Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Keith Kogane expected a lot from his life. 

End of story. 

From the first day of kindergarten, he always knew what he wanted to do. He knew he wanted to be up in the sky, flying like his mom. She would tell him stories about her adventures in the air—her days full of traveling and drop-offs and meeting people from other countries. 

Even now, when he looked into the depths of the night sky, he knew he was destined to be in the Stars. The sky was a place that was always calling him, tugging on his heart and playing a lovely tune in his ears. It was always a place that seemed vast and dark yet familiar and warm. The unknown excited him.

He would study the different stars, planets, and solar systems to feed his curiosity. He would research the various anomalies throughout space, always excited when the Galaxy Garrison would announce a new star that appeared close to Earth. 

He would stay awake into the depths of the night, astonished at how much the human race didn’t know about the space outside their atmosphere. Keith dreamed of someday entering that unknown and exploring it for himself. He dreamed that one day he could see a new star form with his own eyes, wishing he could experience the greatest unknown.

He now wished he could run away from the unknown. He yearned to happily wade in the pools of the known—not having any uncertainties about how his current situation would turn out. He no longer wished to watch the unknown explode in front of him, for the world already gave him his own little supernova that threw every certainty out of the spaceship.

Keith now sat on his couch and prayed that his eyes would be able to rest soon. It had been about an hour since his house was finally quiet, which meant he had an hour to catch up on mundane tasks he hadn’t had the time to do. He also had time to complete one of his assignments due at the end of the week.

Once again, he had an hour before he heard the familiar whine come from the bedroom. Keith rubbed his eyes and set his computer down. He frantically ran to it, feeling that awful sense of apprehension creep into his chest again when the wailing became louder.

When he entered the room, the wailing slowly lowered to a muffled cry. Silence followed once the man picked up the baby and cradled him in his arms. Keith rocked the child, quietly humming a nursery rhyme while rubbing circles onto his tiny back. 

"Good morning, my little star," said Keith, placing the baby, Nova, onto the changing station after placing a few soft kisses on his forehead. He cooed in response, his light brown eyes scanning the room in curiosity.

"Did you sleep alright?" asked Keith, grabbing a new diaper and wipes. The tiny human only stared in response and reached for his little toes—which he discovered a couple of days ago.

"I'm going to assume that's a yes." With that, Keith got to work and changed his diaper, frowning when he realized the kid didn't poop. He also changed him out of his elephant pajamas and into a Voltron University onesie with the tiniest shorts Keith has ever seen. 

Everything was so small. Keith laughed every time he had to buy new clothes for the kid, especially his little shoes. What did he even need shoes for? He literally couldn't walk.

Keith was thrown out of his thoughts when he heard his alarm go off. 

8 AM. 

Fuck.

Keith plucked the baby off the changing table and hop-skipped to the kitchen. He turned off the alarm and set up the computer for his morning lecture. While waiting for the class to begin, he prepped a bottle one-handed while simultaneously bouncing the squirmy 6-month-old. He kept motioning for the bottle and soon became restless from being deprived of it. 

"Almost ready, little guy. I just need to warm it up," Keith said as the microwave went off. His lecture also began. Keith quickly grabbed the bottle and sat down. Keith was so happy about the existence of technology.

After 2 hours of simultaneously taking notes and fitting in some tummy time, there was a knock and some scuffling at his door. Keith opened the door and was met with the smiling face of his cousin. Her large, circular glasses were thrown into her wild hair and clutched onto a plastic bag.

"Auntie P is here and ready to party. I even brought the goods for Little Podge over there!" Katie threw a plastic bag at her cousin. She then stole "Little Podge" from the floor and spun him in the air. Giggles filled the air from both the adult and child. Keith watched with a fond look in his eyes.

He looked down at the bag and began taking out its contents. 4 small squish bags of vegetables, baby spoons, and numbing ointment for teething babies.

"You are a lifesaver," said Keith, almost on the verge of tears. 

Almost.

—

Keith stared at the baby in the jumper, looking at him brightly in return.

"I need you to poop, kid."

The baby just stared at the man and jumped on his stumpy legs. 

"I know there's stuff inside of you that needs to come out."

He grabbed onto Keith's finger and tugged it toward the direction of his mouth.

"You ate squash and drank some formula. Stuff's gotta come out." He poked at his squishy little cheek. 

He suddenly stopped jumping, a peculiar look taking over his face. Keith looked at him in question. The baby continued to stare into space, his little face turning a light shade of red and letting out a small grunt. Keith jumped up from the couch and looked at the baby in awe.

"Are you pooping?!"

As fast as the grunting began, it ended. Nova's face shifted to normal, continued to jump with glee, and babbled his usual nonsense. Keith wiped at the drool that trailed down his chin and threw his hands on his face in defeat. 

'what to do if my baby won't poop.'

Keith's heart sank when it said to immediately call the pediatrician. He freaked out and immediately called his brother. 

He didn't answer.

He left a voicemail.

And then another.

And texted him.

And then called him again.

Keith's phone eventually began ringing, answering it immediately.

"Keith. What's wrong?"

"Shiro. I think Nova is dying."

"Keith. Explain what's happening."

Keith grabbed Nova from his seat and rocked him close in his arms. He rested his cheek against his head when he spoke.

"He hasn't pooped. I've fed him so much food, and he still hasn't. Where is the food going? And does his little tummy hurt? Is he going to explode? And he hasn't been sleeping because the poor guy is teething on top of it all! He is just a baby! He shouldn't be hurting—"

"Keith. It'll be okay. How long has it been since he last…expelled his food?"

"Yesterday around lunch."

"Okay. I think he's okay for now. I can always call up one of Pidge's friends and have them check him out."

"Okay."

"Yeah. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm good. Just nervous."

"He'll be fine. I promise."

"Thanks, Shiro."

"Anytime. I'll come over after work and bring food because I have a feeling you haven't eaten."

"…"

“Bye."

Shiro opened the door a few hours later, still dressed in his work clothes. He discarded his oversized jacket onto the kitchen table and gently placed the food down to not startle anyone. After he failed to find his brother in the living room, he checked the rooms.

He found Keith on the recliner with Nova resting on his chest. They were both sound asleep and taking slow breaths against one another. Keith looked pale…and tired, even when sleeping. 

As if sensing someone new in the room, they both stirred. Nova stretched his chubby arms and legs, the older one soon sitting upright and stretching his neck.

"Sorry to wake you, boys."

"No worries. He would have woken up anyway."

A beat of silence.

"Has the little man pooped yet?" 

Keith rubbed away the tiredness from his eyes and checked the baby's diaper for any solids.

"No."

"Oh."

"Shiro, I'm going to cry."

"Yeah, okay," said Shiro gently. He grabbed Nova from his arms and gave his brother some space. Keith emerged a few minutes later and joined Shiro at the dinner table, his shoulders slightly more relaxed. 

"I asked Katie for her pediatrician friend's number. He said he'll be over at 2 if nothing changes."

Chapter Text

Keith was a mess, his worry growing with each passing second. He practically checked Nova's diaper every hour, hoping he would resolve the problem…that way, the pediatrician wouldn't have to come at all. 

Much to his dismay, his diaper never filled itself, and the time soon hit 2 PM. He was rocking Nova in his arms when there was a faint knocking at the door. When he opened it all the way, he was welcomed by a tall man in a white coat. His hair was slightly disheveled from the wind, but his smile was perfectly intact. 

"Hi! I'm Doctor McClain. You can call me Lance." There was something weirdly familiar with the causal way the man talked. Something familiar in the confident lilt in his words. Even the name seemed familiar…feeling like he once had known someone with that name. He racked his memory for someone with the same kind smile and first name.

"Yes. Hello. I am Keith Kogane—" 

He made quick eye contact before the doctor's eyes jumped away from his. He looked nervous. 

"—Please come in." He gestured for the doctor to enter, kicking some soft toys out of the way to clear a distinct path to follow. He sat on the couch with the baby in his arms, his bright brown eyes searching for a familiar feature from Dr. McClain's face to latch onto…similar to what his dad was doing.

"Hi there, Mr. Buddy," said the pediatrician to the baby, quite seriously, "I am here to get a little look at your tummy. Do you like space?" Nova looked at the doctor in awe and soaked in every word, enchanted by the exciting intonation of his voice. He gave him a little smile. He pulled out a packaged toy from his bag, unwrapping it to reveal a blue teething toy in the shape of a rocket ship.

"What is this?" asked the doctor in awe, extending it toward the pair. Nova reached for the toy excitedly and almost squirmed out of his arms altogether.

"Alrighty, I am going to talk with your dad for a second, okay?" Nova replied with a grunt of some sort—and then a giggle. Both adults watched as pooled drool slowly dripped off the toy and onto his arm. Keith ignored it. Typical baby stuff.

"Alright, Mr. Kogane, you said that he hasn't emptied in over 2 days?"

He nodded, "almost 3 now." The pediatrician shook his head, writing something down in his notes.

"Have you diverged from his usual eating schedule?…or given him anything different to eat? Sometimes constipation might occur when their diet changes."

"I started giving him mushed vegetables when he turned 6 months, and there weren't any problems at first…."

"It's alright, Mr. Kogane! It happens. Babies are not the most… consistent creatures."

That reassured him a bit, smoothing out the frown that he subconsciously had on his face. Soon after, Dr. McClain checked Nova's vitals. All results were nothing out of the ordinary. He gave Nova small pokes in his side, getting tiny giggles out of him.

