Work Text:
Lance enters the coffee shop like a storm, his presence always loud and demanding attention.
The bell clangs as the door flies open, Lance not noticing the way it almost smacks into the wall behind it with the force he threw it open with. The chair across from Keith squeaks against the floor as Lance pulls it back and a sigh’s already escaping his mouth as he throws himself into it, the uneven chair legs thunking against the tiles below as he does. His keys clatter loudly against the table and he grins at Keith as he grabs the drink in front of him, Keith having known his order by heart for the last several years.
Lance pushes his sunglasses to the top of his head, his eyes twinkling with what is surely a story he’s about to tell.
“God, it’s been too long,” he says immediately, sticking the straw in his mouth and taking a long sip. It’s been a little more than three weeks, which for Keith isn’t long at all to not see a friend, but is like years in Lance Time. When they were still in college, Lance insisted on both going-away and coming-home parties every winter break, and he practically went through friend withdrawals each time in the four-to-five weeks their friend group spent apart.
“It’s good to see you, too,” Keith says, leaning back in his seat and bringing his respective drink with him.
He knows that three weeks is a long time for Lance. But these days, it’s hard to be around him.
“Please tell me you quit your job,” Lance says immediately. He leans forward on the table, in contrast to Keith’s leaning back, and it makes something stupid inside Keith hum.
“Actually, I was promoted.”
“God dammit, Keith,” Lance groans. “They’re just doing that to trap you. They knew you were trying to leave!”
“Yeah, but they offered me a raise,” Keith says. He ended up working at a resort after college. Not exactly putting his degree to good use, he’ll admit, but it’s still a good job, nevertheless. They liked the fact that he had a degree, so he was made a supervisor of the front desk almost immediately. Now, he’s the manager of the front desk.
Except he really, really hates his job. He hates customer service. And the kinds of people that come to his workplace are the kinds of people he hates the most.
Rich, but not wanting to pay the full price. Snobby and unsatisfied with absolutely everything. Fake and full of complaints. Keith is tired of calling people “sir” and “ma’am.” He’s tired of answering angry phone calls with a pleasant demeanor. He’s told himself (and Lance) that he’s going to quit at least six times since starting there, and somehow he’s still yet to do so.
“Anyway, I don’t want to talk about work,” Keith says. “What’s new with you?”
Everything, is somehow Lance’s answer. He’s the easiest person to talk to, simply because when Keith doesn’t want to be the one doing the talking, Lance can always pick up the slack.
He’s in love with his job and his coworkers, having stepped it up from being a reporter to being an editor in his newspaper’s office. Now, his job’s demanding in new and exciting ways. And now he can write the articles that he really wants to write when he wants to write them, rather than needing to write something new every few days simply to stay on the staff’s roster. Plus, he’s in charge of others, and Lance likes being in a leadership position.
Oh, and his sister’s had a baby and he nursed a pigeon back to health and he’s been looking at cats to adopt and Elena’s doing good, by the way.
Keith smiles, tight and painful, but he hopes it looks natural. He always hopes it looks natural. And he’s not an asshole, so he says, “Yeah? How’s the wedding planning going?”
Lance laughs. “We’re not thinking about it too much, just yet. I mean, we haven’t even set the date yet. But she knows what colors she wants and she’s started looking at venues, so.”
“That’s good,” Keith lies. And he has to lie, because Lance is his best friend. Because Keith would never want to do anything to hurt the person he’s in love with.
Embarrassing, right? Not only is he in love with his best friend, he’s in love with his best friend who’s engaged. But, if Keith’s being fair to himself, he was in love with Lance long before he was engaged. Long before he was in this relationship, even.
In the back of Keith’s mind, he’d always thought that somehow, someway, he’d manage to end up with Lance.
They met in college, their freshman year. They had a class together, and although Lance kind of annoyed him at first, he somehow ended up letting Lance drag him into his friend group anyway. From there, it was inevitable.
