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Keith has felt the familiar weariness settling back into his bones slowly over the past couple weeks. He’s ignored it of course, opting to drag himself out of bed every morning and to every one of his classes, trying to hide the bags under his eyes and the tiredness behind his smile. He brushes off his friend’s questions and concerns, making up excuses to get him out of hanging out with them.
He drags himself from class to class every day, knowing that if he doesn’t stick to his regular schedule he’ll spend days in bed. Shiro is out on a trip until next week, so the apartment is strangely empty. He feels a bit empty himself. Numb. Like he’s a ghost following his own body around, a spectator in his own life. He sits through all his lectures, barely absorbing anything his professors are saying.
This goes on for a couple more weeks, exhaustion building up inside him, acting like weights on his shoulders. He stumbles into his apartment on Friday after brushing off another one of Lance’s invites for drinks. He knows his friends (and boyfriend) are worried, but he’s too tired to care.
Collapsing on his bed, he strips down to his boxers and shuffles under the covers, despite it being only 7pm. He lays there, drifting between wakefulness and sleep until his grumbling stomach rouses him at around 10 and he slumps to the kitchen to heat up some instant ramen. He eats it in his room while scrolling mindlessly through his phone, seeing his friend’s stories on snapchat. They’re all drinking and laughing together. They don’t even miss you . A traitorous voice in his mind whispers. Look at them. They’re so much happier without you.
He sets his phone and half finished ramen down with a sigh and curls up in bed again, trying to quiet his raging thoughts. He knows he’s falling back into habits he thought he’d gotten rid of years ago. Self deprecating thoughts. Self isolation. Dissociating. He traces the faint scars on his arms, wondering if he’d be desperate enough to resort to cutting again. He knows he should probably tell someone. He’s been taking his meds of course, but he’s still relapsing. He wonders if there’ll be anyone who cares enough to catch him when he falls.
He drifts off to sleep.
__
Keith blinks the sleep out of his eyes, slowly coming to his senses. For once he can actually sleep in, which is a huge relief considering the fact that he probably wouldn't have had the strength to get up anyway. He glances at the clock which reads 11:39 am. Reaching out for his phone, he opens it to see a few messages from Lance.
Today, 10:45 am
Lance: u down 2 hang at me ‘n hunk’s dorm? We got the new voltron update!!
Lance: unless ur too chicken ;)
Lance: u already know im gonna beat ur ass
Keith stares at the messages for a second before clicking his phone off and shutting his eyes again, not really wanting to see anyone right now. He figures a day in bed and tomorrow he can hang out with them, apologise for avoiding them. They didn’t even notice you were gone , the voice whispers again, making him grit his teeth and pull the covers back over himself.
He wakes up again at one, reheating the ramen he’d left out last night and ignoring the texts that keep coming in. He lays in bed and scrolls through instagram for a bit before just laying there and staring at the ceiling. He feels miserable. There isn’t anything wrong that he can pinpoint, he just feels off. He wants to float away. He doesn’t want to think about anything. Not school or his friends or Lance or anything he’d regularly enjoy.
Finally tired of his room, he migrates to the couch and half pays attention to whatever show is playing. He sits there until it’s dark out, which he decides is not a good thing because it always gets worse at night. He moves back to his bed, trying to fall asleep before he can spiral too far.
Why am I not strong enough to get myself out of this?
I was better. I don’t want to deal with this shit.
Why can’t I just be happy?
Growling in frustration, he realizes he’s not going to be able to sleep anytime soon. He moves to the edge of his bed, his feet planted on the floor, and sits with his head in his hands. A sudden burst of frustration and anger expands in his chest and he feels tears beginning to form in his eyes. He squeezes them shut, letting out a harsh breath. Standing up, his fists clenched at his sides, his mind screams at him.
You piece of shit. You have everything you’ve ever wanted. You’re so ungrateful. Be happy with what you have.
You don’t deserve anything you’ve gotten. You’re just going to fuck it up like you always do. Push them away before they reject you.
His hands slide into his hair, gripping at his scalp, trying to stay grounded. He tastes salt, presumably from the tears that have started falling. All at once, he lets go, standing up straight. His eyes lock onto the first thing they see. A framed picture of him and Lance on their second date. Without a second thought, he hurls it at the wall, barely hearing the shattering of glass behind him.
He grabs his desk chair next, throwing it at his door as hard as he can. He stands there, panting, tears running down his face. And just like that, the energy drains out of him and he slumps on to the floor, curling up in a ball and pressing his knees to his face. He finally allows himself to really cry, quiet and broken sobs slipping out of his mouth.
When he’s all cried out, he manages to pull himself back onto his bed and curl up under the sheets. He falls asleep quickly, slipping into sweet unconsciousness.
__
He wakes to soft knocking on his door.
“Keith?” a muffled voice travels through the door.
Oh, it’s Lance. The still asleep part of him thinks cheerily.
OH SHIT, IT’S LANCE.
Keith’s eyes fly open, and his brain is immediately working to find ways to get out of this. Should I pretend to be asleep? Get up and force him out? How did he even get into the apartment?
His answer comes through the door.
“Keith, it’s Lance. Uh, Shiro told me where the spare key was. I wanted to check on you. Are you awake?”
Keith grits his teeth. He doesn't want Lance to see him like this. At his lowest. He’ll be cleaned up by Monday and no one will ever have to know what happened. Lance has other ideas.
“Keith, I’m coming in, ok?”
No.
“Lance,” he croaks, his voice scratchy. “Don’t come in. I’m fine, ok? Just tired. You don’t have to babysit me.”
