Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was 8:00 p.m. Lance took a deep breath before knocking on the door. It had been quite a while since he had last seen his old friends and teammates, about a little more than two years since the last time they were all together and he heard their voices and laughter, and yet, behind the door, he could hear a familiar buzz that warmed his chest. The echoes rang louder in his head than the rain pouring down behind him, as if they were all still there in that same room where they used to rest after training, playing games and sharing stories, some of which were questionably true. But it wasn’t like that anymore. Not everyone was there.
For a moment, he wished that by stepping through the door, time would stop. He wished everything could be the way it was before the war. But things had changed, and seeing his friends, or what was left of them, would always remind him of that. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see them, he was eager to hug Hunk and hear the stories Takashi had to tell. Still, he couldn’t help the weight in his chest when he thought about how much time, and especially the war, had changed them all. The last time they met, the farewell had been so painful that Lance chose to distance himself. He convinced himself it was the easiest way to grieve everything the war had taken from them, especially from him. That day, driving down that lonely, rain-soaked road, he wondered if those wounds would ever truly heal.
Two years may not seem like much in hindsight, but it feels like an eternity when you’ve been away from something that once felt like home, your refuge, your family. Lance often asked himself whether things would have turned out differently if the war had ended another way. But neither he nor his friends had an answer to that question, so there was no point in dwelling on it. He held his hand in front of the doorbell for a moment. His hand trembled slightly. He didn’t know why he was so nervous, but he was. Behind that door awaited memories, some beautiful, others heartbreaking, as many friends as absences, and far too many things left unsaid. Just thinking about it made his stomach twist into a knot. However it was too late to turn back. He was already there, and he could hear the laughter on the other side. He drew in one last breath and, summoning a courage he wasn’t sure was real or just a shadow of what it once was, he rang the bell. It didn’t take more than ten seconds for the door to open.

- Lance! Finally! — before he could react, Hunk had already pulled him into one of his characteristically enthusiastic hugs. — We were about to start eating without you, buddy. — Lance melted into the embrace. It had been a while since he’d heard Hunk’s voice. A month, in fact. As the anniversary approached, Lance tended to isolate himself, shutting down. Hunk always scolded him for that.

- sorry I’m late, you know punctuality’s never been my strong suit — Lance said with a small smile as he pulled away. He scanned the room, and a chill ran down his spine. Everyone was looking at him. For a moment, he felt exposed, almost scrutinized. Had time worn him down that badly? He noticed Pidge walking over. She looked nervous. And Pidge didn’t usually get nervous.

- thank goodness! I thought you weren’t coming.— Her hug was less intense, but just as sincere. It helped him relax a little. Maybe it was all in his head. Maybe they’d just missed him as much as he’d missed them. — There’s something you should know before you go in…— she whispered while still holding him. — He’s here.
- What are you talking about? — Lance stepped back a bit more abruptly than he meant to. Pidge had stopped smiling, and she looked puzzled by his tone. Perhaps he’d spoken louder than he thought. — Katie, who’s here?

- Hi, Lance.

An extremely familiar voice greeted him from the hallway, and his heart skipped a beat when his eyes locked onto the source of that voice. It had been so long since he’d seen that dark, intense gaze that his skin broke out in goosebumps. He looked nearly the same, those same dark, lilac-toned indigo eyes, the same scar on his cheek, even the same intense stare… The only real difference was his jet-black hair, now longer and pulled into a low ponytail. Otherwise, time seemed not to have touched him at all. But it couldn’t be. He couldn’t believe it. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d imagined something like this. He dreamed of that voice, that gaze filled with memories, sometimes even while awake. Memories of long conversations under the glow of a small Altean lamp would ambush him at the most unexpected times. Sometimes, he could even remember the way he smelled. For years, all of it had existed only in his head. Maybe this was just one of those moments again, maybe he had only dreamed he’d driven here to reunite with them… But it wasn’t a dream. When he finally snapped out of his thoughts, it felt as though the past had hit him head-on. His knees nearly gave out.