"He'll be okay…he just might have a massive explosion in his diaper in the next couple of days. It usually isn't a huge concern unless he continuously cries or if his belly bloats more than normal." Keith nodded, a sense of relief washing over him because he hadn't been showing any of those symptoms. 

"Thank you again. You really didn't have to come here. Especially since it was so last minute."

The doctor stayed quiet, not saying a single word. He was just staring like he was debating whether to say something or not. 

"Where did you go to school?" That was what he decided to ask Keith after some time. The dark-haired man frowned, confused at the sudden question. It wasn't a weird question per se...it was just random for the current moment. 

"I mean-okay, wait. That was a weird question."

"Not really, I guess. I mean... considering I have my diploma sitting on the table." He gestured toward the frame sitting on the table.

"I guess."

"Voltron University—"

"Oh my god. I totally know you!" exclaimed Dr. McClain, standing up in excitement. Nova almost fell off Keith's lap as his head followed the adult toward the sky. Keith knew him. That much was evident. His name was familiar, and everything about him screamed 'we've met before,' but he couldn't pinpoint where…from when. It couldn't have been from the past couple of years, so it must have been years ago…

"We took Intro Biology together!" stated Dr. McClain.

"Uh…" Keith frantically flipped through his memory to find anything about his first semester of college. It was so long ago…it was hard for him to remember.

"We were always the top scorers in the class...and the professor would always joke about it!"

"I don't—" All his memories back then were so fuzzy…

"Remember? She was always like, 'Lance and Keith...always neck and neck with the exam scores.'"

Keith just stared at the other, both of his hands occupied by the baby attempting to eat his fingers. He actually didn't remember that at all. Now that he thought about it, he didn't even believe that the professor liked him all that much…

After a few agonizing moments, the once-excited man sat down, discouraged. Finally, he let out a defeated sigh, rustling with the paper of notes, some of the letters having familiar loops and crosses. The penmanship looked vaguely familiar…

How would someone's penmanship look familiar to him…?

Oh. 

"You were the 'organism' guy," said Keith, the sudden realization hitting him like a punch to the gut. 

The doctor looked offended, "That's seriously the only thing you remember?" Keith couldn't hold back his smile. He was right, and the doctor was just as embarrassed as the day it happened. 

"I mean, how could I forget?" 

"Dude...I write something wrong ONE time..."

That got Keith to laugh—a real laugh that bubbled from his chest. Nova was surprised by the sudden noise and looked up to examine what was happening. Keith just gave him a small kiss on the forehead in reassurance. 

"It was three times, from what I remember." He laughed again, unable to stop himself. 

Dr. McClain—no, Lance— stood up so fast the chair made a painfully loud sound, getting the attention of both of the boys. Their owlish eyes watched in curiosity.

"I have to get back to the hospital!" It came out more of a shout, sounding almost desperate to leave. Keith didn't understand his sudden shift in behavior. 

"Okay. Do you want water for the road?"

"No!"

Oh, okay. 

"No, thank you!" he corrected. He crouched a bit to talk to Nova and change the conversation, "bye, bud. It was nice meeting you. Your aunt wasn't kidding when she said you're cute. Make sure to poop for your dad, alright?" Lance glanced up to Keith. He gave him a soft smile.

A somewhat pained smile was given in return, "please let me know when the little man explodes.” He nodded. The door was quickly shut behind him, leaving a confused Keith in his wake. 

He didn't mean to offend him.

He was almost too scared to text him the following day, letting him know that Nova was probably 5 pounds lighter after his latest explosion.

Chapter Text

ger·mi·nate: (of a seed or spore) begin to grow and put out shoots after a period of dormancy. Plants typically do this within 3 to 5 days of exposure to moisture. 

Overwatering, or too much moisture in the soil, can cause the seeds to be washed away from where they're planted or encourage the growth of mold. If not in the appropriate environment, their roots won't be able to sprout in the usual amount of time or fail to sprout entirely.

Some new plant owners will over-water because they overestimate how much they truly need, like a new parent that smothers their firstborn with attention. Overattentive parents end up suffocating their children. 

Some new plant owners will under-water because they underestimate the amount of water they need, much like a parent who fails to be attentive enough to their child. They allow them to be too independent and inadvertently teach them to never ask for help. 

It's two sides of the same coin—parents who want the best for their children but don't know the suitable environment they need to grow. And much like the unpredictability of plants, babies were the same way...

...and Keith Kogane was never good with plants.

He was always too scared to dig into the soil of the planet he lived on. He would always look but never touch, too afraid to kill the life it held. That's why he was always comfortable with the stars: they are something tangible but not able to be touched by his own hands. Not able to be damaged by the roughness of his own skin. 

He stared down at the seedling at his feet. It was now beginning to show signs of germination. The plant would soon sprout into a beautiful plant full of color and life, yet Keith was terribly afraid of not providing the correct amount of water. 

Will he put too much? Not enough? Will he ever truly be able to keep this plant away from harm? Will he overwater and cause mold and algae to grow in its roots? Will he not provide enough and cause its leaves to fall off and wither away?

This wasn't just some weed that grew in the pavement crevices and thrived off runoff water. This was a precious species that required all the right care: proper sunlight, nutrients, water, and drainage. If Keith couldn't do this right, he didn't know what would happen.

And that scared him.

Keith re-situated himself on the couch, his computer resting snugly in his lap and a can of peaches sitting on the ottoman. The father took another bite as he scrolled through various parenting forums, an unbelievable amount of uncertainty gnawing at him. He soon landed on some Mommy Blog that used too many words to describe changing a diaper and filling a bottle. The author also kept referring to Keith as a Mom Warrior, which put a quick stop to his reading. He tried to imagine a dad writing the same thing; however, he knew that a dad calling their over-glorified parenting essay a ‘Daddy Blog’ might seem a bit worse.

He shut his laptop to combat the headache that was forming.

As if on cue, he heard Nova waking up in his room. He made small grunts and groans as he emerged into consciousness. They were sounds that would never get old to him. The little guy was met with small kisses on his forehead and taken to the kitchen to be fed some food before his loyal army arrived. Loyal army, as in Pidge, Allura, Shiro, and Adam (maybe). 

He heard them before they knocked, Pidge’s voice raising over the rest. Muffled laughter followed from the rest of the group.

“—where is he?” asked Pidge once the door swung open.

“Ah, you just missed him. He went to the store to get some more baby food,” said Keith flatly.

“Shut up.” Pidge pushed past him to get to Nova, sitting politely in his highchair. His black hair was pulled up by a small blue hairband, making his hair stick straight up off the top of his head.

“You look like a duster with your hair like that,” informed Pidge to the baby, giving the ponytail a slight wiggle with her finger. He smiled and was delighted to see the familiar white hair walk into his line of sight behind Pidge. That’s when all hell broke loose (in the best way possible). Keith didn’t know which was louder: Nova’s excited screaming or Allura’s happy baby voice. The pair reuniting had always been a fun little trade-off of Allura’s ‘Hello, Mr. Handsome!’s and Nova’s squeals of excitement…and Keith honestly couldn’t distinguish any of it.

A quick, “I’m going to finish feeding him for you Keith-y!” was hollered from the kitchen.

He laughed and greeted the rest of his company, which included Shiro and Adam, carrying armfuls of grocery bags. Both men tried and failed to not look winded from the task.

“Sorry for getting here so late,” said Adam, “Shiro and I were occupied by some birds—” Keith hummed like that sentence explained anything.

“They keep shitting all over our backyard,” supplied Shiro. He set the rest of the groceries on the counter. “There were over a dozen of them—”

“There were a lot of birds…and a lot of poop.”

“We had to completely scrub down our backyard. A total mess.”

"A total mess," agreed Adam. Shiro rubbed at his temples. Keith hummed again, putting another item into the fridge. He frowned when he came across some fruit. They surely weren't going to be using it tonight for dinner.

"It's so you don't get scurvy," said Pidge, smushed sweet peas now resting in her hair and splashed on her glasses. She picked up a nectarine and took a bite, frowning when juice dripped all down her hand.

"Why'd you get mushy ones?"

"'Mushy' as in ripened?" asked Allura. She had matching sweet peas in her hair, and Nova propped on her hip. Her long hair was tightly gripped by Nova's chubby hand. He also had sweet peas in his hair. She and Pidge began discussing fruits.

"I'm not going to get scurvy?" Sure, he didn't eat the healthiest, but he still ate the occasional vegetable.

Allura eyed him, "We discussed it at the store. Out of all of us, you're most likely the one to get it."

Keith was genuinely taken aback, "...and not Pidge?

"No," affirmed Allura, "she gets fed regularly at work."

"Name the last fruit you ate. That nectarine doesn't count." 

She set the half-eaten fruit on the counter to help her think.

"An avocado. It was in a sandwich."

"That counts!" shouted Allura excitedly, lifting and shaking Nova's arm in the air to signal a win. Shiro and Adam continued to celebrate and clap with Nova, earning a huge smile and some giggles.

"But does it, though?" instigated Shiro. He gave his husband a slight nudge with his elbow.

"Shiro has a point. However, could one say that Pidge remembers the date of when this event took place?" The exaggerated eye roll that followed was pretty much an answer in and of itself.

"Three weeks ago," whispered Pidge.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you over Nova." That was Keith as he scooped Nova from Allura's arms to wipe down his face.

"You heard me loud and clear, Kogane."

