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Chapter Text

K E I T H 

Saturday August 24   

1:34 am 

Keith's earphones blared in his ears, with the world passing by him in a blur.  His eyes slowly drifted open, still heavy with sleep.  

The low rumble of  the cars engine lulled him in and out of sleep for the 3 day road trip.  The drive from LA to Chicago was draining on him and Shiro.  Shiro had to switch universities and Keith had come with him.  Not that he'd dragged him, since Keith was starting at the same university.  

Shiro was fine with it, since he'd got accepted to the university there and he was beyond ecstatic. So was Keith.  He'd always be happy for his brother.  And anything to get him to stop ranting about how much he hated his old university back home.   He hadn't stopped talking about getting accepted to Altea University for a month,  and even though Keith got accepted as well, he was having a harder time with the move than Shiro and Krolia both expected.

He was having a a harder time than even he expected.  

He'd been excited. Very.  He hadn't seen his old friends in forever.  Well, it had been 2 years, with constant messages and face times but it wasn't real.  Seeing Pidge's round glasses glare on the screen were a reminder that it wasn't real.  Face to face interaction wouldn't let him see himself in the glare from the computer in her glasses.  Seeing Matt's hair grow longer every day wasn't as real as seeing it in person.  So moving closer to them would've have been an easier, he should have been happier.

It just felt like he was constantly moving, and never having a solid place to ground his feet.  Like he was swimming, constantly swimming and every so often coming up for air.  But only for so long, before drowning again, moving again, not enough air in his lungs.  Never enough air going in, never staying in a place long enough.

He moved around in his chair, and Shiro looked at him for a second, "Hello, sleeping beauty."

Keith glared, "It's too early for your shit, Takashi."

"It's 1 am, Kogane,"  Shiro laughed. And it was. The street lights outside the car were on, and the high rise buildings in the distance were shining.

"Ugh, this whole trip fucking with my sleep schedule dude.  How am I gonna go to school next week?" Keith grumbled, and squirmed in his seat under his fortress of blankets and pillows.

"You'll be fine.  You don't even sleep anyways." Shiro said.

"How long have I been asleep?  My legs are starting to seize up." Keith stretched out his legs out, raising his arms over his head and scrunching up his face.

Shiro's eyes landed on the clock on the console, "Just over 2 hours."

"Merge into exit 408 in 2 miles.  Exit is approaching on your right." The GPS cut in, and Shiro put his indicator on, turning into the right hand lane.

"Get the chips from the back, would you?" Keith reached over and rummaged through the back seat, sifting through extra sweaters, suitcases, fast food wrappers, and plastic bags from pit stops at gas stations to get snacks. 

"Thanks," Shiro took the bag of chips from Keith's hand and they both ate in silence from the shared bag of Hot Cheetos, until the 408 came into view. He turned the steering wheel and his shoulder cracked.  Keith wondered if he had been driving the whole day or if they stopped for a bit while he was asleep.

Shiro yawned, and when he looked over at Shiro, he could see the bags under his eyes, and the stain of coffee on his shirt and  realized that Shiro had most definitely been driving the whole day.  And the whole night. Of course he would.

"Pull over, we'll switch.  You need to sleep," Keith spoke.  Shiro side eyed him, and continued eating the chips.

"It's fine, we've only got 2 more hours. I'm not even tire - " Another yawn filled the car

"You're falling asleep at the wheel.  I'd like to stay alive, please, so pull over.  I'm driving." Keith insisted, taking his headphones

"Fine.  But I'm not even tired." He pulled over, and they switched seats.

"Whatever you say, Takashi." He pulled back onto the rode, and they drove towards the the sign over head read 'Los Angles - 200 Miles'

"You think you'll be okay while I'm gone?" Shiro said softly after a few minutes, head against the back of the chair, turned to face Keith. 

"I'm not a kid anymore, I'll be okay Takashi." He said softly, not taking his eyes off the road.  

"I know. But your still a kid to me. Always gonna have me." He yawned a third time and Keith laughed under his breath, "Take care of yourself, Keith."

"Alright, Dad." Keith laughed heartily.  

"Did you wanna play music?" Keith spoke into the darkness moments later.  No answer, "Shiro?"

Keith glanced over to the side, and saw a knocked out Shiro in the passenger seat, snoring softly.  His white bangs fell over messily, grazing his eye lids.  His breathe made fog on the window, and the blankets were pulled up to his chin.  The blurring lights falling on face, the red and yellow and oranges of the street lights making the scar across his nose sharper than it was.

Keith chuckled.  Damn, he was really tired .  

He played his music, singing softly to a song from his phone.   The roads around him continued to blur, everything warping as he sped down the freeway.  

The time flew by, with each song merging into another.  He hadn't even realized how much time had passed, when they finally on a street lined with apartment complexes.

"Your destination is approaching on the right." The GPS spoke, and his heart plummeted to his stomach

Another day.  Another change.  

Noting he wasn't used to.

Chapter Text

Ok so this is not a chapter. its an authors update. sorry if i got you excited. but yeahhhhh sorry about that but i need to say a few things before i start uploading this book. and ill probably delete this update once i start posting chapters.

Okay so im really stupid and i started writing this book right when final exams started, so i wont be able to actually really work on it until February roles around. Sorry for that. I promise I'll try and get something posted in February. i dont have an uploading schedule down yet, but if i continue writing this book well into the summer, than i might make an actual uploading schedule. who knows??

chapters are going to be pretty long, maybe like something around 7k words each, at most, so it'll take a bit long to get them up, and work on them between work and school and my life. so yeah

also, i really dont mean to start any drama with this book. like, its gonna touch on a few subjects, that might be triggering, and there WILL be warnings at the end of the chapter indicating if there are any triggers in the next chapter, as well as trigger warnings at the beginning of the chapter, AS WELL AS at the beginning of where the trigger warning may apply. I will summarize the scene in less detail at the end of said chapter, in the notes.

also, i really dont mean to offend any one with what im writing at all. its for entertainment purposes, and if you honestly find something in here that offends you, i promise it is 150% by accident. It was not intended. i hate any forms of hate, and i can guarantee i am not writing this book to promote or spread hate about anything.

and lastly, please dont leave nasty comments. whether it be about wanting updates, or about my writing skills, or about the story and plot itself, hate comments are not gonna be tolerated and im just gonna delete them, simple as that. and honestly, if you dont like my writing, why are you reading it to begin with?????

so yeah, basically, chapters will be slow, im really not trying to be mean, so im sorry if what i write offends you, and please dont be mean. thats all i really have to say honestly.

so yeah, i'll be writing for know, so see you soon hopefully xo

Chapter Text

K  E  I  T H

Saturday August 31

 7:07 am

With cool, artificial brightness fanning his face, Keith woke up drenched in sunlight.

Not exactly. More like a light switch being flicked on, too bright fluorescent lights flooding the room. His eyelids turned orange, the light source directly behind them He groaned as the light flicked on and off. On. Off. On. Off.

He pulled the sheets closer to his chin, mumbling sentences that didn’t even make sense to himself. He’d just ignore it, the light flickering, until he left Keith alone and let him sleep in peace. He hoped.

Then the blankets started to shift, being pulled slightly off of his leg.

“Ugh, okay, fine, I’m up now, what do you want from me.” He grumbled into his pillow.

He knew it was Shiro, just, being Shiro. Again. Waking him up at such an ungodly hour - again - , by flicking the light switch on and off.  Then by proceeding to open and close the crappy curtains they got from Walmart the day before, to unpack all his boxes. He looked at his phone to check the time and groaned.

He had like, five boxes.  Maybe seven. He’d be done in an hour, two tops.  He’d been putting it off for a week, sure. But he’d do it today.  Today, but not now. Later. Not   at seven o’clock in the fucking morning.  

“I don’t want anything.  I need you to get up, and unpack.  We’ve been here for almost a week and you haven’t touched your boxes, and classes start after tomorrow.” Shiro said, finally pulling the sheets off the mattress.  

His body blocked the sun coming from the window across the room, and when he moved away with the sheet, the cold air in the apartment from the AC washed over his legs.  Shiro stepped over him, and sat on the other side of Keith’s mattress on the floor. They’d bought basic bed frames back home, and Krolia said she would ship it to them, but they hadn’t come in yet, so he’d had to make due.

“It’s seven am, Takashi.  On a Saturday. I don’t have time for your shit,” Keith grumbled, curling in on himself, “And besides, I have opened my boxes.” A truth.  Not a whole truth, but that still counted, right?

“Opening one box to take out a new shirt like, twice, since we got here doesn’t count Keith.” Shiro reprimanded, and Keith didn’t need to open his eyes to hear the smirk in his voice.

“Okay, I’ll do it.  But I’ll do it later, ‘cause its seven fucking am Shiro, not everyone is as eerily excited about the crack of dawn as you.” He finally opened his eyes, glaring at Shiro with sleep-heavy lids.

Shiro laughed at that, “Not my fault you like to sleep away your entire existence,” He kicked at Keith’s shin as he got up, with Keith expecting the bed to dip back with the lack of weight but then it doesn't and he remembers he doesn't even have a bed frame so it isn't going to dip, because their stupid IKEA beds hadn’t come in yet.  Good for nothing shipping companies, never being on time, “I’m coming back to get you in ten minutes. With a glass of water. Cold.”

“You wouldn’t.” Keith half sat up, propped on his elbow, facing Shiro

“Guess we’ll find out in ten minutes.”

He closed the door before Keith could get out a retort, and Keith just groaned, flopping in his bed.  

Shiro’s laugh behind the door sounds fainter as the floorboards creak on his way out of his room.

He might as well get up now, he supposed.  He was fully awake anyway. And Shiro pouring a cup of water on him if he fell asleep again wasn’t as appealing as it sounded.

He stretched out his limbs, and made his way out of bed.  An incoherent string of curses fell from his lips as he reached to grab a shirt out of the box.  He stared at it for a bit, going back on what Shiro said about only opening the box to grab a shirt.   Stupid Shiro for always being right, it’s not even natural.  He grabbed a pair of sweatpants instead, because if Shiro gets to wake him up, he doesn't have the power to make him get dressed.  Neither is he going to give him the satisfaction of being right about something else. Again.

The floor was freezing under his feet, despite the August warmth.  It sent shivers up his legs to his shoulders as he walked into the hallway of the new apartment.  It was still new to him. He wasn’t used to the layout of the place, not like he was back home. Back home he could walk around with his eyes closed.  He wasn’t bothered though. He’d just have to make due.

The bathroom floor was no different, cold under his feet, if not colder.  Keith grumbled a comment under his breath as Shiro passed by him and patted his bare shoulder.  He closed the window that Shiro had no doubt opened earlier, starting on brushing his teeth roughly, and his hair even more.  He’d spent the night tossing and turning, never comfortable, and now his hair paid the price. He knew he should tied it, but he was too tired to care.   Future Keith’s problem , he’d thought.  Well, Present Keith was pissed at Past Keith.  Also at Present Shiro for waking him up at seven am on a fucking Saturday. All this being-pissed-off was not helping his bed head, and he sighed as he tried not to literally rip the hair out of his follicles.

Mop of hair brushed and mouth not tasting gross anymore, he trudged out to the kitchen.  The apartment wasn’t the biggest, but it certainly was bigger than most.

The living room was big, with a glass wall, and a balcony behind a sliding glass door.  There was a door in Keiths room that connected to the balcony too. Shiro didn’t even fight Keith when he promptly flung his bag on the floor the second he found out that room had the balcony - he knew Keith would’ve fought him for it. And Shiro didn’t mind that much either. Although they weren’t that high up, it was only the tenth floor, Shiro wasn’t too fond of heights.  So a smaller window instead of a glass door reminding him just how high up they were was all he could ask for.