Lance’s confusion is audible even through the door. “Keith, you don’t sound fine. And I’m not babysitting you, I’m just worried! It’s my job to worry about you.”
Keith curls in on himself.
He’s going to see what a mess you are. He’ll be disgusted. He’ll leave just like everyone else.
The hinges on the door creak quietly as Lance peeks in. Luckily, Keith is facing the wall, his back to the door, so Lance can only see his back.
“Keith? If- oh god, what happened?”
Oh yeah. He’d forgotten about the mess he made last night. There’s probably glass all over the floor.
“Hold on. Hold on for one second I’m gonna go put my shoes back on.” He sounds panicked as he makes his way back to the front door, which is exactly what Keith was trying to avoid. He doesn’t want Lance to have to worry about him.
He winces and curls into an even tighter ball of misery, squeezing his eyes shut as he hears Lance’s shoes crunching on the glass splintered all over his room. He thinks maybe if he ignores Lance hard enough, he’ll leave.
He feels the bed sink behind him with Lance’s weight and he holds his breath, ready for Lance to be annoyed or mad. I’m so pathetic , he thinks miserably.
“Hey,” Lance whispers softly, placing his hand on his shoulder carefully. “Keith, what happened? What’s wrong?”
You can’t see me like this. I’m pathetic. You have to leave, he thinks. Nothing comes out of his mouth.
“Keith, you can tell me anything. We can get through it together, ok?”
You’ll get tired of dealing with my shit. Of me. No one ever stays.
“Keith….”
There it is. He’s going to give up and leave and Keith can finally wallow in peace. Lance does not leave. Instead, he combs a gentle hand through Keith’s knotted hair and starts humming a song Keith doesn’t know. Keith frowns in confusion, though Lance doesn’t see it. His hair is completely disheveled, not to mention really greasy. Keith wouldn’t even touch it. But Lance continues, pleasant tingles running down Keith’s spine and Lance’s nails carefully rake against his scalp.
He finally relaxes into Lance’s ministrations, feeling tears pricking at his eyes again, much to his frustration. He doesn’t deserve a boyfriend like Lance. His shoulders shake as he tries to hold in his sobs.
“Keith? Oh, Keith.”
Pity. He pities you.
But Keith ignores the stupid voice, finally rolling over so he’s facing Lance. He lets Lance shift them into a more comfortable position, with Lance leaning against the headboard and Keith on his lap, his head buried in the crook of Lance’s neck as he cries. Lance continues to comb a hand through his hair, whispering comforts into Keith’s ear and rocking them slowly from side to side.
Keith clutches at Lance’s shirt, hiding his face in embarrassment for a few minutes after he stops crying.
“Sorry,” he mumbles against Lance’s collarbone.
Lance’s humming ceases. “What’re you sorry for?”
Keith pulls back, using the hem of his shirt to wipe off Lance’s neck, then scoots off of Lance’s lap, sitting with his back to the wall and his knees pulled up to his chest. “For avoiding you. And ignoring you. And crying on you.”
Lance laughs softly. “You’re forgiven. You wanna tell me why though? He asks tentatively. Keith rests his chin on his knees, staring at his bedsheets.
“I just- I’m, I think-”
“Hey, you don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready, ok? I just want to help.”
“I’m… relapsing, I think.” he mutters quietly.
“You’re- oh. Oh, Keith.”
Lance leans forward to cradle Keith’s face with his hands. He lets his knees slide down so Lance can pull him into a hug.
“I’m sorry,” he mutters again. Lance pulls back frowning.
“Don’t be. It’s not your fault, ok?” Keith nods hesitantly. “Ok.” Lance whispers again. Keith’s stomach interrupts with a growl. Lance raises an eyebrow. “Have you eaten anything today?” Keith shakes his head. His boyfriend hums, a small smile lighting up his face. “Then you’re about to experience the best huevos rancheros of your life.”
Lance cooks him breakfast/brunch (it’s 1pm) and cleans up Keith’s room (after a few small protests) while he eats. Then he takes a much needed shower, feeling more refreshed than he has in forever. Lance is waiting for him on the couch when he finishes.
“Feeling better?” he asks. Keith gives him a small smile.
“Yeah.” He takes a seat next to Lance on the couch resting his head on Lance’s shoulder. “Thank you, Lance.” He says softly.
Lance turns to him, smiling fondly, and brushes the hair out of his eyes, moving his hand down to cup his face and bring him in for a sweet kiss.
“Of course. I want to take care of you, ok? I’m not going anywhere.”
“Ok,” Keith whispers back, closing the distance between them again.
__
With a bit of prompting from Lance, Keith sets up an appointment with his psychiatrist. He’s informed that it’s not uncommon for there to be bumps in the road to recovery, and that it’s nothing to be ashamed of.
Lance goes with him to pick up his new prescription, later taking him out on a date at his favorite Japanese restaurant. He drives Keith home, both of them full and happy. He stays with Keith while Shiro is gone, and he discovers that cuddling is a very effective method of keeping the Bad Thoughts away.
Lance is admittedly a bit disappointed when Shiro gets back and he has to go back to living in the dorms. They still see eachother every day.
Of course, there are many days where Keith can’t find it in himself to get out of bed, or day when the thoughts in his head are all screaming, talking over each other and he spirals. But there’s always someone there, Lance or Shiro helping him through it more often than not.
He still feels guilty sometimes, that they have to deal with so much drama on his part, but Lance knows how to rid him of those thoughts.
So things are ok.