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Lance awoke with a start, panting and heart racing. Just like almost every other night.
It hadn’t always been this bad. He remembers the first few nights in the Castle weren’t the best, as he missed his home, and wasn’t familiar with the place at all. Nonetheless, a couple of weeks afterward, he grew used to it.
But now? Now it got harder every night.
The war, the tension, the stress, and of course, the homesickness, had started to become heavy bricks that built up a wall before him, keeping him from sleep and rest altogether.
The violence, tiredness, and overall ache had become a daily routine. However, the thing that hurt Lance the most wasn’t the cuts and bruises he got after every mission, or the gruesome memories of killing Galrans that haunted him every night; the one thing that hurt him the deepest was the uncertainty of whether they were all going to make it back safely to the Castle or not.
God, he was so afraid.
Lance was terrified of losing, almost everyone knew that.
But what they don’t know is that what he’s most afraid of losing is the people he loves.
He instantly stood up from his bed and walked out of his room. It was an automatic reaction. He was used to going into her sister’s room whenever he had nightmares or he couldn’t sleep.
They’d hug him tightly and calm him down, reminding him that he was there, that they were there, and that he would be alright.
Most times, Lance would sleep on the floor between both of her beds, on top of puffy blankets and surrounded by pillows. But there had also been times when his nightmares were so vivid and intense, that his sisters would move the beds and lay down with him, holding him close.
The McClain Sandwich, their mother used to call it.
Being away from home had forced him to adapt.
Thankfully, he got the best and most loving roommate at the Garrison: Hunk. Whose snores filled the tense silence of the night, making Lance fall asleep easily after having bad dreams.
Now, however, it wasn’t as easy.
Lately, this gloomy, lonely, and creeping feeling had been haunting him again. He was used to having to share everything with someone; his house and his old dorm room were rarely empty. Now emptiness was all there was.
Lance walked quickly, mind still clinging to the horrible and gruesome nightmare he’d just had.
As of late, he had been getting them more frequently than ever. So, naturally, he’d been doing the only thing he knew he could do.
Go to Hunk.
Honestly, Lance will never be able to thank him enough for all of what he’s done for him.
But tonight, it was different, because the moment he reached Hunk’s door, he hesitated. Something that he’d never done before in this situation. He stopped himself before knocking, hand still hovering before the door.
His mind finally focused.
This had become a habit now too.
And this has been happening for two weeks.
Lance had been waking up Hunk at the crack of dawn because he had a nightmare or because he felt too alone, surrounded by the shadowy corners of his room coming closer and closer as the emptiness attempted to swallow him whole.
Lance had been bothering Hunk.
God, how had he been so selfish?
But— but he had a good reason, he has been feeling horrible! Sometimes he’s been on the verge of an anxiety attack.
(But he could deal with it himself; alone.)
(He had only thought about himself.)
But god, did he want the murmurs and his nightmares to stop. The sound of gunshots and cries of pain went away. Too much red, too much red, too much red. And god did Lance beg every night that he didn’t recognize someone’s eyes in that sea of crimson.
(But he could stay in his room and wait for them to go quiet.)
(He could lay there alone and let the blood drain out of his imagination.)
But his room was always so empty and so cold. And it got even colder once he awoke. He had no one to hold on to as the nightmare’s claws released their grip on him.
(But he was bothering someone else with his unwanted presence. Again.)
Because that’s all that he had learned how to do.
That’s all he is.
An unwanted bother.
“Lance?” the sudden break of the silence made Lance jump. Only then did he notice he had been breathing way too quickly.
“Lance are you okay?” the voice came again, and this time, he recognized it.
Keith.
Of course, it was Keith.
Lance tried —and failed— to fix his posture and appear calm as he turned around to face Keith.
“Y-yeah I’m fine,” he cleared his dry throat, “what are you doing up?”
“Just went for some water,” the other replied simply, looking at Lance weirdly, up and down.
When their eyes met again, concern was clear in Keith’s expression.
“You don’t look fine,” Keith responded bluntly, earning a scoff from Lance.
“What do you care, mullet?” Lance attempted to snap, but it came out much more tired than angry.
“You sure you’re alright?” Keith ignored Lance’s weak attempt to brush off his previous statement, and his voice was so gentle, that Lance had to blink a few times to wonder if he’d actually heard Keith say them.
It was genuine concern.
He gulped, looking away.
“Yeah it’s just—“ Lance paused for a second, then tried not to think about how pathetic he felt as he said, “bad dream.”
He expected Keith to laugh, but it never came, he just nodded sympathetically. And something about the way his eyes glittered in the darkness told him that Keith had his fair share of nightmares too.
“I— I always come to Hunk when...” Lance trailed off before he could stop himself. He’d felt the need to explain himself and why he was frozen in front of his best friend’s closed door. He was clearly more than a little embarrassed, but even with just a few words, he knew Keith understood where this was going. And not once did he see his expression shift to mockery.
Then, he noticed how Keith looked at him and then at the door. He immediately understood his question.
“I’ve been bothering him for almost two weeks,” Lance breathed out, nodding towards the door beside him, “I shouldn’t—“
He sighed, then looked at the floor.
Finally, he concluded, “I should go back to my room.”
Before Keith had the chance to say anything else, Lance turned on his heel as he said, “I’m okay, I swear,” and swallowed down the apology for bothering Keith as well.
Keith watched as Lance disappeared around the corner, with tense shoulders and a slow pace.
He hesitated.
And with each step Lance took, he felt even more distant
Lace arrived at his room and stood right in the middle. He tried not to pay attention to how dark the corners looked, and to how silent everything was without the sound of someone else there.
It felt awfully empty, just like everything else in the castle. Including himself.
