Work Text:
Keith couldn't quite register what was happening.
Or rather, he didn't want to.
Why was this happening? Things had been going so well. The team had been hitting Galra bases left and right after being reunited. They'd taken back and saved so many systems that Keith had lost count long ago. But Zarkon was right on top of them this time. It had been a trap. A well planned one. The ones who'd voiced concern about going in were Shiro, Hunk, and surprisingly Lance. Keith had been the one to point out that even if it was a trap they couldn't just skip this place. It was an important base for the Galra Empire, and it's people had been suffering under their rule for who knows how long.
The fate of the Universe is more important than our safety, he'd said.
The memory brought a sickening churn to his stomach now.
They'd gone in, as planned. It had been a trap, as expected. Zarkon had created a monster that used sound to mess with the frequencies of their lions. It kept them from forming Voltron and using their bayard's powers until they'd finally found its weakness. Lance, being the closest, had made a mad dash for it. He'd gotten to it in the same moment Zarkon had gotten to him. Instead of falling back, Lance had pushed forward. He'd managed to destroy the device just as Zarkon had pierced the hull of his lion. But Lance had managed to pull away just afterwards. They'd regrouped and fallen back, and somehow managed a retreat to the ship and escape. None of them had thought much of it until they were back on the ship.
Lance wasn't getting out of his Lion.
Keith's heart stopped cold in his chest.
He was the first to start running, the others calling after him in concern. It hadn't clicked for them yet. They hadn't been in clear view when Zarkon's weapon had hit Lance's lion. Kieth had. He'd seen the angle it had been at. When he thought about it now, it may have been just the wrong angle to go through the cockpit.
When he saw that the blue lion's hatch was already open and Lance still wasn't coming out, he felt like he was going to be sick. He barrelled up the ramp, wanting to get there as fast as possible even as the sickening fear had built up inside of him. He needed to see. He needed to know Lance was alright. Need to hear his laugh and see his smile. He reached the cockpit, and his blood froze solid in his veins, halting him in his tracks.
Red.
Pooling onto the floor.
Seeping between Lance's fingers.
Spreading.
Spreading.
He made the mistake of trying to see where it was coming from, hoping- praying - that it wasn't as bad as it looked. He was quickly proven wrong when he saw the gash ripping through his chest. He cried out, feeling as if a mirror wound was spreading in his own chest, ripping him apart. Lance's gaze fell on him. Keith could already see the oceans in his eyes getting murkier, and yet the corners of his mouth still managed to slice upwards into a smirk when he spoke.
"It's...about time you...got here..."
That spurred Keith into motion again.
"Shut up...Just...don't talk..." Keith said, scrambling downwards until his was standing next to Lance's pilot seat. He tried to pick Lance up as gently as he could, but the other still shouted in pain. His muscles spasmed for a few unbearable moments before he was still again. Keith didn't dare try and move him after that, but his arms still stayed where they were around Lance. He held him close, red smearing across his armor and invading his senses.
"Hey...I did p-pretty good out there, right?"
"I said shut up."
"C'mon...r'you gonna d...deny a guy his final glory?"
"SHUT UP!" Keith shouted, voice cracking. "This isn't...you're not..."
"Dying?"
"We'll get you to the healing pods. You'll be fine. You'll...y-you'll..."
"...Amor."
It was said so quietly. So weakly. It was so wrong. This wasn't Lance. Lance was loud, and vibrant, and warm, and not dying. He couldn't be. He remembered when Lance had first called him that. When it had changed from something teasing to something fond, and gentle, and loving. It was only when Keith felt a thin set of fingers and a rough palm wiping away something on his face that he realized he was crying. He wanted to feel something other than this. This sorrow. This pain. Like every beat of his heart was bruising his chest. He wanted to say so many things to the man in his arms but nothing could get past the sobs retching their way out of his throat. As they wracked through him, he hunched over until his forehead was pressed against Lance's. He was vaguely aware that the others had arrived some time ago, and had been standing frozen looking in at them from outside the cockpit. Keith had the fleeting impression that he was just an actor in a film. That none of this could actually be happening. He'd seen movies with moments like this. Where final goodbyes and wishes would be exchanged. Where the script was written so beautifully it didn't seem like death was something to be feared. Where there was always some sort of closure.
None of that was present in reality.
Keith couldn't speak. His throat was raw, and his body was shivering. He couldn't control himself. Couldn't quell the sobs, no matter how much he wanted to so he could comfort Lance. Lance. Lance's breathing was getting more ragged by the second. He could feel Lance's blood seeping into his uniform wherever they were touching. Heard a sick, constant, dripping whenever he paused to breathe.
There was nothing beautiful about this.
"H..hey..." Lance called to him. His voice was barely a whisper now. "You k-know...that I love you, r-right?"
Keith still couldn't speak. His sobs worsened as he nodded his head.
"Y-you'll...you'll r-remember that, right?"
It was the break in Lance's voice - the tears Keith could see pooling in his eyes and begin to stream down his face - that truly broke him. Far above his own pain and fear and heartache he wished he could take Lance's away. He wished he could get rid of it all, even if it meant taking it onto himself. He wished they could switch places. Anything. Anything to have Lance's suffering end. Anything but him in his arms with his life trickling away.
"I'll remember," Keith finally choked out. "Of course I will. Always. Always. Always."
For each always, he leaned forwards to press a kiss to Lance's face. His forehead. His cheek. His lips. He lingered there last. It was slow, and soft, and not nearly enough. Keith could feel Lance's hand slipping off his face as the last dregs of energy faded from him. He reached up and covered his hand with his own. Keeping it there. He pulled back slightly, so he could see into the other's eyes.
"I love you. I love you so much."
The only indication that Lance had heard him was the ghost of a smile at the corners of his lips. And then he sighed, as soft as an ocean breeze.
His chest did not rise after it fell.
Then and only then did the words he'd wanted to say come crashing out of him.
No.
Don't go.
Don't leave me.
No!
I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
My fault.
Come back.
Please.
Wake up.
Please.
I need you.
Please.
No.
No.
No.
He was vaguely aware of the others finally moving. Of them having to force him to let go. Of strong arms holding him back as he pleaded with anyone who could hear him to just leave him there. Not to take him away. He knew as soon as Lance was out of his sight he'd have to accept what had just happened. That he was gone. He didn't want that. Couldn't handle that. As they moved him away his eyes desperately clung to anything of Lance that they could. The hand he'd just been holding. The lips he'd just kissed. Soon those were obscured. He instinctively sought out the color blue. It was all he had left. He desperately searched for the blue of Lance's eyes or his suit, or his shirt or jeans.
He couldn't see it.
Couldn't see anything but red.
He was going to be sick.
Red. Red. Red. Everywhere. He couldn't escape from it. It was still all over him. He wanted to rip it off. Attempted to do so before those strong hands stopped him once again. Blue had always been a constant in his life. Had thought it'd always be there. In the sky. In the ocean. Lance. Lance 's eyes. His suit, his shirt, his jeans. He needed something. Anything. Anything at all. But there was no sky or ocean here and now even his last oasis had been taken from him.
He'd always taken the color blue for granted.
And now he was paying the price.