Chapter Text
Lance sat in the courtyard, swinging his legs back and forth in the snow, making tiny tracks. “Friday’s” lie across the road, and he sat from afar, idolizing and admiring the boy inside the building as he glided between tables. He was picking up and dropping off food and empty plates. It was something he could understand, as he did it every day as well in his own little shop across the city.
His fluffy kitty sat on his left leg, purring in his jacket with the warmth. She nudged at his left hand, his dominant hand, and fell asleep on his lap. He sighed at her, picking her up and making the trek back home. It wasn’t a long walk, but as he was walking from the courtyard, he caught sight of the boy inside “Friday’s”. The lights on the ceilings hung low, and lit up his eyes and face beautifully.
Unfortunately, he was caught in his staring, and the boy inside caught his eyes, gave him a kind smile, and waved at him. Lance felt his cheeks heat up, and he started booking it back for his tiny flat on the outskirts of the city.
Any tree planted on the roads and streets was drowned in lights of all colors, including red, blue, green, yellow, and even white. The grounds, walkways, and streets had a light dusting of snow lying on top of them, and the mush crunched under Lance’s feet as he walked. His nose and cheeks were pink from the chill in the air, and his fingers were freezing as he held the kitten in one hand, and his cane in the other.
Finally, the boy returned to his shared flat, limping up the stairs and leaving his cane at the door. He placed the kitten at the base of the door and leaned heavily on his right foot as he tried to stay stable enough to unlock the door. Finally, after twiddling with at least five different keys, the door swung open as he was about to try another. His house mate, a boy about the same age as him, stood in the doorway, and pulled him in as he noticed the discoloration in Lance’s face. “Gawd, are you insane?! Do you want to freeze? Label your house key, dummy!” the boy shrieked, helping Lance limp into their living area.
The cat and Lance plopped onto the love seat, and the other brought them soup that had been steaming over the stove for about an hour. “Looks delicious. Thank you, Hunk,” Lance exclaimed, beginning to devour it as soon as it had been set in front of him.
Hunk sent the other a smile before pulling up a stool and moving a couple of things off of the coffee table. He called out a name, “Pidge”, and then left the room. A small child bounded into the room, holding their phone in one hand and a screw in the other.
“Hello Lance. How was your outing with Blue?” Pidge asked him, motion at Blue the cat when she was mentioned.
Lance shrugged, bringing a hand up to feed himself and then pet the soft fur of his kitten’s back. “Okay, I guess. The boy at Friday’s saw me today.”
His prosthetic was bothering him, Pidge noticed. They asked if Lance could lift his left leg up onto the stool so Pidge could have a look, and Lance obeyed. The skin where the prosthetic was attached seemed red and irritated, and Lance looked uncomfortable as Pidge ran their fingers over the area.
Lance couldn’t remember a time when he had the bottom half of his left leg. It had been missing for as long as he could remember. In fact, he couldn’t even remember how he lost it, half the time. Hunk would tell the story countless times to people who asked why “the boy from building one twenty-two has no leg”. It was something Lance heard everyone say as he walked through the streets every day. He was used to at that point.
Pidge looked at the prosthesis, adjusting a couple of screws and bolts until Lance told them that it felt better. The child left Lance on his own then, allowing him to finish his soup in peace and quiet. He never really was one for commotion.
The boy from building one twenty-two seemed like something out of a dream, to the boy from “Friday’s”, at least.
His shift had ended, at most, ten to twenty minutes after Lance had left, and though he gave a smile and a polite wave, the boy was absolutely run down. He knew for a fact his brother wouldn’t be happy with how exhausted he was when he got home.
Instead of taking a car or walking to building one twenty-three, the boy from “Friday’s” took the bus home. He waited on the corner in the snow next to a woman, a woman with beautiful silvery hair, and she gave him a smile as he sat down. “Goodness, you look worse than I do,” she chuckled at him. The boy gave a tired chortle in response.
The kind woman and the boy seemed to be getting on the same bus, but when it got there, they took a seat in different places.
So the boy sat alone on the bus, looking out the window at the snow as it fell rather familiarly on the benches, trees, and building tops. The lights on the trees enchanted him, and he found himself staring at the lights as they all rushed past, all too quickly.
As the bus approached his building his stomach twisted inside of him. He was nervous. Then, as he was getting off the bus, he saw the cane of the boy from the courtyard sitting against building one twenty-two.
The door crashed open as he unlocked it, the wind shoving it in and nearly tearing it off the hinges. “Shiro?” the boy called, stepping in and closing the wooden door behind him.
Shiro stepped down the stairs, glaring at the other in the doorway. “I tell you to get some sleep and what do you do? Go in for work at four in the freaking morning, that’s what! Keith!” There was a yell of the boy from “Friday’s” name as he walked into the kitchen, away from his big brother, to throw some chicken nuggets into the toaster oven.
