Archive of Our Own ^beta

Keith eyed the clock warily, watching helplessly as the hands moved in their forever clockwise motion, bringing the day closer and closer to an end. Why couldn’t the school days be longer?

It’s not that he particularly liked school, but Keith only had two places that he could go. If he couldn’t be at school, then he’d have to go home, and he really didn’t want to go there. He couldn't really call it a home though, because that's simply not what it was. It was a place to sleep, with a family that wasn’t a family, and it was hell. But it was his only option.

No matter how intensely he stared at the clock, begging for the second hand to tick just a little slower, it didn’t change its speed. And then the minute hand hit 12, and the last school bell of the day rang right on time, its sharp sound filling him up with nothing but dread.

Noise filled the room as students shuffled out of their desks and headed for the door, chatter and small talk erupting from the quiet. Keith could hear his heart beat growing louder and faster, and let out a pained sigh, forcing himself to get up and leave. He winced as he stood, pain shooting through his thigh as he put pressure on it, from where he’d been kicked by his parents.

But they weren’t his parents. They were a couple who had taken him in, and why they did it was beyond Keith, but that's all they were. They were two strangers that had decided to let Keith stay at their house.

He’d been adopted by them a year ago, and at the time, they seemed like nice folks. Keith thought that maybe god had finally decided to smile upon him and give him a chance at making himself a real home. Boy was he wrong.

That couple was not a happy couple. They kept their facade up for about a month, treating him like an acquaintance. It was a little stiff, but at least they’d been kind. But Keith had a temper, and it was the first time that they had had an argument that everything began to unravel, and Keith realized just in what kind of a home he’d been placed in.

Keith hurried out the classroom, fast walking to his locker to grab his things. He noticed the sleeves of his red jacket riding up and he yanked them back down, arm stinging as the fabric rubbed against the cigarette burns on his skin.

His foster parents smoked.

Keith sighed as he swung his backpack over his shoulder and began to head home. He was in no hurry to go back, but if he was late, the consequences would be far more severe.

Keith was strong, but he refused to fight back, despite every voice in his head and every nerve in his body screaming at him for him to do so. No matter how much they beat him, kicked him, cut him, burned him, he refused to retaliate. It wouldn’t change anything, and it’d probably just make things worse.

If he fought back and the police came, his foster parents could play victim and blame him, and if he told someone about how he was being treated, then he’d be put back in the system. And wherever else he ended up, it couldn’t be much better than here. Besides, he didn’t want to transfer schools again and have to catch up on all that work. It just wasn’t worth it.

He was 15. Only three more years to go before he could get out into the world and be on his own. And be free.

-

Only three more years to go, he repeated in his head as he knocked lightly on the front door. His foster parents refused to give him a key. If they didn’t want to let him in, or if they weren't home, then he’d have to jump over the fence and wait in the backyard.

The door swung open, revealing his foster mother, standing there with disapproval in her eyes.

“Hi,” said Keith, stepping into the house hesitantly.

The moment he did so, she slammed the door shut, the sudden and loud sound causing him to flinch. What did I do wrong this time?

The impact shook the house and the vibrations ran all the way through the floor and up his legs. The shaking must’ve been transferred to him because he continued to tremble as the woman pushed him forwards and up the stairs.

“Have you seen the state of your room? It’s a goddamn mess. What are you, an animal?” she whispered.

Keith almost sighed out loud, but he held it back, knowing that it would only earn him a slap on the back of his head.

The stairs creaked under him as he walked, but then all of a sudden, his foster mother pushed past him to get ahead, and then turned, blocking his path.

“We give you a home, a place to live, and what do you do? You destroy it.”

Keith was sure it wasn’t that bad. He was a neat freak, so how messy could his room possibly be? Worst case scenario, he’d left a few of his books on his floor and forgot to fold up the sheets on his bed. How that could be considered destruction, Keith had no idea.

“Sorry ma’am,” he replied calmly.

His hands shook as he tried his very best not to let them clench into fists. He attempted to take another step up, but the woman didn’t move.

“You think I’m just going to let you go up now? If you mess up, you get punished. That’s how life works. If you don’t realize that there are consequences that come with mistakes, then you’ll never learn.” She leaned in close. “I’m doing this for your own good.”

And then she pushed him.

He remembered thinking that he probably could’ve kept his balance, but he knew that then she’d only push him harder. His stomach twisted at how weak he was. How helpless. He had let himself fall. When did he become so compliant? So accepting? So defeated?

It happened too fast for him to register anything in his mind, the falling, the tumbling, it went oh so quickly and the next moment, he was lying in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the stairs.

For one second, he felt nothing. And the next, pain exploded in his head from where it had hit the ground, blinding him and scattering his thoughts. Nothing else existed, it was just this pain, white hot and so overwhelming.

Only three more..to…go…three more..only..years…he couldn’t think. And then everything faded to black.

-

When he came to, he was still lying at the bottom of the stairs. He turned his head slightly, relieved when it caused only a light sting and an otherwise dull throb in his head. He looked over into the living room, and could see his foster mother asleep on the sofa. He glanced at the clock hanging on the wall above her. He’d been lying here for two hours. She hadn’t bothered to move him, or to check if he was okay.

