Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I just don’t get why they wouldn’t form the big robot as soon as the fight started?” Allura said, laughing and trying not to accidentally spread paint on to her canvas.

“It’s not that simple!” Lance splattered a blob of pink onto the lake he was painting after gesticulating wildly to defend the honor of the Power Rangers tv show.

“It’s really about friendship and working together to solve problems and looking at the bigger picture!” Lance’s paintbrush was flicking paint all across his landscape now.

"But that doesn't explain why they can't work together while inside the protection of a giant robot,"

"That's just not how it works!" Another blob jumped from Lance's brush to his once-calm lake. This week's assignment for class was water. Allura was working on a huge canvas spanning ocean storm. Lance had gone for a little lake with a cute boat.

“Lance if you don’t stop you’re going to end up turning in a flower field instead of a lake scene,” Allura’s voice flitted through to Lance’s ears.

The bright overheads of the studio didn’t do the glow in her eyes justice. If Lance wanted an impossible task, he could try to paint her, but that would be like trapping a butterfly in a glass jar. She couldn’t be defined by two dimensions, it would be an insult to the way her light hair bounced when she laughed or how she stuck her tongue out just so when she got stuck on a particularly hard bit of painting. 

“It’s fine, the lake needed waterlilies,” Lance replied, a drop of paint plopping onto the boat he had spent the last day and a half on. “But it’s truly one of the most underappreciated pieces of art of the modern century, right up there with Andy Warhol’s soup cans and the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.”

“Alright, Lance,” Allura laughed. “you should ask if we can cover it next week in Shiro’s class.”

“Well, what am I paying to go to this school for if we don’t talk about real art-” Lance’s sentence was cut off by a sharp cold cough. He must just have a bit of a dry throat and moved to grab his cup of water, clearly marked NOT PAINT WATER. 

“Are you all right Lance?” Allura had stopped painting and turned to Lance who was doubled over in a coughing fit.

He tried to force through a sentence, “I’m fi-”, but another forceful cough threw him off and his hand right against the mug of water, knocking it from the table.

The mug crashed the ground smashing into tiny ceramic bits all across the studio floor. Water began pooling around Lance’s workstation, as more and more coughs were ramming their way up Lance’s throat, disturbing the dull murmur that had once filled the room. Lance was suddenly aware he was making a scene, with classmates turning towards the ruckus.

Lance felt very sick and could feel something crawling back up his throat; probably his masterful breakfast of a stale strawberry pop tart and orange juice, which would’ve earned a full face scowl if Hunk had seen it. But then again, Hunk would drop dead if he saw what Lance had for breakfast on a bad day. 

Lance stumbled off his stool amidst a chorus of harsh rasps.

“baThrOom..” he squeaked out towards his teacher before stumbling out of the art studio and into the quiet hallway.

The only sound was the rough abrasive hacks in the empty hall, as Lance’s long limbs were tripping over themselves trying to make it to the bathroom. He busted through the door to the Men’s room, luckily he was the only one in there.

Lance draped himself atop a retro sink probably leftover from the 70’s and gripped the sides to keep him up. His eyes were watering now and he tried to turn on the tap, hoping some cold water would alieve him.

The water rushed out and he cupped a hand to bring it to his mouth. It was at that exact moment the dam broke loose.

Expelled from Lance’s mouth was not his breakfast, however, but when he looked down he noticed a crumpled pink and white daffodil resting in his palm.

Um i am in a dream? Or high? Or having one of those artist inspirational moments when I suddenly realize the world is like beautiful or something and return to my normal life with a new sense of passion and purpose? Or am I just going insane from college stress?

Yeah let’s go with that last one

But then Lance felt something else climbing up his throat and placed his head back over the sink.

Another coughing fit took hold and the same feeling of his lungs constricting, as Lance tried desperately to catch his breath.

The daffodil fell to the center of the sink and was joined by- more ?

Daffodils and scattered leaves were erupting out of Lance.

Uh… this isn’t like my normal stress delusions

The coughing fit began to taper off and left Lance with a new thick layer of sweat.

He was staring down at a once empty sink that was now brimming with dainty pink and white flowers, bits of leaves and twigs, and even more worryingly, a bit of blood.

I’m going insane.

I should call my mom.

With shaking hands Lance pulled out his phone and dialed his mom, and sunk against the wall of the bathroom. She knew everything and she would know what to do. Hopefully, no totally, like no doubt. This was fine, it was going to be fine.

“Mamá?” Lance’s voice was raspy and thick.

“Mijo! ¿Cómo estás? ¿Cómo están Hunk y Pidge? ¿Has hablado con la chica bonita de la que me hablaste? ” Lance realized he should call his mom more because as soon as her voice came on the line he felt relieved.

“No, um, mamá, I think I’m sick”

“Sick? Did you take something? Are you okay? Should I call Hunk to pick you up? Are you at a party??”

“No, no mom, it’s like 11 in the morning, I'm not at a party,” Lance sighed, how the hell do I say I’m going insane and cutting off my ear is starting to sound like a good idea. “I’m throwing up… but it’s not like normal?”

“Not normal? How do you mean?” Damn it, Lance didn’t know what to say and he worrying his mom now. She doesn’t deserve whatever art-induced mental breakdown he was having.

“Um it’s like I was in class and I was coughing but it came from nowhere and now I’m sweaty and um..”