Keith shuddered uncomfortably as his big brother wrapped his arms around him in a backwards hug. “You’re disgusting Shiro.”
“I’m disgusting and proud.”
“Nerd.”
“Mullet.”
“Is there coffee made?”
Shiro reached across the counter and slid Keith a red mug full of the drink. There was whipped cream on the top, and a drizzle of something tan-ish, caramel perhaps. It seemed likely. Keith brought the cup to his lips, and took a long and rewarding sip.
He hadn’t slept in three days, hadn’t showered in two, and hadn’t had any human interaction since the day before. Secretly, he loved the hug he was wrapped in at the moment.
At the end of the night, Shiro and Keith tuckered into their shared master bed. Keith shivered from the cold, and Shiro brought him closer. “I saw the boy from one twenty-two outside the restaurant today,” he muttered under his breath, letting out a tiny sneeze. Shiro just smiled against Keith’s unusually warm forehead, and both fell into a deep sleep that Keith had been craving since Monday.
The morning was awful. Both Lance and Keith were up super early, at about three in the morning, to open the shops they worked at. Lance, however, had been moved into the location closer to the city for the day, and it seemed like that location was placed directly next to “Friday’s”. He dreaded the day ahead. Lance would be working seventeen hours that day on his own, from six to eleven, and with his loss of a left leg, he knew it wouldn’t go well. Keith only had to work an eight-hour shift, from six to two in the afternoon, just until they stopped serving lunch.
Perhaps he would stop by “V’s Teas and Coffees” on his lunch break and say hello to the boy from building one twenty-two with no left leg.
He wouldn’t be getting a lunch break. Lance knew that for a fact. He was absolutely dreading the day. By the time the first hour was through, Lance had coffee grounds in his hair, a mix of coffee and tea drenching his apron, and tear tracks down his freezing cold cheeks. The heating was broken, and Lance was shivering through his olive green hoodie, sweater, shirt, and apron. His nose and cheeks were once again pink, and the prosthesis was bothering him something fierce. He wasn’t sure he could handle this for another sixteen hours.
Another twenty minutes later, Lance couldn’t stand what he was going through, and picked up his nearly dead phone to call Hunk. He needed help.
Hunk arrived at the tiny shop less than five minutes later, ready with his small chef hat on a headband and his hands shaking as he was excited to get into working with the drinks. He had managed to bring Lance’s wheelchair, and insisted that he wheel around and hand out drinks while Hunk worked on register and making drinks.
On his lunch break, Lance nearly punched Hunk as the burlier boy called Pidge to come examine Lance’s leg.
Five minutes later, Lance’s leg propped up on a couch while no one else was in the shop and he was actually relaxing quietly, Hunk counting money, the boy from “Friday’s” entered “V’s Teas and Coffees”.
Keith’s morning hadn’t gone too well up until his lunch break at eleven in the morning. Actually, it had gone the opposite of well. He was drenched in sweat, but was shivering. He was pretty sure he was ill, but there was no backing out of his shift. The restaurant needed him, as Fridays at “Friday’s” were always hectic.
He’d come into work without eating that morning, and his boss, Ulaz, had made him sit down and eat a waffle from the kitchen before he could get to work. He worked on cleaning tables, cleaning dished, picking up dirty dishes, and dropping off food to customers. He hadn’t gotten a break all morning, running into the kitchen and into the main room and back and forth all morning.
He was relieved when Ulaz told him to get out for his lunch break.
He was craving coffee. He may or may not have also been craving to see the boy from building one twenty-two.
Their eyes met as Keith walked in, and Lance felt his cheeks heat up as the flushed and sweaty other stood in the doorway to the shop. Hunk, at the counter and oblivious to the connection happening between his friend and Keith, called out at Keith, “Hi! Welcome to V’s Teas and Coffees. What can I get ya?”
Keith brought his attention back to reality and stepped up to the counter where Hunk stood. “Uh, small caramel latte, please,” he replied stupidly, handing Hunk a ten. The burly boy gave Keith his change back and promised his drink would be done soon.
Lance felt mortified. The boy he’d been crushing on for months walked into his shop, and the first thing he sees is his admirer’s helpless body lying across a couch and unable to move without screaming.
While Keith waited, he decided to go and talk to Lance. He took a seat on a small stool across from the other and shivered, stifling a sneeze into the elbow of his white and red leather jacket. “Uh, hi. My name’s Keith. If you don’t mind me asking- “
“Ask away. I answer every day.” Lance cut him off, sending him a tired smile. Keith smiled in return and continued what he was going to say.
“How did you lose your leg?”
On the rare occasion Lance remembered, he didn’t like telling the story. This was Keith, though. He had to tell.
So, he began his tale.
