However before Lance could think about speaking back, Veronica walked in the door, two tall figures right behind her.
"Encontré Marcos y Luis de regreso a la casa." (I found Marcos and Luis on my way home.) She turned to Lance and gave him a disapproving look. "Next time don't leave without me, duffus. You didn't give me time to hand over your materials." Lance's eyes traveled down to all of his siblings hands and sure enough, they each held his "protective materials" he's supposed to carry just in case. Whoever found him first needed to give him the bag that he always "forgets".
Lance gave his parents one last glance and ultimately decided to walk away. No one argued his sudden departure.
Despite the mountains of littered toys carelessly scattered throughout his bedroom along with the clothes worn by his niece and nephew, Lance's room was a fresh breather. Macros' wife, Sonya, took their two kids over at her parents house for the weekend leaving Lance with the room to his self. It was significantly quieter when the the two rascals were gone.
Although always wanting the room to his lonesome, Lance never really minded the extra company. His relatives always kept his room lively with loud noises and mad giggles that were infectious on the thirteen year old. But now that they were gone for that weekend, Lance has to deal with the oppressing silent of his room, leaving him alone with his dangerous thoughts.
He walked over to his mattress on the floor, careful not to walk on any lone legos, and sprawled out. He lifted his hand high, examining it under the moon's light rays that illuminated his room softly. His arm was slightly red; Lance didn't even need to look to know that his face and legs were the same. Surprisingly, this was his luckier days when the temperatures in Cuba weren't drastically hot and humid.
Having seen enough, Lance placed his arm back down. He could hear his family in the living room, silently arguing what they should do with him. He resisted the urge to shout at them and instead, rolled over to his side.
Just when he thinks he's a master of his life, fate decides to take a new turn. Emotions come like hands on the wheel of a "car," taking Lance somewhere different to the place he never expected. The destination could be beautiful, bewitching even, yet that was never the case with him. It took a nasty turn for him and when Lance finally arrives, it's not at all what he expected. For now, he's staying there until his destiny swipes him away to a different alternative life, one were being allergic to water isn't possible.
Yet there Lance was, defying all laws against nature. Why had it been him? What did he do to deserve such punishment bestowed on him?
Is there a cure?
Lance knew the answer to his last question but he always opted to a brighter side of things. "You have to stay hopeful, mijo." His mother always told him. "Quen save? Al la mejor someone will come up with a cure. On that day, we'll spend all day and night at the beach." He'd watch in awe at the determined and certain look in his mother's eyes, as if she knew that one day Lance's disease will be lifted. He loved her for that because as each day passed by, Lance's hope steadily dwindled, sealing his fate.
His eyes fluttered closed and the darkness consumed the teen, a darkness that Lance welcomed with open arms.