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Lance laid in bed hidden beneath a mountain of sheets, refusing to come out even for fresh air. He had been hidden beneath said blankets for five hours now, the lights in the room off. Allura had knocked on the door a few times in the past two hours to try and gain entry, but Lance wouldn’t even answer the door, and she wasn’t one to intrude on personal (physical) space.
So he stayed in his room curled up with his knees to his chest, eyes studying his blanket and memorizing the pattern in which the fibers go.
Another knock sounded at his door, almost a soft thud. Most likely Pidge, he thought. Only her hands were small enough to make such a delicate sound when trying to be loud.
“Lance,” Pidge calls from behind the door. “Are you okay?”
Lance doesn’t answer, hoping she will go away. A few moments pass before she’s knocking again.
“Lance, come on. I’m worried about you.”
“Go away,” he mutters into the sheets, turning to face the wall and opting for a different view.
“Don’t make me come in there,” Pidge warns. “What’s the matter?”
“I said to go away, Pidge. I don’t want to be bothered right now.”
There’s silence on the other end. Lance buries himself deeper under the pile of blankets, thinking to himself that maybe if he stays under there long enough he will suffocate and die.
Then they wouldn’t be bothered by me anymore, he thinks. I’m just a problem to them, that’s all I ever will be.
He closes his eyes, trying to stop the tears from overflowing. Why he was crying, he didn’t understand. Nothing happened to him today that could have made him feel this down, he hadn’t even left the bed today.
He just woke up feeling sad and worried, and he didn’t understand why.
But what he did understand was that these feelings were real, and they weren’t going to go away anytime soon. He was onto hour six of laying in bed sulking. Half the day had passed by now, and normally he would be out seizing it. On any other day, he would have been productive. He would have risen from his beauty sleep and hopped into the shower, pampering his skin with coconut oil and combing out his hair that has now grown out to just above the nape of his neck. He would have had breakfast with the other paladins, maybe argue a little bit here and there with Keith.
But he wasn’t in the mood for any of that right now. Right now, all he wanted to do was cry. And cry he did.
The tears began to flow onto his pillowcase long before he was even aware of them, and now he could see just how soaked the fabric was. He hated crying. He was supposed to be happy all the time, be confident and cocky, the rock of the team, besides Shiro of course. He was there for comedic relief, to make others happy.
Comedic relief- that’s what was bothering him.
Comedic relief, was that really all he was? Was he just there for everyone else’s amusement? The clown? Of course he was. None of the other Paladins actually cared for him, actually considered him a friend. How could they?
And even if they did think kindly of him, he surely wasn’t someone they would consider themselves close with, right? There were so many of them on this team, they didn’t have time for each other, especially not when they spent most time training or fighting to protect the Universe. With the little downtime they had, they wouldn’t want to be spending it with him.
His family never spent time with him either.
‘That’s because they never loved you.’
“Shut up” he tells the voice in his head, sitting up tall in his bed. “Shut up, shut up, shut up.”
He squeezes his eyes shut, bringing his knees up to his chest, burying his face in between his legs as he rocks himself slightly back and forth.
What was happening to him? Why was he shaking? Why couldn’t he breathe, and why did it feel like the world was about to collapse on him, about to crush him?
“Lance!” Keith bangs on the door, voice loud and booming. It makes Lance’s heart race more. “Lance what’s going on? Who’s in there?”
“No one,” Lance gasps out, trying to calm himself. “Go away!”
“Hell no, I’m coming in.”
“No-” Lance tries to protest, but it’s too late. Keith has already barged into his private space, sword ready to attack any possible intruder, but he drops it when he sees Lance in his current state under the covers.
“I s-said to go away, d-damnit!” Lance yells, balling the blanket up in his fists.
“Lance, what’s wrong?”
“Why do you care? J-just go away! Go tell the others, make fun o-of me if you want. Just leave me the hell alone!” His voice breaks, tears choking him up. He clenches his jaw and shuts his eyes tight, trying his best to keep the tears from escaping, but they just keep pouring down.
Why was he like this? What was wrong with him?
It’s silent. Surely Keith had run off to tell the others, to make fun of him for being so weak. He would never live this down. Now he would be remembered as the cry-baby of the team, the wink link. The unwanted one. The unimportant one.
A pair of arms wraps around him tightly, pulling his head into their chest. A hug? Lance opens his eyes and sees the red jacket layering a black shirt, the steady up and down movement of Keith’s chest when he breathes.
“What are you-”
“Just shut up,” Keith says. “Just shut up and breathe.”
Lance does as he is told, moving his head into the crook of Keith’s neck, absorbing the warmth of his skin.
