Chapter Text
“I’m telling you guys! This has to be the stupidest thing Professor Thace has ever come up with — and I mean ever.”
Lance McClain — the student at the mercy of Professor Thace’s ‘stupidity’ — complained, dropping his tray onto the convertible fold-away table with a dramatic thump. He slumped in his seat, immediately dropping his forehead onto the cold, dirty tabletop, letting out yet another groan in annoyance.
“Isn’t this the third time you’ve complained about this project? Today?” Pidge Holt — Lance’s ever-so-kind friend that had saved him a spot at the lunch table — grumbled. She nudged their third and final member of their beloved friend group — Hunk Garrett — who sat next to her, giving him an expectant look, as she knew he had been keeping count.
“It’s the fourth time, actually.”
“What can I say?” Lance whined, referencing the song ‘You’re Welcome’ from Moana. “The criteria for this project is absolutely ridiculous; and what do you mean it’s worth — like — ten percent of my grade? Ten percent!” He exclaimed, shooting up dramatically from his slouched position.
Pidge picked up her fork, boringly toying with the food on her plate — it was meatballs and rice that day, an ‘IKEA-inspired’ staple at their college. She stabbed a meatball, swinging her fork around slightly before pointing the ball in Lance’s direction.
“You know, I would help with your project except — ”
“No! Family comes first.” Lance interrupted, immediately ruling out the idea of Pidge helping.
See, Professor Thace — who Lance would label as his ‘annoying and too serious photographer teacher’, — had assigned a ‘portrait assignment’ for their final project for their final semester of their junior year in college. That assignment consisted of documenting pictures of a specified muse over the series of several weeks. The photos would then be submitted and graded based off composition improvement over the weeks, and Thace had particularly emphasized on including capturing different facets of said muse’s personality over the series of shots as a ‘bonus mark’ — not that he was ever keen on giving bonuses, but Lance desperately needed to bump up his grade from a B+, to an A.
To make matters worse, Thace had added a ridiculous criteria that Lance had repeatedly called ‘stupid’: that the muse had to be someone outside of the fine arts department, and that he would be ‘doing checks of everyone’s muse during submission’ — if he even had the power to do so, Lance wondered.
Upon the end of that introductory lecture, Lance’s thoughts had immediately drifted to Pidge — who was an engineering major in the year below, which fit the criteria perfectly. However, upon bringing it up at lunch that same day, Pidge shared some unfortunate news that she had received word that her dad and brother, Sam and Matt Holt, had gotten into an accident back at home, and since Pidge had taken the liberty of travelling to another country to attend this ‘prestigious’ college, she insisted on dropping out of the year’s final semester to go back home, visiting her dad and brother, while also spending time with her mom since she would be home alone.
Lance was, of course, more worried about his friend’s family over his own project, and while Pidge immediately offered they just take all the photos the week before she leaves and forge the timeline, Lance insisted she not worry about it and that he would find someone else, leaving him stranded without a partner for the completion.
Hunk had diligently offered to replace Pidge instead, but his major didn’t fit Thace’s ridiculous criteria. See, originally Hunk had applied into the engineering department during his and Lance’s senior year in high school, and worried over his grades, as a backup, had applied to the supposed ‘easiest’ program to get into — arts. Engineering was competitive to say the least, and Hunk wasn’t all too surprised when he received the rejection letter. Yet, he still accepted his arts acceptance when the time came, hoping that getting into the school first and transferring departments later would be a plausible option. Safe to say, three years later, Hunk had fallen in love with ceramics whilst in the arts program, and no longer had any intentions of switching majors when he was just another year away from his bachelor’s degree and ultimate freedom. That did mean, however, that Hunk wasn’t qualified to assist in Lance’s project.
The other option was Allura Altea — Lance’s long term crush and half-friend. She was kind — just as kind as Hunk — and Lance was reassured several times by both Pidge and Hunk that if he had just asked, she would’ve gladly helped and that probably would have been a good chance at ‘bonding’. The only issue was that in the midst of attempting to build up a casual conversation that lead to the million-dollar-question, Lance accidentally discovered Allura was a psychology major — also under the arts department. While it wasn’t exactly under the bachelor of fine arts, it was under the bachelor of arts, and Lance didn’t want to risk embarrassing himself by asking Allura and then finding out Thace wouldn’t accept her anyways.
And with all that happening in the span of a week following the assigned time. that left Lance with no muse, wasted time where he could’ve been shooting, and a degrading self esteem as he realized how little friends he had in college to begin with.
“I know you’re worried about my dad and brother, Lance,” Pidge sighed, eyeing the older with pity in her eyes, “but you really need to start this project or you won’t have enough photos for submission.”
“I know, I know.” Lance grumbled reluctantly, beginning to consider Pidge’s original proposition of just mass-taking all the pictures and forging a timeline for them. “It’s just too — what’s the word — impossible! To find a muse not in the art department.”
“Lance, it cannot be that hard to find someone outside of the arts department that would be willing to sacrifice a couple hours a week to take pictures.” Hunk remarked helpfully, polishing off his plate of meatballs before taking some more of the ‘delicious delicacy’ off Pidge’s plate.
