Chapter Text
The stench of cigarettes was strong, the lingering smoke stinging Lance's eyes before he'd even stepped foot into the dingy bar.
They'd been waiting in line for at least ten minutes, the chilling tingle in his fingers and icy breath told him he probably should’ve brought an extra jacket with him. Gloves too, and maybe a scarf for good measure. He let out a sigh as he looked to Hunk standing next to him, all bundled up and tapping away on his phone. A pout formed on his lips, Hunk was clearly prepared for the cold weather unlike Lance, who mourned for the warmth he could’ve had. He almost wished that he’d stayed home.
It was a nice fantasy, though he knew he couldn’t bail. This night out was planned weeks ago, a celebratory outing to shake off residual tensions from the last of their exams. And he was glad for it, as cold as he was. The pressure he was under had taken a toll, robbing him of many hours of much-needed sleep and just about half of his sanity.
He still felt the weariness clinging to the backs of his eyes. It started in his fingertips, spreading down to his toes and throughout his body as the days dragged on. The consistent state of exhaustion weighed heavy on his soul and left him feeling as if he was made of marble on the best of days, and drowning on dry land on the worst of them.
A deep pit had long since formed in his stomach as their graduation approached. The feelings of dread and uncertainty about his future had him seeking comfort in the stars blanketing the night sky, it had been this way since he was a boy.
Growing up, Lance knew that his mama tried her best, but in a house full of children, aunties, uncles and grandparents it was easy for at least one kid to slip through the cracks. Why it had to be him, he was never sure.
Night after night he would jerk awake, choking on a scream and feeling the sweat sticking uncomfortably to the back of his neck and matting his hair. His skin would crawl and itch, buzzing in his fingers where they would grip his arms in attempt to self-soothe. He cried and begged for reason, for an answer to this unrelenting coldness in his bones. And every night, when he received no reply, he'd look out the window to the stars, the words fell from his lips as he told them everything he couldn't tell anyone else, and when they winked back at him it felt as though they saw him. Saw him in a way no one had in years and although a change in constellations was soon to come the colder it got, the succour feeling those shimmering lights provided never ceased.
These days the nightmares had lessened. Instead he was left restless, tossing and turning for hours, and the previous night had been no different. Thus was the cause of his lack of extra layers, he'd woken up very late and in his rush to shower, dress and leave, he'd forgotten to check just how cold the weather was.
After he arrived at the bar, under-dressed and flushed from running, Hunk chastised his tardiness. He insisted that it was just because he was still used to pulling all-nighters to study, but after the concerned look Hunk threw his way, he didn't think his lie was believed in the slightest. He decided to ignore his friends worry, instead leaning out to look at the size of the door line.
He whistled. "this is gonna take a while."
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As the line got smaller and they finally reached the front of it, Lance frowned slightly, the bouncer standing in front of him was very obviously not having a good night. If the irritated look on his face was anything to go by. Lance felt for him, he really did, having to stand outside it this weather dealing with a bunch of intoxicated collage kids wasn't lance's idea of a fun time, he didn't doubt this guy thought the same.
His suspicions were quickly confirmed when the bouncer spoke, annoyance dripping from his voice as he asked for their IDs. Lance found he almost wanted to ask the burly man if he had something up his ass or if his face just always looked a little constipated, but looking at the sheer size of him Lance already could tell he'd be kicked to the curb, literally, and he didn't wait so long in this cold for nothing.
He reached a hand into his back pocket while Hunk, having already been holding his ID, handed it over before turning his gaze to Lance while the bouncer checked it. A thick dark brow lifted questioningly at his struggle to pull his wallet out of his skin-tight jeans.
"What?" Lance sassed.
"Don't judge me, these are my favorite jeans. They make my ass look good." he winked with a widening grin, Hunk let out a chuckle and shook his head as he pushed open the door,
"C'mon, let's get out of this cold already."
"wait wait, I haven't-" he was cut off as the door closed, hunk already inside. With a huff, lance gave the bouncer his drivers license a willed him to be quick about it. Jesus he was cold.
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Stepping inside, the heavy door closed behind, a feeling of relief rushed over him. The masses of bodies in the room generated enough heat to last the whole winter, now he was kind of glad he didn't have another layer on. He knew he'd only get hotter as the night went on. When he found Hunk waiting for him by the entrance, Lance wasted no time before leaning in and gripping his wrist.
"let's go find the others shall we?" he shouted over the music as he led them through the sea of flailing limbs.
They walked towards a dimly lit booth tucked away at the back of the room where he could already see Pidge, Matt, Shay, and Shiro huddled together, various drinks spread across the table. Lance felt his face break out in a smile as he called out to them. Pidge -standing on their seat and very clearly beyond tipsy- swung around in search of his voice. Screeching out "Took you losers long enough!" once they spotted Lance and Hunk.
A dazed looking Matt reached to pull his younger sibling down, mumbling, "y'r gna fall idiot" as Hunk rushed to stop Pidge from toppling to the floor. Lance had taken this chance to sink into the seat beside Shiro, throwing an arm around him as he looked around the table at his friends. He could feel the lingering tightness in his shoulders dissolve instantaneously, Lance adored his friends. Yes, the stars had always provided an undeniable comfort to him, but they were incomparable to the feeling of being heard, seen and loved, by his best friends. The warmth he felt at this moment was more than just the heat of the room, it radiated from them.
It poured from Pidge and Matt's drunken rambling about their science classes that year. It came from Hunk telling lance he'd already ordered his favorite drink for him despite lance not having asked, he knows Lance's favorite drink because he cared enough to know Lance.