“Conejito, you’re probably just dehydrated and not taking care of yourself well. You need to eat better. You should ask Hunk to show you, I’m sure he’s learning many great recipes in his classes,”

“Uh yeah mom, that’s….. yeah that’s probably what it is.” yeah sure

“You should go back to your dorm and rest, drink some water mijo and relax. You stress yourself out too much. You get so caught up in one thing and forget to think about yourself and I don't like it ”

“I know I'm sorry, gracias mamá, I just got a little freaked out but yeah I’ll go back to my room and relax,” It’s probably just dehydration, or bad eating or that old sushi that Pidge dared me to eat. Calm down, you're mom is probably right.

“Okay conejito, I have to go, your niece and nephew discovered the chickens in Senor Velasquez's yard,” His mom paused, waiting for Lance to add anything more, but he didn’t “Te quiero, and I always will mijo, adiós.”

“Adiós mamá,”

The call ended and Lance was left in the bathroom with a bouquet of bloody flowers in the sink.

Chapter Text

After cleaning up the mess, Lance waited until he heard students leaving the hall before sneaking back into the studio. The fewer people he had to talk to after his outbreak in class, the better.

The room was empty as far as he could tell when he came in. It was Friday so most students wanted to get out as soon as they were allowed.

Perfect I can clean up my mug and grab my stuff, go home and freak out, and yell at Pidge because the sushi argument is making more and more sense

Lance looked all around his workspace, but someone had already cleaned up the mug of water that he had spilled. Slightly puzzled, he started gathering up his brushes and cleaning down his area.

He finally got a good look at what he had done to his canvas, There were pink splatters all across his lake. A problem he was going to have to fix, but not the most important one at the moment. He peeked over at Allura’s.

Wow

It was-- well, it was amazing.

There were huge blundering clouds that danced to their own terrific rhythm through the paint, dousing the ocean underneath with water. It was the warring of two opposite forms, a dark overtone of rain against huge mountainous waves. Yet he still recalled earlier that she “had a lot more to do”.

Whatever could she possibly add to make it better?

Lance took another look at his lake and sighed, whoever let him into this prestigious art school should be fired, clearly they were drinking on the job.

But her, she deserved to be here, she could outshine everyone here in her sleep

He grabbed up all of his stuff with a light cough, grabbed his coat and left the dark studio.

The colder spring air was welcomed after being inside a stuffy studio all day. It was just getting dark and the campus was pretty empty.

Lance popped in his earbuds, and hopped onto his hand-me-down bike from his older brother, and headed towards his apartment on campus.

ABBA started blasting at probably an unhealthy level of volume through his earbuds. What could he say-- Lance loved Mamma Mia to a level akin to a 47-year-old wine mom with two kids. It took him to that calm dream of the Greek shores, a drink in hand, letting Lance be whoever he wanted to be.

The sidewalks that were starting to light up with the familiar glow of antique lights. With the snow finally melting, it was almost pretty again.

There were tons of buildings Lance had to pass by before getting to his student housing apartment. Each one of them covered in ivy that had been growing since the university’s inception, tall and imposing, they looked judgingly down at the students who dared to enter them. The plants are the buildings were entwined in a way that suggested the bricks had grown from the ground and were just as much alive as the trees. One day they sprouted up and have granted worthy students access ever since.

Then how did you get in

Woah that was dark, I mean my painting isn’t great, but it's good

He thought back to Allura’s storm on the ocean. He had painted a rowboat. She had painted a masterpiece.

Okay so not that good

Lance let the soulful sounds of ABBA take up the space in his brain where thoughts should be. After today, he just wanted to turn off his consciousness and let disco music play instead.

He didn't want to think about the flowers in the sink. He didn’t want to think about how he was totally going insane. He didn’t want to think about how he completely embarrassed himself in front of Allura and his whole class.

The sunset was a romantic orange that rang through the leafless trees. Spring was coming, but it sure was taking its goddamn time.

He passed a couple of groups of friends happily joking on the grass about whatever. Maybe that was what made the campus beautiful in the springtime, people finally came out of their dorms and had adventures again.

Soon it would be time to go on crazy weekend trips with Hunk and Pidge, leaving their schoolwork and stress behind for even just a little while.

Maybe they could go to Greece. He didn’t know how, because Greece wasn’t a metro stop, but they could find a way to make it work. Pidge could hack the airline’s website or Hunk could bribe them with food and his charm. Then they could all re-enact Mamma Mia, and even the sequel if there was time!

Dancing, singing, acting on impulses with Meryl Streep and my friends, everything making sense because it’s a part of a story. Then Lance could come back and wow Allura with tales of adventure in picturesque Greece-- wait… crap! Hunk and Pidge wanted to come over tonight!

They were going to play Wii Sports Bowling and if Lance canceled he’d look like he was scared to lose to Hunk again; which wasn’t fair because the last time Hunk only won because Lance had to use the controller with the bad batteries and Hunk was too scared for a rematch then and if Lance didn’t show him up tonight then Hunk was always going to think that he was better at Wii Sports Bowling which isn’t true because Lance is the KING of Wii Sports Bowling.

Maybe I should cancel though, I don’t want them to get sick and or insane? Can insaneness be contagious? And would it help my chances of winning if they caught the disease too? No no no that’s not right, if I want the Wii Sports Bowling championship trophy to mean anything I have to win it with my own skills.

