Archive of Our Own

Keith sat up with a gasp the moment his eyes opened, making his body ache from the sudden jolt. Between a shortage of breath and a heart beating like thunder in his chest, he looked around for any sign of the nonexistent danger his mind was so set on being there. Soon his eyes fell on the healing pod beside his bed— no, not a healing pod, it was the memory emulator.

The pod was still sealed shut, he noted, a sigh of relief leaving him at the knowledge that Lance was alright. Even though the inside wasn't visible, the steady up and down of the gently glowing heart rate displayed on it was enough to calm him down.

He finally looked around and noticed that the soft blue lights adorning the castle's ceiling were the only source of illumination. It must be the night-time then, or at least the Altean equivalent of it that they'd been following for the last couple of years.

When they first got there, the castle didn't have any previously installed programs to differentiate between night and day. And being in the middle of light-years worth of emptiness with no stars nearby to use as an anchor didn't really help when they gradually started to lose their sense of time, along with other cognitive functions.

So, after witnessing Pidge's wrath in their sleep deprived state, Hunk and Shiro—yeah Shiro, Keith had his suspicions that at least 70% of that man’s energy came from sleep alone—came up with the idea to replace the lights with ones that changed on a 24-hour cycle.

Although it was mainly done so their sleep schedules wouldn't get too messed up, putting the castle in a dimmer lightning made it feel calmer and helped with the ever-present wariness at the back of their minds as well. And that in itself, was a luxury that Keith was sure none of them were going to take for granted.

Their Altean companions didn't seem to mind it, rather they were quite fascinated by the lights that followed the same pattern of the Earth orbiting around the sun. According to Coran, who had taken half an hour of finger counting to figure it out, Altean days were just a few minutes longer than Earth's. Keith wasn’t sure if he should be impressed or skeptical…

He squinted his eyes at the sudden brightness when the door to the medical bay opened. He sat up straighter as Shiro and Allura came to stand by the bed. Coran followed them and silently walked to the monitor that connected the bed with the pod; instantly starting to go through it with an intensity Keith didn’t think was possible by the ever-so-cheery man.

But he also knew that everyone expressed their worry in different ways. And right then, they were so worried it was borderline agonizing.

"Are you doing alright?" Shiro was the first to speak, his usual firm voice filled with worry.

Keith hadn't really thought about that question. Was he alright? Physically? Yeah, he was definitely fine. Emotionally though? A wrack might just be the perfect word to describe him.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he replied curtly. And by the look on Shiro's face it was clear that he didn't sound very convincing. But after exchanging a Look with Allura—not as subtly as they'd like to think—they decided to leave it for the time being.

That's when Coran spoke up, saving Keith from any more questions he didn't have the answer to, "All the readings suggest that number three here is no longer in any immediate danger! Actually, he should be waking up any tick now."

Keith's heart was hammering in his chest, desperately reaching out to the only thing he'd been able to think of for the last seven days. Be it in the suffocating grip of anxiety, or filled with the kind of wishful anticipation that could only be caused by a questionable number of painkillers.

In their last battle, Lance had been captured by the Galras. Deciding on playing dirty, they had attacked him at a moment of weakness before taking him with them and vanishing mid-battle.

It'd taken them—Pidge and Hunk mostly, with the rest of them doing anything they could—a whole week to figure out where the Galran ship had gone to.

A week filled with dread so nerve racking, that the whole castle had been covered in the shadows of darkened fury. Every one of them were hanging on the very edge, with no one to make inappropriate jokes and risk them losing potential allies by laughing at the wrong moments. No one to lighten the mood by playing old Earth songs on the castle speakers. Keith still didn’t know where he got those from, Pidge probably.

The foundation of their bond was gone, leaving all the other lions connected by a broken bridge.

Voltron was missing its very core. It's Blue Paladin. The eye of the team, and the morals of a weapon.

A whole week of Keith trying to keep his thoughts from spiraling. Tiring himself out to the point of almost collapsing in the middle of breakfast, though he couldn't really shallow anything over the ever-present knot in his throat anyways.

Until finally having enough of him, Shiro took him aside after lunch on the third day and told him—threatened, actually, it was his dad voice and they all knew it meant finality—that he would be forced to restrict Keith’s access to the training deck if he couldn't recognize his own limits.

Pidge had already kicked him out of their lab after he’d gotten a little too jittery from all the waiting, and the two of them had snaped at each other one too many times…

It wasn’t that Keith didn't understand why. He really did. But if there was anything he hated more than Shiro forcing him to pause and take a break from whatever he was doing, it was to actually not have anything to do. He couldn't bear to just stand still and wait for the others to figure things out. Even though he knew that the fastest way to track Lance down was to let the science duo handle it.

But really, he didn’t know what he was supposed to do with all the unadulterated rage running through his veins…

Lance had been kidnapped. Snatched away from right in front of him, and leaving them with no idea of his whereabout. It made Keith feel sick in the stomach every time the thought of what the Galras could do— were doing to Lance crossed his mind.

It might've been the fastest rescue mission they'd ever planned after finally getting the location of the ship Lance was being kept at.

It was a different ship from the one that had attacked them; bigger but definitely not made for battle. There weren't many guards either. The empty gray rooms were lacking any signs of someone ever living there— made truly for the sake of practicality. The same as all the other Galran ships they'd seen so far.

A stray thought of the way Lance always complained about how the Galras could at least put some personality in their ships crossed his mind. The little pout on his lips when Keith asked why that even mattered wasn’t something he had paid much attention to back then.

Keith had never thought he'd be missing those silly exchanges, that at the moment, felt so insignificant. But then again, that's the whole thing, isn't it? Everything in life means everything and nothing at once. And it will all mean something different at different points in time.

The whole ship was a laboratory; they soon found out. And the way all colors drained from Shiro's face really made Keith hope that it had been one of those battle cruisers instead. Anything to make sure Lance was alright.

The room they found him in was enough to make anyone feel nauseous. A room full of machines and medicines alike, looking more complex than the codes on Pidge's computer. The floor was littered in tangles of wires connected to one another from every direction.

