Chapter Text
He didn’t mean to brush his hand against the side of Lance’s jacket, nor to feel the bulk that seemed to be hidden in the intern side of the blue cloth, nor to see a flash of black in the shape of a hand-hold with a trigger.
But he did. And he couldn’t help but yelp.
He didn’t realize how badly he fucked up until the look of anger flashed through Lances face. The brunette pulled away from his reach like Hunk was a big mass of very dangerous acid, yanking himself and then he sprinted to the door of the pub, pushing the noisy people that heard Hunk’s yelp brutally away.
He stood still, his head not quite understanding everything that was happening. Pidge had her eyes blown wide open, mouth agape as she looked in the direction Lance sprinted without a clue of what to do. Not even Shiro, mature, wise, dad-level-of-calm Shiro knew how to react. Keith had his hands tightened into fists as he stared in the same direction of Pidge, looking the most shocked Hunk ever saw him before in his life.
He had been preparing himself for that moment for years. Ten years, to be exact. He had imagined every possible scenario for when he met Lance again. Bumping into him in the street, catching a glimpse of his hair in a hair salon, of hearing him laughing flirtily at some pretty looking cashier at any store close by. In his head, the conversation would always go through the same path: Hunk angry-yelling at Lance for erasing himself from his life, after years of seemingly endless friendship. Hunk shaking him by the shoulders and giving him a piece of his mind while making sure the other would know what he missed for all of those years. It was always Hunk releasing his pent-up anger at him until they cried it all out to become best pals again.
But after seeing Lance for the first time in years, hidden in such a place, looking both the exact same and completely different at the same time, Hunk could not risk it. Regaining a friend back was a dance on thin ice and although the others were amazing friends, he had never found anyone to replace Lance’s place.
And then all Keith was putting Lance on the spotlight. Accusing look and grinding teeth. And then Lance was standing to leave after a half hour of looking uncomfortable, and then…
Dark eyes, low voice in a threatening tone.
Let go.
They all became suddenly aware that the whole pub was staring at them, accusatory gazes falling upon them as they were criminals, and not even the smiley bartender seemed unaffected by the general prejudice everyone was directing towards them.
Pidge and Shiro were quick to stand up, beers forgotten as the four of them made their way out of the pub, the burning gazes in their heads.
They didn’t stop walking hurriedly until the red neon sign of the pub was ten feets away from them, the chilly air of the night punching their faces like water to an asleep person.
Keith was the first to speak. “What the fuck-“
But he cut himself off. What could he possibly say? Nothing of what just happened made any sense. Had Lance been carrying a gun? He certainly hadn’t seen it. Maybe Hunk was wrong. Maybe he had thought he’d seen a gun, and all of that was just a big misunderstanding. Een the fact that Lance McClain, the guy who went to high school with them, had been in the exact same trashy bar as they had been in was just insane. Maybe that wasn’t even Lance. Maybe they were all drunk and tired.
But they barely had a beer if any, and even if Lance did have a gun, was it really so terrible? Everyone inside that bar seemed dangerous. Keith could bet his ass that there were at least two drug dealers in there. A lot of junkies to. (Was Lance a drug addict?)
They continued walking, each breath making their chests lighter as they went far away from the bar.
They were at least five blocks away from the pub when their slow steps reached a big, trash-filled communal trash box and a refined, soft toned voice interrupted their silent walking. “This is why I should have been the one to be on the stake-out position. Your childish demeanour has yet again jeopardized our operation-“
The british accent was quickly cut off by another voice, tone low, grunting and familiar. “Your little prince platinum hair would never be caught dead in a place like that, asshole. They would’ve suspected of you the moment you got there!”
“At least I would have caught the man, by any means, alive!” the british guy was shouting now. “Committing to murder was supposed to be our last resource!”
“I wouldn’t have used our last resource if your fancy ass would have been on the lookout the way you were supposed to!”
After sitting in the same classroom with Lance, who talked with twice the volume of a normal person, for years, they could have recognized his voice anywhere, and that was definitely him.
Pidge stepped towards the voices in the alley before Keith could stop her, the small figure advancing in the dark until the rest followed her: like a movie scene, there was a light post that painted white the fallen figure of a man, probably in his forties, laying flat and unmoving on the floor. There was a slash in his neck, deep wound that continued to bleed like a pressured pipe. Standing in the left in front of Pidge was a man they had never seen before; tall as Shiro, but with delicate, long facial features. His skin was pale and homogenous under the light, framed by silvery, long, straight hair. He looked like the protagonist of a fairytale, or Legolas, from The Lord of The Rings. Yet he was angrily staring at Lance.