Only three more years to go. Only 1095 more days like this to go.

The thought didn’t seem as hopeful as it had before.

Keith slowly pushed himself upright, and got to his feet, hand pressed against the wall to help balance him. A wave of nausea washed over him, but he forced himself to move.

He grabbed his backpack, which had both somewhat worsened and cushioned his fall, and started upwards. He needed to do his homework. The criticism at ‘home’ was more than enough for him, and he didn’t need any of that from his teachers at school, his only escape.

-

A few hours later, Keith had finished all his work, and now had nothing to do. He had no computer, or any device other than a very old phone for emergencies. All he had were a few books, all of which he’d read at least a couple times.

Keith got onto his bed and lied down, sighing as he stared at the white ceiling. His mattress felt like a rock, but at least it was warmer than the wooden floor. The sound of a car pulling up outside caused Keith to tense up. The man was home.

Keith immediately jumped off his bed, sliding back into his chair and fishing out a random book to read. If his foster father saw him ‘wasting daylight’ as he called it, he’d get beaten.

But Keith knew it was useless when he heard those thundering footsteps echo through the house. The man wasn’t in a good mood, he could tell, and that meant that either Keith was going to get hit, his foster mother was going to get hit, or there would be no dinner for him. Or maybe it’d be all three of those things.

Three. Only three more years to go.

-

When he woke up the next morning with chest throbbing, arms stinging, head aching, legs burning, and stomach growling, something in him snapped. He couldn’t take this anymore.

He didn’t know what had changed. After all, he’d been willing to put up with the abuse for over a year. He thought that he’d be able to tough it out and get used to it. However the ‘discipline’ had been gradually getting harsher and harsher, and Keith honestly wouldn’t be surprised if they eventually managed to kill him.

He even kind of hoped that they would screw up one day and hit him too hard, and he’d just die. Then they’d get the consequences that they deserved, the ones that they’d been preaching about from day one.

But this particular morning, Keith was just so tired. Everything hurt. He was so angry at himself, at his foster parents, at this world, at his life. What had he done to deserve this? It wasn’t fair.

Only three more years to go huh? Three years till what? His foster parents weren’t going to help pay for his college tuition, so if he couldn’t get a scholarship, then he was screwed. Why did he think he had a future? He was fairly smart with the grades to prove it, but in the end, what was any of this for?

People were cruel, with no exceptions that he had seen, and the world was filled with an endless amount of people. How much better could things possibly get? All life had in store for him was pain, pain, and oh surprise, more pain.

So it wasn’t entirely shocking when the thought wriggled into his mind, pushing out everything else and taking up as much room as it could.

I don’t want to live anymore.

The weight of those words descended on him as if the entire ocean was falling from above and swallowing him right up. Everything became sort of muted, and he had two choices. Swim, or sink. And he’d already chosen.

So Keith packed up his backpack, made his bed, put on the same and only clothes that he had, and headed to school as he normally would.

On his way, he passed an elementary school bus-stop, and stopped to watch as a group of parents waved goodbye to their children with smiles on their faces. Keith’s heart lurched in envy as he took in the care-free grins on the faces of almost every child. This, the unconditional love of a parent, and the gift of an ignorant but blissful childhood, that was all he had wanted. And that was what he never got, and never would.

-

Today, he didn’t bother adjusting his sleeves. If his bruises and burns showed, then fine, let them. He didn’t care. It wasn’t his problem.

And today, he looked forward to the last bell, because when it rang, he knew he wasn’t heading home. He was heading to the roof.

As Keith made his way up those long winding stairs, he felt nothing. Even as he pushed open the heavy door that lead to the roof, he remained devoid of fear. There was only the determination to do one thing.

School wasn’t the ideal place to die, but it was the tallest building that he had access to. Four stories was enough to kill someone, right? He sure hoped so. Well, even if he survived, it wasn’t as if it’d bother anyone. His foster parents sure wouldn’t care, and he had no friends to cry over him or to confront.

But if he did die, then that was fine too. That would be great. There was not a single person in this world that would miss him.

His biological parents didn’t want him, none of the foster homes he’d been in gave a shit about him, and not a single classmate he’d ever had had ever tried to befriend him. And God? Well he clearly didn’t care about anything that happened to him. Keith couldn’t remember a single good thing in his life. There was absolutely nothing to live for. What was surprising was why it took Keith so long to realize this.

Keith set down his backpack and began to walk forward. He wanted to take this nice and slow, to revel in these last moments, and to really think things through. He took off his jacket, revealing the ugly scars and wounds spiraling down the both of his pale arms.

He stepped up to the edge, not even hesitating to push himself up onto the ledge. He asked himself over and over again, is this what you really want? Do you want to die? He almost wished there was some, but he truly couldn’t find any opposition.

Looking down, the sidewalk seemed so inviting. It was escape, right here, right now. Another option. He could actually do this. He could actually stop everything. All this pain could be erased just like that…the mere idea of it filled him with an unfamiliar giddiness.

