Chapter Text
Lance groaned. The violin wailed, sounding like a screeching cat. Why did he have the room closest to the alley between him and his neighbor’s house? Why did the stupid new kid have to live there? Why did he have to practice violin in his backyard?
“ At least he sucks at something…” Lance glared at his window, thinking of how the stupid new kid with his stupid fingerless gloves could do everything he couldn’t and more. Lance turned back to his Sailor Moon manga, when another long wail drifted through his walls. Lance groaned. It would be nice if Keith sucked at something that didn’t ruin Lance’s reading.
The violin kept on squealing, sharp and painful and almost to the tune of ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star”. Mid-note the song stopped, and then… the terrifying opening notes. Again.
Lance groaned, and closed his manga.
Then he thought of how Nyma, the gorgeous 8th-grader who had smiled at Keith. He thought about how Keith drooped in his seat in science, eyes lidded, doodling, and yet answered every question correctly. Lance remembered how every time the teacher praised him, Keith smiled a little.
“Smug bastard…” Lance thought, feeling edgy for thinking such a bad word, “I’m going to teach him a lesson.”
Lance swaggered over to where his trumpet lay in it’s case. He pulled to out, opened the window, and started to play. From memory, of course. The notes rang loud and clear and bright, without mistake. The violin music stopped.
Then, there was a clear note from the violin, but soon it halted to a screeching stop. There was a pause, and the first three notes came, slightly garbled. Lance huffed. Leave it to the new kid to improve so quickly. No matter, Lance was still obviously better.
The violin ploughed on, and Lance listened, frowning as the notes became clearer and clearer.
“ Still sucky, though,” Lance looked away. Once the song was through, he picked up his trumpet and grinned evilly.
He’d been practicing ‘Blackbird’ for his Dad, and readied his sheet music. The music flowed clearly from his trumpet, and even though Lance didn’t hit all the notes correctly, it was much better than anything Keith could do.
There was a long pause before the beginning of ‘Old McDonald’ tripped through the air. Lance snickered. Keith really was a beginner. This was even worse than the last one.
As the song wore on, a small voice at the back of Lance’s mind wondered if he should really be doing this. Lance remembered how awful Pidge was when she started, and how Lance found her crying behind the school one afternoon. He’d told her that being bad was ok.
The violin’s screeching stopped abruptly.
He remembered how horrible he’d sounded in the beginning, and how jealous he’d been of his brother’s skills.
Lance pulled the curtains further back, and looked out the window, at Keith, who stood with his legs wide, close to the chain-link fence of his backyard. His eyes were piercing and angry, and his violin was clenched in one hand, bow in the other. Lance gulped. He hadn’t really looked at Keith to see what he’d been feeling about all this.
The sound of the violin wasn’t a song after that, it was pure screeching. Lance bit his lip. He’d gone too far. Keith’s eyes bored into Lance’s as he dragged the bow across the strings with way too much force.
Lance looked around nervously. Then, he launched himself out his window and ran across the alley, hoping Keith would hear him out.
The screeching stopped, and Lance poked his hands into the holes of the chain-link fence.
“What?” Keith spat, voice poison.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” the way he said it made it sound like a curse word, not a greeting.
Lance licked his lips and gulped, “I, uh, maybe shouldn’t have done that.”
Keith’s eyes opened for a second, wide and surprised, but then, “Damn right, Lance.”
Lance felt a little happy that Keith knew his name. He mentally shook his head.
“I’m sorry. You’re new, apparently new to the violin, and that’s not wrong.”
Keith looked away, movements abrupt.
Lance sucked in a breath that stung his teeth with cold, “I know how hard it is to learn an instrument, and you’re really good at… stuff, so I guess I just wanted to show off.”
Keith nodded curtly.
“Look, I’m really sorry, man. I made a mistake. I’m apologizing.”
Keith turned to Lance, and shrugged, “Ok.”
“Ok?”
