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“Guys, I really can’t take another shot.” Keith grumbled, rubbing a hand down his face, the movement clumsy. There was a smile hidden behind his palm -- the giggly, gentle one that Lance rarely saw. “I have to be at the airport at 6 am.”
Pidge’s grin only took on a mischievous glint as she tipped the last of the bottle into the fifth shot glass. “We just finished finals, Keith.”
“Yeah! We’re celebrating, dude,” Lance chuckled as he picked up his glass, sticky from where alcohol splashed over the sides. He held up the shot glass in the beginnings of a toast.
Keith’s gaze shifted to Shiro, expecting the (usually sober) senior to be on his side, but he only shrugged. Shiro’s eyes were glossy as he raised his hand up high for the toast. “You have all break to recover, Keith.”
“Shiro--”
“You heard the man,” Lance laughed, raising his shot glass higher until Keith groaned and grabbed his own off the table, spilling the excess across the already-sticky surface. “To being done with finals and starting Christmas break!”
“Cheers!” Everyone echoed, tapping the table and knocking the shot back.
The alcohol burned down Lance’s throat, dimmed significantly from the beginning of the night. Smacking the glass down on the table, Lance coughed under his breath as bile stung. A buzz burned through his chest and sung in the tips of his fingers. He glanced around the room, eyes catching on the way Keith swayed into Shiro’s firm shoulder.
Hunk gently placed his hand on the table and hunched his shoulders. There was a distinct lack of color to his copper skin. One hand pressed against his lips and before anyone could speak, Hunk said, “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Hunk,” Lance called as his best friend sprinted to the bathroom. The splash of vomit in the toilet followed soon after. Lance couldn’t stop his cringe at the sound, remembering the way that his stomach had protested that last shot.
Maybe he should’ve have had so much to drink.
Keith fell further against Shiro. “I told you so--”
“Shut up,” Lance muttered and started to get to his feet, but Pidge beat him to it.
After walking to the kitchen and grabbing a glass of water, she patted Lance’s head. “You got him last time, so I’ll take care of him.”
“Remind me why we let him drink when he throws up every time.” Lance shook his head, ignoring the way the room spun with the movement and the unsteadiness of his perch on the arm of the couch.
Before Pidge could answer, a groan echoed from the bathroom. She gave Lance a weak smile and joking salute before joining Hunk in the bathroom.
Silence settled comfortably between the three of them as Shiro played on his phone and Keith’s eyes struggled to stay open. His black bangs dipped into his eyes, and there was a softness to his expression that Lance rarely saw. Keith normally kept a scowl fixed on his features, barely even allowing himself to smile or laugh, but leaning into Shiro’s shoulder now, he looked so vulnerable. His hair was curling at the edges, still drying from his shower only a couple hours earlier.
Lance couldn’t fight the longing that ached in his chest. He wanted to be the one that Keith was leaning on. Wanted to press his face into Keith’s delicate neck, smell his shampoo, and taste the alcohol lingering on his lips.
Instead Lance slumped back against the couch and kicked his feet up on the alcohol-stained coffee table. The sound of his heels hitting the wood drew Keith’s eyes upward to him.
“So,” Lance drawled, the words feeling thick in his throat, stumbling and weirdly shaped by his numb tongue, “why’d you need to leave at 6 am?”
“My mom’s newest photography job is in South Korea, so I’m going along as a Christmas present. And of course, the cheapest flights are at the crack of dawn. But I’ll get to see my grandparents so that’s exciting.” Keith shifted so he was no longer leaning against Shiro, but his body swayed to an unknown rhythm, as if he was struggling to stay awake in this alcohol-induced haze. Since Keith was sitting on the floor, Lance was a little worried he would just collapse the rest of the way to the carpet.
With a groan, Shiro shifted and plopped an elbow on the coffee table to prop up his head. “Isn’t this the first time you’re meeting them?”
Keith nodded, and he looked like he was going to fall over with the subtle motion.
Lance patted the couch next to him. “Come sit over here, mullet. You look like you’re about to pass out.”
With a small smile, Keith rose unsteadily from the floor before collapsing on the couch next to Lance. He was close enough that Lance could feel his warmth and smell the scent of vodka on his breath as he spoke, “Yeah. It’s--”
“Wait, wait,” Lance waved his hand, suddenly overcome with the realization, “you’re getting on a ten hour flight hungover?”
Keith curled deeper into the couch as if all of his muscles had relaxed at the realization. “It’s a thirteen hour flight. But I wanted to be in South Korea before my mom’s job, because otherwise I would’ve had to wait four more days to join her. And I wasn’t expecting to drink my ass off the night before.” His gaze was as pointed as it could be with unfocused pupils.