- ...Keith?

Chapter Text

That morning, Keith woke up more startled than usual. Something weighed heavily on his chest, though he wasn’t exactly sure why. Every sound around him, from the rain hitting the window to the coffee pot beginning to boil downstairs, felt more intense than usual. The day dawned completely overcast, as if the sky itself doubted whether attending that reunion was a good idea. A part of him wondered if he even knew the people he was about to see again that afternoon. Out of them all, he only really kept in touch with Takashi, who never let more than two weeks go by without calling him. It wasn’t that he had forgotten the rest, after all, they had once been the closest thing he had to a family, and though not as often as he’d like, he still exchanged messages with most of them. Perhaps some more than others.

He walked over to the window and watched the raindrops slide down the glass for a few seconds. Somehow, that calmed him, or at least kept his mind busy. He’d spent the whole night tossing and turning, imagining every possible outcome for the dreaded reunion, and none of them ended well. Shiro had told him more than once that he was a doomsayer, and maybe he was right. When he turned to pick up his phone, he saw several unread messages from him, but figured he’d call him later. He wasn’t in the mood for a lecture. The smell of coffee wafting up the stairs and filling the hallway felt far more urgent.

- Keith, are you coming down for breakfast? – his mother called from the kitchen amidst the clatter of dishes. Truth be told, he wasn’t very hungry, but he couldn’t say no to a hot cup of coffee. He slipped on his shoes and left his room.

- I’ll be right there, Mom – he replied, his voice a little dull. He wondered if she would notice he hadn’t slept well and still wasn’t fully awake. Before heading downstairs, he stopped in front of the bathroom mirror. “You should cut that mullet off” echoed in his mind. It wasn’t a thought, it was a memory. A blurry, distant memory with a familiar voice. What had become of that voice? Did he think of him too? Trying to escape his thoughts and all the unanswered questions, he tied his hair back in a ponytail and headed to the kitchen.

- That coffee smells amazing.

- It’s still hot, be careful. – his mom said, handing him a steaming mug. She smiled, but he knew she wasn’t oblivious to the exhaustion on his face. Even so, he appreciated that she didn’t ask uncomfortable questions. His mother was so caring and tried hard, really hard, but there were things he wouldn’t know how to explain to her.

- Thanks. – As he took his first sip, he noticed her gaze was still fixed on him. – Is something wrong, Mom? – Krolia furrowed her brow. She seemed to be thinking about how to ask something. He was too fast assuming that conversation wouldn’t happen. She relaxed her face slightly, still watching him. Her gaze was intense.

- Do I have something on my face...?

- No... but you do look tired. Didn’t sleep well? – she asked, frowning again. She seemed more confused than concerned. Keith sighed. He couldn’t run from that conversation anymore.

- Not much… but it’s nothing. I’m just a little nervous. – Very, very nervous, in fact.

- Nervous? I thought you were excited to see Shiro and the rest of your friends again. You talk about them all the time. – she said with a gentle smile. He didn’t know how to tell her that, yes, he was looking forward to seeing them, but he wasn’t sure if they felt the same.

- Yeah, it’s just that… you know, it’s been a long time. – He wondered if his mother had picked up on the nervousness in his voice, but she didn’t seem to react.

- I don’t really know how long three decaphoebs are in human time, but it doesn’t seem like enough time to forget a friend. Besides, you’ve talked with them during this time, haven’t you?

Not all of them. But she sounded so sincere and certain that Keith tried to allow himself to believe it could be just like old times, that seeing his friends again would feel natural, as if no time had passed. He was probably fooling himself, but imagining the worst wasn’t going to help either. He repeated his mother's words like a mantra when he left for the reunion later that day.