Two minutes pass. Three. Four. Soon, fifteen. By then Lance’s breathing has slowed to a normal rate, his tears are flowing less and less.
“What is wrong with me?” He asks, more to himself, not expecting an answer.
“Nothing’s wrong with you. It’s just an anxiety attack. You’re going to be okay.”
Lance blushes slightly. “Um, thank you.”
He reluctantly pulls himself away from Keith, face growing hotter when their eyes meet momentarily. How embarrassing for him, crying in front of Keith and clinging to him like he did.
Secretly, he enjoyed it.
“Don’t mention it.”
This was weird. Normally Keith wouldn’t do something like this for Lance, not for anyone, really. He didn’t seem like the sentimental type. He was always angry, always ready to fight.
Yet he was fighting, in a way. He came in here wielding a sword, for crying out loud. He was ready to fight whoever was hurting Lance, his teammate, his friend. And now here he was, fighting for Lance in a completely different way.
“Feeling better?” Keith breaks the silence. His eyes aren’t angry they usually seem, but concerned.
“Y-yeah, I guess.” Lance rubs his arm with his hand, cringing slightly. “Please don’t tell anyone… about this.” He gestures between them.
“I won’t.”
“Swear on your life?”
“I swear?”
“You’ve gotta pinky promise this.”
“What are you, five?”
Lance glares at Keith with his pinky finger held out in front of him, completely serious. Keith lets out a sigh and links pinkies for a moment with him, then gently pulls away.
“What were you so upset about, anyway?” He lays back onto Lance’s bed, legs dangling over the edge, eyes focused on the ceiling.
“Honestly, I don’t know.” Lance joins him, laying down on his back as well. “I just woke up sad. I thought if I stayed in bed and ignored it, it would eventually go away.”
“You can’t run away from your feelings.”
“You do all the time.”
Keith rolls his eyes. “No, I don’t. I just don’t feel anything.”
“That’s bullcrap and you know it.”
“It’s not.”
“Right, you only show your emotions as anger.”
Keith shoots a glare his way, a scowl forming on his lips, face growing pink. “Is this really the way you should be talking to someone who just came in to take care of your butt?”
Lance didn’t understand why he was starting this with Keith right now. He was right, this wasn’t the way you should thank someone for being kind to you, for helping you calm down in one of the most terrifying experiences he had ever had. But Lance had never had someone do something like this for him before. No one has ever paid enough attention to him to even know he was feeling like garbage, so how the heck was he supposed to thank Keith?
“Sorry,” Keith sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I shouldn’t be yelling at you, anyway. You just had a lot going on only a few minutes ago, I shouldn’t be adding to the stress.”
Lance presses his lips quickly to Keith’s temple, pulling away just as fast as he had placed the kiss, if not faster. Keith’s face sets on fire and he turns to face Lance, as if asking for an explanation, mouth wide open but no sound coming out.
“Thank you, Keith,” Lance says, hand covering the blush that spreads across his cheeks like wildfire.
Keith stares at him for a while, still in shock. Lance moves his hands over his eyes, trying to hide himself as best as he can.
Why in the hell did he do that? What was wrong with him? His mind was racing a million miles per second, his heart following in pursuit. Should he apologize? Kick Keith out of his room? He needed to leave the team, move far far away and change his name, find a disguise-
His lips tasted like cherries, and he wasn’t sure how or why, but he didn’t question it. Lance kissed back gently, his face now burning hot, his lips not able to stop themselves from smiling.
Keith pulled away, eyes wide, face burning bright red.
“What was that for?” Lance asks. He can’t wipe the stupid grin off of his face, especially not when Keith is clearly panicking on the inside but trying to remain calm.
Keith stands up quickly, rubbing the nape of his neck. “Consider it a ‘your’e welcome,’” He turns his back on Lance, ready to walk out the door and run to his room to scold himself for kissing his partner, but Lance’s grip on his hand keeps him from moving.
“Thanks, again,” he says. “Really.”
“Don’t mention it,” Keith nods, resisting the sudden urge to look back. He knows that if he does, he won’t want to leave, and right now he needed some time alone to sort some feelings out. “Seriously, don’t.”
Lance nods, and within a second Keith is out the door. He presses the tips of his fingers to his lips, trying to store in his memory the way Keith’s mouth felt on his. Already he was wanting more, and that was something he would never admit out loud.
Lance’s thoughts and feelings of self doubt and loathing were gone now, but they were replaced with a different feeling that was rolling around in the pit of his stomach.
Whether or not this feeling was good or bad, he couldn’t tell, but it was surely better than whatever he was feeling before.
He laid back down in his bed and curled in a ball, blankets pulled up over his chest, and eventually he fell asleep.