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It wasn't weird to wake up in the middle of the night. Not for Lance, at least. He's always waking up, whether it's to pee or from a nightmare. In this case, he woke up because he wanted to pee. Now, he would've just gone straight to the bathroom, but he looked and saw that the space beside him is empty. Now, that wasn't like him, and he got worried. He went to the bathroom (because he still needed to pee) and put on his robe, yawning as he left the room and into the living room.
He considered turning on the lights to see better, but decided against it, since it would really hurt his eyes. So he resorts to calling out, "Mi amor? Are you okay?" He yawns, trying to adjust his eyes as he looks for his dumb husband.
No answer came back. That alone was enough to wake Lance up a little more.
Keith wasn't the type to ignore him—not unless something was wrong, or he was so deep in his own head he hadn't even heard him. Lance rubbed at his eyes, blinking against the dark as shapes in the living room slowly sharpened into something recognizable. Couch. Table. The faint outline of the window.
Still no Keith.
"...Keith?" he tried again, softer this time, voice edged with something tighter than before.
A faint sound answered him—not a voice, but a small, uneven shift. Fabric against fabric. From the direction of the balcony. Lance exhaled, long and quiet, tension easing just enough to move his feet forward. He padded across the room, the floor cool under his bare feet, and nudged the balcony door open.
Cold air slipped in immediately, brushing against his skin.
Keith was sitting on the floor, back against the railing, knees pulled up slightly. His head was tilted back, eyes half-lidded toward the sky like he'd been staring at it for a while. He didn't look startled by Lance's presence, just... distant.
Lance sighed. One of those nights, it seems. He turns to go back to the bathroom, and he grabs a Keith's robe. He opens the balcony door, and he slowly drapes it over Keith. He felt Keith tense, but eventually relax as he looks up at him.
"Dude," Lance muttered, pulling his robe tighter around himself as he sits down beside Keith. Even if the floor is cold. "You trying to catch a cold or what?"
Keith's softened, a small smile growing as he adjusted his robe. "No... I'm sorry, I didn't want to wake you.."
"Yeah, well, mission failed." Lance crouched down in front of him, squinting a bit. "You've been gone long enough for me to notice. That says something."
Keith huffed quietly, almost a laugh, but not quite. "You were awake because you needed to pee. I know you." Well... he called his bluff. Lance rolled his eyes, waving him off. "Details... why are you up, anyways?"
Keith's smile faded, and he looked up at the moon. Lance didn't push, because he knew. Almost everyone would say it's because... he's being considerate, which is somewhat true, but that's not the main reason. It's because a part of him already knows what keeps Keith up. For him, his nights are sometimes peaceful, but with his death replaying in his mind, the nights where he wakes up are more common.
"¿Cariño?" Lance whispers, his hand going to hold Keith's. It wasn't to push him. Never would Lance force him to say it, not unless he wanted to. Keith squeezed Lance's hand, sighing shakily. He was really out of it tonight.
"I'm... okay." Keith croaks. Lance didn't like the pause. He squeezed Keith's hand back. "Are you?" Lance asks softly, his thumb gently rubbing Keith's skin. Keith sighs, eyes closing momentarily. He leans his head on Lance's shoulder.
"...I don't know."
Lance didn't push him. Because he knew what it felt like. Even Lance has his moments where he can barely register what he's feeling, and he's very in touch with his emotions. So he can't really expect Keith to be able to register how he feels, considering how emotionally constipated he is.
"Mn... been there." Lance mumbles, his head resting on Keith's, his thumb rubbing slow and rhythmic circles. "Was it worse tonight?"
Keith makes a noise, which Lance has heard enough times to know it means 'yes'. He doesn't ask, so instead, he wrapped his arm around his waist, pulling him closer and kissing his forehead.
"I've got you, cariño." Lance whispers, his hand gently rubbing Keith's side. He feels Keith melt into him, and he smiles. Keith is always so strong, Lance thinks. He never allows himself the chance to just... be. He's always with the blades, working. And when he's back, he's strategizing through video chat. He's always doing, filling his mind with work.
"Lance...?" Keith mumbled, a troubled look on his face.
"Yes?" Lance answers quietly.
"...You... you know that... There are certain things... I haven't told you yet... right?" Keith asks slowly. Lance nods, humming in response. He knew. There were things he hadn't told Keith. But it wasn't really a matter of trust, but a matter of relevance. At least, for Lance it is. He didn't tell Keith everything that happened to him because... not everything needs to be said. Not because he didn't want him to not know, but simply... how would one go about telling another about something that happened years ago? What's the point of bringing it up?
