Archive of Our Own

You are seven years old and your name is Agathe, but you like Aggie better. This is how you introduce yourself on your first day at your new school, stumbling a bit over the English that you are unused to speaking. Your twin brother stands up after you and you nervously adjust your glasses as you sit.

This was your first day of school after a big move for your dad’s job. The move involved packing up all of your things, squishing 7 people (you, your mother, father, two brothers, and two sisters) into a car meant for 5, driving to the airport, going from the parking lot to the building in a bus full of people that smelled like sweat, waiting for 2 hours to get on a plane from Cuba to Arizona for 5 hours, and then driving in the same car to your new house. You had slept for most of that time.

Only one of the other kids at school talks to you and Anthony; a girl named Natalie, who speaks English as well as she does Spanish. She helps both of you to understand your work (and Ms. Harris), and yells at the boy (Jason) who yanks on your ponytail.

When you come home that afternoon, Anthony runs to the bathroom, yelling to where mom is, “I have to pee, I’ll be right out!”

She is laughing as you enter the kitchen and her smile is bright and dimpled. “How was your first day of school?” You shrug.

“We made a friend, I think. And a boy pulled on my hair, so she yelled at him for me, and then we told the teacher, but she said that he only did it ‘cause he likes me, which I didn’t get, ‘cause if he liked me, then why would he be so mean to me, so I think Ms. Harris is a liar.” You say all of this in one breath, and suck in air to continue talking, but you are interrupted when your mother gasps and kneels down so that your faces are at the same level.

“Agathe, don’t say things like that! It is a very strong accusation. Though I don’t agree with what your teacher said either, you don’t just go around calling people liars for little things like this. She was probably just telling you what she believed to be true. You did the right thing by telling her that that boy pulled your hair, though. I want you to tell her every single time he does that, okay?”

You nod vigorously and your mom smiles at you and brings you into a warm hug that you return right away. Anthony piles on when he comes in and your grin stretches wider.

“Oh, I was thinking… maybe you two should get pen pals! Someone who you can be friends with wherever you go. I know moving can be hard, but maybe having a new friend would help a little bit. What do you think?”

“That sounds fun. What’s a pen pal?” Anthony asks, and you tilt your head and furrow your eyebrows in confusion. Your mom chuckles.

“It’s a friend you make through letters and emails. They usually live somewhere far away, so you can’t see them, but you can talk to them with your letters.”

“Oh. Okay!”

Your pen pal’s name is Tsuyoshi Garrett. He lives in Samoa (but will be moving to Hawai’i in a few months), has two moms, and just turned 8 last week. His favorite color is orange and you both like space. You decide from his first email that you like Tsuyoshi. Anthony’s pen pal is a boy who lives back home in Cuba. His name is Gavin, and you learn nothing else about him.

Time passes quickly at your new school, and you start to get much better at English, so that Natalie doesn’t need to help you anymore. Anthony slowly stops talking to her so much and becomes friends with some of the other boys in class. You remain friends with her until she moves away in March, and both of you cry on her last day. This is the last time you see her.

Jason still pulls your hair, and you still tell your teacher each and every time, but you don’t think she cares.

Thankfully, school is over in May, and you don’t have to deal with anyone pulling on your hair except for Anthony or Dylan, your other brother, and even then it’s only sometimes. Your family goes swimming at the pool rather than at the beach this summer. You decide that you vastly prefer the beach. The salty breeze, playing in the sand. And the pool doesn’t smell nearly as good.

One of those summer days is particularly memorable; you find out that you have another brother. His name is Julio and he’s 23 years old and he says, when you meet him, that he hasn’t seen you or Anthony since you were babies. You try to wrap your head around it, but it’s hard to process. He’s only a few years younger than your uncle Simon, how could he be your brother?

You decide that you don’t care because he likes to play tag with you and Anthony, and Marie and Dylan remember him, so he must be okay.

Your days are punctuated by emails and letters from Tsuyoshi, and you are pretty sure he’s one of the best friends that you’ve ever had. The more you learn about him, the more you wish you could meet him. He loves animals almost as much as you do, and even in letters, he’s nicer than any other person you’ve ever met, except maybe your mom.

You turn 8 in July and start the second grade in August, even though you should be in third; you were held back on account of your English being so shaky, but you aren’t stupid. You hate when people call you stupid.

When you step in the classroom, you smile wide, because there is no Jason in this class. Your smile becomes a frown when another boy, whose name is Austin, pulls your hair instead. You tell Mr. Nelson, who says the same thing that Ms. Harris told you. “Oh, he just likes you, Aggie, that’s all.” You scowl at him and sit back down. The next time the boy pulls your hair, you punch him.

You and Austin are both escorted to the principal’s office. Both of your parents are called in, and your mother explains about the last year with Jason as you translate for her. The principal, being a sensible and reasonable person who understands that people don’t pull other people’s hair when they like them, takes your side. No one pulls your hair after that.

(Dylan gives you a high-five at home, while your mother gives you a scolding.)

You are finally nine years old and in the third grade when you can’t stop coughing and it gets so much harder to breathe. You think it’s just a cold at first, but after more than a month of coughing so hard that your throat is sore for days and struggling to breathe after even talking for too long, you go to the doctor. She runs several tests and takes an x-ray of your chest, and when you come in a week later, she tells your parents that you are sick. Cancer, she says, and your parents cry. You stare ahead, wide eyed and heart racing. Cancer? But only old people got that, right? Apparently not.

“Is there anything we can do?” your father asks, holding your mother, who is sobbing as she clutches you.

“Well there are medicines to help with the coughing, and to strengthen her immune system, and we can also get her an inhaler to help with breathing. I can go ahead and give you a couple of prescriptions right now. And of course, chemotherapy is an option, although I’m not sure if it’s the best option for her.” She scribbles something down on her clipboard and hands you the paper. “These should help you feel better.” She looks back up at your parents. “Come back if things get worse.”

You and your parents walk out with an inhaler and a paper for two different medicines for you. In the car, you start coughing again, and you can’t stop it, even though your lungs hurt and your throat aches. You pull away your hands and there is blood on them. You lick your lips and you can taste it, coppery and metallic. Your mom, in the backseat with you, starts sobbing again.

At home, you let yourself cry. Your mom rushes to you and you cling to her as you ask, through tears, “Mama, am I gonna die?” Your mother’s voice trembles as she answers.

“We don’t know. We’re doing everything that we can so you don’t but… we just don’t know right now Agathe.”

You nod and pull back, wiping your face. You see, from behind your mother, Anthony run upstairs. You don’t follow.

On Monday, you go back to school. You insisted that you didn’t want to miss any days and that you feel okay. In reality, the medicines only make you feel a little better.

On Thursday, you cough up blood again. You go to the teacher, holding out your hands, and you can see that she just barely keeps herself from screaming.

“Oh my goodness, Aggie, are you okay?” she asks, leaning away from your hands, but peering down at them all the same.

You shake your head. “No. I’m dying.”

Mrs. Crimble’s face immediately goes from one of worry to one of annoyance. “I know this has to be bad, but don’t be so dramatic! I’ll write you a pass to the nurse.”

“But I am! I’ve got cancer, the doctor said so!” You say indignantly.

Mrs. Crimble gives you a disapproving look over her shoulder. “I’m going to let you go to the nurse, but we are going to have a talk about this lying problem of yours when you get back, young lady.” You scowl, but say nothing else. The girl who walks you to the nurse is Katie Holt, the little sister of your older sister, Marie’s, friend. She should be in first grade, but she was smart enough to be moved up to third.

“So you’ve got cancer?” she asks, looking up at you.

“Yeah. It’s in my lungs.”

Katie nods and looks at her feet. “I thought only old people got that.”

You smile. “Me too.”

She looks back up at you. “Does it hurt?”

“Yeah. Mostly only when I cough, but I cough a lot.” As if to prove your point, the sentence dissolves into a coughing fit that brings up more blood. You frown at it.

“Why are you still at school?” You look up from your hands. “You’re not supposed to be at school when you’re sick, you should be at home, getting better.”

You shrug. Katie brings up a good point. She leaves you at the door to the nurse’s office with a “Bye Aggie.”

“Bye Katie!” You call to her back.

You go home early. Looks like Mrs. Crimble’s talk will have to wait.

The same thing happens again, two weeks later, but Katie isn’t there to walk you, and Mrs. Crimble still doesn’t believe you. The third time it happens she tells you “I’m starting to think that you’re just faking it,” and you start to cry. Why would you lie about this? Mrs. Crimble starts to look panicked and quickly writes your pass. This is your last day of school, but you don’t know it at the time.

With all of your doctor’s appointments, you’ve had less and less time to talk to Tsuyoshi, and you don’t know what to tell him. You don’t want him to worry about you, but you also don’t want to just stop talking to him. You decide to stick with saying that you’re sick, which isn’t exactly a lie. And then you feel bad about it, and tell him the whole truth. You also tell him that you are going to the hospital, and you don’t know how long it will be until you talk to him again. You don’t mention that you may never talk to him again.

Two months pass, and you spend your tenth birthday in a hospital bed, hooked up to tubes and machines to help you feel better. At least, they’re supposed to, but you still feel awful.

Your mother smiles at you and rubs a hand over your bald head. “Happy birthday Aggie.” Theresa (your oldest sister, who was 22 now) couldn’t make it from her job out of state, but Julio, Dylan, Marie, and Anthony were all there, along with your mother and father.

“What about Anthony?” you ask, grabbing his hand and pulling him to you. He climbs into the bed with you and puts an arm around your shoulders.

“It’s okay Aggie, they already sang me happy birthday at home. And I got you a present.” You smile at your brother and take the picture he hands you. It’s a photo of your family on Varadero Beach, back in Cuba. You smile and clutch it to your chest with one hand while you squeeze him in a hug with the other.

“My present for you isn’t as good.” You hand Anthony a shakily knit scarf that you had learned to make during your time in the hospital. Your materials were quite limited this year, but Anthony seems to like it.

You fall asleep surrounded by your family and feeling pretty good, no thanks to the hospital machines. You think it was a fairly decent birthday, all things considered.

You die for the first time three weeks later. Only for a few minutes, but for those few minutes, you felt nothing and saw nothing. Suddenly your eyes fly open and you take a deep breath, heart racing as if it were trying to make up for the beats it lost while you were… dead. You were actually dead, for a whole two minutes!

The doctors around you are very relieved, and you find yourself glad that none of your family was there. You knew that they would find out, but it wouldn’t be as bad as if they were with you. There was the morning for that, either way. Right now, you were very cold, and you pulled your hat lower over your ears and asked for another blanket.

You would be alright, you thought, if only everything could be as warm and soft as a blanket.

You are ten years old and done with chemotherapy. Your hair is still very short, but it’s slowly growing back, fuzzy and fun to play with. And no one can pull on it now.

You returned home to find several emails from Tsuyoshi, to which you respond immediately. You tell him that you are okay, and that you feel a lot better, even if you do still feel a little sick. Your doctor told you that this was normal, and to come back if there were any problems.

This was five months earlier. Today, you are getting braces, and you are not happy about this at all. Anthony is there to laugh at you when they put them on. They hurt worse than anything you have ever experienced, including when you broke two of your fingers when you were 4, and each and every time you coughed up blood. Your mom says that you’re overreacting, but you swear that you’re not.

“It’s worse than dying Mama, I would know,” you say on the way home.

Your mother is silent for a moment before she says, “Don’t joke about that Agathe. It isn’t funny to me, even if it is to you. We could’ve lost you forever.”

You shrink into yourself. “I know. Sorry Mama.”

The rest of the ride home is in silence.

You start off middle school with new glasses, freshly tightened braces, and Anthony by your side in all of your classes but one: art. He wanted to take band, so you go into your art class alone. Your teacher, Mx. Lenell, is fun, and you decide from the first day that your favorite class is art.

One kid asks about the ‘Mx.’ part of Mx. Lenell, and your teacher smiles. “It means I’m not a man or a woman, so I don’t use Mr. or Mrs. I’m agender. I’d love to teach you all about it, but that’s not what I’m paid to teach, so let’s get onto art!”

You talk about them all on the bus ride home to Anthony, who looks intrigued. “So, they’re not a man or a woman?” You shake your head. “Wow. I wish I could be like that.”

“I don’t see why not,” you say. Anthony smiles wide and you smile back.

“But wait,” he says, face screwing up in confusion. “I don’t know anything about it.”

“The internet, Anthony. It exists for a reason.”

“Oh. Right.”

You and Anthony go to the computer as soon as you get home.

“What should we look up?” you ask.

Anthony’s face crumples up in thought. “What did your teacher call it?”

“It was… agender, I think. Try that.” You watch as he types ‘agender’ into the search bar. A definition is the first result. You keep scrolling down and see a striped flag and several websites that talk about genders. Just as Anthony clicks on one, your mother pokes her head through the door from the living room.

“There you are! What are you kids up to?” She walks into the room and peers over your shoulders.

“My art teacher is agender and we wanted to learn more about it, so we came here as soon as we got home,” you say, craning your neck backwards to look at your mom’s face. She squints down at the computer.

“A…gender? What is that?”

“Aggie’s teacher said it was when you aren’t a man or a woman, and this is saying it means you don’t have a gender at all. Mama, do you know anyone with no gender?”

Both you and Anthony are looking at your mom now. She frowns and shakes her head. “I can’t say I do. Well, you two enjoy your research. But don’t stay in here too long! You know I don’t like you staring at these screens for so long.”

“Yes Mama!” you and Anthony chime in unison.

Later, before bed, you see your mother on the computer, muttering to herself about genders and how there could possibly be so many. You pause with your foot on the bottom step for a moment, and then continue on upstairs.

It’s probably not important.

At 12 years old, your mom and dad announce that there’s going to be a new baby soon. You are overjoyed. You love kids and you love being around them, but especially Julio’s daughter, Ella. She’s only 2, but she is the cutest baby you’ve ever seen.

You’re a little worried that the same thing that had happened between you and Anthony and Julio will happen with this new baby, but the age gap isn’t quite as big and you don’t plan on going anywhere for a while, so you aren’t super worried about it.

When you and Anthony are in your room later, he seems a little bit put out.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

Anthony huffs and falls back onto his bed. “I’m not gonna be the youngest anymore.”

You try not to laugh, but ultimately you fail.

“What? I’m serious Aggie!”

“But you were barely the youngest before! We’re mostly tied for that.”

Anthony rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but those 5 minutes still count!”

You chuckle and ruffle his hair. “Whatever. I’m gonna get a snack.”

Anthony scrambles up from the bed, calling out, “Wait for me!”

Several months later, your parents find out that the baby will be a girl. And then everyone else finds out.

“We’re going to name her Rosie. What do you think?”

“I like it,” Marie chimes in, glancing up from her homework.

“Me too!” Anthony says.

“It’s pretty,” you add.

“Good,” your mom says. “Because that’s what we’re naming her whether you like it or not!” She laughs at herself and the rest of you laugh with her.

Rosie decides about 8 months in that she’s tired of being in a womb and would very much like to be on the outside of it.

Marie stays with you and Anthony while your dad takes your mom to the hospital.

“Is mama gonna be okay?” Anthony asks.

“Yeah. She’s done this before. I remember when you guys were born, but I was only 6. Dylan and Theresa and Julio were all so calm and I was freaking out, because mama sounded like she was in so much pain.” Marie laughs at herself.

“Thinking back, it was kinda funny. Just a little six-year-old crying while all her siblings are trying to calm her down. But don’t worry. Papa’s gonna call in to make sure we’re okay and to tell us how mama is. And, we got money for pizza!”

You and Anthony grin and yell “Pizza!” at the same time.

The worst part of the whole thing (at least, on your part) was the waiting. Waiting to see your mom, waiting to see Rosie, waiting to get out of the house and to the hospital and to know that your mother and new baby sister are okay.

It takes a whole day for your dad to pop in to get the three of you. On the ride to the hospital, you can’t help but bounce in your seat. You don’t know if you’ve ever been this excited about anything in your life. You couldn’t stop blabbing about it to Tsuyoshi. And who could blame you? You were officially a big sister proper! Not an older twin by barely five minutes but a big sister! You wonder if your other siblings had ever felt the same way, or if they were more like Anthony; excited and happy, of course, but disappointed to no longer be the youngest, or, in Julio’s case, only child.

You think the worst part is the waiting room. Here you were, so close to finally meeting your baby sister, and still so far! Not only that, but ever since you had died… you didn’t like hospitals. The rest of your family (aunts, uncles, cousins, siblings) looks as anxious as you feel.

You look over to Anthony, who’s chewing on his lip. He pauses to shoot you a quick smile, then goes right back to his gnawing.

The family is let in in waves. First, your aunts and uncles on your mom’s side… then your dad’s side… then the cousins…

Then, finally, you are let into your mother’s hospital room. She holds a sleeping Rosie close to her chest.

Your mom smiles at everyone, making soft shushing noises so that Rosie won’t wake up.

“Hi,” says your mother. You wave back excitedly, leaning around Theresa so that you can see.