There was only one bathroom, though.  Keith could manage. He’d shard one with Shiro back home, this wouldn’t be any different.  Spacious, a full bath and shower. A long mirror. Tiled flooring. Pale blue and white aesthetic, the lights being a little bit too bright, but he didn’t mind.  Helps him wake up when he needs to.

The bedrooms where situated on either side of the bathroom .  Keith's first then Shiro’s . And since they were at the end of the hall in the complex, they’d gotten a corner apartment.  

They had a pretty decent kitchen as well, with an island and barstool chairs and everything.  

Well, there would be barstools around the island, and an actual dishwasher in the spot by the edge of the counter, and an actual astove, if the shipping company got their shit together and sent their furniture.  The apartment had been eerily empty with just mattresses in each room, and the living room stacked with boxes instead of actual furniture.

He sat himself on a box, one that was not labeled fragile.  His head slumped forward, hair falling down his face, tickling the exposed skin on his back..  He was not looking forward to Shiro telling him to open his boxes again after today, so he’d have to get it done.  And besides, the semester started the day after tomorrow. He’d have to do it anyway.

“He got you too?” A voice, rough with sleep, said from behind him. He smirked, as he heard the sleep driven shuffle of slippers on the hardwood floor.

“Yeah. Got you too it seems.” Keith said, finally looking up.  Adam looked over at him with sleep heavy eyes.

“Why is he so hellbent on waking up before the sun every single morning?” Adam sighed, grabbing the box of Eggo waffles from the freezer.  He held it up and Keith held up two fingers. Adam took out four and put them in the four slot toaster. A gift from Krolia before they left.

-

“I just know you boys are going to fight over who gets breakfast first.  Here, take it.”

“Krolia, we don’t need this.  Keep it-”

“Hush.  Take it.  I will not have you two fighting over who gets to toast a stupid piece of bread the whole way through college,” Krolia sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, “Ugh, just thinking about it gives me a headache.  Take it, Shiro, or so help me god-”

“Okay, okay, we’ll take the toaster.  Thank you.”

-

He’d slept over the night before to help Shiro unpack.  Well, that’s what he’d said he was over for. All three of them knew he was here to be with Shiro.  Long distance relationships were always hard, and Shiro and Adam were no exception. They’d been dating since high school, senior year, so that had been - 5 years?  

There had been a break up halfway through, though.  A break, not even anything remotely close to a mutual decision to go on a break, because they both complained about it to Keith.  Adam called him to wallow in his misery of sentences consisting of “Ugh, I miss him so much, Keith. Why would I even say that we should take a break?  I’m so stupid. Keith, does he even talk about me?”.

Shiro talked about it less frequently to Keith, but when he did, he did so more insistently.  “Keith, I know he calls you. Does he say anything about me? Please, tell me he does. Ugh, why did we even think a break was a good idea?”

Both of them thought the other had wanted it.  Had wanted time to focus on themselves. Both of them being stupidly wrong.  Both of them thinking a break would be best because of stress and long distance and whatever else made them take a break.  Neither of them really wanted it, but only did it because they thought the other needed it. And they would do anything for eachother.  It was sweet, Keith thought then. Sweet but stupid. Make yourself hurt for what you thought the person you loved wanted. Sweet but stupid.

 Adam had flown out to see Shiro, a month and a half  into the break, because Shiro had drunk called him. That was enough to break him.  He booked a flight to LA, from Chicago, and only told Keith that he was in the city, once he landed.  Krolia had driven down to pick him from the airport. Keith was in charge of keeping Shiro preoccupied until Adam got to the house.  

Adam come into the house the moment Shiro started complaining about the break again.  And when Adam had heard Shiro say he hated the break never wanted it to begin with, only did agreed to it because Adam wanted it, he stepped out from where he stood in the foreir.

“I never wanted it, you dipshit.”  Adam said, and Shiro froze in place.   He turned around slowly, and Keith found himself smiling, watching it unfold in front of him.  Shiros face falling, then he smiled, the brightest he’d ever seen Shiro smile.

Then he started tearing up.  That’s when Adam moved across the living room.  Turned to Shiro, strides across the floor purposeful, and filled with love and emotion, as if that were even possible.  Steps filled with the distance between them and the longing they both had for each other and the love they had for each other that was projected in the way they looked at eachother.

“I missed you.” Shiro’s voice cracked.

“I missed you too,” Adam said, his hands coming around Shiro’s wrists, “ God, I missed you. So much.”

And when he said that, Shiro broke.  They both broke, and hugged and cried and laughed and fell to their knees with their heads pressed to the others shoulder and Keith felt tight in the chest as Krolia placed a hand on his shoulder, a small smile gracing her face as well.  And they both left, feeling like they were invading a private moment.

“Well he’s your boyfriend, and he never did that before you.  It’s your own fault.” Keith smirked.

“Yeah well that was before I figured out how much of a blessing sleep was when your a college student.” He grumbled before downing the glass of water he poured for himself.

He looked worse than Keith, with his hair - which had grown last since Keith had seen him, another thing that made Keith remember he was away from the people he was close to for far too long - was disheveled, flat against one side from sleep.  He hadn’t even put his glasses on and the bags under his eyes were more visible. His shirt - soft dark gray with NASA across the front in a fading font, from how old it was - a few sizes too big, considering it was Shiro’s. Pyjama bottoms too long for his legs, scrunched up against his Bart Simpson slipper, the red and blue and black stripes making the yellow of Bart’s face way too bright.

Adam yawned as he started a pot of coffee.  As tired as Adam looked, it reminded Keith that he was here.  With the people he cared about. Not talking to them through a screen that screwed up their face with pixelated of them because of sketchy college dorm wifi.  He had seen Pidge and Matt the first day they got into Chicago, and he’d felt better. Hugged them and forced himself not to tear up, because they would never let him hear the end of it.  He was happy. For the first time in a long while.

“Good, you’re both up.” Shiro’s voice entered the kitchen.  They looked over at him, and gaped at how awake he looked.

Well, Keith did. Adam was probably gaping for different reasons, that Keith did not want to think about his brother in.  

He had on a tank top - way too tight, for no reason, other than that his boyfriend was here - dark gray sweatpants, and an honest to god neon pink and black striped headband in his hair, a stark contrast to the white bangs that it held from his face.

“No thanks to you,” Keith grumbled.  The toaster popped up and Keith reluctantly stomped over to it, throwing them on a plate and taking the syrup Adam handed to him absentmindedly, drenching his waffles.

Shiro sat on the floor - because they had no furniture - cross legged, against the box Keith was sitting on before..  “How do you guys eat that stuff. It’s just sugar.”

“Some of us like sugar, Shiro,” Adam quipped, hopping up on the island to sit and wait for his coffee, “Just like how some us actually enjoy letting the sun get up before we do.”

Shiro laughed, “I went out for a run. I let you guys sleep for another 2 hours after I got up.”

“How are you guys even brothers?’ Adam directed at Keith, around a piece of waffle,  as he stuffed a piece of his own waffle into his mouth.

“How are you guys even dating,” He countered, voice monotone, but his eyes were crinkling at the sides.  He liked how happy Shiro got around Adam. He deserved to be happy after everything that’s happened to them.

Not that he’d say that aloud.  He’d never hear the end of it.

“He’s lucky he’s cute,” Adam said, grabbing 3 mugs from the cupboard, pouring their coffee, and Shiro’s cheeks went pink.  It still amazed Keith, how even after dating for so long, his brother still got flustered over the smallest of compliments.

“Yeah, whatever.  Go sleep the rest of your youth away I don’t care.” Shiro teased, and Adam handed him his mug of coffee.  He kissed Shiro’s head, and Shiro’s face went redder as he smiled.

They all sat around for a bit, Adam beside Shiro on the floor and Keith on the island, eating waffles drinking coffee, and talking about school starting and Adam’s new job, and Shiro’s new classes, as well as Keith starting classes as well.  Keith missed this. The familiarity of it all. He missed it.

“‘Kay, as much as I love talking with you both about school at seven in the morning on  saturday, I need to take a shower.” Adam got up from the floor, cracking his back, “When is your furniture supposed to come in?”

“It was supposed to come in two days ago.  They said it’d be another like, 3 days at most.” Shiro said, getting up too, and putting both their mugs in the sink.”

“Okay, yeah.  Well, off to shower I guess.”  And he left down the hall. Shiro and Keith talked a bit more while he showered, about Krolia saying she was going to visit in a few weeks, about Matt and his new girlfriend, and when their schedules had open spots at the same time.

“Alright.  I need to go get some wifi and whatever,” Keith said, dropping his plate in the sink, as Adam turned off the shower, “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“You have to finish unpacking today,” Shiro said, as he walked off to his room, to change.

“Yeah, I’ve got the rest of the day.  It’ll be unpacked don’t worry.”

“Alright,” Shiro said, as keith closed the door to his bedroom.   Keith chuckled at Shiro’s voice muffled behind the door as he said, “How do I always get stuck on dish duty?”

He changed into a black t-shirt and a pair of black ripped jeans.  The flannel he’d worn around his waist was red and black plaid, and he grabbed his olive green messenger bag, covered in pins and patchwork and doodles.  His laptop and charger were stuffed inside, as well as his sketchbook and pencils. Never left anywhere without it.

Phone in hand, he left his room, and walked to the front door. He passed Adam walking out of the bathroom, with his head wrapped a towel, one around his waist, glasses slightly fogged from the steam.

“Is that even necessary?  You don’t even have that much hair to dry?” Keith questioned, grabbing an apple from the fridge.

“Don’t hate on my routine because you don’t care about your own hair, kiddo,” Adam said, over dramatically ruffling Keith’s hair.  He swatted his hand away, walking out the door, with Shiro and Adam laughing behind him. He called over his shoulder, “ Call me if you need me to pick anything up.”

“Yeah, sure.” Shiro said, and Keith grabbed his red leather jacket and stuffed his feet into his black and red checkered vans.

“Be careful,” Shiro called and Keith locked the front door.

And he left the apartment.  With his bike helmet under his arm, he rode the elevator down. He went passed the front lobby.  The swivel doors were occupied by someone holding a bunch of boxes, so he took the side door.

He fiddled with his keys, looking for the one to his bikes lock. He didn’t notice the person walking towards him, boxes covering his face.  Not until they crashed into each other.

“Oh my god, shit. Shit, shit, no. No, oh my god,” The strangers rambled, grasping at the boxes that started teetering to the side, dangerously close to falling over.  Keith threw his hands out to stabilize them, his hand coming over the other guys hand.

“Shit, sorry, I didn’t see you.” He said to Keith.  He poked his head around the boxes, and smiled at Keith.  

“Yeah, I can see that,” Keith said, taking his hands off the boxes after making sure they weren’t gonna fall, and smiled slightly, “Sorry about bumping into you.  Wasn’t watching where I was going either.”

“No worries, thanks.” He smiled and moved out of the way for Keith to get through.  He waved and the boy stuck out two fingers as a salute, and went into the building, talking to the guy who went in through the swivel doors.

Keith got his keys out and unlocked his bike chain from the back of the complex.  He stuffed his messenger bag in the compartment in his motorcycle, and texted Pidge to say he was leaving to go the the coffee shop they’d agreed to meet up at the night before.  