He had reached his destination by the time he agreed that winning the Wii Sports Bowling trophy wasn’t something he could postpone until he felt better, besides he didn’t want to ruin his friends’ plans with his own problems. And if he happened to cough and bump into Hunk right when he was lining up his swing for the tie-breaking bowl, well then that would just be fate stepping in to prove that Lance was the superior bowler.

He reached his apartment and stowed his bike in the rack. It was an old building, (what a surprise compared to everything else on the campus) and always had a slight draft. There was snow covering the cracking roof, so you couldn’t tell that it was in much worse condition than it appeared. But hey, home was home, maybe not the ranch Lance had been used to, but he was really experiencing the starving part of artist.

It was on the edge of campus, lonely except for a set of hardy shrubbery and thick bushes. They were his only neighbors so at least Lance didn’t have to worry about noise complaints. They were stubbornly lively and still grew after the occasional drunk vomit. It was a polite coexistence, except for now when plants were the last thing Lance wanted to be around.

His cool hands met the familiar lock with his keys and opened into the familiar house.

The air in his apartment was tepid and stagnant. He flicked on the lights and noticed the mound of clothing on his coffee table. He should probably shove that somewhere before his friends came over. Probably, but he also shouldn’t pretend to be someone he isn’t to his friends. They signed on for a messy living room when they planned to have bowling night here.

He kicked off his shoes, threw his coat onto a chair or something, placed his art stuff on a crowded counter, and plopped down into his sofa, absorbed by the numerous pillows, which no he did not have an addiction to, thank you very much Pidge.

Lance pulled out his phone and texted that Bowling Night was still in fact on and that Hunk should absolutely prepare to lose.

He threw his phone down somewhere, yawned and turned onto his side.

Coughing up plants was shockingly exhausting, who would’ve thought?

I just need to win this bowling game and then I can sleep this momentary insanity off. And it has to be momentary because it was going to severely hinder his art abilities before they’re fully realized. And he couldn’t have his art career end before he famous enough to have his work on notebooks and cheap flip flops.

Doesn’t matter, your art sucks.

Lance sighed, he really didn’t need self-doubt and disease tonight.

His eyelids closed heavily and a soft dreamless sleep overtook him.

-------------------------------------------

There was a set of quick sharp rasps against the door, followed by a set of slower harder ones.

Hunk and Pidge were here.

Lance hadn’t planned on falling asleep. If he hadn’t, he might’ve maybe made an effort to move those clothes into his bedroom or something. Like probably would’ve, ...probably.

“Come in guys,” Lance shouted as he stretched from the comfort of his couch.

A flush of cold air warm came into the small apartment.

The room instantly gained volts of youthful from the three friends. It had only been a couple of days since seeing each other together, but they all bounced around like excited birds upon entering.

“I brought pizza rolls,” The short redhead called out excitedly. “and Gusher packets. I think the guy at the market thinks I’m actually twelve, so I can’t wait to try to buy alcohol there.”

Lance could hear her rustling through the cereal boxes and dishes left out on his counter, making room for the snacks. A small wrecking ball was clearly hitting his kitchen, but that was alright, Bowling Night didn’t need neatness.

“I don’t think that was going to work before you bought kids snacks there Pidge,” Lance replied, sinking back down into his pile of throw pillows. Pidge was super short, not something to be scoffed at though because she always gets her chicken nuggets half off when Hunk and Lance have to pay full price at their regular restaurants. “And you should just have Hunk grab some from the culinary cabinets-- that’s if he’s sober enough in class to do it.”

“You know that’s not what we do in my classes right?” The taller boy sighed lightly at Lance’s overused joke. He had taken his shoes off and was moving towards Lance, who had reclaimed his napping position on the couch. Hunk was Pidge’s physical opposite, but mentally they were the same. Sometimes Lance felt he was hanging out with two calculators, very nice calculators that he loved, but they still talked about math too much.

“I’m not sure if you remember what you do in your classes Hunk,” murmured a lump from underneath throw pillows.

“You are so getting beaten in bowling tonight,” Hunk replied grabbed a throw pillow and started whacking Lance with it. “Get up and prepare to lose!”

“Boys, boys please, I know you think you have the competition cornered, but I’ve been honing my skills for this night,” Pidge said from behind a pile of dishes.

“Sorry, Pidge but how can you bowl if you’re stuck in the kitchen preparing my future victory feast?” Lance joked while fighting off Hunk’s pillow fight advances with a throw pillow of his own.

“I’m lacing the pizza rolls with laxatives so you’ll be in the bathroom while I swoop in and steal the competition.”

“Did you preheat the oven to the right temperature Pidge? Because a pizza roll with a cold center is unforgivable,” Hunk said and dodged Lance as he began viciously hurling aesthetically pleasing decorative pillows.

“Yes, I preheated it correctly mother,” Pidge said and Lance heard something fall from his counter.

“Are you sure? Because I will not have a subpar pizza roll,” Distracted momentarily Lance hit Hunk squarely in the face with a tasteful kitten playing with yarn embroidered pillow. The sound of more metal somethings dropping to the floor drafted in from the tiny kitchen space.

“As pleasant as that cacophony of you dropping things in my kitchen is, I propose a pillow ceasefire so I can put on some music,” Lance said, bringing his hands to into the air and dropping his pillow.

“Fine,” Hunk said, lowering his arm to the side, “But make sure it’s something good.”

“You’re just going to put on Shakira’s top ten hits!”