Then he heard the door swing open, and turned around in surprise. A pair of blue eyes locked onto his, also seemingly shocked. It was a boy standing there, with tanned skin and dark brown hair, and long, lanky legs and arms. He stared at Keith, and there was maybe three seconds of silence as the boy visibly considered what to say.

“A-are you going to jump?” he asked finally, voice hesitant and nervous.

Keith wanted to roll his eyes. He was standing on a roof, on the ledge, alone, staring down at the ground. No, he wasn’t going to jump. He just wanted to admire the sidewalk four stories above ground.

Keith didn’t even have to the energy to reply, so he turned back around.

“Wait!” he shrieked frantically. “Y-you won’t die.”

Keith sighed. It didn’t matter to him either way. Even if he did survive, how bad could the pain be? The hospital sounded more comfortable than his house.

“Is this really how you want to go?”

No. But was this the life he wanted? No. Nothing had ever gone his way, so why would it, why should it start now? As long as he could just get away from it all, as long as he could finally be left alone and in peace, then he didn’t care how he did it. He just wanted to die. So, so bad.

Keith took a deep breath, clenching and unclenching his fists, looking up at the sky, and then looking back down at the ground. He really, really wanted to die. It was the only thing he could think about at that moment. He hadn’t even realized how badly he had wanted to escape from everything, to run away. And here was his opportunity to do so. He had taken all those painful steps up the stairs, and now, with just one more step, it’d be over. Relief. Finally.

“Hey, wait, come on. At least tell me why. Please? Don’t you want somebody to know what you were thinking?”

Someone to listen? Why? It’s not like it mattered. It’s not like anything mattered. But if he really wanted to know, then fine. So Keith responded by reaching down and pulling off his shirt, tossing it onto the ground. After all, they say a picture is worth a thousand words.

He could hear a muffled gasp, and Keith couldn’t help but smile bitterly, turning around to catch the boy’s reaction.

His lips were pressed tightly together in a thin line, eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed, his expression unreadable but a mix of disbelief and something else as he stared at Keith’s bare upper half.

Bruises, scars, cuts, burns, they all decorated Keith’s skin like trophies. What he had done to earn them, he had absolutely no idea.

Seeing a reaction to all that he had been through was….oddly relieving. But now he also felt exposed. His only secret was out in the open, and whom had he chosen to reveal it to? A complete stranger.

“It’s not worth it,” whispered the boy, but he didn’t even sound like he believed himself.

Then what is? Going back to that god-forsaken house and collecting more scars?

“Hey wait.” The boy’s voice had gone soft, like a cloud. Many seconds passed before he spoke next. “Can I hug you?”

Keith had to blink a few times. And then the word was out before he could stop it, spoken in a voice that he couldn’t even recognize because it sounded so horrifyingly broken. “Yes.”

And then he found himself stumbling off of the ledge and towards the boy, like a lost child looking for home. Why, why, why, why, why was he doing this? He didn’t know.

But the boy walked towards him and embraced him with warm and welcome arms. Keith didn’t think he’d ever been hugged before, and it felt so nice. He didn’t know if it was because he desperately needed a hug, or if the boy was simply a good hugger, but Keith had never imagined that the place he’d feel safest was in a stranger’s arms.

“Hey, look.”

Keith pulled away a little to look at the boy. Their faces were mere inches apart, and Keith was pretty sure that was a little closer than what would be accepted as normal, but he was too comfortable to care.

The boy’s eyes were teary for some reason, but he still smiled. Then he said something that Keith had never, ever expected to hear coming out of anybody’s mouth for him.

“I care about you.”

Now, Keith wasn’t much of a crier. But those words sounded so genuine despite the fact they were coming from a boy who didn’t even know him. Since when were there such kind people, and where had they been all his life?

And then everything just fell down on him all at once. Like an elastic band pulled back too far snapping in half. He thought he’d already reached his breaking point but he guessed he was wrong. It was all too much, and he couldn’t stop it. Once the first tear escaped from the growing pool sitting in the rim of his eyes, the rest just kept rolling down and down.

The boy looked startled, but he said nothing, and pulled Keith back in for an even tighter hug. Keith sobbed into the boy’s shoulder, his tears soaking up the fabric. Somewhere in his mind, he was embarrassed, but it didn’t matter right now. Letting all these feelings go, letting them out, and showing them to someone, it was like a weight was being lifted from his shoulders. He had someone here who for some reason cared, and that was what mattered right then.

“You can’t give up,” said the boy. “You can’t give up.”

He repeated the phrase over and over again, as if it was a lullaby and he was trying to sing Keith to sleep. It was comforting, but the way he said it also seemed off. He was saying it to Keith, but in a way, it also felt like the boy was saying it to himself. That made Keith realize something.

When he managed to collect himself and calm his shaky breathing, he pulled away.

“Thank you,” whispered Keith in a croaky, but firm voice.

“No problemo, I’m glad I could help. The name’s Lance, and um, I’m here if you ever need to talk, okay?”

Keith breathed, and tried to offer a smile. The expression felt foreign on his face. The boy grinned back at him.