Keef Ko(gay)ne

• i’ll be there in like, 20 minutes
• u better be there

Pidge(on)

• don’t tell me your awake
• already
• keith its 8 am
• im not leaving my house this early 

Keef Ko(gay)ne

• ill give you like 10 minutes after i get there
• then im leaving
• its not even my fault
• u knoww shiro has like this competition with the sun to see who can get up earlier

Pidge(on)

• asdfghjnbgfd
• lmfaoooo yeah, hes probably winning too
• uuuuuuugh fine
• 20*

Keef Ko(gay)ne

• whatever
• just be there
• and katie i swear to god
• if its some basic bitch coffee house that’s got watered down shit im gonna kill u

Pidge(on)

• ur lack of faith in me is wounding
• ull be surprised.
• u wont be mad trust me

He pocketed his phone, sighing and zipped the pocket of the leather jacket he wore.  Extra precautions. He’d broken his last phone that way. His bank account was not happy about it.  He pulled his hair out of his face and tied it in a low ponytail, tugging his helmet on. The bike revved, and the low rumble of the engine was enough to set him into a familiar rhythm.  Kick up the stand, put his leather gloves on, twist the handle bars, speed out the parking lot.

The wind got stuck in his jacket, and sent a welcomed breeze up his shirt.  It helped his mind relax, the familiar feeling of his jacket wiping behind him as the wind rushed through it.  He loved the feeling. The familiarity. It was always something he could rely on. Something to ground him, when everything got too much for him.  He’d grab his helmet, and just drive. Back in Texas, he’d drive for hours down the dusty trains behind his parents house. Even though he hadn’t had a motorcycle then, and he was a child, he’d ride his bicycle for hours and hours in their backyard until his mom would call him in for dinner.

Then when his dad died from a firefighter accident when he was 10.  He ran into a building, when everyone had told him not to go. He hadn’t listened.  He was a Kogane, never backing down from a challenge. His mom packed them up and left right after the funeral.  She said it was to get a new start, make a life for them somewhere else. So texas would always be in their memories, but only the good ones.

Even then, he knew she just wanted to escape.  Escape from the freshest memories, not the countless others where his father was present.

So they packed up, and moved.  To LA. It had been impulsive. She’d applied for a position at the art gallery in the city, never really thinking she’d get called back.  When she did, he remembered her being over the moon.

He’d gotten there, and always rode his bike around the neighborhood.  To and from school. To the corner store. To hockey practice. That had been hard, for an 11 year old to go to practice with all his equipment on his back, and keep control of a bike.  Krolia drove him every day after she found him in his room, bandaging a scraped knee. 

And while they were there, she met her future husband.  They hadn’t gotten along with each other at first. Both insanely competitive, but never failing to compliment the other on their pieces.  Friendly competition. They started hanging out, they started dating, the had their children meet at bring your kid to work day, and Shiro had taken a shining to Keith, and the two found out they were going to the same school. Even when they weren’t technically step siblings yet, he had always looked up to Shiro, from the second they met.  So when, 4 years later, their parents got married, Keith was ecstatic. He was going to have a family again. He rode his bike, but not to escape anything. Because he liked his life now. Enjoyed waking up, having breakfast with his mom and her fiance, and fighting over who got to use the bathroom first with his too be step brother.

Everything was great.  The wedding was sickeningly sweet. His mom looked beautiful in her dress.  Shiro’s dad cried. Shiro teared up, his friend Matt sat beside him, also beaming with happiness.  Matt’s younger sister, Katie, who insisted on being called Pidge - “What kind of name is Pidge?” 11 year old Keith had asked the 8 year old Pidge.  “It’s my name. Matt gave it to me. Better than a boring name like Keef,” She said, a tooth missing from the corner of her mouth” - sat beside Keith, smiling up at them, glasses way too big for her face.

Everything was great.  They were a family. Went on vacations.  Shiro was the best big brother he could’ve asked for, and Shiro’s dad was really nice to him, and although he wasn’t like his own dad, Keith accepted him really quickly.

Everything was fine, until 3 years ago.

Keith shook his head.  He didn’t want to go back there.  It was a new beginning, Shiro had said on the way up to Chicago.  A fresh start. Away from all the messiness of their past. Not that they were trying to escape when the opportunity arose, but they certainly did not turn it down.  

He arrived at the coffee shop ten minutes after texting Pidge.  He parked the bike across the street from the cafe, killing the engine. He stepped off the bike, and took his helmet off, shaking out his hair from the loose ponytail it was in.  Grabbing his bag from the compartment in his motorcycle, he stared up at the sign for the cafe

When Pidge had told him to go to the Lion’s Cafe , saying it was the “the best coffee shop near campus”, what he was met with certainly wasn’t at all how he’d pictured it.  Glass walls outlined the cafe, and even with the glare from the sun, he could see the many potted plants hanging from the ceiling against the glass. The sign was bold, each letter looping and connecting with another, in a gold cursive font.  A blue coffee cup with gold swirls of steam was put in place of the tittle for the letter “i”.

Inside was no less intriguing.  The counter was old, rustic, worn.  Full of character. A glass display case for the pastries was tall, chest height, gold accents around the rims. Chalk boards hung over the wall behind the counter, the menu in swirly, colorful, cursive writing.  Doodle’s of coffee cups and pastries adorned the corners of the boards.

The walls on either side were brick, colors ranging in warm tones, browns, dark burgundy, black, beige, with white cement between each block.  Scattered art work lined the walls, white floating shelves a sharp contrast, each adorned in small potted plants. On the wall opposite from the front door, there was a large, floor-to-ceiling  length mirror. The tables were made to look like the ring of a tree, with metallic seats on either side of them.

What really stood out to him was room and  wall on the far end of the cafe. Through the arch way, hung a curtain of beads.  Inside, two couches with a mismatch of throw pillows sat on each side of the small room at the end of the cafe.  There were a few tables behind the couches, still the same design as the seating area in the front. But the walls, the wall’s of the back room were what caught his attention.

The walls of the room were covered in books.  Head to toe. All books, crammed into the shelves, books piled into the corners of the room, books piled on the corner tables on either side of either couch.  He ran his hands along the books on the shelf. So many different books. Fiction, non-fiction, old, new, big, small, paperback, hardcover. There were so many.  He looked up at the lights on the ceiling- Faerie lights hung along the ceiling, in a mismatch pattern.

It looked like something straight out of a movie.  Or a book, whatever. Definitely something fictional.  It didn’t look real.

And it was this close to campus?

Keith new exactly where he would be hanging out between classes now.

He sat down on the couch, and opened his laptop, connecting to the cafe’s wifi.  He’d been there for a little over another the minutes when Pidge came through the door.

Keith stifled a laugh, a grin plastering against his face.  Pidge looked...the same. The same as always. Tired, bags under her eyes.   She had on her favorite green pullover, with an awkward collar that sat somewhere on the line between crew neck and turtleneck - and honestly, it was 80 degrees, he didn’t understand how she wore long sleeves all the time and hadn’t passed out from heat stroke yet.  She had on cargo pants, probably Matt’s, probably something she grabbed from the laundry. Her backpack hung off of one shoulder, as she ordered something from the cash.

“Hey,” He said, when she sat down.  More like collapsed, into the spot opposite from him on the couch.

“Why did you make me come here so early?” She groaned, arm over her eyes, head thrown against the back of the couch.  

“Blame Shiro,” He grumbled, and turned back to his computer, tabs upon tabs of job applications open.

Pidge sat up more, turning over to face him, grinning, while taking her laptop out of her bag, “So, how’re you liking the Lion?”

“It’s cool.  Not what I expected,” Keith said, not taking his eyes off his screen.  It was more than cool, way better than cool. It was probably going to be his new favorite place, but he’d never let Pidge know that.  

“Oh come on.  It’s great. And I literally work here dude, you have to give it some credit,” She said, starting up the computer.

Keith turned his head, “You work here?  You said you worked at a -”

“At a coffee shop? Yeah, this one,” She grinned.

“It’s cool.  Aesthetic. Might draw it or something.”

“Must be pretty great for Keith Kogane to draw it, huh.”

He smiled softly, “Must be.”

And they sat in silence for a while, with Keith’s eyes scanning for applications, and sending resume’s and sending emails to Kijiji ad’s, and Pidge’s steady typing filling the silence.  Her coffee came a few minutes after - worker came over and passed it to her, and Pidge later told him her name was Ezor - and the silence washed over them again.

It was nice.  He missed this.  The comfortable silence they could get into, enjoying each others presence.  It was familiar, and he treasured it, since he didn’t get too much familiarity in his life.  And he knew she understood, how he valued their friendship so much. Even if he didn’t express it in so many words.  She helped him, with grounding him, with being there for him, for pushing him out of his comfort zone.

Well, maybe he spoke too soon.

“Dude, there’s this party tonight. Some ex-frat boy or something. His parties are known campus wide, according to Matt.  Legendary stories,” Pidge said, as they were packing up to go back to go back to Keith’s place. He’d roped her into helping him unpack his last few boxes.

“Keith, I am not unpacking your boxes for you.  Haven’t you been here for like a whole week? Why haven’t you done it yet?”

“Didn’t it take you like, a month to finish unpacking your stuff when you moved here?” Keith countered, eyebrow raised, “I distinctly remember Colleen yelling at you through over |Skype to unpack.”

“I’m like, 5’2.  I can’t be expected to unpack everything so quick, when I can’t even reach the top shelf.”

“Whatever.  I’ll buy you McDonalds if you come over.”

“I am offended that you think I will cave that easily.”

“And a tub of mint chip.”

“Fine.”

“Okay, that’s cool.  I guess,” He said, looking skeptically at her grin that would’ve put the Cheshire cat to shame, “Why are you telling me this?”

“‘Cause you’re coming.” She said.  “And before you even say no, Shiro already knows.  And he said that you should go.”

“Shiro wants me to unpack my boxes.  Not go to a party.” He said exasperated.  He held the door open for her to pass, and they made their way to Keith’s motorcycle.

“Pidge no I swear this is really not my scene.”

“You’re the worst liar. I can not even count off how many times you snuck out to go to parties when I was in LA,” She glared, tightening the straps of the backpack, so it wouldn’t fall off while they drove. “And how many stories you’ve told me over Facetime.”

“Okay, fine.  But I don’t know.  I think I’m just gonna watch stuff.  Not feeling up to it.”

“You will be.  Don’t worry kiddo -”

“I’m literally 2 years older than you, but go off.”

“-We’re gonna unpack your stuff and make it all sparkly and pretty and then you’re gonna get ready to kill all the boys at the party,” She said, her grin falling from her face as he shoved the helmet into her arms, “Do I have to wear this?  It probably has like lice or something.”

“Do you want to bash your head in if you fall off?”

“You would never let me fall off,” She smirked, reluctantly   putting the helmet on, “You’re too much of a hero.”

Keith swung his leg over the bike, and kicked up the kick stand.  He started the motorcycle, and Pidge’s arms tightened around his waist.

“Debatable.” He said, over the  roar of the engine.

*************************************************************************

Saturday, August 31 12:09 am

K  E  I  T  H

He caved.

It wasn’t his fault.  Not when all of his friends are so menacing and mischievous and love to get him yo make bad decisions.

Pidge’s excuse was basic.  She just wanted someone else to go with her instead of her own brother.

Matt’s excuse was also basic. He wanted to go with someone who wasn’t his sister.

Shiro wasn’t even going. But he’d had an excuse. That he should get out of the house.  He needed to meet people. He couldn’t just stay in his room, eat, sleep, and go to class.

Adam didn't care.  He wasn’t even going either.

But he’d caved. All their puppy eyes, and it took him a bit, but he realised that it wouldn’t hurt to go. Even if he didn’t know who was there, he had Matt and Pidge.  And she said her friends were going too, so it wouldn’t be that bad. Right?

That’s how he ended up in the back of Matt’s car, at midnight, with Pidge upfront, still trying to figure out whether she should wear contacts of her glasses.

“You’re probably gonna fall asleep.  Wear the glasses,” Matt said, turning onto the street where the party was being held.

“Yeah but what if I break them?” She said, cleaning her lenses on her black tank top.  She’d swapped her cargo pants for black ripped jeans with frayed bottoms, and her black and green checkered vans.