Keith bites his lip, looking more troubled by the second. Lance frowned, looking down at him. "Yeah?" He says slowly, but softly. Keith moves his head from Lance's shoulder and looks up, looking more troubled.
"Do you remember... when you told me about your death?" Keith asks slowly. Lance tensed, his jaw locking as Keith's hand automatically slid up Lance's arm, his thumb slowly rubbing through his robe. Lance took a slow breath through his nose. The instinctive tension surprised neither of them.
Death wasn't a topic either of them handled lightly. Not after everything. "...Yeah," Lance said quietly.
Keith's gaze dropped immediately, like he regretted bringing it up. Lance knew that look. The maybe I shouldn't have said anything look. The abort mission before I have to be vulnerable look. He didn't let Keith run, not if he held his gaze. He squeezed Keith's hand.
Keith looked at Lance, wanting to abort and run away, but he didn't. He held Lance's hand, squeezed once-twice, before he took a shaky breath and exhaled. "Okay."
The wind stirred around them, carrying the distant sounds of a sleeping city. Somewhere below, a car passed. And a dog barked once. Thankfully, Kosmo was a deep sleeper, otherwise it would be one horribly loud night.
Keith swallowed. "When you told me..." He began, his fingers tightened around Lance's hand. "You told me everything. You told me what happened. What it felt like. What you thought before it happened. What you were afraid of."
Keith stared at their joined hands as his voice got quieter. "You trusted me with that."
Lance's chest tightened. Because he already knew where this was going. Keith continued before he could interrupt. "And I realized..." His jaw clenched. "That I didn't do the same... and I never told you what happened."
Keith stared right at Lance, nervous and afraid and yet determined. Determined to say this. "About Naxzela."
Lance froze. Naxzela?
The name hit him like ice water. He remembered it. Oh, he remembered it clearly. To be fair, he remembered every battle, lost and won, good and bad... not one of them was forgotten. And Naxzela? Definitely one of his top ten worst battles. And it's not under 5, either.
"What happened on Naxzela?" Lance asks softly. Keith trembled, not in a way Lance has seen before. He carefully wrapped his arms around Keith, cupping his cheek as he pressed their foreheads against each other.
"cariño..." Lance whispers softly. Keith makes a choked sound, and Lance's chest hurt. What the hell happened on Naxzela? Lance remembers chaos. He remembers how he and the paladins fought and the rebels were in danger, how the planet was literally gonna explode... There was so many things happening at the same time, Lance remembers being overwhelmed.
"I... I tried to..." Keith's words catch in his throat, and Lance pulls him close. Keith's trembling got worse, and as curious as Lance was, he wasn't so curious that he was gonna push Keith to tell him when he can barely get a word out.
"Shh, shh. Cálmate, mi amor... estoy aquí." Lance whispers in Spanish, like he knows how Keith likes. One of the highlights of their relationship was finding out that Keith was attracted to Lance speaking in Spanish, and he had abused that since the damn beginning. It was always so worth it seeing Keith so flustered. But with moments like now? He likes how he can feel Keith physically melt when he whispers sweet nothings to him. Unironically, Keith learned Spanish quickly like that.
"Respiraciones profundas..." Lance whispers again, rubbing his back as he pulls Keith on his lap. Keith makes a whimper-like sound, but Lance pretends he doesn't hear it since Keith will just deny ever making it. He combs a hand through his hair, holding him firm enough to let Keith know he wasn't letting him go.
Keith buried his face against Lance's neck and he feels something wet on his neck. Keith is crying. The thought makes Lance squeeze him tighter, kissing his head. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Lance just held him. One hand carded slowly through his hair while the other rubbed circles between his shoulder blades. He could feel Keith trying to get himself under control, trying to wrestle his breathing back into something steady.
Eventually, the shaking eased. It was not completely gone, just... more manageable. "There you go," Lance murmured. "That's it."
Keith nodded weakly against him. The silence stretched again. This time, Keith broke it. "I was ready to die."
Lance froze, eyes wide as his blood ran cold. He somewhat expected something like this, but it still didn't stop the initial shock. Being in war, you can die at any point. Back then, just floating around in space was enough to get them in some form of trouble.
"...What?" Lance slowly asks.
Keith didn't repeat. Lance heard him perfectly. But the shock still hit him deep. "On... On Naxzela... it was gonna blow up. We needed to break down the shield..." Lance listens quietly, rubbing his back.