“I’m Keith,” he started. “Also, why were you on the roof in the first place?” Keith couldn’t help but ask. Something inside warned him against it, but his curiosity got the better of him.

Immediately, he felt the boy tense up, and then relax again. However, the relaxedness seemed almost artificial, like it was forced.

“I saw you on the roof, and you looked like you were going to jump, so I rushed up as fast as I could to talk some sense into you.”

Keith had been lied to all his life, and he knew a lie when he saw it. He’d barely been on the ledge for a second before the boy came through the door, so that reason was invalid. But he didn’t want to push it. It probably didn’t matter anyways. He was just grateful that Lance was willing to be here to hug him, a total stranger.

“Thank you, again. I’m really, really sorry about this,” muttered Keith, stepping away from Lance. “And please don’t tell anyone about this, or that.” Keith made a gesture at his bruises.

“I dunno, I mean, those look pretty serious…if you need help then you should get it.”

Keith shook his head violently. “No, please.”

“Ok,” he replied somewhat reluctantly and unsurely. But then his voice became serious. “But if I see you up here again…”

Keith didn’t have a response to that. Would he be back? He had no idea. Lance had been here this time, but the next time maybe he wouldn’t be. Keith shook the thought away. The moment was over and looking at the ledge now only made him feel sick. He wasn’t sure if he was glad that he hadn’t jumped yet or not.

Then Keith realized how long he’d been here.

“Oh shit, I have to go, I’m late,” he whispered, whipping around and racing to grab his stuff.

He hurried past Lance and sprinted towards the door, but not before catching a bewildered look on his face.

“You’re just going to go? Just like that?” he asked incredulously.

Keith shook his head. He didn’t have time to explain.

“You don’t understand,” he called up as he ran down the stairs, while simultaneously trying to throw his clothes back on. “I didn’t think I’d still be alive. If I go back any later than now, then I won’t be the one who kills myself.”

-

Keith ran as fast as he could. He needed to get back to the house. Oh man, his foster parents were actually going to kill him.

It’s funny how the thought of going back to a place that was supposed to be called home instilled so much more fear into him than the thought of jumping off a four story building.

He took a deep breath.

Only three years to go. Three.

He thought about Lance’s smile, his hug, his kindness.

He could make it.
Right?

-

Keith walked up to the porch, gasping as he tried to catch his breath. His plan had been to sneak in, but now he remembered that he didn’t have a goddamn key.

He raised his arm, took a deep breath in preparation, and knocked. He had only knocked once when he heard the click of a lock. The door creaked open, revealing his foster father. He was tall and muscular, and practically the definition of intimidating, and when his huge shadow loomed over Keith, and he couldn’t help but gulp.

“Care to explain where you were?” he said, his gruff voice sounding calm. A forced kind of calm. The worst kind.

“I’m sorry, I was studying with a friend and I rushed home when I realized that I had forgotten to tell you,” said Keith, staring hard at his feet.

“I see. That’s how it is. Well come on in then! You’re just in time for dinner.”

This wasn’t normal, and he hesitated before taking a step closer. He really didn’t want to go inside. Out here in the open, he knew that his father couldn’t do anything to him at risk of being seen by a neighbor, but once those doors were shut, as long as he was quiet, he could do anything he wanted. Keith was scared.

Oh so scared.

“Come on in now Keith. Your dinner’s going to get cold,” insisted his father.

He could turn and run away. He could go back to the roof. This wasn’t worth it. This wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t worth it.

He shut his eyes tightly and sighed. Then he walked inside the house.

Three years. Only three more years to go.

The door swung to a close.

-

Lance was shaken. When he’d been walking up those stairs, up, up, up, all the way to the roof, he hadn’t expected to see someone else there. He hadn’t expected to see Keith, who was in two of his classes and was practically a genius, try to jump off a building.

He hadn’t expected to see all those horrible scars on his body….oh man, red, blue, purple, and black bruises scattering across his skin made his back almost look like outer space. There were burns and cuts, and Lance couldn’t even imagine how he had gotten some of those.

Keith never acted strangely in class, and never complained about anything. He seemed to be doing fine. In fact, Lance often envied that pretty face, thinking that life must be so easy for someone like him, with both brains and looks. Lance had never been more wrong about anything in his entire life.

The day had been a roller coaster, and Lance was now able to add hypocrite to the list of things that he was.

He ended up spending about an hour comforting and convincing a boy that he shouldn’t jump, when he’d gone up there to jump himself. It was almost kind of ironic how the things he had said to Keith were things that he wished someone would say to him.

But the thing was, Keith, he had a real reasonable reason to jump. The scars and bruises filled Lance with pain and pity and disbelief. They made him want to curl up into a small ball and whimper, and he wasn’t even the one who had the scars. Keith wanted to die, and Lance could perfectly understand why.

But Lance? His reason was so stupid. He had everything he could possibly need, a loving family, good friends, a good life. Clearly, Keith had none of that. Yet Lance had gone up there today ready to throw it all away. All because of some stupid insecurities. Because of his own mind. God, he was so stupid. So selfish. So ungrateful.