“Better than fucking up your actual eyes,” Matt said, indicator blinking again as he turned.  He was in a black hooded t-shirt, some sort of japanese writing across the back in white, with pale blue ripped jeans, ripped in the knees, and basic black converse.

“True,” She had sighed, and reached over to put her contact case in the glove compartment. She twisted around in her seat to face Keith, “You ready dude?”

He hummed in response, his earphones still in his ears.

“You’re acting like you’ve never been to a party before?”

“Not a college party.  I didn’t even go top any last year.”

“All the more reason to get you out again. You’re missing out, college parties are so much better than high school.” Matt reassured him, cutting the engine.  “Okay, were here. Everyone out.”

Keith didn’t even know they reached the place.  His own music blocked out the music from outside the car, and when he took out his earphones, he heard just how loud it was. He pocketed his phone in his own ripped jeans, that were probably more ripped than Pidges.  His black t-shirt was tight, and his red flannel hung on his waist. His red vans were old. He got out of the car, and stared up at the house. It was pretty big. Really big. He stuffed his hands in his pockets as Pidge came around and looped her arm through his.  

“Lets knock ‘em dead, hotshot.” She grinned.  It took some of the edge off.

So he went inside.  He went inside, and the bass of the music was intense, but familiar.   Familiar , he thought. And that’s all it really took. He was sucked into the familiar rhythm of parties and the bodies all around and the bass of the music deep in his chest.  

He wasn’t your typical partier.  He went, drank, danced, but mostly he stayed on the sidelines.  It was fun, people watching. He watched the people slip in and out of the parties, watched who was a go-hard-partier, who was dating who, how the fights started.  Even if he did start some of them himself. Used to. That was behind him now.

But he promised himself and Shiro and his mom that he’d try and get over it.  Get his temper in check. So he stayed into the sidelines a bit more, stayed out of the way of jocks and the burly kids who looked like they came there only for a fight.

Half an hour after they split from Matt, Pidge and him were only slightly tipsy.  Well, maybe just him. Pidge was designated driver. So, he was the only tipsy one.  

He’d zoned out, and went to get another drink.  Water, since he did not want a hangover on the first day of class.  

When he came back, he found Pidge talking to two people.   Probably those friends she mentioned earlier , he thought.  He came closer, and he thought he recognized them. He had on a yellow shirt, olive green cargo shorts, similar to Pidge’s from earlier that day.  He had to strips of fabric coming from his head, in what he assumed was a headband. He was sure he recognized him, from earlier today, when he left the apartment.  The other guy was standing with his back to Keith, but he was sure he recognized him from somewhere? Maybe he was at the coffee shop this morning? He was tall, slender, tanned.  Had on a pale blue t-shirt and black jeans and white converse. Keith was sure he’d seen him somewhere.

Pidge noticed Keith coming closer, she waved him over, “Keith, over here.” He came over, and threw his arm over her head.  She huffed in annoyance and crossed her arms over her chest.

“So this is my friend I told you about, Keith,” Pidge said to the guy across from them.  “Keith this is Hunk,” She motioned to the guy wearing the headband.

“Hey, Keith,” He extended his hand. Keith shook it. “Aren’t you the guy Lance bumped into this morning?”

“Yeah,” Keith said, putting two and two together.   So that’s this guys name.

“Sorry about him.  Never watches where he’s going,” Hunk nudged his friend in the side.

“And this is Lance,” Pidge motioned to the other guy.   “Lance, this is Keith I’m pretty sure I mentioned him a few times.”

“Hi,” Keith said, extending out the hand that wasn’t on Pidge’s head.  Lance looked him over once, and held out his hand to meet Keith’s.

“Why, hello there,” He slurred, handshake sloppy.  Keith pulled his hand back, and moved his hair back out of his face.  Lance starred, mouth a gap, and Keith was getting slightly concerned for him.

“And yes, Pidge , you’ve mentioned him” Lance whined, voice slurring even more, “You talked about this guy for months, but what you did fail to mention was that he was hot .”

Keith went rigid, taken aback.  He knew he wasn’t exactly ugly. But hot?  Nobody’s ever said it outright.

“ Oh my god, Lance, will you just shut up ,” Pidge groaned, “I’ve known him since I was like, two.”

“All the more reason to ask why you haven’t mentioned how gorgeous he was earlier.”  He smirked, turning back to Keith, who’s face had turned bright red.

“Sorry about him,” Pidge grumbled, “He’s super flirty when he’s drunk.”

“Not even sorry,” Lance slurred out, “Well, I’m Lance.”

“So I’ve heard,” Keith said, smiling shyly, ruffling Pidges hair.  She grumbled something about getting something to drink, and dragged Hunk along behind her.

“I hope she’s said good things about me?” Lance said, his voice loud over the music blaring around them.  

“Mostly,” Keith laughed.  He took in the boy in front of him.  He was tall, like Keith had seen from afar, but now up close, he realized that Lance was a good half a head taller than him.  And really blue eyes. Even in the dim, flashing lights of the house, his eyes were really blue. And really white teeth. He was stunning under the strobe lights.

Keep it in your pants, buddy, He scolded himself.  He shook his head of the thought.

“Of course,” Lance smirked, pointing back towards the mass of bodies in dancing to the music, “Wanna go?”

Keith quirked up a brow, “Pretty forward.”

“It’s the booze, I promise,” He flashed his teeth at Keith again, and hiccuped.  Straight up, hiccuped .  Keith didn’t even know that was a thing that happened in real life when you got drunk, but it apparently was.  And it apparently didn’t faze Lance either, ‘cause he kept his hand held out for Keith to take. “C’mon, promise I don’t bite.” He said, voice low, but Keith could hear it all the same, “Besides, you look like you need it.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“Don’t need to.”

His face flushed red, heat crawling up his neck, “Fine.”

He smiled at Keith, and took hold of his wrist.  They made their way to the group of people dancing to the music.

And they danced.  For what felt like a long time.  It was probably 15 minutes, both of them swaying to the music in the dark room.  It was fun, the most fun he’d had in a while. They drank shots from a tray some girl held, who weaved her way through the crowd like an expert , handing them out.  The same girl from the cafe that morning with Pidge.  

She said hi, that she recognized him.  He said he was Pidges friend. She said her name was Acxa.  He said his name was Keith. She said she worked with Pidge, at the Lions Cafe, and that she might see him around. He said he might see her around, too.  Nothing implied, since he wasn’t even into girls like that.  Just two tipsy kids, making small talk.  Normal. Familiar.

He turned back to see Lance twirling a girl around in a circle, her blonde hair extremely long,  eyes gleaming in the lights of the party - how the owner of this house had time to change all the lights to purple and blue ones, Keith would never know. But he didn’t care, instead opting on watching Lance and the other girl, both of them giggling giddily with the alcohol in their systems.

He let the music wash over him, and they drunkenly laughed at a group of people who started doing the wave, all choppy and uncoordinated. They became friends, for that night, the way you become friends with other people at college parties, just to never see them again.

“I’m gonna get a drink, you want anything?” Keith said, minutes after the crowd dispersed from the group of kids doing the wave - they never got any better at it. He didn't even know why he was asking.  Maybe he really was that drunk.

“Yeah, can you get me tequila?  I’ll be out back. Gonna get some air.” Lance mumbled, wandering off.

“Sure,” He said, before walking off himself.

He went up the the kitchen counter, lined with drinks.  He asked the guy behind the counter for a tequila and a vodka with coke.  He leant against the counter, watching the party goers, watching them stumble over their feet.  Watching a bunch of frat boys have a shot competition down on the other side of the living room.

“One tequila and one vodka and coke?” The guy behind the counter said, tapping Keith’s shoulder.

“Yeah, thanks,” He said.

“No problem, lad,” He said, and Keith stared at the man for a bit longer than he thought he had, because the guy turned his head in question, asking him what was wrong.

“Nothin’, just,” Keith said, and he knew that sober Keith would never ask something like this to someone he didn’t even know - or dance with strangers, pretty strangers at that, at least, high school Keith would, but not this Keith - “Just, what kind of accent do you have? I can’t place it?”

“Oh, whatever do you mean?” He man said, twirling his impressive mustache.

“Never mind,” Keith said, taking the cups, raising them in farewell, “Cool mustache.”

“Why thank you,” The man beamed, turning to the girl who was asking for a drink.

Keith weaved his way through the crowd, his drinks pulled close to his face, in attempt not to get them shoved out of his hands. He looked around for the back door, where Lance had said he would be.

Keith then bumped his shoulder on a girl, who spilled her drink all down the front of his shirt.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, oh dear, oh my goodness.  I didn’t see you there, I was looking for someone, well, the guy who’s hosting the party, actually.  Lotor. This is his party. I was just going over to say hi to him, and well, I’m sorry, I wasn’t watching my step, and I-” She stopped mid sentence, and looked him in the eyes, “I’ll go get some paper towel, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” He let out, holding his hands out in front of him, trying not to let his shirt stick to him and get him chilled.

“No, just,” She looked around, insanely white hair flipping around her face, “Just, sit out back, I’ll bring you some paper towel.”  And she left.

Keith groaned, head rolling back, as went out back, not because she told him to - okay, half because she told him to, and he didn’t even know why, something about her voice .  He found Lance lying on his side in the grass.  He didn’t even know if he was awake, but he nudged him with his foot, and the boy groaned.

“Here’s your tequila,” Keith said, not really caring if Lance drank it or not, since he looked pretty wiped anyway.

“What?” He said, lifting his head from the grass, to look at Keith’s outstretched hand, with the small shot of tequila.

“Your tequila,”Keith said again, awkwardly trying to sit beside him with one hand out, the other holding his own cup. “Here.”

“Oh, thanks.” Lance took it, and held it against his chest as he lay on his back for a bit.  Keith sat in silence. It settled over them, slightly awkward. Expected, since they literally met 10 minutes ago.

“Why’s your shirt soaked?”

Keith groaned. “Some girl spilt her drink on me.”

“There you are,” A voice said from behind him.  He turned around, and Lance twisted onto his side, and squinted at the girl bounding over, paper towel in hand.  He thought he’d been delusional before, from drinks, and heat, and dancing, but her hair was insanely white. He looked a little flustered, eyes blown, and he didn’t know if it was because she was flustered about spilling her drink on him, or because she was drunk.

“Yeah,” He said, not knowing what else to say.

“I’m sorry again, for earlier.  I mean, it was only a minute ago, but I’m still sorry.  I apologize.” She said, handing him the paper towel to dab at his shirt.  And he did, he tried to wipe his shirt. Thank god it was only water. She came to sit beside him, and she stumbled a bit, flopping down ungracefully.  Drunk it is.

“Hey ‘Lura,” Lance said, sitting on his side, his head in the crook of his arm on the ground.

“Hey, Lance,” She smiled, tugging on the grass, and throwing it on his head.

“You know each other?” Keith said, and instantly regretted it.  He didn’t even know them, why would he be surprised if they one each other.  Shouldn't be surprised.

“Yeah,” Lance said, flopping back on his back, arm over his eyes, wincing as he downed his shot of tequila.  He didn’t bother to elaborate.

“Okay,” He said, ‘cause there was nothing else to say.  

Keith felt awkward the first time that night, sitting with people who already knew each other.  The music had got increasingly louder since they’d been outside, the bass going through his chest like waves.  Allura and Lance had been talking, and seemed to literally forget about Keith, save for Lance’s eyes dancing around, flitting back to him every so often.  Allura tried to get him in on the conversation, but he felt out of place. He offered back one word responses, until they left him alone. Some time during their conversation he got fed up with his freezing t-shirt, clinging to his chest, and took it off, and just put his flannel on, buttoning some of them.  He threw his black shirt around his shoulders. He hadn’t noticed Lance eyes on his chest.