He spent time with Lance constantly. He lived with him for two years. He watched Lance go in and out of relationships, both men and women, and he pined silently and never said a damn thing. That’s his fault, of course. Lance would have no way of knowing that every time he’s been in a relationship, Keith has been secretly hurting. And Keith wouldn’t ask Lance not to be in those relationships, anyway. He wants Lance to be happy.
He just wishes that he would be happy with him.
And now, his chance is well and truly gone. He’s blown it, standing idly by all these years, thinking each time that Lance fell out of a relationship that this would be his chance, as soon as he dug up the courage to tell Lance how he felt. But Keith inevitably wouldn’t dig up the courage and Lance would inevitably find himself in a relationship again, because he’s just that easy to fall in love with.
Keith thought Elena would be just another fling. She and Lance met just as they were approaching graduation and it looked like any other relationship. It looked like something that wouldn’t stand the test of time, the test of distance, but Lance and Elena made it work. They graduated and they found jobs in the same area and they moved in together and Keith wants to rip his heart out and smash it on the ground just so he can stop feeling like this all the time but he’s fine, really. He’s fine.
“What about you?” Lance says.
“What about me?” Keith answers.
“C’mon, any fun guys in your life?” Lance pesters. Keith makes a face and Lance scoots in closer, persistent. “Hot and wild hookups? Anything?”
“I’m not gonna tell you about my hookups, Lance,” Keith scoffs.
“So there have been hookups.”
“I guess,” Keith grumbles, embarrassed.
“Maybe I should set you up with someone,” Lance says. “I have great taste.”
Keith opens his mouth to argue, a natural instinct between them, and then clamps it right back shut. Because insulting Lance’s taste would mean insulting his fiancée, even though he’s dated downright horrible people in the past.
“I don’t want you to set me up,” Keith says.
“But Keith!” Lance whines.
“No, you’d hold it over my head forever,” Keith says. “You’d be way too happy having been the one to set me up.”
Lance pouts. “But… double dates,” he says.
“Do I look like a double date kind of person?” Keith says. “No, seriously. Because I need to change the way I dress or something if I do.”
Lance laughs, loud and long, and Keith ignores the flush that rises to his cheeks whenever he manages to make Lance laugh like that. It’s good to catch up with him, even if it hurts.
—
Keith stands frozen at his desk, staring hard at the computer screen before him, simply to avoid looking at who just walked in.
It’s horrible etiquette, on his part. He normally greets customers as they walk in and then listens to whatever spiel they want to tell him as he checks them into their room. But when he saw her, every muscle in his body tensed and now he’s standing here like an idiot, waiting for her to come to him.
It’s like this every time he sees Elena. Like she’s the one personally driving a screwdriver into his heart.
He wishes he was a better person. He tries his best to be. He tries to be happy for Lance, to be nice to Elena, but he can’t deny that there’s a part of him, deep down, that despises her. That wishes she’d never met Lance and wasn’t the cause of his happiness. But that part of him is dark and disgusting and Keith tries to stamp it out, he really does.
It’s just — he usually prepares himself mentally, before he has to see her. When Lance invites everyone over for a party, Keith works himself up and then calms himself back down, knowing that he’s going to see her and interact with her and have to appear perfectly normal. And when he and Lance hang out otherwise, they’re usually not at Lance’s house. Elena usually isn’t present, and when she is, Lance always mentions it. He doesn’t want Keith to feel like they can’t still be Lance and Keith now that Lance is Lance and Elena.
But Elena’s here, smiling at the elegance of the resort and then making her way to Keith’s desk. Normally, there are more people working here. But it’s a slow day and lunch time, to boot, so Keith is the only one at the desk while his front desk workers are taking their lunch break.
“Keith!” she greets, too nice for her own good. Keith wishes she was a bitch. That she was an asshole who was tearing Lance down so that Keith could have a good reason to hate her, so that he could beg Lance not to marry her. But she’s a sweet, lovely person and she deserves happiness just as much as the next person. She deserves Lance, and she’s getting him.
“Elena,” Keith greets. “I didn’t realize you had a reservation. It’s good to see you.”