“Yeah-ok. It’s ok.”
Lance shrugged back, and then just stood, watching Keith. Keith grew fidgety, and looked away quickly.
“Well, see you at school, then...” Lance said, backing away awkwardly. He waved a little before turning and running to the window. Before he climbed through it, he turned back to see Keith with a strange expression on his face. Keith waved and turned away, going back inside.
“Maybe he’s not that bad…” Lance thought.
That school year, Lance and Keith became best friends. Not better than he and Hunk, but up there., and Pidge helped Keith with the violin. It turned out that Keith was so bad because he’d just started. They learned he was an orphan and his foster parents told him he had to learn a musical instrument, because they were musicians.
“It’s so stupid! I’m not even their kid,” Keith had said, an empty popcorn bowl on his lap, “I’ve always taken Art, and I’m way better at that.”
They’d been having another weekend sleepover at Hunk’s (he had the best snacks and movies) when they found out, not only about the violin, but about Keith’s not having parents. Keith said he was fine, and he seemed it, so it didn’t come up after that.
Now, Lance wishes it had. Because Keith moved away the next year, with a tired expression on his face, like this—letting go—had been normal.
And there was the night before Keith left.
-0-
The gravel crunched underneath his feet as he crept up to Lance’s window. Lance started in his bed when he saw the figure coming closer.
“Keith?”
“Hey.”
“What are you doing here?”
Keith shrugged and smiled softly, leaning into the window. Lance’s reading light touched Keith’s face, highlighting his dark eyes. Lance put down Ranma ½ and sat up in bed.
“I guess I just wanted to say thank you,” Keith said, eyes dipping down to the window sill.
Lance frowned, “For what? I mean, I know that all who are lucky enough to be my friend are basically blessed, but…”
“Well, if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have any friends.”
“Right,” Lance rolled his eyes, “You’re so popular it hurts to watch.”
Keith shook his head, “But I’m not very good with people. You made it easier, despite everything.”
Lance huffed, “‘Despite everything’? Wow, rude. But, uh, thanks.”
He looked at Keith, the familiar curve of his eyes, the shape of his mouth, how his hair fell into his face…
“ Stupid emo best friend,” thought Lance.
Lance remembered watching Keith draw, remembered partnering up in gym, remembered how Keith shook with laughter at Lance’s mistakes, and how he didn’t even get mad.
That would be gone. Tomorrow, there would be no Keith throwing sarcastic comments Lance’s way, there would be no Keith explaining confusing science lessons, no Keith twirling his pencil at lightning speed. No Keith to fawn over the stars with, no Keith eating his mom’s sopapillas and Hunk’s chocolate chip cookies. There would be no more Pidge-and-Keith violin duets, with Keith frowning when he made a mistake and smiling when Pidge messed up. Lance licked his lips and swallowed, his eyes starting to get wet.
“I’m gonna miss you, Keith,” his voice cracked, “I’m gonna miss you so bad.”
Keith’s mouth opened in surprise. When Keith told them about going to another foster home about a week ago, Lance had played it cool. But it was so not cool.
“I’m gonna miss you, and your horrible violin, and your stupid emo fringe.”
Keith shook his head, “Even when you miss me, you’re rude.”
The tears were hot on his cheeks, and his shoulders shook, “Yeah, well, live with it.”
Keith smiled fondly, and Lance’s heart tripped.
“I’m gonna miss you, too,” he traced a design on the window sill, and Lance saw his eyes were wet, too.
Lance watched him, and leaned forward. With the window sill digging into him, he wrapped his arms around Keith, and was astounded by how soft he was. Keith dug his face in Lance’s shoulder, and Lance had the urge to never let go.
“You’re a great friend, Lance,” Keith mumbled, and then pulled away, frowning sadly. He waved a little, Lance waved a little, and Keith crept away, never to be seen again.
Lance collapsed into the him-shaped hole in the mattress, pulled the covers over his head, and cried until he slept.