He was about to get up and find Pidge, a good 5 minutes after he had been deemed the designated timer for Lance and Allura’s chugging competition (Allura won) when a yell broke through the buzz outside the house.  Some dude-bro voice.

“ COPS ARE HERE. ”

And just like that, the whole place erupted.  Screams, and yelps, and Keith definitely heard the ping-pong table get flipped on its side. People scrambling out of the pool, dragging their clothes along behind them.  The music suddenly cut out, and he heard the sirens wailing in the distance, some closer than others. As chaotic as it was, it was familiar.  

Meaning he knew exactly how to get out.  

“Oh my god, the cops are here, holy shit, what do we do,” Lance said frantically, sitting up.  The alcohol in his system was slowing him down, and Keith knew that if he left him here to get caught, Pidge would beat his ass. Lance kept on rambling frantically in Spanish, his voice getting higher and higher, more panic seeping into his voice.

Keith grabbed his arm, as Allura helped him up as well, yanking his arm. “Get up, we gotta get you out of here.”

“But, the cops, they’re gonna-” He said, stumbling over his feet.  Keith slipped his arm around Lances waist, tugging Lance’s arm over his shoulder.  He suddenly felt heavier, and he looked around, to see Allura being dragged off by some girl.  So much for help , Keith grumbled.

“They’re not gonna do anything.  Not if we get out of here. Now .” He said, and they started for the backyard gate.  The lights from the cop cars we closer, brighter. They shown in his eyes, and Lance stared up at him.  

“Dude, hurry the fuck up and let’s move.  Pidge is gonna kill me if I let you get caught,” Keith groaned, choosing to ignore Lance saying under his breath, something about Keith’s eyes.

“Yeah, okay, yeah.” And with that, they made a dash for the back gate, just as the cop cars pulled outside the street.

And they ran.  It was, familiar.  For Keith, running from the cops after a party was nostalgic.  He didn’t know he missed the adrenaline. The rush .  He wouldn’t necessarily call himself a party addict, since he had chosen not to go to any the past whole year, but he missed this.  The pulse of his heart, the booze running through it, making him feel alive, awake, even at 1 am. Way to early for a party to get busted, but that’s what you get for going to a party in what seemed to be the richest neighborhood in the city.

Lance laughed as they stumbled along the back alleys behind the neighborhood.  They weaved their way around between cars, and driveways until they came across the main street, and they started to walk normally.

Well, more so Keith leading them, and Lance trailing behind, giggling at the quieting sirens in the distance.

“That was crazy,” Lance said, coming up to Keith’s side.  He was winded, still stumbling, eyes blown, hair wild. The fluorescent lights of the corner store up ahead were shining on his face, highlighting what Keith now realized were freckles on his face.  Keith didn’t even know when it happened, but now Lance was wearing a jacket that came down his his thigh, olive green, yellow stripes on the biceps. “That was insane, we just ran from the cops. That was crazy .”

And he was right - his eyes were really blue.

“Yeah. I guess.”

“Oh, mister LA can’t compete with our Chicago college parties, huh?  What, you’re too good for us or something?” Lance slurred, and Keith whipped his head around to snap at him, to say something.  But he looked at Lance and found no malice on his face. A smile. A crooked, drunk, half smile, but still. He wasn’t being mean.

“Something like that,” Keith let out.  That was the moment Keith’s stomach decided to yell about how hungry it was.  So he went inside the store, Lance tailing behind him.

They went into the store silently.  Well, Keith did. Lance got inside, claimed the lights were too bright for his face, and sat outside, handing Keith a few bills, and slumped against the steps of the corner shop

He came back outside 5 minutes later, Keith came back out, a bag of Hot Cheetos for himself, and a bag of Takis for Lance in tow.  He also got a water bottle for them. He didn’t feel like spending more, so he got them one to share. Something Sober Keith would never do: share drinks with a literal stranger.  But if Pidge was friends with them, they couldn’t be that bad, right?

They sat outside on the steps for a while, eating silently.  Lance looked like he was a second from falling asleep, his head against Keith’s shoulder.  Keith did not want to deal with a drunk, sleeping Lance. Drunk Lance was bad as it is. He pulled his phone out to text Pidge, find out where they were.

Then a van rolled up and stopped right in front of them, and Keith lifted his head.  In the driver seat was Hunk, and Pidge stuck her head from the passenger seat. The back window rolled down, and he was met with Matt, Allura, and the girl who tugged her away earlier.  He now realized it was the same girl Lance was dancing with while he was talking to Acxa.

“I’m way too drunk for this,” He mumbled.  

Matt got out and helped him put Lance in the van.  Not that it was any help, since Matt was also wasted.  All three of them stumbled to get Lance into the seat behind Hunk, Pidge filming their failed attempts before helping get him in.  Turns out her and Hunk were the only sober ones of the group. He muttered a sleepy greeting to Matt, as he slid into the seat in the back with Allura, and the blonde girl - Romelle, Matt called her. He got in himself, sitting in the seat beside Lance.  Whos head slumped against his shoulder again.

“Thanks for not abandoning him dude,” Hunk said from the front, as he turned onto another street, “He’s the biggest lightweight ever.  I’m surprised he didn’t get caught.”

“No problem,” Keith said, slightly stumbling over his words.  His eyelids felt heavy. He vaguely heard Matt asking Hunk to drop him off by their car.

When he opened his eyes again, he felt Lance’s head being lifted off his shoulder, Lance in protest whining, leaning deeper into Keith for warmth, pulling his jacket up to his chin.  Sober Keith would’ve cringed, clearly not used to affection from anyone besides his mother and brother.

Drunk Keith let it go, slowly peeling Lance from his side as he let Pidge lead him to Matt’s car, and drove the three of them back to Keith’s apartment.

Chapter Text

K E I T H

Monday, September 2nd

8:29 am

His head hurt.  Alot. And his alarm was way too loud for this early in the morning. And staying up till one a.m to play Mario Kart with Matt and Pidge, in their own apartment two floors down was not as appealing to Present Keith as it had sounded to Past Keith.

The curtains were still closed, but light seeped through the cracks, falling into his face.  The party had been the night before last, and his head still hurt. Matt and Pidge left sometime during the day, after they finished setting up the TV that had come while Keith was out.  At least some of their furniture was arriving.

He checked the time. 8:19 a.m .  His first class was at 9:30, and if he didn’t want to be late, he needed to get up.  Now. He forced himself out of bed, with a groan.

Stumbling into the bathroom to find Adam there had become the norm, since they moved in.  There he stood, wrapped in a robe - that was definitely not his or Shiro’s, so Keith assumed he brought it over for himself - hair wrapped in a towel, brushing his teeth in the steamed mirror, glasses on the counter, fogged from steam.  Adam was in the middle of wiping his hand along the mirror to clear away some of the steam when Keith walking in.

“Morning,” He managed, around his toothbrush, spitting into the sink.

Keith grumbled a reply, before nudging Adam out of the way to get to the shower.  Adam rinsed his mouth, ruffled Keith’s hair, and left for the kitchen. He ran through his routine as quickly as possible. Nothing special. Pee, shower, brush his teeth, comb his hair.  

Twenty minutes later, he made his way back to his room.  Changed into yet another pair of black ripped jeans, this time only cuts in the knee, and a gray t-shirt.  He grabbed his bag, roughly stuff notebooks and a sketchbook and textbooks and his pack of pencils inside.

He found Shiro in the kitchen, with Adam, both of them ready to go to class.  Adam in an olive green shirt and jeans that looked like they were going to fall apart at the seams from how many rips there were.  Shiro was, simple. Expected. In a black t-shirt and thin gray sweats.

They both looked frantic. Adam was blowing away smoke from their new toaster and Shiro had thrust three travel mugs of coffee towards Keith, panic etched into his face. “We need coffee.  STAT. Do whatever magic you do, I don’t care, but do it fast.”

“I thought coffee destroyed concentration and stunted growth or something?” Keith said, smirking, as he got to work on the coffee.

“ I don’t care at this point, ” Shiro deadpanned . “I’ve got three back to back classes, and I cannot fall asleep on the first day,” Shiro groaned, going back to his room to fetch his bag he left.  

“Hold on, I’m remembering something,” Keith said, faking concentration.   “I think I remember, specifically telling you not to register for 9 am classes,” Keith hollered back, putting sugar and cream into their coffee.

“Keith, for once in your life, just shut up .” Keith laughed.

“Takashi! We’re gonna be late, hurry your ass up,” Adam yelled, already at the front door. He stuffed his feet into his black converse, and then grabbed the keys looking like he was ready to drag Shiro out of his room by the ear.

“I’m coming,” Shiro groaned, shoving his arms into his black bomber jacket.  It wasn’t as hot as it was yesterday, but it was still warm. Too warm for a jacket.  But nobody mentioned anything. They knew Shiro was still working on using the prosthetic, even though it had been years.  And back home, he’d already had friends who knew about it. Now, here, in a new place of course he would feel self conscious again.  Expected.

He glanced at Adam, a silent plea to help his brother.  And of course, Adam understood. He always did, when it came to Shiro.  Adam was literally godsent, and Keith made a note to thank him for being there for Shiro through everything.  

“Keith, where’s our coffee?” Shiro groaned, voice strained.  He grabbed his toast from Adam’s hand, and held it in his mouth as he tried to put his shoes on, while balancing his bag on his shoulder.  Keith came over and handed them their mugs. Adam sipped, recoiling when he burnt his mouth, but groaned in appreciation nonetheless.

“Keith, I swear to god, how you make drip coffee taste amazing every single time is honestly beyond me,” Adam said, still trying to hurry Shiro along, while he stopped to fix his bangs in the front mirror.  Adam groaned, clearly annoyed “Takashi, I swear to fucking god, if you make us late for the first day-”

“I’m going, I’m going,” Shiro said, grabbing the car keys from the hook behind the door, “Thanks Keith. Make sure you get yourself in on time today, yeah?”

“Takashi, he’s a grown ass man.  He can get to class. We need to go ,” Adam groaned, literally shoving Shiro out of the apartment, “Thanks for the coffee, dude, but we really need to go.  Now. Like, we needed to leave twenty minutes ago.”

“No problem,” Keith said, scratching his head.

“‘Kay, see you later,” Shiro said, “Oh, also, change your shirt. You got coffee on it.” Shiro said, and shut the door.

Keith looked down. Sure enough, there was a giant coffee stain down the front.  He didn’t even realise it was there. He groaned, trudging back to his closet, and pulling out a  white t-shirt with a sketch of a planet on the top corner. He checked the clock on his wall , 8:40 a.m.  Before he could start panicking, he ran out of the room, grabbed his bag from the chair in the kitchen, his coffee mug - Adam’s mock birthday gift to Shiro, a custom travel mug with Post Malone’s face on the Mona Lisa - and tugged on his red vans, and the red and black checkered flannel that was thrown on top of one of the boxes near the door.. He locked the door to his apartment, and started down the hall.

He ran to the elevator, after an elder couple came out, trying to catch it.  He did, and slipped inside, pulling out his phone to put in his earphones.

He heard a shout from down the hall. “Hold the elevator!”. So he did.  And then this guy came running in, clad in a dark blue t-shirt, black basketball short, and white air forces.  He stumbled over the doorway, where the elevator floor meets the hallway, and his arms started flailing around to support himself. He was about to topple over, and Keith stuck his arms out to steady him, and the guy fell on his shoulder slightly.

“Thanks dude, I really didn’t wanna take the stairs,” He looked up and Keith was surprised at the intense blue of the eyes before him. “My roommate already left an hour ago, and I slept in.”

“Lance?” He said.  Lance looked confused.

“Um, yeah?” He said, getting off of Keith’s shoulder. He stared at Keith for a bit, as the elevator started moving

“Oh, yeah, you probably don’t even remember me. Sorry, I’m - ” Keith started saying but Lance cut him off.