It wasn't the kind of lab that was used for research. No—

It was built for experiments.

And in the middle of them all was Lance. Inside a pod not much different than the ones back at the castles medical bay. Yet, they felt worlds apart.

Despite hearing Shiro telling them not to do anything reckless, Keith couldn't stop himself from running inside the room, coming to a halting stop right in front of the pod.

Seeing him standing frozen in place Hunk had come forward, but could only let out a chocked sound at the sight of what Keith was looking at.

Blood.

The glass was stained crimson— an undeniable evidence of struggle that made Keith's heart shutter.

It was such a contradiction to the peaceful expression on Lance's face that his throat felt like it was closing up. But beneath all the hurt and the grief was the smallest spark of pride that threatened to consume him like a wildfire.

Because Lance hadn't given up.

He had fought. He still was.

The next few minutes went on a blur of the others joining them, and taking the pod back with them where they could figure out their next move in the safety of the castle. Keith followed along, leaving muscle memory to guide him, not being able to hear anything beyond the constant ringing in his ears.

The one thing— only thing he was certain of was that he couldn't lose Lance. No matter what.

And standing amidst the unimaginable horrors of war, and a helplessness so great that he felt himself going numb, Keith came to the stunning realization of just how much of his heart belonged to Lance.

All his silent prayers, his fears and his desires were intertwined with the Blue Paladin so deeply that Keith's thoughts couldn't seem to move an inch without grazing into a piece of him.

~~~

Lance stared aimlessly at the crowd of people outside the window. The train had just started to move. The quite hum of the engine coming to life felt like the rumbling of thunder beneath him.

It was a grand feeling; being vulnerable with the need of help from something that could just as easily destroy, if not faster. And Lance was no stranger to it either, in fact, he knew this feeling a little too well, even though he couldn’t recall where it was from.

He’d been getting a strange sense of tedious familiarity for the last few days; one that he could not put a name to.

It was a bright day, small pieces of cloud floating around aimlessly. It had been that way since he came home for the summer vacation. Almost as if the Earth was waiting for something to wake her from the silent slumber of summer she had fallen into.

There hasn't been a single gloomy day, not even when his family had decided to have BBQ for dinner a couple of days ago. And it always rains when they decide to have BBQ for dinner.

His vision drifted in and out of focus, getting lost in memories hidden behind the mist of time—

He, along with his brothers and sisters would run around in the beach, wearing the ocean as their crown; shining brighter than any diamond with the flickering reflection of the stars above. And the scolding of his parents would be mixed with the sound of laughter, like silver bells, as they'd feign being mad at them for getting sand everywhere. Light drizzle would come and go the whole night, as if the clouds were following a secret schedule of their own. Never staying for so long to take the fire out, but still enough to make the breeze rise goosebumps under their drenched clothes.

It was so long ago, yet Lance would rather forget how to breath than ever let go of the memory of those nights.

Suddenly, a glimmer of black caught his eyes from across the platform. But the moment he turned his head, it was gone. Gone, like it'd never been there to begin with. 

Another shadow, a little closer than the last. A jacket, cropped sloppily at the waist. The silhouette of a man wearing it. Frantically looking around, searching.

Blink. And gone again.

Lance leaned backwards against the window to get a better look. 

There was a man standing by one of the benches at the platform— exactly where he thought the man he saw was. But this time, something wasn't right. He couldn't tell if it was the length of his hair that wasn't long enough. Or the cut of his jacket that was a little too long... 

Too long compared to what though, that had seemed to escape his mind.

As he tried to remember where he might've seen it before, a sudden haze started spreading from the edges of his memory. As if he was forgetting something awfully important. But like a dream, the more he tried to remember, the further it slipped out of his grasp. Leaving his mind both empty and clustered all at once…

Lance looked around the compartment of the train in hopes of clearing his mind. Light from the midday sun was coming in from the windows on both sides, flooding everything in a golden blaze. It was almost empty, save for the few teenage girls at one corner, gossiping among themselves.

There were also the two middle-aged men dozing off near the door on the other side, one of their head slummed over his partners shoulder, while the other’s resting on top of his. Lance felt a small tug in his chest at the simplicity of the gesture, a little smile involuntarily taking over his lips as he turned away.

He tried thinking back to as far as he could remember. Where was he before that summer? When did he get home? How come he hasn't talked to any of his friends since the vacations started? His friends…

Where were they again? Who… were they?

A memory—or perhaps something else, something more—came flashing into his mind. Of dark circles under the eyes and the distant smell of leather in hot summer nights. Of hands that are always cold despite the weather and of someone he felt like he should know. But he didn't. 

Then it was gone. The train left the station and there were no more people to look at. Nor could he see the spot where the man was anymore.

The only proof that he hadn't imagined it all was the lingering ache deep in his chest. Like his heart was trying to break free from its confinements behind his ribs and go after it. What it was, he couldn't remember, but something in him seemed to.

There was an unyielding desire to follow and never let go. A longing that could be compared to the one of a man wishing to return home after spending years at war. A vicious wish, like hands painted in crimson, yet so innocent in its vulnerability.

The walk from the station back to his house wasn't very long. The roads were the same as always, the trees were bright green even in the heat of the summer and the sky just the perfect shade of cerulean. Everything was perfect. Or maybe that's how it was supposed to be.

A life filled with the comfort of familiarity. But then, why did it feel so foreign to him? As if this wasn't where he was supposed to be. Like something was missing.

How strange that he felt as if the blue of the sky wasn't something he was used to.

Glancing around in thought, like his mind was subconsciously looking for answers, his eyes suddenly fell on the plastic bag in his hand. Right. The groceries. His mom had said she needed them before dinner. He should hurry back…

And now Lance was slightly starting to panic at the fact that whenever he tried to think too much of— anything related to what’d bought him to where he was, he found nothing but that strange haze at the back of his mind.