"Mhm." He left the room waving a hand in dismissal. Allura watched him exit, seemingly lost in thought. She turned to Shiro and Pidge once the door shut completely, a look of concern in her eyes.

"Is he doing okay?"

"Yeah, Nova is fine. He was a little clogged, but that ended quickly." Pidge tapped at her screen absentmindedly.

"Not Nova—wait, what happened with Nova?"

"—constipation" 

"—congestion" 

"—clogged baby stuff."

Adam, Shiro, and Pidge said this simultaneously. Allura nodded along like they had clarified anything.

"Nova was clogged for a bit, and Keith was freaking the fuck out, so I called Lance and he helped calm him down with fancy Pediatrician words."

Now that caught Shiro's attention. Keith said a pediatrician stopped by but failed to mention how everything went. He knew that Pidge had a couple of friends that worked in pediatrics but never remembered her mentioning a Lance. The only other time he heard that name was when Keith was in college...he tucked that information into the back of his mind to bring up later. 

"I haven't seen that boy in ages. How is he doing?"

"Fine. Still irritating as ever," said Pidge, lacking any actual malice.

Allura hummed in response. Her attention was taken when Keith reemerged with a clean Nova.

"Mr. Handsome! You're all cleaned up!" The baby was immediately stolen, which was a good thing. They still needed to cook dinner.

One broken oven later, they ended up making pasta since that's the only thing Keith's kitchen was prepped for. Shiro swore he didn't push any buttons this time, but Adam remained skeptical. Keith called a repairman a little later, but when he did, he wouldn't be able to get help for a couple of weeks. Apparently, it was 'Broken Oven Season,' and Adam got a hearty slap when he asked Shiro if he went over to those people's houses, too. 

It was a warm feeling having the company. Keith definitely felt more relaxed after being with everyone. He guessed it was good to surround himself with people over the age of 7 months every once in a while. He tried to remember the last time he had a big gathering before Nova entered their lives but couldn't. 

He couldn't because it wasn't always like this. Keith could go months without having to contact anyone, honestly forgetting that other people existed outside of his own mind. The occasional 'you alive?' text from Shiro and Pidge were the only things that would remind him during those times.

Keith promised himself that he wouldn't ever go back to living like that again.

Mainly because of Nova.

Nova needed the sunlight his friends supplied. He required the soil and water and air and nutrients. There was no way that Keith would deprive him of that, even if that kept him tethered to the Earth. No matter how heavy the gravity weighed on his shoulders, he would stay where Nova needed.

No matter how much this newfound dependence on other people made him want to dig up this newly sprouted plant and escape back into space. 

Chapter Text

Keith remembered getting sick as a kid. He remembered the unbearable coldness in his bones. The shivers, the coughing, the runny nose. The ache in his chest when he inhaled too hard and the fear of never having enough air. He always thought that he would never get better.

What he remembered most was the feeling of hopelessness that accompanied that sickness. When sick, he couldn’t do anything and was forced to stay in place until he got better. He felt weak and had no control over his recovery. 

He felt stuck. 

How was he supposed to explore the galaxy if he couldn’t move?

Keith knew that there was nothing worse than a cold that arrived like the morning fog, agonizingly slow to cover the entirety of the city in the sickly mist. The dread of waking up one day with a sore throat and knowing what would result from it. Waking up the next day with a cough; persistent in nature, naturally. Waking up with a no longer functioning nose the day after that. Now feeling tired and sluggish and stuffy. Forcing yourself to rest even though every fiber of your being tells you to get up and go. 

That heaviness in Keith’s chest returned, not allowing him to breathe deeply. He felt congested, anxious, and scared. His chest would tighten with every aching minute; he felt like he couldn’t breathe even though he was completely healthy. Nova, with his sweaty hands, clogged nose, and irritated eyes, was the one who needed help. His crying was as persistent as Keith’s worry building in his chest. Every wail dug the dagger in his chest further and further toward his heart.

This was how Keith knew that Nova didn’t belong in space. He could prepare for anything but this. The unpredictability of his sprouting seedling was not immune to the unpredictability of illness. They could have the spaceship, space suits, water, and soil packed away in a suitcase, but they couldn’t account for the oxygen. Both of them could be prepared for a journey out of the atmosphere, but soon enough, Nova would make them run out of air. Alarms would blare, and it would be an absolute nightmare.

Alarms blared as they descended back to Earth, as he continued to wail out in pain and suck up all of the available oxygen. No matter what the father did, he would not stop.

…and Keith had tried everything:

He fed him.

He bathed him.

He changed him.

He did everything that was a part of Baby101.

But it didn't stop Nova from waking up crying, which he never did, and he was agitated all day. Keith wrote that off as being hungry, but he was still just as fussy after a bottle and packet of smushed bananas. 

This continued for the whole first day…then a second. Nova woke up snotty the second, and Keith feared that he would sneeze and cause a booger avalanche. He was tired and irritable. The child cried to be held but then would cry to be put down. When he was put down, he would cry to be picked up. Keith was exhausted.

He had just finished changing his diaper when Nova's little face scrunched again in agitation, the beginnings of a cry forming. Keith forced a smile on his face as he lightly brought the other into his arms. It wasn't his fault that he was feeling this way, so there was no use in getting upset. Instead, he just swung a toy in front of his face to try and distract him.

He was unsuccessful.

He stared at the toy in his hand—a blue spaceship. Nova's new favorite toy. He looked at it again and again and had to stop his mind from drifting to the person who gifted it to his son…and found himself laughing at the memory of Lance asking Nova if he liked space. He wondered what Lance would do in this situation…and considered calling him. 

Which was dumb. 

Keith set the toy down.

The crying continued, leaving Keith distressed beyond belief; his senses overloaded with every wail that left Nova's mouth. He couldn't sleep and hardly ate. How could he have an appetite when Nova sounded so sad?

On day three, he texted Shiro again to update him, but there wasn't a response. He called Pidge but was sent to voicemail. This didn't help ease his mind at all. He called his boss and let him know he couldn't come in. He also emailed his professors, hoping they would extend some due dates.

Nova. 

Keith mentally slapped himself for drifting away from what was most important. He physically shook his head to regain focus. He snuggled his son close and smushed his cheek onto his own. 

Did he feel warm? He positioned a hand on Nova's forehead. 

He felt warm, no? Babies were typically warm, but this felt different. Maybe Keith was just going crazy.

Maybe.

Keith read and read and read.

According to Google, Nova had a fever and was going to die. Okay, no. That was an exaggeration. 

Keith, focus. 

According to Google, he had to take Nova to the doctor if he had a fever higher than 102. He checked his temperature approximately twenty times and was consistently in the 97-98 range. He was fine.

But was he? Was he allowed to sleep when he was sick? Was sleep good for him if he wasn’t fully healthy? Did it change for babies? Will his cough give him future breathing problems? Could babies develop asthma from the common cold? Could 8-month-olds get pneumonia? 

Jesus fucking christ, Keith. He didn’t have pneumonia. He set his phone on the sofa cushion and looked down at the sleeping baby in his arms. 

He was asleep…

No way. 

He was asleep. Keith could cry. He didn’t, out of fear of waking him up. Instead, Keith sat there and soaked in the silence. He watched his son regain the oxygen he desperately needed; his short breaths finally evening out. Keith raked his fingers through Nova’s short black hair, trailing his fingers down to his swollen eyes and puffy cheeks. So soft and delicate. 

Keith closed his eyes for the first time in forever, his eyelids weighing heavy and seemingly stinging. Maybe everything was going to be okay after all. Maybe that was the last crying fit. Maybe—

Buzz.

Nova shifted in Keith’s arms. He didn’t dare breathe.

Buzz. Buzz. 

Nova’s eyes popped open, bright and already filled with tears. Keith’s ears heard the noise before it even began again.

He silenced the device and unlocked it with his fingerprint. It displayed his most recent Google search. His mind jumped back to all the articles he found about this situation. If a baby doesn’t stop crying, do this. If a baby doesn’t stop crying, do that. His mind jumped to the article that dared to tell him to simply pray. In all honesty, with his lack of sleep and the hunger gnawing at his stomach, he was kind of considering it to be a viable option.

He continued to rock Nova in his arms and truly wondered what Lance would do in this situation. It was day three, and Keith wholeheartedly believed that the pediatrician would have healed his son by now…and what kind of father did that make him? A father that couldn’t even take care of his own son. He couldn’t even do the simplest thing for him. 

So pathetic. Maybe Nova would have been better off…

The next thing he knew, his hand was holding his phone that displayed Lance’s name across his screen. 

When did he do that? He took a long look at the screen and saw the time.

1:39 AM.

Holy shit.

What did he think he was doing calling him now of all times? 

He needed to hang up.

Oh my god, Keith, hang up.

Hang up—

"Keith? Is everything okay?" said a worried voice on the other side of the call.

Holy shit, he answered… or was his mind playing tricks on him?

"Keith?" 

Keith assumed that this situation was actually happening and that he couldn't just hang up.

"I'm so sorry—it's so early, but…Nova is really sick, and he hasn't stopped crying and hasn't slept in days, and he's so sad." The distress was evident in his voice. 

"Hey. Everything's going to be okay—"

"What if he's dying?" He glanced over to his son propped on the floor, crying. He was so helpless and probably so scared and tired. Keith rubbed his eyes for the hundredth time that day. 

There was some shuffling in the background. 