The drive to Takashi’s house felt endless. He had accepted the invitation to the reunion almost instinctively, without giving it too much thought, as if he hadn’t already missed the last three. He was genuinely excited to see everyone again, and yet, now, just a few kilometers away from the house, he couldn’t help but wonder what they would receive him with. A knowing glance? A phrase that would ease years of distance? Maybe neither. He drove slowly, as if speeding would throw him to the lions before he was ready. Lance was going to be there. He was going to see him, years after they parted ways, and several months of zero contact. He didn’t even know if Lance would want to see him. It wasn’t like they had fought, but the last words they exchanged had been bitter. They’d barely spoken since, and yet, something inside him hadn’t moved from where it was that day. His hands remained steady on the wheel, but his pulse trembled slightly. His eyes were on the road, but his mind was elsewhere, replaying thre sound of laughter in the darkness of his room, long silences filled with shared glances, that bridge he never dared cross that still haunted him. Somewhere along the way, they had touched each other's souls, without ever saying it out loud. And now, years later, there was still a conversation hanging in the air, suspended between the wounds and the time lost.

He told himself wasn’t expecting much from this so-called reunion, but deep down, he knew was. He wasn’t looking for answers, not exactly. Maybe he just needed to make sure Lance was okay, that he hadn’t become just an echo in his memory. He was so deep in thought that it took him a moment to realize that, between the shadows of some old trees in the distance, Takashi’s house had come into view. Maybe Lance wouldn’t even be there, maybe he had decided not to come. He turned off the engine and sat still for a moment, staring at his reflection in the rearview mirror, wondering if there was anything left of the reckless boy who once had nothing to lose. And he thought, without wanting to think it, “I hope he still remembers me that way”. Then, not knowing if it was courage or just muscle memory, he stepped out of the car. He stood in front of the door and hesitated, wondering if he should simply turn around and drive back home. The muffled voices inside felt farther away than they really were, like they weren’t coming from behind the wall, but from the past. From a past that already felt distant. What if he wasn’t welcome anymore? What if he was no longer part of what once had been the closest thing he had to a family? He never told anyone, but he had gone far away because he was scared. Scared of being left behind again, scared they would one day realize he wasn’t truly one of them. These thoughts made him take a small step back, just before knocking.

He started to think maybe coming had been a bad idea. But he was already at the door, and if he left now, in a few minutes Takashi would be calling to ask where he was. It was too late.

He knocked.

- Keith! – Pidge was the one who opened the door. She looked… happy? Happy to see him? It didn’t take long to confirm it, because she immediately threw her arms around him in a hug. That made him finally breathe easier for the first time since he got out of bed.

- I’m glad to see you too, Pidge. – He melted into the hug. The rest of the group didn’t take long to come over and greet him just the same. Everything seemed calm, he allowed himself to think. They even looked genuinely glad to see him. But then he scanned the room, and the knot in his stomach tightened when he realized he wasn’t there. Did he hate him so much that he refused to come?

- Hey, Keith, can you help with the drinks? – Shiro’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. It seemed to be coming from the kitchen. Keith looked up and saw him peeking from behind the doorway, smiling, completely unaware of the doomsday scenarios Keith’s mind was playing out. “What am I even doing...?”

- Keith, buddy? – Shiro called again. Keith nodded and left the group to head toward the kitchen. He must’ve seen something in his face, because his smile started to fade the closer he got.

- He didn’t come, did he? – Keith asked bluntly. Takashi looked stunned for a second.

- Lance, Shiro. Where’s Lance? Is it because of me that he didn’t come? – The words barely made it out of his mouth. The guilt that had taken root in his stomach kept growing, fed by fear and doubt.

- What are you talking about, Keith? – Shiro’s voice was calm, but Keith couldn’t shake the feeling that he was hiding something. He was his older brother after all, he knew him too well.

- He just hasn’t arrived yet. You know he’s never been the most punctual. Relax, you’re among friends, not in a combat simulation. You don’t need to be on edge. – Shiro approached and pulled him into a hug. Keith let his shoulders drop and leaned into it. He was right, he’d been tense all day. - Come on, grab a couple of sodas and bring them to the living room. I’ll bring the snacks.