He wasn't stupid, it was almost as if something was actively stopping him from thinking of those crocked smiles that wrinkled the eyes around the edges, and short-tempered comebacks on the silliest of topics. But no face. There was no face for him to connect with any of those scattered memories. He took a deep breath and decided not to do anything too impulsive just yet.

As he entered the house, the first thing his eyes found—as though more familiar than the house itself—was the Garrison's uniform jacket hanging by the door. There was no way he wouldn't recognize the bright orange color of those. It was a size too big for him, meaning Veronica was here.

All his senses got filled with an overwhelming amount of stimulation as he went farther into the house. The smell of dozens of spices from his mom's cooking, along with the sound of laugher coming from his right where the kitchen was.

"You're finally back! I was starting to think I'd go gray by the time you brought the bread," said Rachel as soon as she saw him at the doorway, making Nadia laugh from her place on her lap.

"Oh please, are you sure you aren't going gray already? You're getting old Rach, accept it," Lance called back as he made a beeline for the fridge to put some of the groceries in. "Where's Vero? Thought I saw her jacket by the door."

It was his mom who answered, as she entered the kitchen while drying her hand on her apron, "Went upstairs to put her bag down. Can you believe she only brought a single bag of clothes! Says she can't stay the whole vacation, has work to do." She then turned to him with narrowed eyes, "You better visit more than that sister of yours once you finally get into that school, mijo! How am I gonna live without my little boy!"

What…? What did she mean once? He already went there… didn't he? He could swear he did. So she should already be living without him. But she sounded so genuine, enough to make him feel a sudden surge of homesickness so strong that he'd never felt before.

How come, he felt so nostalgic while standing in his own house, surrounded by family?

His heart yearning for a place he wasn’t even certain actually existed.

Taking in a shuddering breath, he decided to take a long bath to clear his mind. It must be the sun getting to him. Because the other options were something he couldn't dare to think about.

And a long shower he took, one that'd definitely get his sisters to start scratching at the door. But it didn't, for some reason, no one came to annoy him even when he was following through all the steps of his skincare routine. It was nice— a little too nice that it felt rather unusual for the McClain household.

When he went back to the kitchen Veronica was already there, talking to Rachel and his mom with a big smile on her face. When was the last time he'd seen his whole family together? It should be perfect. Really. Everyone together and happy. But that's the thing, his family wasn't the type to be together and happy. They weren’t sweet and beautiful like cotton-candies and flower beds.

No, they were sweet, like when even water tastes sweet in the heat of the midsummer sun. And they were beautiful, like the glaze of a knife is beautiful right after being sharpened. They were the type who spoke up and glared at the authority when needed. That’s why it didn't really add up to see them being so… pacific.

An unknown tear in his heart suddenly opened up and started to bleed, seeping through every other emotion— unknown but not new. No, he was certain that it'd always been there. Just hidden. Intentionally even, perhaps.

A desire so deep, it terrified him that he might destroy what he longed for, just from the weight of his emotions alone.

But before he could say anything, a hard knock at the front door made him jump out of his thoughts. The knock sounded strangely far way, further than it should. He went to take it, since he was still standing fairly close to the door.

The floorboards made cracking noises with every footstep, a testament to all the things the house had been through. A house, few miles from the beach. Built on the smell of sea salt and the first rays of the rising sun. Standing on pillars of children's laughter and lover's quarrels that are bound to turn into giggles.

Every part of it was filled with the memories of love and loss alike, that they gave it an entity of its own. It was a symbol of safety to him. Of shelter and comfort.

Looking down, his eyes fell on the dark wood right in front of the kitchen door. The one that his dad couldn't find a matching color for after he and Rachel had broken the previous one while playing with the ancient grandfather clock they had gotten from a relative.

The clock still stood right beside the door, ticking the time away. Lance squinted a little, suddenly confused at the time it was showing. It's not that he couldn't see it. He just couldn't— understand it, despite it being right in front of him. Almost as if his mind had refused to grasp what his eyes were seeing.

Another knock. Sharper and more urgent.

The moment he opened the door his breath was taken away at the sight of the man standing in front of him. He looked around the same age as Lance, black hair and red jacket paired with dark circles and leather gloves.

"Hey…," said the guest at his door. If he didn't know any better, he’d say it sounded almost like the guy was— nervous? Hesitant maybe?

And Lance knew this boy, he knew him well. Intimately even. Not just by his face, but his mind and heart too. he knew him because he—

A sharp pain seared through his mind just as he thought he was finally remembering something. It made him squeeze his eyes shut and put his hands over them, making a pained sound. All the fog in his memory was turning into a whirlwind of confusion at this point.

"Lance! Are you okay…!? What's wrong?" The boy stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder. The touch so familiar that it left Lance wondering if anything else was real at all.

Startled by the sudden thought, he took a step back, "I'm fine." Lance looked back at him and straightened up with a little cough, "Do I… know you?"

The way the man's expression changed, as if he’d just been informed that his puppy had gotten lost, was enough to make Lance almost regret asking the question. Almost— if anything, it made him even more certain that he knew something. So he forced himself to continue, "Why do I feel like I've met you before?"

The man just kept looking at him, trying to find something in Lance's eyes, something he himself wasn’t aware of. But seemingly not finding what he was looking for, he took a deep breath, like he was preparing himself for battle, or maybe willing himself to not break down, Lance wasn't so sure.

"Must've seen me 'round the neighborhood. I'm a new employee at the mechanic's next block. They said… your car's been heating up lately?"

"Oh…," Lance didn't know why there was a sudden sense of disappointment filling his chest, not when he had no idea what he was hoping for. "Okay, wait here, I'll go grab the keys."

~~~

Keith peered inside the house after Lance had disappeared behind a door at the right. He couldn't see him but there were voices coming from the inside. Lance's voice, that he could recognize anywhere. Along with a few others. Lance's sisters maybe?

Despite the door being open, he couldn't bring himself to step inside. It was Lance's childhood house. And Keith couldn't do that. No matter what it was for, he couldn't break his trust like that. It already felt wrong enough to even be there.

