Archive of Our Own ^omega

It was 3 AM and Keith was awake. He was awake, and beside him was a softly snoring boy, hair mussed over his face, body splayed over the bed. Around them, the world was quiet and still, and Keith felt like he was suffocating.

Was he still breathing? He couldn’t tell.

His eyes wandered over to the boy next to him, hair a familiar shade of chestnut brown, tan skin utterly bare under the soft covers, and Keith’s heart seized up again.

Lance, he thought, breathlessly.

Keith turned his head away from Lance, facing towards the rest of his room. A small room, but clearly lived in. An abundance of pictures were stuck to the walls, little knick knacks cluttered almost every surface, a bookshelf near groaned under the weight of so many books and video game cases. Every single inch of the room was undoubtedly Lance’s, reflecting his exuberant personality and chaotic order. Keith felt utterly alien in the room. He felt naked– was naked, a mere technicality, really– and alone, and small, so very small.

He could not, for the life of him, figure out how he was supposed to fit into Lance’s world. Lance often called Keith a hothead, and so did most other people Keith knew, but truth be told–

Truth be told, sometimes Keith felt like he was burning alive, that he would reduce himself to ash and dust.

And what was Lance to do with a burning boy? Keith sizzled at his touch, roared to life at the thought of him, all-consuming, overwhelming, but Lance was an ocean and soon enough Keith would die out.

It couldn’t work. There was no alternative where Keith didn’t burn Lance or Lance didn’t extinguish Keith. They would never be sustainable, no matter how hard they tried.

Keith squeezed his eyes shut.

He saw smoke.

It was snowing, fiercely, the cold wind whipping at Keith’s exposed face violently and without mercy, and Keith could only bundle into himself more and walk faster towards the beckoning warmth of his dorm building.

Only when he finally reached the door, he stopped, abruptly.

Lance was standing inside, wrapped in his deep blue winter coat, watching Keith with his clever eyes, studying him.

The glass of the door between them felt like a deep chasm, one Keith felt utterly too terrified to cross, so he braced himself and turned around and ran away. Like he always did. Like he was born to do.

He was hurrying in the opposite direction of the building when he heard his voice.

“KEITH!” Lance hollered through the storm. And all Keith could do was freeze in response, closing his eyes in a silent plea for Lance to not get any closer.

“Keith,” Lance called, sounding significantly closer, and Keith kept his eyes closed and cursed at fate. He let out a controlled exhale, the breath clouding around him like smoke. He turned around.

“Keith,” Lance said, softly, but his eyes were hard and his face betrayed the confusion and anger he felt.

“Hey,” Keith responded, sounding pathetic. Lance’s eyebrows furrowed together. He was trying to figure Keith out again, piece him together like a puzzle to be solved, rip him apart from the inside and build him again, but he already had, he already had, and Keith’s chest was empty and without a pulse from having been picked apart and put together again and again.

Keith ached.

“We need to talk,” Lance said, “preferably not outside during a winter storm. Can I come in?”

Keith sighed. As if there was any other option. As if he could refuse this boy anything at all.

(But he had refused him. He had run away. Desertion was a form of rejection, a harsh one at that.)

“Yeah, of course,” Keith exhaled, closing his eyes again, trying to collect his bearings and escape Lance’s damn gaze for a bit. That damned gaze.

When he opened his eyes again, they were in his dorm, and Keith blinked repeatedly to adjust himself to his surroundings. Did they speak on the walk back to the building? Was Lance next to him, a warm reminder? Keith could barely remember unlocking his door, much less how they got there, but there they were. Red and blue. Face to face.

Lance looked tired. His face was tinged red from the wind, and he had slight shadows under his eyes. He still took Keith’s breath away, but he looked dulled.

Burnt, Keith’s brain supplied traitorously, and Keith wondered if he was the cause of all of it.

Lance took a breath.

“You left. Why?”

Three words, and Keith was left floundering. He tried multiple times to open his mouth and produce a sound, to no avail. Frustrated, he pursed his lips and forced himself to breathe. Across from him, Lance looked desperate.

“Keith. Please. Can you at least tell me why?”

“Because-” Keith began, the word tripping on its way out, “because I had to. We wouldn’t work. I didn’t want to hurt you, Lance, you have to know, I never wanted to hurt you-”

Lance looked incensed now. His jaw clenched and unclenched. Finally, he gritted out,

“Did you ever think of the possibility that you leaving me would hurt me? Or did that just completely pass over your mind when you were deciding our relationship on my behalf?”

Keith almost let out a pained gasp. Lance was pissed, and was taking critical aim, his eyes glinting under the crappy dorm light above them. With every second that passed without an answer from Keith, Lance’s face shuttered more. His jaw was still clenched, his body tense under his coat. The words finally exploded from Keith.

“How the hell was I supposed to know when you never told me anything? I couldn’t give you a single damn thing because I didn’t know what I was supposed to give, what you wanted-”

“I wanted you!” Lance yelled, abruptly. His face was flushed red, but no longer from the wind. “Damnit, Keith, you never told me anything either! I never knew if you were comfortable around me, if you really felt the same way, because you closed off whenever I tried to talk about us! You’re telling me that you couldn’t give me anything- you didn’t have to. I just wanted you. And you robbed that from me.”

Lance was breathing heavily, eyes red and straining from holding back tears. Keith’s jaw hurt from how hard he was biting back his own sobs. Keith ached, he ached, and ached,

“And,” Keith whispered, using all the strength he had to get the words out, “do you still?”

Lance looked like he was about to hit Keith, or yell, and a part of Keith desperately wanted him to explode, to feel.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” He scoffed, eyes blazing. “You rip my heart to shreds and ghost me for weeks and you ask me if I still want you?”

