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“Just follow me, I know the area.”
Lance shrunk between his shoulders, the fear trying to make him disappear from there —that horrible place, that constant danger, that attentive gaze.
It had been such a stupid thing, really, but he had been afraid when the woman standing next to him in the subway had leaned over him with weirdly hazed but focused eyes in what he had in his backpack, one of her hands going to her pockets where it seemed she had something that didn’t look nothing alike a cellphone or a wallet. He stormed out of the subway the moment he heard the doors woosh open, noticing how the woman snarled at him when he was out of her reach.
It was until he calmed down a little that he looked the sign with the name of the station he got off on. And, if that wasn’t enough, the train he got off from was the last of the day.
“So?”
Lance swallowed harshly and looked over his shoulder, giving a last glance at the subway entrance and hoping it wasn’t the last time he saw it.
“O-okay.”
He waited for him until Lance reached his side, hands casually in his front pockets and black leather jacket stretch around his arms so perfectly that he didn’t know if he wanted to die in his arms or survive to see them one more time.
“Don’t be so paranoic.”
Lance looked up to his face, getting slightly distracted by the ring on his lip and finding him watching how he hugged his backpack with protective instinct, obviously protecting it from him and the possible passersby that walked around that area of the city.
It was true that his own house wasn’t that far from the limit between Marmora neighborhood and his own, Lions suburb, but people told so many things about this place —the happening assaults every week, the robberies on houses and stores every day, the hints to drugs rings and trafficking, the possible connection to the Galra Empire, mafia of extorsion and kidnapping. It wasn’t a secret that most people avoided that area, even on a car, and that every person that claimed to live there was quickly classified as a delinquent.
That’s why his companion in that moment, Keith Kogane, was always frowned upon by the rest of his classmates, even his friends have kept their distance with him despite having helped them in a project that they thought they wouldn’t get out of alive.
And it wasn’t exactly that he lived in that secluded area, but his appearance and personality weren’t that friendly and amicable, either. But seeing a familiar face after stepping out of the subway station had relieved him a lot.
“I’m serious.”
He flinched, tightening his hold on his backpack, and he sighed.
“Look, if they see you walking around like that, sneaking glances all over the street and being cautious, you’ll attract unwanted attention,” Keith explained with more care than Lance have ever think he would receive from him, “And believe me when I tell you it’s better to go unnoticed.”
Lance swallowed, brow furrowing more when he felt his mouth all dry and his fingers shaking. He saw him arche an eyebrow, pierced with a black ring, and he rushed to nod, letting out a shuddering breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“I don’t see you’re trying,” Keith pointed out when Lance didn’t move a single inch from where he was standing, and then he sighed heavily and started to take off his own backpack, “Give me that.”
Keith took away his backpack and started to push it inside his own, closing the zipper and hanging it over his shoulder.
“I’ll give it back to you when we’re at your street,” he said walking away. He stopped a second later, though, looking over his shoulder to Lance when he stayed standing alone in the middle of the desolated plaza, wondering if he heard wrong or Keith was actually going to escort him home, “Are you staying there or what?”
Lance tripped a bit to go over to Keith, following his steps, and he’s very sure he saw a fleeting smirk from him before his ever-serious expression came back.
They walked in silence for a few blocks, and with every second going by Lance understood why the place was so dangerous on its own —the public lightning were too high and punctual, which created small areas with too much light and other bigger areas with shadows enough to hide three grizzly bears; most of the local stores they passed by were abandoned and vandalized, some of them even invaded by homeless people or entire families; the houses and apartment buildings that were lived in didn’t have finishing, just the concrete wall out to the exterior and was very neglected; and he was very concerned that there was not a public trash can in sight through all the principal street, lots of trash bunching up in corners and stairs.
The place looked designed to end up like any type of crime scene, and surprisingly it was the first time he thought the people living there wasn’t guilty from all the horrible things that happened on that neighborhood —it had been the fault of those who had built there without base, the ones that permitted the creation of non-functional spaces, the ones that traced the streets, that didn’t think of the garbage, the light, the materials...
But, of course, it was what he saw as an Architecture student. Not everybody could see the cause of the problems, only the consequences, and not everybody could give a solution that would actually help.
A metallic thump made him jump, getting away from the dark alley the noise came from and crashing into his companion.
“A-ah, sorry,” he apologized, pulling away but trying to keep his distance with the dark alley, “I think I’m still very scared.”
Keith’s eyes analyzed him for a moment, the serenity on his face dwelling down his anxiety and insecurity.
It was strange. He always thought of him as someone he couldn’t get along with —his quiet and serious attitude was very different from his extroverted and flashy personality. He had seen him smile when architect Shiro praised his projects, but they weren’t expressions he would give to other people easily. Not like him, that he smiled at strangers and started conversation with people he didn’t know to keep the silence away.
“Don’t be,” he said shrugging, taking him away from too vivid memories, “This section isn’t that dangerous.”
He frowned, giving a wary glance to the darkness around them while walking in the edge of the empty street instead of on the sidewalk. It was true that there were more people wandering or seating in the front stairs of houses, but the air of insecurity was still harassing him.
“Kit.”
He flinched away with the highest pitch of his voice in a scream, a chill going down his spine at the deep, gravelly voice to his right. He was quick to change places with his companion, who didn’t even twitch. With a more careful look, he noticed that it had been a man seating in the front steps of a house who have talked to them, a cigar on his frowning lips and the light from the street falling over the scarred side of his face. Even when he was seated down, almost crouched, his figure and size was enormous. Lance was sure he was taller than 6’ 5’’.
“Ah, Kolivan,” Keith murmured, without stopping his steps or let Lance show his surprise at knowing who that stranger was.
“When are you going to pay me?” he asked with a growl, making Lance hold unto Keith’s leather jacket with fear, “You haven’t come here in two weeks.”
Keith didn’t answer immediately, and when Lance looked up at him, he found his eyes carefully watching him before going to the man called Kolivan to reply.
“When you win me at poker, I suppose,” he answered simply, shrugging the shoulder Lance wasn’t holding unto, “And I’ve been busy with school.”
There was a quiet rumble, but Lance noticed how his voice, despite being terrifyingly deep and strong, softened quite a lot, almost familiar.
Lance just knows he wouldn’t like to hear him angry.
“How is Krolia?”
“Busy.”
“Hm.”
“I wonder why.”
Lance was surprised when he heard him scoff, a little puff of smoke coming out of his pursued lips.
“Come next week,” he commented with a nod, “We will double the bets.”
“You really like losing your money.”
Another scoff and the conversation ended, the man now out of earshot. Still, Lance kept shooting over his shoulder with every step they took.
“He’s my uncle,” he heard Keith explain briefly only a few seconds later, face right ahead to where they were walking.
“Oh,” Lance let out breathless, trying to get a hang of himself and the weird familiarity the conversation he saw caused on him, “oh.”
They stayed in silence for a bit before he heard him feign a cough.
“Do you still need my hand?”
Then he noticed the warmth on his hands, his fingers tightly squeezing Keith’s, and he rushed to let go and pull distance between them, only then noticing the slight smell of tobacco on Keith’s jacket.
“I-I- I'm sorry.”
He heard him hum, downplaying it, and Lance didn’t know why he felt his heart about to burst out of his chest.
Surely it was because of the danger of Marmora. Yeah. Of course. Because there was no way his heart was beating for someone like Keith, right?
Right?