Suddenly he sensed movement at his peripheral, his hand instinctively going for his blade, just to remember that it wasn't with him.

Before he could panic—or find any questionable alternatives—he saw a little boy. He couldn't be more than eight, but what got Keith’s attention, was the awful resemblance he had to Lance. Same brown hair that curled at the edges and freckles just a bit lighter than Lance's. Probably unnoticeable, if only he hadn't spent so much time staring at Lance, wishing for a chance to press his lips against every single one of them.

He really had liked Lance for a long time, huh? How he hadn't realized that sooner was beyond him.

The boy might be a family member of Lance's. Keith could remember one late night walk, when they'd accidentally crossed paths. And instead of going their own ways they'd sat together in the observatory. Forgetting all the silly disagreements that occurred in the light of the day, the quietness of the night urging them to find solace even in the middle of a war.

That's when Lance had mentioned how much he disliked the silence. Growing up in a house that was always filled with hundreds of different sounds.

The little boy stopped at the door, eyes widening after seeing Keith in there, but narrowing to slits just as quickly. And before he could say anything, the boy tilted his head to the side and asked, in a forced-deep voice, "Who are you?"

Perplexed by the question Keith stuttered out an answer, "I'm Keith, Lance's frien— I mean I'm here to fix your car…" He really hoped the boy hadn't caught on the little slip up.

"Hmm, do you go to his school?" Yeah, no, he'd definitely caught on that.

"I used to, yeah…" He couldn't grasp why he was being asked of something from so long ago— of a time that no longer aligned with their present in any way. But then again, Lance has always had a vivid imagination, one that he wasn't hesitant to nourish. So his mind was bound to be lively, filled with people and complex emotions.

"Ohhh, are you his boyfriend, then? You look like his boyfriend," the boy said with a beaming smile, all traces of trying to look intimidating gone with the wind. Like he'd finally connected all the dots of an enigma code.

"Uhh, not really? What'd you mean I look like his… boyfriend?" He could feel his cheeks getting hot and prayed that it wasn't as obvious from the outside— so what if it wasn’t real? He didn't want to embarrass himself like that!

"Hmm, I don't know… I think I’ve seen you two together," the boy looked deep in thought while answering. The kind, that a kid shouldn't know how to do, but also exactly how Keith felt. Maybe the surrounding did influence one’s thoughts.

Keith couldn't help but wonder what the inside of his own mind was like. What his memories would look like from a different perspective. Would it be cozy and warm like a summer night?

Like the days of his childhood when he and his dad would sit together and watch TV shows from decades ago. Having dinner in the living room couch ‘cause they were too engrossed in the plot to pause it.

Or were those days too far away now?

A distant past buried under all the things that followed behind. One that only ever surfaces back up in the form of fever dreams, a line between reality and make-belief. The warmth of blankets and his father's hugs turning into cold nights spent alone in the desert. The food they used to cook together while making a mess of the kitchen getting replaced by the same bland instant noodles for days on end.

Maybe it'd still be a summer night, but the ones that got so hot with humidity it made him feel like he was suffocating.

Or it might be a chilly morning of the late winter, with signs of blossom just beginning to show. The days when Shiro would drag him out of his room and take him to lunch along with Adam. Moments when despite all the hardships at the unfamiliar place, he could feel the slightest spark of hope in his heart; seeing the couple be so fearlessly in love.

Or were those too lost in time— beyond reminiscence? Would the hollowness of losing Shiro overshadow the happiness he dared to think he could keep forever? Would the cries coming from the second room of their apartment be louder than the echo of phantom laugher that still haunted the old place?

Keith could never forget those days, when he and Adam had been left to fend for themselves. Unseeing eyes staring into the distance. Yet fresh flowers replacing the old ones every morning. Either from the tenderness of grief, or the silence of denial. He didn't know which one would've been more tragic.

Ring made to adorn a finger sitting on the nightstand, gathering dust— neither dared to be touched, nor acknowledged.

He's lost every person he ever had by his side. He couldn't let that happen again. Couldn't let Lance go. And if that meant risking his own sanity a little bit, then be it.

The rhythmic sound of keys clinking against each other brought him out of his thoughts. Lance was back and the child was gone. When did he go back? Had Keith been spacing out or did it had something to do with the simulation?

"Let's go, the garage is over there," Lance said as they started for the backyard. They walked past a rusty fence and Keith's eyes fell on the small room with a bright red roof. It was separate from the house, beat up from the years behind it, yet well taken care of. Surrounding it were trees full of flowers Keith had never seen before. Some so vibrant in color that they could rival the ones they’d seen back in Olkarion.

He looked back at Lance. The rays of the setting sun were radiating outward from every direction behind him, lightening him up like an angel shaped from fire itself. He looked so hauntingly beautiful that Keith couldn't believe he was real.

The irony, cause in that moment he was the only thing real to Keith. The only thing that mattered.

Keith had seen him so full of life few times before. Often, when he sneaked out of briefings while Shiro or Allura weren't looking.

Keith always took the job to find him and bring him back upon himself. Every single time, hiding his own wishes behind faux annoyance. And if the others caught on it, they didn't say.

Lance loved to meet the people of different cultures and beliefs. For someone talking about parades as much as he did, Keith would find him spending quite moments with the civilians—specially children—almost every time.

It'd never been a secret that he missed his family dearly. So this setup that his mind had decided to build as a last resort of keeping him safe wasn’t as surprising to Keith as he'd thought it would be.

It was the blazing proof of just how fiercely Lance loved.

Keith couldn't stop his eyes, even if he wanted to, from traveling across his body. The dip of his waist looked more pointed than usual under the loose fabric of his tank top. And his legs— God his legs, Keith could stare at them forever and never get tired.

"Hey, Keith," came Lance's voice, like honey and the cold breeze in late summer evenings.

"Hmm."

"My eyes are up here." Keith's head shot up at that, heat creeping up his neck and settling—mercilessly—on his face, flashing his cheeks and ears a deep red.