Many, many years ago, Lance had been running around with his brothers, sisters, and cousins. He was about four, maybe five, at the time, and had a smile on his face as his laughs were drowned in other laughs from his family. He was playing tag, or maybe it was just to chase each other around for no reason. He’d ran into something and didn’t even notice until the grill his father was using fell on top of him, and a knife sliced rather deeply into little Lance’s leg. Unfortunately, doctor’s had discovered that the torn and damaged tissue would never repair on its own, and they had to amputate the bottom of Lance’s leg for him to be able to be sort of normal.
It was the story of Lance’s life. He told it every day, or had Hunk tell it every day, and he knew all too well the normal responses from people.
Keith’s response was different, though. He reached for Lance’s hands, held the, in his own, and whispered to him, “You are strong, and I’m proud of you.” Lance was destroyed inside. He felt weak, and a bit faint, just from Keith holding his hands.
When Hunk brought over Keith’s drink, the mullet boy let go of the legless boy’s hands and took the latte. He brought it to his lips and took a warm sip. He let out a happy sigh and then stood. “I have to go now. Bye Hunk. I’ll see you later, Lance,” Keith called as he walked out the front door.
Lance sat on the couch, still with his leg propped up, and as Pidge walked through the front door, he nearly fainted.
The boys from building one two two and one two three were like night and day, and the two were very contradicting in terms of personality.
Keith’s shift ended with him saying goodbye to Ulaz, grabbing an apple from the kitchen, and making his way over to V’s. Hunk seemed to have left, and Lance looked like he was running around like a headless chicken. Understandable, because that’s how he felt.
After Hunk left and Pidge adjusted his prosthetic, Lance had been on his own and drowning in customers. The amount of customers seemed to have increased from that morning to that afternoon.
A smirk lied on Keith’s face, and he ducked behind the counter, standing with Lance at the register. Out of the true bleariness he felt, Lance didn’t even notice, and looked about ready to fall over and pass out. “Hi. Welcome to V’s Teas and Coffees. What can I get you?” It was after Keith spoke that Lance noticed he was even there. Keith, seeing Lance’s sudden panic, smiled and took the person’s order.
After Keith took the order, he excused himself and Lance into the back, saying they needed more coffee grounds. As soon as they were in the back room, Lance started yelling at the boy from “Friday’s”.
“I don’t need your help! I can take care of myself! IT’S JUST THAT SOMETIMES I FORGET TO EAT AND FORGET TO SLEEP AND FORGET TO SHOWER AND FORGET TO LOCK THE SHOP AND FORGET HOW LONG MY SHIFTS ARE AND EVEN FORGET THAT I DON’T HAVE A STUPID LEFT LEG!” Lance cried, beginning to sob carefully into the extended sleeves of his hoodie. He was just absolutely breaking down, right in front of his crush. He felt humiliated.
Keith felt out of place all the sudden, but he didn’t even bother feeling that, as he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around a broken Lance. He heard the other boy’s breathing hitch, both of them shuddered in the cold of the shop. “You don’t have to worry,” was all he said, before he began to hum in Lance’s ear to calm him down the best he could.
The shaking of the legless boy eventually stopped, and all that was left was just quiet and small sobs.
At six, Lance took a break.
At seven, Keith left to get them dinner.
At eight, Lance finished his dinner.
At nine, Lance was tired.
At ten, Keith called Shiro to tell him he would be home a bit…late.
At eleven, finally, the coffee shop closed, and Keith invited Lance to ride the bus with him. Considering the recent pains from his prosthetic, he obliged and allowed Keith to pay for a bus ticket for him.
There the two sat, in the very back of the bus. Lance was asleep, his head accidentally falling on Keith’s shoulder. Keith, however, was awake, and became interested in Lance. There were hard bumps under his jeans and, he could imagine that that was wear the prosthesis was connected to Lance’s thigh. He wondered. He’d seen Shiro’s prosthetic before, but seeing Lance’s on his lunch break was like a new awakening. It was like letting a child into a candy store as a child, and then bringing them back in their early adult years.
It was like nostalgia.
Finally, the bus stopped at building one hundred, twenty-two and twenty-three buildings away from Lance and Keith’s flats. They stared at each other in the freezing cold, gazing into each other’s eyes in the moonlight. “Do you need some help back to your flat?”
Although the question had already embarrassed Lance enough, he gave a tiny nod. He didn’t know what he was in for.
Keith swung his arms under Lance’s legs, the other supporting his back, and swept him off his feet so that he was holding him bridal style. From building one hundred to building one twenty-two, Keith carried Lance, and set him carefully at the door of his building after he knocked.
Waiting for the door to open, Keith and Lance still stared at each other. Keith set Lance down, gave him a tiny peck of a kiss on the cheek, and scurried, embarrassedly, away to his flat.