“Well, they’re top ten for a reason Pidge!” Lance yelled back.

Lance grabbed his phone and put on “lAnCee haS verY GooOD mUsIc TaSTe”. The other two groaned as Lance started dancing around like an octopus with six extra legs.

“I’m coming to check because I’m worried about the state of our rolls now,” Hunk threw the kitten pillow back a Lance laughingly and started towards the kitchen. It hit Lance in the chest and he dramatically fell back onto the couch.

“Agh, killed by my own best friend, the betrayal ,” Lance croaked out.

“I had to do it to secure the bowling trophy, my dude,” Hunk called out, then murmuring something about “terrible pizza roll making etiquette” to Pidge.

“That’s fair,”

“Corpses can’t talk Lance,” Pidge said, sitting on the counter, watching Hunk take over the cooking.

“That’s corps-ist--” Lance said hugging the pillow Hunk threw at him.

“Ahhh what did you do to these pizza rolls Pidge!?!”

“Nothing! They’re fine!” Pidge exclaimed.

“You can’t put Gushers in pizza rolls!” Hunk looked like steam was going to come from his ears.

Lance laughed heartily, feeling warm for the first time today.

-------------------------------------------

Pidge really had been telling the truth about practicing. Hunk and Lance sat amazed on the tiny grey sofa, watching Pidge bowl strike after strike.

“And that’s just how it’s done, boys,” Pidge said as she finished her round with a strike.

Hunk’s gusher-free pizza roll fell from his mouth looking at the near-perfect 890 score.

“This isn’t fair! There must be steroids in these Gushers!” Lance shouted out in disbelief and shock. This was an unprecedented event in Wii Sports Bowling History!

“You ate them too Lance, so why didn’t you get better?” Pidge replied coolly.

This little gremlin must have hacked our game!!

“Ack I’m wounded from that one! But how’d you do that?1?” Lance said.

“You hacked the game didn’t you??” Hunk said.

“No, I only use my hacking powers for good, but my bowling powers, however, were completely born to crush you fools,” Pidge looked devilishly proud. With the dark window behind her, illuminating her shadow, making her look more and more demonic than ever.

“Boooooo!!” Hunk and Lance chanted in a low monotone.

“I can’t believe you sold your soul to beat us in bowling!” Lance said

“Rematch!” Hunk demanded.

“I don’t think so. How much better could I get if I’m already perfect?” Pidge collapsed laughing proudly onto the couch, squishing them all closer together than should be possible. They switched off the game and on some type of dancing competition that made good background noise. Unfortunately after the fourth One Direction song, Hunk and Pidge had requested that Lance not be allowed to play music anymore.

“Ugh so not fair,” Lance leaned over grabbing another pack of disgustingly sweet fruit flavored snacks.

On the TV were some crazy talented kids that were more successful than Lance.

Even kids are more talented than you

Okay well, when I develop an unfulfilled passion for dance then I’ll be offended by that.

“So how’s Shay, Hunk?” Lance said to break the settling silence between the three.

“She’s so amazing, every time I see her I think she gets prettier,” Hunk said passing a pop over to Pidge. His face was aglow teeling about the details of teaching his girlfriend how to make a perfect omelet. It contrasted to the ever-growing darkness outside, reminding Lance that soon his friends had to leave.

“Ew gross,” Pidge said, checking memes on her phone and grabbing blindly in the direction of Hunk.

“Love isn’t gross Pidge, it’s magical and enlightening and makes you wake up with a smile on your face because you get to see that special person, even if only for a second,” Lance said, shoving a handful of Gushers into his mouth.

“Yeah like you would know Lance,” Pidge said not looking up from her phone.

“Uh not fair, I made Allura laugh in class today, and I complimented her painting like a million times, because oh my god she is so good at art.” Lance had literal hearts in his eyes thinking back to the good parts of his day with Allura.

“Alright calm down loverboy, making someone laugh isn’t a marriage proposal,”

“Yeah I know but I think I’m getting somewhere, and who could resist my deep-tortured artist vibe?” Lance wildly posed in a way to accentuate his tortured-ness.

“Uh-huh, sure,” Pidge said only briefly looking up from her phone. The bright light was reflecting back in her glasses making her look quite alien-like. “You get many girls with that one?”

“All of them in fact.”

“Not Shay, sorry,” Hunk said, “She’s too classy for you Lance.”

“I’m the epitome of class,” Lance responded, feigning offense at Hunk’s scandalous accusation.

“Classy enough for Allura even?” Pidge asked teasingly.

“I mean I hope, I really like her, like really, I mean she’s so magical, and talented, and pretty, and sweet, and nice, and smart--”

“Okay okay okay okay I get it, Lance, I can't stay here all night,” Pidge tried to climb over Lance’s continuing list of Allura’s fantastic attributes.

“Looks like it’s time for us to go Pidge, he’s going to go on like this for a while,” Hunk said, checking his nonexistent watch and getting up from the cramped couch. Lance finished his list with a gentle sigh, the night had gone by so fast.

“Ew I don’t want to go outside, it’s cold,” Pidge said.

“Well you could sleep on Lance’s floor tonight,” Hunk said.

“I shockingly do not want to do that and catch numerous rare diseases,”

“Hey it’s not thaaaat bad, I mean it’s not like good, but I’m sure you’d only catch ten diseases at most,” Lance defended his floor. It wasn’t warranted because after tonight he couldn’t see what color his carpet was.