Suddenly, there came a knock on the door, making Lance almost jump out of his skin. But before that fear potentially increased, he heard the same familiar voice call his name.
Which then repeated, “Lance, may I come in?”
After another moment of thinking, Lance finally slid the door open. Before he gave Keith the chance to speak, he said, “I’m oka—“
“—Can I sleep with you?”
Lance’s eyes widened comically and his jaw dropped, to say the least. And instantly, Keith thought he’d overstepped.
“Sorry, I— I thought—” Keith continued, trying to amend what he’d just asked for, “You know, with Hunk… so you would, um… but you don’t have to…”
“Why?” Lance asked genuinely, but his tone came off defensive and disbelieving.
It almost sounded like he was disgusted by Keith’s proposal. The other’s face scrunched up as his shoulders tensed. In a matter of seconds, Lance could visibly see him putting up taller walls. He immediately realized his mistake.
“Keith, no no, of course you can sleep here. I’m flattered, really,” Lance said honestly, hands reaching out to him before retracting them again, “I’m just... surprised. I— I’d always thought you preferred being alone.”
Silence. And based on the way Keith’s eyes spoke to Lance, this was another touchy subject. Shit.
Then, “I— I can’t sleep either,” Keith admitted in a low voice, not looking away from Lance.
And it seemed like the instant he pronounced those words, he regretted them.
He was vulnerable now. But so had been Lance a few minutes ago. This was alright, this was a safe space.
He was alright.
Lance’s expression had softened, and in return, so did Keith’s.
The brunet stepped aside, and in a moment, they were both standing alone in the middle of Lance’s bedroom.
At first, the air was a little tense, and more than a little awkward. Lance figured Keith had never done anything like this before; he had probably acted on instinct when he came here and now he couldn’t back away.
So, Lance took the wheel.
Without thinking much of it, he grabbed Keith’s hand and led him to the bed, not missing the way the other flinched and almost shook his grasp away.
It’s just like with Hunk, Lance tried to tell himself, it’s just like with Hunk.
But it... wasn’t. None of it felt like that.
Right now, there were two parts of him telling him what to do, and he couldn’t decide.
Lance could A) treat Keith like Keith and hesitate before he acts, or B) treat Keith like he’d treat anyone else, and be comfortable and warm around him so the air would hopefully un-tense.
B, he’d go with option B.
Once they were both lying down beside each other, Lance decided to get comfortable. Like he always does. He tried to scoot closer to Keith so that he could hug him, but the moment he moved closer, Keith moved away.
He probably didn’t understand what Lance was trying to do.
So, Lance did it again, and as predicted, Keith scooted away once more. He breathed out a laugh, which made Keith turn his head towards him.
“You’re literally at the edge of the bed, man,” Lance teased.
“Well, you’re the one who’s kicking me out!” Keith whispered defensively.
“No, I’m not!” Lance countered, a smile audible in his voice, and before Keith had the chance to respond, he said, “Just, come over here to where you were before.”
Keith looked at him curiously, as if it honestly didn’t make sense why Lance wanted to be so close to him.
But he did it anyway.
When he was merely a breath away from Lance, the brunet raised his right arm slightly and asked, “I’m going to hug you, is that okay?”
Keith’s eyes widened, and even in the dark, Lance noticed how his cheeks darkened. It made him smile warmly without thinking, making Keith finally break from the trance.
He just nodded.
He nodded as he tried, with all his might, to not be too aware of the feeling of Lance’s arm wrapping over his chest securely, and how he scooted even closer to him. As if this proximity wasn’t remotely close enough.
And it wasn’t.
Lance didn’t miss the way Keith inhaled deeply and how his muscles tensed. But he didn’t think too much about it, he let his body relax completely and his head settled close to Keith’s chest.
After a few moments of Lance purposefully ignoring the tension in the room by staying still while breathing slowly, he finally felt Keith start to relax.
He even noticed how Keith had unconsciously begun to breathe in the same rhythm as him. Lance couldn’t help but smile.
He didn’t know how much time passed, but with each second, he could feel Keith getting more and more comfortable. His body sunk into the bed more softly —compared to how he had been as stiff as a board— and he also adjusted better into Lance’s arms!
He even hugged him back—
Keith. Actually. Hugged. Lance. Back.
And he was still hugging him.
It seemed like... he was genuinely comfortable in Lance’s embrace. And it didn’t look like he wanted to let go.
This wasn’t something Keith could faked.
This was true.
He felt safe.
And it meant everything to Lance.
The nauseating feeling of flapping butterfly wings Lance had been trying to suppress during this whole interaction came crashing back out.
Explosions.
And for some reason, he suddenly felt the urge to stand up and run, which only made him want to hug Keith tighter.
And he did.
Surprisingly, Keith returned the hug even tighter.
Before Lance’s mind had time to lose it completely, Keith finally broke the silence.
“This is nice,” he said, almost in a whisper. His voice sounded raspy and coated with sleep.
It made Lance beg that a butterfly wouldn’t escape his throat as he repeated, “This is nice,” more affirmatively, and with a dumb smile forming on his lips.
He then looked up at Keith, seeing how he was staring softly at the ceiling. He looked so... at peace.
Fireworks.
And the racing beat set by Keith’s heart was the rhythm of each pop.
“Thank you,” Lance said, not glancing away from Keith, even if the other was still looking at the ceiling.
“I feel like I should be the one thanking you,” Keith replied with a small smile on his lips as midnight eyes finally met the ocean.
It’s probably too cliché to say that their eyes glittered in the darkness, but Lance swears he saw the fireworks he had been hearing and feeling the entire night reflecting in Keith’s irises.
“You’re welcome,” Lance replied smugly, without missing a beat, and the low rumble of laughter that echoed in Keith’s chest reached all the way over to Lance’s heart.