“We actually haven’t made the reservation yet,” Elena says. “But Lance told me that you’re not usually too busy during the week, so we were hoping we’d be able to slip in.”
Keith smiles. “We have open rooms right now, don’t worry.”
He goes through the process of reserving a room. Lance walks through the entrance moments later, two bags slung over his shoulders, and he grins and he lopes across the entrance, coming to a stop beside his fiancée.
“Surprise!” he says. “We’re about to be your best customers all week. We’ll have zero complaints, dude, I promise.”
“You’d better,” Keith mutters, and both Lance and Elena laugh. “What’s the occasion?”
“Just for fun,” Lance says. “It’s like a vacation but not. We just wanted to get out of the house but can’t really afford a romantic get-away.”
After he says this, he leans over the desk and reaches for the bowl of candy Keith keeps beside his keyboard. Back when Lance was a reporter and not an editor, he’d come to the resort while Keith was working pretty often. He’d bring Keith coffee, sometimes, but he was usually just taking a break between going out and hunting down sources. And he’d found Keith’s secret stash and gotten in the habit of stealing Keith’s candy.
He straightens up after snatching a Twix, the bastard, and grins at Keith, still hanging over the desk. Keith can feel himself blushing, Lance’s face too close to his own, but he goes through the motions, forcing himself to scoff and roll his eyes.
“Stealing my candy and you didn’t even bring me a coffee?” he jokes.
“Next time,” Lance promises, finally returning to his side of the desk. Keith finds Elena watching him, a glint in her eye much too similar to the glints Pidge usually gets in her eyes, and Keith averts his gaze, staring back at his computer screen.
“You’ll be in room 402,” he says, grabbing a keycard and scanning it. “It’s a nice view of the lake.”
“Thanks, man,” Lance says.
Keith grins, waving them off and telling them to have a good time. He hates himself. He gives them a “family & friends” discount, anyway.
—
“You look like shit,” Shiro says, staring at Keith in concern as Keith plops on his couch, having barged into his house uninvited.
Shiro is the best thing that’s ever happened to Keith.
He was a mentor, originally. Someone Keith looked up to when he started working at an auto-repair shop during college. And somehow, he became one of Keith’s best friends. The closest thing to family he’s ever had.
“I feel like shit,” Keith confirms, rolling onto his side and pulling his knees up to his chest. Shiro disappears to the kitchen immediately, almost definitely about to bring out a platter of fruit or something that he’s sure will make Keith feel better. Even here, Keith’s being haunted.
There, on Shiro’s coffee table, is the same invitation Keith found in his mailbox this morning.
Save the date, it says cheerfully on the front. Keith doesn’t bother opening it, but he has the insides memorized anyway. Lance and Elena are going to have a beautiful wedding. It’s going to be an hour away, at a vineyard. There’ll be an open bar and it’ll be five months from now, even though Keith thought it would be farther away, considering how long they were taking to plan it. Those who plan to attend should RSVP as soon as possible. They have a wedding gift registry for those who aren’t inventive enough to come up with a gift on their own.
Keith already clicked on the link and ordered them a coffee machine, but he isn’t sure if he’s going to go to the wedding. He hasn’t even RSVP’d yet.
Maybe he’ll respond to the invite with a “yes,” just to keep up appearances, but come up with some sort of excuse later down the line. Maybe he’ll invent a sudden business trip. Maybe he’ll pretend to break his leg. Maybe he’ll actually break his leg — Shiro warns him often enough that he’s going to get hurt one of these days, driving around as recklessly as he does on his motorcycle.
“How are you holding up?” Shiro says, returning with a bowl of fruit — classic — and sitting on the couch next to Keith’s feet.
“Fine,” Keith lies.
Shiro’s the only one who knows how Keith feels, and it’s only because Keith showed up here, drunk, after Lance first announced the engagement. Keith had spent the night drinking away his sorrows in a bar, and then he’d turn to Shiro. He’d already been crying by the time he’d found himself on his doorstep, and Shiro had pulled him inside, alarmed, at which point Keith had spilled his guts to him.