Rosie is a lot smaller than you would have thought. She’s tiny and wrinkly, and almost entirely bald. To keep her warm, the hospital gave her a small hat and a blanket (that later finds its way home).

You say the first thing that comes to mind, which is, “She’s so small.” You parents chuckle softly.

“Yes. Most newborn babies are, but she is especially so, because she was born a little earlier than expected,” your dad explains. You look from Rosie to him and back to Rosie. Your next thought is that Rosie won’t be able to sleep with your dad’s snoring, but you don’t put that one into words.

Looking back at Rosie, you vow to yourself that you will be the best big sister ever, no matter what it takes.

None of your siblings seem quite as interested in Rosie as you are. Julio, Theresa, and Dylan all have to go back to their various schools and jobs and families, and Marie is busy getting ready to leave for college in a few months, and you’re pretty sure that Anthony is still hurt about not being the youngest.

When you ask, he shrugs and says, “I don’t know, she’s just not really interesting. She doesn’t do anything. And I don’t know if I like kids all that much anyway.”

You don’t ask him any more questions, because that seems like a solid enough answer to you. Besides, it gives you room to fully take shape as ‘the best big sister ever.’

You are around Rosie at any given opportunity, which isn’t often, considering that you still have school (since it’s only April), your mom has to feed her, and she sleeps a lot. But when you can, you sit with her on her blankie (that you knitted yourself, while your mom was pregnant) and hold out various toys for her to grab from your hands (and chew on when she starts teething).

Your mother doesn’t let you hold her until she’s three months old and the first time that you get to, you almost start crying. Your dad directs you on where to put your hands to best support her, and Rosie, with the widest, roundest eyes you’ve ever seen, looks up at you and giggles.

You’ve never been prouder of anything else in your life.

When you are 13 years old (almost 14, you argue, but your birthday is still several months away and no one takes you seriously), puberty starts to hit you in full force. And you don’t like this at all. You are uncomfortable with your slowly developing chest and the way that boys are paying more attention to you (you’re paying more attention to the girls at any rate). You absolutely hate getting your period, and everything that comes with it. However, you think the worst thing about all of it is acne. It’s everywhere and it’s painful, not to mention noticeable, and on top of it all, it’s just plain annoying.

Anthony shares (some of) the sentiment. Mostly in regard to acne.

You start to wear bigger and baggier shirts, and winter is a blessing to you, because it lets you wear big sweaters without completely suffocating. You take Mx. Lenell’s art class again in 7th grade, and they are still your favorite teacher. You feel like you learn a lot from them, and not only just about art.

You sit in their classroom for lunch most days, and sometimes Anthony will join you. It is one of these days in mid-February, when you say quietly, “I don’t think I like being a girl.”

Mx. Lenell swallows their bite and leans on their desk. “Why do you think that is?”

You shrug. “I don’t know. I still like pretty things like dresses and stuff, but I don’t like my body. I don’t feel comfortable. Is that normal?”

Mx. Lenell gives you a small smile. “Well, you’re going through a big change right now. There are a lot of kids who start to dislike their body around puberty. Usually it’s certain parts of the body like their faces or legs or stomachs. What don’t you like about yours?”

You slump back in your chair. “I don’t know. Any of it? But I guess… my chest, mostly. I liked it flat. And I think sometimes that I might not be a girl at all. What do I do if I’m not a girl?”

“Do whatever makes you most comfortable.”

You think on this for a moment. “Okay. I think… I think I wanna be a boy. Is that okay?” You turn to Anthony when you ask this.

“Yeah! And, um, as long as we’re talking about it… I think I’m more like you, Mx. Lenell. I’m not a boy, but I’m not a girl either. I kinda started to figure it out last year.” You grin at Anthony and hold out your hand for a high-five. Then the bell rings.

“Alright, well you two should get to class. Feel free to come to me if you have more questions, or look online if there’s something I can’t answer. There is a lot on this subject, so I’m sure you’d learn a lot. See you in class Aggie!”

You walk to your next class with Anthony, grinning.

“Hey Aggie?”

“Hm?”

“I don’t wanna use him anymore. I wanna start using them.”

“Okay. Do you wanna tell Mama?”

Anthony shakes their head. “No. I… Not yet. Let’s just keep this a secret okay? You, me, and Mx. Lenell. Pinky swear?”

You smile and hold out your pinky finger. “Pinky swear. Oh, wait! I’m gonna tell Tsuyoshi about me, okay?”

“Tsuyoshi?”

“My pen pal! Remember? He’s like my best friend. Right after you, of course.”

“Oh. Okay, sure. You can tell him about me too, if you want.”

“Alright! But no one else yet.”

Anthony nods sharply. “No one else.”

You walk into class just as the bell rings.

Later that day, after you come home and say hi to your mom and Rosie, you go to the computer and start to type up a message to Tsuyoshi.

starkid.mcclain: Hey bud! I have something really important to tell you, and there’s no way to skirt around it, so I guess I just gotta tell you right out. I’m not a girl. I’m a boy. The whole term for it is transgender, so that’s what I am. I thought you should know. Also, Anthony is nonbinary. I just looked that one up. So I guess that’s it! Later Tsu!

Right before you hit send, you hear from behind you, “What are you writing Aggie?” You jump and move your body to hide the screen from the view of your brother Dylan, who is visiting from college.

“Nothing!” you say, voice squeaking on the first syllable.

Dylan raises an eyebrow. “Let me see that screen.”

“No!”

Dylan frowns at you and moves his hands to your sides, picking you up and moving you away from the screen.

As your brother reads the email, you scramble up from the floor and say, “Dylan, no! That’s private!”

Dylan holds out his arm to keep you from doing anything as he finishes reading the message. Then he turns to look at you and drops his arm. “You’re a boy?” he says quietly, and the sudden switch to English makes the whole thing feel even more secretive than it already did.

Your face is warm and you nod, not wanting to speak.

Dylan straightens up and pats you on the back. “Alright. Who else knows?”

You are a little bit shocked at the question. It wasn’t what you had expected at all. “Um… Just Anthony and my art teacher… and I uh, I was gonna send that to Tsuyoshi.” As Dylan nods, you blurt out, “Please don’t tell anyone! I wanted to do it, but I’m not ready yet and I just don’t want Mama or Dad or anyone else to be mad, and please please please don’t hate me for not telling you-”

Dylan shushes you gently. “Hey, it’s okay. I could never hate you. And I promise I won’t tell anyone unless you say I can.”

You nod rapidly. After a few more breaths, you say, “You’re a lot more… accepting… than I thought you’d be when you read that.”

Dylan looks at you for a second before chuckling. “Aggie, I’ve lived and gone to school in probably one of the most liberal states in this country for the past five years. And besides that, you’re family. How could I be anything other than accepting?”

You feel tears starting to prick your eyes, and you rush forward to bury your face in Dylan’s chest. He laughs and squeezes you in a tight hug. You move back and wipe your eyes. “Thanks.”

“No problem. And uh, sorry for forcing this from you. I just, I wanted to make sure you weren’t getting into any trouble, you know? You’re my kid sister. I mean, brother. Sorry.”

You grin. “It’s okay.”

The reply from Tsuyoshi comes about three hours later.

tsutsugarrett: Hey! That’s awesome! My ma is trans too, so she and my titi have taught me a looooooooot about it. Do you want me to start using another name for you? Just let me know what you want me to do dude!

You grin and write your reply.

starkid.mcclain: I haven’t really thought about names or anything yet at all. I really only thought about the gender stuff itself today, at least to the point where I figured this out, but when I come up with a name, I’ll let you know! I guess for now just keep calling me Aggie. Thanks for being so great all the time!!!

tsutsugarrett: Haha! I’m not that great, I promise.

starkid.mcclain: Shut up you beautiful and perfect being.

tsutsugarrett: Hey! I’m being honest! I get mad sometimes, and I can be really mean. I’m just not like that with you because you’re my best friend and you haven’t given me a reason… yet.

starkid.mcclain: Oh man! I can’t believe that you are secretly a savage, Tsuyoshi Garrett.

tsutsugarrett: Please never call me a savage again. I love you too much to watch you throw away your life like this.

starkid.mcclain: Okay, okay!

tsutsugarrett: Thank you.

starkid.mcclain: Ooh! So there’s this school over in Nevada, and it’s completely dedicated to space exploration! My science teacher just told me about it today. They have a test you can take to get in, and they have all the stuff you need on the website and it’s so cool Tsu!!!

tsutsugarrett: What, really? What’s it called???

starkid.mcclain: The Galaxy Garrison.

tsutsugarrett: Woah!!! That sounds awesome!

starkid.mcclain: I know!! I really wanna get in, but you have to be at least 14 to even take the test, and you can’t actually attend the school until you’re 15.

tsutsugarrett: Aw man. Bummer.

starkid.mcclain: Yeah. I gotta go buddy, but I’ll talk to you later, yeah?

tsutsugarrett: Totally! Later Aggie!

You power off the computer and sit back, pleased with the conversation, then jump up when your mother calls you for dinner for the second time. It’s empanada night, and you don’t want to miss that.

You opt to take the test for the Garrison just after your 14th birthday, your present from everyone being “some peace and quiet” while you study; this test is probably the most important one you’ll ever take.

At this point, you’re trying out the name José, after your uncle, but, like the name of Robert before that, you don’t think it’s working for you. The only people who know are Anthony, Tsuyoshi, and Rosie (who you told in secret). You’ve decided to wait to come out to everyone until after you’ve passed the test (you don’t let yourself think ‘if’ you pass).

The night before you are supposed to take it, you can hardly sleep. You’re so excited and nervous and jittery that you don’t know how you’ve ever slept at all. You eventually pass out at around 2 in the morning.

You’re still nervous as you walk into the Garrison testing center. You look at the slip of paper you were handed with your testing number, trying to find your seat. Before you can, you hear someone call out “José!” from behind you, and you turn around, wondering if it could be Tsuyoshi. Sure enough, you see him walking towards you as fast as he can from between all of the desks and people.

You grin and start walking back towards him. “Hey Tsu!” you say, and he crushes you in a bear hug, your feet lifting from the floor momentarily.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, once you catch your breath.

“I’m taking the test!” he says happily.

You raise an eyebrow. “And you didn’t tell me? I can’t believe this, betrayed by my own best friend!”

“Well, I wanted it to be a surprise. So… surprise!”

You feel a smile creep up your face despite yourself. “You know, I think we oughta start calling you Hunk. I mean, just look at you! The very definition of ‘tall, dark, and handsome.’ And your hair is gorgeous.” Tsuyoshi rolls his eyes and puts a hand over each of your faces. You laugh and remove the one on your face, adjusting your glasses. “We should go find our seats buddy. See you after?” He grins and nods eagerly.

You find your seat and sit down. To your left is a boy who looks about your age slumped down in his seat so far that his chin sits on the desk. His arms are stretched out in front of him and the sleeves of his too-big jacket hang over the edge.

Not only does he distract you from the proctor heading to the front, but he also makes you further question your identity. Does liking guys make you gay? You think it must, since you are a guy, but you aren’t even sure if you only like guys. Girls are really pretty and nice, and nonbinary people are pretty cool too, from your experience.

‘Why must everything be so hard?’ you internally lament.

You feel your face heat up a little when he glances over at you and you give yourself whiplash when you turn your head back to face the front. You glance back from the corner of your eye, and you see him making a face of confusion at you before turning back to the front himself. You realize that the instructor is speaking then, as the TA passes out tests and scantrons.

When he comes down your row, passing the papers out left and right, he pauses for a moment to ruffle the cute boy’s hair and says quietly, “Good luck Keith.” So his name is Keith, huh? You file that information away for later.

The written test is… surprisingly easy. Then again, you studied for weeks beforehand, so it shouldn’t be too shocking.

Next comes the physical exam. This is hell for you. You’ve always hated gym, but when you went back to school after chemo, it seemed worse than it’d been. You could barely run without some serious chest pain, but you were determined to keep going in the test, no matter how much it hurt.

By the end of it, you were struggling to breathe and your vision was swimming before you. Commander Iverson stood in front of you as you were wheezing, yet to stand back up.

“What are you doing? Get up!” he barked. You tried to stand but your vision started going spotty from the effort. You flopped back down and shook your head.

“Can’t… breathe…” you managed to wheeze out in between labored breaths.

“You’re talking, aren’t you? Talking takes breath. Now stand up!”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake, can’t you see that she’s having an asthma attack? Get her to the medic or something!” It’s the boy from earlier. Keith. You half smile, grateful for the support. You elect to ignore the ‘she’ part of it; it’s not like he would know.

Of course, asthma hadn’t even occurred to you. You just thought it might’ve been a side effect of chemo. Or lung cancer. Or both.

Iverson looks from you to Keith and back again. “Is this true?”

You shrug helplessly. You’re really starting to get dizzy now though, and you’d very much like it to stop. However, since there is no way in that moment for you to communicate this nonverbally, you suffer. And then you pass out.

It’s only 30 minutes later when you wake up. Tsuyoshi is sitting next you, bouncing his leg nervously. Also in the room is a nurse and, surprisingly, Keith.

“Oh good, you’re awake. You can take of the mask,” the nurse tells you over his shoulder before stepping out.  You then notice the breathalyzer attached to your face. You take it off and set it gently on the counter beside you.

“Okay, I can understand Tsuyoshi being here, but why are you here?” you ask Keith. He flushes and looks down at his lap.

“I carried you here. And I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he says, almost too quiet to hear.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Uh, I’m Keith, by the way.” He holds out his hand to shake. “What’s your name?”

You look at his hand deciding on what to say. “I’m uh, I’m trying out José right now, but it’s not really working for me.”

“Oh! I- I didn’t realize you were- I mean, not that it’s a bad thing, I just didn’t- well, I said she earlier, and I try not to assume but- sorry. I’m. I am too.”

You grin. “Cool! Hey, how do you know the TA? I heard him wish you luck when he was passing out the tests.”

Keith’s face immediately goes from flustered to annoyed. “Oh. Yeah. He’s my brother.”

Suddenly, you all hear, faintly, “Keith!”

“Speaking of which, I gotta go.” Keith all but runs out of the door. A few minutes later he and his brother are heard bickering as they pass by.

It’s not until after they can no longer be heard that Tsuyoshi turns on you with a smug grin on his face.

“What?” you ask.

“You like him!” he says teasingly. You feel your traitorous face heat up and deny the claim. Tsuyoshi just smiles.

“Hey, um, what did they say about my test?” you ask, suddenly serious and a little anxious.

“Oh. Well, the physical part was the last one. And they said you were still in consideration for admission, because you did complete the test before you passed out.”

You fist pump and say, “Yes! I didn’t die for them to not even give me a chance,” right as the nurse walks back in.

He raises his eyebrows but doesn’t comment on it. “Here’s a recommendation for a doctor for your asthma.” You take the paper, smile at the nurse, and walk out of the sick bay, Tsuyoshi following. Despite everything, you feel it was a good day.

It’s several weeks before you get your scores mailed back to you. Your family is crowded around you and it feels like even the house is holding its breath. You rip open the envelope and quickly scan the page for your scores. You need at least 945 out of 1050 to get in. When you get to the numbers you can hardly believe your eyes. The number staring back at you is 987.

“I got in,” you whisper, hardly daring to believe it. “I got in!” you say again, much louder. There’s a section in the letter where it says where you were in terms of other testers and how you did on each section, but you don’t care about that right now. You’re still basking in the excitement of having got in at all.

“Aggie, I’m so proud of you! I’m going to cook your favorite tonight. Oh I’m so happy!”

You smile at your mom and decide that you don’t want to ruin the celebration by coming out. It can wait. And besides that, you’re worried about what everyone will say. You’ve been their little Aggie your whole life, you can’t go switching things up on them now. It can wait, you tell yourself.

While your parents cook a celebratory dinner, you go to the computer to tell Tsuyoshi, and Anthony follows you.

As you type up your message, Anthony shuffles their feet behind you and says, “So you’re going to this school then?”

“Yeah. It’s cool right?”

“Heh. Yeah. Um. Are we still gonna be, y’know…friends?”

You turn in the chair to face them. “Anthony, of course we will! I’m gonna write home every week and call every day. And I’ll write one letter just for you. I’m not gonna just disappear into space without warning or something else ridiculous.”

“It’s just… It’s so far away. And I know you’re gonna make a bunch of new friends who like space more than me and who are interested in the same things as you and… I just wanna make sure. Because you’re my best friend.”

“Aww, Tony!” You wrap your arms around them. “Even if I do make all of these so-called ‘friends’ none of them will ever ever compare to a twin. And you’re my best friend too. Got it?” Anthony nods on your shoulder. “Besides, I’m not even going for another year.”

“Oh. Right. I knew that.”

You laugh, wondering how you ever could have possibly been worried.

At 15, you finally decide to come out. It’s on your birthday, so the logic you’re using is that no one is allowed to get mad at you on your birthday.

