Chapter Text
When Lance thought about it, graduating was overrated. He didn’t need to graduate. Dropping out? That was where it was at. What was the point of school? Was there one? Constant daily pain and suffering, and for what? A piece of paper? What would he do with that in a small town like this? Nothing. The answer was nothing. There was nothing at school that Lance had a reason to go back for, that was the thing. Lance could make a living without that degree. He could, for instance, open his own farm at the mountain’s edge. He could also just work at his own family farm with his mother and sister. That would work.
“Lance! Get your lazy ass out of bed!” And speak of the devil, there was his sister. Veronica. Why couldn’t she just let Lance lay in bed and reason his way out of getting up for school? It was only Monday and he had already had more than enough. There was only so much a guy could take, and the teacher, Mr. Iverson, was such a dick, no one could even blame Lance.
“Lance!” another shout came. “I will come up there and drag you out of the bed!”
With a grimace, Lance lolled his head over to the side to stare at his door, which remained partially open. That threat was not empty; Lance knew from personal experience that she would carry it out. With a sigh, Lance kicked his leg out lazily, shoving the blanket halfway down his body. A mistake, surely. Lance shivered as the cold morning air attacked his chest and arms, the warmth immediately escaping. Whining, Lance kicked the rest of the blanket off. He rolled over dramatically, as if it were the biggest inconvenience of his life. His legs spilled over the edge and slid along the side of the mattress until his bare feet hit the carpeted floor. Moving like molasses, Lance let his body slip out of the bed after his legs until he was just crouching next to the bed, huddled into a ball to preserve whatever remaining warmth he could scoop up. Lance stayed there for a long moment.
Suddenly, the door to the room clattered inward. Lance didn’t have to look up to know that it was Veronica, but he still pretended that he didn’t hear her entrance at all. “Lance,” her voice sighed. “You’re going to be late.”
“I’m quitting,” Lance muttered into his knees.
“What?” Veronica stepped closer and placed a hand on her hip.
Lance pressed his cheek into his knee and stared up at her through his blurry eyes, making no attempt to properly wake up. “I’m quitting life today. You can just dump my body into the compost bin,” he clarified.
Veronica clicked her tongue and stuck a foot out to lightly kick at Lance’s leg, jostling him and earning herself a protesting grunt. She was not impressed, if her exasperated groan was anything to go by. “Lance, stop being such a drama queen and get up! I’ll get mamá, don’t think I won’t,” she threatened.
That got Lance immediately moving, because if there was one thing that Lance was more afraid of than facing a cold Monday morning, it was facing a cold Monday morning at the hands of Ms. McClain. She was one scary woman. Scary in the kindest and most gentle way, of course. Even thinking negative thoughts about her was a dangerous game because she could always tell, somehow.
Uncurling himself from his position on the floor, Lance stretched up and out. He forced his hands into the air as far as they could go until his back popped into place. A sigh escaped him and he relaxed once more. “Look at that,” Lance calmly, smiling at his sister kindly, “the sun is shining, the sky is bright, and I am ready to face the day.” Veronica’s arms were still on her hips and an eyebrow was raised as she watched Lance pretend like he wasn’t about to tumble over from the weight of his under-eye bags. Lance just smiled lopsided. And with that, he scooted past his sister’s unimpressed and judgemental stare until he was able to slip out of the room and down the hall.
It was always like that on Mondays. It wasn’t that Lance didn’t like to go to school and learn, because he did like it, but he just couldn’t imagine getting out of bed on a day like a Monday. What a horrendous activity. Still, every Monday, he managed enough inner strength and endured enough yelling from Veronica that he was able to pull himself together for long enough that he could get ready. Besides, Pidge and Hunk were waiting for him and he knew that if he didn’t go to school, they’d wonder if he was alright. Worrying his friends was never something that Lance wanted, so, Monday or no, Lance would go to school.
And yet, as Lance meandered his way down the hall and to the bathroom to remove his nightly face mask, he couldn’t help but think that this Monday was not the same as every other Monday. There was something off about it. He couldn’t quite place his finger on what, and in his tired and dazed slump it wasn’t like he was about to try to either, but it still incessantly nagged at the back of his mind.