- Shiro… – Keith hesitated, a thousand versions of the same question running through his mind. He picked up a can in each hand and turned back towards his brother. – He knows I’m here, right?

- Lance? – Shiro averted his gaze. Keith knew that look, he was dodging the question. – I suppose he does.

"You suppose?"

- Takashi, didn’t you tell him I was coming? – He grabbed Shiro’s arm before he could walk out with the tray. This was starting to feel like a trap, and he cursed himself for not seeing it sooner.

- I guess Hunk did. Either way, it was kind of implied that we’d all be here. Don’t get paranoid, Keith. – Keith wasn’t so sure anything was implied, not after nine months of unanswered messages. He knew there were things Lance hadn’t forgiven him for, even if they never talked about them.

- What the hell does implied mean, Shiro? I haven’t seen him in nearly three years. – His voice rose slightly, and his body tensed with the words. He turned and looked at Hunk, Pidge, and Coran laughing in the living room, and quietly asked himself why he had let so much time pass. It was too late for regrets now.

- Keith, stop. Please. – Shiro set the tray on the counter and placed a hand on his little brother’s shoulder. Keith looked up. He seemed just as scared as the thirteen-year-old orphan he used to be, afraid of being left behind again. Shiro sighed.

- Take a deep breath. Lance doesn’t hate you, okay? No one here does. – Then he hugged him again, tight enough that the cans Keith held almost dented. “How do you know that” he thought of saying, but didn’t.

- Everything’s going to be okay. – Shiro said it with such sincerity that Keith almost let himself believe him.

At that moment, the sound of the doorbell echoed from the other side of the hall. Every muscle in Keith’s body tensed, and the surprise pulled him out of Shiro’s embrace. When Hunk opened the door, everything around Keith froze. He recognized him without needing to see his face. He would have even with his eyes closed. He swallowed hard. He could swear he felt his heart pounding out of his chest.The living room lights were dim, just the last rays of sunlight coming through the windows, but it was enough for that silhouette to burn itself into his retinas. His hair, slightly longer than the last time, hung messily over his forehead, a bit curlier than he remembered. His eyes, deep ocean blue, had lost some light but were still hypnotic. He remembered him being thinner, but now it looked like time had carefully carved his muscles. He was never particularly tall or broad, but there was something beautifully strong about him now. And yet, beyond all that, he was exactly the same. The same boy who never knew there was someone who looked at him like he was some kind of ethereal being. Who never realized that Keith had memorized the position of every single freckle on his skin. Who never believed he could be enough to make a heart beat with the force of the entire universe, just for him. And now he was here, on the other side of the room. Real. Human. Beautiful as ever. And just as unreachable as always.

Still, Keith felt the urge to get closer. He felt a tingling in his palms, like a shadow of the time their hands had brushed. Every step he took made it more real, he was there, speaking to Katie, alive, present, right in front of him. This time, he wasn’t dreaming. He wouldn’t vanish the moment he saw him. At least, that’s what Keith thought.

- Hi, Lance. – he said, before even thinking about it. It was more on instinct than intention. Lance looked up, and the moment their eyes met, the air around Keith grew heavy.
Those eyes, the color of the sea, reflected now confusion, panic, and a storm of undefined emotions he hadn’t anticipated. A sharp pain bloomed in Keith’s chest.

- ...Keith? – Lance’s voice reached him. He would’ve answered, but before a word could escape his lips, Lance took a step back and slammed the door shut with almost startling force. Keith stood there, frozen. Silent. Wondering if anyone else in the house had noticed the exact moment his heart broke into pieces.

Now he knew.

He should have never come.