Lance's amused smile had turned into full blown laugher by the time Keith willed a scowl on his face. It wasn't his fault, okay? Lance was just too damn distracting. And he really hoped the others wouldn't be able to figure out why his heart was suddenly beating so fast…

The others. Right. He was here on a mission. And they were running out of time.

He took a deep breath and straightened his back. He couldn't let himself get carried away, not when so much was at stake, "Lance."

"Yes, Keith," he replied with a rise of his eyebrows, lips pulled into that lazy smile of his. But it was fake— forced.

And that could only mean Lance had already noticed that something wasn't right.

"No listen, you—" He internally cursed himself for not thinking of what to say beforehand, "You don't belong here. This isn’t real. Lance, you have to remember where you come from."

Lance's whole demeanor changed in a matter of seconds. His eyes narrowed at Keith, not in anger, but confusion. There was a crack in the mask he'd so carefully crafted, one that might've not been visible if Keith didn't know Lance the way he did.

The way his face would light up at the sight of Hunks cookies. Or the way silent tears would slide down his cheeks after a particularly terrifying battle.

The way all of them would huddle up in the lounge area deep into the night without any complains, knowing full well that none of them could handle being left alone after the day’s events.

Lance's confusion was slowly starting to turn into suspicion, "What do you mean where I come from? This is where I'm from. From Cuba. And the Garrison."

"The Garrison? Is that where you're from?" Keith tried his best not to force anything, not when he couldn't have Lance getting too overwhelmed, that'd only hurt him. Hurt them both, if the system crashed.

"Ye… Yeah," he stopped there. As if all the fight in him had left with the sudden realization. "No. I… I don't. I was just a replacement. I only got it ‘cause the guy who was supposed to have the position had suddenly dropped out." He stuttered out, biting his lip to keep it from shaking.

Keith's eyes widened, his breath coming to an abrupt halt, "Wha— what?" His voice cracked with shock.

Keith felt the ground slip from under his feet, literally. A strange sense of weightlessness took over his body. Lance looked at him with half of a smile on his face, a slight tremble on his lips. It was the last bit of control he was trying to hold on to. And Keith realized just how painful it must be for him, to have his whole outlook altered at once.

To be told that everything he had ever loved and lived through was a lie.

And maybe that's why his thoughts and feelings were getting harder to differentiate. Like the colors in the evening sky— merging into one another until nothing but darkness was left behind.

Lance crossed his arms tightly over his chest, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes downcast, clearly in pain, "I'm replaceable, Keith. First at the Garrison. And now in Voltron too. Pidge's the genius. Hunk, the engineer. Shiro's the leader and you're the fighter. Allura and Coran handle all the diplomatic stuff. And I'm just… me,” Sobs ripped out of his chest, so fierce he couldn’t stifle them anymore. With voice broken to the point of unrecognition he continued, “Causing more problems than it's worth…"

Keith wished he could raise his hand and wipe the tears sliding down his cheeks. But he couldn’t, it might break the system that was already starting to crumble. But He couldn't stay quiet anymore, not when Lance didn't seem to see what he meant to them. "Lance, no. That's not true! None of it. You're not worthless. In fact, I think, you're the most important person in the team. You are—"

He willed himself to continue. Lance had always been there for him. Like the northern star whenever Keith felt like he was losing himself. And this time he had to be the light. Lance needed to hear this, he needed to understand, "You're the most important person to me, Lance. You're the one holding the team together. You're the one who makes me want to keep fighting…"

"No, stop it! That’s not true! You’re better off without me…" His breathing was coming out in short pants, chest heaving with each of them as if he were drowning. His whole body was starting to shake from uncontrollable sobs.

Keith’s heart broke as he stood there. He felt it as the familiar sting of tears started to build behind his eyes. How could he have been so blind to what Lance was feeling, all this time, thinking that he wasn’t good enough. He was everything good in the world that Keith had ever known. "You’re so much more than worth it, Lance. We need you. I need you."

Then, without any warning, their surrounding started to change, the weightlessness coming back in full force. Keith closed his eyes, taking a step back in hopes to gain some resemblance of balance, and braced himself for whatever was to happen next.

Everything started to alter. All the objects were merging with each other. The trees and the sky. The house and the garage. The flowers weren't even there anymore.

Or maybe they were starting to separate, collapsing into themselves. The air itself started glitching like the old TV sets where the pixels would suddenly start mixing up. Everything was returning to their primary forms as red, blue and green— instead of yellow, a stark reminder that none of it was real.

Suddenly there was a loud ringing of static at the back of his mind. Then just as fast, it was gone. Along with everything else. There was nothing left. No more chaos. No more confusion.

Keith opened his eyes to see— the ocean. Going on and on for further than human eyes were meant to see.

People were sitting under giant umbrellas all over the beach. The sand looked like molten gold under the fiery heat of the sun, but Keith couldn't feel it on his skin, as though watching it all from behind a wall of glass.

A little kid—maybe 7 or 8—ran past him to cling into one of the girls sitting on a towel near the water. "Mamà, mira lo que encontré," The boy exclaimed with a smile so big that Keith could see the gap for the two front teeth he was missing. It was Lance, he couldn't explain how he was so certain, but he was.

The woman replied with something, but the surrounding shifted again before Keith could catch it.

It was the waiting room of a hospital. Keith typically hated hospitals, it reminded him of the foster homes that were always filled with people— kids and adults alike. But the glass wall separating him from it kept the artificial smell of disinfectants away, making it a little more bearable.

People were coming and going out of the room every now and then. But at least five or six were sitting around on the worn-out blue chairs at all times. A boy in his early teenage years caught Keith's eyes in particular. He was standing by the door, nervously chewing on his lips.

Suddenly the door opened and a nurse came out. Everyone jumped up from their places and gathered around her as she informed them with a kind smile that both the mother and the baby were healthy.

Keith had to look away when the family started laughing and hugging each other, some even tearing up from joy. He truly and entirely felt like an intruder for the first time that day.