He stared into the mirror with dead, bloodshot eyes, wondering to himself how people could be so cruel as to make others get up at such an early hour. His face was shimmering where the mask had been placed and his skin looked flawless, more so than usual. At least something good was coming from this forlorn Monday. He cracked a wide grin at his reflection. For as tired as he was, he didn’t look half bad. But when did he ever? Lance let the water run and leaned his face in, gently scooping the stream toward his face in order to erase the face mask. Once that was done, he grabbed a fresh towel from the closet and patted his cheeks dry. By that time, Lance almost looked like he was awake. All he needed was some food in him and a little morning care, then he would be ready to face the day as if he hadn’t ever been contemplating spending the day in bed.
The prickly feeling at the back of his neck, however, it persisted.
Lance left the bathroom, a newfound feeling of energy surging through him. His longs legs bounded down the stairs and into the kitchen where Veronica and his mother were milling about.
“Lance,” his mother frowned, “stop giving your sister a hard time!” She pointed a spoon at him with an air of authority before returning to mixing something in a little ceramic bowl.
“What?!” Lance squawked. He stared between the two of them, affronted. “She was the one who was bothering me!”
Veronica rolled her eyes and settled into the table with a bowl of oatmeal and a glass of orange juice. “It’s called waking you up. You know, because you can’t do it on your own,” she clicked her tongue impatiently.
“Well, thanks, but I didn’t ask for your ‘help,’” Lance made air quotations as he force the last word out. Veronica looked unimpressed, glaring at him full force.
His mother made a displeased noise, staring between the two of them. “If you had spent any longer in bed, Lance, I would have come woken you up myself,” she told him, raising an eyebrow that somehow managed to be more threatening than ten Veronica’s all judgementally looking at him.
“Ooh,” Veronica lowly hummed, a grin overtaking her face. “You almost got the slipper.” There was clear amusement ringing in her voice as she chirped at him and all Lance could do was snootily raise his nose and harrumph.
Veronica was always one to take things too seriously, but when Lance was involved, and more particularly, when he was being made fun of in some way, she always seemed to loosen right up. It was a sibling instinct of some kind, there was no other explanation. Lance would know since he did the exact same thing right back to her every chance he got. It had always been that way too, even when they were little.
Their mother gave one last stir to the bowl in her hands before stepping around the corner with purpose. She set the bowl right in front of Lance before giving a sharp pat to his shoulder. Lance lurched forward a little bit at the impact. His mother was a strong woman. “Eat up, you have school soon and you can’t work on an empty stomach,” she told him, smiling at him with a confidence that Lance found himself mimicking unintentionally.
“Thanks, mamá,” Lance called, forgetting all about the mini disagreement he had been having with his sister only moments before. With one solid scoop, Lance shovelled the oatmeal into his mouth and hummed loudly. Once he had swallowed, he loudly stated, “I could never go to school on an empty stomach when your food is so good.” He smiled back at her over his shoulder, sitting up a bit straighter.
“It’s just oatmeal, Lance,” his mother reminded him.
Lance shuffled in his chair to better look back at her. “Ah, but it’s made with love,” he happily added.
She continued back behind the counter to put away the cooking supplies that she had gotten out, although Lance could see the amused and loving smile on her face right before she turned her back to them.
When Lance spun back around in his seat to eat his oatmeal once more, his sister was glaring at him with a flat and unimpressed look. “Kiss ass,” she muttered under her breath.
Lance returned the comment with a smarmy-looking grin and a whispered, “What? I just love mamá’s cooking.”
Veronica’s expression got even flatter, if that was possible. She looked about ready to toss something at Lance. Still, she said nothing, instead choosing to chat with their mother as she ate. Lance didn’t mind much. He just ate his oatmeal, giving his two cents here or there when he had something to say. Normally, Lance had much more to say and he would chat about whatever was happening in town, but not this time.