Lance shrugged and fought a small smile. Leaning forward, he patted Keith’s thigh and said, “Come on. You love us.”
It wasn’t until Keith shifted forward to playfully poke at Lance’s cheek that Lance realized his hand still lingered on Keith’s leg, enjoying the way the muscles coiled under his palm and the heat that was muted between the layer of Keith’s jeans. He tightened his grip before being distracted by Keith’s finger poking into his cheek.
“You guys are like parasites. I don’t love any of you,” Keith grumbled, but there was a fond playfulness saturating his tone.
Lance grabbed Keith’s hand before it could poke his other cheek. He fought the instinct to press a kiss to the faded leather of Keith’s gloves, to see what the heat of his skin felt like, to taste him in any way possible.
As if pulled by gravity, Lance swayed closer, stitching up the distance between them and tightening his grip on Keith’s warm thigh. He could’ve sworn the muscles jumped under his touch.
At this distance, Keith was even more beautiful with stormy grey eyes almost hidden under lidded eyelids and sooty lashes. A lock of hair dangled in his gaze, and Lance wanted to brush it behind his ear -- to run his fingers through Keith’s hair and tie it back like he’d watched him do so many times before.
If he breathed deeply, Lance swore that their chests would brush.
So close that if Lance leaned forward, he could finally kiss Keith.
“Ew,” Pidge’s voice was like a knife through whatever pleasant buzz had surrounded them, a bubble of their own creation. “I come out here to get Hunk more water, and I see more things that make me wanna puke.”
“Pidge!” Lance gasped and pulled back from Keith on instinct. He already missed the heat of Keith’s skin as he fought the flush that crawled up his neck and burned the tips of his ears.
Pidge and Hunk had guessed his devastating crush on Keith at the beginning of freshman year, despite all of Lance’s protests. With twin mischievous grins, they had been set on inviting Keith into their friend group. But now that it was the middle of sophomore year and Keith and Lance were no closer to romance, they’d only gotten more insistent that Lance confess.
She raised a single eyebrow, and Lance could’ve been black out drunk and still recognized the subtext to her skepticism.
“You’re exaggerating, Pidge. You hate all signs of friendship, and, I mean, Shiro didn’t say anything.” Lance couldn’t stifle the flustered nature to his voice as he motioned to Shiro.
It was only then when he had turned his gaze onto the senior did he realize the boy had fallen asleep against the coffee table. His lips were parted and a string of drool dripped down the corner of his mouth.
Before Lance could think of another argument, Pidge rolled her eyes and left the room with another glass of water.
A flash of light snapped Lance’s attention back to the two boys beside him. Keith was leaning forward and pointing his phone camera at Shiro, snickering under his breath. He took another picture before slumping back into the couch.
Gazing over his phone, Keith smirked at Lance. “Adam is going to love these.”
“Shiro is going to kill you,” Lance mumbled, kicking off his shoes and pulling his legs up on the couch.
“As Pidge always says, you can never have too much blackmail material.” Keith shrugged, and there was a light to his eyes that Lance was determined to see everyday.
The look was so startlingly different from the ones Keith gave him a year and a half ago. There had been a distance that Lance had slowly been closing, desperate to be close to Keith, desperate to be more than classmates, more than friends, more than best friends.
He always felt so desperate around Keith.
“Are you nervous to meet your grandparents?” Lance asked, fighting to stop the dangerous train of thought his mind was quickly traipsing down. He was already instinctively pushing into Keith’s space, longing to be closer, to once again be close enough to kiss him. “I mean, did they know about you before you met Krolia last year?”
Keith didn’t seem off put by Lance’s closeness, instead he slumped his head against Lance’s shoulder. The movement was anything but calculated as he collapsed all of his weight on Lance and forced them down until they were laying beside each other on the couch.
Lance propped one hand under his head, unwilling to trust his hands against Keith’s warm body.
Squeezing his eyes closed, Lance relished in the subtle scent of Keith’s shampoo, musk and twilight and cedar. Lance wanted to lick the excess alcohol from Keith’s lips, from his tongue, from the front of his shirt where he’d spilled earlier. He wanted to brush the bangs out of his eyes and feel the full force of Keith’s attention on him.
He was so pathetically desperate.
Settling his other hand on his own hip, Lance fought the temptation to pull Keith more fully against his side, as if the areas where Keith was pressed weren’t already alight -- searing into his memory like a fantasy for another night.
“Yeah, they supposedly were the ones that advocated for adoption since my mom was ‘too young’ to have me.” Keith closed his eyes and scrubbed at them with the base of his palms. His hands settled between them, and Lance swore he could feel every brush of Keith’s fingertips like a shot of electricity through his body.