“Why don’t you just go invade someone else’s building and ask around? Pidge can sneak us into the engineering building.”
“Wait! Hunk, my man, that is genius.” Lance exclaimed proudly, putting his palm up to high-five Hunk, which he immediately took.
“It’s public property, you imbeciles.” Pidge rolled her eyes, not understanding the reasoning behind ‘sneaking them in’. “I don’t know if you can convince any engineering majors of all people. It is finals season after all.”
“You’re right.” Lance sighed in defeat, realizing people would most definitely be too busy around this time of the year to spare a couple hours a week for measly photos. “It is our junior year.”
“To be fair, you don’t have to ask someone in your year.” Hunk pointed out, pointing towards his side where Pidge sat as a reference for people in younger years.
“Yeah but like — Pidge is the exception, you know? If I ask someone younger doesn’t that make me a — ”, he paused, glancing around before leaning down onto the table and whispering the final words, “ — pedophile?”
Pidge held back a mental face palm at the stupidity entering her ear. Sure, she knew it was a joke, and she also knew Lance was referring to his type of same-age or older women, but hearing him exaggerate to those lengths made her snicker a little bit.
“We’re all adults here, Lance. Plus, isn’t Allura in her senior year? By your logic, if your feelings for her are mutual, then she’s a pedophile.”
“That’s different!” Lance immediately protested, making a shocked, dramatic expression as if Pidge’s words had personally offended him, rather than Allura herself — who wasn’t even present.
“Besides,” Hunk smiled at the banter, fully amused by the two, “if you promise you have no ill intentions — which I’m sure you don’t anyway — then what’s the harm in asking someone a year or two younger? It opens more doors to possible muses!”
“I guess.” Lance muttered, putting a hand on his heart while raising the other as if he were swearing an oath. “I, Lance McClain, promise not to fall in love with whoever agrees to be my project partner.”
“A little dramatic, don’t you think?” Pidge wheezed, choking on her own saliva in the midst of her laughing fit.
“It’s necessary for my reputation!”
“What reputation?”
“Oh, whatever! Let’s just go!”
—
Keith Kogane wandered out of the lecture hall, yawning as he slipped on his wired-earphones. He wasn’t listening to anything — not really — but he had learned over the years that when people thought you were, they’d stop bothering you, and he preferred it that way. It was Monday, arguably the worst day possible for someone to be at school, and Keith wanted nothing more than to skip the rest of his lectures.
He took a detour, down a more secluded hallway in the building before reaching one of the lesser-known stairs at the back of the building. Said stairs lead directly outside, a much less crowded area considered students took the stairs in the middle of the building that remained indoors; more convenient to those actually showing up to their next lecture — which Keith had already opted to skipping.
Upon opening the back doors, the slight, spring breeze hit his face, and he could smell the faint residual petrichor that lingered in the spring air from the morning April showers. It was refreshing and peaceful to say the least — all until that peace was diligently interrupted by a loud commotion nearby.
“So, what do you think?” A brown-haired boy exclaimed enthusiastically, eyes sparkling with anticipation as he plead to the girl standing in front of him. She was blonde, a slightly amused, slightly uninterested face plastered on her subtle smirk as she eyed the boy up and down.
A confession. Great.
And just when things couldn’t get anymore annoying, another man appeared behind the girl, slinging an arm around her as he pulled her back from the brown-haired boy slightly.
“She’s not interested dude; you’re not her type.”
Oof. Rejection.
“That wasn’t at all what I was asking — and who the hell are you?” The guy defended, scoffing slightly as he rolled his eyes and pointed an accusatory finger at the other. The girl seemed to be enjoying the attention.
“My name’s Rolo, and Nyma here,” he gestured towards the girl still slung under his arm, “isn’t interested in you or your dates — unless you got money, but it sure don’t seem like you do.”
A dramatic gasp escaped the brown-haired boy’s mouth, as he put a hand against his chest in a wounded manner.
“Excuse me, but I wasn’t even asking for a date — and even if I was, Nyma here should be honoured to go on a date with me.”
“Whatever, bro.”
A second longer and Keith was convinced a fight was about to start. Not wanting to be bothered by the excess noise so early on in the day, Keith turned his heel and was about to leave, only to be met by the eyes of a familiar someone who noticed his staring at the dramatic exchange.
“Well, well, well… Look who it is.” A smirk was plastered on Pidge’s face, as she walked slowly toward Keith.
Keith grimaced at the sight of her. The two had met the year prior in a mutual class. It was a general class all engineering majors had to take in their sophomore year, regardless of specifics, but Pidge, having took AP classes, had enough credits to take it in her freshman year instead. She was ridiculously smart, Keith would give her that, but it was that unfortunate semester where they sat together the entire year that let Keith make acquaintance with her.
“What are you doing here?” Keith deadpanned, already getting a bad gut feeling about Pidge and her possible correlation with the argument happening in the background. Out of politeness, though, he still reached up to grab one of his earphones out, giving her his undivided attention.