He tried to recount the thoughts that had got him to come up here. You’re worthless. No one needs you. You can’t do anything right. He sighed, and shame filled up his whole being. He always knew that someone had it worse, and seeing it firsthand was a real eye-opener.

Lance eyed the edge trying to remember the feelings that he had felt as he climbed the stairs, but now all he could think about was Keith. Those scars were certainly not self-inflicted. Keith was a loner and Lance often heard rumors of him getting into fights with people, but he didn’t seem like a bad guy, and he definitely didn’t deserve whatever it was that he had gone through. How could anybody let this kind of thing go unnoticed? How could anybody intentionally inflict so much pain on another person? It made Lance sick to the stomach.

He gave the edge one last look, and turned back to the door, walking away. He tried to think about something else, but all his thoughts led back to Keith. What was it that he had said? If I’m any later, I won’t be the one to kill myself.

Now he was worried. Keith didn’t sound like he was joking. Lance tried to forget about it. It’s not my problem. But he wasn’t that heartless, and the more he thought about it as he walked, the more paranoid he became, until eventually he couldn’t take it anymore. His parents were probably still working, or too busy with one of his many other siblings to notice that he wasn’t home yet, so he had extra time.

Lance dropped by the office to grab a copy of the school phonebook, and looked up Keith’s address.

-

“How many times have we told you? You come home directly after school. Do you think we have the time to be constantly wondering where a brat like you is?”

Crack. That was the sound of his belt whipping against Keith’s back. He had to bite down hard on his tongue to keep from crying out. If he screamed, it’d only make it worse.

Goddamn it. He was only an hour late. What was wrong with these people? Why didn’t he just jump? It wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t worth it. The thought screamed from inside as regret bloomed like it was springtime.

Crack. Crack. Crack. Keith’s back stung like it was on fire, like he had fallen from a four story building, because he wasn’t sure anything could possibly hurt more than this, and soon it came to the point where he could barely feel the separate whips, because there was just so much pain radiating from his skin, his muscles, his bones, his whole body. He was somewhat aware of the tears beginning to fall but he couldn’t think about that. His brain was barely working. Everything was becoming fuzzy, and he could physically feel his consciousness begin to slip away.

Just buy a stress ball. Don’t use a living, breathing, feeling person, thought Keith, struggling to hold back a sob.

He didn’t even notice when the whipping stopped, because the pain stayed strong and steady. It rose above everything and consumed his whole world. Was he dying? He hoped the answer was yes because he couldn’t take any more of this.

He’d been on his knees, but at some point he had collapsed onto the ground, the cold wood doing little to soothe his agony. Somehow, over the roaring of blood in his ears, he managed to catch the ding of a doorbell. Who could it be?

He gasped as the man kicked him back towards the kitchen, as if he was merely a piece of furniture to hide, and he tried to listen to his loud footsteps as he walked towards the door.

“Hi—,” started a familiar voice. But he was cut off by the man.

“Who are you?” he asked in a slightly rude manner.

Who was it? Names were floating around in his head but he couldn’t find the right one.

“Ah, uh, I’m Lance, a friend of Keith’s. Are you Keith’s dad?”

Oh, it was Lance. Wait whAT it was Lance? No, no, no, what was he doing here? Was he insane?

“Yes, and what are you here for?”

“Oh I just wanted to uh…ask him a question.”

Keith would’ve face-palmed if he wasn’t struggling to breathe at the moment.

“And you couldn’t just text him?” Suspicion was evident in his father’s voice.

“Oh, I don’t have a phone. My family’s pretty big my parents could only afford to get a phone for my older siblings.”

Keith perked up at that piece of new information. That was truth. He could tell.

“So, uh, can I see him?”

“Sorry, Keith isn’t home right now. Maybe you can come back later.”

Keith could practically see Lance’s eyebrows furrowing in his mind.

“Really? Because I saw him earlier and he seemed like he was in a hurry to get home.”

Keith wanted to die but for an entirely different reason. What the fuck. Lance! Abort, abort! Don’t push it, bad idea, bad idea. Why was he even here? They barely knew each other, and how did he even get his address?

“Actually, he is home, but he just isn’t feeling well, and I don’t think it’d be good for him to see anyone right now.”

“I thought you sai—,” started Lance, but he likely realized that he should turn back from that path. “Can I see him please? I really need to ask him this thing about our class and what we’re learning.”

Why was he trying so hard? Keith groaned quietly as he tried to push himself off the floor. His back screamed in protest, but he tried his best to stand up
straight. He reached over to feel his back, assessing the injuries. At the slightest brush by his fingers, pain erupted like a wildfire, like lava from a goddamn volcano was spilling over him. Keith shut his eyes and tried to remember how breathe, waiting for the pain to subside.

“Keith! You’re friend here wants to see you. Why don’t you come over and tell him how you’re feeling.”

Keith blinked. What was he thinking? But obediently, he walked out from the kitchen and towards the front door, trying his best to look normal. He must’ve done something wrong because concern flashed in Lance’s eyes.

“Hi, uh, what are you doing here?” asked Keith in a hoarse voice.

Lance eyed his father.

