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It wouldn’t be the first nor last time Keith had a nightmare—bloodied and ridged, his hand held onto his knife as he stood in line with hundreds of others just like him. He shook and pushed at the ground yet his foot refused to move. He was a soldier, in line, eager to await orders but this just didn’t feel right. He would see a face, large and brooding, eyes glowing with an energy he was too scared to mark down and he would wake up.
His first instinct: grab the knife. Fight off intruders, the enemy, something. He would gasp in a sweaty rage and fling his knife in front of him, ready to protect himself. All he met was darkness.
With a sigh, he stood up shakily and turned on a lamp. The warm light casted over him and suddenly he was back in the real world, far too frightened. Pushing back his hair, Keith swore under his breath; he was exhausted. These nightmares relentlessly kept happening, despite him learning some part of the truth about his identity—why must they plague him still? Was he truly so frightened of the Galra, despite being one? Or was it Zarkon he was scared of? The mere idea of his identity being his downfall to Voltron and himself?
Shaking his head, he pulled on a shirt and slippers and left for the kitchen. The castles lights were low, indicating a nightly atmosphere; pidge’s door was still open. She was probably working on Green. Lance’s door was closed, which was to be expected. The guy loved his beauty sleep. Hunk’s was closed as well, and Keith smiled slightly to himself when he passed, hearing the man’s snores from outside the door. Shiro’s door was not too far off as well and for a moment Keith hesitated in wondering if he should talk to Shiro about this again. The man was pretty much his brother figure, at this point. Keith knew he too suffered from nightmares—but at the same time…
He didn’t want to be a burden. Shiro had just returned from Galra capture. Why would he want to speak to a Galra about the very thing he was trying to get rid of?
Continuing his walk to the kitchen, he was glad to see it empty. Turning on the lights, he blinked at the sudden brightness and allowed his eyes to adjust before heading towards the fridge. Honestly, bless Hunk and his initiative to make snacks for them all on his down time. They may be away from Earth by a long, long stretch, but at least there was little signs of home within the castle. He grabbed some juice Allura always offered them to drink (he didn’t mind it, really) and some sort of sandwich looking thing that Hunk made earlier that day and settled down to eat. He wasn’t necessarily a picky eater—he just ate little bits at different times. Like a baby bird, Lance once told him.
Lance…The very thought of him made Keith angry. And then, thankful. If it wasn’t for Lance, this team would have been torn apart so very quickly under Keith’s roll as temporary leader. He was reckless—he knew this. It’s just that once he saw his end goal, he became very narrow minded and determined to finish what he started. He had very little impulse control, he was noticing—but Lance was fixing that as well.
Lance had really stepped up since Shiro was gone. Keith knew this. He wanted to thank him—but how? The last time Lance came to talk to him, he was so clumsy with his words, it was a miracle Lance had left his quarters with a smile on his face. Why couldn’t he excel at something so trivial? How did Shiro make it seem so easy?
He missed Red. He felt more comfortable in Red, as Shiro’s second in command, as someone less significant than leader. He missed his shack back on Earth. He missed the simpler days when it was just him and his thoughts.
He knew he was here for a reason. To save the universe—to find his family, figure out his past, what have you. He just wished things were easier.
On that thought, he was interrupted by a knock on the door. He had barely eaten anything, he was so lost yet again. Looking up, he nearly smiled at the sight before him.
Lance stood in his usual matching blue pajama set, with matching slippers to boot, but his hair. It was, for once, a complete and utter mess. Lance stood there, rubbing at one eye with a slight frown on his face.
“Dude, it’s like, 3 in the morning.”
“Oh…Right. Sorry. Was I loud?”
“I live right next to you—I hear everything.” Lance muttered, already making his way over to Keith. He sat down with a huff, reaching for a bit of Keith’s food and tearing off a bit to eat. When Keith didn’t say anything, he looked back up. “What?”
“Sorry, it’s just…” Keith felt a smile crack and he allowed it to blossom into a full-fledged grin. “Your hair is ridiculous.”