"I completely understand your worry. Can you name some of his symptoms for me?" Keith noted the shift in his voice, going from groggy to fully awake and ready to work. It was like a switch. Night and day. The calmness from the other side of the call relaxed Keith. There was a reason he was a pediatrician, after all. 

"I think he has a fever?" He said it like a question, "he's eaten, and he's clean, and we played all day, but he's not sleeping…and he's so warm—and cries like he's hurting. And I just, I don't know what to do."

"Hey, I'll be over as soon as I can. I'm going to stop at the store on the way," there was more rustling on the other side of the call and the sound of keys, "Do you need anything?"

Did he need anything? Yeah, he needed his son to feel better.

"No, thank you. Again, I'm so sorry—"

"Don't be sorry. I'll see you in a bit." The line ended, the uneasiness eating away at his chest. 

—

No more than 45 minutes later, Keith heard a knock barely audible over Nova. As he opened the door, he was hit by a calm wave that washed over them. It engulfed them in a cool embrace that ensured their safety as they descended back down into Earth's atmosphere—almost like an ocean that would catch them and gently direct them to shore. 

And on that shore stood a man with a handful of bags, sleepy eyes, and a kind smile. He looked at the two boys who crash-landed and held a helping hand.

"Hi," said Lance.

The wailing died down to a low hum; Nova seemingly found comfort in the water, too.

"Hey," said Keith. He motioned for the other to come inside, but he declined. Without saying a word, he handed Keith the bags in exchange for Nova. Keith took note of the coldness of his touch and watched as he put a hand on Nova's forehead, the baby still softly groaning in discomfort. He furrowed his eyebrows. 

"You're right. He is running a little warm. You have a jacket for him?"

Keith nodded and grabbed a sweater from Nova's room. Lance put the clothing over the tiny limbs of the baby and then stepped outside into the cool air. He took a deep breath, seemingly drowning out the soft cries. He gave Keith a slight nod before closing the door behind him and leaving Keith in complete silence.

Did he just steal his child?

"Uh…" Keith looked around his condo and realized the mess he had been living in. Yeah, that had to be cleaned ASAP. So he immediately got to work; washing dishes, wiping counters, picking toys off the floor, taking out the trash, and clearing the living room from all the trash accumulated over the past few days. Once done, he looked around and appreciated the silence. 

His mind immediately jumped to Nova. 

Where were they? And when would they be back?

He forced himself to sit down and be patient. 

They'll be back soon enough.

The two boys returned about 5 minutes later, and Keith was relieved to see (and hear) that Nova was no longer crying. He walked up to his son in Lance's arms and gave him a couple of kisses on the forehead, his skin cold from the outside air. He was close enough to feel the coolness radiating from the arms wrapped around Nova. 

Keith stole his child back, basking in the familiar weight of him in his arms. With that, Lance began examining Nova, checking his breathing, eyes, ears, and nose. He reassured him that everything came back relatively healthy.

"He's got a cold and he's teething pretty badly. I wouldn't be surprised if a tooth broke through in the next week or so." 

Lance walked over to the bags on the counter, pulled out some extra strength teething gel, and applied it to his gums. Nova scrunched his nose at the taste.

"I got some teething toys you can freeze. He might like those…and baby Tylenol if he gets any warmer." Keith nodded. Lance continued to shuffle through the various plastic bags.

"I also got you," he pointed at Keith, "some gatorade and waters. Oh! and some granola bars." He continued to rustle through the bags some more, "Oh! And starbursts...and gummy worms…and my favorite chips because you have to try them!"

Keith stared at the other man and tried to process everything he said.

"Wait—you got me gummy worms?"

"Yeah! I remember you brought some to class one time…" said Lance sheepishly. He nervously rubbed the back of his neck.

He cleared his throat. "Also, this food is for you." He extended a tupperware filled to the brim with food in Keith's direction.

"It's okay, I already ate-"

"Don't lie."

Keith took a step back and didn't make any effort to take it. Lance must have seen his reluctance and decided to physically put it in the other's hand.

"No need to be so scared. I promise that I'm not that bad at cooking." Keith's frown broke. Lance took that as an opening to swoop Nova out of his arms so he could eat.

"Thank you." It was quiet, but he meant it.

"…so, uh, how was your day?"

"It was fine," said Keith. He shoveled another bite of rice into his mouth. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't avoid the inevitable small talk. He knew Lance was just trying to distract him from the anxiety that buzzed on his skin.

"How was yours?" How lame.

"It was good! I worked in the morning and got off surprisingly early—and then I actually made dinner!" He then motioned toward the tupperware in Keith's hands, "I also watched a really dumb movie but fell asleep before it ended."

"I'm sorry for waking you up."

"No need to apologize. I'm just happy that Nova is doing better." He now motioned to the almost asleep baby in his arms. Keith felt himself soften at that, grateful for the help.

Now looking at Nova, his eyes finally resting, doubt began to sink in. Was he not doing enough for Nova? Was he not good enough for him to calm down? After all of this time, will he ever be good enough for him?—

"Sometimes babies can sense when their parent is distressed and it can feed into the crying. It's not because he doesn't like you or anything. Sometimes they just need someone detached from the chaos." Lance seemed lost in thought, "like a breath of fresh air, y'know?"

Keith took another bite of the food in response. 

A breath of fresh air.

"…how are you doing? I mean, because—usually if a kid isn't sleeping, the parent isn't either."

He could lie.

"I'm...tired." 

Lance nodded.

"I just, haven't really slept all that much. I also had to call out of work…and my professors still haven't responded to my emails—"

"Professors?"

"Yeah, I—decided to take a couple of child development classes for Nova." He was pretty much overwhelmed at this point. Between work and assignments and projects and essays and Nova, he was wiped out and close to self-destructing.

Lance considered his response for a second.

"That is very thoughtful of you."

Keith hummed in response, pushing around some rice with his spoon.

"Is it hard—like, going to school, working, and taking care of Nova?"

"I guess, but my work schedule is flexible. I used to work a lot more before Nova."

"What do you do…exactly? Weren't you like, a math major?"

He could have said he worked for a special wing of NASA—the Garrison. He could have said he was a member of the Flight Crew that tested planes and ships. He could have said that he traveled far and had even touched the stars on multiple occasions. He could have said that, but he didn't. So he settled on a simple answer:

"I'm a pilot," stated Keith. 

It wasn't a lie.

"And what got you into that?"

So many questions.

He cleared his throat, "my, uh, mom was a pilot. So I always wanted to be like her." Some might even say she raised him in space, never rooting him down into the Earth's soil.

"…and my brother is a pilot as well."

"You have a brother?" That really caught his attention.

"Yeah."

A pause. Lance didn't ask any questions about his family, which he was grateful for. 

"What's your family like?" asked Keith. 

His eyes immediately lit up. Lance looked at him like he had given him all the stars in the sky. 

"They're funny...and annoying. And loud…like, really loud." Keith smiled, thinking about his own little family and how loud they could sometimes get.

He continued, "They're great, really. I have a handful of siblings that are all super cool. They're all very lively and creative and kind...and happy. We were all super close growing up. We would always go to the beach or garden with our grandma." Lance smiled at the memory.

And that was how they were different. Lance grew up surrounded by nature. At the beach. In the forests. In the water. He was not afraid of digging into the soil and feeding off of its nutrients. He was someone who belonged to the Earth. He appreciated the sun, no matter how bright it hit his skin. He appreciated the solidness underneath his feet and used it to root himself and grow. He enjoyed the elements around him, probably never thinking of escaping from it all. Likewise, lance probably never wished to escape beyond the safety of Earth's atmosphere.

"What got you into Pediatrics? Weren't you like, a psych major or something?" Keith eyed the other man and hoped to get a reaction out of him, copying the same tone of voice he used earlier.

"Yeah, I was." A small smile. 

He continued, "I grew up around a lot of babies—having a big family and all. I always knew that I wanted to work with kids. I just didn't know…how, exactly. I eventually went into nursing, and then applied to medical school, and then boom, I'm a pediatrician." 

"You make it sound easy."

"It… wasn't. I just knew that the end result would be worth it." Keith gave him a slight nod, prompting him to continue.

"Kids are so bright. So smart…they absorb everything around them in an instant. They believe that they can grow up and become anything they want… and if they are given the right tools, they can."

He continued, "they dream. They look at the stars and say that they will be the first to explore every inch of the galaxy. They learn about the unknowns of the ocean and say that they will be the first to touch the floor." He took a pause to look at Keith, rubbing at the skin of his hands subconsciously as if to help him continue verbalizing his thoughts.

"This sounds dumb, but… I always felt like I was meant to help guide those children toward those unknowns. I have always been drawn to them, but never enough to explore them myself, but I know others are capable of doing so. So I believe that it's always been my job to help guide those children to the stars, even if it's just making sure they're healthy."

Keith just looked at Lance, truly looking at him. He was at a loss for words.

"I-i'm sorry for rambling, I just," he closed his mouth, "I—" 

"That's not dumb—ever since I was a kid, I had always wanted to explore the stars…and I did thanks to a lot of people who continued to believe in me. If there weren't people like you in the world, nobody would continue to dream." His eyes rested on the sleeping baby in Lance's arms. His brain finally caught up with his mouth and realized how stupid that must have sounded.

Silence.

"Shut the fuck up. You've been to space?!"

That's seriously the thing he focused on?

"Uh, yeah?" Keith was getting whiplash from this conversation. 

