Chapter Text
Words for Lance were something of incredible power. Every word had its meaning and every sentence had its own life. Words could do anything, they could stop people from getting hurt, they could create worlds with one powerful stroke, and they could mend even the most shattered of hearts. To him, that was beautiful. Words were precious and people often did not understand the true weight of their words, they held so much power that once they were spoken could never be taken back. A single word could kill someone in the right situation. A word could save someone in another situation. There was so much possibility when it came to words, that's why Lance couldn't think why anyone would want to study anything else, who would want to study numbers and formulas when they could wield the power of worlds with an asset that they all were given as they grew.
Perhaps it was because he had such a great, unyielding desire to be remembered, he didn't want fame or fortune, he only wanted to be remembered, and he couldn't think of a better way to be remembered than through words. So naturally, he had decided to study creative writing at the local college he attended, and the rest of his time was spent either working at the small local bakery or writing his stories. He often wrote while his friends worked on their own assignments because he loved to know their opinions on his ideas (until they got unnecessarily snarky or sarcastic, which to be fair, was mostly Pidge's fault, seeing they could never take his work seriously).
One day as they worked, Pidge had leaned over his shoulder to read the screen and had snorted before sitting down to open their textbook. The rest of the hour had been Lance asking them what had been so wrong with what he was writing and they never gave him a straightforward answer, instead, they smiled smugly to themselves and continued to do engineering homework.
Moments like those made writing with his friends rather difficult, but Hunk had great insights and was a surprisingly good editor when Lance really needed it (e.g when he had a deadline for one of his assignments that he wrote in the span of one all-nighter and was on the verge of a mental breakdown). Outside of class was really the only place he saw his friends, seeing they were all in different classes for their various majors, so meeting for coffee and to study at the bakery where Lance had ended up working was something they often made a priority whenever they could. Somedays Lance felt like he practically lived in the small, understaffed bakery, and he practically did (he had already slept there multiple times over the course of the year he had worked there) and they had still never put up signs for more staff. The owner--A woman named Allura--wasn't all too keen on hiring anyone she didn't test extensively before trusting. Lance had somehow made it through those tests and had probably only gotten through because Hunk had worked there for a month before Lance applied and would have been lost without Hunk's help.
They had both offered to try to get Pidge a job there as well but they had refused, saying they didn't especially want anything to do with the chemistry of cooking.
In result, Pidge would work on their assignments and drink the coffee that Hunk or Lance poured them. They must have found it rather amusing to watch them supply the bakery and serve coffee because one of the small tables by the window became their regular study spot. Lance could almost feel their amusement when he flirted with the pretty girls who would come in looking for something sweet, they would laugh even harder when he tried to flirt with some of the men as well.
"Hey," Lance had once said defensively. "I'm most definitely the Bi-est Bi person you'll ever be Bi."
"Your Bisexual puns are not appreciated," Pidge informed him.
"Yeah well your scorn is not appreciated!"
"You signed up for it with our friendship buddy, so get over yourself."
With an exasperated groan, Lance had gone back to his work.
The Bakery itself became one of Lance's favorite places to be. It was small, cozy, and friendly. Everyone who came in was kind and looking for something to make their day slightly better. The walls were painted a light shade of pink that was accented with a light buttercream yellow. There were big windows that lit up the place even more, and the tables were light colored wood with white chairs. The display case of bakery goods was always lit up with their products that had small designs on them and were always created to look beautiful and happy. That's why he loved the place so much, there was so much positivity that was poured into the small bakery, and the way the employees (though they were few) were always kind, even on a stressful day there was a reason to smile.
'It's kind of unsettling how happy and bright this place is compared to the rest of the world," Pidge pointed out with suspicion when they had first started working in the place.
"I think that makes it beautiful." Lance countered.
"It is pretty happy," Hunk said, looking around. "It's supposed to be a source of joy in the lives of others, something of light in their days."
"No dark emo-ness allowed here I guess," Pidge rolled their eyes.
Lance breathed the scent of the bakery. "Exactly."
~
Keith considered himself to be many things, and both positive and cutesy were definitely not two of the things that Keith saw himself as, so the bakery that Shiro had asked him to meet at definitely was not his ideal place to be. Yet, he endured because he knew that Allura, Shiro's girlfriend owned the place, and it honestly seemed to fit her outgoing, positive attitude fairly well, and he'd hate to ruin her good vibes with his negativity.
The problem was, he was fairly negative. He hadn't grown up well until High School when Shiro had gotten a place and convinced him to stay with him until Keith was old enough to move out and get his own place. That's why he was meeting Shiro there because they were like brothers, they had both grown up without families and because of that, they had shared a close bond ever since they had met.
Keith had gone on to move out after being accepted into a rather high-class art school. Now he spent most days in an art studio. He was still unsure which way he wanted to go with his art. He had considered almost all of the paths he could take with every degree, but so far he hadn't been able to decide which route to take. He knew a few professors who thought he should go into drawing and painting, and then others who thought illustration would suit him better, yet he still wasn't sure, all he knew was that he loved the sensation of watching art unfold beneath him into something more than it had started out as when it was blank.