“With that reassurance, I’ll take my chances with the cold,” She said, leaping up from the couch.

“Do you want us to help clean up the pizza roll mess,” Hunk gestured to the multiple pans covered in pizza roll innards and mashed up Gushers.

“Nah, it’s a tomorrow problem but I hope you learned your lesson,” Lance pointed at Pidge from the couch.

“No, my brain capacity is too full of bowling expertise to absorb anything new,” She said grabbing her coat and shoes, and Hunk following suit.

That goddamn shit-eating grinning gremlin bowling hacking no good ginger-

“You mean cheat codes to the game?” Hunk shot back.

“You can’t even cheat in Wii Sports!”

“Well, obviously you found a way!” Hunk said.

“Oh bye Lance,” Hunk yelled followed by Pidge’s “Bye bye Loverboy!”

“Bye guys,” Lance smiled as they closed the door.

The two friends’ playful bickering softened through the wall and Lance waved to them through the window, but they didn’t see, too absorbed in their joking and arguing. They melted into the night and Lance lingered on where their shadows had just been.

Lance loved these nights, some dumb activities, some good people and some bad food. He had a huge mess to clean up for sure, but that was tomorrow’s problem.

Why had I wanted to cancel in the first place?

Then right on queue, an overpowering cough rattled through his body.

He struggled to stand up, tripping over clothes and cushions, staggering to the bathroom.

He quickly shut the door behind him and found himself in front of the sink again.

He turned on the faucet to drown out the sound of his lungs crashing against his ribs.

Daffodils erupting from his mouth and into the sink, the water turning a dulled red from the blood that was also coming out. It was a mess. There were leaves and petals everywhere. More and more flowers kept coming out and didn’t show any sign of stopping. Tear peppered Lance’s eyes as flower after flower with thrown viciously from Lance’s body to the sink. Plants were ripping up his throat to crawl out into the open. And it seemed to just grow and grow. Lance was aching and thirsty for breath.

Maybe I finally went insane

Maybe I going to die

Maybe I’m already dead

Then it was over. The flowers stopped. Lance’s hands were shaking and gripping the sides of the sink, his lungs grasping at every small breath that came through. Tears were rolling down his cheeks.

His arms on the sink basin were the only things keeping him upright. The tears were hot and heavy, coming down more rapidly than before.

It was like throwing up as a kid, feeling as helpless as your body acted however it did without you being able to stop it. Then you just start crying afterwards because you don’t know what’s happening and you’re scared so you run to your mom and she holds you and calms you, wiping your tears and telling you that you’re okay.

But Lance’s mom wasn’t here now.

He looked up at the pitiful reflection in front of him.

No one was here to hold him and calm him. He didn’t deserve it, this was just the universe finally righting the wrong that was letting Lance think he was okay. Because he is not and he never will be.

Tear stained cheeks, blood on his lips, red eyes and a runny nose. This was not a person. This was a mess, he thought.

Would Allura love this? Yeah real classy.

No, no, no

This isn’t who I am. This is just a disease, a momentary insanity, a freakout, just the flu delirium

Whatever it was, it had to stop. It was hurting and it wasn’t normal.

I need sleep

Lance treaded back to his couch, not feeling enough energy to get to his bed. He looked at his phone on the ground.

He could call someone, his mom, Hunk, Pidge, or even Allura. But why would they care. It’d be like calling Meryl Streep.

Ha, Meryl Streep, I like her in that movie about the… the thing in that place… with the sun… Allura likes the sun… I like the sun… it’s warm… I’m cold

Lance’s eyelids drooped downward uncomfortably as he fell asleep listening to the murmur of the television.

-------------------------------------------

At 2:57 in the morning Lance woke up in a coat of sweat. He threw off his shirt, it was too hot. But then Lance was cold. He stumbled past his bathroom, through the mess on the floor. He started coughing, then coughing more, hacking, shoving air through his lungs then reaching desperately for it to come back.

Daffodils falling from his mouth, dropping unceremoniously to the ground.

Almost there

Lance stretched his hand in front of him as if that would let him get to his bed sooner.

Only a few more- cough- steps- cough

Flowers on the ground, on the couch, blood on the flowers on the ground, on the couch, in Lance’s lungs.

He reached his bed, dropping down on top of it, burying himself inside the covers and shivering all the way through.

His raspy breath rattled softly through the walls of the room, outside to the world where they were met with an uncaring night. The life still covered in the remaining winter snow. Soft flurries blanketed the earth, adding on another thin layer of frost, not enough to disturb the world, but just enough to blanket the sound. The sounds within the house were trapped, leaving only the harshest shrubs privy to their song in the night.

Chapter Text

Lance slept and then woke up. Then slept. Then woke up. And that disorienting schedule left him at 7:05 a.m. on a Saturday morning. He got up. Ate a dry bowl of cereal, cleaned up his bathroom, then threw up into the sink.

Throw up. Clean it up. Sleep. Throw up again. This was not great.

The sink had a pale pink stain from blood now. The trash was full of paper towels. And Lance was tired.

His head had turned onto a fuzzy static channel and only his automatic instincts seemed to work at the moment.

He cleaned up the sink again, cleaned up the rest of the blood and guts in his apartment, then found himself under four blankets on the couch, unsure of when he really got there.

When he woke up it was bright. Daylight was pouring in through the windows. The rest of the world had been awake for hours. He was also wearing a shirt he didn’t remember putting on.