He had never known any of the things these people were experiencing. Nor would he ever do, in the front line of a centuries old war with no end in sight. He didn’t deserve to be a part of it.

The next time Keith looked up, it was at a 15 year old Lance opening a neatly folded piece a paper—a letter?—and skimming through it as his eyes gradually widened. Soon he was running inside the house, yelling something in Spanish that Keith couldn't comprehend.

He frowned in confusion and looked down at the forgotten envelop flying by his feet, instantly recognizing the Garrison's logo on it. It was the acceptance letter for the school, Keith knew it, he'd gotten one once too.

Even if his reaction wasn't quite as— enthusiastic. He and Shiro did have pizza for breakfast though, and the look on Adams face at that was definitely worth it.

After the next shift, Keith was surprised to see the familiar auditorium of the Garrison; and even more so, at seeing himself from an outsider's point of view. He looked… tense, as if ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. It made Keith glance down at himself and wonder if he was still the same.

An eager and overly cheery Lance was trying to approach him, making past-Keith look even more unapproachable. He must've felt like a deer caught in the headlight, Keith guessed. Then past-Keith said something to Lance and walked out of the crowded hall, leaving him standing there, fuming.

And suddenly Keith understood why at the beginning Lance had taken him as someone who thought of himself to be above everyone else. He was just awful at social interactions, it seemed.

The time between the shifts was gradually decreasing. And soon Keith couldn't see anything but little glimpses of events and faces. Happiness, sadness, fear and loneliness.

Making new friends and losing beloved family. Achieving dreams and missing home. Everything that has happened in-between the beginning of a life and the destruction of stars.

And if there was any way of explaining such an otherworldly emotion that flooded through the deepest parts of Keith's heart at the sight, then he didn't know of it. How could he? When in all of eternity there couldn't have been another at the same place as him.

Thousands of miles from earth itself. In the middle of the vast nothingness of the universe with no sense of space or time. And after experiencing a whole lifetime of events in minutes.

Man couldn't have possibly named an emotion that they've never encountered. But the universe didn't follow the rules of what man's emotions were confined to.