Chapter Text

The silence that fell over the entire room was almost sepulchral. One could cut the tension with bare hands. Keith felt every gaze fall upon him, and he didn’t need to look at his friends to sense the way they were watching him. His eyes remained fixed on the door, as if he could pierce through it by looking at it. He felt a hand rest on his right shoulder, one cold and rigid like metal, but he barely reacted to it. The only thing occupying his thoughts was the way Lance had said his name, over and over again in his mind. It sounded so distant, so broken, so different from how he remembered it. There had been sadness in his voice, a deep sadness, but also traces of resentment, resentment that had likely been building for years.
- Keith… – he heard Shiro whisper, the sound fading before it could truly reach him. His head was pounding. – Are you okay, Keith? – Even if he wanted to answer, he wouldn’t have been able to. His throat felt dry, and a whirlwind of sharp emotions was knotting in his chest, cutting through it.
- I’d better go talk to him… – Hunk said from the other side of the room, his voice subdued, almost as if asking permission rather than making a suggestion. Keith wanted to refuse, to tell him that he had to talk to Lance, but the only thing he truly wanted was to get out of there, as far away as possible. He clenched his fists tightly.
- Keith, are you listening to me? – Barely, he thought, but stayed silent. He appreciated his brother’s attempt, but he just needed to leave. He turned sharply, leaving Shiro behind and heading for the back door, but someone grabbed his arm before could get there.
- Let go of me, Takashi. – He did a titanic effort to keep his voice from breaking. He failed.
- What will happen if you leave now? Are you going to wait another two and a half years in agony, thinking he hates you? – Those words struck him hard. He knew Shiro was right, leaving wouldn’t solve anything. But anything felt better than staying there, suffocating. – What good will that do you? I’m tired of watching you suffer over this, K—
- Shut up! – The shout broke apart as it left him, filled with both anger and sadness. His eyes welled with tears. His brother released his arm with a sigh; he knew that when Keith didn’t want to talk, no one could convince him otherwise. – Shut up… – He tried to lower his voice, aware of the way everyone had jumped at his initial outburst. He took a deep breath, or tried to, before declaring, - I knew I shouldn’t have come… - He heard his name behind him as he headed towards the kitchen, but didn’t turn around. All he could think about was the way Lance had said his name for the first time in two and a half years, with a bitter tone of resentment that would haunt his dreams.

Lance was sitting on the front steps, knees drawn to his chest, breathing heavily. It wasn’t the first time Hunk had found him like this, but it still made his heart ache to see his best friend in such a state. He approached silently and sat beside him, careful not to startle him. Lance didn’t say anything, but Hunk could guess what was going through his mind. Maybe the plan to help Lance reconcile with his past hadn’t been their best idea, he admitted to himself, though he had hoped Lance would understand the good intentions behind it. At that moment, he clearly wasn’t ready to.

- Buddy… – He placed a hand on Lance’s shoulder gently, as if afraid to break him with the touch. – …Do you want to talk about what happened in there? – Lance didn’t even turn to look at him. He must have been truly angry, and Hunk couldn’t fully blame him. He wanted to suggest getting out of the storm, but Lance cut him off.
- You mean that ambush my friends set up? – He finally turned to look him in the eye. He was hurt, but also angry. His gaze fierce in a way Hunk had rarely seen. Guilt hit him hard.
- Lance… – Hunk replied quietly. He wanted to defend his good intentions, but he knew Lance wasn’t entirely wrong. - All we were trying to do was hel—
- Help? You were trying to help? – Lance pulled away from Hunk’s hand, letting out a dry, sarcastic laugh. He was clearly upset, and it made Hunk feel smaller for a second. – How exactly do you think you’ve helped me, Hunk?
- Lance. – Hunk reached out for him again, but Lance was already standing, clearly intent on leaving. Hunk stood too and caught him by the wrist, stepping in front of him before speaking. – Like it or not, you’re going to listen to me… I’m your best friend, and I’ve been watching you suffer over this for almost three years. You’ve never told me why you’ve been avoiding Keith, but I know it hurts you.
- Maybe because there’s nothing to say, Hunk… – Lance tried to pull away, but Hunk had always been the strongest out of the five. He held Lance’s wrist firmly, his expression full of determination.
- Mate, I see the way you frown every time someone mentions him, and I notice how you try to be cold with him, even over messages. You two used to be inseparable, and nobody understands what happened, Keith won’t talk about it either. I don’t know what went down three years ago, but at some point, you’re going to have to tell me. – He hesitated for a moment, then finally let go of Lance’s wrist, releasing a long sigh with it. Before turning toward the house, he gave him a look full of compassion—though Lance could have sworn it looked more like pity. – He’s your friend too, isn’t he? None of this makes sense, Lance. This isn’t you.
- Hunk… – Lance seemed torn, unsure what he wanted to say. Hunk studied him for a few seconds. His gaze stayed fixed on the steps, his hands trembling slightly, whether from anxiety alone or from restrained anger, Hunk couldn’t tell. Finally, Lance clenched his fists, turned away, and headed for his car.