“Your own grandparents? Do you -- I just, uh, I don’t know if I -- do you--” Lance stumbled over the words, too late to pull back the invasive thought, so the unfinished sentiment burned between them.
“Blame them?” Keith sighed, shoulders slumping deeper into the back of the couch. “I don’t -- I don’t know. It’s kind of hard to view my mom as a person herself and not just my mother, you know? I was so angry all of last year, and I can’t say that I’m not still upset, but --” Keith seemed to catch himself too late.
It seemed that they were both a little too loose-lipped when drunk.
“What’re you doing for the holidays?” Keith asked instead of diving back into the topic of his family. “Isn’t your family really into Christmas?”
“Hunk and I are driving back Sunday morning. It’s only like a seven hour drive to San Diego, so it wasn’t worth it to buy a plane ticket. But I don’t think we’re doing anything special, just the usual Christmas stuff.” Lance shrugged, but Keith’s gaze was imploring and he leaned forward, interested to hear what else Lance had to say. Stifling a gasp, Lance inhaled the scent of Keith’s shampoo and felt drunk off of Keith rather than the alcohol that burned in his bloodstream.
Taking the hand off his hip, Lance ran it through his hair, nervous under Keith’s intense gaze. “We’re going to decorate the tree --”
“Real?”
“Nah, it’s a fake one. Veronica went on a rant a couple years ago about reusable Christmas trees and threatened to burn our real one to the ground, so now we use a fake one. But it’s still pretty nice. My mom lights some pine scented candles so we get the full effect Christmas day.
“And then we’ll probably help Nadia and Sylvio decorate gingerbread houses. Oh, we might also go caroling if Rachel got the group together this year. And, well,” Lance felt himself rambling, but Keith’s interested hadn’t waned. And it felt like it was just them on this small couch. The rest of the world was quiet, distant.
So he continued.
Keith hummed in agreement, but his eyes started to drift closed. And Lance couldn’t fight off the bone-deep exhaustion that had lingered with him since the start of finals week.
Without thought, he brushed a strand of Keith’s hair behind his ear. Keith’s eyes snapped open at the motion, and whatever lingering buzz dissipated. His gaze was the most focused that Lance had seen all night, stormy and gun-metal grey.
Lance swallowed hard, ready for Keith to bite his fingers off -- he’d seen Keith snap ferociously at unwanted advances before, always seething and gnashing.
Instead, Keith nuzzled into Lance’s touch, closing his eyes and humming in contentment.
Exhaling slowly, Lance traced his fingers through Keith’s hair, watching him melt into the sofa with each touch.
It was just as soft as Lance imagined, and he gently worked through the knots at the ends of the longer strands. His hand sunk lower, playing with the tendrils at the back of Keith’s neck and relishing in the heat of his skin against his palm.
Keith hummed again, eyes still closed and breathing steady, on the verge of sleep. “Love you,” Keith breathed.
“What?” Lance gasped, fingertips freezing in Keith’s hair. He swore his heart stopped in his chest only to jump start seconds later. His hand tightened in Keith’s hair as his breath stilled in his lungs. “Keith, what--”
Keith’s eyes opened, a stormy grey that appeared almost violet in the Christmas lights Lance had strung up above the couch weeks ago. “I love you, Lance.”
But before Lance could say anything back, confess the all-consuming feelings that he’d kept so close to his heart, Keith shut his eyes and fell asleep. Each breath steady as if Keith was in time with Lance’s rapidly beating heart.
“Keith.” Lance shook the boy’s shoulders, so desperate to hear more, so desperate for this not to be some drunken confession that Keith would never remember, so desperate for this to be real. “Keith, wake up.”
But Keith didn’t wake. He only slept on, curling into Lance’s chest like he belonged there.
Lance thought he would never sleep, especially with Keith pressed to his side. But when the adrenaline drained from his system, leaving only vestiges of alcohol, Lance was powerless to resist.
☆☆☆☆☆
Lance woke to a chill, a shiver traversing the length of his spine. When he reached out, he only met the cold fabric of the couch.
Groaning, Lance rolled over and plucked his phone from the coffee table. He squinted against the harsh sunlight that shone through the living room windows. His head pounded, and there was a clawing nausea that threatened to take a turn for the worse if he moved too quickly.
Glancing around the room, Lance found himself alone. Shiro had probably woken up hours ago to sleep somewhere more comfortable than slumped over the coffee table. After glancing at his phone, Lance realized it was nine in the morning, and Keith must’ve left to catch his plane.
At the thought of Keith, Lance’s lungs filled with helium.
Had last night been real?
Had Keith really confessed?