So, if Keith were to compare the sensation taking over his entire being to something comprehensible to the human mind, then it'd be the birth of a star. Atoms coming together with such force that it could light up the eternal darkness of space. A fire so fierce that it could only be dimmed after it had burned to the full extent of its life force. Even at the time of destruction, it's with a supernova so strong that the waves could be felt even from the farthest reaches of the galaxy.

~~~

The first thing he felt was cold. Borderline freezing. A bright light caught behind Lance’s eyelids, making him scowl before he even opened them. His mind felt like it hadn’t connected with his thoughts yet, drifting all over the place.

But before he could understand what was happening, he was falling.

On the floor. Right on his face.

It was so sudden that it almost felt like when he’d accidentally miss a step on the stairs and land on the next one— a full body jolt that for a moment, he could swear, he got a glimpse of heaven itself.

Just as he was preparing to kiss the floor, a pair of firm hands caught him mid-fall, pulling him into a tight hug. He didn't move, couldn't have even if he wanted to, as the warmth of the body seeped through his flesh and bones. It tamed down the coldness running through his veins.

But soon—too soon—he was getting pulled away from the comfort he’d found himself in. Before he could contemplate going back into the embrace, the owner of his sanctuary started to talk, making him realize that it was none other than Keith.

“Lance…”

It was just one word.

Just his name.

But he had said it with such tenderness that Lance felt his breath hitch. The weight of the emotions in his voice, in that single word, was too much for Lance’s clouded mind to decipher.

He'd spoken his name as if it were something delicate— not fragile, no, but something precious. Like he was worried if he’d said it any louder, the word itself might chase to exist. Dissolve into nothingness like the flame of a candle, the embodiment of carnage yet worshiped for its radiance.

 Lance slowly looked up at him, all his features visible from up-close. The skin under his eyes were much darker than usual, as if he hadn’t slept in days. The messiness of his hair was bearing the evidence of anxiety-ridden hands being run through them repeatedly. And his lips…

Lance forced himself to look back up at his eyes, it was no time for thinking of how much he wanted those lips on his. So what, if despite everything, Keith was just as beautiful as ever? He couldn’t just tell him he was pretty. So, he very elegantly said,

“You’re really pretty…”

And curse his entire existence for being like this. No time for that, his ass. He’s going to blame his half-awake mind for that slip up for the rest of his life.

And maybe Lance was still dreaming or something but he felt like he saw his ears turning red for a slight second before it got covered by that stupid mullet…

Keith’s eyebrows came together, either in confusion or in disapproval— he really hoped it’s the former, as the hands holding his arms tighten just the slightest. It made him notice that Keith hadn’t let him go yet. And the fact that his hands too were still resting on Keith’s shoulders.

“How are you feeling? Anything weird?” Keith asked, deciding to ignore his delirious confession. And Lance couldn’t be more grateful.

He tried to check if he was feeling alright but felt a strange detachment from his body. He let go of Keith’s shoulders in favor of holding his arms, unsure if it was to have something to ground himself on or if he was just not ready to let go yet.

 “I… don’t know. Feels like I’ve had a little too much of that Nunvill.” He could feel the beginning of what was definitely going to be a killer headache, "Like, maybe I'm forgetting something—" Before he could even finish the sentence his head started to throb harshly, making him buckle at the knees and lean heavily on Keith.

"Lance, hey, what is it!? Are you— are you okay? Hey…" one of Keith's hands shot up to his arm while the other held him steady by the waist. But since Keith wasn't really much stronger than him, it was getting harder for him to keep them both standing.

Suddenly the door behind them opened and Coran followed by Allura, Hunk, Pidge and Shiro walked in. They must've been informed when Lance's pod opened.

Coran was the first to reach them and urged Lance to sit on the bed beside the pod. He obliged without any protest— glad that they'd decided to come in when they did, cause Keith was starting to look paler by the second and Lance really didn't know what was going on.

Coran attached a wired device to his hand, instantly making the holographic screen light up with lots of Altean words and charts, some kind of space heart-rate monitor, probably.

"Are you in any pain, my boy?" Coran asked him, still looking at the screen.

"Not really… though my head feels like someone has just opened it and went through whatever’s in there."

"It's because that is preciously what happened. Except the opening your head part. That was replaced with using electromagnetic waves to trigger the release of neurotransmitters across the synapses, and accessing your memories by following them. It really reminds me of this one time when a friend of mine accidentally left a jar of Hushkenmucks out in the sun—"

Lance stared at Coran for the total of five seconds before turning to Pidge who was standing to his right, "Can someone translate that to English, please?"

Pidge rolled their eyes with a huff, but the small smile on their lips showed their true feelings. They took one of Lance's hands, starting to detach the wires way slower than they were put on. And by the look on their face Lance got the feeling that they just wanted something grounding for what they were about to say. Grounding for whom though? Lance wasn't sure.

"Do you remember what happened? The battle near the Medusa-looking star system?" Pidge asked in a gentle tone.

Lance’s eyebrows furrowed in thought, “We were fighting the Galras and then I saw one of them targeting Green… Oh!” He looked up at Pidge as worry took over his face, “Are you okay? You’re not hurt, are you? Off—”

His questions were cut short by Pidge launching themselves at him. They wrapped their hands around his waist and hid their face on his chest, “I’m fine, dummy. You’re an idiot, you know that? Why’d you get in front of that laser beam?”

“Hey, I wasn’t just gonna sit back and watch when I clearly could’ve done something. What kind of friend do you take me for?” Lance answered into their hair as he wrapped his arms around their shoulder, “And I know any of you would’ve done the same for me.”

Pidge sniffled softly into his shirt, “Well try telling us beforehand next time you decide to do something so drastic.” They pulled away, rubbing at their eyes.

Lance’s eyes stung with unshed tears as he pulled them into another tight hug and playfully ruffled their hair, “Aww, were you worried about me? Fine, next time I’m kidnapped I’d send you a selfie along with my GPS address every five minutes so you wouldn’t have to stress over it so much. That good enough for you?”

Pidge scrambled out of his grasp, laughing at his antics, “Oh shut up! If there’s ever a next time, I’m throwing you out of the airlock before the Galras can even reach you.”

Before Pidge could move away, Hunk wrapped them both up in a hug, “You have to spend so much time with us to make up for that!” And man, does Lance love his hugs! Even if they could be a bit crushing.

“Alright buddy, you can definitely count me in for all the extra movie nights!” Lance grinned at him, patting his back lightly.

“It’s good to have you back, Lance.” Allura smiled softly from where she was standing at the back, after Hunk and Pidge had finally let him go, “Do you remember what happened? If not, that’s okay too, it’s normal for your mind to take some time to clear up after all that’s happened. You should take some rest.”

“Thanks princess. But yeah, I think I do remember…,” he said, trying to recalled the events from that day.

They'd just finished breakfast when a distress call came from a nearby star system. But because of a neutron star at a close proximity to the area, their devices started getting jammed whenever they tried to collect information on the planet or what kind of danger they might be in.

Shiro had called them all for a brief discussion while they were waiting to get there and told them to not get separated from the team, otherwise they might fail to form Voltron if needed.

And then… there was a fight before they could even land on the planet. They'd been surrounded by more than a dozen Galran ships by the time they realized that it was a trap and that the planet wasn't even a habitable one.

Despite that, the battle was going well, they were crowding the Galras to a side and gaining the upper hand. That's when everything went wrong. Lance noticed a ship targeting Green from one of its blind-spots, and instead of wasting time by yelling into the comms he flew between them just as the shot was fired.

 It was so sudden that Lance didn't even get the time to realize what had happened— his lion got shaken by the impact, throwing him out of his seat. He'd tried to call for the others but all the internal functions of the lion had already shut down by then.

The Galras had failed to move the lion, leaving him to be the only one taken.