The TV was on too. Had it always been on?

He tried to shift in his blanket cocoon but that was a mistake.

Every part of his body had a dull ache to it. And no matter which way he turned on the couch, he couldn’t manage to feel comfortable.

The blankets were abrasive and rubbing into his skin, but outside them was cold and oppressive. When had it gotten so cold here?

The sounds of the TV were too loud. Someone was learning about the benefits of a smoothie maker but it was not Lance. He was trying to reach for the remote but instead, hit against his phone.

Ugh, I have to interact with the world.

The covers were calling for him to come deeper. But in a sudden burst of energy Lance grabbed his phone and mustered enough strength to turn it on.

Fuck-- that’s bright

Lance desperately trying to turn down the brightness only to realize it already was as low as possible. He squinted trying to navigate through his notifications. A stormy migraine was picking up wind in the back of his head.

It was 2:30 pm. Too late for Lance to try to make anything of the day now. But he could check his texts. It gave the illusion that he was doing something productive.

A couple of groupchat messages, his sculpture class had been canceled for the week because the professor went on a last minute trip to Costa Rica to “find himself”, Hunk had started watching a new cooking competition show and Pidge was surprisingly enjoying it too (despite her being unable to boil water).

And one more text.

1 new text from: Mamá

Lying to his friends was one thing but some sort of biting conscience was struggling to deal with purposely keeping this from his mom.

He, unfortunately, clicked open. It was worse than he had expected.

Mamá : Hola mi conejito, how are you? feeling better, i hope. you should check your mail soon because i might’ve sent you some things from home to keep your spirits up while there’s still snow on the ground. call me when you see this, i want to hear for sure that you’re feeling better. forgive me mijo but i worry about you. i know you’re a big kid with lots of work and no time for your mother but it would make me feel better. te quiero!

I should tell her. I really should tell her. What’s the worst that’s going to happen?

She’ll realize how insane you are, you’ll get shipped off to an asylum and cost your family thousands in wasted tuition, not that art school was really a good use of it anyways.

You know what’s helpful? Not that.

Lance brought a pillow down on his face, trying to smother those dark thoughts.

I should call mom.

I should definitely call my mom.

I am going to call my mom.

Lance even got so far as to pull up her contact, a finger hovering over the call button. But it never hit the screen. He sighed and his hand dropped down.

What am I doing?

Like just in general. I’m here, the school of my dreams, piles of work to do, and I’m pitying myself on the couch.

I should call my mom.

But Lance did not press call, instead, he closed the contacts app and pulled up the internet instead.

He started typing, “throwing up flowers….”

No. That’s stupid.

“Flower stomach flu….”

No that’s not a thing.

“Flower related diseases….”

Yeah that was almost normal. Right?

Pages and pages of poison ivy cures, flower allergies, rashes, and various alternative medicine pages. So, nothing.

Lance bit his lip as if ripping the skin off of it would help him to think.

“Hallucinations caused by stress…”

Lance opened the first result. The words were wobbling a bit and that headache was growing, but something caught his eye.

“It’s quite common for the  general population to experience the passing hallucination,”

Wait common? Really? Am I not going insane?

Lance started clicking link after link, and his headache seemed to lull a little. He was not going insane. He was just stressed. He was fine, this was fine, and he wasn’t dying.

I’m going to be fine! And for real this time! I’ve had like forty assignments due this week. Of course, I’m seeing things. And these “flowers” only show up when no one else is around, so why would I ever think that they’re real in the first place? I’m normal!

It must be I just have stomach flu but the artist part of my brain is trying to make it deeper than it is. Well sorry to confuse your brain, but not everything is a beautiful metaphor, sometimes you just get sick.

If Lance wasn’t under a mountain of blankets he would stand up and cheer. He was normal. And he hadn’t even had a coughing episode in like-- what-- hours? He was getting over it. He really only needed rest, who would’ve thought?

He let out a little squeal of happiness and relief, then snuggling back into his space on the couch, quickly falling asleep again.

He might’ve dreamed of dancing in Greece or maybe in a flower field or maybe with Allura, but it was gone when he woke up. But the feeling of something soft and warm was there when he woke up.

The sun was setting as Lance opened his eyes upon his dark apartment. It was probably time to get up by now. But-- wait, he had fallen asleep for a couple of hours and not thrown up once? He was cured! Insanity over, time to get back to the real world.

He peeled himself up from the couch, splaying his limbs in different chaotic ways to wake up. Lance started cleaning up his temporary bed and something flopped to the floor. Swept up in the fervor of waking up from a deep nap, Lance didn’t even notice.

He did take note of the groaning his joints were making with every move and the dry rawness of his throat. His head felt like it was being propped up on a single thin stake, there was a soft droning in his ears, and his eyelids desperately wanted to shut again. But he was fine, cured even.

He peeked at the teal cat clock he had on the wall-- it had been a gift from Hunk that Lance may have repeatedly sent the link to “on accident”. It read around 7, so the entire day was gone.

Might as well soak in it now.

He headed to the kitchen, and shockingly it was a complete and utter mess. There were pizza roll bits and gusher juices covering every inch of the counter. Bowls in the sink, (more than Lance knew he had) and a slight smokey smell around the oven. He should send Pidge a bill for a maid.

So in the theme of not doing work today, Lance decided to go out and get dinner. Reasoning that you aren’t crazy is a cause for fast food celebration anyways.