"...Lotor came and... and his cannon broke through..." Lance furrows his brows, his hand slowing but not stopping. "Well, before that... I... I had an idea. O-Our weapons weren't enough... but maybe... a cruiser ship would be." Keith hesitantly says.
Lance does not like where this is going. He feels a sense of dread grow, and his hand stops. He looks at Keith, eyes widening as he slowly hopes it's not what he thinks it's gonna be. "Keith? Did... did you try to... to sacrifice yourself?" Just saying it made Lance's chest feel heavy.
"At the time, it was a good idea—"
"—Good?!" Lance doesn't mean to freak out, but how can he not?! Not when Keith tells him this, that he had nearly given his life, and yes, he sees the hypocrisy! "Babe, we're talking about ramming yourself into a barrier that wouldn't have probably flinched at it and you... Oh god, you could've died had... had Lotor not shown up."
Keith flinched, but he gripped Lance's robes. "I know, I know that... But... Lance... I'm a horrible person. Because all I cared about in the moment was the mission. I needed you all alive, and I wanted you all to win that fight. So I-I went for it... I didn't hesitate. But... But when Lotor came, and I... I actually processed what I nearly did, I..."
Keith trembled again as he let out a pained noise. His hands gripped Lance's robes so tightly, he thought he was trying to grab his skin as well.
"I realized how I didn't want to die! How scared I was, and how I nearly just fucking killed myself!" Keith almost wails, the words spilling out as fast as his tears did.
Lance didn't speak right away. For once, he didn't have anything sharp or clever queued up. Nothing to deflect the weight of what had just been said. His hands stayed on Keith like an anchor, one at his back, one still tangled in his sleeve, but his grip tightened almost imperceptibly, like his body had decided it needed confirmation that Keith was actually here.
Alive and breathing but shaking in his lap instead of drifting somewhere in memory that could've ended differently. Keith's face was still buried against him, words spilling out in broken fragments like something that had been locked too long.
"I didn't think—I didn't—" Keith swallowed hard, voice cracking. "It just made sense at the time. I was thinking about everyone else, and it felt... clean. Simple. I could do it and it would work and nobody else would—"
His breath hitched. "And then it almost happened." That part came out quieter. Smaller. Lance finally exhaled, slow and controlled, like he was forcing his lungs to remember how to function around the words.
"Hey," he said, but it wasn't his usual tone. No bite. No humor. Just steady pressure. "Look at me."
Keith didn't move. Lance shifted instead, fingers sliding up to tilt Keith's face just enough that he could see him. Keith's eyes were glassy, unfocused, like he was still half stuck in Naxzela instead of sitting on a balcony in Varadero's night air.
"There you are," Lance murmured, softer now. "Stay with me, yeah?"
Keith gave the smallest nod. Lance's thumb brushed under his eye, catching the tear that hadn't fallen yet. He pressed a soft kiss to Keith's forehead, his hand cupping his cheek as he kept Keith in his arms. "Oh, baby, what you felt... it's normal." Lance whispers, achingly soft.
Lance leaned forward slightly, forehead pressing to his again. "And listen to me very carefully, cariño," he said, quieter but sharper in intent. "You are not a horrible person because you realized you didn't want to die, yeah? Okay, it was war, and it was terrifying. None of us wanted to die. We were willing, yes, because we fought for a cause. But we were all scared. We were still kids, Keith... we weren't supposed to be in that war. But we were."
Keith let out a shaky breath that sounded like it had been stuck behind his ribs for years.
"I keep thinking about it," he admitted, voice barely holding together. "Not just that moment. All of it. Naxzela. Every decision. Every second where I thought I was doing the right thing and—" his throat tightened, "—and it still could've gotten everyone killed. I... I barely think of it, but at night, it... it just... it comes back."
Lance didn't interrupt. He just kept holding him, steady as a fixed point. Keith swallowed hard again, trying and failing to regain control. "It's not even just that I almost died," he continued, words stumbling over each other now. "It's that I meant it. I made the choice. I actually chose it."
His hands clenched in Lance's robe like it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart completely.
"And then I didn't want it," Keith whispered, voice breaking. "And that's the part that makes me sick, Lance. That I only panicked when it was too late. That I only—" His breath hitched hard. He shook his head once, like he could physically reject the memory.
Lance shifted, pulling him closer again before he could spiral further. Not tighter like restraint—just enough pressure to interrupt the fall. "Stop," Lance said quietly. Not harsh, just final.