“Wait, I recognize you.  Were you-”

“Pidge’s friend.  We met at the party two nights ago.” Keith said, feeling embarrassed

“Oh yeah, I remember! We ran from the cops together, and you got me a water bottle, when we went to that store,” Lance beamed, all remnants of confusion gone from his face, “Keith, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry, I was kinda shitfaced that night.”

“No worries,” Keith said.

“I hope I didn’t do anything too crazy.  I don’t usually drink that much, honestly.” Lance said, a light blush dusted his face, and looking slightly embarrassed.  Keith stared at him a bit confused for a minute, since this Lance was almost opposite from two nights ago. That Lance was bubbly, awake, talkative, confident.  And surely, he was, but now he looked calmer, shy, embarrassed maybe.

Keith thought back on Lance flirting with him.  Lance dancing with him. Calling his eyes pretty. Lance calling him gorgeous. Calling him hot.

Heat crawled up his neck, “Nothing too bad.”

“Oh, alright.”

Silence.

“Nice mug,” Lance said.

Keith hummed in response, too embarrassed to verbally say anything

And they rode the elevator together in silence, both of them having their earphones in. They went their separate ways once they got to the front lobby. Lance waved goodbye, calling out a “See you around!” as he went to go out from the back door.  Keith raised his hand awkwardly, walking to his bike parked outside.

Groaning at awkwardness, he downed the rest of his coffee - black, one sugar- and put the Post Malone/Mona Lisa mug in his bike compartment, along with his bag, them switching places with his helmet. He hated the thought of Shiro going all Dad ™ mode on him, if he didn’t wear a riding jacket, but he honestly would rather endure The Talk ™ later, than reeking of sweat on his first day of class.  Shaking his head, he pulled on his flannel and his black riding gloves.

Let’s get this day over with, he thought, pulling out of the parking lot.

____________________________________________________________

It had taken him the good part of twenty minutes to get to the Altea U, park his bike, and find his class.  He finally did, five minutes before his class was about to start. In the Art Wing, where he would be taking this class, Art History, along with Photography, and Fine Arts.  The rest of his classes - one - were in the Science wing. Astronomy.

Shiro had honestly talked him into the Arts program.  As good as he was - and he was good, amazing even (not that he’d ever believe that) - , he never really felt that people would appreciate his art.  

“It doesn’t matter.  It’s art. Aren’t people always saying it’s in the eye of the beholder, or something,” Shiro said, from the opposite side of the couch, while they applied for programs in Altea U  “Isn’t that what Krolia’s always telling you?”

He inhaled, deep, through his nose.  The way Shiro taught him when they were younger, whenever Keith started getting anxious over something.   

The doors were big.  Glass.  What was it about Chicago and glass walls and doors? The doors had big brass door handles.  He walked through, his bike helmet tucked under his arm.  The elderly woman at the front desk smiled as she told him that the Art History course would be at the end of the hall. So he went, fingers flitting against the hem of his shirt.  He shouldn’t be this nervous to sit at the back of a class with a bunch of people who he most likely wouldn’t talk to outside of class. The acceptance letter had said there were only about fifty other people in his class. Not too bad.  That’s forty-nine people he would just try to avoid. No big deal.

The door at the end of the hall read Art History, in gold block letters, with the name of the teacher underneath, Prof.Thace.  

Keith closed his eyes again, concentrating on his breathing.   Four seconds in, four seconds out.  Four seconds in, four seconds out. In. Out.  He finally opened the door to the class.

Regular desks.  Regular walls. Regular chalk board.  But, the floor was a splatter of paint.  Like someone had used the floor as a canvas. Reds and whites and greens and yellows and blues and purples and browns splattered on the black floor.  The walls had paintings on them. Big. Small. Colourful. Black and white. There were pictures of famous painters, most of them Keith knew of.

He quickly made his way to a seat in the back of the room, away from some of the students already there.  He got out his notebook, and the extremely overpriced textbook and laid them out in front of him. People started to pour into the class. Everyone looked as exhausted as he felt. Nobody came to the back of the class. There were more than enough seats to hold fifty people, and since loads of people usually dropped out within the first few weeks anyway, that gave Keith more than enough space to not talk to anyone.

Make friends.  Think of it as an opportunity. ‘Cause it is. Do you honestly want to be friends with your brother, his boyfriend, your brothers friend, and his kid sister, for the rest of your life?   Shiro’s voice rang in his ears.  He knew his brother meant well, but he didn’t realise that Keith wasn’t the social butterfly that Shiro and Adam and Matt and Pidge were.  He did, but he just liked to try and help push him out of his comfort zone. It wasn’t as simple as “make new friends” for Keith. His old friends were honestly enough.

The professor walked in - or Keith assumed it was the professor, since everyone settled down and took their seats.  Professor Thace looked young for a professor. He had on a white button down. Dark wash jeans. Loafers. Lightly tanned skin, probably somewhere over 6 foot,  Keith was used to his professors to be older. This was different.

Professors Thace laid his laptop bag on the desk in front of him and started sifting through his things, “Just gimme a minute guys, I’ve gotta set up. Traffic was horrible today”  The class rumbled in acknowledgement.

Then the door burst open.  Keith snapped his head up, as well did the rest of the class. Lance stood in the doorway, clearly panting, and eyes franting.

“Sorry, Professor Thace, the bus was slow, and there was an accident on the route,” Lance said, padding over to a take a seat in the back.  He either hadn’t noticed Keith yet or was choosing to ignore him. Keith didn’t know whether to be offended or happy that he wouldn’t have to deal with another person.

“It’s fine Lance, find a seat.” Professor Thace said, his laptop hooked up to the projector.  Lance scanned the seats, and his eyes fell onto Keith. He smiled a bit. Then frowned. A bit.

He leaned down a bit, to speak to Keith as he sat into the seat next to him.  “That’s kinda my seat, but I’ll let you have it today, since you saved me from the campus cops.”

“Whatever,” Keith said, slightly annoyed.  His seat? Self entitled prick more like it.

“I’m only kidding dude, woah,” Lance said, laughing shakily, clearly trying to take the edge off of whatever malice Keith had clearly thrown into the air between them. He pulled out his coral blue notebook on the desk and turned to the front.

Keith was going to reply with a retort, but Professor Thace started talking.  “Alright, as you know, this is Art History. You’re gonna learn the history of art.  It’s gonna be long, and annoying, and you’ll most likely hate it. But, you’ll all be artists by the end, ‘cause not a single one of my students have failed.”

He smiled, “Now, I know we aren’t fifth graders, but I’d really like to see everyone say their names, prefered pronoun, how old they are, if you want, no pressure, and one thing about themselves, starting with the front.  And please don’t say, my favourite colour is blue, because that’s boring. Say something original”

So they did.  They all said their name and stated one fact about themselves. Professor Thace started first.  “My name’s Thace, please don’t call me Professor, makes me feel old. Um, I’m 30. And I can I’ve been to the bottom of the grand canyon.”

Most people said their age.  A few people who looked a bit older didn’t  Nobody pried. He learnt that there was a girl who could sing with her mouth closed. She seemed nice enough, a bit of a show off and had way to much energy in her voice than Keith had in his whole life probably.  He found out, some guy Cris, could move one eye while the other one stayed still. It was pretty weird. Turns out Ezor was also in his class, the girl from the coffee shop. It also turns out that she is really flexible.  Took gymnastics since she was four until now. Said she do back flips and land in a split midair.

And sure enough she could. There was a groan from people who were squeamish - Lance included, which made Keith huff out a laugh, and Lance looked over at him, his expression torn between being amused and irritated.  

“Alright, who’s next,” Professor Thace said from his spot on his desk, cross legged.  They landed on Keith, “You, what’s your name?”

Keith’s hands started sweating.  He hated being put on the spot. “...Uh, my names Keith.  I’m a he, I mean, he slash him pronouns” He managed. God, I sound like an idiot, he thinks to himself.    Should he say his age?  He probably shouldn’t. But what harm could it do…? “I’m, uh, 20.  And uh…” There wasn’t anything unique about him. He couldn’t do anything special.  He should just say he has a motorcycle, yeah, that’s vague enough to suffice. “...Uh, I guess I’m okay at body paint?”

Stupid.  So stupid .  Why would he say that.  He shouldn’t have said that, because now, everyones looking at him and some girl actually said “Really?” and now he’s nodding his head. “Yeah, I’m okay I guess.  I learnt back in LA.” And now another girl’s eyes are literally shining, and she’s asking him “You lived in LA? That’s so cool”

Truth is, he is good at body paint.  Better than he’s letting on. But he came into this class less than twenty minutes ago telling himself that he wouldn’t even become friends with anyone and now, here he is, telling people that his name, how old he is, and that he’s good at body paint?  Literally only Shiro knows. Adam doesn't even know that, and he’s Shiro’s boyfriend, and Keith’s like, almost-basically best friend / older brother.

Okay, yeah, maybe Adam does know, because Adam caught him doing it one time and forced him to do some face glow in the dark face paint on him and Shiro to go to some party-rave-thing that he forced Shiro to go to.  But Matt doesn’t even know. Pidge doesn’t even know.

Now a group of strangers knew.  

And now he just noticed that Lance is beaming at him like he’s the coolest thing in the world since running water or the light bulb or the cell phone or something, and he realizes that oh my god now Lance knows, too.

“That is pretty cool,” Thace said.  “Alright, Lance, it’s your turn.”

Lance smiles, and looks around, “Hey, I’m Lance.  McClain. I’m 19. Almost 20. He him pronouns are fine,” He smiles.  “And, um, since Thace decided to call me out, I wont say that my favourite colour is blue,” The class laughs slightly, Thace smiles a bit.  “So, um, I guess I’m pretty good at that whole tying a knot of a cherry stem with my mouth thing. And, bonus info, I have like, wicked aim when you blow the cover off of a straw.”  Whoever didn’t laugh earlier, surely laughed now. Even Keith, despite his attempts to try and let Lance think Keith didn’t find him funny.

“But I don’t use straws anymore, ‘cause save the turtles.” Lance said, laughing.

Ezor called out from across the room, “Fuck SeaWorld!”  A chorus of agreements came from across the class. Keith oddly finds himself calm.  He never would’ve thought he wouldn’t hate his class, but so far it’s been alright

“Okay, alright. Yes, ‘F’ Seaworld.  Please try not to swear too loud, the dean has it out for me, and I would really like it if I could keep our meetings to a bare minimum,” Thace says.  

And that’s it.  Lance is the last person that says a weird fact about themselves, so Thace starts the class.  It’s simple. Standard. A break down of the syllabus. Keith feels more relaxed, not as nervous as he was in the beginning, since Thace is a very laid back teacher.  He’s cracking jokes all the time. Lance is doodling on his notebook margins, drawing little stars and sketches of planets, taking notes periodically.  Not that Keith is paying attention, ‘cause he isn’t.  Hasn’t bothered talking to Keith.  He’s grateful for that, and before he knows it, the hour and a half mark is up and he’s leaving the class.

But, now Lance thinks it’s a perfectly reasonable time to talk to Keith.

“Hey, dude,” Lance says, sidling up against Keith in the hallway.  Keith can’t help but smell his cologne - that smells like spice and vanilla, like that’s even possible - since Lance thinks it’s a really good idea to stand this close to him.  And now Keith cant stop thinking about Lance dancing, drunk, really blue eyes, calling him hot -

“What?” Keith gets out, a little too aggressively.   If Lance recoils, he doesn’t let Keith see it. He simply held the door open for Keith to walk through.

“Nothing.  Hey, are you doing anything later?” Lance said, scratching the back of his neck.