Hunk decided it would be better to call him the next day, and went back into the house where their friends were waiting with long faces. The plan had been an absolute disaster. As for Lance, his drive home felt endless. He tried not to let his emotions take over while he drove, but the tears came unbidden. The knot in his throat stayed with him the whole way, as if all the words he hadn’t said had gathered there, causing him deep pain. That morning, he had woken expecting to reunite with his friends, with a part of his past he missed, but instead, he had come face to face with the part of the past he wished he could erase forever. A sharp, aching sensation filled his chest. It wasn’t hatred, nor even resentment, it was something far more confusing and devastating: the weight of unresolved business, of an unfinished story. He tried with all his might to think of anything else, to focus on the sound of the rain against the windshield, anything that could keep his mind occupied. For nearly three years, he had been trying not to think about that last conversation, yet now it replayed endlessly in his head, as if it had just happened again. He didn’t want to admit it, but that memory was impossible to erase, because Keith had never been just unresolved business to him, he had always been a recurring echo Lance couldn’t let go of, scared the memory itself would disappear. Holding on to those memories with him was far easier than facing the fact that Keith was gone, living his life far from where everything they could have had was right there, within their reach.

Chapter Text

2 years before

- Can you stop moving, please? – Lance scolded him, though his voice kept that affectionate tone he used with his friends. He set the disinfectant aside to wrap the bandages around the cuts Keith had made on his hand during training. – If you don’t stay still, I’ll hurt you, Keith! – he almost sounded adorable. In the past year Lance had stopped shining the way he once did, sometimes going days without speaking at all, so seeing him regain his usual tone, and the fact that he even suggested they train together after so long gave Keith a flicker of hope. That was the reason why Keith came whenever he could, ever since the war ended and they lost Allura. He needed to know Lance was okay, and part of him knew he had to be there, to be the person his friend needed. At least, that was the main reason.

- Sorry, sorry… – Keith laughed, releasing a small chuckle. – That tickles – he lifted his gaze, but Lance was too focused on fixing the bandages properly, brows furrowed and wearing an almost childlike expression of concentration. Definitely adorable.

- You need to be more careful. If it’s not your shoulder popping out of place, it’s a new wound… – his tone still carried accusation, though it sounded more like the one he used with Nadia and Silvio than truly scolding. Keith couldn’t help but smile.

- Need I remind you that you’re the one who suggested sparring? – he joked, but the look Lance gave him made it clear this wasn’t the moment for teasing. – Don’t worry, it barely hurts, Lance. – he added, with the most sincere smile he could manage. Truth be told, it did hurt, but he would have gladly done it all over again just to see that worried expression on Lance’s face while helping him.

- I suggested it because I know you like it, even if you sometimes can't control your strength. – Lance finished wrapping the bandages and tightened them at Keith’s wrist, giving him a look that came off more comical than reproachful. – And also because it helps you clear your mind. You’ve been serious all day... what’s wrong, Keith? – That last question carried a slightly inquisitive edge. Keith forced another fake smile and shook his head, but Lance didn’t seem convinced.