Lance quickly went to his messages, desperate to text Keith for an answer, desperate to confirm that all his hopes were coming to fruition. Instead, he was met with a message from Keith in their group chat.
To: The Paladudes
Keith [6:37AM]
Just boarded the plane
I made it just in time, no thanks to you guys
I smell like the bathroom from a club and the person next to me is giving me the worst looks
So thanks.
Keith [6:40AM]
Oh, btw I won’t have any service in South Korea, so an early happy hanukkah and merry christmas and new years and all that junk
Lance collapsed back on the couch with a muttered, “Fuck.”
☆☆☆☆☆
Normally Lance’s favorite holiday was Christmas. Something changed in the air around the holidays, like the house felt warmer or each moment was a little brighter.
But Keith’s confession hung like a cloud of unresolved tension in his stomach, charged with electricity and ready to strike. Lance fumbled with his phone, desperate for information, for Keith to learn how to message back on Facebook or instagram -- because just because he didn’t have service didn’t mean there wasn’t internet. This wasn’t the stone age!
Lance’s phone felt like a lead weight in his pocket, dragging him down fathoms below and no matter how he struggled, he couldn’t break through the surface.
Veronica was the first to notice his lack of enthusiasm for the upcoming holidays.
Nadia and Sylvio were stringing up ornaments as Marco watched with a steady gaze. An early dusk steeped the room in gentle light, and the colorful hues of the lights around the tree saturated the walls and his family’s smiles.
Veronica settled on the couch next to him, drawing his gaze from his phone -- screen black and settled heavy in his hands. She pressed a cup of hot chocolate into his palms and gave him a wry smile. “What’s on your mind?”
“Nothing,” Lance grumbled, tucking his phone into his pocket and sipping on the warm beverage. The copious amounts of sugar tingled his tongue as he slumped back into the couch.
“It really looks like nothing.” Veronica’s tone was sarcastic, and Lance could practically hear her roll her eyes.
Lance mumbled into his cup as the words left his lips in a rush. “Well, it’ll probably amount to nothing. It didn’t mean anything.”
He’d been so desperate to talk about it, to describe the glint in Keith’s eyes or the softness to his voice as he confessed. Wrap the moment up in gift wrap and open it Christmas morning. Treasure the delicate curve to Keith’s lips, the lingering smell of alcohol on his breath, the heat of their bodies pressed together on that couch.
“I mean, it’s not like he’ll remember it,” Lance whispered under his breath, but Veronica turned to face him on that muted admonition.
“Did something happen with Keith?”
“What?” Lance jumped almost spilling hot chocolate all over his hands. He snapped his eyes to Veronica, taking in the victorious curl to her lips and the knowing glint to her gaze. “Why -- why would you say that?”
“Lance, you’ve had crushes since you were in kindergarten. I can tell when you like someone, and damn, have you been pining over Keith for forever.” Lance parted his lips to say something, but Veronica continued, stealing his voice with purely stated truths. “Like I thought it was bad when you were ‘rivals,’ but when you guys became friends, you became disgusting --”
“Hey--”
“You literally would never stop talking about him. And I swear that if I flipped through your notebooks, I’d find Keith’s name in hearts in all the margins.” She raised her mug as if congratulating herself before taking another sip.
Lance curled into the couch, turning his attention back to Nadia and Sylvio who were currently fighting for the small step ladder while Marco knelt between them, explaining sharing once again. Rachel stepped into the living room with a tray of cookies, and the ornaments and ladder were immediately forgotten as Nadia and Sylvio ran to her side.
He couldn’t fight his smile as he watched his family. Admonishing himself, Lance struggled to settle back into the comfortable air of the holidays, but Veronica brought him right back to Keith.
“So, what happened? You guys finally hook up or something?”
“No, it wasn’t like that.” Lance sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Curling his knees to his chest, Lance regretted his initial desire to speak about this, because what if he jinxed it. Told Veronica his wish before it really came true, and he lost it all?
He balanced his mug on his kneecap and hoped Veronica would take the sudden silence as a hint.
But it seemed that none of the McClains were subtle. She bumped his shoulder, threatening to spill hot chocolate all over him. When he gave her an affronted look, she merely raised an eyebrow in question.
Sighing, Lance mumbled, “We were drinking, and -- and he confessed.”
“So you’re dating?”
“No, and that’s the worst part.” Lance groaned and tipped his head back so he was staring at the ceiling. “He left for Korea that next morning before we could talk. And he doesn’t have service, and he won’t answer any of my social media messages, and I’m dying here. Because -- because what if it was a mistake? What if he thought I was someone else? What if he didn’t really mean it?”