“Why?” Keith said.  He really didn’t care where this was going.  He honestly just wanted to go stay at the Lion till his next class started.  It was in 4 hours from now, but that didn’t mean he had nothing to do.

“I was just gonna ask, if you wanted, to come out to lunch with us.  Me and Pidge and a few other people you met at Lotor’s party. If you weren’t busy.” Lance said, “I mean, if you want.  You wouldn’t be imposing. And I know we don’t, like, know eachother like that, but like, you kinda saved me from getting a warning or whatever the cops do to kids at parties, so I like, oh you or whatever.  And you’re Pidge’s friend, so you’re like, part of the group.”

So all of Matt and Pidge and Adam and Shiro’s pouty lips and puppy eyes were really hard to say no to.  But he worked his way from there. Now he was almost invincible to them. But Lance, now that Keith is looking at him, it’s like his eyes have a default setting called Puppy Eyes ™.  And his lips are just, naturally pouty, and it’s completely unfair. He isn’t even trying. It’s unnatural, it’s unfair. His eyes being extremely blue and somehow sparkling isn’t helping at all.

You’re so gay , the voice in his head snickers.   Not helping, he bites back.

“When?” He says, without thinking, because Lance’s eyes are actually sparkling now, the sun is in his eyes, and they are really fucking blue, and now he finds himself thinking back on everyone he has ever met in his life and trying to find someone else who has eyes this blue but he’s drawing a blank.  “I mean, if Pidge wanted me to come wouldn’t she have said something herself. And you don’t owe me or anything, for Saturday. Pidge would’ve killed me if I let you get caught.”

“Yeah, she probably would’ve,” Lance chuckled, and Keith started walking towards his bike, with his helmet in his bag, because he just spent at least a full 30 seconds just staring at Lance and listening to him ramble, and trying to figure out how someone's eyes could be that blue.   “But, no, it’s fine.  I’m sure nobody would mind.”

“Lance, dude are you ready,” Keith turned his head to the voice.  There stood Pidge, Hunk walking up behind them. Her hair was, surprisingly done, in some abstract way.  Her black t-shirt read a bunch of zero’s and one’s - “It’s a computer science pun.  You wouldn’t understand,” She said, smirking the first time he asked about it.  He grumbled, but kicked her shin - and some baggy jeans, a olive green zip up hoodie tied around her waist.  Hunk, behind her, had his orange headband. A black shirt, and a yellow button down on top, light wash jeans.

“Hey Pidge,” Lance said, moving past Keith, fist bumping Pidge.  Then fist bumping Hunk, but theirs was way more elaborate. There was fist bumping, finger waggling, explosion sounds, the whole lot.  “Hey, hope you don’t mind, but I invited Keith for lunch. And I’m kinda surprised you didn’t, since you practically wouldn’t shut up about him for the whole summer break.”

“Oh, did she now?” Keith’s interest was piqued, forgetting about trying to weave his way out of the social gathering.  

Pidge grumbled, “No I do not.  I mentioned you like, twice.”

“Per day,” Hunk said, laughing, looking up from his phone.

“Your supposed to be the neutral party,” Pidge said looking exasperated. “And, besides, you talk about Shay non-stop.”

“That’s ‘cause Shay’s his girlfriend, Pidge. you aren’t dating Keef-y boy, here.  That doesn’t apply to you,” Lance said, grabbing her in a playful headlock.

“My name’s not Keef,” Keith said, looking at Lance.  Lance ignored the glare, laughing.

Hunk’s face blushed a deep red.  “Shay’s not my girlfriend.” He said, blushing furiously, still tapping away at his phone.

“Not yet anyways,” Lance winked at Hunk.  

Hunk sighed, looking up at the sky, “Hopefully.”

“Eww, as much as I love teasing you about your unrequited love, I need to convince Keith to come with us to Arusia,” Pidge said, squirming her way out of Lance’s choke hold.  “So, you coming?”

“I’ve got uh, stuff,” Keith said scratching the back of his neck.

He in fact, did not have stuff.  He literally had nothing to do. He didn’t even know why he was saying he was busy. He wanted to go, he just assumed that Lance had asked him out of pity, or as Lance said, like, repayment for not letting him get caught, or fall on his ass shitfaced on Saturday.

“No you don’t. I took a picture of your schedule.  I know you don’t even have anything else until four o’clock.” Pidge glared at him.

“How do you even have my schedule.  When did you - ?” he stopped mid sentence, pinching the bridge of his nose, “You know what, I don’t even wanna know.”

Pidge beamed, “Okay, so now that you have no excuse, will you come with us.  I was literally on my way here to tell you to come with us.”

“I thought you were coming here to get Lance so you guys could go?”

“Nah, Coran was gonna pick me up from the Union building, but Pidge said she was gonna come here and ask you, and since I was already here, we all said we’d meet up here for him to pick us up.”  Lance said, coming over to bump his arm against Keith’s shoulder.

“Who’s Coran?”

BEEP BEEP

A car horn blared from down the road, and they all turned around to face it.  A black dodge caravan pulled up and parked right in front of them. The window rolled down, and there sat the man from the bar. The one with the sick handlebar mustache and that accent that Keith couldn’t place.

“Pidge, Hunk.  Lance my boy, you guys ready to go?” The man - Coran - said, and the back door opened.  There sat Allura in the back, with Matt, Romelle, and another girl that Keith hadn’t met before in the middle seats.  But he recognized her. It was N-7, Matt’s girlfriend. He ever really got her real name, they all just called her N-7.  They’d facetimed, when Matt deemed it ready for them to meet her - “I’m not letting you embarrass me infront of my girlfriend until she isn’t scared of Pidge anymore.  I made the mistake of letting her meet Pidge, a bit too early, and I don’t think she’s recovered yet. You can blame Pidge.” - She was pretty.  Pale skinned, tall, pale blonde hair, dyed pale blue on the tips, blue eyes. Not his type, since Keith’s type was boys , but still  very pretty. They looked happy together. He was happy for Matt.

“Yeah, we’re ready to go. Keith’s coming too,” Pidge said, jumping up front.  She thrust her bag to Hunk, who went to put it in the trunk, along with the rest of everyone's bags. “Shotgun!”

“Well, Lance, as much as I love you buddy, I am not sitting in the back. Go figure yourself out.” Hunk said, sitting in beside Romelle, who had Matt and N-7 on the other side of her.  

“Alright, even though I am not above climbing over all of you to get to the back, well, someone's gotta move over so I can get it.  And Keith,” Lance said, looking like he really wasn’t above climbing over everyone. He turned back to Keith, “You are coming, right?”

“Keith’s here?” Allura said, the back seat, “Hello.  I haven’t seen you since Saturday. I hope you aren’t too mad about my clumsiness.  I really am sorry.”

“It’s fine, really.” He said.

Matt looked over at him, from beside Romelle, “Dude, get in the car.  We’re going to this old fashioned burger place and it is the best.”

He couldn’t say no. Not after all their proding, and Pidge would never let him just not go, especially if he didn’t have anything else to do.  

Make friends, Shiro’s voice was still in his head.

“Yeah, I guess it wouldn’t hurt,” Keith said, and Hunk got up, and pulled the seat down, so Keith and Lance could climb in behind Romelle.  She smiled at him, introduced herself. He said hi back, gave the standard “I’m Keith,” and Lance was then squeezing himself into the seat beside Keith.

“Try not to poke his eye out with your noodle arms, dude,” Matt said, laughing, as Hunk put the seat down, and shut the door.

“I should take that to offense and roast your ass in both Spanish and English, but your girlfriend is here so I’ll go easy on you for now,” Lance said.  “And besides, this is 130 pounds of lean muscles baby.” He flexed his arm and almost literally poked out Keith’s eye, if Allura hadn’t pulled him back into the seat.  

“Dude, watch it,” Keith said, rubbing his shoulder where Lance’s elbow made contact with instead of his eye.

“Sorry dude, can’t keep these babies hidden for long,” Lance smirked, and winked. A faint warmth crawled up Keith’s neck as he rolled his eyes.  Just because he was easy on the eyes did not take away the fact that he was annoying.

“Whatever,” Keith said.

“And dude, seriously, who even says roast anymore,” Pidge said twisting from the front seat.  “What are you, five?”

“Hey, it’s not my fault, blame Marco for teaching Nadia and Sylvio.  Now it’s all they can say,” Lance laughed.

“How is your brother fairing?   I haven’t seen him for quite a while now” Coran said from the front, the indicator blinking.  Marco?  Nadia? Sylvio?   Keith suddenly felt very out of place.  He didn’t know them - Well, he knew Pidge and Matt, and he kinda knew N-7, and he technically met all of these people before, but he didn’t know them.  Not well enough to know who Marco and Nadia and Sylvia, forget well enough to ask how Lance’s brother was fairing.  And which one even was his brother?  Sylvio? No, probably Marco.

“He’s fine, he has completely changed. College stress completely wiped his need to go to every single party,” Lance cackled, and Matt snickered.  I guess Matt knows them too.

“Marco is his older brother, Nadia and Sylvio are his niece and nephew,” Allura whispered from beside him. Keith turned his head, zoning out from the conversation rattling around the car.   “Lance has got a rather large family, so if you get confused with the names in the beginning, don’t worry. It took me about a month to get all the names straight.”

“It took me two,” Romelle said twisting her head from the seat.

“Took me two and a half,” N-7 said from beside Romelle.  Her voice was low, wistful. “He’s always going on about them.  It’s rather sweet.”

“You’ll be fine,” Allura reassured him.

Something foreign fluttered in Keith’s chest.  Unfamiliar. And he didn’t like it. Not when it was about Lance, a total attention seeker, and obnoxiously loud stranger.  Was he a stranger? He was friends with Pidge so he couldn’t be that bad?

He pushed the unfamiliar feelings away, tuning back into the conversation Allura, Romelle and N-7 were having.  Something about a bunch of crystal Allura had shipped from some company in France. N-7 said something about Matt that Keith missed, and then Matt turned into the conversation.  Hunk and Pidge and Coran were all talking about something to do with computers or work - Keith didn’t care.

“So, LA huh,” Lance said from beside him.  Keith didn’t even register what he said, until Lance leaned forward a bit more, and asked, “You okay, dude, you look a little lost.”

“What, no, I’m fine,” He sighed, shifting in his seat.  He was way too close to this kid, the stupid spice and vanilla filling his nose again.  “What did you say?”

“I said, ‘LA, huh.’”

“What?”

Lance rolled his head back, groaning, “Dude, didn’t you say you were from LA in class.  And Pidge said you came from there. I’m just asking how LA is.”

“It’s okay I guess” Keith said.  “Loud. Too many crowds.”

“But it’s The City ™.”

Keith lifted an eyebrow, not knowing whether to be amused or not, “Please tell me you didn’t just say trademark out loud as ‘tee em’?”

“And so what?” Lance smirked, “You know what I said.  Isn’t LA like, party city. All the celebrities live there.  And the best ones are born there”

“Harrison Ford was literally born in Chicago,” Keith said.

“Okay, yeah, but Harrison Ford is like, top notch, best of the best.  He doesn't associated with commoners after Star Wars.”

“Commoners being other celebrities?  Or commoners being regular people.”

“Both.”

Keith huffed out a laugh.  “I’m being serious, him playing Han Solo was the best thing to grace the sci-fi world, and after that performance, I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t associate with commoners, both celebrities and regular people.” Lance shrugged.

“Whatever,” Keith said, lips tugging.  And before his mind could stop he was talking again.   The voice at the back of his head spoke again, Abort abort.  Stop, abort mission, do not speak more.  You’re going to say something and he’s going say something cute stupid back and you’re going to blush oh god -  “Carrie Fisher was better though.”