Keith went still, blinking hard as if the command had short-circuited his thoughts. Lance exhaled through his nose, steadying himself before speaking again. "Keith... you are not selfish. Oh baby, you are the least selfish person I know." Lance whispers, pressing soft kisses to his cheeks, his hands sliding up and down his hips, slowly and firmly.
"You are incredible. And you made a traumatizing decision. You nearly sacrificed yourself, obviously you were gonna be scared, and it doesn't make you less human or less selfless because you didn't want to die..."
That honesty landed harder than reassurance would have.
Lance shifted his grip slightly, thumb tracing slow circles again at Keith's back, grounding him in the present instead of the memory. "But listen to me," he continued. "There's a difference between a bad decision in a collapsing battlefield and being a bad person. You're mixing those up because your brain is trying to make it... neat. Like there has to be a villain in the story. And there was. It wasn't you. It was that dumb shield."
Keith makes a small noise, a broken thing, as he lets out an airy laugh. It was small, broken and barely audible. But Lance heard it. He smiled softly, caressing Keith's cheek. Keith's throat bobbed. His hands were still gripping Lance's robe, but the force in them had shifted—less panic, more exhaustion.
"I didn't think I deserved to panic," Keith said finally, barely audible. That landed harder than anything else. Lance went still for a beat, then let out a quiet breath through his nose. "That's the real problem, huh." Keith didn't respond, but he didn't need to.
Lance shifted his hand to the back of Keith's neck, holding him there gently but firmly. "Listen to me," he said, slower now. "You don't get to decide you weren't allowed to be scared. Not then. Not now. Not ever."
Keith's eyes squeezed shut. Lance pressed his forehead lightly against Keith's again. "You were there. You lived through it. You get the fear too. That's part of the package."
Keith's breath trembled. For a while, neither of them spoke. The city below kept moving like nothing up here mattered. Finally, Keith whispered, "I keep thinking... if I had done it, it would've been over."
Lance's hand tightened slightly at his back. "Yeah," he said. No hesitation. "It would've been over."
Keith flinched at the bluntness. Lance rubbed his hip in slow circles. "But it wasn't... Because you lived. After I died... and I was brought back by Allura? Hah, I... I was so numb for a while. I had experienced death and I felt... nothing. But when it hit? God, the breakdown I had..."
He looked at Keith, smiling softly. It was not a happy smile. It was a pained smile, one that didn't hold deep pain but rather understanding of what being in pain felt like. "It would've been over had Allura not done what she had. And... It hit me... It wasn't. She saved me. I had a second chance."
Keith's grip loosened just a little. "It's not the same, Lance..." Lance knows its not. One died, and the other nearly died. There is a difference. But was it that big when the pain and the fear is there? When they both had broken down from this?
"Nah, probably not..." Lance's voice trails off, quieter now, like he's choosing each word instead of throwing them. "But the brain doesn't care about perfect comparisons when it's drowning, cariño. It just cares that it hurt."
Keith doesn't answer. He just stays there, breathing unevenly, like he's waiting for the next hit of something he already knows is coming.
Lance shifts slightly, adjusting his grip at Keith's waist so he can hold him more comfortably against his chest. "Listen," he continues, steadier now, "I'm not gonna sit here and pretend it's identical. It's not. But I am saying I know that moment where you realize you crossed a line you didn't know was there, and you don't recognize yourself on the other side of it."
Keith's fingers twitch against his robe, but he doesn't pull away.
Lance exhales through his nose, gaze drifting out toward the dark skyline for a second like he's checking something only he can see. "When I came back," he says, "I thought I was fine. Like, 'cool, I'm alive, moving on.' And then it hit me later. Not the death part. The part where I didn't get to decide what it did to me."
Keith gently caressed Lance's cheek, and Lance leaned into the touch, smiling softly. "You..." Keith starts, and he sighs shakily. "My sharpshooter..." Keith whispers in that soft and adoring tone that always has Lance melting. His eyes close again, but this time he doesn't look like he's falling away. More like he's trying to stay present through sheer effort.
"I still see it," Keith admits. "That split second where I almost—"
"Yeah," Lance cuts in, not harsh, just firm. "You will. Probably for a long time."
Keith tenses slightly at that.
"But," Lance continues, softer again, "it won't always hit like a blade. Eventually it's just... a memory that shows up without taking over the room."
Keith lets out a shaky breath that sounds halfway between relief and disbelief. "You talk like you're sure."