Lance could feel himself getting hysterical, but he couldn’t stop the torrent of emotions that welled up within him.
Veronica’s arm settled around his shoulders and tugged him firmly against her side. “Do you really think that?”
“Well, yeah. Maybe. I don’t know,” Lance groaned, but the sound of Keith’s raspy voice, slurred with alcohol and sleep, echoed in his mind.
I love you, Lance.
Maybe it wasn’t too far-fetched to have a little hope.
☆☆☆☆☆
To: The Paladudes
Lance [12:01AM]
Merry Christmas!!
Hunk [12:02AM]
Merry Christmas! I love you all so much and I’m so grateful to have all of you in my life <3
Lance [12:02AM]
Awwww Hunk! I love you too, dude <3
Shiro [6:05AM]
Merry Christmas everyone!
Allura [6:07AM]
Wow Shiro, you’re up early. It’s already midday in England
Also, Merry Christmas to everyone <3
Shiro [6:11AM]
Adam’s nieces jumped on everyone’s beds to wake us up at the crack of dawn because Santa came
I know Santa came
I am Santa
I stayed up until 4 am to wrap all of the presents and be Santa
Allura [6:15AM]
Hopefully you’ll get to take a nap later in the day after all the presents are open!
Shiro [6:17AM]
I hope so. I hope so.
Pidge [9:21AM]
I can’t believe Shiro ruined the magic of Santa T~T
Wow, I didn’t know that Shiro would take up the mantle as resistant emo, bad boy with Keith on vacation
Also have a merry christmas
I’m going to the movies to meet with all the other Jewish, atheist, and agnostic people
Lance [11:44AM]
Merry Christmas, you filthy animals
Hunk [11:45AM]
Did you just quote Home Alone??
Lance [11:58AM]
It’s a Christmas classic!
☆☆☆☆☆
Lance had never been so excited to return to school. His three week break had never felt so excruciatingly long. He practically vibrated in the front seat of Hunk’s car, inhaling the smells of left-over cookies and pine-scented candles. Energy danced along his legs, and he was practically bouncing around in his seat the second they got on the road.
“Everything okay, dude?” Hunk glanced out of the corner of his eye and watched the way Lance stilled at his question.
“Of course. It’s not wrong to be excited to get back to school, right?” Lance floundered around the question, waving his hands -- one still holding onto his phone, because if he hadn’t let it go all break, he sure as hell wasn’t going to put it down on the day Keith got back.
Hunk merely hummed in response, not believing a word Lance said. Lance turned up the radio which was still playing Christmas music and hoped that would be enough to distract Hunk from asking more questions.
Scrolling through his phone, Lance couldn’t fight the urge to look through his texts to Keith.
To: Mullet <3
December 12
Lance [9:07AM]
Have a safe flight! Text me when you land in three weeks :)
Today
Lance [7:43AM]
Hey Keith! I know you’re supposed to get in today, so I was hoping we could grab food or something and catch up. I wanna hear all about South Korea!!
“Okay, but what’s actually going on?” Hunk asked, shocking Lance out of his thoughts. “You normally cry when we leave your family--”
“Do not!”
“Do too! You just think you’re good at hiding it.” Hunk’s hands tensed on the steering wheel.
Lance crossed his hands, but before he could say anything, his phone buzzed. Jumping to answer it, Lance fumbled with his phone only to see a message from Pidge.
To Paladudes:
Pidge [8:33AM]
We all down for family dinner? For some reason, I miss you guys.
He sighed, typing out a response and ignoring the mounting tension in the car.
Lance [8:34AM]
Dinner sounds fantastic! How about Vrepit Sal’s at like 6??
“That’s exactly what I mean,” Hunk huffed. “Are you waiting for someone to text you?”
Lance floundered for a response, but he couldn’t think of anything that didn’t sound absolutely pathetic. So he opted to cross his arms and slump further down in his seat.
“Wait, really?” Hunk’s expression was verging on extatic, and he kept glancing over at Lance. His best friend sat up a little straighter, and sucked his bottom lip between his teeth as if that could hold back the smile curling at the corner of his lips.
“Keep your eyes on the road or I won’t tell you anything!”
“So you are waiting for someone to text you?!” Hunk practically giggled, leaning over the steering wheel and buzzing with excitement. “Who is it? Jenny Shaebon? Nyma? Kevin? Lillian?”
Lance tried to hide the rush of blush on his cheeks and Hunk’s rapid fire guessing. “No, I haven’t talked to any of them since before finals. And it’s not like any of them really mattered,” he mumbled the last part under his breath, hoping that Hunk wouldn’t hear the admittance.