"Don't just 'uh, yeah' me like that's something everyone does in their lifetime, Keith."

Keith shrugged.

"You just said you are a pilot…?"

"Yeah, for NASA…"

"…"

"—I pilot ships into space sometimes…."

"Understatement of the year."

A beat of silence. 

"So, you're like, a hero and stuff."

"I wouldn't call myself a hero, no. I'm just someone who likes space."

Another beat.

"The stars...what are they like?"

Keith was taken aback by the sincerity in the question. It was hard to understand why someone so connected to the Earth would wonder what the stars were like. They had so much to look at on the surface of the Earth. They had the plants and the insects and the wind and the water. So why would they be interested in the void that space held? 

Keith looked down at the Earth below him, humming with life. He looked up to the stars, buzzing with a familiar uncertainty that was always calling him toward it, a familiar uncertainty that seemed to wrap itself around the planet. A tight hug that allowed for it to invite all of those that would simply look up. 

He needed to remember that the stars were just as much a part of Earth as the water, air, and soil. The stars embraced the Earth from above, similar to how the oceans embraced it from below. Like Keith, some people might see these great unknowns and be compelled to them, while others might see them, simply admire their beauty, but then turn their attention away. They might turn away to help others look up like Lance, with his welcoming pull and gentle tide. He would find those who needed help and gently guide them to shore. He would find those who crash-landed and help guide them back toward the stars.

So…what are the stars like? To Keith, they were bright and familiar and felt like home. Others might think differently, but he knew that Lance would understand. He knew he would understand because he said that he also had been drawn to them at one time or another.

"The stars. They're inviting—and so bright."

Lance looked up and locked his eyes with the other. Black met blue—the void of the galaxy was now submerged by the coolness of the ocean, two realms that never sought to mix. In this, Keith found the solid ground beneath the water's surface. He was grounded and safe. For the first time, he had felt rooted in place but did not feel stuck. He felt solid and sturdy. He felt whole. When the current swept at his feet, he wasn't pushed under the water and left to drown. Instead, he stayed upright, wholly supported by the Earth.

The pull returned, similar to two opposing magnets; however, instead of it pulling up toward the stars, it was forward, toward the outstretched hand in front of him. It was forward, toward the kind smile and gentle words. It was forward, toward the cool blueness of his eyes, the same ones from years and years ago. The blue eyes that never lost their gentleness toward him.

He allowed the pull to take him, his eyes landing on Lance's face and trailing the light freckles painted across his nose and cheeks and down his neck. Keith was tempted to count them right then and there but resisted. Instead, his eyes trailed to the other man's lips and then back to his eyes, not failing to notice how Lance stared at his own in invitation. They both leaned into the pull, allowing the gap between them to close ever so slightly...

Nova then wailed without warning, causing the walls to shake and crack the foundation. The crying was as piercing as it was on the first day. Keith nearly jumped back in fear and "happily" reintroduced his headache. He reached for his son in Lance's arms, but Lance quickly waved him away.

"I'll get him. Go get some rest." 

"I can't ask you to do that-"

"You didn't need to ask. I volunteered."

"Lance, you have to work-"

"I don't work today."

"But you probably had plans-"

"You overestimate my social life."

"..."

"You won't miss anything, I promise. Go get some rest."

He searched for any hesitance or idea that he didn't want to help but failed. All he saw was sincerity. Keith gave him a slight nod.

"... I'll just rest my eyes for a bit. If he keeps crying, wake me up."

"Will do." Keith stood up and gave Nova forehead kisses, while Lance gave Keith's hand a gentle squeeze for reassurance. Keith received a small smile in return. He gave the pair a quick glance before shutting the bedroom behind him.

The father didn't even remember falling asleep; he couldn't remember when the crying stopped or when the calming sounds of waves crashing onto the shore began. He didn't know and was too tired to try and figure it out. 

Chapter Text

Stillness. 

White noise. 

The silence of disbelief after crash-landing.

The Astronaut examined the aftermath from his current position. He noted that the only damage was to his ship's exterior, highlighted by dents and scratches and bruises to the metal. In addition, the windows were cracked, and the rocket boosters were busted beyond repair.

Upon opening the door of the ship, he looked around at the landscape surrounding him—taking in the smells of the saltwater and the coolness of the ocean breeze against his warm skin. The trees in the surrounding area were ripped apart and hunched over. Most likely from a recent storm—or from the crash-landing itself. He sat defeatedly on top of the spacecraft and contemplated his next move.

His attention shifted to a figure standing a fair distance from the spacecraft, examining it in wonder. The figure was knee-deep in the ocean water, obviously unfazed by their soaked jeans or how the wind tossed their hair in every direction. Instead, the figure with ocean blue eyes simply watched the Astronaut as if he was something worth giving attention to.

The figure held out their hand and offered him a reassuring smile. 

—

Keith woke up to silence.

He woke up to the calm after the storm. The stillness that followed tragedy; a blessing that followed calamity. He rolled himself over to check the time, the phone light blinding him. Keith groaned at the eye strain. 

9:56 AM. 

When was the last time he was able to sleep in this late? Usually, Nova woke him up by now…

Wait, Nova—

Keith immediately flung himself out of bed, apparently too fast for his physical body to register. His shoulder hit the dresser before colliding with the hardwood floor. This action was followed by a loud thump and another groan from the man. He needed to compose himself. 

Thinking back, the last thing he remembered was falling asleep, obviously. Before that? Lance offered to watch Nova for the night, which explained why he could sleep so late. However, it did not explain the condo’s lack of noise. It was almost too quiet. Alarms began to blare in Keith’s mind. 

With a small exhale, he exited the safety of his room to take a look at the aftermath of last night and find his kid. Various toys were haphazardly sprawled across the floor, a half-full bottle of formula sitting on the counter, and a couple of dirty dishes from hours before. He grabbed a handful of toys and returned them to their correct place, simultaneously looking for any signs of the two boys. That was when a bright yellow post-it note caught his attention. 

It read: 

Hey dad, the tall guy and I went to get some donuts from the place across the street. We’ll be back soon, we promise! <3 —Nova (and Lance!)

It was written as if Nova wrote it. Keith laughed, all sense of alarm diminishing by the second. He reread it twice for good measure and then finished cleaning up the kitchen and living room until they returned 20 minutes later. 

Lance greeted the other man with a broad smile that reached past his eyes to the top of his face. His right arm was occupied with Nova, and his left was decorated with various bags and a cupholder with 4 hot drinks.

“Good morning! I…couldn’t figure out how to expand his car seat into a stroller, so I carried the little bug,” said Lance, a little winded, grateful when Keith reached forward to take Nova from him. Keith couldn’t ignore the happy sparkle in his son’s eyes and gave him a kiss on the forehead.

“Morning. Um, whatcha got there?” Keith motioned his eyes toward the items Lance was carrying. 

“Coffee and tea…and donuts, and bagels, and look, I got these little milk jugs! They’re like, Nova-sized! I couldn’t not get us some!” Lance held out these tiny little milk containers that only contained about 6 ounces of milk. They were quite small, like Nova. 

“They are quite small, like Nova,” said Keith, trying to hide the fondness in his voice.

“Oh! I also didn’t know if you liked your coffee with cream or not…or if you even like coffee, so there’s a black coffee, another one with cream and stuff, one is green tea, and the last one is English Breakfast tea. Oh! And there are honey packets in the bag if you want some!”

Keith was overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness and genuine kindness the other man showed toward him. Keith might have gotten emotional if he had thought about it too long.

Might.

“Thank you, Lance.”

“No problem, man. When Nova and I woke up, we noticed that you don’t have a coffee maker and lost all hope. The donut shop was the best option.”

“Oh, yeah. My brother broke it a couple of months ago.”

Lance stopped unpacking everything from the bags to take in this information. “Ah. It happens. Oh!” Lance held up a cylindrical-shaped object, “I also bought oven cinnamon rolls! You just pop them in the oven—”

“My brother broke that, too.”

Lance’s hands dropped to his sides in defeat.

“Okay, I need to meet your brother.”

“No you don’t,” said Keith quickly. No hesitation. Keith earned a small pout from Lance.

“Okay. Well, you also don’t have a toaster. He break that, too?”

“No. I just keep that in the cupboard.”

“Excuse me? You don’t use it as a decoration piece on the counter?”

“No?”

“Hm. I might have to reassess this friendship.”

“Well, do it quickly. Have the results by the time I finish changing Nova.”

“No promises. Can I use the stovetop?”

“Just don’t break it, McClain.”

“I’ll try not to.”

When Keith returned to the kitchen, everything was set out and ready to be eaten. Lance finished cooking some eggs, smushing a runny-looking one with a baby fork. Keith assumed it was for Nova because he knew he wasn’t the one that would eat it.

“Don’t give me that look. Eggs are good for babies, but he’ll choke if it’s not runny enough.” 

He turned to the baby in Keith’s arms and leaned at eye level, “Isn’t that right, buddy? You’ll choke and then send your dad into cardiac arrest. Nope, nope. Can’t have that, can we?” Nova held up his hand and pointed his stubby finger at the man. Lance leaned forward and made a ‘boop!’ noise when he pressed his nose to the tiny finger.

How endearing.

Keith grabbed a toasted bagel and one of the cups holding tea. He proceeded to burn his tongue in an attempt to ignore the scene that had just played out before him. 

Dumb.