You’ve run the plan by Anthony and they agree. You’ll come out first because you’re the older twin, and they’ll go right after you. And however your family reacts, at least you’ll have each other. And Dylan.

Right after cake and just before presents, you stand up at the front of the den and loudly clear your throat.

“Um, I have something important to say, and I hope it won’t change how you think of me, but it’s something that I have to tell you.” You swallow past the lump in your throat and try to keep your knees from shaking. Once you have everyone’s attention you clear your throat again and say, “So, um. Okay. This is a secret I’ve been keeping for a while now. I’m a boy. It’s called ‘transgender’ and I’ve felt this way for a while, so I know it’s not a phase. And I’d like to be called Lance.”

There’s silence for a moment before your father starts laughing. You feel nervous and a little hurt as you chew on your lip. “Oh thank goodness!” he says, wiping a tear from his eye. “I thought you were going to say you were pregnant!”

“Dad! I’m only 15! Why would you even think that?” you say, bringing your arms up around your body.

“You never know these days,” he says, providing no other comment.

You move to sit as Anthony takes your place at the front. “Well, now that Lance is done with his announcement, I have one of my own. I’m nonbinary. I use they and them pronouns, but the same name. That’s all.” They sit back down and you grin at them.

Your mother turns to them and raises her eyebrows. “Did you two plan this?” You and Anthony nod.

“No one is allowed to be mad at us on our birthday,” you explain. She chuckles.

“You know, you guys are just like your uncle Simon. In more ways than one now.”

It takes you a minute to understand what your mom means by that and Anthony seems to get it at the same time you do. “Uncle Simon is trans?” Anthony asks. Mom nods.

“Yep. He was so scared to come out to us, but we didn’t care. As long as he was himself, that was all that mattered.” She hesitates for a second before asking, “Is there anything either of you need?”

“Would you be mad if me and Lance traded some clothes?” Anthony asks.

“And can I get a binder before I leave? Oh, and I wanna change my name, too. Legally.”

“As long as you both agree on what to trade, and… Lance. I’ll see what I can do.” You and Anthony both go in to squeeze your mom at the same time, and the rest of your family piles on.

“Can we open our presents now?” you ask, and everyone laughs as you all move to the kitchen. How did you get so lucky?

It only takes a week for your binder to arrive and you don’t wear a regular shirt for at least another week after that. Only one more month until you leave for the Galaxy Garrison and you go to court to legally change your name (it would’ve been longer until you actually even got a court date, but your dad apparently has a lot of friends in the legal system willing to do him a favor). It takes several hours, but you think that the wait is more than worth it. Anthony comes with you and your dad as moral support, they say, but you think they were just bored. You get your hair cut later and you marvel at how light your head feels without the ponytail hanging off of it.

It’s another 2 days when Anthony’s glasses come in. You tease them about it, mostly as payback for all the times they teased you (for both your glasses and your braces), but they know that it’s all in good fun.

As the weeks bleed into days before you are due to leave, you feel even more anxious and excited. You can hardly believe that you’re actually going to the most advanced school dedicated solely to space exploration in the country! On your last day before leaving, Anthony shuts themself in your shared room, refusing to talk to you. You aren’t sure what you might’ve done wrong, but you’re hurt, to say the least. (You cry for at least an hour.)

Almost a half hour before you leave, you’re banging on the door.

“Anthony, come on! It’s not like I’ll be gone forever! I’m coming back in two months!”

You’re still banging your fist on the door when suddenly it opens. You almost fall forward into Anthony, who is wiping their eyes. Were they… crying?

“Oh, Tony… c’mere.” You pull them into a hug and rock from side to side on your feet. “It’s okay. I’ll be back for fall break, and Christmas, and spring break. And then I’ll be here for three months in June! I’m gonna call and write all the time, and I’ll even video call when I get the chance. But if you just shut me out, then I can’t say bye.”

You hear a sniff from Anthony. “I’m just afraid that when you do come back, you’ll be a completely different person.”

“Nuh uh! And even if I am, I’ll always be your brother, and you’ll always be my best friend.” Another sniff.

“Okay. Pinky swear?”

“Pinky swear.”

After only a week at the Garrison, you declare Keith your “rival.”

“He’s always trying to one-up me,” you complain to Hunk. (The nickname really caught on, and now, nearly everyone calls him that.)

“I don’t think he’s trying to,” Hunk offers. You simply glare at Keith as he walks across the cafeteria.

“That makes it even worse! Ugh, I can’t believe I used to think he was cute.” Right. Used to. “I mean, just look at that stupid mullet of his!”

Hunk tilts his head and squints. “I don’t know dude. It looks like he’s just growing it out.”

“Of course it’s a mullet. Sure, not a typical 80’s style mullet, but like… a rockstar mullet! You know, like Joe Jonas in Camp Rock?”

Hunk squints a little more at Keith. “Yeah, okay, I can see it now.”

You smile, satisfied, and go back to eating your lunch.

Next is P.T. and you don’t know why they scheduled it right after lunch, but it was an awful idea and whoever thought of it should be fired. It adds on to the list of awful things you hate about gym class. Running, sweating, can’t breathe (both because of asthma and your binder now), you either have to have Hunk stand in front of you while you change or wait until the locker room is empty, making you late, and now, almost throwing up because you were running directly after eating.

It’s even worse for Hunk, with his weak stomach, poor guy.

Keith, of course, with his stupid mullet in a stupid ponytail doesn’t break a sweat.

Any time that you can take a break, you do, trying to avoid an asthma attack. You know that you can opt out of P.T. at any time, but you have to prove that you are at least as good as your classmates, if not better. So you settle for short breaks to catch your breath and use your inhaler if needed.

“You call that running, ladies? Pick up the pace!” You groan internally, but do as the instructor says. You don’t want to risk getting booted, even if it means killing your lungs.

By the time P.T. is over, you’re about ready to collapse on the floor. Hunk walks over to you and slings one of your arms over his shoulder and helps you back into the locker room.

You hide behind Hunk and change as quickly as possible. From across the room, you spy Keith buttoning up his uniform. You angrily pull on your shirt and do up the buttons.

“Ready when you are,” you say to Hunk once you’ve finished getting dressed. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and you lean into him as you both walk down the hall, trailing behind your classmates.

The rest of your day goes fairly smoothly. All of the first years have the same schedule, regardless of age, so you see the same people in each class, know exactly where to go (because everyone is going the same way), and sit with Hunk at every opportunity. And if he catches you staring (glaring, you would insist) at a certain someone with an absolutely hideous mullet, then that’s no one’s business but your own.

You do like the Garrison, of course, you love it. You worked hard to get into the school in the first place, it’s just… The Galaxy Garrison isn’t at all what you expected. It was advertised more as being fun and friendly and all about space, but so far it was mostly strict teachers and being herded from class to class. So all in all, like any average high school, you would assume, except for the course material.

So far, in your week of experience, your favorite class was astronomy. Mapping out the stars and the best paths to take for any given trip, it was all so cool to you. You had always loved looking at the stars, and now you were getting graded for it! Who wouldn’t love that?

Your next favorite thing about the Garrison is rooming with Hunk. From a great pen pal to an even better roommate. Aside from the snoring. But that you could get used to. You had slept in the bed with your parents on multiple occasions, and your dad was quite the snorer.

At night, you tell Hunk, “Man, I really wanna be a fighter pilot. That would be so cool don’t you think?”

“Ehhhh, if that’s your thing, I guess.” You hear him shift to his side and you do the same so you now face each other. “I think I’d wanna be an engineer. Nice and safe and on the ground. And you’d get to see how the ships work! I’ve always wanted to know how planes and rockets and ships stay in the air like that. I mean, gravity should pull them down, but it doesn’t! …Usually.”

You smile. “Hate to burst your bubble buddy, but they need engineers on the ships. If you’re going on a months-long trip, what are you gonna do if your ship breaks down or something starts malfunctioning and you don’t have an engineer? You can’t do anything about it unless you know something yourself, and it’s not like there’s a pit stop on Mars.”

Hunk groans and puts a pillow over his face. When he resurfaces, he glares at you and says, “I know they need them on the ships, but they need them on the ground too. Why can’t I do that?”

“It’s a space exploration program, Tsu. Which means you have to do some exploring eventually.”

Hunk sticks out his tongue at you just as the lights go out.

“Night Lance.”

“Night Hunk.”

Your year only gets better from then, despite all of the dumb nicknames you get. (The most common ones are ‘The Tailor’ and ‘Grandma’ mostly because of how much you knit in your free time. You don’t quite mind them, though.) As time goes on, you start getting to more and more interesting topics, and you get to being way more hands on. You even get to help with building one of the ships at one point.

One particularly memorable class period was when you get to talk to the team of the upcoming Kerberos mission; Sam and Matt Holt and Takashi Shirogane. You, of course, are psyched, but Keith doesn’t seem so excited. Not that you were paying any attention to that mullet head. Still, you can’t help but wonder why.

After a while, you decide to stop worrying so much, and talk to Matt.

“Hey!” you yell out, waving to get his attention. He looks over to you, curious. “Hey,” you say again, once you catch up to him.

“Uh, hi? Sorry, but, do I know you?”

You feel yourself blushing. “Uh, kind of. You were friends with my sister? Marie?”

His face screws up in concentration, then changes suddenly to one of recognition. “The McClains! Right, right. What was your name again?”

You shuffle your feet. “Um. Well, it’s Lance, now.”

“Okay! Well, it’s nice to re-meet you Lance!” He turns back to see the rest of his team leaving. “I gotta run, but tell your sister I said hi yeah?” He runs off, and you’re left nodding at where he had just been. You walk back over to Hunk and say, in quiet amazement, “I can’t believe I knew an astronaut before he was an astronaut.”

Despite all of this, by the end of the year, you are ready to go home for longer than a few weeks at a time. What can you say? You miss your room. More than that, though, you miss your family. Your mom’s hugs, Anthony’s joking, your dad’s steady presence in the house, Rosie’s giggling.

Your dad is the one who comes to pick you up, and Anthony is riding in the front seat. You stick your bag into the back and slide in next to it, right behind your twin, and you breathe in the familiar scent that you can only describe as home.

The summer goes much faster than you would’ve liked it to, and before you know it, you’re back off to the Garrison. But, Hunk is your roommate again, and you couldn’t be happier about that.

The school year is… eventful.

In November, the Kerberos mission launches, and six months later, it is reported that the mission failed, and the three members of the team are dead. Everyone is shocked. They were all so well trained, and the ship was literally built to last everything short of nuclear warfare. What could have possibly happened?

Some people suspect it was aliens, but few believe them. Keith is an extremely vocal advocate of this.

He even goes so far as to argue with teachers and other students when they suggest otherwise. During one class, early in May, he yells out to Iverson, “You and I both know that they were too well trained for it to be a result of crew error! The ship was built perfectly, checked for flaws again and again, Shiro and Sam and Matt were trained for years, and you still want us to believe that it was ‘crew error?’ That’s bullshit!”

Iverson blows up at that. “Go to the front office, cadet! I will be there to discuss your punishment shortly!”

Keith storms out, grumbling the whole way. As he passes you, you hear him say something like, “…a head full of lead…” but you aren’t quite sure. Keith doesn’t come back to school after that.

On a lighter (and earlier) note, when you go home for break in December, your family surprises you with T Injections. (You don’t complain about it being your only present, because wow it’s a great present.)

Anthony says to you, in private, “I had to try so hard to keep it a secret from you in my letters. There were a few times when I almost slipped up.”

“I don’t think I would’ve been able to keep this a secret. I’d wanna tell everyone. But I’m glad you lasted, because sure, it’s still great, but things are just better when they’re surprises.” You squeeze each other and you feel happier than you even know how to express.

Hunk announces to you, late on the night of his birthday, that his parents will be moving up to Arizona to be closer to the school.

“Hey, we’ll be so much closer!” you yell out excitedly. “We’ll be able to see each other over the summer! Aw man, this is gonna be so awesome!”

Hunk laughs. “Yeah. I can’t wait.”

Your class even gets to start flying the simulators. You’re not very good at it, but you’re only at the class of cargo pilot, so even if you do ever go out flying in an actual ship, it’s not like it’s all that important. This is what you tell yourself anyway, but it’s not much of a reassurance to you.

Of course, right after the simulators, it’s time for P.T. and the class is way more physical and extensive than it had been the year before. You can’t even count the amount of asthma attacks you have in the first three months alone.

In October, you start tentatively dating a girl by the name of Ana. You are very nervous and excited about this, considering that it’s the first semi-serious relationship you’ve been in. (It’s the first relationship you’ve ever been in, but that’s something you’d rather keep quiet.)

For the first month and a half, it’s good. You talk to each other in the halls and don’t argue and you even sit together at lunch sometimes. After that, however, it kind of goes to shit.

First, she starts talking about how she likes “mature, sensitive guys” and you try to be that for her, but you think that you take it just a tad too far, by crying when she says her frog died.

She raised an eyebrow at you and said, “Dude, chill. It’s just a frog. I had it for like, a week, before the year started.” As you sniffled and stopped crying over Legs, she took a bite of celery and said, “You know, you really need to get your emotions in check. You’re starting to act like a girl.”

Of course, you don’t want to be known as ‘that guy’ so you go to the other end of the spectrum; cold and emotionless. Which doesn’t go over too well either, because she starts complaining that you don’t care about anything she’s saying.

You decide that trying to change yourself is too much effort, so you just stick to being yourself, which is a lot better for you both.

Another week goes by where the relationship is good. Then, offhandedly, she says, “You know, I think bi people are just faking it. I mean, you’re either straight or gay, just choose one and stop being greedy attention seekers.”

You’re hurt by this. You didn’t tell her you were bi, but then again, you didn’t think you needed to. She was your girlfriend, she should accept you for who you were, even if she didn’t know that.

“Lance? What’s wrong, you kinda spaced out there.” She chuckles at the space pun.

You turn to look at her, eyebrows drawn in. “Ana. I’m bi.”

Ana’s smile drops. “You’re what now?”

“I’m bi. As in bisexual.”

Ana scoffs. “Nuh uh. You’re dating me. A girl. That means you’re straight.”

You squint at her trying to see if she’s serious or not. “Yeah, I don’t think this is gonna work out. We’re done.” You walk away, feeling hurt and confused and relieved all at once.

Then three weeks later you start dating her twin brother.

So, all in all, an eventful year.

Keith dropping out allowed two things: you get moved up to fighter class, and a new student shows up in your year.

“Who the heck is Pidge Gunderson?” you say to Hunk as you are looking at the assignments board.

From behind you, you hear a voice say, “Right here.”

You all greet each other, and Pidge (who looks really familiar to you, but you can’t pinpoint exactly why) walks off after Iverson walks by. You think you must’ve said something.

You brush it off (sort of) and walk in the opposite direction, ranting about some topic or other to Hunk, who occasionally sighs exasperatedly.

Later on, Pidge approaches you and says, “You know, you look sort of familiar.” This only confirms that your suspicions of knowing him are correct.

“Yeah, you do too,” you say. He nods.

Pidge stares at you for a while and then, as recognition starts to light up his face, he says, “Hey… aren’t you the kid who coughed up blood in the third grade that one time? And you told the teacher you had cancer, but she didn’t believe you?”

Your eyes widen. “Uh. Which time?”

It’s Pidge’s turn to be shocked. “How many times did that happen?!”

You think back, trying to remember. “I don’t know, a couple.” You look at him a little longer. “Hey, you were the one who walked me to the nurse the first time it happened! …You didn’t wear glasses though.”

Pidge’s face flushes. “Yeah, well… you did. What happened to them, huh? Are you a spy?”

You hold up your hands in surrender. “Woah woah, dude. Chill. I’m wearing contacts, it makes things easier. Especially during P.T. I mean seriously, I’ve got enough to worry about in there without my glasses falling off of my face.” Both of you are quiet for a moment.

Then, at the same time, you say, “Well, I gotta go!” Pidge chuckles nervously and you shoot him some awkward finger guns.

As he walks away, you murmur a quiet, “See you.”

You have just turned 17, when something that is almost unthinkable happens.

Relapse.

The signs start to show themselves weeks –maybe even months –beforehand, but you don’t pay any attention. (Maybe it’s because you subconsciously feel that if you ignore it, it’s not there, or maybe you really didn’t think about it. You aren’t sure.)

Right before you are due to go back to the Garrison, you start to cough a lot. But nothing’s painful, so you don’t worry, even if it is persistent, and even if everyone else is worried about it in your stead. (Including Hunk, and even the weird communications officer Pidge who you knew in third grade.) (You know that you knew Pidge by a different name before, but you don’t say anything to him, because he would’ve known you by a different name as well, and you can relate to people you barely remember using the wrong name.)

And of course, you’re finding it a lot harder to breathe, and you use your inhaler a lot more than you think would ordinarily be necessary. You chalk it up to your asthma getting worse. The only thing that doesn’t make your breathing even a little bit labored is lying flat on your back with your binder off.

But you ignore this too.