For the most part, his mind was focused on the pin pricks of something unexplainable that kept stabbing into the back of his mind, drawing him in and whispering warnings at him, none of which he could quite make out. The feeling was really starting to bother him and get to him. It was like an itch that was just under the skin where he couldn’t reach it. His eyebrows furrowed as he thought it over, attempting to reach a conclusion on the feeling. It was almost like a forgotten dream that tickled at the edge of his consciousness, just ever-so-slightly too far for Lance to grasp at it. There was a sort of static in his mind as he clawed at the feeling, mentally retracing his footsteps over and over again in an attempt to catch the prickling sensation in its own tracks. His eyes twitched as a cool wave of stings flowed over his head.
“Lance? Lance?” Veronica was calling to him. He wasn’t sure for how long she had been calling, but both her and his mother were looking at him with concern. And just like that, his mind cleared entirely. As if there was never a cloud in the sky of his mind, everything was bright again.
“Huh?” Lance dumbly blurted out, staring at Veronica with wide eyes.
She furrowed her eyebrows suspiciously. “Are you okay? You kind of disappeared there…” she cautiously informed him.
Lance nodded once, then again, quicker. He smiled easily, although the tentative looker would have been able to pull apart the pieces that gave away his nervousness. Kicking his chair back and standing smoothly, Lance recovered himself and his bowl of half-eaten oatmeal off the table. “Fine,” he said, “just thinking about that project I have due.” It was an obvious lie but it also could have just as easily been true. Veronica gave him another strange look, but Lance ignored it and retreated back to the kitchen when he cleaned out his bowl. The entire time, he pointedly ignored his mother’s worried look as well.
“Are you feeling sick, Lance?” she asked, stepping forward with her hand out as if she was going to check his forehead.
Lance ducked under her arm and gave his mother a quick kiss on the cheek. “No, mamá, I’m fine. Just tired. You know how Mondays are,” he laughed, although it was distracted. He gave her another, more comforting smile. Glancing over to Veronica, he smiled to her too. Then, before anyone could question it too hard, Lance slipped past his mother again and hurried upstairs. Arriving at his room, Lance slipped inside and calmly shut the door behind him.
There was a moment of silence, everything was calm and quiet. No one downstairs seemed to be coming to check on him. Slowly, and yet not unexpectedly, like a drop of ink infecting a glass of clear water, the uneasy and knowing feeling returned to his mind. It slithered up his brain stem, prickling him along the way and alerting him. There was a warning in there. Something that told Lance to be on his guard and to pay attention. Lance did his best to ignore it. There was nothing new about the feeling, but it had been a long time since he had felt anything as strong as that. Something was wrong. Whatever had happened, it was bad. It was really bad. As long as Lance’s mind played cat and mouse with the notion of it, he wouldn’t be able to tell what it was.
With a look of confusion, Lance wandered over to his closet and picked out the first shirt he could find. Lance was the type of guy who planned his outfit out meticulously to make sure he was stunning every single day, but Lance couldn’t even pretend to care about what clothes he was picking on this day. Luckily, after retrieving a random pair of jeans, Lance found that he didn’t look that bad. Still, Lance grabbed his bomber jacket off the back his laundry chair and slipped it on, just to add an extra layer of protection from that weird eerie feeling.
Finally, Lance stood back and stared into the mirror. He smoothed out his shirt. With a nod, Lance grabbed his backpack and hurried out of the room. His feet thundered down the stairs in his rush to leave the house. Not only did he need to get to school, but he also needed to figure out what that weird feeling he had was and the best way to do that was to go investigate the town. Whatever terrible event had happened, it had happened in town. Lance was sure of that.
“Bye mamá! Bye Veronica!” Lance called as he slipped his shoes on and whipped the front door open.
There was a clattering as his mother swept herself around the corner to stare at Lance. “Have you got everything?” she asked, a furrow to her brows.
Lance, with his hand still on the doorknob, sighed, “Yes, I have everything.”
A frown made its way over her face as she stared at him, one arm instinctually finding its was to her hip. “Your lunch?” she questioned, a superior air about her. “Did you grab it?”
Lance’s entire body sagged and he whined, “Yes, mamá, I grabbed it.”
She gave Lance another onceover, still not entirely convinced that he really was ready to leave. Lance’s feet shifted and bounced, both wanting nothing more than to hurry away and start his trek to school. “Alright, goodbye Lance. Te quiero. Have a good day!” his mother relented. She approached him with open arms, which Lance was too weak to not accept. He retracted his hand from the doorknob and happily, yet still hastily, hugged his mother. One quick kiss later, Lance was removing himself from his mother and heading back out the door.