“It is not!” Lance defended himself quickly, gasping at the mere notion that his hair was anything but perfect. Taking out the little communicator Coran had given them (and what Lance had made his own personal camera), Lance looked at himself and gasped once again. “Oh my sweet Lord and Jesus.”
“I think it looks good.” Keith mumbled only to find Lance glaring at him.
“Of course you would. You practically live for anything messy.” He sighed, now pouting at himself through the phone. “I knew I should’ve dried my hair before bed. I always do and the one time I don’t, my hair turns into a fucking birds nest. I’m going to have to take another shower in the morning, ugh.”
“Isn’t it already morning?”
“Oh, speaking of which—“ Lance replied, ignoring the first bit. “What are you even doing up?” With that, Keith’s smile turned back into a frown. He turned his gaze back down to the food and began picking at it slowly. Shiro was the only one who knew of his nightmares. The only one he trusted, really, not to make fun of him. Normally, he wouldn’t dare say anything to give Lance a chance to make jokes at him—but now…
He trusted Lance. It was new found trust, one he was still learning about, but he knew he trusted him.
“I...Have been having trouble sleeping lately.” Keith said in a quiet voice. He waited, for the jokes to come, waited for Lance to make some type of sarcastic comment. All that came though was a hand on his shoulder and a gentle squeeze.
“Tell me about it. What’s been going on?”
Keith looked at Lance, really looked at him and his eyes. He looked sincerely concerned and it was frightening at first to have that look set upon him by Lance himself. He felt another squeeze on his shoulder and suddenly all his walls were cracking and breaking down before him.
“Okay…”
And he did.
He told Lance everything—the dreams where he’s a Galra soldier, the dreams he’s back in the shack with his father and can’t seem to talk back to him, even the dreams where Voltron fails and he’s the only one left alive, the one left behind. He talked and talked and Lance listened closely. They left the kitchen and walked down the halls together and talked. They made it back to Keith’s room and talked. Eyes were blurry and voices quiet, Keith kept talking because it felt like he finally found a link of no judgement he so desperately needed. Lance wasn’t like Shiro—Keith didn’t need to worry about overstepping lines with his thoughts on the Galra and he wasn’t shut down when he talked bad about himself. Lance simply listened, intently.
“And sometimes, I feel…” Keith sighed, eyes so very tired as he sat against the wall next to his bed, Lance beside him. “That Shiro made a mistake…Making me the leader. Now Black won’t take him back and I’m suddenly in charge again but not fully…Something’s up with Shiro and I can’t pinpoint it but it’s distracting and I’m worried about…So much that I feel myself…”
“Falling apart?” Lance suggested when Keith grew even quieter. Keith nodded and Lance sighed, bumping his shoulder against the others. “I get that. I really do. When Blue didn’t let me in the first time, I almost damn near sobbed. It was almost like every fear I’ve ever had about myself was coming true and I could do nothing about it. Not that I’m not grateful Red took me in, it’s just…”
“Yeah.” Keith said, closing his eyes as he felt sleep clinging to him. “You know, I’m glad Red choose you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, she…She’s not easy to please.” Keith chuckled, Lance joining in as well. “But I couldn’t think of anyone else I’d rather have…by my side.”
“Whoa, you must be really tired!” Lance joked lightly, wrapping an arm around Keith to gently shake him. “You’re spouting nonsense here.” Keith gently pushed him away but didn’t protest when Lance kept his arm around him. It was warm. It was nice.
“I mean it. Without you, this whole time Shiro has been gone, I couldn’t have—I mean, we would’ve…” He cleared his throat, already unable to speak. Maybe he talked for too long. Maybe it was Lance’s arm. Maybe he was just so god damn tired. Turning his head, he smiled weakly at Lance, ignoring the close proximity between them. “Thank you.”
It was something else, really, to see Lance blush due to something he had said. He watched Lance take his hand through his matted hair and look away, but there was a smile there and that was all Keith really wanted to see. He closed his eyes and felt his head meet Lance’s shoulder but he didn’t care at that point. His thoughts were quiet for once, his heart felt full. He felt Lance’s arm tighten around him and he wiggled in a bit closer towards that warmth. He needed Lance. He wanted Lance. Lance was here and that’s all the really mattered.
“Good night, Keith.”