P.T. is also much harder, and not just in terms of what you do. Things that you could’ve easily done in your first year are difficult now, and the more intense stuff is nearly impossible. But you push on, determined to be good enough, determined to prove that you have earned your spot in the Galaxy Garrison.

It’s not until you cough up blood early one morning that you start to think, ‘Okay, something’s wrong.’

You wake up at around 4 AM, coughing. You sit up to get some cough medicine or your inhaler or something, but from the corner of your eye, you spot a dark stain on your pillow. When you look closer, you see that it’s blood.

Licking your lips, you can taste it. You start to cough again and it feels like your lungs are trying to escape from out of your throat. You rush out of bed and into the hallway, trying to muffle your coughing so that no one wakes up or hears it. You make it to the hall bathroom just as you can no longer stifle your coughs. Blood drips onto your shirt, but you don’t really care as you slide down against the door, coughing as hard as you can.

Once the coughing subsides, you stand up and go to the sink, holding your hand under your chin to catch anything that might drip down. You look in the mirror and are surprised by how much of a mess you look. Bags under your eyes, hair a rat’s nest, glasses askew, and almost your entire chin covered in your own blood. You kind of look like a zombie, you think.

You shake your head slightly and turn on the water, running your hands and then your face underneath it. You swish some around in your mouth to get both the taste and the actual blood out. After all of that is done you comb your fingers through your hair and straighten out your glasses. There, much more presentable. Well, except for the blood on your shirt, but you can deal with that later.

When you get back to the room, Hunk is sitting up on his bed, chewing his lip. He looks up as you enter, eyebrows furrowed.

“Lance, where’d you go? What happened?” He looks so worried, and you’re torn between not wanting to worry him any more than he already is and not wanting to lie to him.

The former wins over and you say, as offhandedly as you can, “Oh, uh, it was just a nose bleed. Don’t worry about it.”

“That was a damn loud nose bleed then.” You wince. So, he didn’t buy it.

“Listen, it’s probably nothing, let’s just-”

“Nothing?! Lance, the last time this happened was because you had lung cancer so don’t stand there and try to tell me that it’s nothing!”

You clench your jaw and say, “Do you know how much it costs to be in the hospital for even one night? I was in there for months. Chemotherapy and surgeries and different medical cocktails, all trying to make sure I didn’t die, and my family is still paying for it! I mean, sure, they got a lot of help, even got some of the charges cleared. But it’s still hanging over us. The only good thing that came of that is that I got to come here, free of charge, on a trauma-based scholarship. So yes, Tsuyoshi. It’s nothing.”

You flop down onto your bed and roll over to face the wall, arms hugged tightly around yourself. You hear Hunk shift as if he wants to get up, then a creak as he sits back down. You ignore the tears in your eyes and try not to sniffle, which isn’t easy. You and Hunk both stay that way until the alarm goes off at 5.

Throughout the day, the tension between you two is thick enough to cut with a knife. By lunchtime, even Pidge, as unobservant as he can be, notices.

“Okay, what’s going on with you two? You’re usually all… buddy buddy, and now you’re barely looking at each other.”

“Well Lance here doesn’t seem to think that lung cancer is serious enough to worry about-”

“And our buddy Hunk doesn’t seem to understand that money is kind of an issue here. Not to mention, what if they kick me out? I’m not physically fit enough if I’ve got lung cancer, so I won’t meet requirements to stay!”

“Oh, so you’d rather kill yourself than, I don’t know, go to the medic or something?”

“Yes!”

Pidge looks between you and Hunk, still looking absolutely bewildered. “Okay, so… what happened?”

You drop your arms. “I’m probably relapsing, because I’ve been coughing a lot lately and getting really winded really easily, and this morning, I started coughing up blood.” Pidge’s eyes widen, but you rush to say, ”But the thing is, my family is still paying off hospital debts from the first time! And besides that, I just…” you sigh heavily, eyes on the table. “I don’t like hospitals. They feel like prisons and they smell like death, and I never want to go to another one as long as I live. And can you blame me? I literally died in a hospital bed.”

Pidge rolls his eyes, thinking that you’re just being dramatic, but you grab his arms from across the table and look him in the face and say, “I am being completely serious right now. I died when I was 10. It was terrifying.” Pidge’s eyes widen and you let him go. As you sit back down fully, you turn to face Hunk. “And Tsu… I’m sorry. But you gotta understand, there’s a lot going on here. I can’t just put my whole life on hold because of some blood.” Hunk’s eyes bulge out and he opens his mouth as if to say something, but you put a finger to his lips.

“I know what you’re gonna say. But I could get through it. And even if I don’t, I think I’ve led a good life. Made some great friends, had a great family. I got into The Galaxy Garrison! There are people in their 80’s who can’t say as much!”

Hunk looks at you like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. From across the table, Pidge sighs. “Alright. But that doesn’t mean we still can’t try to take care of you if you do something especially dumb.”

You grin at him, a lopsided smile, and say, “Yeah, alright.”

Of course, actually dealing with cancer is a lot harder than saying that you’ll deal with it. Especially since you’re trying to keep it a secret from nearly everyone else. Thankfully, Pidge and Hunk cover for you when needed, although, in the simulators, that’s not really an option.

You find yourself opting out of P.T. more and more often, sitting instead with Pidge and one other kid with asthma. Some days are better than others, of course. There are days where you can go almost the whole class and be fine, and there are days when you can’t even walk one lap.

You take to carrying around tissues with you, in your hands and your pockets, even in your locker, coughing into them instead of into your hands or your elbow, just in case there’s something other than phlegm that comes up. (Blood. You’re worried about blood.)

What you dread most about all of this though, is telling your family. But, you know that you have to tell them, so in your daily call home, about a week after the morning incident, you mention it.

It’s about 10 minutes into the conversation with your mother, when you say, “Uh, mama, I have something to tell you.”

You can tell right off the bat that she’s worried, probably from the tone of your voice. “What is it, Lance?”

You take a deep breath and tell her. “I think I’m relapsing.” The string of curses coming from your mother’s mouth that follows is something so explicit and foul that you wouldn’t even put it in a rated R movie. You hope Rosie wasn’t nearby to hear it.

Once all that is over with, you hear her sigh. “Do you want to come home then? We can find a good doctor for you, and you can get better-”

“No!” you exclaim. Then, feeling bad about interrupting your mom, you add, “Sorry. But, I like it here. I love the school, mama. And I don’t want to go back to the hospital, not after the whole… dying. I mean, I’ll come back for the holidays and stuff, but I want to keep going here. Please?”

Your mom sighs heavily. Then she’s silent for a few minutes that feel like hours, until she eventually says, “Alright. This goes against my better judgement, but you say this is what you want, so, I’ll let you stay. And I know Tsuyoshi is there to keep you from over-exerting yourself. But Lance, you’re going to the hospital when it gets to summer-time. No excuses. I love you.”

You smile, and you’re a little teary-eyed, but you manage to keep it out of your voice. “I love you too mama. Bye.”

While telling your mother that you were dying and didn’t want to do anything about it was the most difficult thing about relapse emotionally, the most difficult thing for you physically was… well, everything else.

Maybe not everything else, actually. Just most things. Like walking and talking and exercising and flying the simulators and laughing and sleeping and breathing and eating and binding and not binding and perhaps most of all, existing in general.

Of course, most these are things you need to do to survive, and a good handful of them are things you do in class, so it’s not like you exactly had a choice in whether or not to do them. So you suffer.

It’s not all bad though. You’re doing what you love with people you love. Like. Enjoy? You look over at Hunk on his bed; he has his hair pushed back by his bandanna and he’s sticking his tongue out while he does his homework. You smile fondly, feeling your face grow a little warm.

“Hey Hunk,” you say suddenly, and he snaps his head up to look at you. “How long have we known each other?”

His face scrunches up in concentration and he starts counting on his fingers. “Um… ten years I wanna say. Why?”

You let your head loll back to look up at the ceiling, pillowed by your arms. “No reason. Just wondering, I guess.” You turn your head again to look back at him. He’s got a small smile on his face and he rolls his eyes as he turns back to his work. You watch him for a few minutes, and you feel so warm and comfortable and at home, that you almost say ‘I love you’.

Then, of course, you realize what you nearly said, and you turn away quickly, face flushing. How long had you been feeling like this? Weeks? Months? …Years?! ‘I can’t be in love with my best friend!’ you think. ‘That’s practically forbidden!  And he’s my roommate! That’s just weird Lance.’

Your body interrupts your mind by going into a coughing fit. You sit up to try and make the cough subside at least a little bit, but it doesn’t work. Hunk moves over to you and pulls your arms up. You continue to cough, and in addition to that, you start to have more trouble taking in air to cough, so your body is just convulsing trying to both take in and violently expel air at the same time.

You manage to wheeze out to Hunk, “Binder,” and thankfully he gets the message. He’s done this enough for you that you don’t feel quite so weird about it, and you know that he’s got his eyes shut. You hold your arms up as he pulls off your shirt and binder at the same time as quickly as he can, and then as he hands your shirt back to you to pull on. The coughing has now thankfully subsided, but you still can’t quite breathe. You pick up your jacket from the floor and rummage through the pockets for your spare inhaler. You find it in the third pocket you check and quickly take two puffs from it.

You take a few minutes afterwards to just lay down and breathe. Still looking at the ceiling, you say to Hunk, “Thanks man.”

“No problem.”

Later that night, right after the lights turn out, Hunk whispers over to you, “Hey Lance...?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I sleep in your bed tonight?”

Your eyebrows furrow and you wonder why he needed to ask that. Usually you just slip into each other’s beds. “Yeah, of course.” You scoot over and wait until he wraps himself around you to ask, “Is something wrong, dude?”

Hunk sighs and you feel his arms around you tighten. “Not exactly…”

You roll your eyes. “What is it?”

“I’m worried about you man. With your cancer coming back and you coughing all the time… and after the asthma attack earlier… I’m scared for you, Lance.” You open your mouth but before you can say anything, he continues on, “And I know you don’t want me to be, but you’re my best friend. We’ve known each other for so long, and honestly, I can’t imagine my life without you.”

“Aw. C’mere, big guy.” You wrap your arms around him and bury your face in his chest, and before you know it, you’ve fallen asleep.

The next day, while Hunk is in the bathroom, you find Pidge and sling an arm around his shoulders which he promptly ducks under. You’re used to this though, and go right into pressing matters. “So Pidge. Say, hypothetically, that you realize you’re in love with your best friend. What do you do in this completely hypothetical situation?”

Pidge looks at you from the corner of his eye and the look on his face is horrified and disgusted. “No! Absolutely not! My –my best friend is my brother, that’s disgusting, why would you even-”

“Pidge. Pidge! Calm down, I wasn’t talking about your best friend, I was talking about me and Hunk!”

“Oh. Well why didn’t you just say so? Anyway, I think you should just tell him.”

It’s your turn to look horrified and disgusted. “What? Just, admit that I have actual feelings? Like some sort of human? Hell no.”

Pidge stops walking and turns to look at you. “Look, Lance, he’s your best friend and he’s your roommate. It’d be weirder to not admit your feelings to him. Besides, it’s Hunk, how bad could it go?” He promptly turns and continues heading to breakfast. You’re stopped in the middle of the hall until someone bumps into you and tells you to move.

You’re a bit distracted throughout the rest of the day, not only by Hunk actually being there –absolutely adorable and amazing, as he tends to be –but by the thought of him and by the thought of telling him that you love him.

During the lunch period, you leave to go to the bathroom, and when you come back, Pidge seems to be laughing almost hysterically at something Hunk said. When he sees you, he just laughs harder. “You guys are a bunch of idiots,” he mutters to himself, before excusing himself to do… something. You don’t quite hear what he says.

You sit down across from Hunk, looking over your shoulder to where Pidge disappears to. When you turn back around, you ask, “What was that about?”

Hunk blushes and looks away. “Uh. Nothing.” Suspicious. But you don’t say anything about it.

For the next two weeks or so, you and Hunk dance around each other, going to say something then stopping, blushing awkwardly and avoiding eye contact. Of course, cancer is still a thing that you have, and it still affects your day to day life, and Hunk is still the person who helps you, primarily, so every time he touches you it almost makes things worse, because you get so flustered and warm that you kind of lose your concentration on not dying.

You eventually get to dealing with it, even though it’s almost physically painful to do (but that could also just be your lungs being shitty, now that you think about it).

Roughly a month after your amazing and shocking revelation, you’re in the room, draped over Hunk’s bed while he reads a book. You can’t really read the title from where you are, but it must be good, because you’ve asked Hunk a question three times now and he still hasn’t answered.

You give him a few more minutes to read, and then take in as deep a breath as you can manage and yell, “Hunk!”

He jumps and drops his book, which lands on your head. You suppose you deserve that, considering that you scared him. You stretch your arms to grab the book and flip it to read the title. You realize that you couldn’t read it before because it’s not in a language you understand.

“Dude, what are you reading?” you ask, and Hunk snatches it back from you, finding his page and gently placing a bookmark there.

“I borrowed it from my Titi,” he says. You laugh a little, but don’t say anything about it.

“Anyway,” you start. “What I was trying to ask you –three times already, by the way –but what I was asking was, do you think we should hang out with Pidge more?”

Hunk opens his mouth to reply, then shuts it, thinking. “What do you mean?”

“He doesn’t really seem to have any friends. I’m pretty sure we’re all older than him, too, because he’s like 15, and he’s newer than anyone else in our year. I think he just stays in his room when we don’t have classes, and he doesn’t even have a roommate.”

“Huh. Maybe he just likes being alone?”

You think about this. “Maybe.”

You sit up and Hunk ruffles your hair, making it even messier than it had already been, but you leave it. “We can always ask him tomorrow,” (Pidge replies with a resounding hell no) Hunk suggests, holding out his arms for you.

“Yeah,” you reply, leaning backwards into the hug, pressing your back against Hunk. You feel good.

 You do not feel good.

In fact, you feel terrible.

You’re on your way home for the fall break (which everyone calls Thanksgiving break, but, being from Cuba, you don’t celebrate the holiday, so you just stick with calling it fall break and making people a lot angrier than they really need to be) and your asthma (or cancer? It’s definitely one of those two) is acting up and making it harder to breathe. You can’t find your inhaler, but you aren’t wearing your binder, which is something to be glad about, you think.

On top of difficulty breathing, you are starting to feel a tickle in your throat that signifies the start of a cough, and your ribs hurt, and, not to mention, the rocking of the car is starting to make you car sick, which probably feels a lot worse than it actually is, since you’re unused to it.

You put your forehead on the cool window and breathe in deeply through your mouth, trying to get enough air into your lungs and lessen the nausea. It doesn’t really work, and you still feel like throwing up. You try to remember what Hunk does whenever he’s feeling nauseous (which is usually) but your mind is blank. Your dad is driving and your mom is in the passenger seat, talking about something that you don’t really have the capacity to pay attention to right now. (You knew you had to get your nervous babbling from somewhere, and it looks like the source is your mother.) Rosie is passed out in her car seat behind your mom.

The only person who seems to notice that you aren’t feeling well is Anthony. You know that they’re looking at you but you really don’t want them to worry. Alas, this effort is futile, because they will worry no matter what you do. You realize this eventually and look over at them.

They look at your heaving chest and the pained expression you know must be on your face. Then they lean over the seat and ask, “Mama, dad, do we have any ginger mints? Lance isn’t feeling well.”

Your mother stops talking and scrunches up her face. “Look in the pockets on the seats.” You dig around in the one in front of you while Anthony digs in theirs (really it’s Rosie’s, but it’s closer to Anthony than it is to you). Your hand lights on something that feels like a candy wrapper and you grab it. You are disappointed, however, because it’s just a regular mint. Anthony, on the other hand, had found three and hands them all to you, taking the mint and popping it into their own mouth. You smile weakly and unwrap one of the ginger mints.

After about 30 seconds, you feel a lot better, at least in terms of your nausea. You’re breathing, however, is steadily getting worse, so you start looking around for your inhaler. You usually keep it in one of your jacket’s many pockets, but it’s not there. You think it might be in the trunk. Maybe in your backpack? But that’s also in the trunk. Then you remember that you can reach the trunk through the backseat, if you stick your arm through the hole behind the cup holder. You open it as much as you can with Anthony in the seat and feel around blindly for your backpack. It takes a few minutes, but you eventually find it and bring it to the opening, and lo and behold, there is your inhaler in the side pocket. You quickly grab it and deeply breathe in the medicine.

Once you’re done with it, you stick your inhaler in the right-hand pocket of your jacket. You need to be more careful of where you put it from now on.

Nearly 10 minutes later, you’ve fallen asleep.

You wake up with a jolt 5 minutes from home and you look around. Anthony is playing on their DS and your mother is in the driver’s seat now, while your dad is on the passenger’s side, snoring.

You can’t really see what’s going on around you aside from that, and even though it is nearly dark out, you think you should be able to see at least a little more clearly. Then you realize that your glasses are no longer on your face. You’re looking around your seat when Anthony hands them to you.