The three of them ate in comfortable silence. Every so often, Lance would hum for Nova to open his mouth for food, and Nova would respond with various laughs, smiles, and cooing. He started playing a new game of throwing items onto the floor and cracking up whenever Lance bent down to pick them up. He seemed to be enjoying the company and the new food.

After eating too much, Keith cleaned up while Lance played with Nova in the living room. Once done with the dishes, he plopped himself on his back next to Lance on the carpet. He stretched out his arms, a groan escaping without his consent.

“How are you feeling?”

“A lot better, actually.” Keith was in awe of how fast his sleep-exhausted brain recovered after getting some rest. 

“It’s almost like sleep is good for you or something,” Lance said with a smirk. Keith rolled his eyes and then rolled the rest of his body onto his stomach, propping himself directly in front of Nova. They stared at each other, Nova reaching for his dad and giving him a ‘kiss’— which was him basically crashing his open mouth against the other’s face and leaving a Nova-sized salivation imprint.

“Thank you, sir,” said Keith seriously before turning his head toward Lance. “I believe Allura taught him that.”

“Sounds like something she would do.” Lance helped Nova shift from one position to another. Nova was now propped in a sitting position and stared at his dad. The little guy’s hair stuck in all directions from the many times Lance affectionately messed with it. Keith attempted to smooth it down but failed. 

There was a lull in conversation as both men took in each other’s company. Then, they sat in comfortable silence as they kept Nova occupied, Lance sending him funny faces that he would attempt to copy. The baby seemed to enjoy scrunching his face at the others. 

Keith observed the other two interacting. A pang of guilt weighed on his shoulders. Lance had been there for well over 12 hours just to help Keith take care of Nova. He got Nova to stop crying, brought Keith dinner and snacks, watched Nova while he slept, brought him breakfast, and was still at his place watching his son. 

This was too much.

This was beyond a simple kind gesture. Pidge asking Lance to give Nova a quick check-up was a small gesture… But, calling Lance at the ass-crack of the morning to check on Nova and then have him stay the night to keep watching him while Keith rested… that was a huge gesture that would be impossible to repay. 

The guilt shifted from his shoulders down to his chest. It weighed heavy, shoveling itself into the space behind his sternum. It made him itch for an escape. In all honesty, it made him want to run.

It made him want to scoop up Nova and run. 

Run and run and run away from this feeling. 

This would have been a time when Keith would have disappeared. A time when he would have packed everything, declined incoming phone calls, and disappeared for a bit. A time when Keith could get away and not have to worry about anyone or anything. Detach himself from the people he feared would leave him. Don’t get too close because they’re bound to leave anyway.

But he knew that he couldn’t do that. Not anymore. No matter how badly his skin itched or how quickly the walls began to shrink in on him, he couldn’t. Not with Nova. He promised everyone that he wouldn’t do that anymore. 

But Lance. 

He was new. 

An unknown.

He couldn’t afford for himself and Nova to get attached to someone that would leave at the end of it all. Lance was someone who hadn’t had the chance to leave. Not yet…and Keith wasn’t going to give him the opportunity to do that.

He knew what he needed to do—cut this off. He needed to set a boundary. He was just Nova’s pediatrician. Pidge’s coworker. Nothing else. Keith needed to keep that distance. Maybe add some more. It would help at the end of it all...it just depended on whether or not he was strong enough to keep that distance.

If it weren’t for the way Keith’s name fell on the other’s tongue to shake him back to reality.

     “Keith? Are you alright?” Worry laced his words and was heavy in his gaze. Keith shook his head in response, his voice failing to work. 

If it weren’t for Lance’s gentle hand on his shoulder, grounding him.

     “You zone out?” He felt a soft hand on his shoulder, the pressure returning him to the present. Keith didn’t mean to flinch.

     “Yeah.” His voice felt small.

If it weren’t for his soft smile and steady words.

     “If it’s not a bother to you, I was wondering if I could stay a bit longer—” he scratched the back of his neck, “I know that you have assignments to finish…and I know that it would be easier to do if Nova was occupied by something.” He grabbed Nova’s hand as he attempted to lift himself up, “Also, I like spending time with you, so it would be nice….”

If it weren’t for all of him…maybe Keith would have been strong enough to push him away and create that distance he said he needed. 

     “That would be nice, yeah.”

     “Cool.”

     “Cool,” repeated Keith.

And boy, was Keith a weak man.

The rest of their time together flew by in a blur. Keith was able to complete his assignments, as well as assisted in eating the rest of the donuts alongside Lance. Keith would take occasional breaks to be with the other two boys, watch an episode of a show together, or take time to feed Nova. It was comforting knowing someone else was there.

It was almost 8 at night when they found themselves standing on the porch to say goodbye. Nova was in Keith’s arms, wrapped in a fluffy blanket with little spaceships and stars. Lance stood and watched as Keith closed the door behind him. 

It was a quiet night. Cool, but not freezing. It felt fitting for the calmness that had been present throughout the day.

“I definitely owe you,” said Keith after some time. 

Lance waved off Keith’s words with his hands in a flurry.

“Don’t even worry about it.”

He couldn’t not worry about it. The guy came over to help him at the ass-crack of night. And then stayed and watched nova the rest of the night and through the morning and evening. He got his son to stop crying and feel better…Keith owed him. This was something so kind. Too kind.

“Lance—”

“Seriously. Just… think of it as us just… hanging out. It was nice.”

He thought about it—and pouted. Nova smacked his cheek with his hand.

“It was nice. Thank you, again. I really can’t say that enough.” He meant it.

“Anytime…and maybe we can get coffee again soon. I heard that Nova is a big fan of caramel lattes.” He gave Nova a poke in the stomach. 

“He tell you that himself?”

“Yeah. Full sentences and everything. He is quite the linguist.”

Keith rolled his eyes…and because he seemed to not have any strength against the other, he replied, “Sure. Coffee would be nice.”

“Cool.” Lance smiled and was met with a small smile in return. Time seemed to slow as the two stood there, taking in the sight of each other. Nova squirmed in his dad’s arms.

“Cool,” repeated Keith, readjusting Nova in his arms.

Lance nodded. Keith nodded again because he didn’t know what else to do. So they continued to stare, the spell breaking at the sound of someone clearing their throat. Keith’s quickly turned to see his brother standing at the bottom of the stairs with an indiscernible look on his face. Keith cursed under his breath while Nova got excited to see his uncle appear.

“I texted you that I was coming over.”

“Sorry, I didn’t have my phone on me….” Nova’s light babbling signaled that he wanted to go with his uncle. 

“No worries,” he turned his attention toward the other man standing on the porch, “I’m Shiro. His brother.” He pointed at Keith.

Lance perked up in excitement and extended his hand to greet the other man, “Oh! It’s nice to meet you. I’m Lance—” something clicked in Shiro’s expression.

“—Oh, I’m glad I finally get to meet you,” said Shiro. Lance tilted his head in confusion and then subconsciously rubbed at his neck.

“Yeah, I’m a little scared of what Pidge or Allura have told you—”

“They haven’t told me much. I mostly know of you from when Keith was in college—” Lance gave Keith a questioning glance.

“—Oookay! Thank you again, Lance.” Lance nodded, glancing between the brothers, and headed down the steps toward the parking area. Once out of view, Shiro gave Keith the stupidest smile he had ever seen.

“Now…what was that?”

“Just…be quiet. Please.”

Shiro laughed a big, hearty laugh. From the belly and everything.

“Now that’s a reaction.”

“Shiro, if my son wasn’t in my arms, I would be using some bad words.”

“Wow, I’m terrified. Remind me to be scared when we get inside—”

Keith pushed the other inside rather aggressively. 

—

It had been a busy day so far at the hospital. Patient after patient, some came in for their monthly checkups, some for their children's shots, and others for more serious reasons. Patient after patient. In the past 3 hours, Lance wasn't alone once. Yet, despite the chaos, Lance felt at peace. 

He glanced at his phone and scrolled through the various messages. He had a couple from his siblings, a missed call from his dad, and some stupid reaction image from his niece. He quickly responded to her before his eyes darted to the newest message.

Keith Kogane: Wednesday is good. Let me know what time works best for you and your schedule. 

Lance laughed at the response because he texted in such a formal manner. He shot back a couple of messages and stared at the contact. Then, the sound of someone plopping themselves into one of his patient chairs and a sarcastic remark pulled him from his thoughts.

"I don't understand how you manage to look so happy this early in the morning."

"It's 11 o'clock?" Lance was almost too distracted to respond. 

"Still. What dumb shit have you been up to that has you smiling like that?"

"Oh, nothing. I just…had a good day yesterday. That's it." He leaned against one of the many cabinets in the room.

She nodded in response but immediately frowned at the device in her hand, releasing a sigh before typing away at the keyboard. Then, without meaning to, Lance saw the recipient of the text: Keith K. He quickly averted his eyes elsewhere. 

Pidge mumbled something to herself before continuing to type, her thumbs now blurry with speed. 

"Everything okay, Pidge?"

"Yeah. Keith finally answered my texts. He mentioned something about Nova but then went radio silent…which isn't anything new, I guess…." The last part of her sentence was said more to herself than anything.

"Well, Nova is feeling better."

"Nova was sick?" She had a tone in her voice that Lance had never heard before.

"Well, yes and no. Teething, but he's doing a lot better now…Keith said he called you?"

"Yeah, once." He was confused at the shift in the conversation.