“Uh, I was wondering if…you wanted to come over to my house for dinner? And maybe stay the night so we can work together on the project for class?”
Keith’s head immediately spun around to see how his father would react. His face was unreadable.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. As I said, Keith isn’t feeling well,” he said.

Keith could tell that his patience was running low. Didn’t Lance realize that he was just making things worse?

“Ah, are you sure? I mean, this project is worth like half our grade and it’d be really great if he could come over,” pressed Lance.

Keith watched his father. The man narrowed his eyes and seemed to be in deep thought. Then he broke into a smile.

“Heck, one night won’t hurt. Go ahead and grab some of your things Keith.”

He patted Keith on the back with his hand, which normally wouldn’t be anything strange, but since Keith had just been whipped, that pat on the back was like being struck by lightning, shocked a thousand times, and being bit by an alligator. He inhaled sharply. That was a warning. That if he did anything, if he told anyone about his ‘situation’, he was going to be dead. Keith nodded in understanding, and turned to go grab his things.

-

After walking a block, and checking to make sure that his dad was out of earshot, Keith turned to face Lance.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I-I don’t know. I couldn’t just do nothing! I wanted to help, somehow, I don’t know,” replied Lance meekly.

Keith let out a sigh, and fatigue fell over him as his fear faded away giving room for exhaustion to replace it. He felt his legs buckling, and probably would’ve collapsed onto the ground if Lance hadn’t grabbed his arm and yanked him back up.

“Woah dude, are you okay?” asked Lance, voice laced with genuine concern.

“Why do you care?” said Keith tiredly.

“How can I not care? After what you showed me? I was so worried,” he screeched.

“No one usually cares,” whispered Keith under his breath, but it was just loud enough for Lance to catch it.

There was no reply, and Keith looked up, stunned to see Lance looking so unbelievably sad. Why? It’s not like he was going through the pain. Keith couldn’t understand.

“Hey, what I said was true. I care about you.”

“Well then you’re the first.”

He could hear Lance’s breathing hitch.

“You know what, you look like you’re in pain. Your posture’s way too stiff, and you’re kind of limping. What happened? Did your dad do something to you?”

Keith closed his eyes and leaned in to Lance for support.

“I’ll just show you.”

He could feel Lance’s hair brush against his forehead as he nodded.

“Hey, if you can’t walk, then I can…give you a piggy back ride?”

Keith pulled away. “A what?”

“Like you get on my back and I’ll carry you?”

Keith frowned, and then shook his head. He didn’t need Lance thinking he was something useless and something that needed to be fixed. He could deal with his own problems just fine on his own.

“Hey, it’s okay to accept help when you need it every once in a while.”

Keith sighed. He just didn’t have it in him to fight anymore. “Ok.”

Lance smiled, and crouched down, stepping in front of Keith.

“Alrighty, just get on!”

“Uh, how do I do this?”

“Just uh..put your arms around my neck, and I’ll grab your legs and hold you up.”

It took a couple tries before Keith could get onto Lance successfully.

“I said to put your arms around my neck, not choke me,” coughed Lance.

Keith rolled his eyes but said nothing, so Lance began to walk.

Keith had never had a piggy back ride before, so this was a completely new experience. As Lance walked, Keith began to think. He and Lance were about the same height, so their weights were probably around the same, so carrying him must’ve been exhausting. Why was he being so nice? Was it out of pity?

Still, Keith was touched that Lance was willing to do so much for him despite the fact that they had only met a few hours ago. He felt something warm inside, something he’d never felt before. He had absolutely no idea what it was, but it was a nice feeling, and he hoped that he’d never forget it.

-

Keith must’ve dozed off because one moment they were still on the sidewalk two blocks away from his house, and the next, they were on Lance’s front porch. “Hey, off now, I’ve carried you for like twenty minutes. My arms are dying, and you owe me,” wheezed Lance.

Keith leapt off of him immediately, then regretting the sudden jump when pain swelled in the area by his ribs. Ah. It stung when he breathed, and Keith found frustration building up. Did he fracture his ribs somehow? Maybe it had happened when his foster mother pushed him down the stairs. The memory made Keith cringe, and he felt repressed anger resurfacing.

“You okay?” asked Lance, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Keith smiled weakly and nodded. Lance frowned.

“Don’t lie to me.”

Lance must’ve already rang the doorbell because it was then that the door opened, revealing a girl that looked a bit older than Lance.

“Lance! You were so late, you might as well have not come home until tomorrow,” scolded the girl. Then she spotted Keith. “Who’s this? Hey you should’ve told us if you were bringing your boyfr—“

Lance cleared his throat, cutting her words off. “Sis,” he said, voice taking up a warning tone. “Can he stay over for the night? We’re working on a project.”

His sister’s eyebrows flew upwards as she looked between the both of them. “Wow, ok sure, just remember to lock your door and remember that there are children in the house.”

Keith had a bit of an idea of the implications behind Lance’s sister’s words, but he was too tired to try and piece his thoughts together right now. He just wanted to lie down and relax.

Lance growled, but with more annoyance than anger, and pulled Keith with him as he pushed past his sister and into the house.
Keith looked around, trying to take in as much as possible as Lance dragged him up the stairs. The house was cluttered, and he could hear children’s laughter coming from another room.