“They fell off your face when you fell asleep,” they explain. You thank them and put them on, but they don’t help at all.

“Anthony, I think you gave me your glasses.”

“What? No, mine are on my shirt, see?”

“Tony. I don’t have my glasses on. I can’t see.” They sigh, exasperated, and take the glasses off of their shirt.

“I’m gonna put these on, and if they’re mine, I swear to God, Lance-” they pause as they put the glasses on their face. “Okay, yeah, these are yours.” You smile smugly as you and Anthony exchange glasses and they shove your arm. Your mom says nothing, but sighs deeply.

You open your door and step out as soon as the car is parked in the driveway, eager to stretch your legs. Anthony does the same and as they do, you notice that they seem… taller. You walk around the car to look more closely, and there’s no doubt about it; Anthony is at least a whole inch taller than you.

You feel a weird twinge in your chest. Anthony, your little sibling (only by a few minutes, but still, it counts), is taller than you. You feel… jealous? You don’t want to admit it, but you are. That’s it, that’s the feeling. Because Anthony is the younger between you two, but here they are, an entire inch taller.

You pick up Rosie, who’s awake now and I hugging your neck, and your bad feelings are forgotten when you open the front door, because there’s at least 5 people yelling “Surprise!” at you and now your dad and Anthony as well.

“What’s going on?” your mom asks as she walks in the house.

Dylan (who is holding hands with a guy you don’t recognize and are therefore suspicious of) shrugs. “We wanted to surprise you guys, and we knew Marie was home and that you weren’t expecting us, so we organized this while you picked up Lance.”

You grin. It was good to have your family (and some others) all in one place again. “We also took the liberty of inviting a few other people, and I think you’ll be excited to see them,” Theresa says, holding her young son in her arms.

From the kitchen comes 9 other people. Aunt Emily, Uncle José, and their three kids Natalia, Martine, and Angelina are in the front. Behind them are your Aunts Anita and Raina and their son Benjamin, who looks like he’d rather be alone, but is there anyway, and, behind them all, is Uncle Simon.

Someone puts on music and the (sort of) party gets started. All of the kids under twelve gather in one room to play and be kids, so it’s mostly grown-ups along with you, Anthony, and Natalia, trying to pretend that you understand what anyone else is talking about.

There are a few times where you start coughing pretty heavily, but you manage to pass it off as a cold to the relatives that don’t know (which is most of them).

There are a good amount of announcements, though there’s only really three that you care about; Theresa and her husband Don are having another kid, then Aunt Emily sort of steals their thunder by announcing that she is also pregnant (but she and Theresa are really excited, so you guess it’s okay), and Dylan finally explains who his mysterious guest is.

“This is my boyfriend, his name is Corey, and he doesn’t speak Spanish, so he’s a little intimidated.”

 You squint at Corey and make the ‘I’m watching you’ motion, but Anthony and Natalia grab you by the back of your shirt and drag you off.

Theresa comes up to you after she’s done talking to Aunt Emily and asks, “Lance? Could I ask you something?”

“Sure?” You don’t know what she could possibly need from you, but you’re willing to help, whatever it is.

“I wanted to name the baby Aggie, if it’s a girl, but I know that’s your birth name and all, and I didn’t wanna do it if you weren’t okay with it.”

You’re stunned to silence for a moment, but after a few seconds, you get out, “Yeah. That’s fine with me. Thanks for asking, Theresa.”

Eventually, you get bored (along with Natalia and Anthony) and go into the ‘kid’s’ room to play with them.

Angelina takes a special interest in you after you braid her hair and you get into a very interesting conversation with her and Ella and Rosie, who you hold on your lap.

At one point she asks, “Why don’t you live here?”

“I do. But my school is in Nevada, so I have to stay there.”

“Why do you go to school there and not here?”

You smile. “Because it’s a special school. It’s for exploring space and seeing how far we can take humans.” You lean in close to whisper, like it’s something confidential. “I even get to fly the ships sometimes.”

Angelina’s eyes grow wide. “Wow. Aren’t you scared?”

You smile. “Nah. It’s super safe. Besides, I’m not going to space for a long while.”

This, as it turns out, is a lie.

Because, not even a month later, you are up in space. In a completely different solar system. With two aliens, Hunk, Pidge, Keith, and for some reason, Takashi Shirogane, the pilot from the Kerberos mission. Who goes by Shiro. And how you all got up there? A giant, sentient, robotic, blue lion, that you piloted. (You were just glad you had grabbed your inhaler and glasses, or you’d be pretty screwed up there.)

You’d be convinced that you were having some kind of fever dream, except that no dream could be this realistic. Or painful.

You had awoken two aliens of an otherwise dead race, fought several soldiers of a race of purple aliens (furries), formed Voltron with several other color-coded robotic lions, and were now in bed in a futuristic bunker of a room inside of a giant castle made over 10,000 years ago.

Long story short, you were exhausted. But you still couldn’t fall asleep. It was too quiet in here, too empty. Not to mention that your lungs were literally killing you. You get up and walk down the hall, trying to remember which room Hunk’s is. You knock on the door that you think is correct, but you are very much so wrong.

Keith answers.

His hair is messed up, his arms are crossed tightly around his chest and he’s squinting at you, like he’s expecting light.

“Lance..? What are you-”

“Sorry, wrong room, looking for Hunk, you can go back to sleep now, bye!”

You turn to walk away, but Keith calls from behind you, “Wait.” You turn, chewing your lip. “Uh. Can’t sleep?” Your eyebrows furrow.

“Uh, no. That’s why I was looking for Hunk’s room.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, g’night.”

It’s not until after the door closes again, that you mumble, “Goodnight…” You stand there, facing Keith’s room, for a few minutes longer, before you remember your original purpose and start trying to find Hunk’s room again.

You find it when Hunk steps out of it. It’s right across the hall from Keith’s room. “Oh! Lance. You’re… out here already. I was just about to get you.”

You smile. “Couldn’t sleep, huh?” Hunk nods and your smile grows wider. “Yeah, me neither. It’s too quiet.”

You follow Hunk back into his room and wrap yourself around him, falling asleep within minutes.

The next day, you feel awful. Like a sack of flour that had been run over multiple times and then given the lungs of a 50-year-old smoker. You lay in bed (Hunk’s bed, because you didn’t want to get up) and groan. Hunk does his best to comfort you, but you don’t think he can do anything about lung cancer or asthma.

You cough into his pillow and then feel bad about it, namely because you got blood on it.

“Sorry,” you say, voice croaky.

Hunk pats you on the head and tells you, “S’okay buddy. I’m sure the castle has something we can use to clean it up.”

“I can just take the pillow and you can have mine. This probably won’t be the last time this happens.”

When you finally do leave the room, it’s to train. You insist on not only doing the training, but wearing your binder as you do, and Hunk, the dear, tries to get you out of training, but you quiet him.

“It’s alright, Tsu. Zarkon’s not gonna wait for a little cough, why should I?”

He opens his mouth, but you give him a pleading look and he shuts it. That doesn’t stop him from glancing worriedly at you every time you cough or have to stop to breathe.

You keep going and pushing yourself up until the walk back to your room. Hunk is with you, hovering but not touching, until you fall into the wall and start coughing again.

“Lance, maybe we should tell somebody-”

“No, I’m fine, I’m fine,” you say through your coughs but you are not fine and you and Hunk both know it.

Shiro walks around the corner and you struggle to stand up straight, but he sees you and makes a beeline to where you are.

“Lance, are you okay?” He lifts you up with an arm around you, Hunk on your other side.

“I’m fine,” you lie, for what feels like the millionth time. “It’s just a cough, and I really wish people would stop worrying about it.”

Shiro doesn’t look convinced but he and Hunk practically carry you back to your room, even though you are perfectly capable of walking on your own, thank you very much.

Training the next day is cancelled, and while you suspect that Shiro had something to do with it, you feel grateful.

Almost three weeks later, you meet the Arusians, who are ridiculously adorable (and Keith is suspicious of them at first, for some reason). You want to knit the first one, Klaizap, a sweater, but 1: you don’t have yarn or knitting needles, and 2: if you were to knit one for Klaizap, you’d have to knit one for the rest of the Arusians, and that was just too many sweaters for you.

A lot of things happen after that; you fight a giant space ape named Myzax, almost flatten the Arusians’ village, throw a thank-you party for them, get infiltrated, and save Coran from the giant exploding crystal (after he found you not crying over being homesick). (Okay, maybe you were crying, just a little bit).

You really don’t remember too much after that.

But you do remember that you are 17 the next time you die.

It wasn’t like the night in the hospital. It wasn’t sudden or all at once, and it wasn’t quiet and painless.

In fact, it was extremely painful.

You remember the pain coming in waves and seeing bits and pieces of scenes you still can’t quite understand. Your vision fading in and out, coughing so hard in your bouts of semi-consciousness (and possibly in your unconsciousness too) and after all of that… nothing.

You couldn’t feel anything at all. It wasn’t like you were passed out or asleep or anything. You were aware of everything around you, it was just that nothing was what happened to be all around you. You know that it was longer this time, because at some point you see a light fading in and out, but you still don’t feel anything, so you know it’s not you going in and out of consciousness.

You think you hear your great-grandmother’s voice, but you could have just been delirious. Of course, you think it’s possible, because, after all, you were dead.

And then, suddenly, you weren’t. You stopped feeling the nothingness and started to not feel anything. The light slipped away and you were back to being simply unconscious, rather than full-on dead. And before you know it, you are back to being aware of every ungodly thing around you (including the rest of the team’s clock party?), and you step out of the healing pod, still sore, but feeling better than you could’ve hoped, all things considering.

In fact, you feel a lot better than you would have thought. You take in a deep breath and… it’s easy. It doesn’t hurt. You take in another deep breath, as deep as you can, and it’s not until you’ve taken in more air than you can stand that it starts to hurt, just a little.

You cough, but it’s just a cough, and a cough that you forced no less. You smile a little and let yourself be led back to your room so you can get dressed.

Keith seems to be upset about a so-called ‘bonding moment’ (that you do vaguely remember. Just a little. Mostly the part where he was holding you and you would’ve felt really comfortable if not for the fact that you were dying and were in a lot of pain) but you deny its existence.

And apparently Pidge is a girl –which you may have overreacted to –and the castle is a ship.

After you get some food goo in you, you pull Hunk and Pidge to the side, and say, in the lowest voice you can while still being audible to the two, “Guys, I think the healing pod might’ve healed me.”

Pidge gets it first, but behind you, Keith says, “Uh, yeah. Isn’t that what it was supposed to do?” You turn and he’s several feet behind you, but he doesn’t seem to think that his eavesdropping is strange.

“That’s not what I meant. Besides, this was supposed to be a private conversation, so take your snooping self elsewhere.”

Keith’s eyebrows draw together. “Well it’s not my fault that you were speaking loud enough to be heard across the room!” He storms off before you can say anything else, but you just roll your eyes and turn back to Hunk and Pidge.

“So you don’t have cancer anymore?” Pidge asks.

“That’s what I’m thinking. It doesn’t hurt to breathe, I don’t feel like I need to cough or anything; I feel better than I did on my good days. Hell, I feel better than I did after chemo.”

The door slides open as you say the last sentence, and Shiro walks in.

You sigh, getting annoyed with the interruptions, and walk past Shiro and go to get ready for launch, and then to the main control room where the others are. You sit down in the blue seat (because, duh, blue paladin).

When Shiro walks in, he shoots you a look, but you ignore it, choosing instead to look over at Hunk. When he meets your gaze you grin and he returns the smile with one of his own and a thumbs up. You hear someone clearing their throat and look over to see Pidge looking pointedly form you to Hunk. You stick your tongue out at her and then are almost jolted out of your seat as the castle lifts off.

It’s not until after the whole launch thing that Allura tells you all that you didn’t need to strap in or even be sitting down for it. There’s a chorus of groaning and complaining, and she smiles smugly.

You drag Hunk and Pidge back to your room to continue the conversation.

“What exactly makes you think you don’t have cancer anymore?” Hunk asks. His eyebrows are drawn in and his bottom lip is between his teeth.

You shrug, needing to do something with your arms. “Mostly that it doesn’t really hurt anymore. I’m not sure if I’ve still got asthma though, because that was a side effect of cancer but it might not be something the healing pod would see as needing healing.”

“I’m sure we could do a health screening. There’s gotta be something in the castle that we can use.”

You look at Pidge. “Like what?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. We could ask the Princess.” You cringe a little at the thought. “…Or we could ask Coran?” You nod, much more open to that idea.

Which is how you end up in the basement of the castle, in the same room as Sendak’s sort-of corpse with Hunk, Pidge, and Coran, on your way to save the Balmerans.

As Coran is hooking you up to some weird Altean machine, he tells you, “Hold on, this should only take a few ticks.”

“What is a tick, anyway?” you ask, and Hunk and Pidge groan. You look over to them. “What?”

“We’ve already been through this, and I don’t wanna have another ‘clock party’ today,” Pidge tells you. You’re left feeling more confused than ever, but you don’t ask any more questions.

“You said you were looking for what again?” Coran asks.

You look back over to him as he places a sort of helmet on your head. “Cancer. And asthma, I guess.” Coran looks confused, so you explain, “Cancer is a disease humans get where bad cells get confused for good ones, and then the bad cells start to take over and kill us. Asthma is mostly just being bad at breathing.”

Coran mumbles to himself, but you don’t pay enough attention to catch any of the words.

“Okay!” he exclaims, straightening up and going to the control panel. “This may hurt a little, so be ready-”

“Wait, what?”

“3, 2, 1, go!”

It doesn’t hurt at all, which you are grateful for, but it does tickle a little. Then it tickles a lot. After what feels like forever, the machine stops humming and Coran unhooks you. He leads you to the control screen and Hunk and Pidge peer at it from over your shoulders.

Coran points to a few places in the Altean text, explaining what it’s saying and what that means. “There doesn’t seem to be anything fatal going on, not even this cancer-whosit, and that’s a good sign. Your lungs, however, are a bit messed up, which I’m going to assume means that you are, er… what was it again?”

“Bad at breathing.”

“Yes! That! That’s all that looks to be wrong, though. You’re as healthy as a three-armed selstoop!”

“Why three arms?” Pidge asks, as you all make your way back up to the main levels of the castle.

“Oh, the three-armed ones are much healthier than the four-armed selstoops, though still not as healthy as, say, a nartok, which are said to be some of the healthiest creatures in the universe!”

Pidge and Coran walk ahead, having a conversation about different kinds of space creatures that you’ve never heard of before. You and Hunk hang back a little and chat.

“Do you like Shay?” you ask quietly. You can’t deny that you feel a little jealous, but you try to keep it down, because Hunk is your best friend. You wanna be happy for him.

He blushes and stutters out, “Wha- No!”

You smile. “I mean in general! Romantic, platonic, whatever.”

“Oh.” Hunk looks a little sheepish and rubs the back of his neck. “I mean, yeah. She rocks.” You don’t get it at first, but Hunk goes on to explain, “You know, like a rock… she’s basically a rock person.”

“Ohh, okay, I get it. That’s awful. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Hunk chuckles a bit before continuing. “Seriously, though, she’s really cool. You’d love her.”

The closer you get to the control room, the more nervous he seems to be about the whole ‘rescue mission’ thing. You try to reassure him that it’ll be fine, but he’s still anxious.

As it turns out, he doesn’t need to be –not yet at least. Because the castle alarms start blaring. You think it’s an attack, but it turns out to be a distress beacon from a nearby moon.

Hunk isn’t happy about this and insists on coming back later to help whoever it is, but Allura tells him that, as Paladins, you must help them.

You think it’s all pretty cool, like cops, but Shiro ruins the fun a little when he stifles your siren noise.

You touch down as gently as you can, considering that you’re in a giant castle-ship. When you exit, you see two aliens and a robot (that Pidge loves, of course). The yellow one is a very (and you mean very) pretty girl named Nyma. ‘Perfect. Now I can forget about my stupid crush on Hunk and my weird fluttery feelings about my self-proclaimed rival. I need to talk to Pidge.’

You make your way over to Nyma and start flirting while Hunk does his engineering thing and Keith chats it up with Rolo. (You are not jealous, you do not feel any sort of attraction to anyone on your team, and you are perfectly content hanging out with Nyma.)

Of course, your plan to forget your feelings in the form of a beautiful alien ends very badly, as it turns out she and Rolo were lion thieves. (You find yourself secretly glad that it didn’t work out, but only after you get Blue back.)

“I am never flirting with another mysterious alien again!” you proclaim. “I can’t risk my heart being broken by another evil temptress! That scheming, conniving, little-”

“Got some strong feelings there, Lance?” Keith asks from what you have dubbed his leaning-wall.

“Yes, I do! She tried to steal my lion!”

“I’d say she successfully stole your lion,” Pidge says.

“Yeah,” Hunk chimes in. “And we successfully got it back! But you know, none of it would have ever happened in the first place if you guys had just listened to me-”

“We get it!” you all say at the same time. Hunk holds up his hands in surrender, but you know that he is still very much aware of his rightness.