- Nothing’s wrong, don’t worry. Everything’s fine. – The moment the words left his mouth he knew they hadn’t sounded convincing, and the way Lance raised his eyebrows confirmed it.

- Right. Now tell me the truth, mullet. – He released Keith’s hands, but his expression remained completely serious. Even if he had sounded convincing, it was nearly impossible to fool Lance when he was suspicious of something. At least it was for him.

“Shit”

- It’s been a while since you last called me that. – He tried to change the subject, but Lance wasn’t having it. His frown deepened, forming little creases on his forehead. If it hadn’t been for the tension of the moment, Keith would have found it endearing.

- Don’t change the subject, Keith.

- It’s nothing, Lance…

- Keith! – His voice pitched several tones higher than usual when he was frustrated. Keith knew there was no escaping now. He lifted his gaze, expecting irritation, maybe even anger, but what he found on Lance’s face was worry, tinged with a vulnerability that stabbed painfully in his chest. Lance hated being lied to.

- It’s just… – Keith stuttered, locking eyes with him. Lance’s eyes were expectant, curious, so blue they were almost hypnotic. – I have to leave next week… it’s not a dangerous mission, but… – As he spoke, he watched Lance’s expression darken, and he hated himself for it. There were few things in the world he hated more than seeing sadness in those beautiful blue eyes.

- Next week? For how long? – Lance’s eyes dropped to the bandages on his hands. His face now reflected something caught between sadness and disappointment. Keith wished he had lied.

- I'm not sure yet, but probably six months… it’s a humanitarian mission, but there’s a lot of work to do. There are rebel groups in the area, and that always complicates things. – He stretched out his arm to reach for Lance’s hand again, but Lance didn’t respond. He stayed still, staring at his own hands, as if searching for the right words to voice what he felt, though both of them already knew.

- Six months… isn’t that too long? – His eyes, moments ago as bright as the ocean, seemed to have darkened several tones when he lifted them again. Keith hated to see him like that.

- It is… too long, yeah. But this is what I do, and they need me. – Keith tried to sound confident, proud, forcing a half-smile with little to no success.

“Come with me”

For a few seconds, silence pressed in, broken only by the summer breeze brushing against the windows. Keith knew asking him that would be selfish, that after everything they went through, Lance had left that life behind and he had no right to ask, but deep in his heart, he would have given anything to go back to when they were ready to fight side by side, to risk their lives for each other. Lance stayed quiet, motionless in front of him, eyes still fixed on him and so full of disappointment and sorrow it nearly tore Keith apart. He didn’t know what to do to erase that sadness, but he needed to. Desperately. He squeezed Lance’s hand between his own, refusing to look away, as if staring hard enough could restore the sparkle grieve took from him. But it didn’t. They stayed in silence for seconds that felt like hours to Keith. Tension filled the room. And when he realized no answer was coming, Keith rose from the couch with a sigh.

- I should go, it’s getting late and we leave early tomorrow. – He tapped his left thigh twice, and in less than a second Kosmo was at his side, obedient and alert. – I’ll call you, I promise.

- Wait! – Lance said at last, and before Keith could take a step, he stood and grabbed his arm. – Please, wait… – His eyes fixed on the floor, hands fidgeting nervously. – Stay. – When Keith finally met his gaze, it was intense, almost hopeful, and Keith’s heart skipped a beat. Before he could answer, Lance went on. – I know this is important, but… just a couple more days? That way we can give you a proper farewell. I can’t let my best friend leave just like that. – Lance offered a smile.

Keith took a moment to let the request sink in. The one who owned his heart had just asked him to stay, only to then call him his “best friend.” It wasn’t the first time, after all, it was true. They had been through a lot together, and Keith had no friend more important to him than Lance. Yet hearing those words, paired with that request, cracked open an old wound in his chest he had spent years trying to seal. The words resonated loudly in his head. He would give anything to stay, to remain by the side of the person who haunted his thoughts every night before sleep, before every single mission. But staying wouldn’t make his feelings be magically reciprocated. They weren’t on the same page, and asking for more would be selfish. As much as he wanted to throw himself into Lance’s arms and kiss him until the world around them disappeared, that would only make things worse. He had to end the conversation before Lance could notice the way his heart twisted in agony inside his chest. They were friends, and nothing else. He needed to put space between them.