"It's okay. They're both fine. I ended up staying the night to let Keith get some rest. I don't think he had slept at all that week." Lance laughed uneasily to try and ignore the piercing look in her eyes. She scanned his expression as if trying to find something she didn't know.

"…what?" asked Lance. He felt a little uneasy...if he was being honest.

"I'm just, surprised he called you…that guy could be bleeding out and he would be the one to drive himself to the hospital."

"I mean, I am a pediatrician—"

"—and I'm his family," she spat. She turned her face away from the other.

There was a palpable silence between the pair.

"I'm sorry. I'm honestly just… happy he trusts you, I guess." She let out a heavy breath. Lance knew that something was bothering her, despite her words.

"…are you sure everything's okay, P?"

"…Yeah," her phone began to ring, "I have to take this—" She answered the call right before exiting the room, hiding the ever-so-slight twitch in her brow. Lance watched her walk away before the small 'click' of the door was proof enough that she was gone.

Lance sat in silence, taken aback by the conversational whiplash he had just experienced. Pidge seemed…upset. 

Hurt. 

Hurt that she wasn't there for Nova. But, instead, he was there. Keith called Lance, of all the people. Granted, he was a pediatrician…but still. 

Events from the previous day played on repeat in his mind. The worry on Keith's face that quickly faded once Lance arrived. How small he looked while holding his crying son. The small smiles and the gentle touches between them all. 

The early morning at the Koganes felt fragile in his mind. He was scared that if he remembered the events in the incorrect order, it would mess with the overall memory itself.

He remembered Nova's initial cries and Keith's worried face. How he took Nova for a walk, which calmed him down tremendously. After that, Lance and Keith talked until Nova was out. He was so scared that if he set him down, the baby would begin to cry once more. So, of course, Lance offered to stay and watch Nova. He wouldn't have wanted to do anything else in the world. He wanted to keep the calmness in Keith's life as long as he could without intruding. 

And then, when it was finally calm, it felt like Lance himself was pushed into chaos. Once his eyes met the deep black of the abyss—the eyes that held the galaxies—Lance felt like he was floating. He felt a tug upward, away from the solid ground he was so familiar with… and loved it. He loved how it tugged at his core, threatening to uproot him altogether. 

Lance felt calm when the raging waters met the vastness of the galaxies that lived in Keith's eyes. He felt himself be lifted from the soil and thrown past the highest parts of the atmosphere. He felt himself be thrown into the vastness of the stars. That was the moment when Lance realized that he was lost. He wasn't in control anymore. He would spin, fall, and not have any control over where he landed…but he wasn't scared. He felt grounded, despite the lack of footing. 

He had never been scared when it came to space, for space was what wrapped Earth in a tight embrace, even though it was full of unknowns.

Chapter Text

Supernova

su·per·no·va (n): a star that suddenly increases greatly in brightness because of a catastrophic explosion that ejects most of its mass. It is the largest explosion that takes place in space. It is a powerful and luminous stellar explosion that can briefly outshine entire galaxies and radiate more energy than the sun will in its entire lifetime.

A blindingly bright star burst into view in the corner of the night sky—this brightness was not there a few hours ago…a few seconds ago, but now burned like a beacon. So astronomically bright, it would blind any onlooker for miles. 

The Astronaut turned his body away from the window. He shielded his eyes to avoid the light that threatened to completely overtake his eyesight. It was a useless gesture, for the light bled through the windows and through his eyelids, searing onto his eyes. It spewed into every crack and crevice it could find. 

Not a shadow in sight, for the light didn’t allow for any to exist. 

He cupped the palms of his hands and threw them over his eyes. He kept it that way for multiple counts. 

One minute.

Two minutes.

The only sounds came from the debris bouncing off the ship and the uneven breathing from the Pilot. Then, when he knew that the explosion no longer burned as bright, he yielded his hands and tried to blink away the spots that danced in his eyes. 

A whole minute of blinking.

Two minutes.

Three minutes.

His eyes fluttered uselessly. They couldn’t adjust…couldn’t ground themselves onto a single figure. One second he was surrounded by the familiar darkness; the blackness of the galaxies that felt like home—the next second drowned by the light. Light, usually a sign of hope, became a symbol of fear. It stole his primary sense and left him to fend for himself in the blackness that now rested in his sockets.

The minutes stretched longer, causing him to panic. The Astronaut was scared that he might be stuck like this permanently and forget what the world looked like. So scared that he would never be able to open his eyes and meet the familiarities the world once offered him.

He blinked until he could finally see the meager outline of the hands held in front of him. He blinked and blinked and blinked until his hands began to take their true form. He blinked until he could see beyond his two hands—until he could see the area surrounding him. 

His vision came back slowly. 

Blinking and blinking and blinking. 

The objects turned from outlines into an accurate picture of what they always looked like. His hands became his hands. His body was now visible. His seatbelt, feet, equipment, walls, and windows. He blinked and blinked and blinked until his vision fully repaired itself. 

He then surveyed the damage inside of his ship: the gravity somehow turned off, some of the equipment was loose, his lunch now floated above his head, and his monitors were now flashing to alert the Pilot of the mess outside. 

The galaxy outside now had a new set of stars floating around; debris scattered all around, creating its own cluster field that bumped and bruised the spacecraft.

A small light slowly made its way through the wreckage with help from the momentum of the initial explosion. It was moving through the debris and creating its own pathway, the alarms alerting it would eventually collide with the ship.

The Pilot changed his course to avoid a collision; however, his eyes stayed fixated on the small light that persisted in that little rock. He continued to let his gaze linger on its slowing movement. How did it continue to burn when it was no longer lit by anything in its surrounding area? How long would it burn before the space around it snuffed it out completely?

…and where would it end up?

On an impulse, he decided to investigate it for himself. He scrambled to properly put on his gear, latching everything in place. He double-checked his oxygen levels and remembered to get the grabber tool to help him with his extraction. He gave himself a quick pep-talk before exiting the safety of the ship and entering the unpredictable area called space. 

Once outside, he carefully pushed himself toward the direction of the small light, doing his best to avoid getting hit by any other particles from the wreckage. He twisted and turned to find himself close enough to the rock. The light now flickered and was in peril of extinguishing completely. 

As the Astronaut got closer, the more and more confused he became. The light took the shape of a tiny sprouting seed. He grabbed it with his glove and brought it up to his face for further examination, not understanding what was held out in front of him. 

The tiny seed then extended itself, curling a root around the Astronaut’s finger, and spreading a warmth onto his glove and throughout the rest of his body. It was a feeling he had never felt before…and he knew he couldn’t leave it there. 

He returned to the ship, stripping himself from the suffocating spacesuit, and turned on the gravity. He then rummaged for a container to hold the seedling, landing on a reusable coffee cup. He looked around some more, gathering instant coffee grounds, tea bags, vegetable scraps, and old salad leaves to create temporary soil. He then kept the whole thing moist with water...it was rough, but it would have to make do for the time being. 

It would have to sustain the bud until he could return to Earth. 

Earth.

The place the man had been detached from for years...but he knew he had no other choice. If he didn’t return, he knew that the sprout wouldn’t be able to grow properly. Without the right environment, it would soon retreat back into the seed and die. He didn’t have any time to wait. 

He didn’t have a reason to wait, either. He finally saw a supernova with his two eyes. He finally saw one of the unknowns that had fascinated him from a young age—when he would sit underneath the sky, wrapped in the safety of his blanket, and dream about traveling beyond Earth’s atmosphere.

He finally saw a supernova—the explosion of a star that had reached the end of its life; however, he wasn’t met with an ending. No conclusion. No sense of finality. 

This one was special, for this supernova only brought the beginning. 

—

Lance wasn't kidding. Not even a week later, Nova's first tooth broke through, and he now felt more and more like himself. Days turned into weeks and eventually formed into a whole month. A month filled with laughter and memories and milestones that Keith hoped he would never forget. 

Day by day, he continued to grow and grow. Nova learned to successfully and efficiently crawl at 7 months. He was crawling "like a madman," according to Lance, who also liked joking about how Nova would be up and running soon. Keith would laugh but always be sad about how fast the little guy grew up. It felt like Nova barely learned to roll over a week ago.

In addition to Nova's development, Keith finally found a permanent pediatrician (per Lance's recommendation). Doctor Plaxum, or Plax, for short—a very kind woman who wore her long, light blue hair in two long pigtails on the sides of her head. Nova immediately fell in love with her, and vice versa; however, he did cry a bit when he got his 8-month shots. Luckily, Lance and Pidge worked that day and could see him after. That was also the day the pair met Hunk for the first time, which added another person to the list of people who instantly fell in love with Nova.

Time moved on. Nova continued surprising Keith with how fast, strong, and intelligent he became every passing day. So curious and, to Keith's dismay, very daring. He had already been flirting with the idea of standing and walking at only 8 months. He would now push himself up from the crawling position and casually prop himself against anything sturdy. 

The ninth month passed just as fast. Nova's little pudgy legs were now beginning to stretch a bit as he continued to crawl and attempt to stand. He would push himself to exhaustion most nights, which was in Keith's favor. 

He was more social and loved babbling with everyone that gave him the time of day. He would crawl and play and babble more with each passing hour. Pidge absolutely adored how he learned to clap and point at things. He especially loved to point at her, which they all believed was because of her glasses. So he would point, and Pidge would bring herself closer to 'boop' her own nose with his little finger. She would then poke him in return, both finding it hilarious.