“Te quiero, mamá. Bye!” he tried again.
“Cya, nerd,” Veronica shouted back through a mouthful of oatmeal. Lance huffed a laugh to himself at the insult. It was filled with genuine love, even if Veronica wouldn’t ever admit it.
Lance shut the door behind him, not bothering to lock it since he knew his mother was right there to lock it behind him anyway. He spun on his heel and stared out at the strong mountain just across the street from his own house. Well, mountain was quite a bit more generous than what it deserved. More than anything, it was an overrated hill. It was a mound of dirt with trees on it, and if you really wanted to believe, it could maybe be a mountain, but not much of one. Still, it was the one great wonder in the town of Lionsville, which had no mountains to speak of. In a town that was nothing but solid planes of dirt and flat grassy fields, you tended to take what you could get, and Mount Altea was it.
Speaking of wide open nothingness, Lance began marching down the empty dirt trail leading up to their house from the road, completely lined by open fields full of vegetable gardens as far as the eye could see. They were all fresh and well taken care of, sparkling in the morning sun where the dew droplets were nestled. Lance could practically smell the vegetables that were ready to be picked as he passed them and they brought an air of happiness to him. It momentarily managed to drown out the stabbing stings in the back of his brain, but the farm always managed to take Lance’s mind away from things like that.
That was the work of Lance and his family. His mother and sister were both extremely hard-working, and for as long as Lance could remember, he knew them to be farmers. Lance was quite proud of what his family was known for and he wanted to help his family as often as he could in their family profession, but at the same time, he knew that he wanted to go to school and make something of himself there as well.
Seated on one of the posts in the fence that bordered the property, Lance could clearly see the back of a figure with a red leather jacket. His head was tilted back as he stared at the sky, his jet-black hair splaying out across his neck like a wild, untamed beast, which perfectly matched the person it belonged to. One of his legs was propped up on the fence, giving him a better position to study the clouds overhead. The soft flow of air sweeping past didn’t seem to affect him in the least, his hair remaining perfectly untouched.
And, just like every morning when Lance stood in the light breeze with the sun gently laying a blanket over the town and stared down the dirt trail at the boy on the fence post, his heart lurched forward, pulling him along. His feet moved calmly and with purpose but underneath that composure and that easy, morning smile, Lance’s heart was going a mile a minute and his palms were sweating at just the thought of the boy. Each electric tingle that sparked up Lance’s nerves and stole his breath away felt stronger the closer he got.
“Morning, Keithy! How’re you doing?” Lance greeted as he came up beside the fence post at the end of the road, his feet slowing to a stop but his heart continuing on as if he were sprinting.
“You haven’t heard the news,” came the reply. Not a single pause of consideration for a greeting from the other, just straight into whatever thing he urgently had to tell Lance. It wasn’t even a question, he just knew.
Lance’s eyes flicked up and met the incredible violets staring down at him. Time stopped for a moment, just as it always did when that vibrant gaze was directed at him. There was a mysterious, yet completely severe, squint to his eyes which was accompanied by the intense pull of his eyebrows. His mouth was set and sombre, holding back words and biting his tongue as he waited for Lance’s response. Black strands of hair fell around his shoulders and into his face, framing his face so naturally. It was a talent how he always looked like a model, even in his most serious state. Keith Kogane was truly beautiful.
“The news?” Lance echoed, confused. “No, what happened?” After a year of being in love with Keith, Lance had mastered the art of pretending he was totally not pining over him. It helped that Keith was oblivious to feelings. Anyone’s feelings on anything.
Keith’s head flicked up to the mountain across the street. “They found bones on Altea this morning,” Keith told him gravely.
That stinging sensation shocked Lance’s brain once more, tickling at his neck and raising all the hairs. Lance flinched visibly as it all came crashing into him. “They, what…? Bones? Were they human? Did someone die?” Lance started, his eyes instantly squinting up at the mountain.
Keith nodded, his gaze travelling back to the mountain as well. “The police are going out to investigate soon, so I’m not sure. The mountain is closed off. You can’t get much farther than the sign near the top. I think they’re trying to keep this whole thing a secret right now.”