Shiro had stayed with him for hours, rubbing his back and holding him as Keith cursed his own and Elena’s existences. As he’d told him about how long he’d been in love with Lance, about all the times he’d tried to work up the courage to tell him how he felt, about how he wanted to die and how love was supposed to feel good, wasn’t it? It wasn’t supposed to feel like this. He knew it wasn’t supposed to feel like this.
He’d passed out on the couch and disappeared the next morning before Shiro could wake up. He hasn’t initiated any sort of conversation about Lance with Shiro since, and Shiro’s never brought it up so directly before, either. But now, it’s inevitable. Now, Keith is here again, heartbroken.
“You don’t have to go,” Shiro tells him.
“I think he’s gonna ask me to be his best man,” Keith whispers. Lance has certainly dropped enough hints. “I’ll throw up at the wedding, Shiro. They’ll be exchanging their vows and it’ll just come out.”
“You can turn him down.”
“For what reason?” Keith seethes. “It won’t make any sense! I can’t explain my reasoning without — without—” he gulps, the thought of so much as mentioning it making his insides try to shrivel up.
“You could tell him,” Shiro points out. “There’s no harm in that.”
Keith would care to disagree. There’s, like, the most harm in that. Putting that kind of stress on Lance, for one. He would know about how Keith felt, would know how being around Elena makes Keith feel. He’d either be hurt or angry. Hurt, because he’d know that Keith has been feeling that same way all this time. Or angry, because what is he supposed to do, now? Why would Keith be putting that on him?
Worse, he’d know. There’d be no turning back. Every time Lance looks at him, he would know that he’s looking at a person who’s in love with him. It’d be in the back of his mind during every interaction. He’d know why Keith always turns down Lance’s offers to set him up, why he’s never bothered to pursue a relationship. It’d be mortifying.
“I’ll think about it,” Keith mutters, burying his face in a pillow. Except he absolutely will not. There’s no chance in hell.
—
Keith doesn’t even get the chance to reject Lance’s offer to be his best man. In Lance’s mind, they’ve already both agreed to it. Somehow, that just makes Keith feel worse.
Lance shows up one day, a month later, with a notebook and a pen. He doesn’t even bother to knock on the door, just barging into Keith’s apartment like the whirlwind he is, surprising Keith from where he’s cooking in the kitchen, steadily stirring his ramen in a pot.
“Oh good, you’re home,” Lance says, hopping up on Keith’s counter.
“Welcome in, I guess,” Keith says dryly.
“Okay, listen up,” Lance says, flicking open his notebook. “I’ve already done a little bit of planning for you, ‘cause I can’t help it, but I’m gonna leave the rest to you. Plus, I still wanna be surprised for my bachelor party,” He adds, laughing. Keith freezes in place, staring hard at the boiling water in his pot.
“I’m thinking we’ll go small, just the besties, you know? You, Shiro, Hunk, and Pidge. I know Pidge isn’t a guy, but she’s one of the bros. We can invite Allura too if we want, we just can’t plan our party for the same night at Elena’s.”
“Lance,” Keith says. His hand is shaking where he’s holding his spoon. The steam from the ramen is starting to burn his wrist, but he can’t move.
“Strippers is up to you, dude. I’m not for or against ‘em, really. But I think we should go somewhere fun! Get out of town and go somewhere. Oh! Except I don’t want to know where we’re going until we get there, I want the surprise to last for a while.”
“Lance,” Keith repeats.
“Also, did you lose your invitation? We never got your RSVP, but I told Elena it’s because you don’t own stamps. I could just tell her you’re going, but what she really needs is to know whether you’re bring a plus one and if you have their name already. We’re getting these really cute name cards—”
“Lance!” Keith shouts, and then immediately regrets it, because he finally succeeds in getting Lance to shut up. Lance falls silent, looking at him expectantly, except he’s still grinning. Keith feels his heart crumbling to pieces inside his chest.