The warmth broadcasted from Shiro next to him, still with Lance's arm around his shoulders, locked in a vivid conversation with Shay about the new café that opened down the street. It spilled from Shay and her never-ending wisdom and knowledge, her bright smile and inviting aura. The warmth came from all around him, each and every one of them meant something so dear to him, he didn't know what he'd do without them. He hoped he'd never have to know.
His sappy internal monologue was interrupted by Pidge, loudly clapping their hands together.
"So," they said with a feral grin "what are we drinkin' tonight?".
"Anything and everything" Lance replied deviously. He was catching up on two day's worth of sleep, alcohol-induced or not.
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Three hours later, the bitter taste of alcohol sits stale on his tongue. After three tequila shots and a sex on the beach, Lance was resting comfortably somewhere between slightly tipsy and absolutely sloshed.
He was sat at the table alone sipping on his second fruity concoction of the night, while his friends were scattered across the room in various states of inebriation. They were far more drunk than he was and he was uncertain whether to praise or curse the last three years of good ol' collage partying for heightening his tolerance -sure it kept him safe from the clutches of nausea for a little while longer- but his liver was sure to be suffering for it.
His head was propped up in his palm as he scanned the room hoping to spot Pidge or Hunk, maybe even Shay, wherever they had stumbled off to.
Instead, his eyes find Matt and Shiro. The two were pressed close together on the dance floor, swaying to a beat far too rowdy. Even so, they didn't seem to care for anything but each other. Envy consumes his heart as they move, the way they look at each other leaves no opportunity to question their love and loyalty, it's clear they were and would always be a pair. And while Lance was happy that two of his best friends found a home in one another, he couldn't help the way the fruity drink soured and his chest tightened.
Pressure built behind his eyes as tears pricked, it hurt to watch them. They were a glaring reminder of something he could never have again.
A reminder of something he lost.
It had been almost four years since the other half of his pair had moved away and left him frozen in time, still standing under that dimly lit lamppost, on that dark barren street, the sun on the horizon teasing a new dawn.
Even years later, still without answers, Lance wonders. He wonders how he's doing, where he ended up, if he moved on. Lance wonders if he's okay.
The pain had settled in his heart and under the surface of his skin some time ago and has yet to alleviate -he was sure it never would. Forever and a day would pass and Lance would still be on that street, feeling the agony anew and reliving the moment.
In his nightmares, he watched as the love of his life walked away from him, over and over and over again. Nothing Lance could say would make him turn around, make him stay. He had felt a gut-wrenching emptiness from that moment on. And he loathed to confess, that a minute part of him resented Matt and Shiro since that day. They were a lighthouse, glaring and conspicuous, and so in love that it made him want to empty his stomach right where he stood.
They were a lighthouse -and Lance was shrouded in the shadows.
Shaking his head, he reached to chug the rest of his drink and stood from the table -he refused to spend the night angry and bitter. He needed another drink. Or Ten.
Jealousy is a green-eyed monster but tonight, it has sapphire eyes.
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Lance was walking around the crowded room, attempting to locate the bar through the hazy atmosphere. It was no easy feat all things considered.
The copious amounts of alcohol sat heavy and swishing about in his stomach as he stumbled his way past a rowdy group of twenty-somethings, his vision blurred when he ducked out of the way of a rouge arm flying towards his face.
Maybe weaving through the various tables was not a good idea, he doubted anyone sober could see him behind them let alone a drunk person, and he did not like the idea of getting whacked in the nose. So, he scrubbed his hands over his face and breathed in deep to try and gain some semblance of sobriety as he continued on.
It was at least five minutes before he finally spotted the bar in the far corner. 'What a stupid place to put it' he thought with a giggle, his body already moving forwards.
He was halfway there when -in-between the mass of dancing bodies- he caught a glimpse of red leather and black hair. An almost pitiful burst of desperation shot through his veins as he took off into the throng of people with renewed vigor.
Despite the dizziness in his head and the nausea that rolled in his stomach at his frantic movements, he pushed past the last of the people in his way. His head swiveling and his eyes dancing around the room. He thought for sure that it was just a coincidence -it had to be. He was going to reach the bar and it was just going to be some guy who happened to have the same terrible fashion sense, there was just no way it was him.
But Lance was always weak when it came to him and on the off chance that it was -that it was really him and he was really here-
Lance couldn't let him slip through his fingers a second time.
When he finally reached the bar he staggered to a stop, his breath caught in his throat and liquid heat burned in his blood. He was sure everyone in the place could see his heart beating outside his chest. Because it wasn't just some guy standing at the bar, it was-
"Keith." Lances' voice quivered.
A distance away, leaning on the mahogany counter looking as beautiful as he did the night he'd left, with the same stupid mullet, red leather jacket, and black ripped jeans, was Keith.
His Keith-
Lance was stopped and staring, eyes wandering all over Keith's' form. He didn't care if he looked like a freak standing still in the middle of a crowded room, he didn't care if he was being gawked at like a goddamned zoo animal. All he cared about was Keith.
From his laced up black combat boots to the mop of raven hair curling around the nape of his neck, he was still perfect, in every single sense of the word.
Willing himself to take a few steps closer, Lance's gaze moved on, trailing down the delicate slope of Keith's nose, his ivory skin -still pale and flawless- his thick, dark lashes and-
Oh, Keith was looking right at him-
Lances' eyes widened as he swallowed, his throat feeling raw. He wanted to blame the alcohol, though he knew that wasn't the cause. It was Keith. Because of course it was.
It was always Keith Keith Keith-
His palms were sweaty and his breathing was uneven as Keith walked closer.
What was Keith going to say?! What was Lance going to say?! He had thought about this moment obsessively for four years! How could he not have anything to say! Shit, Keith is so close now he could practically smell him. Oh god, oh god-
"Lance?"
Oh he is so fucked.