“My friend — the brown-haired one — has a photography project and is having trouble finding someone to photograph.” She shrugged, causing Keith to raise a brow at the mention of ‘photography project’.
“You? Involved with a photography project?”
“Hey, I never said I was involved, I just brought him here.”
“On a Monday morning.”
Pidge sighed, rolling her eyes at Keith, before a lightbulb suddenly went off in her head as she was reminded of the year before.
“So… you remember Professor Ulaz’s class last year, right?” She started, wiggling her brow suggestively.
“How could I? I was stuck with your annoying ass the entire semester.” He grumbled in response, already not liking where the conversation was going.
“Great! So you remember that time when you forgot we had an assignment due that day so I let you — ”
“Yes. I remember that.” He cut off, shoving his palm into her face as if to non-verbally tell her to ‘shut up’. “What about it?”
“You owe me a favour.” And Keith immediately understood where this entire conversation was headed.
“No. Absolutely not. No.”
“Oh, come on!”
“This is photography of all things, Pidge. No.”
“Remember when you thanked me so much afterwards and promised you’d do anything I asked — ”
“Okay, okay. I get it! Anything but this.” Keith interrupted again, sick of remembering the desperation he went through that day after forgetting about such a crucial assignment.
“Well, I have nothing else I want, so it’s this or nothing, Keith; and you promised!”
Keith grumbled, muttering something inaudible under his breath.
“What was that?” Pidge teased, putting a hand behind her ear as she leaned in closer for Keith to repeat his sentence.
“I said, I’ll consider.” He signed in defeat, shoulders dropping ever-so-slightly at that. Pidge smiled triumphantly, already turning around to head towards the brown-haired boy.
He glanced over to where the commotion had previously been — Rolo and Nyma had departed and the brown-haired boy looked extremely distressed standing there alone after facing rejection. At least it wasn’t a confession like he had originally thought — the backlash would have been worse.
“I’ll have Lance — that guy over there — contact you when he’s free to shoot. Thanks Keith!”
And with that Pidge ran off to where Lance was standing, and Keith stood there utterly baffled by what he had just been dragged into.
—
“So much for asking random strangers.”
The three were currently crammed at a small coffee table — made for two, rather than three — on the campus’s local coffee shop, Vrepit Sa’s. They had just spent the past hour going around the outside of the engineering building asking strangers if they were willing to partake in Lance’s project — and by ‘they’, they meant Lance who was experiencing what Hunk claimed to be ‘rejection therapy’. ‘Terrible’ would be an understatement considering out of the ten plus people he had asked, six of them outright rejected him immediately, three of them at least listened before saying no, one of them’s friend — or whatever — thought it was a love confession and intervened, and a solid none of them even said they’d consider — and ‘consider’ wouldn’t have even meant ‘yes’ anyway.
“Maybe it’s just you, Lance.” Pidge laughed, taking a wooden popsicle stick from the table to stir her hot chocolate a bit before taking a massive, disgustingly loud sip.
“Oh, yeah?” Lance challenged, making a fake-mad expression on his face as he crossed his arms. “And how many people did you ask?.”
“One.” She smirked smugly, and Lance was about to bash her for only asking one person, but he knew that expression all too well. “And he said he’d consider.”
“What?” He exclaimed, standing up from his seat as his chair scraped against the tiled flooring. The once bustling and loud café immediately quieted down, all eyes glancing in Lance’s direction for a moment before whispers built back up into loud conversation.
“Quiet it down!” Hunk whisper-yelled, flushing red in second-hand embarrassment.
“No, no — wait. What do you mean you asked someone and he said he’d consider? Is this real? Am I dreaming? Are you playing with me? Please say you’re not lying, Pidge.” He rambled, sitting back down in his seat as he leaned forward and towards her in full investment.
“He owed me a favour from the time I helped him in class last year.” She slid her phone across the table, showing a contact that said ‘Keith Kogane’ on it with a foreign number underneath. “He’s a mechanical engineer major in his junior year — that should work with what you’re looking for.”
“I told him you’d contact him for a shooting date, so you can have his number.” She added, nudging the phone closer to Lance as if that was an invitation to record his number in his own phone.
“Does he, like, actually want to do this, or — ”
“Well, he said he’d consider, and that favour he owes me is pretty big so he better do it.” Pidge interjected, reassuring Lance as she nudged the phone forward one last time.
“I guess.” Lance reluctantly took his own phone out in response, opening the contacts app before adding a new contact and copying the name and number down. He also made sure to add a few little notes like: ‘mechanical engineer’, and ‘potential muse for Thace final project’.
“Has he done this stuff before?” Lance questioned, putting his phone away after saving the guy’s contact. Pidge shrugged in response.
“No clue.”
“Do you know if he’s photogenic — ”
“Lance.” Hunk interrupted, recognizing Lance’s overthinking habit surfacing. “Just text him. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“Exactly! You only live once!”
—
UNKNOWN NUMBER — 1:49PM
Hey!
Pidge mentioned you were willing to consider being my subject for my photography project
Would you be free to meet tomorrow afternoon?
This is Lance, by the way
Sure