But it wasn’t like Hunk hadn’t heard Lance’s late night serenades about Keith -- the monologues starting off tinged with so much irritation and hate, but slowly, they turned into something much softer, the complaints sounding like this:
“So it turns out that Keith’s gloves aren’t just because he has terrible fashion sense. He rides a motorcycle, which is terrible vehicle sense, but that’s another issue.”
“Keith told me he doesn’t use conditioner. Is he a heathen? How does his hair look so soft without conditioner, Hunk? What two in one shit is he using?”
“Of course, Keith got a 95% on the last test when the average was a 64%. But he did offer to share his notes, so I’m heading off to the library to study. With him.”
“Keith brought me coffee at the library today. He got me black coffee, and I had to drink the whole thing, because he kept looking at me with these puppy-dog eyes and I swear to god.”
“Hunk, did you know that Keith works out almost every morning? He’s arms are like pure muscle.”
“I think Keith is trying to poison me. This is the third time he’s brought me black coffee.”
Hunk’s voice snapped him out of his dizzying memories of Keith, “Wait, did something happen between you and Keith?”
Lance couldn’t stop the way his gaze jumped to Hunk. His best friend glanced out of the corner of his eye before his smile turned mischievous. Slumping lower in his seat, Lance grumbled, “It didn’t mean anything.”
“It obviously meant something, Lance.”
“No, it didn’t. You don’t have any proof.” Lance felt like a child fighting against his parents, using illogical comebacks and arguments to win his point. Because it wasn’t like Lance wanted to review the pros and cons list he’d mentally compiled every single night since.
“Lance, you talk about everything,” Hunk rebutted with a softness to his voice that held no hint of condemnation.
But Lance couldn’t stop his flinch at the sentiment.
He’d always been too much. Talked too much. Laughed too loud. Too boisterous and bright and daring and excitable and just too much.
Somehow it became another reason why Lance loved Keith, because he never felt like too much around him. Every moment Lance realized he was talking too fast or loud or excited, he would cringe and look at Keith, expecting to see glossy eyes and a disinterested smile. But Keith always listened, quiet and calm like leagues out on the ocean.
It was the first moment where Lance thought that maybe he wasn’t too much.
Lance glanced at Hunk, realizing that his friend hadn’t mentioned his continuous talking as a negative point of view, only to reiterate his point.
“It’s just,” Hunk continued with a sigh, “if it’s something really important, you tend not to talk about it. But you know that you can talk to me about anything, right?”
“Of course! It’s just -- I didn’t know how to talk about it. It still doesn’t feel real.”
Hunk nodded, not saying anything over the hum of Christmas music playing on the radio. The cheery tunes did nothing calm Lance’s nerves or the anticipation that was thrumming in his veins.
“When we had the party after finals and you were throwing up in the toilet, uh, well, Keith and I ended up talking and just before he fell asleep, he said he loved me,” Lance whispered the last part as if that would stop the fragile words from crackling in the air between them. Before Hunk could say anything else, Lance rushed to contradict the actions with every single doubt he’d thought of since the day three weeks ago, “But we were all really drunk, so he probably didn’t even know what he was saying. And I mean, maybe he just meant it like best friends do, you know? Doesn’t mean he like loves me loves me, right?”
Thankfully Hunk attempted to stay calm when addressing all of Lance’s worries. But he could see the excitement in Hunk’s tapping fingers and the way he was actually going slightly over the speed limit rather than staying exactly at the designated number.
Lance was relieved that he told Hunk, and with each possibility they talked about, Lance’s hopes rose -- rose until they were at a precipice. With one word from Keith, Lance would be elated or sent carreening to the ground.
He could only glance at his phone and wait until they pulled back onto campus.
☆☆☆☆☆
To Paladudes:
Keith [3:26PM]
Just landed! Dinner at Vrepit Sal’s sounds perfect. See you all at 6
To Lance:
Keith [3:29PM]
I know you probably saw it in the group chat, but I just landed. Didn’t know if you wanted to grab coffee or something before Vrepit Sal’s, otherwise I’m good to just hang out with the group at dinner. Let me know before I crash and take a nap though.
Lance [3:30PM]
Glad you landed safely! Hope the flight was good :)
and coffee sounds great
What time is good to meet at the campus starbucks?
Keith [3:37PM]
the flight wasn’t good at all. So when I look like death frozen over, don’t question it haha
and I should be back on campus in about 30.
Starbucks at 4:30?
Lance [3:38PM]
4:30 sounds great!
☆☆☆☆☆
“It’s just Keith. What am I so worried about?” Lance grumbled as he pulled on a different jacket unsure which flattered his figure more. He wished it was summer so that he could wear something he was more confident in rather than all of these layers. The thought of freezing to death to look cute weighed on Lance’s mind before he sighed and pulled on another coat.