Lance, who was wearing the same unzipped hoodie, but that now had his whole tanned face splashed with speckles of blood. A colour that also painted his hands and the side of his torso in the most terrifying way possible.
“L-Lance?” Pidge stuttered, her frame walking into the light with tight fists.
The two set of eyes in front of them flied to her. The unknown man with silvery hair looked confused at her, but Lance’s face turned into an ugly frown.
There was no sugar-coating for their minds anymore. Blood pooled under the fallen man’s body, around his neck split open, and Lance’s right hand was not only the most bloodied one, but it was also the one holding a knife.
They stood there, stunned. The image in their view wasn’t one that could connect with their memory of Lance. Especially not when happy, carefree, trust-inviting Lance was right there, a couple of inches taller and buffer, with blood all over him and looking at them with one unsaid message their feet could not act on. Leave.
“Who are you?” The guy next to Lance said, caution and fake courtesy slipping into his façade. Slightly behind him, Lance moved his head to the sides in a clear “no” motion, eyes now sharp and dangerous.
“Lance?” Pidge either ignored Lotor and Lance’s look or just was too astonished to notice. Lance’s face grew darker, but the guy’s compliancy went dim as confusion took over his features.
“May I know your name, miss?” The guy insisted.
“La-“ she was cut off.
“Nothing’s going on here, folks. Turn around.” Despite his disinterested tone, the warning was clear in Lance’s tone. Suddenly, the atmosphere was tense.
“Pidge,” Shiro spoke behind her, hand falling on her shoulder to lead her away. “We should go.”
‘Yeah, we should’. Keith thought, fingers twitching with anticipation.
“Lance.” Pidge ignored the stranger and shook off Shiro’s grip on her shoulder, body trembling yet straightening up, like arming herself with courage, a determinate look on her frowning eyes. “What the Hell is going on.”
The angry look took over Lance’s face completely, and at the same time, the guy was turning around to look at him with the same confusion and just a bit of amusement.
“Lance?” The name rolled of his tongue like a question. Hadn’t they been yelling at each other just before that? The guy raised his eyebrows with mockery. “You know these people?”
“No.” he said, the statement strong and loud and hurtful.
“Yes.” Hunk’s voice surprised them, as he started looking between scared and upset. “We went to high school together. Pidge is right, what is going on?”
“Did you just murder someone?” Pidge shot up, trembling again. “We have to call the police!”
“Lance, man, what did you do?” Hunk was starting to sound stressed. “T-This is a crime! A crime scene!
“Guys!” Shiro yelled, taking steps ahead of Hunk and Pidge. “I think this is just a big misunderstanding.” He said, turning to look back at the two with a hard glare, then back at Lance and the guy. “We were just passing by, we didn’t see anything. I think we’ll head home now.”
He turned back, gripping Hunk’s and Pidge’s arm strongly and he started walking back to the main road, Keith following immediately.
“No.” The guy said behind them. “The big guy’s right.This is a crime scene, we should go to the police.
“We?” Keith spoke up for the first time, face unreadable with furrowed brows.
“Yes, we.” The guy said, tone flicking back to the fake courtesy it had before. “You are witnesses, and this is a crime scene. We ought to report the incident to the police.”
Lance was still standing on the same place as before, gaze hidden as he had his head lowered, staring at the ground.
“The incident?” Keith spoke again, tension rising up at the stranger smiley face. “What exactly happened, huh?”
The sarcasm didn’t seem to faze the guy, as his smile only grew. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll tell you all about it.” He turned around. “Leandro, if you’d be so kind.”
He was looking at Lance, who raised his head. As he did, his face revealed to be void of any emotion other than concentration, and he lifted his right hand.
At first, they thought he was just pointing at them, but the dark barrel of a gun was held tightly in his hand, and it was pointing directly at the closest one of them; Shiro.
Keith’s shout got stuck in his throat as the loud bang! Sounded in the air and Shiro’s form in front of them fell limp to the ground. Then another bang and Pidge fell. Then Hunk.
His curse didn’t leave his lips as he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder and his vision clouded with his last glare being Lance; happy and goody Lance looking glum as he raised the gun, pointing directly at him with a frown and tight lips.
Then, he passed out.