“I can’t be your best man,” Keith mutters.
“What?” Lance says, looking more confused than betrayed. “Like, honestly, or…?”
“Yeah, honestly,” Keith says, still sounding meek.
Lance’s confusion is wiped away. His face goes blank, which is terrifying. When Lance is angry, he doesn’t show it. He doesn’t show any emotion. And right now, he’s furious.
“I don’t get it,” Lance says.
“I can’t come to the wedding, Lance,” Keith says. “I’m sorry.”
“The fuck?”
“I’m gonna be out of the country,” Keith says. He’s making it up. He’s the worst friend in the world. “It’s a work thing.”
“They’re making you fly somewhere?” Lance says, incredulous. “As a front desk supervisor?”
“Manager,” Keith whispers.
“You hate your job,” Lance says. “You say you’re gonna quit all the time.”
“You want me to quit my job for your wedding?” Keith says.
“I want you to say no to this out of country thing, at least!” Lance explodes. “You’re my best friend! You’re, like, the second most important person I’ll have there! I need you there!”
“I’m sorry,” Keith says. It’s all he can think to say. He already feels his throat threatening to close up, his eyes growing hot. But he can’t cry in front of Lance. It wouldn’t make sense.
“Whatever,” Lance scoffs. He slaps his notebook down on the table and stalks out of the room. Keith flinches when the front door slams behind him and sinks to the kitchen floor, pulling his knees to his chest. His only consolation is that at least this is hurting him more than it’s hurting Lance — he’s sure of it.
—
Keith can’t do anything without it coming back to bite him in the ass, that much is obvious.
He thought he escaped the wedding drama. Lance is pissed at him, but he’ll get over it eventually, Keith is sure. He hasn’t spoken to him since, but that’s because he has no idea what to say. And Lance is usually the one to reach out after a fight, anyway.
But when there comes a persistent knock at the door — one so unrelenting that Keith’s forced to hop out of the shower and pull clothes over damp skin — it isn’t Lance at the door. It’s his fiancée.
“I — um. Elena,” Keith greets. He feels sick. “What are you doing here?” And how did you know where I live?
“Hi, Keith,” Elena says, cheerful and pleasant as always. “May I come in?”
“Yeah, of course,” Keith says. His voice sounds scratchy. He watches as Elena steps into his apartment, stepping out of her shoes at the door and glancing around. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Water would be fine,” Elena says, so Keith disappears to the kitchen to panic in private and fills up a glass for her. When he comes back, he finds Elena holding a picture frame, examining its contents.
It’s him and Lance, of course. Back on Keith’s twenty-first birthday. They’re so obviously drunk in the picture, but Keith loves it anyway, despite their messy hair and flushed faces and glazed over eyes. He’s leaning heavily into Lance’s side and Lance’s face is turned toward his, his lips pursed as if to kiss his cheek.
Keith swallows, realizing how much of Lance lives in this apartment.
Some of his books, abandoned here far too often. There’s a chapstick that’s his on the living room table and he keeps spices in Keith’s cabinet for when he comes over to share a meal. There’s a toothbrush that’s his in Keith’s bathroom, because sometimes they stay up late drinking and sometimes Lance decides to sleepover rather than getting a ride home. And there are stupid, countless pictures of him.
There are pictures of Keith’s other friends, too. Pictures of him with Shiro, and pictures of the whole group together. But there are mostly pictures of Lance. In this moment, he doesn’t know why he wasn’t satisfied just keeping all those pictures on his phone.
Elena sighs. “He’s an idiot,” she says softly. “Worse, actually. Because even an idiot would realize you’re in love with him.”
Keith’s entire body forgets how to work, for a second, and Elena’s glass of water slips out of his hand. It crashes to the floor, soaking Keith’s socks immediately, and one shard of glass flies through the air, leaving a shallow slice on Keith’s cheek. He doesn’t even feel the sting.
Elena turns to face him, alarmed, and Keith remembers how to breathe.
“Shit,” he says, looking down at the broken glass.