Keith would burn alive. He was kindling, meant to turn to ash and dust.

Lance threw his hands up, looking pointedly at the ceiling rather than at Keith. He blew out a watery exhale.

“Damn you, Keith Kogane, yes. For some damn reason I still want you. For some damn reason I think I might lo-” Lance choked on his words, but continued, “-love you. But I don’t fucking like you right now. So get your ass in gear and stop running away.” Lance spared a look down at Keith, absolutely wrecked, tears streaming down his face. “It’s your move. Do what you want.”

With that, Lance burst out of Keith’s dorm, leaving him shell shocked and frozen in place.

He wouldn’t burn alive. He would drown.

I think I might love you.

He grabbed onto the lifesaver. He saw Lance, more storm than boy, and let everything crash over him, through him, surround him.

I think I might love you.

Keith was willing to try.

It was a quiet day, and the sky was a clear and beautiful blue stippled with fluffy white clouds. Keith steadied himself, breathing in and out slowly. He rapped at the door once, twice, then took a step back.

Keith heard footsteps, and then the door opened and he was face-to-face with Hunk, who looked surprised to see him.

“Oh,” Hunk exclaimed, “hey Keith! What’s up?”

“I was wondering if, uh,” Keith kept his feet firmly on the floor, gripping onto his small bouquet of red and white chrysanthemums and forget-me-nots arranged around a center of purple hyacinths, “I was wondering if Lance was home?”

Hunk’s eyebrows furrowed, and his friendly demeanor dropped to a fiercely defensive one. “What do you want Lance for?”

“I wanted to- I wanted to speak with him, try to apologize, if possible,” Keith admitted, feeling small under the calculating gaze of the taller boy. Hunk pursed his lips in contemplation. After a few tense seconds, he gave a brief nod.

“Come in. I’ll go ask if he wants to see you.” Hunk beckoned Keith into the living room, and Keith almost felt dizzy with nostalgia. He looked around the room, letting his eyes linger on all the photos, letting the warmth of the home comfort him. A few moments later, Hunk emerged from Lance’s room, and gave Keith a knowing look.

“Good luck,” he whispered as he approached Keith, jostling him slightly with a solid pat on his shoulder. Keith inhaled,

I think I might love you-

and exhaled. He knocked on Lance’s door before entering.

Lance was perched on his bed, long limbs spread casually, focused on his Switch, but his eyes flickered up to Keith when he entered.

And he stopped. And watched Keith.

Keith cleared his throat slightly.

“So, uh,” he began, wincing internally at how wobbly his voice sounded, “hi. How are you?”

Lance stared at him, unamused. “Fine. And you?” His response was curt and made Keith want to turn away. But he stayed where he was.

“Well, to be completely honest, I’m kinda scared shitless. I mean, there’s this guy, absolute light of my life, and I think I could spend the rest of my life with him if I tried, but I fucked up, severely. So, here I am, trying. And, uh, not running away. ‘Cause he deserves better than that and I wanna try giving that to him.” Keith’s words flew out of his mouth, leaving him a bit breathless– almost like the first night he woke up beside Lance and studied his room, all that time ago– and Lance just stared at Keith, with something akin to shock on his face.

No, actually– a revelation playing on his face.

Finally, finally, a small smile broke out on Lance’s face (like sunshine, Keith thought, sunshine over the water’s surface) and he lifted himself up from his bed.

“Well,” Lance said playfully, a teasing look in his eye, “I think you’ve gotten ahead of yourself a bit there, mullet. What’s this guy like?”

Keith almost chuckled. He readjusted his grip on the bouquet as he pretended to ponder an answer to the question.

“Hm, well, for one thing, he’s real handsome. He brightens up any room he’s in. He’s like a people magnet, all charisma and charm. But he’s also really smart, way smarter than he lets off, and sometimes he gets this look in this eye like he’s trying to figure out the secret to how the universe works. He makes me feel alive like I never have before,” Keith locks eyes with Lance, conveying his authenticity in his open gaze, “he makes me feel like maybe I do have a purpose after all. Sometimes I think that I could fly all the way to the other corner of the universe and save planets from evil aliens if only I had him by my side. And by some miracle, he wants me too. And I haven’t known many truths in my life, but that truth makes me feel like the most honest man in the world.”

Lance watched Keith, mouth agape in amazement. His face flushed, and eyes softened. He came within inches of Keith, his breath mingling with Keith’s, their eyes swimming in each other. He reached out a hand and softly cradled Keith’s face in it.

“The rest of your life, huh?” He whispered, love dripping from every syllable. Keith felt like he was suffocating in it, and he relished the feeling. He nodded, slightly, and turned his face to kiss Lance’s palm.

“I know it’s not gonna be easy. But I’m willing to fight for it. And I’m willing to take it slow, make it up to you, so you can believe me when I say that I’m not going to run away from you again,” Keith whispered back, lips grazing Lance’s hand. Lance shuddered out a breath and closed his eyes, overwhelmed. He touched his forehead to Keith’s, and Keith closed his eyes, feeling nothing but peace, and warmth, and belonging, and love.

Keith felt so much love.

Lance smiled and nuzzled his nose with Keith’s. “Okay,” he exhaled, finding Keith’s hands on the bouquet with his free hand, and gripping them. “Okay. Let’s try this out. I promise I’ll talk to you, I’ll try my best not to bottle everything up and keep it from you. I still just want you.”

Keith felt so much love.

I just want you.

He smiled, and when he opened his eyes to meet Lance’s, he let the ocean rush over him.

He wouldn’t burn. He would live. He would love. He would love.