Glancing at the clock, Lance realized at this would have to do.
He trudged out of his and Hunk’s apartment. Each footstep ground the excess salt into the sidewalk. It seemed they were expecting a huge snow storm their first week of school, and with Keith back, Lance realized he wasn’t excited to get back to classes -- he’d only wanted to see Keith again, to pin down the fluttering butterflies in his stomach and voice all of the emotions that felt too big for his chest.
The fifteen minute walk to campus seemed to stretch on forever, and no matter how Lance struggled to keep his mind on the podcast he was listening to, he couldn’t help but think of Keith.
Lance pushed through the door to the Starbucks, surprised to see the distinct lack of students crowding the small tables around the shop. On any normal day, it would crawling with study groups and people hunched over their laptops with dread in their eyes. But there was only Keith, seated in the far corner and gazing out the big window.
Keith’s head was propped on his hand, and it was as if Lance had never seen him before. He took in the gentle curve of Keith’s jaw, the way tendrils of his hair fell out of his low ponytail and framed his face, the rosiness to his cheeks from the biting wind outside, the brightness of his eyes when they landed on Lance.
The door slammed shut behind him, the bell jingling above his head and signalling his arrival.
“Lance,” Keith’s voice was warm, a tender thing that Lance wanted to cherish, to run through his mind on repeat.
“Hey man,” Lance walked over and pulled Keith into a hug, fighting off the urge to dip his cheek against Keith’s shoulder -- to settle in for the winter and the coming snow storm. Pulling away from the hug, Lance hoped the blush on his cheeks looked like just the bite of cold wind. “I’m gonna order, what do you want?”
“Oh, I’m fine. I don’t need--”
“Okay, I’ll just order what I know you like.” Lance couldn’t fight his grin at the way Keith’s expression soured at the notion.
Keith crossed his arms and raised a single eyebrow at Lance. “You’re just gonna waste your money if you get me one of those sugary monstrosities you call coffee, Lance.”
And god, there was his name again on Keith’s lips.
Why did it sound so different now?
Was it because he’d heard it in a different context?
“I love you, Lance.”
Lance couldn’t keep the mischievous smile off his face until Keith sighed and said, “Fine. I’ll have a cappuccino.”
Doing nothing to hide his victorious smile, Lance ordered their drinks and brought them to the table. It almost felt like a date.
After giving Keith his drink, Lance pulled off his jacket and slid into the seat across from Keith. The table was small so their knees were almost pressed together, feet brushing in between the legs of the table.
“So, how was South Korea?” Lance clutched his drink as if that would stop his urge to grab Keith’s hand and intertwine their fingers.
“It was beautiful,” Keith breathed, and there was this whimsical glint to his eyes like he’d seen something magical across the globe. Lance understood the sentiment, except he only had to look across from him to see something magical. “We went to Seoraksan National Park and Ganghwado Island, and the typical tourist locations like Seoul Tower and Changdeokgung Palace. It was -- it was amazing.”
Lance nodded, watching the way Keith’s expression shifted as he remembered all of the palaces he visited. Had Keith ever looked so openly excited before? Lance wanted to take a picture, to capture this moment on film rather than just in his memory.
Leaning onto the table and sipping at his drink, Lance asked, “How did visiting your grandparents go?”
“Oh, yeah. It was fine.” Keith shifted in his seat, propping his chin in his hand and gazing back out the window. Whatever reverence his features shown was gone the instant Lance mentioned Keith’s grandparents.
“Really? I know you mentioned you were nervous, and with the history you have with them, I didn’t think it was going to go well.” Lance leaned forward, unable to stop pushing for answers when Keith’s eyes went distant at the mention of his relatives.
Keith’s shoulders hunched. “Oh, you remember that, huh?” The comment was almost inaudible over the sound of the bell signalling another arriving customer. But Lance had heard it. Before he could ask what the hell that meant, Keith said, “Yeah, it kind of sucked. They were nice, but then they started asking about my major and hating on it because I didn’t want to be a doctor or a lawyer. But Krolia told them to lay off, and they were as nice about it as they could be. It was really cool though to learn a lot about Korean traditions. And they invited me back for Seollal so that we could celebrate as a family. Which -- which was really nice even though I probably can’t go because of school, but it’s the thought that counts. So it really was fine.
”But how was your break?” His smile was small before he turned his gaze away from the window.
Lance could feel the reply on his lips, “It was horrible, because I could only think about your whispered confession or the way it felt to fall asleep next to you or the fact that I think I’ve been in love with you since the first moment I saw you.”
Instead, he said, “It was nice.”