As he waited for Shiro to meet him at the small bakery, Keith placed his sketchbook on the table and continued to work on something he had started earlier. He tended to work with charcoal, finding the simple black and white of the pictures aesthetically pleasing and the fit him rather well. There was no point in using color when he looked around and saw everything in a muted tune. He didn't find the colors of the world moving, instead, he found them rather dull and inconvenient, so instead, color became something that he often left out unless he was instructed to do otherwise.
Why would he create works of color when his inspiration was as colorless the pages he stared at or the gray sky on a cloudy autumn day.
He put his pencil on the paper again, letting the charcoal slide, yes, this was the color of his inspiration, not bright and happy like the bakery around him, and certainly not on fire like the autumn leaves. Instead, his inspiration was entirely colorless and bleak, and he would keep it that way until he found a reason to change it for good.
~
Lance was ever so enveloped in his work and his writing as the year went on. In his classes, they looked at great works that had been celebrated for their meaning and the way the author had created such symbolistic pictures with a painting made of words. Some authors had clear inspirations, their muses had been a loved one, the world around them, or a stranger on the street, rushing to catch a bus. Others, the muses were so disguised most would never know what had driven them to write in that way, no one could even guess what had triggered such a complex picture in their head that led them to ask so many questions.
Lance himself, had found no great muse, no greater meaning to his words, and nothing to write for besides his ambition to be remembered for his words. If the stars would only bless him with a reason to write, someone or something that would trigger something new and inspirational within him. He needed a muse, and not even the bakery with its constant flow of people and interesting topics that went by him as he worked would satisfy him. Nothing held his attention long enough to be worth writing about. He needed more than something to write about, he needed something to write for.
If he could buy inspiration then all the money in the world wouldn't be enough to satisfy him. The world around him was beautiful in color and still it wasn't something to write about. The harder he searched, the more he found himself drawing a blank. Lance liked the prospect of beauty, he liked beauty on other people, on himself, and in the world around him. Beauty could be simple or extravagant, and something like beauty never seemed to run out. Yet whenever he saw things of beauty, of color and outgoing light, he couldn't help but feel like it still wasn't enough to inspire him again. So Lance poured himself into the work at the bakery instead, temporarily trying to forget about his dwindling inspiration and growing writer's block. If he worked harder on the pastries and making the people who came in happy, then perhaps eventually something would strike inspiration into him and send him straight back to his metaphors and his symbolism.
Out of habit, Lance continued to write on previous projects and his assigned projects, but they still lacked something. The work felt flat and he wasn't in awe of the words that came out of him and covered the page. He supposed he could be rather dramatic when it came to how beautiful he thought writing was, but also it was passion that drove him and if he couldn't find fire within his words, how else was he supposed to continue to feel passion towards what he created. Without the intensity of his love being poured into the writing, it was nothing.
"Is there something wrong with you?" Pidge asked after the day of classes finished and they met up to start walking towards the bakery. The bakery was probably about a mile from the campus and they tried to walk most days for a good work out, also the apartments that Lance lived in were close to the bakery anyway so it was a bit of a waste to drive when everything was so close together.
"I haven't been able to find any inspiration to write lately," Lance started. "I'm not really depressed I don't think like I still love working and doing everything else, but every time I try to write it just seems so... dull, like there's nothing behind it, no real reason for it to even exist. Usually, I would think that there's a reason for everything to be written, like everything you write has to have some reason to exist, but recently, they haven't had a reason to exist."
Pidge was quiet for a moment as they walked. Hunk was probably already at the bakery, seeing his classes on Tuesday ended an hour earlier than Pidge and Lance's. "So like, you have intense writer's block or something?"
"I don't really know, I think I've somehow lost the passion that's been driving me to write so frequently, and I didn't know I had it until I lost it because I don't even know what it possibly could have been."
"So you weren't writing for anyone before?"
"No one but myself really."
"Are you still writing for yourself? Or have you given up on that too?" They gave him a pointed look. "If you get too absorbed with your desire to be remembered, you won't be, you'll be forgotten. The greatest people never strived for their greatness, I think you're too focused on the end result rather than what's in front of you."
Lance frowned. "I've always strived for greatness Pidge, why would anything be different?"
"Maybe you finally think that you might be able to actually do it, and that's all your writing is now."
"Then shouldn't I feel more inspired?"
They shrugged. "Not necessarily."
Lance shook his head. "This is confusing, you're saying I shouldn't want to be remembered?"
"I just think you should try focusing on what's right in front of you for awhile, and write for the hell of it, not because of anyone else who might end up reading it. Give yourself a break, let yourself breathe, and just write, see how it goes."
"Okay, I guess I could try that..."