“They can’t do that!” Lance protested.
Keith sighed and grumbled, “They can and they are.”
“That’s ridiculous! The town’s going to find out soon anyway. Nothing stays secret for long. Someone could stub their toe and it would be news in the same day. There’s no way they can cover up a death without anyone noticing. Hell, there’s no way that someone could accidentally die up there without anyone noticing,” Lance commented. He tried his best to will away the pain in the back of his neck but it only got worse the longer he stared toward the mountain. Finally, Lance tore his eyes away, instead choosing to focus them on Keith.
“I was up there earlier and…” Keith paused, his eyebrows furrowing further. He swallowed around his next words, choosing them carefully like it pained him to even say anything at all. “Lance, I don’t think it was an accident.” The words hung in the air, a stark contrast to the tense air of the conversation. Keith’s face scrunched up even more until it was hard to even look at him. “Those bones were… There were grooves in them. A lot of grooves,” he revealed.
“Grooves like…?” Lance urged. He took a hesitant step toward the fence post. His eyebrows pulled together.
“Like something sharp chipped them. In the chest,” Keith finished. That intense violet stare focused in on Lance again as he attempted to convey the severity of his message.
Lance stood there in silence, just meeting Keith’s steadfast eyes. “They were stabbed,” Lance concluded. A shiver ran up his spine.
Keith didn’t break his gaze. Slowly, he muttered, “I’m just saying I don’t like it.” His jaw worked in a circular motion as he grinded his teeth and pensively stared through Lance, lost in thought.
With the mountain being closed off, there would have been no way that anyone would have been able to get up there to see the bones, but trust Keith to do just that. It wasn’t that Keith liked to get into trouble, but he wasn’t one to sit back and watch things transpire while he waited for an answer. No, Keith was the type of guy who sought out his answers himself. It also helped that Keith lived on the mountain. He knew that place like the back of his hand. That was what was really getting to Lance about the entire ordeal. If Keith didn’t find the bones, then those bones weren’t meant to be found, and when things aren’t meant to be found, they’re hidden. Hidden bones don’t occur naturally, especially not in a small town like Lionsville.
The thing about small towns was that everyone knew everyone else. That was just how it was. Even if you wanted things to be secret, it was extremely difficult when you were around the nosiest people in the entire state. And it wasn’t that they were purposefully nosey. It wasn’t that all the snoopy people automatically decided to live there, it was a much simpler reasoning than that. Boredom made people creative. In a place where nothing happened, people made their own entertainment and their own drama, and if that meant becoming a gossip who took what they could get, then so be it. If you went to the store, you could be damn sure that every single person in that store knew every gritty detail of your life. They probably knew things that you didn’t even know about your own life. In the kindest way, of course. Well, mostly the kindest…
In a small town, everyone was always waiting. Mostly for things to happen. Nothing ever happened. Everyone always wanted something to happen. Even Lance, for as bright and excitable as he was, couldn’t help but find himself hoping something would happen, anything at all, just some event that would shake up Lance’s little snow globe of a world. This, however, was never what he meant when he wished for such an event.
Murder. Was that what they were dealing with? Who could have done that? There was no way someone could just be a murderer without everyone knowing about it, but at the same time, Lance couldn’t help but think that everyone could have done it. Whatever the motive, there was no better place to hide than in a town of people who would all never think the worst of you.
Because the thing about small towns was that everyone knew everyone else. At least, they thought they did. You could watch a person grow up from diapers all the way to adulthood and never truly know a damn thing about them. When people’s nosiness got the better of them, important secrets got shoved underground, and in a town of constant nosiness, it was only a matter of time before something was found in the dirt. It just so happened that that something was a pile of bones.
A shiver ran down Lance’s spine, like a spider scuttling along his skin. The prickling of his skin returned at full force. Lance couldn’t suppress the chills that wracked his body and dug their way into his brain. His vision blurred and went white for a moment, then returned. That was the feeling that had been chasing him all morning, and finally it had properly caught him. It was the bones, of course.
“Are you alright?” Keith asked.