Unwashed dishes sat piled up in the kitchen, and this house was a mess. But it was full, and it felt warm. You could tell, the instant you laid your eyes on the rooms, that someone was living here. That wasn’t the case for Keith’s house, and for the second time that day, he felt envy biting at his heart.

They came to what he supposed was Lance’s room, and Lance shut the door behind him. Keith could hear the click of a lock. The locked door made Keith feel uncomfortable, but then he reminded himself that this was Lance’s house. And from what he had seen, Lance was a kind person.

“Ok, so what did he do to you?”

Straight to the point then. Keith sighed. He seemed to be sighing a lot lately. He pulled off his jacket and reached for his shirt, but then hesitated, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

The first time he took off his shirt, it was because he thought that he was going to die, and it wasn’t going to matter. But that wasn’t the case now. He looked over uncertainly at Lance, and the expectant look on his face did nothing to comfort his nerves. He exhaled, and started pulling the shirt off as carefully as possible, but he still couldn’t help but grimace as the fabric pressed against the wounds on his back. He was certain that Lance saw him wince, and sighed once more when the other boy stepped forward.

“Do you need me to help you?”

Keith almost choked.

“Um, maybe I can just leave my shirt on.”

“Well you have to take it off, because I need to see if it’s really serious. We have all sorts of medicine because my siblings get into the craziest things you couldn’t even imagine,” explained Lance, chuckling fondly. His eyes seemed distant for a second, but then the window was shut and now all they were was blue, conveying no emotion. “But anyways, if it needs to be treated, then I’ll treat it.”

“Ok, I guess I do kind of need help,” admitted Keith reluctantly.

Lance smirked, and he stepped forward, hands gently grabbing the bottom of his shirt, and slowly starting to pull it off.

Keith felt heat rushing to his face as he stared at Lance, who was only about two inches away from him. This kind of thing wasn’t what acquaintances, or even friends, usually did, right? Oh well. These were special circumstances.

Keith bit his lip as the fabric of his shirt brushed by his back, by where he’d been whipped. He tried not to show his reaction, because he didn’t want to make Lance think that he was hurting him.

When the shirt was finally off, it was inside out, and Keith noticed Lance staring at it intensely. When he finally looked up, he appeared to be quite alarmed.

“Is this blood?”

Keith blinked, and he peered down at his shirt. Yep, there it was. A few red splotches, the metallic smell faint, but still there. It wasn’t enough to soak through his shirt, but there was blood. And enough to be troubling.

Immediately, Lance threw the shirt aside and walked around to see the state of Keith’s back.

“What the fuck.”

It must’ve been pretty serious is what Keith thought as he watched Lance proceed to take a seat on his bed, looking completely dumbfounded.

“That’s…what? Why? How could..no..you don’t…that’s….why?” It seemed that seeing Keith’s injuries had stripped Lance of the ability to form coherent thoughts. And it also seemed that Lance was growing angrier by the second for a reason unknown to Keith.

“That’s just not right. What the fuck. What the fuck. How can you just—, how can anyone--, no you, I, I can’t…..god what the actual fuck!? That’s not fair. That’s not goddamn fair.”

“Are you okay?” asked Keith, genuinely concerned as he watched Lance go through a series of hand gestures and continue to blurt out words.

Lance stared up at Keith, eyebrows raised and eyes looking like they were about to pop out of his head.

“Am I okay? Am I okay? Dude! Are you okay?”

Before Keith could respond, Lance cut him off. “No! There’s no way you are okay. This is insane.”

Lance stood back up and walked in front of Keith, setting the both of his hands on his shoulders and staring directly into his eyes.

“I am taking you to a hospital, and there is no way in hell, earth, or heaven, that anyone is going to stop me.”

Keith grabbed Lance’s arms.

“Well then I’ll take you to outer space and stop you there, because there’s no way that I’m not going to stop you. I cannot and will not go to a hospital.”

Lance gave an exasperated sigh. Then he took a finger and placed it on Keith’s chest. Keith blinked. What.

“I’m going to touch you.”

Keith was acutely aware of how weird that would sound out of context. Of how weird that sounded even in context. Lance must’ve noticed the look on his face because he rolled his eyes and groaned.

“What I mean is, if you wince more than ten times as I poke you, then I’m taking you to the hospital. Does that sound reasonable enough?”

Keith swallowed. Yes it was reasonable, and the fact that Keith knew that he was going to fail this test only further proved that he probably did need to go to the hospital.

“Fine.”

And so Lance’s finger began to travel down Keith’s skin, tracing the bruises. His skin tingled under the touch, and he would’ve been extremely embarrassed if not for the pain.

He winced when Lance touched the area by his ribs. Dang, maybe they really were fractured. He winced again when Lance’s finger brushed by a black bruise on his waist. And again as his hand ran over the burns on his arm. And again, and again, and again.

“That’s six. I’m not going to touch your back but I think you and I both know what would happen if I did.”

Keith frowned and sighed for about the hundredth time.