“Keith, are you okay?” Elena says immediately.
“Gotta clean this up,” Keith babbles. “I’ll get you another water.”
“Leave it, I’m not even thirsty,” Elena says, exasperated. “And stop freaking out — I’m not mad at you.”
Keith disappears into the kitchen anyway, well and truly freaking out now. He grabs a handful of dish towels and then just stands there in front of his sink, twisting his fingers around them. Now that he’s breathing again, he can’t stop. He’s breathing too much, sucking in lungfuls of air that leave him feeling lightheaded. His entire body feels flushed, sweat is prickling everywhere, and alarm bells are going off in his head, throbbing with the intensity of a migraine.
He thinks he might pass out.
“Give those to me,” Elena says suddenly. Keith jumps, not having realized she followed him into the kitchen, but he hands over the towels wordlessly and lets her go and clean up his mess. When she returns to the kitchen, Keith has managed to compose himself, somewhat. He’s holding another glass of water and he hands it to Elena with a shaking hand, though she has the decency not to comment on it.
“I think you’re mistaken,” Keith forces himself to say. It sounds like a lie, even to him.
“Honey, it’s obvious,” Elena says. “And I don’t blame you. How could I? I’m in love with him, too.”
Keith closes his eyes. He wants to melt into the floorboards and cease to exist. In all the times that he’s imagined talking about his feelings for Lance — either admitting them to him or Lance himself confronting Keith — it’d just been the two of them. There’d never been some third party involved. He’d never contrived some sort of scenario that included the person Lance was going to marry confronting him about it.
“I’m sorry,” Keith says immediately. “I already told him I’m not going to the wedding. You have nothing to worry about.”
“He’s hurting,” Elena says gently. “He doesn’t understand. And I really think you need to tell him.”
Keith’s heart clenches. Elena might as well be reaching through his chest and strangling it herself.
“I can’t,” Keith whispers. “What — no,” he says. “No way. I can’t do that.”
“It’s not fair to him,” Elena says. “And besides, I think…” she falters, something sad passing over her face. “I think it’s something he needs to hear.”
Keith’s not even listening to her. Something’s roaring through his ears.
“I can’t—”
“Please,” Elena says. “That’s all I ask.”
With that, she leaves. Keith spends another two hours just sitting in his kitchen, panicking over everything he’s ever done wrong in his life.
—
“Responding to the ad I put out for replacement best man?” Lance says, looking up at Keith as he enters his office. “Or just here to reject the position a second time?”
“You didn’t actually put out an ad, did you?” Keith says, concerned. It’s just — Lance works at a newspaper. He very easily could’ve slipped one in there.
Lance glowers. “No,” he huffs. “Why are you here? I didn’t even know you knew where the office was.”
“I had to Google it,” Keith admits, sheepish. “Can I sit down?”
This is the first time they’ve spoken since Lance burst into his apartment. A few weeks since Elena did the same. Keith knows she wouldn’t have told Lance herself, and he spent a long time debating whether to even do this.
Part of him debated just ignoring her. Going about his day and continuing to live as he has. Keeping his secret tucked carefully away and pretending that Elena never paid him that visit. Possibly avoiding Elena for the rest of his life, in fact, simply to avoid having to face the terror of thinking about that day ever again.
Another part of him had come up with a completely different solution. To just — run away. He’d already told Lance he wouldn’t be at the wedding, right? And he knew he’d never have a chance with him, not anymore. Sure, he’d had a hard time making friends in college, and yeah, when he really thought about it, he was forced to acknowledge the fact that he’d only found this friend group in the first place because of Lance.
But he could probably make friends elsewhere. It wasn’t like he’d be leaving any family behind. He only lived here because it was near where he’d gone to college, and both Lance and Shiro had ended up in the same town, anyway. But he could go anywhere else in the entire world. He was good at running away, he knew that.
Yet he’d come to this decision, in the end. The least cowardly one, somehow. The one that Elena had wanted him to make. The one that terrified him the most. The reason he was here in this office, right now, feeling like he had lead in his feet and needles lodged in his chest.