Pidge smiled. They're big glasses sliding down their small nose a bit. They're hair was poofing out slightly awkwardly that day, they obviously hadn't gotten enough sleep and had probably gone to bed with wet hair after a rushed shower based on the way their hair stood. It was an effort not to try and fix their hair, but Lance kept the urge to himself. Pidge almost never asked for his help with anything, and he respected their independence immensely, even if it sometimes worried him when they would show up looking like they hadn't slept in days or gotten enough to eat with how focused they had been on their latest project.
As long as Hunk and Lance kept an eye on them, then it was fine that Pidge had a bad habit of not taking care of themselves when they were too focused on their work. That's what friends were for, he supposed, they were all there for each other for anything that they were going through and sometimes Lance felt like his friends were the only ones who kept him sane.
As soon as they got to the bakery, Lance dropped his stuff off in the staff room and clocked in. Allura was there that day, and her boyfriend Shiro had decided to swing by after work and was talking with her outside the staff room. When Lance slipped by he smiled and went back to affectionately teasing Allura.
Lance went out to restock the bakery case as Pidge came up and ordered coffee from Hunk who made small talk for a moment while he got her drink. It wasn't too much longer until Shiro made his way out of the back and went to sit down at a table with a guy that Lance didn't recognize. He didn't think twice about it until he saw Pidge get up from her spot and run over to where they were sitting, her voice excited and rather loud in the small bakery.
Lance frowned over at Hunk who merely shrugged. Hunk and Lance had known each other since High School and had only met Pidge in classes during the first two years at their university. It was probably one of Pidge's old friends from High School, who also happened to know Shiro.
With a shrug, Lance went back to work, there couldn't be anything too special about the guy. He had his black hair pulled up in a ponytail, and Lance could see that he had at least one ear pierced. So Pidge knew some weird punk-looking guy from high school, not exactly the biggest surprise all day. Honestly, what could be special about that guy?
Except, curiosity was tugging at Lance and the shop wasn't exactly buzzing with business at the moment. Lance looked over at Hunk again, wanting to go see what was going on. Hunk seemed curious too, but he didn't budge. Lance found Allura in the back pulling something out of the oven.
"Hey, Lance," She said sweetly. Lance smiled, moving to help her with the trays.
"Who's the guy Shiro's meeting with?" Lance asked after a moment.
"Oh, that's Keith, why?"
"No reason, Pidge knows him somehow, I was just wondering."
Allura nodded. "I don't know a ton about him, just that Shiro and he grew up together and they're kind of like brothers. Keith is an art student at a local art school, but he's fairly private about his art and his life. He seems like a nice guy, though, you should talk to him if you get a break." She went back to moving the pastries to a cooling rack and Lance nodded, taking it as permission to skip out a bit on his shift.
Lance found Hunk and pulled him aside. "Allura said we can go see what's going on if you're curious." Hunk frowned.
"You know, it's not our conversation, I'm good back here, have fun though."
"HuNK no! You're supposed to come with me as backup! What if this guy is hot and I freeze up or something, come on!"
Hunk snorted. "When have you ever needed backup while flirting?"
"This isn't about flirting, this is about finding out why Pidge is talking to him, I'm curious!"
Hunk sighed. "Their just friends from high school, I'm sure of it."
"Let's find out!"
"Fine."
Lance walked over to the table with a smile and tapped Pidge's shoulder. Shiro smiled at Lance and Hunk and Pidge rolled their eyes. The guy, Keith, straightened in his chair a bit, his eyes narrowing unfriendly at Lance. He was certainly hot, but Lance froze, he didn't like the way Keith was looking at him, it seemed rather rude if he were being honest.
"Hey, who's this?" Lance asked, trying to sound cheerful. Pidge turned in their chair and flicked Lance's nose mercilessly.
"This is Keith, I know him from high school, why aren't you doing your job?"
"Break," Lance said with a smile. "Isn't that right, Hunk?"
"I'm going back to my job," Hunk said flatly, turning to go back to behind the counter. Lance turned back to Pidge, muttering something about feeling betrayed.
"Any-y-way, what's up with you all," Lance said, directing the conversation back around.
"Just catching up, I haven't seen Keith in like a year," Pidge said, they turned back. "This is Lance, by the way, he's really annoying but has a big heart, also he's a creative writing major, which is pretty cool if you're into that sort of thing."
"Wow, my friends are betraying me hard tonight," Lance pouted. "First Hunk, now you," Pidge didn't bat an eye.
"Your ego needs a good bruising now and then," They responded without missing a beat.
"Rude," Lance said, sticking out his tongue. "Why are you like this to me?"
Keith looked like he had stopped listening and was staring out the window disinterestedly. He had a sketchbook on the table in front of him and Lance could see the remains of charcoal smeared on the outside of his right hand from where it had touched the paper. Keith was actually really, really hot. His hair was pulled up loosely, and both of his ears were pierced. His face was a really nice shape, his cheekbones sharp and his eyes a dark blue. Hell, the guy was pretty much gorgeous if Lance felt like admitting it.
"Because you deserve it most of the time," Pidge responded. "Now run along pastry boy, we're talking." Lance rolled his eyes and turned away, throwing Keith one last glance before walking back to his post behind the counter.
The other boy never looked back at him.