 After you leave the Balmera, you find Pidge tucked into a corner, computer on her knees. You plop down next to her and she tenses up, but when you don’t do anything else, she relaxes.

“What do you want, Lance?” she asks, squinting at you suspiciously.

“What? Can’t I just talk to my good buddy Pidge?”

“Why can’t you ‘just talk to your good buddy’ Hunk?”

“He’s a little mopey about Shay not coming with us, and he wanted some time alone.”

Pidge looks taken aback. “Huh. That’s… mature of you. But seriously, what do you want?”

“I told you, nothing! I-” she gives you a look and you stop talking and sigh heavily. “Okay, fine, I want something.”

“I know. Just tell me what it is. I can probably get it for you.”

“No, it’s not like that,” you start. Pidge raises her eyebrows in confusion. “I wanted to apologize. For the other day, when you told the team you were a girl, and I overreacted. I think it was because I was excited about having another trans guy as a friend, but that’s no excuse, and I’m sorry.”

Pidge blinks at you, wide-eyed. “Well, it uh, wouldn’t be a trans guy thing going on, if I were, you know, a guy. Because, you know, I’d be cis. If I were a guy. Which is probably why it was so easy for me to infiltrate the Garrison, because no one suspected I was a girl, which, honestly, really sucked, and dysphoria was awful, but I needed to know what happened to Matt, so-”

“Wait, you’re trans too?”

“Uh. Yeah? And also, for the record, I’m not always a girl either. Usually, yes, but sometimes I don’t feel like anything at all, but it’s not exactly something that I go about broadcasting or anything, because a good percentage of people don’t even accept me as a girl in the first place, so how would they understand me being a demi-girl?”

You nod along to Pidge’s nervous string of words for a while, before you take pity on her and clear your throat. She stops, mid-sentence, and looks up at you. “I appreciate you telling me all this,” you say, “But it’s a little incoherent and it feels like you’re just talking in circles. Mind summing it up for me?”

Pidge looks a little embarrassed, but she clears her throat and says, “I’m a trans demi-girl who pretended to be a boy at the Garrison, and usually I use she/her pronouns but sometimes I use they/them, and that’s it.”

“Thank you. What are you using right now?”

“She/her.”

“Want me to ask you every day?”

Pidge smiles. “That’d be awesome.”

You stand up and pat her head. As you turn to walk away, she calls from behind you, “Lance?” You turn your head so she can see that you’re listening. “Thanks. It’s been a while since I’ve told anybody all this.”

“No problem Pidge-Podge.”

“Don’t call me that.”

 You’ve been in space for nearly 8 months now, and it’s your 18th birthday (approximately). There isn’t much of a celebration, because there is still a huge, intergalactic war going on, and all there is to eat is food goo, but the others put up little decorations, and Coran and Allura found the Altean equivalent of CDs.

And of course, you’re crying.

You walked into the control room (by Hunk’s persuasion) to see that they’d all decorated.

“I know it’s not that great, but I wanted to do something, and I figured that we could all use a little break, y’know?” Hunk rubs at the back of his neck and gestures around with his other hand. Everyone else is smiling at you, probably waiting for you to react. Even Keith is looking at you, smiling softly.

You start to think about your family, how they probably think that you’re dead, and how Anthony is celebrating their birthday alone, if they’re celebrating at all. You feel your eyes start to well up with tears, and you say, voice choking, “I –I have to go.” You turn and nearly run out of the room, down the giant corridors and make your way to Blue’s hangar.

You sit against her leg, body curled in on itself, and cry. After 20 minutes or so, you hear footsteps running towards you, and you sit up and scrub your face, trying to make it look like you weren’t crying. You are unsuccessful, though, because Hunk and Keith run in right after you bring your hands to your face.

Hunk cautiously walks over to you, while Keith hangs back, brows drawn together in a worried expression. Hunk kneels down next to you and puts a warm, gentle hand on your back.

“Hey buddy, what’s wrong?”

You swipe a hand under one of your eyes. “I miss my family. And thinking about Anthony… they’ve gotta be so lonely. We did everything together, Hunk, and they’re alone now. And it’s our birthday too.”

Keith has taken a few steps closer, so he’s only a few feet from you now. “Who’s Anthony?”

You sniffle before answering. “They’re my twin. They were my best friend as a kid, and then I got into the stupid Garrison and disappeared up here, into space, even after I said I wouldn’t. But how the hell could I have known that this would happen?” You lean your head back until it hits Blue’s paw with a thunk.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying not to cry, but you know it won’t work, and sure enough, the tears still manage to escape from under your eyelids. Hunk pulls you to his chest and you wrap your arms around him, getting snot and tears on his shirt. You look over to Keith and hold out a hand. “Come here, I need comforting, you jerk.”

Keith sort of awkwardly tacks on to the hug, clearly not sure what to do. You turn around as best you can and grab his arms, putting them around you and Hunk. “There. Now this is a group hug.”

Keith’s face is almost as red as his jacket, and you can’t help but think it’s cute. You aren’t sure how to feel about this, so you laugh and cry at the same time, and your face is an absolute mess. You can’t see it, but you know that it is.

Eventually, you, Hunk, and Keith make your way back to the makeshift party. There’s nothing to eat except for food goo, and the Altean music is a little weird, but you’re so happy that everyone is here, together, that you really don’t care. Of course, your family is still in the back of your mind, but you can’t do anything about it right now, so you laugh and party with your teammates, who are like another family, however weird and dysfunctional it may be.

The next day, after training, you drag Pidge to the side (making sure to stay especially far from Keith, with his galra hearing). They glare at you, knowing that something must be up, and if you can’t talk to Hunk about it, the it must be about Hunk.

“Pidge, I have a problem.”

“You’ve got a lot of problems, Lance.”

“Oh yeah, very funny.” They’re right, of course, but you don’t say that. “I mean a specific problem.”

Pidge crosses their arms and looks at you. “Okay. What is it?”

“Do you remember a few months ago, back at the Garrison, and I told you that I liked Hunk?”

“Yes, and I still think you should tell him.”

“I think I like Keith, too.”

Pidge raises their eyebrows. “Well then. You are in a pickle, aren’t you?” You nod. “What are you gonna do about it?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I know polyamory is a thing, but I don’t know if either of them would be cool with that or if either would like me the same way. I mean, me and Keith just stopped being ‘rivals,’ how is he gonna feel if I tell him this?”

Pidge looks at you for a moment, eyes squinting. “You sure do come to me with relationship problems a lot, considering that I have no dating experience.”

“Who else would I go to? Shiro?”

“What about me?”

You and Pidge both nearly jump out of your skins. You look at Shiro and say, with a hand over your hammering heart, “Jesus! You know, for such a big dude, you are quiet.”

“Uh huh. And, what were you saying?” Shiro looks down at you both.

“Eh heh. Well-”

“He’s having relationship trouble so he came to me for help.”

“Relationship trouble? With who?”

“Just- uh. People.” You look at your wrist where there is very clearly not a watch and say, “Oh, well, look at the time, I gotta jet, see you!” You take off down the corridor and make it to your room within a few minutes. Except that you didn’t count the doors, and it’s not your room, but Keith’s.

“Oh quiznak.”

Keith is looking up at you from taking off his shoes. “Uh. Can I help you?”

“No. I miscounted the doors. My bad.” You go to leave, but Keith calls after you.

“Lance?” You turn at your name and raise an eyebrow in question. “Do you wanna… talk?”

“About what?”

Keith looks unsure of himself, but he presses on. “I don’t know. Your family? Earth? Anything, I guess. I mean, you were crying yesterday. And besides that, we never really talk just to talk.”

You think about this. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I think the most we talked was at the Garrison test.”

Keith thinks about this. “I don’t think I remember you. I know I talked to Shiro, but he’s my brother, and he worked there, so it hardly counts.”

“I uh, I was going by a different name. I think it was Martin, or José? I don’t really remember.”

He shakes his head slowly. “I was a lot more feminine. You said something about how you tried not to assume, and you were sorry you used the wrong pronouns? And then you said that you were trans, too.”

Keith’s eyes widen and he says, “I didn’t know anyone on the ship knew. Other than Shiro.”

“Yeah dude. Hunk knows too, he was there.”

“Really?” You nod. “Oh.”

“No one else knows though. We didn’t tell anybody.”

He nods. Then he frowns, looking like he was trying to remember, but still couldn’t. You sigh and dig through your pockets, trying to find your glasses. When you do, you put them on and hold out your arms in a sort of ‘look at me’ kind of motion.

“Oh! I remember you now. You had an asthma attack and Iverson was being a dick about it.”

You take off your glasses, already regretting wearing them with your contacts still in. “Yeah. Wasn’t the last time, either.”

“Yeah. He really didn’t like you.”

You shove your hands into the pockets of your jacket as deep as they will go and mutter, “No need to remind me.”

“Sorry.” You look up, shocked for a second by how he understood that, then remembering that he basically had supersonic hearing.

He scoots over so that there’s room for you to sit down, and you accept the silent offer.

“So… you got any ideas for conversation or is it all on me here?” you ask, leaning back against the wall.

“…Tell me about your family?”

You smile gently at this, a little sad. “I’ve got a lot, so you may want to be more specific.”

Keith screws up his face in concentration, then asks slowly, “How about… just your immediate family? Parents, siblings. That shouldn’t be too much, right?”

“Nah. It’s only eight people.”

“Eight?! I’ve never lived with that many people for more than a month.”

You chuckle a little. “Not everyone can handle it.”

You spend hours talking about your family, and amazingly, Keith listens. He asks questions and you answer them and he seems genuinely interested in what you have to say.

“I wish I could see them again,” you say. Keith hesitantly puts a hand on your back, almost like he’s trying to comfort you, but doesn’t quite know how. “I mean, I know that we’re supposed to be saviors of the universe, I get that, but… I miss home. It’d be nice just to visit, tell my family that I’m alive and not to worry, and then go on fighting the Galra.”

“All my family is up here,” Keith says quietly. You almost can’t hear him, he’s so quiet.

“What do you mean?”

“My mom is either dead or Galra –or both. I have no idea where my dad went, but after he left I was put into the foster care system. When I was 11, I met Shiro. He was a mentor to me, like a big brother that I’d never had. He encouraged me to go to the Garrison, but then he disappeared and… it all went downhill from there.

“You know the story; discipline issue, dropped out, lived alone in the desert for a year. I spent most of that time trying to figure out how to get Shiro back, but I couldn’t without some Garrison-grade equipment, because, obviously, he was in space.”

“Obviously.”

Keith squints at you. “Are you… making fun of me?”

“What? No! Not this time. I mean, he went into space on a mission, and it took them six months to declare that he was dead. So of course he was in space, where else would he be? Unless it’s one of those Bucky Barnes type situations. You think he’s dead but he’s alive and has no memory.”

Keith nods along like he understands. “Exactly. Though, I do have a question.”

“Yeah?”

“Who the hell is Bucky?”

You struggle to contain your laughter for a moment, then decide that it’s not worth it, and you double over laughing.

Keith pouts and crosses his arms and his cheeks take on a light blush. You hold out one hand and wheeze out, “Wait, wait. Hold on a sec.”

Keith is still pouting, but his arms relax. You stop laughing and sit up straight again.

“Okay. I’m good. Explanation time; in one of the old Captain America movies, Bucky, who has been brainwashed, asks Steve Rogers that same question, and people make jokes about it all the time.”

“Oh. Okay.”

You don’t have the chance to say anything else, because the alarm goes off and Allura comes on over the intercom. “Paladins! We are receiving a distress beacon from a nearby planet! Suit up and meet me in the control room.”

You and Keith look at each other for a second, the alarm still going off. “I’ll… let you change.”

You rush out and walk next door to your own room. Your face feels hot and you try not to think about Keith anymore.

Of course, as soon as you walk out of your room, he’s right there, and you end up jogging to the control room together.

By the time you get there, you’re a bit out of breath. You’re tempted to lay down, but 1: you need to be at attention and 2: you know from experience that it would be worse for your lungs. You put your arms up above your head, folding them over each other and holding your elbows.

“We seem to be circling a rather small planet here,” Allura explains, pulling the view of said planet up on the hologram. “It is a peaceful planet, uninhabited by Galra, but you must still be careful. We don’t know what could be causing the need for a distress beacon.”

All of you nod together and go out to your lions. You fly down to the planet easily, and you see a small group of people –no larger than the team in fact –gathered together behind a rock.

“Uh, guys?” Comes Hunk’s voice. “Do you see what’s wrong? Because… I don’t.”

You squint, trying to see anything. “Huh. Me neith –NEVERMIND I SEE IT!” You don’t know what it is, exactly, but it’s huge. And there are four of them.

One of them turns it’s ugly maybe-face towards the lions and lifts up a tentacle to make a swipe at the five of you. You just barely make it out of the way in time, but Hunk isn’t so lucky. The end of the tentacle slams into Yellow before Hunk can materialize the special armor. He screams as he’s pulled down to the ground, and then stops halfway there.

Your heart starts hammering. “Hunk? Hunk?!” You start to direct Blue to where Yellow is, but Shiro calls out to you.

“Lance! I know you’re worried, but we don’t know what this thing is or how to fight it. Coran, any advice?”

Your heart is still pounding as you stare at the Yellow Lion, willing it to get up and start moving again. “Yes!” Coran exclaims. “Those are three-armed selstoops! They’re quite an endangered species though, so you’ll have to put them down without killing them.”

You break out of your trance for a moment. “Wait –that’s a three-armed selstoop? That’s what I’m ‘as healthy as?’ Coran, what the fuck.”

“Is that really what you’re focusing on right now, Lance?” It’s Keith.

“I can focus on many things at once Keith!”

Shiro speaks up before you and Keith can start bickering. “Coran –how do we get them away from these people?”

“Well… hm. Any weapons you use with the lions will be too lethal for the selstoops, so you’ll have to go it on foot. Perhaps a net of sorts?”

“Why can’t we just use Blue’s freeze ray or something?” you ask. You’re looking at Hunk again.

“No, they’re very susceptible to the cold. They’ll be dead before it even reaches them.”

You let out a frustrated groan. “Then what do we do? For all we know, Hunk is dead and we’re just sitting here like a bunch of idiots!” You feel yourself start to cry. “If no one comes up with anything soon, then I’m going down to get him because I am not going to just sit here and do nothing.”

There’s a stunned silence. Coran is the first to speak. “I can’t think of anything that won’t kill them.”

“What if we create a diversion?” Pidge suggests. “We just make ourselves look more interesting than those people and draw them away. I can park the green lion over by wherever we go, since it has the invisibility cloak, and then we can fly away once those things are far enough away.”

“Oh please, that’s… not a bad idea actually. Way to go, Number 5!”

“What about Hunk?” you ask.

You hear a groan coming from the comms link. “What about me?”

“Hunk! You’re alive!”

Another groan. “Yeah. So what are we doing about those things?”

“Diversion. Land behind those rocks and get in my lion.”

“Okay.”

Once all of you are in the green lion’s cockpit, you don’t let go of Hunk.

“Lance, while I’m happy that you’re happy to see me, I’m fine, and this is getting a little weird.”

“I’m just so glad that you’re alive.”

“Alright, I get that, but-”

“Hunk, buddy, I did not die just for you to go and get yourself killed.”

Keith and Shiro look at you and you hear Pidge let out a surprised snort from her seat, but you ignore them.

“Well, yeah, but you didn’t really die for anything else either.”

“Exactly! Well, there was the time with Sendak, and that time I died to keep the castle safe.”

“Wait –you died?”

“Yeah. I’d be dead right now if it weren’t for the healing pod. Didn’t I tell you?”

“No! I knew about the first time, but not this!”

You feel a hand on your shoulder and you turn to see Keith, who looks extremely worried, and Shiro behind him, who looks mostly confused. “Lance. What the fuck?”

“Oh. Yeah. I died.”

“How many times?” Shiro asks.

“Only twice so far.”

Keith splutters. “O –only twice?! Lance, you realize that that’s two more times than most living people, right?”

Pidge interrupts. “We’re here. Get out.”

You oblige happily, leading the way out.

“Okay,” Pidge starts. She squints in the direction of the selstoops. “Lance, Hunk, shoot your bayards in the general vicinity of those things, but don’t hit them. We just need to get their attention. I’ll go over to those rocks and wave my bayard around. Keith, you go in the other direction, and see if you can get one of the suns to glint off of your sword. Shiro, just… wave your glowy arm around. Once they get to us, run as far as you can in that direction.” She points in the opposite direction of where the selstoops currently are. “Does everyone understand their roles?”

There comes a chorus of muttered, ‘Yes, ma’am’s from the rest of you. You and Hunk ready your bayards while Pidge and Keith run in opposite directions and Shiro lights up his hand. You aim your bayard at a rock right next to one of the selstoops, while Hunk points his much further away. It’s a weapon meant more for cover fire, not precision.