“Yeah, man,” Lance says, sighing heavily. He gestures to the chair, and the second Keith sits down in it, he regrets asking to sit in the first place. He should’ve stayed by the door. At least then, he’d be ready to bolt immediately. He could blurt it out and disappear within a second, not even having to stay to see Lance’s reaction. “What’s up?” Lance says.
Keith might actually throw up. That is, if he’d eaten anything at all today. But his stomach’s empty and it’s clenching anyway. His limbs feel tight beyond belief, ready to spring into action. His heart thunders, every nerve in his body screaming for him to run, despite the fact that he’s always fit firmly into the fight category of fight or flight.
“I… have something to tell you,” Keith says. His voice sounds lower than it usually does. “Something kind of serious.”
Lance’s eyes widen. “Someone didn’t die, did they?” he says immediately, his face flooding with fear.
“No, no one’s dead,” Keith says hastily. “It’s not that serious.”
“Do you have… a news tip for me?” Lance guesses, just curious now. Keith shakes his head again.
“No,” he says. “Just listen.”
So Lance sits there, listening, and Keith flounders. He tries to move his mouth but finds his jaw locked tight. He already wants to cry and he hasn’t even said anything yet.
“I just… I needed you to know,” Keith says, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “Um. That I — I’m in love with you. And I have been since our freshman year in college. And that’s why I can’t go to your wedding, Lance.”
The silence that follows is deafening. It’s the loudest thing that Keith has ever heard. His blood rushes through his ears, thunderous, and he feels his face flame. It’s mortifying.
Lance’s eyes are wide. His mouth is open, just barely. As if he moved it in order to speak and then forgot what he was going to say. Keith sees his lip twitch but he still remains silent, until, at last, he says, “Oh.”
Keith stands up so abruptly that his chair squeals on the hardwood floor.
“I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “I’ll see you later.”
Retreating through the building is a blur. Keith’s legs are shaking. He almsot trips down the stairs three different times, and by the time he makes it to his car, he’s gasping for breath. His fingers tremble on the steering wheel and his mind spins — he can’t even remember what he said in there. Can’t even remember what Lance looked like. All he knows is that it feels like his life is over.
—
Three months. It’s the longest Keith has gone without talking to Lance since he met him.
But he told him he loved him, ran away, and hasn’t exchanged a word with him since. He’s talked to
Shiro, a bit. Told him about what he did. But he asked Shiro not to tell him anything about Lance, and said to do the same if Lance ever asked anything about him.
It’s the day of Lance’s wedding. In fact, he’s probably already married. Keith wouldn’t know, because he’s not there.
Instead, he’s sitting in his bed with his comforter pulled up over his head. He’s wearing one of Lance’s old sweatshirts, because he’s that much of a loser. Lance left it here forever ago, and when he asked Keith if he’d look around for it, Keith lied and said he couldn’t find it. He lied, and now he wears it sometimes, always making sure to hide it carefully in the back of his closet whenever Lance is coming over.
There’s a half-empty carton of ice cream on his lap and his laptop is propped up on a pillow in front of him, playing an old favorite comfort movie of his.
“When the planes hit the Twin Towers, as far as I know, none of the phone calls from the people on board were messages of hate or revenge — they were all messages of love. If you look for it, I’ve got a sneaky feeling that you’ll find that love actually is all around.”
Keith sniffs, his mouth pulling into a frown as his dry eyes prickle. He’s already cried it out all — there’s literally no water left in his body to escape from his eyes. He hasn’t peed in hours, probably for that exact same reason. Also probably because he hasn’t bothered to grab a cup of water. He shovels another spoon of ice cream into his mouth and promptly wishes he would choke on it. At least then his mind would stop drifting off, berating Keith with images of what Lance is probably up to right now.
Probably finishing up the wedding, is Keith’s guess. Maybe driving off into the sunset. Maybe waiting in an airport, getting on a plane, heading to his honeymoon.