- I’m sorry, Lance… I can’t. – Keith fought to keep his voice steady, but the lump in his throat threatened to shatter him before he reached the door. – They’re waiting for me, I have to go. – He walked toward the door without saying anything else, without looking back, because he knew if he did, if he saw Lance’s face, he would never be able to leave. He heard him calling out, once, twice, three times. When Lance’s voice cracked slightly, something inside him cracked too. But he knew this was for the best, that distance would help him think clearly. They both needed this. A week later, Keith called Lance during a break to wish him a happy birthday, but there was no answer.

Present

When Keith finally returned to the present, he took a look at his face. Tears soaked his skin, and in the mirror he saw everything he despised about himself. Fear and regret weighed heavily on his shoulders, reminding him of every mistake, every time he had run, every time he had left something, someone, behind. He couldn’t stop crying.

- Keith? Are you in there? – His mother’s voice came from the other side of the door. He had no idea how long he’d been locked in the bathroom. – I’m coming in.

- No! No… mom please don’t come in… – He tried to fake composure, but his voice cracked, and fooling his mother had never been easy.

- Are you crying? – Keith could hear how she tensed, her worry bleeding into her voice. He didn’t have time to answer as Krolia opened the door seconds later, not waiting for permission.

- I’m fine, mom, really… – He tried to sound convincing while wiping at the tears that only made room for more, streaming down his cheeks without mercy. He knew she wouldn’t buy it.

- What happened? – She cupped his chin with one hand, brushing tears away with the other. Her frown showed a concern that filled Keith with guilt. His mom was a high-ranking member of the Blade of Marmora, she had far more important things to deal with than her son’s heartbreak. But she was also his mother.

- He hates me… – He admitted and lowered his head, trying to hide how much saying it out loud shattered him. It didn’t work. Krolia gently lifted his face again, confusion mixing with worry. – Lance, mom. He ran away as soon as he saw me there… – Keith clarified through broken sobs, almost whispering as if speaking it louder would make it truer.

- I don’t think he hates you, Keith. – Krolia tucked a few damp strands of hair behind his ear, offering him a soft, understanding smile. – It’s not possible to hate someone so important.

- I saw it in his eyes... He didn’t want me there, and it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have let so much time pass… I ruined everything. – His words came out uneven while tears spilled relentlessly, his face soaking and burning and his chest pierced by sharp, suffocating pain. He had seen war, he had faced destruction, and yet he could remember few things more painful than that look of hatred in the eyes of the only man he had ever loved.

- Listen to me, Keith, you need to calm down. – Krolia placed her hand on his chest, mimicking the motion of breathing deeply so he would follow. With difficulty, Keith tried matching her pace in an attempt to steady himself. It wasn’t until she pulled him into her arms that he managed to breathe with some calm, still sobbing against her shoulder. – I don’t know what you think you saw in his eyes, but I’m sure tomorrow you’ll see it more clearly. Rest will help you.

She walked with him to his room, then sat by his side on the bed, stroking his hair and wiping his tears until Keith felt too bad for keeping her awake and pretended to fall asleep. Truth be told, he didn’t manage to sleep at all that night. Every time he closed his eyes, the memory of that last conversation at Lance’s house blurred into the sorrow and anger he’d seen in his gaze just hours ago, making that stabbing pain return to his chest. The hours dragged on endlessly, as if the universe itself enjoyed his torment. The silence in the room was deafening, filled with memories, bad decisions, things left unsaid. As shadows of a distant past closed in, he wondered when was the last time he felt like he belonged. He thought of the Castle of Lions, the last time he had spent with his mom and Kosmo in the space whale, and Lance’s house, summer two years ago.