You say quietly, “3…2…1!” You and Hunk shoot at the same time and Pidge starts waving around her grappling hook. Shiro is using his jetpack to raise himself a few feet in the air so his hand is more visible, and Keith is squinting back and forth between the sky and his bayard.

You look like a bunch of idiots.

But looking like a bunch of idiots seems to be working. The group of selstoops turns to face you, but they don’t move yet. You shoot your bayard again, right in between two of them, and they scuttle away from it, then start to scuttle toward you. In fact, they seem to be scuttling a lot faster than you originally thought possible.

“Uh, Pidge,” you start. “I think we should start running soon. Maybe now?”

“Yeah. Good idea.” Pidge’s voice sounds a little shaky, and that doesn’t bode well with you at all. You turn tail and start running, grabbing Hunk with one hand and Keith with the other as you pass each of them.

After running for what you estimate to be about 30 feet, you’re lungs start straining. Your helmet is open since the planet’s atmosphere has oxygen in it, but this also means that the dust from the air is getting in your lungs, and this combined with the fact that you are running as fast as you can means that you’ve got about 10 minutes until you pass out. 20 if you stop running right now, but that would also increase your chances of dying by a very considerable margin.

Pidge also seems to be struggling, and she’s slowing down. You groan internally and speed up to meet her halfway.

Once you reach her, you grab her elbow. “We gotta… keep going,” you pant out. “Almost… far…enough.”

She nods and picks up her pace. You fall back so that you’re next to Hunk. “Pidge and me… might… not make it… much longer.” You point to a group of rocks up ahead. “Hide?”

“Okay,” he says to you, quietly. Then, louder, so as to be heard over the comms, “We should hide behind those rocks up there. Let them pass us then go back.”

“Alright,” Shiro says. “We should be going past them soon. On my count, dive to the side. 3…2… Go!” You flop down on your side and roll the rest of the way to get completely behind the rocks. Pidges lays down heavily next to you, chest heaving.

You pull your inhaler out of one of the armor’s side pouches and hold it to your lips, taking in two deep puffs. You know you’re almost out, but you can’t worry about that now.

“What’s wrong with Pidge?” It’s Keith.

“Asthma,” you explain.

“Inhaler… in Green,” Pidge wheezes out from her spot on the ground.

“Lance,” Hunk says. “Can’t you just… give her your inhaler?”

You shake your head. “She’s allergic to one of the medicines in mine. And even if she wasn’t, sharing inhalers is generally bad. We need to get her to Green.”

“Or get Green to come to her,” Keith suggests.

“Hey, now there’s an idea. Pidge, do you think you can get Green to get over here?” You lean back so you can see her face, which is scrunched up in pain.

“Unngh,” comes Pidge’s reply.

“…Oookay. Any other ideas?”

Before anyone can say anything, you all hear a roar and look to the source, which is none other than the Green Lion herself, flying towards her paladin, likely sensing the danger.

You let out a startled laugh. “Alright!”

Green lands several feet away. You and Hunk move to grab Pidge, but Shiro swoops in, carrying her easily. As soon as you reach the cockpit you start searching for Pidge’s inhaler, and luckily, it’s only in the third compartment that you check.

Shiro has set Pidge down in her seat by now, so you stride over to her and hold her inhaler up to her face. She grabs it weakly and breathes it in, then lets her arm fall to the side once she’s done. It looks like she’s about to fall asleep, but you know this is a bad idea, so you shake her and yell, “Pidge, wake up!” She jolts upright, eyes wide for a second before they become heavy-lidded again.

“What, what is it?” she asks weakly.

“Pidge, we need you to fly us out of here. Invisibly would be preferred,” Shiro says calmly.

“Right. Okay.” Pidge shakes her head from side to side and rubs her fists into her eyes. “Alright, I’m good. Let’s go.” She takes off with a rocky ascent, but once actually in the air, the ride is smooth. You assume she’s got the invisibility shield on because the selstoops don’t follow.

The five of you all let out a sigh of relief at the same time.

“Pidge, why don’t you go back to the castle? You can drop us off here and then rest up,” Shiro suggests gently.

“But –what about –the mission!”

You put a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll be fine. But you need a break.”

Pidge looks around but sees that she has no one willing to let her run herself into the ground, so she deflates and says, “Fine. But I’m not landing, so you guys are gonna have to jump out.”

She stays true to her word and when you land on the ground, your knees take most of the weight, even with rolling. It hurts a lot.

The rest of the mission goes smoothly, and you make it back to the castle in less than an hour. As soon as you leave Blue’s hangar, you are pulled to the side by Pidge.

“Lance, c’mere.”

You look at her, eyebrows furrowed. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”

She waves off your question and says, “I’m fine. I can breathe now. Anyway, how much does your inhaler have left?”

“What?”

“Just –how much does it have left?”

You shrug. “I don’t know. Not much. Why?”

“I think, if I use the medicines in our inhalers, I can sort of reverse engineer a new medicine. Or maybe duplicate it, if there’s something like that on the ship. And I wanna try to add auto-inhalers into our suits, with a sensor for when we’re having asthma attacks so if we can’t get to our inhalers, then we can still have the medication we need. It could be really useful in battle, too.”

“Pidge. I know you know this already, but you’re a genius.”

“I know.”

 A few weeks later, you get a lovely surprise. And you mean that sarcastically.

It’s your period. You don’t realize that it’s coming because it’s been so long since it happened that you forgot what it felt like. At least, until it was actually happening.

Of course, you were completely unprepared for it. And it’s not like anybody else would have anything. Except maybe Keith. Or Allura? Do Alteans get periods? It couldn’t hurt to ask. But the thing is, you don’t want to. You don’t want to explain to another person that you’re trans.

You approach Pidge first. Of course, you have to find them before you can talk to them, which is always difficult because they could be in the vents like some sort of gremlin, or in Green’s hangar, or in the lab, or in any number of other crazy places.

To help you find Pidge, you get Hunk to search too. They end up being in the vents.

They pop their head out from one of the grates in the ceiling with a, “Heard you were looking for me?” You do not squeal when this happens.

“Uh. Yeah. Do you have painkillers? I’m having… issues.”

Pidge looks at you questioningly. “What kind of issues?”

“…Painful ones.”

They squint at you suspiciously for a few seconds. “Alright. I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

“I’ll try,” you call after them as they disappear into the vents. They reappear more or less than 10 minutes later with a small bottle.

“Here. Don’t take more than one at a time or it’ll be like a sedative.” They drop it down to you and you just barely catch it.

“Thanks. Hey, while you’re here… you wouldn’t happen to know where a guy could get some pads, would you?”

Pidge frowns, muttering “Pads,” to themself over and over. “I would not. Maybe Allura has some, go ask her.”

They duck back into the vent, pulling the cover on behind them, and you sigh heavily into the empty corridor. You’d rather not go to Allura unless it was absolutely necessary, and the only other person you can think of is Keith. You sigh again and turn around to head back to the rooms. You knock on Keith’s door, not even sure if he’s in there right now.

You wait for five minutes after the initial knock to knock again. While you wait, you bounce your leg, getting more and more impatient with each passing second. You know your underwear must be ruined by now, and your pants are bound to be next, but Keith’s door is still resolutely closed, so you think he must not be in there.

You let out a growl of frustration and kick at the wall, but the only effect this has is to make your toes hurt. You pinch the bridge of your nose and try to breathe calmly for a minute. Then you make your way over to the training deck, but Keith isn’t there either. You decide that finding him is too much work for right now, so you go to the control room where you're certain Allura will be.

You barge in, talking before you’re even really in the room. “Princess, I have a –oh. There you are Keith, come here.” You grab Keith’s arm and exit the control room, leaving Allura confused and taking Keith confused.

“Lance- dude- what are you- where are you taking me?”

“Just down here.” You stop several feet down an adjacent hallway from the one leading to the control room. “You wouldn’t happen to have any pads or anything, would you? Because, my uh, ‘special friend’ is here.”

Keith winces in sympathy. “I don’t. Mine’s always been really infrequent. I think I’ve gotten it maybe twice in my life, actually.”

“While I know that probably means there’s something wrong, I can’t help but feel jealous.”

Keith smiles a little and shrugs. “Why don’t you ask Pidge?”

“Already did.”

“Allura?”

“I don’t want to.”

“Uh… Coran?”

“See previous answer.”

Keith gives you a half-hearted glare. “Lance, you’re gonna have to ask one of them.”

You let out a high-pitched whine, then let out a drawn out, “Why?”

“Lance. Blood everywhere is just gross.”

“Yeah, I know, I’ve been dealing with blood since I was nine dude.”

“That’s… early.”

“Not my period.”

Keith looks confused and you wave a hand at him. “I’ll explain when you’re older.”

“I’m older than you though.”

“Yeah, but don’t galra like, age slower or something? Sure, you’re 18 in earth years but galra live a really long time, so you’re probably like, still a baby to them.”

“…I guess? I’m still older than you. And you should maybe get something for your, what did you call it? ‘Special friend’?”

“Only if you come with me.”

“Fine. Let’s go.” Keith’s the one who drags you by the arm this time. He pushes you into the control room ahead of himself and says, “Princess, Lance has a very important question for you.”

“Oh really? What is it Lance?”

You freeze in your spot, not sure what to do. “Uh… yeah. What conditioner do you use, because your hair is gorgeous-”

“Lance, just ask her.”

You turn around and stick your tongue out at Keith, then turn back to Allura. “Alright, alright. Do Alteans have periods?”

“Do we have what?”

You can feel your face getting warmer by the second. “You know, like, menstruation?”

Allura’s face lights up in recognition. “Oh! Yes, except… we don’t call it ‘periods’ or whatever you said. Why do you ask?”

You look at your feet as you scuff your toes on the floor and mutter, “I need pads.”

“What was that?”

You sigh loudly and change from looking at your feet to looking at the ceiling. “I need pads,” you say, louder. Then, normal, “My period started.”

“But I thought only human women had those. Have I been misinformed?”

You look in Allura’s general direction. “Kind of. I’m transgender. Do you know what that is?”

Allura’s voice brightens as she says, “Yes I do! I am as well!”

She brings you into a bone crushing hug and you manage to get out, “Allura… can’t… breathe.”

“Oh. Right.” Allura sets you down gently and brushes off your shoulders. “I’m afraid I can’t help you, though. On Altea, it was also only those with a uterus who menstruated and I… don’t. However, Coran can help. He’s in the basement right now.”

You pull her into a hug gentler than the one she had crushed you in. “Thank you, Allura.” You pull back and straighten your jacket out. “Another question before I go; do you have anything to get blood out of clothes?”

“Yes. We’ll take care of that later. Now go, quickly.”

“Thanks!” You run out, headed for the basement as fast as you can (without an asthma attack). It takes you a few minutes to notice that there’s another set of footsteps alongside you. You look over and there’s Keith, jogging by your side.

“Dude,” you say, looking from him to the space in front of you and back. “What are you doing?”

“Dude,” he mimics (you can tell it’s mimicking by his tone of voice). “I’m coming with you.”

“Why?”

You glance over just as he shrugs. “Why not?”

You nod and look back in front of you. “Fair enough.” Then you grin to yourself and yell out, “Last one there’s a rotten egg!” and dart forward. Might as well turn it into a race.

(You lose.)

After everything gets… situated, you hang out with Hunk, wearing some of Coran’s old pants. As it turns out, the Alteans’ solution to periods is to… not have them.

Coran explained it to you and Keith. On the first day of their periods, they would inject something into their arms (like getting a shot) to nullify any symptoms of menstruation, and that would last 2 weeks.

There were, of course, a few complications with it, since Alteans and humans are two completely different species. For example, you still had cramps, although they weren’t as bad. It did stop the bleeding which is more than you were hoping for when you went to Coran.

But you were good now. You were hanging out with your best friend in your room. Though, it didn’t feel like it had at the Garrison. It felt different. Off, somehow. And you knew that it wasn’t just the stress of being pretty much the only thing standing between the Galra and universal domination.

It’s like you’ve been dancing around each other, wanting to say something but not wanting to or not being able to.

Come to think of it, it’s been like this for a while.

For you, you know it’s because you like Hunk. But could Hunk like you back? Could he feel the same way? And if he did, how would he feel if he knew you also liked Keith?

You’re overthinking.

Finally, you get tired of it. You don’t wanna think right now, you just want to do something. So you go with what feels natural and turn to where Hunk is on your bed to say, “Hunk?” He looks at you and you realize that you don’t have an actual plan. So instead, you keep following your instincts and move to sit right in front of him, noses almost touching.

“Hunk,” you say again, much softer.

“Yes?”

“Can… uh, can I kiss you?”

Hunk’s eyes widen and he says, “Yes.” You close your eyes and tilt your head to the side, fitting your lips together.

The kiss is quiet and slow, and Hunks lips are warm. When you pull away, it’s only slightly, and you keep your eyes closed.

“Lance?” You feel Hunk’s breath on your lips, light and warm.

“Yes?” Your eyebrows furrow and you worry that something is wrong, but Hunk’s hand comes and smooths out the wrinkles there.

“Can you kiss me again?”

You smile almost subconsciously and say, “Yes.”

 You and Hunk don’t announce your new relationship status to everyone else, but you think they can tell. Pidge is the only one who confronts you guys about it though.

“So have you finally confessed your feelings to each other or is this just a new, touchier form of friendship?” She asks.

“The first one,” Hunk answers. You smile first at him, then at Pidge, who smiles and rolls her eyes.

“Just be happy for us!” you complain. “You’re always so cynical and stuff.”

“I am happy. Didn’t you see me smiling?” She crosses her arms and looks up at you defiantly.

“Okay, what’s wrong, Pidge?” She lets her body loosen up a bit.

“How do you know something’s even wrong? Maybe this is just my face.”

“Nope. I know your face Pidge, and that’s not it. So what’s wrong?”

Pidge lets her arms drop the rest of the way. “I miss my family.”

You let go of Hunk’s hand and move over to Pidge to wrap an arm around her shoulders. Surprisingly, she doesn’t duck away, so you squeeze her a little closer to your side. “Listen, I get that you miss your family. Really, I do. I think about my family every day and I miss them so much. But if we dwell too much on the fact that we might never see them again, then we’ll be too sad to do anything that we need to do. Like kick some alien ass.”

She chuckles a little and you consider that a success, so you give her a noogie to lighten up the tension.

“Ugh! You’re like the second brother I never wanted.”

“And you’re the little sibling I always wanted,” you reply.

Pidge looks up at you. “Don’t you have a bunch of siblings?”

“Yes, but only one of them is significantly younger than me, and the age difference is 12 years. Then, of course there’s Anthony, but they’re only younger than me by 5 minutes.” You move to Hunk and grab his hand again. “Therefore, you are now my honorary little sibling.”

Pidge rolls her eyes again and huffs. “Fine.”

You head back to Hunk’s room, which you started sleeping in after you guys have the whole awkward-yet-thrilling ‘are we dating now?’ conversation. You spread out over the bed, letting your limbs dangle off of the sides.

“Lance, you should take off your binder,” Hunk reminds you.

“But it doesn’t even hurt,” you complain.

“Does that mean you’re gonna wait until it does?” Hunk gives you a piercing look to go with the question.

“No,” you grumble, moving to sit up and turn around so you have some sort of privacy while you take off your binder.

“Lance,” Hunk starts, while your back is still to him.

“Yeah bud?”

“Would it change things if I weren’t a guy?”

You twist your head to peer at him over your shoulder, arms still halfway through getting your binder off. “Well, yeah. I’d use different pronouns for you, and I’d call you something other than my boyfriend. But that’s about it. At least I’m pretty sure it is. Why?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking,” Hunk sits down as he speaks. “And I’m genderfluid. Sometimes I feel like a guy, but I don’t feel like that all the time. Like right now, for instance, I don’t really feel like anything.”

You toss your binder to the side and slowly say, “Alright.” You chew on your lip, pulling your shirt back over your head. You turn your body so that you can face Hunk. “What do you want me to call you then?”

“Still just Hunk. And I mean, right now… I don’t know. They?” They think about it for a minute. “Yeah. They works.”

You smile at them and grab their hands. “Alright. Hunk, my lovely partner. In crime.”

They blush and cover their face. “Lance.”

You shift closer to them. “We go around the universe, fighting the system and being incredibly gay as we do!” You lean against them, faces close together. They peck your lips and you smile a sly smile.

“Lance, what are you doing- ack!” They yelp as you pepper their face with kisses, trying to duck away, but you follow them until they hit the bed and you’re hanging over them, a half smile on your face.

You both look over as a knock sounds on the door. You peek your head around the frame as it whooshes open. It’s Keith, so you stand fully in the doorway.

He looks taken aback to see you there. “Oh. Hey Lance. I was looking for Hunk..?”

Hunk sits up and says, “Present.”

“Pidge’s voice said she needed you for something. I’m not sure what or where though?”

Hunk sighs. “I know what it is. Thanks.” They stand and stretch and you hold out your arms for them to hug. They smile and pick you up briefly. You may have squealed, but you’d deny it if anyone asked.