Lance huffs a quiet, humorless laugh. "I'm not sure. I'm just further along in the same stupid path."
That gets something out of Keith—a small, broken exhale that almost resembles a laugh again, but weaker than before.
They sit there for a while, the wind picking up slightly off the balcony rail. Keith's shaking has mostly faded now, leaving behind exhaustion in his posture, like his body finally realizes it doesn't have to hold itself together at full force.
Lance adjusts his arm again. "Hey," he says after a bit.
Keith hums faintly in response.
"You wanna stay out here, or you wanna go inside and watch that telenovela Veronica keeps talking about?"
Keith doesn't answer immediately. His head tilts slightly against Lance's shoulder. "...Inside," he mutters eventually. "I need something to take my mind off of this..."
"Good answer," Lance says, already shifting to stand with him carefully. "Because I'm cold, and I'm blaming you for it."
Keith gives a weak, almost fond scoff, but lets himself be guided without resistance. As they move back toward the open door, Keith pauses just slightly.
"Lance?"
"Yeah?"
A beat. "Thank you..."
Lance softens. He gently kissed Keith, holding him as if he was the most precious thing in the entire universe. And let's face it, for Lance? He was. Keith melts into the kiss, his hands sliding up to rest on Lance's chest, humming softly. Their kiss breaks, and Lance smiles adoringly.
"I'll always be here for you... Your right-hand man." Lance smiles, making Keith soften and smile as well. A wobbly smile, but a big smile.
"My right-hand man that always has my back." He whispers, those words a mantra to Lance, a perfect and nostalgic ritual at this point. Lance chuckles, and he wraps his arms around Keith's waist. "Yup... all yours."
"...El hombre del que me enamoré..." Keith whispers, and Lance gasps. He stares at him, and he smiles widely, feeling like tears are gonna fall. "Oh Keith... you've been practicing."
Keith immediately looked away. The tips of his ears turned red so fast Lance almost laughed himself off the balcony.
"Oh, no, no, no." Lance pointed dramatically at him. "Get back here. You do not get to casually drop that on me and then look away."
Keith groaned.
Lance held his hands, pulling him closer as his eyes shined. "You said it perfectly!"
Keith scoffs, crossing his arms as he looks away. "I probably didn't..."
"You absolutely did."
Keith covered part of his face with one hand. "Lance—"
"No, because do you understand how long I've been trying to get you to practice Spanish?" Lance demanded, already walking backward into the apartment while holding both of Keith's hands. "Years. Literal years. You're so stubborn!"
Keith sighs, and he rushes past him towards the living room. "Just drop it, Lance!" Keith made it exactly three steps before Lance launched after him.
"You called me el hombre del que me enamoré."
Keith kept walking.
"You called me the man I fell in love with."
Nothing.
"You said a romantic sentence in Spanish."
Keith sped up.
"Oh my God, he's fleeing the scene."
"..."
"He's fleeing the scene of emotional vulnerability."
"Lance."
"The suspect is armed and dangerous."
Keith groaned loudly.
Lance beamed.
The fact that Keith was embarrassed enough to walk away meant Lance had successfully shifted him out of whatever dark hole his brain had dragged him into earlier. Not completely. Lance knew better than that. Trauma didn't disappear because of one conversation.
But Keith was here. Present and blushing. Which was infinitely better than dissociating on a freezing balcony at three in the morning. By the time Lance caught up to him, Keith was already making a beeline toward the kitchen.
"Where are you going?"
"Tea. You want some?"
"I want Cafe con Leche."
"You and your Cafe con Leche." Keith says exasperatedly, turning on the kettle and opening the cabinet to grab the tea box. Lance grins cheekily, wrapping his arms around Keith's waist. "You love me."
"Unfortunately." Keith says with a tired sigh. He feels the way Lance holds him firmly and Keith softens. He looks down, his hands putting the tea bag in a mug as the water boils.
"Lance?"
"Mn?"
"..." Keith looks down at the counter, before he sighs. He gently lifted his hand to rest it on top of Lance's hands. "Jamás sobreviviría sin ti..."
Lance's eyes widened. He looks at Keith, heart racing as the tip of Keith's ears turned red. He couldn't teased him about it. Could've made a joke. But... he didn't. He just smiled, and leaned closer, pressing his lips to the back of Keith's neck.
"Nunca podrás vivir sin mí..." He whispers, sliding a hand up Keith's chest as he nuzzles into his neck.
This was enough...