“I can’t go to the hospital Lance. They’re going to ask how I got all these bruises. No, they won’t even have to ask, because it’s obvious. I’ll get my parents in trouble.”

Confusion was evident on Lance’s face. “Well they deserve to be in trouble!”

“I guess, yeah, but I just don’t want to have to move again. Some of these scars aren’t even from this family, they’re from previous foster families. It can’t get much better than this Lance. If I just wait it out…” said Keith, his voice catching in his throat. “There’s only three years to go until I’m 18. If I just wait three years…it’ll be okay.”

Lance’s mouth opened slightly.

“W-w-wait, they aren’t even your biological parents? Why are you still putting up with this? How can this be worth it? I don’t understand you at all!”

Keith was so tired of this.

“Of course you don’t understand,” he snapped, unable to rein back his temper any longer. “How can you possibly understand what I’ve gone through? You have everything you could possibly need. Everything I ever wanted, and everything that I’ll never have. You will never understand.”

The look on Lance’s face was heartbreaking. If Keith could take back his words, he would.

He sighed, and ran his hands through his black hair, trying to calm himself down. He knew Lance just wanted to help. “It’s just, I’m the one who doesn’t understand. You don’t even know me. Why does it matter so much?”

“Oh my god! Oh my god! How many times do I have to say this?” exclaimed Lance, exploding, a crazed look in his eyes as he threw his hands up in the air.

Then he leaned in and then they were kissing. Well wasn’t today just full of firsts. It was warm and soft and quick, but Keith was too shocked to really feel anything or be lost in the moment. Their eyes were both wide open, staring at each other as their lips mushed together, and it was like that that they remained when Lance pulled away.

“Do you get it now?” he rasped, breathless. “I care about you.”

And all Keith could do was nod. He got it.

-

At some point, Keith passed out. He couldn’t really remember when or how it happened. It was only about time, was what one of the people in the ambulance said. At least, that’s what he thought he heard. He couldn’t really tell if it was reality or his mind as he slipped in and out of consciousness.

-

The next time he was really awake, he found himself in a white room. Bright lights glowed above him. There was the sound of beeping next to him, in synch with the sound of his heart beating. He looked down at his arm. Band-Aids, cotton, needles, tubes, stuck to his arm. He was in a bed.
When he tried to move, he found that he couldn’t, for two reasons. The first reason was that there was a cast or tape like thing wrapped around his ribcage that restricted his movement. At least he was right about the rib thing.

The second reason, was that his hand was stuck under something. Clarification. Someone. There he was, dozing away in a chair, with his head lying on Keith’s hand. Lance.

Keith tried to slip his hand out from under Lance’s face without disturbing him, but Lance woke with a start, eyes snapping open.

“Keith.”

“Lance.”

“Keith.”

“Lance. What happened?”

And as it turns out, when he was admitted to the hospital, Lance explained a few things to the police officers who were questioning him, and his foster parents ended up being arrested.

He was glad, yet at the same time devastated. He’d met this boy who was so kind. Who actually cared about him. Really cared. And now that he’d lost his foster family, he knew he’d undoubtedly have to move away. He’d have to start all over again, in an unfamiliar house, an unfamiliar school, full of unfamiliar people. Cruel people. The thought made him feel cold, so cold.

“Hey I know what you’re thinking,” said Lance suddenly.

Keith looked at him confusedly.

“Look, there’s this one couple who’s really nice, and they’re willing to adopt you!”

Oh man, was Keith hearing things now?

“I’m actually good friends with them, and the girl is quite the looker,” he continued, with a wink.

Keith glared at him.

“Anyways, Shiro, the guy, is like 25, and Allura is 27, and they heard about what happened to you, and wanted to help. You don’t have to worry about anything because they are super nice, I swear.” And as if that wasn’t enough, he added, “And we’ll be neighbors! They’re both really talented and they’ve got loads of money, so you don’t have to worry about that either.”

“Really?” he whispered.

It was too good to be true. Nothing ever went his way, and there was no way that this was as good at it sounded. No way.

“Yes. This is real, it’s happening, and I’m going to turn your life upside-down.”

-

TWO MONTHS LATER:

Keith was sitting on the floor, back leaning against the wall, reading a book. Lance was sitting on the opposite side of the room, also reading. It was then, that Lance confessed.

“You know, I lied to you that day.”

Keith knew exactly what he was talking about. There was only one time that Lance had ever really lied to him.

“I didn’t come up onto the roof because I was trying to save you. I came up to the roof because of me. I was thinking the same thing as you. I wanted to jump.”

Keith dropped his book.

“And I know that you think I saved you, but I think we kind of saved each other. Like, seeing you, and then convincing you not to do it, it made me realize that there was more to life. And life can be pretty great if you manage to stick around long enough to see.”

Lance looked directly at him, and Keith couldn’t help but smile because though he never thought he would, he understood exactly what Lance was talking about. Lance slid across the floor towards Keith, and pulled him into a hug. Keith hugged him back, wrapping his arms tightly around Lance. It felt warm, it felt nice, and Keith knew what this feeling was now. It was joy. It was love.

Only three more years to go until he was 18 years old, and Keith was going to enjoy every single goddamn second of it.