They laugh as they walk down the hall and you glare after them, sticking your tongue out when they turn around. “I didn’t die to be mistreated like this!” you call after Hunk and they shrug, smiling smugly.

Keith is squinting at you when you look back. “What?”

“You keep saying ‘I didn’t die for this’ and 'I didn't die for that' and I’m just… curious. What happened?”

You sigh. “Come in.”

“But… This is Hunk’s room.”

You sigh again, deeper this time. “Fine, we’ll go to my room. Come along.” You lead Keith across the hall to your room, which is in the same state of disarray as it was 2 weeks ago. You wince internally but move the disheveled blankets to the floor so the bed is easier to sit on.

Keith sinks into the bed next to you.

“Alright, Keith. What do you want to know?”

Keith looks uncomfortable, like he wishes he hadn’t asked but still wanted to know. He takes a deep breath and asks, “Did you really die?”

“Yeah dude. Twice.”

“How?”

You look down at your hands, twisting your fingers together.

“When I was younger, I had cancer… I died when I was 10.”

Keith’s eyes widen. “What… what was it like?”

You look at him and chew on your lip. “At the time, it wasn’t that scary. It felt like nothing, no pain, no light. But looking back, it was terrifying.” You look up, tears welling in your eyes. “I could be dead right now.”

You scrub a hand over your face. “And of course, y’know, of fucking course I’d relapse! I wasn’t even 18 and I had cancer twice. And on top of that, I get dragged into space and I’m already dying, again, and Sendak comes and fucks everything to hell even more!” You gasp for breath, tears now pouring down your face, hands curled into fists on top of your legs. “I should be dead! I should be dead right now, I shouldn’t be here, I should’ve died years ago but I didn’t because the universe has a cruel and fucked up sense of humor!”

Someone pulls you to your chest, but it’s not Keith. It’s Hunk. You don’t know when they got there, but you bury your face into their chest and sob, some of them coming out more as screams. From behind you, you feel Keith’s body pressing against yours in a hug.

You sit between Hunk and Keith, and while you probably should be dead, you find yourself glad, in this moment, that you aren’t.

 “Hey Hunk?”

You’re lying on Hunk’s bed, waiting for him to get dressed for bed.

“Yeah?”

“How do you feel about polyamory?”

Hunk hums in thought. “Depends. Who do you have in mind?”

You look away, embarrassed that he could read you so well. “Keith,” you mutter.

“What was that? You were mumbling, dear.” He sits on the bed by your legs and puts a gentle hand on them.

“I said, ‘Keith.’ Keith is the person I had in mind.”

Hunk grins at you, then positions himself so that he can lie down next to you. “I know. I can’t believe you still like him after 4 years.”

Your cheeks feel hot. “Shut up.”

Hunk chuckles and you scoot closer to him, wrapping your arms around him.

“So? You didn’t answer my question.”

“Oh, right. I’d be okay with it.”

You tilt your head so you can look at his face. “Really? Just like that?”

“Yeah. For one, I know that you’d be happy, and for another, I may or may not like him too.”

“That’s… That’s great!” you say. Your heart feels fluttery and warm. “I guess now we just gotta figure out if he likes us.”

Hunk yawns, mouth opening wide. “Yeah. But can we start on that tomorrow? I’m tired.”

“Sure thing, baby.”

That night, you dream.

It starts out pleasantly enough. You are with your family and it’s Christmas Day. You think it’s almost dinner time, but as you move to sit at the table with your family, each of them starts to vanish into thin air, almost like their bodies had suddenly become smoke. Soon, only Anthony is left. They stare at you, face twisted into a mask of hurt and anger.

“You said you wouldn’t leave us. You said you weren’t going anywhere. You lied to us!”

You tried to open your mouth to speak, but you couldn’t; you had no control of your body, so you could only sit and watch as Anthony stood. “How dare you show your face here after what you did to us!”

You feel like you’re going to throw up, or cry, or maybe both, but instead everything around you dissolves into nothing. You float in the darkness for what feels like an eternity before anything rematerializes around you.

You look around and the place is familiar but you don’t recognize it until you look beside you. It’s a heart monitor. You look around the room and remember exactly where this is. It’s the hospital room where you first died. You try to get up, run away, or do something, anything, but you’re tied down on the bed. You struggle against the bonds, breath quickening, but with each tug your arms get weaker.

At the end of the bed, something is moving. You find yourself afraid of whatever it is, because you know that as soon as you see it, horrible things will happen. You start to struggle with renewed energy, but you still can’t escape. The thing at the end of the bed rises up and towers over you, casting a dark shadow across the room. When look up into its face, it’s Sendak and Zarkon and Haxus and every other Galran soldier you had fought that got just a bit too close to killing you or one of your teammates.

“Too late, little paladin.” He raises his arm and you scream at the top of your lungs.

Then suddenly, you’re awake. You look around, heart hammering and tears on your cheeks. You rub your arms, and try to see anything, but it’s completely dark, and you fear that you may still be dreaming. Your breath quickens until you can hardly breathe at all.

A hand comes out of the darkness and places itself on your arm. As it does, you yell and push yourself away from it as fast as you can.

“Get away from me!”

A light turns on somewhere and there’s Hunk, standing by the door with their hands outstretched.

“Lance, it’s okay. You were having a nightmare, but you’re awake now.” There’s a slight pause before they ask, “Are you alright?”

You look at them, breath coming in gasping, wheezing breaths, and shake your head. You touch your ribs and Hunk seems to understand. They grab your jacket and search through the pockets. They hand you the new inhaler that they and Pidge made for you.

After you set it down, Hunk sits next to you. “What was it?”

You shake your head. “There was… Anthony. They were so angry. And then for a while it was nothing.” You shift over so that you’re in Hunk’s lap, head tucked into their chest. Tears start to leak out from under your eyelids and Hunk runs a comforting hand up and down your back until you fall asleep again.

The next day, you pretend that nothing happened. Hunk looks concerned but doesn’t say anything, and you feel grateful for that.

“D’you know your pronouns today, Tsu?” you ask as you walk to the dining hall.

“She/her,” comes the reply.

You grab her hand and squeeze it, gently. A silent thanks for the night before.

She squeezes back and smiles at you. You don’t know if she understood what you meant, but you smile back anyway.

Of course in the middle of breakfast (which both Allura and Shiro insist that you all have together ‘as a team’), the alarm starts going off.

You glance at Hunk and then race down the corridor. (You may have knocked over your chair). You change into your armor as quickly as you can and go to the control room.

When you get there, everyone is present except for Hunk and Keith. It only takes a few seconds for this to become false, however, as they both tumble through the door at the same time, Hunk’s hand stuck on Keith’s back with what seems to be… food goo?

“Hunk, what are you doing?” you ask, placing your hands on your hips. Good god, you feel like your mother. The thought makes your chest ache, but you push the feeling aside.

Hunk looks up at you then back to where her hand seems to be superglued to Keith’s back. “Well, I touched something on the wall, and then I saw Keith, and I wanted to pat him on the back, but then my hand got stuck, and I’ve been trying to unstick it for a while now.”

You sigh and go over to them, telling Keith to lay down so you can put your foot on his back.

“What? Why would I do that?” he protests, trying to turn and look at you, but being anchored in place by Hunk.

“Do you want Hunk’s hand off of you or not?”

He looks away and mutters, “Yes.” It almost looks like he’s blushing, but he lays down, so you can’t get a closer look. You place your foot on Keith’s back and grab Hunk’s arm, telling her to pull her arm back and for Keith to do his best to keep his body on the ground.

“On the count of three. 1…2…3!” You and Hunk yank upward while Keith mostly just lets his body dangle. He hangs there by a few threads of goo for a moment, before he falls with a loud thud.

Allura looks at all of you as you and Hunk help Keith up.

“Okay. Well, now that that’s done with. We are approaching a Galra inhabited planet. The castle has been cloaked and we will hide behind a nearby moon before deploying the lions. Try to disable as much of the Galra technology as you can before you are discovered, but once you are, attack full force.

“According to my sources, the Galra general who is in charge of this planet is fairly weak and does not have much power, so it should be simple to defeat him, but don’t let your guard down. Understand?” You nod as a group and Allura dismisses you to your lions.

It takes a bit to get through the planet’s thick, cloudy atmosphere, but when you do, you see the Galran machines and factories. It’s worse than it was at Shay’s Balmera.

You almost can’t see the actual surface of the planet because of how covered it is in metal. But from what you can see, you can tell that the planet used to be beautiful.

“How are we gonna fight all of that?” Pidge laments.

“You heard the princess,” you say. “Sneaky. And it’s not like a Balmera. The planet isn’t alive, so we don’t have to be as careful.”

“But the people are,” Shiro cuts in. “Which means we actually do still have to be careful with whatever it is we’re doing.”

“Maybe we could disable the towers from inside,” Keith suggests.

You can almost see Pidge’s face light up. “Yeah! We cut off the communication all at once and then start taking down the sentries and soldiers. Once communications are back up, we’ve already taken down a huge chunk of their forces!”

“Do we still have any signal jammers though?” Hunk asks.

“Yeah! There’s a whole bunch in our lab! And I’ve stored a couple here in Green.”

“So we can all go to a different tower and attach them to the main hub in each one… unless there’s a central hub for the whole planet?” Hunk hums to herself.

Then, Keith’s voice: “Could we just jam each individual hub? Just to be safe?”

“Yeah, I agree with Keith on this one. Allura said we should try to do this quickly and looking for a central hub could take a while,” you say.

“She didn’t say that,” Pidge argues.

“Okay, maybe not in so many words, but she wants us to take out as many forces as we can before we get caught and the longer we just sit here, the more likely that is to happen.”

There’s what seems to be a stunned silence before you add, indignantly, “What? I’m smart!”

“I know you are,” Hunk says.

“Well I know you know. But seriously, can we get on with it? I feel like we’re just a bunch of sitting ducks here.”

Over the comms you here Coran mumble, “Again with the duck seats.”

“Alright.” It’s Shiro again. “We’ll land so that we can get the signal jammers then make our way to each of the towers. All while not being caught.”

You hear Keith mumble “This should be fun.”

As it turns out, taking down the general was pretty simple. You didn’t even need to do anything; he just jumped into what seemed to be a death pit, judging by the bubbling acid inside it.

Just to make sure it actually was a death pit and not just and illusion, you grab a stick and poke the end of it into the pit. What comes back is a sizzling nub, so the general was definitely dead.

The hard part is clearing out and disabling all of the sentries. Eventually, Pidge realizes that she can just disable them all at once by using some tech thing that you don’t quite understand but Hunk seems to enjoy immensely.

After that, you’re done with the planet in a matter of hours. Most of that time is spent on diplomacy.

You feel physically and emotionally exhausted by the time you get back to the castle, and your chest feels like it’s about to cave in (which could very well be true). You pull off your armor and pull your arms into the jumpsuit to fit them under your binder and pull it away from your chest for a little.

After several minutes, your hands get tired, but your chest feels better, so you think it’s worth it. Hunk’s already out of her armor completely, so you decide that you’d better get dressed too. Once you are, you and Hunk make your way to the den where Keith is sitting upside down on one of the couches. You look closer to see what he’s holding in his hand and once you can see it, it looks like a Gameboy.

“What’cha got there, Keith?” you ask, leaning in to see what he’s playing. He jumps and the Gameboy falls on the floor. You pick it up and say, “Sorry,” trying not to laugh.

Keith snatches it back, scowling and turning so he’s upright. “Shut up.”

You let out a shocked laugh. “What? All I said was sorry!”

“You were laughing. And you’re just gonna make fun of me, so leave me alone.” He holds the Gameboy closer to his face and continues playing. You refuse to give up on him though, so you sit down next to him.

“Why would I make fun of you? I loved those things, but uh, I kept breaking them, so my parents stopped replacing them.” You rub the back of your neck sheepishly as you say this. Then you let your arm drop around Hunk’s shoulders (who has sat down by this point) and look back over to Keith. “So, what are you playing?”

Keith squints at you like he’s trying to figure out if you’re joking or not. Once he determines that you’re serious, he starts going on about this game called Metroid. The gameplay, the characters, the different levels. You can’t quite process all of the information he’s throwing at you and it doesn’t look like Hunk’s getting much of it either, but you’ve never seen Keith so enthusiastic about something, so you let him go on.

It takes a while (Keith has a lot of opinions about Metroid) but eventually Keith runs out of things to say and grows quiet.

“So. Um. Yeah.”

You don’t know what to say for a moment, surprised that with how much he seemed to know about the game that he actually didn’t know what to say now.

Your stomach grumbles loudly before anyone says anything, so you chuckle and say, “Right. We didn’t finish breakfast. You coming Keith?”

He looks surprised that you’d invite him, but you nod to confirm that, yes, you want him to join you and Hunk for lunch. Or maybe dinner? You aren’t quite sure. Time is confusing in space.

In bed that night, Hunk asks, “So can we both agree that Keith is really really cute and that we wanna date him?”

It takes some doing, but you and Hunk finally agree on how to approach Keith.

The conversations had been a bit funny, you thought. Mostly, you had kept saying, “Space flowers!” while Hunk shot you down.

“No, Lance,” they’d say. “This is Keith we’re talking about. I don’t think he’d like something big and showy.” You roll your eyes, but Hunk is right; Keith likes to keep things to himself.

After you stop suggesting space flowers, you come up with an idea could actually work: “We should just talk to him when he’s alone.”

Hunk ponders this for a moment. “Yeah. Like, go to his room or something and ask to talk to him.”

“And then we can tell him we like him and ask if he wants to date us.”

“And hopefully he does, but you know, if he doesn’t, that’s his choice,” Hunk says, shrugging.

You clap a hand on their shoulder. “We’ll still have each other buddy.”

Hunk smiles and wraps their arms around you in a hug. “Yeah. We’ll always have each other.”

Then of course, you have to find a time to approach Keith when neither you or Hunk are super nervous and Keith is by himself.

This doesn’t happen for another week, approximately (again, time is weird in space).

It’s a free day and surprisingly, nothing interesting has happened all day.

Not yet, anyway.

After breakfast, you grab Hunk’s hand and ask, “Now?”

She bites her lip then says, “Yeah. Now.”

You grab her hand and start tugging her in the direction of the rooms, determined to get this over with, for better or for worse, before your nerves get in the way.

When you get to Keith’s room, you and Hunk hold up your hands and knock at the same time. The door slides open and Keith is standing there, looking curious.

“Uh… Hey Hunk, Lance. What’s up?”

“Can we talk to you?” you ask, heart racing. You hope your hands aren’t shaking.

“Sure. What is it?” Keith asks, making no attempt to move aside.

“We were hoping to come in?” Hunk says, voice pitching up.

“Oh! Oh, yeah, sure thing.” He turns around and moves to his bed, sitting hesitantly. You and Hunk step in, hands interlocked. Keith glances at your hands then at your faces, and you can’t tell what he’s thinking.

Hunk moves to sit on one side of Keith and you go to the other.

“Keith, have you ever been in a relationship?” You ask, getting right to the point. You almost can’t feel your heartbeat, it’s beating so fast.

“Not… really. Why?”

Hunk lets out a long breath. “Keith… we like you.”

“I like you guys too?”

“No, we mean romantically. We wanna date you, if that’s okay with you,” you say.

Keith looks between you and Hunk, wide eyed. “Seriously?”

You and Hunk nod as Keith looks between you.

“So, what do you say?” Hunk asks holding out her hand.

“I… I don’t know. I’ve never dated anyone before. I don’t know what you’re supposed to do.”

You smile, fonder than you intend. “We can show you if you let us.”

Keith twists his hands together, worry on his face, and Hunk still has her hand out behind him. “Alright.”

“Well then take Hunk’s hand. She’s been holding it out for like, five minutes.”

Keith looks between you and Hunk again, confused, as he seems to be a lot. “She?”

Your eyes widen and you whisper, “Shit.” Then, in your normal voice, “Sorry Hunk.”

Hunk chuckles. “It’s okay. I was gonna tell him anyway.”

“Tell me what..?”

Hunk turns from you to Keith and grabs both of his hands. “Keith, I’m genderfluid.”

“Oh! Okay. And you haven’t told anyone?”

Hunk smiles and you do the same. “Yeah. Just Lance. And now, you.”

“Well don’t I feel special,” Keith says softly.

“As you should,” you say. “You’ve gotta be pretty special to have caught the attention of Hunk.”

“Well, what about you?” Keith asks. He tilts his head to the side and you have to try very hard not to squeal because holy shit he’s adorable.

You shrug off the question and say, “Meh.”

“Lance,” Hunk says, drawing out your name. You avoid eye contact by looking up at the ceiling. “Lance, look at me.” Reluctantly, you look at her and she lets go of one of Keith’s hands to grab yours. “You are special. And nothing you say or do can change that.”

You bury your face in Keith’s shoulder and groan. On the other side of Keith, you hear Hunk say, “And that’s how we do relationships.”

Keith sounds like he’s smiling when he says, “I can’t wait.”