Grabbing his coat and shoes, Lance hopped out of his apartment with a spring in his step that was muffled slightly by grogginess. He was awake in the sense that he understood that he was happy and hungry, but complex thoughts definitely weren’t happening right now. He knew McDonald's sounded great right now and that was all he needed to get on his bike.

He pedaled out onto the sidewalk in front of his little building. There was a soft hum of a world that was finally settling down for the night, being disturbed by a fast-food-hungry college student.

The air was still until Lance raced through to a  tune stuck in his head. Lance as roaming through his own subconscious not really sticking to any specific thought. He just felt easily good and calm, not normal for him.

Maybe like taking care of your body and listening to it when it hurts will like benefit your mood? Crazy.

The trees were still waiting for leaves to appear at the ends of their branches. Lance passed in front of a few small houses that housed graduate students. Lights from people inside crossed through thin curtains, becoming street lights for roaming brunettes in the nighttime. He fantasized a little about who was inside. Kids his age, all on completely different tracks of their life. They’re cooking for their significant other, setting up for a study group session, dancing with their roommate to bad songs, laughing with their friends. They were him in a thousand different stories, just not this one; in this story he was alone on his bike.

The sky was streaked orange over a darkened purple. His silhouette faded farther into the downtown skyscape. There wasn’t much and downtown was really a glorification of a couple of mom ‘n’ pop shops, a gas station, a Walmart, and (most importantly) an ancient McDonalds.

The sidewalks here turned into red brick paths, denouncing, but not deterring Lance on his quest. The little town was humming along to a soft tune from long ago, catering to the “nightlife” of the university. Students crammed into the pleather seats of the diners, ordering rounds of appetizers, chattering with their friends, sharing secrets over cheap burgers.

Lance passed by the couple of restaurants that students flood on the weekends. There was a pang of something in him as he passed the vintage ice creamery. There was a couple from his figures class at a table out front, sharing a strawberry milkshake and bantering in a way that lit up the air around them. A greeting for the two of them rested on the tip of Lance’s tongue, but it never came out.

But Lance whipped his head back to the sidewalk in front of him so he didn’t eat shit. He turned by the tiny flower shop with the pale green awning. A faded sign on the front door read “closed but please stop by us again soon!”.

The glow of waking up had flown off of Lance somewhere along his way because all of those other pesky emotions were creeping back into his head.

Like the growing unease about the projects he had to finish, curiosity about what his friends were doing, a longing for an amazing painter with white hair. Wait, no, not that one, not right now.

He biked into the McDonalds’ parking lot. Don’t let the chain naming fool you, it was just as old as the other stores in the downtown. They still had the charmingly uncomfortable retro plastic seats from the seventies, and there was a fading jukebox in the back corner. It didn’t work anymore but Lance could imagine whatever top 40’s song that came out of the overhead speakers was actually coming from the antique machine.

He hopped off his bike, threw it on to the rack and walked up to the neon-lit fast-food palace.

Ahhh the sweet smell of mass produced grease.

What should he get? The possibilities were endless but the decision was oh so important. This one choice would make or break this late night excursion.

There was a short line of different groups of students at varying levels of exhaustion. It was only about 8, so the students here were either ending their long day or pre-gaming for their long night. Lance guessed he was the latter-- but only planned on a long night of Netflix.

“Hi welcome to McDonald's, would you like to try our new Candy Cane Milkshake--”

“Nah I would love a Big Mac though, no pickles and a large fries,” Lance had weighed his options carefully, and went with a classic choice. That familiar greasy salty smell was drifting to Lance’s nose.

The peak of fine dining.

He paid and waited impatiently at the end of the counter, flicking around a bit of a straw wrapper-- when he heard it ; no, not it -- her .

That voice was imprinted on his brain. The way she sometimes said his name with an ‘o’ instead of ‘a’, the way her laugh floated above the air, on a cloud of its own.

He whipped his head around and surely enough, Allura was laughing with a blonde haired girl over a huge pile of fries.

Oh my god

Shit I should've put on deodorant before I left

Should I say hi? Does she see me? Should I hide in the bathroom? Should I run home?-- no, I need my Big Mac. Should I pretend to be a tourist who doesn’t speak English? I mean probably not but still an option

He was frozen, mulling over his options when her eyes caught his.

“Lonce!”

Well fuck me

“Hey Lance, over here!” Allura was waving her hands directly at him, so no chance to back out.

“Hey Allura!” He began walking with fake courage over to the two girls’ booth.

“Lance, I’m so glad that you’re feeling better!” Her hair bounced in her perfect ponytail.

“Oh yeah, totally,” Lance started rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “Uh- thanks for cleaning up my stuff too, you really didn’t have to do that.”

“Oh it was really no problem at all Lance, it’s what friends are for, isn’t that what they teach you on Power Rangers?” She laughed lightly at her own comparison. No way, she remembered that stupid conversation? “Speaking of friends, Lance, this is my friend Romelle.”

She had been paying attention to what he was saying about the stupid Power Rangers

He quickly realized he was staring just a bit too long, “Hey um, I’m Lance, I’m in a ton of Allura’s classes,” His voice rose a bit when he said Allura, and hopefully no one noticed.

She had been listening and then still cared enough afterwards to clean up his stuff?