“Of course she was. Female empowerment.  Harrison could never beat Carrie,” Lance looked up at the roof of the car sky, “Rest in peace.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Keith laughed again.  Well I’m just going to ignore that flip in my stomach I guess, because there is no way I’m acknowledging it.  Nope, never happened.

“So why’d you leave the City of Cities?  Wouldn’t LA be a better place to do art and stuff.  Don’t they have like, graffiti on every wall. And it’s more, I don’t know, artistic?” Lance questioned, sounding honestly interested.

“I don’t know,”  He said, scratching his neck, “My brother was applying here, and I guess I needed a change of scenery.” Lies, lies, lies. If Matt or Pidge had heard what he said, they didn’t call him out on it.

“That’s cool,” Lance said, “Don’t think I could ever get tired of LA, the City of Cities, but whatever, it’s cool.”

“Are you always like this?”

“Yeah basically,” Hunk said from the front.

“Dude, Pidge is right, what’s wrong with you today, I thought you were supposed to be neutral,” Lance said exasperated.  

“Just sayin’, dude,” Hunk laughed.  

“Alright crew, here we are. Everyone out” Coran said, stopping on the street outside a bright red restaurant.  Pidge flew out of the front seat, adn went inside ahead of everyone, claiming to grab the best seats before anyone took them.  The rest of them piled out, one by one, and passer-by’s must have thought it looked weird, nine people filing out of a seven seater.  Lance held the door for everyone, throwing sweet overly dramatic and cringey compliments to everyone as they walked past.

 And since Keith got out of the van last, nobody was there to make fun of the blush that creeped up his neck when Lance winked at him, saying “After you,” as he walked in after Keith.

They all settled into two booth’s, side by side, the back corner of the diner.  It was retro, aesthetic, there was a jukebox in the back. Red leather booths, red leather seats on shiny metal bar stools, lined along the counter. Metal tables with red metal chairs scattered around the general area of the diner.  It was pretty, aesthetic, a total 80’s retro vibe.

They all sat around, Coran and Allura in the opposite booth across from Hunk and Pidge.  Matt, N-7 and Romelle across from him, with Lance on his left. They all ordered and waited for their meals to come, when the waitress. Nyma, her name tag read.  Not that Keith even noticed. Not until Lance used the overly corny pick up line where you don’t know their name, then look down at the tag and drags your eyes up back to their face.  So he did that, and said “Thanks, Nyma”.   Not that Keith cared.  Because he didn’t. Lance was just annoying him, and the girl was probably creeped out.  Yeah, that’s why her face flushed right? Because she was mad, so she got red in the face.  That’s exactly why. Right? Right.

“Dude, you okay?” Lance said from beside him.  He was waving his hand in front of Keith’s face.  Keith blinked back into reality, taking in what happened.  Matt and N-7 were talking, Romelle had apparently gone to the bathroom, and Coran, Allura, Hunk and Pidge were all talking about classes.  Lance, had apparently been talking his ear of about how cool this place was, but Keith was zoned out.

“What?” Keith said.

“Dude, are you good.  You keep like, spacing out today,” Lance said, sounding actually concerned.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He felt bad. Slightly.  Sure, he was a bit too hyper for Keith to handle, but that doesn’t mean he’s a bad guy?  Right?

Make friends, Shiros voice was still in his head .  Damn you, for always being the voice of reason.  Let me brood in peace.

“Alright, well, anyway” Lance smirked, picking up the straw on the table beside their drinks, “Wanna see me hit Pidge with the straw cover thingy?”

Keith smiled slightly, “What happened to ‘cause save the turtles’?”

Lance waved him off, readying the straw “I recycle dude, it’ll be fine.”  He thrust a straw into Keith’s chest and his chest under Lance’s fingers definitely did not tighten not at all nuh uh, not one bit, “Here, I’ll teach you.  Watch the sharpshooter in action.”

Keith chuckled, taking the straw, “Sharpshooter?”

“I am well versed in the ancient art of straw cover thingy shooting.  Watch and learn young padawan.” Lance smirked, winking.

He moved around Keith, and aimed his straw at Pidge, who was animatedly talking to Coran and Allura about something - probably computers or whatever.  He aimed his straw, and inhaled deeply. Then, let out a quick burst of air, the paper cover of the straw hitting Pidge square in the face, even getting behind her glasses.  Matt and N-7 laughed at her exasperated face. Coran, Allura and Hunk looked confused as Pidge let out a squeal of surprise.

Keith held his hand to his face to stifle his laugh as Pidge snapped her head to Lance, who had calmly slipped his phone out and pretended to be going through instagram.

“Lance, I swear to god.  Must you do this every time?” She screeched, earning glares from the rest of the people in the diner.  

Lance looked up from his phone, glancing at Pidge, “Why, Katie dearest, I have no idea what you’re talking about?”

She grumbled and Keith swore he could see her face go red, steam coming out of her ears.  Allura looked around at them, concerned. Lance hid behind Keith as Pidge started pelting packets of sugar and salt and pepper at him.  One of them hit Matt square in the face, and he threw his packets, which hit Hunk and Allura, who threw them at Keith, who threw them at Coran.  

Coran threw them and it hit N-7 square in the face. Nobody said anything, everyone stood still, waiting for whatever she was going to do.

She giggled, and threw the packet at Pidge’s face, completely knocking her glasses off of her face.  Everyone stared at Pidge, who looked just as shocked as everyone felt.

Lance was the first to burst out laughing. Then Matt.  Then Hunk, Coran, Allura, and Keith couldn’t help but burst out too. It was fun.  He hadn’t acted this childish in what felt like forever. It was unfamiliar, but he didn’t push it away.  

Romelle came back from the bathroom, confused, to see everyone in hysterics, throwing packets of sugar and pepper and salt and ketchup and mayonnaise around, with all the patrons staring at them.   

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They all left the diner - turns out it was called Arusian Burger Shacke - and went back out to the van an hour and a half later.  Coran had to run out halfway through to pay the meter.

“So, where are you all off to for the rest of the day?” Coran asked everyone after they all piled into the car.  Lance called shotgun and literally hurtled over Pidge and jumped into the front seat. Pidge got stuck in the back with Matt and N-7, and Hunk sat with Allura and Romelle in the middle.  They had already pulled off of the side of the street, and were heading back to the campus.

“Well, I’ve got about thirty minutes till my next class, so do you think you can drop me off at the Science building,” Matt said.

“Yeah, me and Hunk too,” Pidge said, not looking up from her phone.

“I don’t have any more classes for today, you can drop me off at home after everyone's done,” Allura said.

“I’ve got culinary class, so I guess we’re all going to the science building.” Romelle said.

“Yeah, what the hell, how do we all have class in the science building.  I’ve got astronomy next,” Lance said, twisting in the passenger seat.

“I don’t have class, but you can just drop me off at the science building.  My apartment is kinda far away, I’d hate to bother you,” N-7 said from the back.  

“Nonsense, I’ll drive you.  It’s no big deal dear,” Coran said, turning towards the science building.  

“Well I guess I’ll get out at the science wing too,” Keith said, finally talking.  “I’ll just walk over to the Art Wing.”

“No, it’s on the way. I’ll drive you there, it’s fine lad.”

“No, I’ve gotta get my bike anyway.  I don’t wanna leave it in the parking lot.”

“Your bike?” Lance said, from the front.  “Like what, a bicycle? Dude, nobody around here is gonna steal a bicycle, your fine.”

Keith was starting to remember why he didn’t like Lance earlier.  “No, my bike .  Like, motorbike.  It’s a motorcycle.”

“ What ?  You drive a motorcycle?” Lance screeched, and if it hadn’t been that Coran was in fact an amazing driver, they probably would’ve crashed.  But Coran was an amazing driver so they didn’t. “No way you drive a motorcycle?”

“He does now can you shut up before we all go deaf,” Pidge said, groaning from Lance’s voice assaulting her ears. All their ears.

“I don’t believe it.  How can someone as lame as you have something as cool as a whole motorcycle.” Lance said, crossing his arms.  Coran pulled up towards the front of the science wing.

“‘Cause I just do?” Keith said, sarcastically.

“Won’t believe it till I see it.” Lance said, turning back to the front.  Coran stopped in front of the Science wing, and let everyone who was leaving out.  Which turned out to be half the car. Matt kissed N-7 before hoping out of the car.  Keith got out after Romelle, who waved bye to Allura, saying she’d see her at home, before grabbing her bag from the trunk and  bounding up the steps, trying not to be late to class. Lance, Pidge, Matt and Hunk all grabbed their bags from the trunk, waving bye to Coran and Allura nd N-7 who stayed in the car.  

Keith walked around the car, stopping by Corans window.  He leaned against the window, “Sorry about Saturday. For, you know, asking about your accent.  If you got offended, I’m sorry.”

“Not a problem, my boy.  It’s fine. I get the question quite a lot,” Coran beamed, smiling.

“Alright, just thought I’d apologize,” Keith mumbled, “Just incase, you know.  Incase if I like, overstepped or something.”

“No, you hadn’t.  Don’t worry, Keith.” Coran said.

“Alright.  Thanks for bringing me along.  It was fun.” Keith said, leaving.  He waved at Allura and N-7 in the back, who both said their bye’s and and waved him goodbye,

“Alright, mullet head, show me this supposed bike you’ve got.”  Lance said, crossing his arms over his chest, nose pointed upwards.

Keith snapped his head towards Lance, “Excuse me?”

“You.  And your motorcycle that doesn’t exist.  Prove it.” Lance said again, pointing his finger in Keith’s face.

“No, what the hell.  I don’t have a mullet.” He shoved  Lance’s hand out of his face, and dug into his bag for his helmet. Lance’s eyes dropped to the black shiny helmet, with red etchings, and his mouth dropped open not long after.Keith started walking away, tying his hair back with the red band on his wrist.

“Just ‘cause you’ve got a helmet doesn’t mean you’ve got a bike, dude.  Receipts or it didn’t happen,” Lance said, following Keith around to the parking lot, scanning for where Keith’s bike could be.  Lance stopped and stared at where Keith was walking.

Receipts, huh, Keith smirked, ducking behind a car where his bike was. I’ll give you receipts.  Keith started up his bike, and revved the engine.  He tugged the helmet over his head, and pulled out. He twisted his body, and rode out of the parking spot, and flew by Lance.

Not before turning his head sideways, to see Lance’s jaw on the floor, watching him drive by.  

Keith couldn’t help but grin at the shocked expression on Lance’s cute face as he sped by, the engine roaring, as he left a cloud of dust and gravel in his wake.

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Lance stood, watching Keith speed by.  Stood there for a good thirty second after Keith sped off, just standing there, mouth slack.  

Damn , that’s hot , he thought, mind slightly wandering.  He shook his head before any thoughts could come to mind, still annoying though.  And has a mullet, so that takes away points.

He walked back to the Science building, Matt and Pidge and Hunk already gone inside the building.  The doors swung behind him softly as he went into his class, definitely not thinking about that mullet.

Class went by smoothly, for the most part. He didn’t exactly pay attention, but since when did he?  And when asked by Hunk why he was not paying attention, he didn’t bother to tell why. Because he definitely wasn’t thinking about an annoying mullet-headed hot motorcycle-riding new-friend(?).  Definitely not.

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He definitely was.

Chapter Text

Hey guys,  Sorry, to like the17 people reading this, but its not an update.

Schools kinda hectic, and I don't think I'll be able to post for a while.  My laptop broke, and I'm getting a new one soon, so once I get it, I'll just take down this authors note and post the new chapter.  It's halfway done, and it's taking a while longer than expected, but I'm really trying my hardest to get it up and make sure its good and all the plot is going to flow together and its ready for everyone.  Sorry for the delay, I'l try and have it up as soon as possible. 

Basically, this book is on hiatus, until I figure out my life and get my shit together.

see u soon xoxo