Keith hears his front door open and he wants to gouge his eyes out. Fucking Shiro. Of course he’d come to check up on him, as if Keith wants anyone in the world to see him in this state.
He ignores it, deciding to let Shiro figure out for himself that Keith doesn’t want visitors. Or maybe it’s an intruder. That might even be the better option, honestly.
But Keith hears footsteps coming down the hall and he glowers at his computer screen harder, ready to chuck his spoon at Shiro in self defense.
The door opens, letting in a flood of light, and Keith freezes. Thinks he might be hallucinating, for a second.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at a weeding?” he says finally. This is definitely the most embarrassing state Lance has ever seen him in. More embarrassing still than sitting across from him at his desk, listening to that terrible silence before he ran like his life depended on it.
“Aren’t you supposed to be out of the country?” Lance retaliates. He’s not wearing his suit. He doesn’t look like someone who’s just come from a wedding. He looks like the Lance that Keith knows, just wearing a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. “We called it off a week ago,” Lance finally says. “I thought you would’ve heard by now.”
Keith curses Shiro again. News like this definitely would’ve been appreciated, even if Keith claimed to not want to know anything at all.
“Clearly not,” Keith says, self deprecating, and he jerks his ice cream into the air a little, as if it wasn’t obvious enough.
Lance crosses the room as if that was an invitation. He crawls into the bed, tugging the comforter away from Keith so that he can wrap himself in it too, and then he steals Keith’s spoon along with a bite of his ice cream.
“I’m sorry about your wedding,” Keith says carefully. “How are you holding up?”
“Okay,” Lance says, sounding honest. “It was amicable. I had a lot of stuff I was thinking about, and Elena admitted that she was starting to question her sexuality. We realized that we might’ve been rushing into things.”
Keith hums. He has no idea what’s going on. He wishes Lance would say something and crush the hope that daring to build in Keith’s chest.
“Well, that’s good,” Keith says carefully.
Love Actually is still playing and Keith keeps his eyes trained on the screen. Tries to keep his breathing steady, too.
“Can’t help but notice that you’re wearing my sweatshirt,” Lance says suddenly, amused. Keith flushes, wanting to disintegrate.
“Is it that surprising?” he says. “I already told you I’m in love with you. I thought you were off getting married right now. I’m clearly wallowing,” he adds, gesturing to the ice cream and the movie.
“Oh, good, I thought that might’ve been a fever dream,” Lance jokes. “‘Cause, you know, I’ve kind of had feelings for you for years.”
Keith stiffens, not daring to believe it.
“I think Elena realized that, somehow. I thought I didn’t even have them anymore, that I’d fallen in love with her hard enough. But she realized, and she wanted me to know that you loved me — she told me that she came to your apartment, when we were talking about everything.”
“You… have feelings for me?” Keith mutters.
“I guess we’re both idiots,” Lance sighs. He leans against Keith’s side, taking another bite of his ice cream.
Keith sniffs. Lance looks at him, surprised, as Keith realizes that he somehow does still have tears left to cry.
“Shit, should I not have told you that?”
“Ugh, don’t look at me,” Keith huffs, pulling his knees up to his chest. “These are happy tears. Fuck off.”
Lance giggles, twisting around to face Keith. “I might need a bit of time, just to get over Elena a little more,” he warns Keith. “But… I want us to be together. I’ve wanted that for a long time.”
“Okay,” Keith says, burying his smile in his knees. He’s waited a long time. He can wait a little bit longer.
“And now we can be happy wallowing instead of sad wallowing,” Lance says.
“I think wallowing is intrinsically a sad thing,” Keith points out.
“Celebrating, then,” Lance says. “With ice cream and a movie that you watch when you’re down.”
Keith laughs, and Lance doesn’t move away from him, and they spend the night watching movies together, just clicking on new ones whenever one ends. They cuddle, pressed together on Keith’s bed, and at one point, Lance presses a kiss to Keith’s forehead. And everything finally, finally, feels like it’s fallen into place.