“Romelle here is a photography major, so artsy like us but she doesn’t have to deal with paint in her hair at the end of the day,” Lance looked at the new girl. She was positively beaming, ( but Allura does have that effect on people ), and wearing a pale pink and yellow outfit. She almost looked younger than the other two, but she held herself in a naturally confident posture.

“That’s true, but I do have the terrible responsibility of listening to Allura complain about the paint in her hair at the end of the day,”

“I know she is such a drama queen sometimes,”

“Wow, someone who gets it!”

“Well do you want my seat so you guys can have the ‘Complain About Allura Club’ meeting in peace?” Allura’s cheeks were slightly pink from the teasing.

“Aw sweetheart, it’s only fun when you’re here anyways,” Romelle said.

Sweetheart? Huh? Is that how girls talk to each other?

Lance hung out with Pidge a lot but she only spoke in riddles of internet culture, so not the greatest sample.

Between the two girls was a huge order of french fries and it made Lance’s stomach grumble. They were also sharing some kind of milkshake, so he guessed they were pretty close friends.

“Have you started that drawing journal for figures class yet Lance? I keep forgetting and I’m totally going to end up doing it the night before,” Allura said, leaning towards him as she said it

“The star student Allura admitting to procrastinating, what year is it? Where am I?”

“I know she complains about being so stressed yet she is on her fifth rewatching of Parks and Rec,” Romelle added laughing.

“Wow, I didn’t realize I came to an intervention in this McDonalds today,” Allura jokingly put her hand to her chest like a scandalized 1920s socialite.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think any intervention could curb your procrastinating habits,” Romelle said.

“Ha-ha Romelle, but I know you finished your semester project the hour before it was due,” Allura accusingly waved a fry at Romelle, causing her to erupt in giggles.

Suddenly Lance didn’t feel like he was supposed to be there, like he was peering in the window to someone else’s house. There was something between them that Lance couldn’t quite put his finger on.

However, to spare his brain from strenuous thoughts to figure out, the cashier called out his order number.

“Oh that’s mine, I should probably let you guys go,” Lance said, edging his way out of the conversation he felt like he was a voyeur in.

“Aw so soon Lance?” Dammit. Her eyes. Even in the bright artificial fast food light.

“Oh no, please don’t leave me, she’s going to start complaining soon, I can sense it!” Allura threw a fry at Romelle, totally missing her.

“Sorry but I have a date with a Big Mac,” Lance said.

“Is that really the best choice if you’re feeling sick?” Does she care? Like about me?

“Haven’t you heard of the great benefits of McDonald's food? They say it’s what Olympians eat,”

“Really, I haven’t heard that one yet,”

“It’s backed by many very real very reputable sources,”

“Oh yeah, I think I read that somewhere,” Romelle said, laughing as she took a sip of her milkshake.

“I guess I should look that up, seems I’m out of the loop,” Allura paused smiling. It seemed like she had something to say.

“I should go,” Lance said.

“Well, okay, um I’ll see you on Monday in Shiro’s class right?”

“Yeah, and I’ll send that email about him covering Power Ranger in class,”

“You do that Lance, and if I don’t see it on the board on Monday I’ll be severely disappointed,”

“I’ll try my best, but bye guys, enjoy your brain food!”

He walked away trying to appear casual when his mind was running through every sentence and word he had just muttered.

Did I say something dumb? Did I do something bad? Were they secretly laughing at me the whole time? No, I didn’t do anything wrong, I think it went alright?

They were laughing at you, not with you

Ah there you are, I had wondered where you went, really missed you for those couple hours

He grabbed his food and walked back to his bike. There was a hit of adrenaline coursing through his blood. She had that effect on him. Giving him a high that no drug ever could.

This is stupid, I mean it was just a conversation, why do I feel like this now? She’s just a person and I’m just a person and we’re just people talking. But she’s just so good at it.

Calm down you idiot, you just had a casual conversation with her.

Do you want to take another vacation? I think I can manage without you.

I can’t leave, I’m your thoughts

Well that’s dumb

He ran through the conversation hundreds of times while pedaling down the familiar roads again. However, by all accounts, the night was a success.

And Lance rode his bike off on the cracked brick sidewalks into the dark night, with a new different tune stuck in his head; it was sweet, a little exciting, and for that ride home he wasn't riding a bike, he was flying.

Chapter Text

:/

so

basically, hi, i hope i hope y'all are well

....

let's get properly introduced

my name is ingrid, i have a deep love/fascination with voltron but i also have issues with following through with things 

HOWEVER

i am committed to finishing this story because it like just barely begun and like i love that people actually like it???

like i was not expecting that?? and im so grateful???

so i definitely owe y'all a finished story, but im also a high school student and unfortunately very lazy and busy

i have ap tests in about three weeks and i have to pretty much give up all my free time to study for them but i'll promise you that there will be a new chapter the weekend tests are done (and i really mean it)

i know that's absolutely terrible after being gone for like three months and im soooooo sorry but unfortunately i do not live a life where i can prioritize voltron

so tl;dr i will continue this story as soon as my ap tests over which is in about three weeks

if you want to keep up with me for whatever reason or chat i have a tumblr: hitchhiking-to-pluto

otherwise i'd just like to say how truly sorry i am that this story disappeared suddenly and i really want to right that wrong

thanks for reading and commenting and leaving kudos it actually makes my day and i promise promise promise that im going to finish this

(and btw this message will be deleted by the time the next chapter is posted)

<3