Lance heavily blinked, then again. He willed his eyes away from the ground to meet Keith’s again. There was clear concern there as he watched Lance struggle to will the feeling away. “Fine…” he assured. His voice wasn’t entirely trustworthy.
Keith squinted at him. His eyes shifted over Lance’s form. There was a twitch in his hands that he couldn’t seem to satiate. Rather, he chose to run his nails along each other and underneath each other, anything to occupy the itch that had overtaken him. Keith only did that when he wanted to help and wasn’t sure how. Lance could almost feel Keith’s worry, palpable in the air, and it wasn’t making the feeling any better.
“I shouldn’t have told you about the bones,” Keith mumbled, turning his head away.
“No, I needed to know,” Lance blurted out. “I mean, I need to know. I’m okay, that’s what I’m saying.”
Keith was just glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. “I’ll investigate it,” he decided, as if he hadn’t heard Lance’s words.
“What? No, no, no. That’s not what I said to do.” Lance furrowed his eyebrows. “Don’t just go running into a crime scene, Keith.”
“I’ll be careful; the police won’t even know I’m there.”
Lance raised a hand to point at Keith in an attempt to get his words through Keith’s head. “That’s not the problem.”
“Then what?” Keith huffed.
Lance shuffled his feet and stood up straighter. Why did Keith always have to fight him? “What if you get hurt?” he suggested.
With a click of the tongue, Keith removed his fingers from where they had entangled amongst themselves and crossed his arms over his chest assertively and defensively. His back straightened, putting even more height between him and Lance. When Keith wasn’t seated on a fence post, he would never have had any height over Lance, and they both knew it. “I said I’d be careful.”
Lance narrowed his eyes further and swallowed thickly. “What if you find out something you didn’t really want to know?” he hissed. Keith looked taken aback, yet still defensive. “What if that something changes everything…”
“There are bones on that mountain, Lance. I live on that mountain. You live near that mountain. Everything has already changed,” Keith argued back in a low tone.
Lance was about to say something back to him when his attention was yanked away. From down the street, he could hear someone calling to him. “Lance! Lance, hurry up, or we’ll leave without you!” a younger girl shouted. Her hair glowed as the beating sun washed over it. The shine really highlighted just how much her hairstyle looked like she had rubbed a towel from the base of her neck to her forehead after getting out of the shower and called it good. Pidge, tech genius extraordinaire and hater of the outdoors. Lance couldn’t help but internally sigh in relief at the thought that she probably didn’t know about the bones. As nosy as she was – and she was nosy, even for the people in this town – there was no way she’d be on top of the happenings on the mountain. She hated that mountain and had only been up there the one time Lance had taken her to carve their names into mangled-looking trees.
“Yeah, man, we can’t wait forever!” the taller boy next to the girl called. He tugged on the bandana around his forehead and squinted down the dirt path in an attempt to see properly. Hunk, a teddy bear of a guy with a heart of gold. As smart as he was and as intuitive as he was, that didn’t mean he took conflict well, and bones on a mountain sure as hell meant some sort of conflict. Lance was assured that Hunk wasn’t already looking nervous because that meant that he didn’t know either.
Only Keith and the police seemed to know. That was good. Lance could keep this under wraps until the police couldn’t keep it secret anymore, and by then, Keith maybe would have figured something out. There was no reason to panic just yet, just like there was no reason to start a panic just yet. So, with one last lingering stare at Keith, who was still propped up on the fence post and watching Lance with something akin to concern, Lance nodded. It was a quick, almost unnoticeable nod that was meant just for Keith. If Keith was looking hard enough, he’d find the plea in Lance’s eyes that he remain safe and not investigate any crime scenes.
Keith wouldn’t listen though. He never did. His eyes softened at Lance anyway though, as if he were telling Lance that.
Then, Lance breathed in a huge gust of air and puffed out his chest. He forced a smile onto his face, although it wasn’t so hard when his friends were so cheerful. Even when he was worried, just the sight of them smiling was enough to make him feel at least hopeful. “If you think you can get away from these leggies then you’re in for a rude awakening!” he challenged. With that, Lance practically lunged down the road after his friends, who laughed hysterically and attempted to run away, but they were indeed in for a rude awakening. No one outran Lance’s leggies.