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Lance has been quiet for days now, longer than anyone would had expect him to be. It worries them. He doesn't cry, he doesn't talk about it. He's just, somber. No one blames him however. After the failed mission, after the deaths. It wasn’t suppose to go like that, the planet wasn’t even suppose to be inhabited by anyone. Civilians, families, childr-
After dragging a breath out of his beaten body, forcing his thoughts into silence, Keith says “next level.” A drone falls into the room and Keith lets out a scream as he propels himself forward. He’s tired and everything hurts, he can’t even breath, but he forces himself forward, one more level, just, one more.
It’s two levels later than he’s in the floor, pinned by a drone and barely able to force himself to breath, much less talk, that he breaths ‘end simulation.’
“You suck.”
Keith is barely able to register the voice coming from near the door under the dizziness and exhaustion, all he can think right then is that he wants to throw up. “I’d like you to see you try.”
It’s quiet save for the steps and then Lance is sitting next to him. Keith looks up at him, sees the anger in him. “Look at you, you can’t even sit up.” He says. “You always over do it.”
“At least I’m doing something productive instead of just sitting in my room sulking!” Keith says, more angry than he intends to. "Making me- everyone worry!"
“It doesn’t matter! To train so hard, to exhaust yourself.” There’s a pause before he repeats it, softer, full of regret, full of anger. “It doesn’t fucking matter. It won’t bring anyone back.”
It’s enough to make Keith sit up from where he was lying. Keith looks at him and it hurts, it hurts to see him like this, but he doesn’t know how to help, how to make it better. (Can it become better?)
“It doesn’t. You’re right. They." He has to swallow before he can say it. "They are dead.”
From the corner of his eye he sees Lance pull his legs closer, hug them and rest his chin in it. It’s quiet again and Keith hates it not because he wants to talk, but he wants to say something, anything to help Lance, and everyone, fucking hell, everyone is so down and he can’t do anything about it. He’s so powerless, so useless.
“This is war, Lance.” Is all he can really say.
Lance is quick to stand up, quick and furious. He turns to look at Keith like he had just insulted his mother, which he had long learned was off-limits. He can see the million words per minute run through his head, he can see the million insults and comebacks, he can see the fire, the anger, the violence in his eyes, and Keith regrets saying anything at all. But in the end, all he says is.
“I know. I know, okay. Fuck. I fucking know.” All the fire is gone as soon as it came; only defeat is left inside those eyes. Defeat. Lance feels defeated. Lance. “They were families, children. Keith. God they were children. How. How are we supposed to do this. How. I-we...we can’t.”
Keith stands up then, facing Lance despite the other looking down. “We have to.”
“But-”
“We have to, Lance.” He insists. “You said it once. You can’t run away because you’re afraid of doing what’s right.”
“What’s right?” Lance screams then. “How is this what’s right?!”
“Look,” there’s a pause, god he’s so exhausted, mentally, physically, he can’t think straight. “It’s not pretty. It’s not nice. It’s a war and sometimes, sometimes that means death of civilians. You think that anyone here is happy? You think anyone here likes it?”
Lance flinches and it’s only then that he realizes he’s been yelling so he takes a breath, tries to calm himself down. It doesn’t work.
“Of course they aren’t. I know. Dios Mio Keith I know.”
Belatedly, he realizes that Lance is crying now. Finally, hes crying. And there's some sort of relief in the pain of seeing him cry. The relief dies with the panic of not knowing what to do, he could never figure it out, even after all this years.
“I’m, sorry.” It’s all Keith can say at length. Quietly, unsure.
Lance tries to stop, he tries to calm himself but it’s obvious to even Keith to see that it’s hard and he can’t stop the tears, he never can once they are out. And eventually Lance is muttering an apology in between sobs, something about bothering him and then he’s walking away.
“Don’t, go.” Keith manages, lunging to grab his arm to stop him. They lock eyes for a moment then Keith pulls at him until he’s in his arms and he’s hugging him. Gently, unsure, then tightly. “Don’t go,” he whispers, softly and into his ear. “You can cry.”
The sobs come harder this time and now he’s shaking a little, mumbling broken sentences, sometimes in spanish, sometimes in both languages. Keith can only hold on to him and let him cry it out.