The next thing he remembered was him back home in Cuba— wait what…? He was back home? That shouldn't be possible! But before he could start panicking, his vision started getting blurry and he could feel himself drifting away.

The last thing he saw before the darkness took over his senses was Keith looking at him with that frown on his face that was just so— Keith.

The next time he woke up it wasn’t as sudden as before. All the events of the last few days started coming back to him one by one. And he had to take a deep breath to clear his mind.

In through the nose—hold—out through the mouth. Just like Veronica had taught him long ago. When he was getting anxious about going to Garrison, having to be away from home for the first time.

He tried going further into his memories to remember what had happened.

There wasn't really a way to escape from the Galran ship when he'd been restrained and later unconscious after getting captured. And that must've been what they were aiming for. To take at least one of them and use him to get to the others.

There was a rustling noise from somewhere to his right, making Lance peek through one of his eyes to see what it was.

It was Keith— sitting in a chair beside the bed. He hadn't noticed that Lance was awake yet, eyes fixed on the glass window overlooking the hundreds of stars surrounding them. Lance tried to sit up but groaned as a sharp pain shoot up his spine and straight to his head.

"Lance! You're awake," Keith turned to him with wide eyes.

"Great observation, mullet," he rolled his eyes, glancing back at Keith when he didn't counter his taunts with one of his silver-tongued comebacks instantly.

He was staring intensely at Lance, opening and closing his mouth a few times before finally deciding to speak, "Are you feeling okay? Do you need help sitting up?" He asked, hesitantly chewing on the inside of his cheeks.

Lance tried again to sit up. Cause really? He was nothing if not stubborn. This time he took it slow and sighed in relief when he finally sat up, leaning against a pillow, "Nah, I just moved too fast."

"Hm," Keith was sitting with his back straight and shoulders set as a statue. He looked tense, and Lance was pretty sure he knew why that was.

Lance had been stuck inside his own head. In the memories that he cherished so much, even when he was so far from home. Especially when he was so far from home. They were everything that made him to be who he was.

His mom was there. And his dad. Rachel, Veronica, Marco and Luis. His niece and nephew. The places he grew up in and the air filling his lungs. The beach where he saw his first ever meteor shower from, making him instantly fall in love with space.

But this time, Keith was there.

Keith was in his mind. walking through his memories and looking into his life.

"Do you… do you remember what happened?" Keith asked, looking at him with an expression so earnest that it was beyond Lance's understanding.

Or perhaps, it hit a little too close to home…

"Yeah…," He replied softly in the quietness between them. And when Keith talked again, Lance was taken aback by the raw emotions in his voice,

"I'm sorry. It was the only way to…" He let out a defeated sigh, "I'm so sorry. Galran genetic signature was like— the key to access that memory emulator or whatever Hunk said it was. So when it came to entering it… I was the safest option. I never meant to go through your memories like that."

He looked guilty, and that wasn't a look he'd seen often on Keith's face. The face that was always either set on a scowl or frowning. Maybe playful and laughing, or grumpy and pouting.

Sometimes adorning a rare little smile that was only for Lance to see. And they were getting more and more common with time; making him so damn giddy that he was the reason for those.

So the burden of sadness heavy on his shoulders made Lance forget about the stinging ache of his body, and yearn to tell Keith that everything was alright. Just so he could have Keith being his comfortable and competitive self again.

But was everything really okay?

They sat in silence for a moment. Giving Lance the time to gather his thoughts and sort through his feelings.

Yeah, it wasn't the easiest to have someone snooping through his entire life. But neither was it to let go of a life that he'd once called his own. And that was exactly what they’d all been forced to do.

And if there was one thing that he'd learned from all the different cultures they'd seen out there—from people believing in no higher power than themselves, to the ones that would worship every shift in the wind—is that nothing is constant. Certainty as people know it is nothing but a made-up ideology to help them craft a better outlook on life.

The universe in itself is ever-changing. And sometimes people are given the illusion of a choice that they could hold on to something, just for it to be ripped away right from their grasp. Leaving it impossible to go back to what it was before.

But in that very moment, with Keith sitting just a lift of his arm away, it wasn't gone yet. It was right there, waiting for Lance to make the choice. Either forget about all that’s happened and go back to the life they'd all been dragged into. Or keep it— keep Keith right there, by his side.

The answer was obvious, really.

Because out of all the infinite moments occurring simultaneously throughout the universe. And out of every other possibility that was abandoned for better or for worse,

They were there. Together.

There were probably not many things that Keith could do for Lance to not love him still. And if his memories weren't still playing tricks on him then the feeling might not be as unrequited as he'd thought…

"How long were you in there?"

Keith looked up at him at that, a slight furrow appearing between his eyebrows, "A day, I think. But the evening felt way too long to be normal so… not sure."

Lance moved a little, sitting cross-legged and making himself as comfortable as possible in the narrow bed of the medical bay. He offered Keith a small smile. It by no means, was an excited one, or even a joyful one. But it was lighthearted, filled with reassurance.

The soft exhale Keith let out told Lance that he'd been able to express it, even if only partially. "I like them," He added, after Keith's shoulders had started to unwind.

Keith tilted his head to the side, and he couldn't help finding it endearing, "Like what…?"

"Summer evenings. They're always so pretty. Back home in Cuba, when things weren't so messy, and if you looked up at the sky, you’d see colors and stars blend in like magic. It was nice… I used to wish they’d never end."

Lance looked at his lap, thoughts getting lost in a time when living was followed by dreams and hopes, a thousand wishes upon shooting stars.

Keith turned to glance outside the window again, but this time his gaze softer. The silence between them stretched on like the nothingness that fills the universe. Where everything resides, from the mighty stars that shine despite all else to the lowest forms of life.

"Your family," He finally said, "They’re… really nice."

Lance glanced at him with glistening eyes that reveled only the surface of a bottomless ocean of emotions. Yet his smile so bright, that it washed away any doubt Keith might’ve felt for bringing up the subject, "They are. I think they'd actually really like you when they finally get to meet you. For real this time."

Keith's eyes went so wide that he might've very well seen a ghost, making Lance blink a few times and wonder what he’d said that could've caused such a reaction. He didn't have to think for too long, as Keith whispered into the dragging silence between them; so softly that Lance might’ve not heard him if they weren't sitting so close,

"When…"

Lance gulped down the nerves trying to crawl up his throat and spoke the next words without taking his eyes off Keith, almost as if he couldn't look anywhere but him by some form of magnetic force, "Yeah. Like, after this war is over, and we're back on Earth. I'm sure they're all gonna adore you."

After staring at Lance for a painfully long few seconds—where he could see the hesitation slowly fade from Keith's eyes—he finally smiled back, "Think your mom's gonna recognize me from the Garrison days? Cause knowing you, there's no way you didn't talk about your so-called rival at home," Keith smirked at the way Lance's eyes widened and his cheeks went from pink to crimson.

"Oh no… Vero's never going to let that go," Lance muttered to himself.

"So you did talk about me? Wow Lance, careful now, someone might think you have a crush on me or something." Keith, that prick, all but grinned at him.

"Oh shut up or I'm calling quits on this," he snarled, faking an exaggerated pout.

"On what…?" When he looked back at Keith, he found him looking at him with eyes so full of hope that Lance felt his heart-beat fasten.

"Umm, us…?" Wow Lance, great job making things awkward. But that was it. Since it'd already been said, he wasn't going to leave it like that, "Would you like us to be… us? Cause I really do like you."

The smile that lightened up Keith's face was worth whatever was coming their way. It was the kind of smile that man went on war for; and the Gods themselves feared, "Yeah. Yes, I do want that. And I can't wait to finally taste those garlic knot's your mom makes that you talk so highly of."

Lance finally, finally pulled Keith into his arms, hugging him as tightly as his still-recovering body would allow. He felt Keith melt into the embrace— letting his body lean into Lance, and smiling at the crock of his neck. This time Lance wasn't going to let go, and neither was Keith.