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Keith examines his nails, which are currently midnight blue, before absently peeling off the polish. Lance painting his nails has become a common occurrence these days. Their “rivalry” as Lance still insists on calling it, hasn’t changed, they still have their disagreements, Lance still enjoys goading him into stupid challenges, and Keith is as snarky as ever. Yet, there’s an underlying warmth to it all now. What is even stranger about this development is that their bickering is now sometimes interrupted by moments of shared quiet and honesty. Where Lance used to get annoyed and loud, or quiet and withdrawn whenever he missed his home, he now confides in Keith more often than not. It’s hard, comforting others. Touching people can be so awkward, finding the right words is impossible sometimes, but Keith finds they make it work. Sometimes all it takes for him to do, is to gently guide Lance away from the big window from which he likes to stare out into space, wondering what his family might be doing, and bring him into his room, where the walls feel solid and grounding. There he gets Lance to paint his nails a new shade, or talk to him about the things he misses most about Earth. Sometimes they just sit together in silence, each with his own thoughts - alone together. Yesterday was different. Lance seemed shifty, and while he is generally unable to stay still, Keith felt that something was up. He is getting a feel for how much fidgeting is normal with Lance.
“Hey,” Lance said from where he was sitting on Keith’s bedroom floor, “have you ever been to pride?”
Keith started. They hadn’t mentioned the conversation that had taken place one and a half weeks prior, and Keith had begun to assume they would never talk about it again. He shifted on his bed. “Uh, no. Shiro offered to take me a couple of times, but there’s so many people, it’s super loud, and… it just felt weird.” He swallowed. “Have you?”
“No,” Lance said gloomily. “I’ve always wanted to go, it seemed so fun, and I would have loved to hang out with all of these people I could just be myself around, you know?”
“So why did you never go?” Keith asked, immediately realising how loaded that question probably was. Lance didn’t seem to mind though.
“Back home in Cuba, I kind of couldn’t, I guess? Cause,” he cleared his throat, “I wasn’t really out. I mean, my family sort of knew, but my mom didn’t really get it. Weirdly, she had no problem with her son wearing a little make-up now and then, or painting his nails, but when I brought up liking guys, she just shut down.” Lance bowed his head and studied a dent in the floor, where Keith had once dropped a weight. After a while he continued, “It’s weird. When I came out to her, she told me she still loved me, but she kinda didn’t take it seriously that I was bi. Am bi. She sort of said that it was just a phase, and that bisexuality isn’t really a thing. And whenever I brought it up later, she just changed the subject. Like thinking about it made her super uncomfortable or something.” He furrowed his brows and ran a finger over the indentation in the floor. “I tried to stop, you know? Stop thinking about guys, hoping that if I just found the right girl I could ignore that part of me.” The way his voice sounded a little desperate, despite him making an effort not to, still makes Keith’s heart hurt just thinking about it.
“Of course that’s not how it works,” Lance laughed drily. “When I got to the Garrison, I guess I could have gone to pride, but for some reason I never did. I started being more open about the whole thing, but if I’m being completely honest? Talking about guys that way still makes me feel a little weird. Is that insane? Like, I almost feel I’m doing something wrong, when I find a guy attractive." He swallowed. "Like, even though I love being bi, and I know I definitely like guys, a small part of me still thinks it’s wrong and gross.” With a frustrated groan he buried his head in his hands. “Does that make me a terrible person?” Lance asked, his face still hidden in his arms, shoulders tense. Keith's chest ached. Seeing Lance so vulnerable, knowing that he had been hurt deeply enough to cause him such anguish even when he was miles away from home made Keith's throat feel tight with emotion.
“It makes you a person who grew up in a society that made you feel this way, and that’s not your fault.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Lance mumbled into the sleeve of his shirt.
“What you are is normal and okay. You already know that. You just need to unlearn all that hate you’ve been taught and that’ll take a while, I suppose.” Keith resisted the urge to roll his eyes at himself. How was this helpful? How would that make Lance feel better? God, he sucked at this.
Lance looked up to where Keith was sitting on the bed and gave him a tired smile. It was leagues off from his usual bright grin. “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks, I guess sometimes you need a reminder of that.” He turned back and began picking at a piece of skin on his thumb. "God, I don't know why I'm even being upset about this now. It's just so damn quiet in space, and I was thinking about home, and wondering if it'll be different, when I come back. If I come back."
Keith slid down to sit next to him on the floor, leaning back against the bed frame. “I’m sorry about your mom. It really sucks that she won't accept it.” Lance stopped fidgeting and lifted his head to meet Keith’s eyes.
“I love my mom. I know she just wants what’s best for me, and she just doesn’t understand it, and maybe I need to keep trying to explain it. And it could be so much worse, I mean, she didn't kick me out, or anything. I just...” his voice sounded like he was close to tears.
“I know,” Keith said quietly. Lance closed his eyes and rested his head against Keith’s shoulder. Physical contact had always been awkward to Keith, he never knew what to do with his hands, every motion just felt wrong, but right then he didn’t hesitate to put an arm around Lance’s shoulders and pull him close. The points where their bodies made contact warmed quickly and when Keith moved his head just slightly to the left, he could feel Lance's hair tickling his cheek. They sat like that for a while, Lance not saying anything, not crying either, although Keith could tell by the way his breathing sometimes hitched that he was making an effort not to. Meanwhile Keith was racking his brain trying to come up with something soothing or uplifting to say, and drawing a blank. “I’ll go to pride with you,” he finally blurted. Lance raised his head abruptly.
“What?”
Keith blushed. “When we come back to Earth," he took care to emphasise the 'when', as though it was an inevitability, "I’ll go to pride with you. With flags and stuff,” he finished lamely.
“Seriously?" Lance's eyes sparked. "But I thought you didn’t like crowds.”
“Would be worth it. With you,” Keith mumbled.
“Shut up!” Lance exclaimed, but he was beaming and Keith could tell he was pleased. His mood seemed to improve after that, and they ended up changing the subject, talking quietly about nothing and everything, before Lance retreated to his own room. All night Keith’s thoughts kept straying to what Lance had said. He hadn’t had the same experience, but he could still relate. For the longest time he hadn’t even been sure if he liked anyone, and when he figured out he was trans, and realised what that meant in the grand scheme of his life, he’d tried not to think about it at all, because it seemed infinitely complicated and like it would be a lot of trouble. Of course, as Lance pointed out, those feelings don’t go away though. When he told Shiro, the first person he ever told, he received nothing but support and love. “I know this isn’t what you bargained for when you took me in; a trans gay kid. I’m sorry, I’m so much trouble,” Keith had said, but Shiro had shaken his head. “I had no idea what I bargained for, Keith. You turned out to be even more awesome and clever, and bright than I already knew. I’m so, so proud of you.” Keith decided needed to give Shiro a hug the next time they’re alone. He smiled thinking about how lucky he got to have Shiro as a guardian.
He examines his hands. His nails are almost bare now, save for tiny flecks of blue that are stubbornly sticking to the sides. It’s strange, for a couple of days he felt almost completely comfortable wearing nail polish, but he isn't so sure anymore. Maybe it's the colour, maybe it's something else. Shiro had patted his shoulder when he saw and said “Looks cool.” It had felt right, until suddenly it didn’t. Keith can't seem to figure out what it is. He pushes it from his mind. He knows he'll probably have to deal with these thoughts sooner or later, but for now he ignores them and ventures out into the castle in search of company. If his feet carry him towards the training room, where he knows Lance is hanging out, it's completely accidental.