Worry flashed across Keith’s features before he attempted to hide it. “You sure?”
“Yeah. Yeah, it was a nice vacation.”
And whatever other lame anecdote or excuse he was going to make, suddenly got caught in his throat at the touch of Keith’s fingers. Keith settled his hand on Lance’s wrist, fingertips cold as they brushed his tender inner wrist and sent shivers up Lance’s spine.
“Are you sure? Normally you love to talk about your family. Is everything okay?” Keith leaned forward as the worry he struggled to hide came back in full force. His brow was furrowed, and he squeezed Lance’s wrist as if that might hold this moment together. “Is everyone alright?”
But Lance couldn’t hold on any longer, couldn’t stay balanced atop this precipice.
“It was really nice, I was just,” he fumbled for the right word, unable to move his hands to think because Keith was still grasping his wrist, “distracted.”
“Distracted? But it’s--”
“Do you remember our finals party?” Lance interrupted, fixing his gaze on the contrast of Keith’s skin against his, porcelain against golden tan.
Keith’s grip lessened as if he was surprised by the question. “Yeah. I barely made it in time for my flight, and I threw up in that airplane toilet. So yeah, I remember.” There was a faux lightness to his voice, a tone that Lance had never heard before.
Glancing up from the table, Lance caught Keith’s gaze. Maybe it was because he’d been memorizing Keith’s features since the day they met, but he could pick out the hidden worry in his expression. The firm line of his lips and the clench of his jaw and the creases at the corners of his eyes.
“Do you remember falling asleep?” His voice was soft, concealed under the soft music that echoed in the Starbucks.
The firmness to Keith’s lips only deepened. “What are you asking, Lance?”
He met Keith’s gaze and whispered, “Do you remember saying you loved me?”
In an instant, Keith was pulling his hand back, retreating to the distant expression Lance first saw on Keith’s features. “Lance, I, uh, I think I need to,” he rose from his seat, leaving his half-finished cappuccino on the table and grabbing his jacket off the back of his seat. “Sorry, something just came up, and I--”
Lance grabbed Keith’s wrist, preventing him from leaving the table -- from running away again. First to South Korea. Now out of his life.
“I love you, Keith,” Lance said, staring up at Keith from his seat at the table, afraid his legs would give out if he put weight on them. His grip was too tight, turning Keith’s skin red under the pressure, but he was terrified Keith would leave, not even hear him out, to let him explain.
He could barely hear anything under the rush of blood in his ears and the rapid gunshot of his heart.
“Lance,” Keith breathed.
“Just let me explain,” Lance tugged him closer, grabbing at Keith’s other hand with desperate fingers. God, he was always so desperate around Keith, desperate for Keith. “You told me you loved me before falling asleep and flying half-way across the world, and I think I’ve been in love with you since the first time we met. You were all I could think about this Christmas, and I don’t want to mess this up, but I love you and I don’t think I can live if you run away from me again.”
He was breathing heavily, holding onto Keith for support.
Keith pulled from his hands, and Lance was desperate to pull him back, to crush Keith to his chest in a hug, but he wouldn’t dare to keep Keith if all of this had just been a misunderstanding.
The cold fingertips touching his cheeks were the only warning Lance had before Keith kissed him. It was like every romantic movie, fireworks and shooting stars and a glorious choir. Rather than falling from the precipice, Lance swore that he ascended to heaven.
Barely pulling back, Keith breathed across his lips, “I do love you, Lance. Oh my god, I love you so much.”
Lance settled his hands on Keith’s hips and tugged him closer for another kiss, tasting the cappuccino on his lips. He couldn’t fight his smile, even as he kissed Keith and indulged in everything he’d been so desperate to do.
☆☆☆☆☆
Their friend group cheered as they walked into Vrepit Sal’s holding hands. Keith pressed his face into Lance’s shoulder to hide his flush or wide smile.
Hunk stood up and hugged them with tears in his eyes while Pidge groaned a loud, “Finally!”
Keith pressed a little closer to Lance, “I told you that texting them would be less embarrassing. We should’ve just gone back to your apartment.”
“Shh, let me show you off,” Lance mumbled against Keith’s hair, practically feeling the heat of Keith’s blush through his jacket. “I’ve been waiting almost two years for this moment.”
“Two years, huh?” Keith’s tone was playful as he finally pulled away from his hiding spot against Lance’s shoulder. The sentiment should’ve made Lance embarrassed -- the fact that he’d been crushing on this boy for as long as he could remember. Instead, it made him grateful for alcohol, late night confessions, and the weight of Keith’s hand in his.
Maybe it wasn’t a Christmas miracle, but damn did it feel like one.