Allura adored the way he copied her. First, she would squeal, and then he would squeal. Then, she would say "ahh," and he would mimic her in the same tone. Everyone thought it was especially hilarious when he would copy some of her more 'British sounding' noises. 

As with the time, Keith's everyday life began to change alongside it. He typically hated breaks in routine. He usually hated inconsistency, but this was a welcomed change. Ever since the night Lance stayed over to help watch Nova, they made it a weekly thing to meet up and get coffee, go to lunch, or have dinner. Sometimes both lunch and dinner. Other times, they would spend the day exploring the town to try and find new places for Nova. So far, they had found a few new parks and playgrounds they knew Nova would like when he got a little older.

Lance accompanied the pair to different children's museums and parks and to the aquarium. Nova seemed to favor the aquarium due to the moving fish and cool colors. Keith loved how his curious little eyes would trace the swimming patterns of the fish and coo whenever they swam toward him. The little guy was especially enamored by the jellyfish tanks. 

Somedays, their newly formed friend group would meet at Pidge's place and mess around. They would order pizza, play games, or watch movies and talk over them. They (of course) always had an eye on Nova as he ventured through her apartment, always finding new things to grab and chew on. 

He would always crawl the same route: through the kitchen, into her bedroom, stop in the restroom, and then loop back to sit on the carpet next to his dad. The friends would cheer as he rounded back into the living room, never failing to make Keith and Nova break out in laughter. In all honesty, this kindness and warmth made Keith want to straight up sob, overwhelmed by how many people care for and love Nova. 

On the days Keith didn't feel like going out, he and Lance would order takeout, watch movies, or play a game. Sometimes Keith would work on schoolwork while Lance played with Nova. It didn't matter what they were doing; they just liked being together. Whenever they ended up at Lance's, he would always try and cook for the three of them and play fun music that got Nova to dance. He would dance, babble, coo, and laugh next to the cook, always curious about what he was doing. 

Sitting on the counter and watching the two of them was the best thing Keith could ask for. Nova would always end up in Lance's arms in-between steps, sometimes successfully roping Keith into dancing with them. During these times, he would swing Nova's pudgy arms to the beat and watch as a smile blossomed across his and Lance's faces. 

god he loved his smile.  

The smile that always seemed to catch Keith off guard with its sincerity. The smile kept him planted, grounded to his spot on the kitchen counter next to Nova. He watched as Lance free roamed the kitchen, enjoying whenever he orbited back to the two boys in between stirring, cooking, talking, and laughing. He watched as Lance switched between entertaining Nova with elaborate games of peek-a-boo and having Keith taste-test the food from the spatula. 

The smile is what slowly chipped away at Keith's exterior, always halting whenever Lance thought he would unintentionally cause the wall to crumble—always stopping when he thought he might be pushing with too much force. He always allowed Keith to chip away at it when ready, making it a point to never take more than Keith was willing to give. 

This comfortability allowed Keith to not pull away when the other man would grab his hand in excitement, lean his head against his shoulder when tired, or rest himself against the other's chest when he sat on the kitchen counter. 

It allowed him to welcome this affection and share many small moments meant only for the two of them. Moments that were small yet marked and intimate and felt safe in Keith's mind. And as more time passed, these small moments became commonplace, which helped nurture the growing relationship between them. 

The nature of this relationship was apparent to Keith. The longing glances and gentle touches between them were hard to ignore; however, neither said anything about it. Neither of them tried to label it. It was where Keith felt the most comfortable, and Lance never pushed for anything more. He simply took what Keith was comfortable giving. It allowed this relationship to grow into something sweet, soft, and kind.

He was acutely aware of how and when Lance had taken a spot in his and Nova's lives. He acknowledged this shift, yet he couldn't find it in himself to push it away. It felt too right. 

The way everything pieced together felt comfortable, far from the feeling of a blunt force. Instead, it felt as though a seamstress had hand sewn their fabrics together, gently pushing the needles through their cloth with each stitch. His red and purple quilt now had blues neatly sewn onto it. The colors now made it look like a proper galaxy. 

Keith was aware of Lance's expanding presence in their lives; however, he couldn't pinpoint when his feelings for the other began to morph into something too special and trusting to be labeled as a platonic friendship.

Perhaps it started after the continual mornings together at new coffee places. When they would talk about nothing for hours and hours until Lance had to leave in a hurry because time escaped them. Perhaps it started after the two men found themselves texting and calling to give little updates about their days apart (and send cute pictures of Nova). Maybe it was when he started mentally including Lance in all of their plans.

Or maybe it was when Keith always bought Lance's favorite chips, snacks, and candy whenever he stopped by the store. Or when Lance had extra toys and diapers and bottles and clothes for Nova neatly packed at his house. He made sure to have everything, so Keith never had to worry. 

It was as if Nova had a home away from home…and the implications scared Keith. It wasn't because of Lance specifically—it more had to do with the idea of Nova having a home ready at Pidge's, Shiro's, Allura's, Lance's, and Hunk's. It was the overwhelming idea that Nova had so many people to take him in without notice.

They were all so generous and kind and loving. It overwhelmed Keith because it was something that he never had when younger; when he was young and scared and alone and had wished he had a place that felt like home. When he wanted people to care about him so openly and express their love so explicitly. 

It reminded him of when he was younger. When a foster family would promise to take care of him and then proceed to break their promise, or when a foster home felt like it could become somewhat of a home, only for everything to change. Like clockwork. Whenever he allowed that comfortability to settle in… whenever he welcomed it in... the people would always leave. It was as though the people and places changed with the numbers on the calendar. 

There were too many instances when he felt welcome and began to grow his roots for him to be violently ripped from the soil. There were too many times when he ended up in a new garden and had to start all over again. Having to settle just to be uprooted was exhausting. So over time, he simply refused to get attached.

He couldn't be scared of being ripped from the soil if he never established roots in the first place. 

So now that he had these attachments, the wariness began to grow and grow with each passing day. This idea of settling into a newly established home built around many people triggered the alarms in Keith's head. No matter how much the father wanted to accept this kindness and warmth, ignoring the intrusive thoughts that yelled at him to run was difficult. To detach. To leave before he could be uprooted again.

He didn't want Nova to experience the deconstruction of a home. Instead, he wanted to shield Nova. He wanted to protect his son from the cruelties that the world had shown him at such a young age…so if he just pulled away, it would be easier for them to adjust when the people inevitably leave. 

Because people always leave.

His thoughts constantly yelled at him and kept him up at night, repeating the same mantra. And when he would fall asleep, he had nightmares that repeated the same thing:

The longer he lets them stay, the more it would hurt when they leave.

Because they're going to leave.

They always leave. 

On these days, he would wake up from these nightmares with a heaviness in his chest that tried to suffocate him. He would wake up sweaty, out of breath, tired, and clawing at his skin. He would claw an itch he couldn't scratch, no matter how hard he tried. That uncomfortable feeling would return and tempt Keith to run away—to run and run to avoid the possibility of ending up alone. 

On these days, Keith felt like he was trying to navigate through an asteroid belt blindfolded. He had all the right equipment and training but didn't have the sense that mattered the most. He was blind and couldn't distinguish between up and down. He felt blinded by the way his mind failed him. He felt overwhelmed by everything he lacked. 

And on these days, all he could do was sit and push through. He refused to call Shiro, Pidge, or Allura. Having to explain himself would only amplify this anxiety. Explaining how his skin itched or how his body begged him to run away would only make things worse. 

Keith promised that he would get better, but these were the days when he felt like he was walking backward. He felt like he was walking back to where he started in a worse state than before. He felt guilty for his lack of progress—for his lack of being better.

And he didn't want to announce his regression. Telling others meant that it was real... and he didn't want to see the disappointment in their faces as he told them. He was scared they wouldn't give him another chance after the last time.

His thoughts wandered and wandered. Wandered to the last time he felt this way. Wandered to the last time he felt suffocated. His mind jumped to the night Nova wouldn't stop crying, no matter how hard he tried. His thoughts seemed to focus on how he didn't want to call Shiro or Pidge because of his state—not because he didn't want them to be there for Nova. Keith just feared they would criticize the way he felt. The way he reacted. He feared that they would criticize him for not changing. They were the two people that knew how easy it was for him to run. 

But that night was different because he had reached out. It was surprising (even to him).

He called Lance. Keith could clearly remember the kind eyes and gentle smile that entered that night. It felt as if his calming presence alone could put out any fires that threatened to burn him completely. He remembered his relief when the other man didn't question his state, didn't comment on his appearance, his shaky hands, or his flighty eyes. 

Lance did not focus on how Keith's body buzzed for an escape, nor did he demand an explanation. Instead, Lance just let Keith feel. He simply helped him find stabilization—he helped him recalibrate his sensors and ensure he could continue his journey forward. 

He helped Keith continue his journey, even though he drifted slightly off-course. It did not matter to Lance, for he knew other ways to get where he was going. He knew there were different routes to safely return to Earth. 

…so that's how Keith found himself at Lance's doorstep one rainy night, with thoughts racing almost as fast as his heart. He was drenched and cold and tired; and not sure how much longer he could keep Nova and himself afloat. 

Chapter Text

Lance clocked out of work at 4:00pm sharp and returned home shortly after. Then, on a whim, he went for a quick run to shed some of the excess energy that lingered from the workday. He knew that the strain on his muscles and the outside breeze would do him some good after the day he had—It wasn't necessarily busy; it just felt like it dragged on. Each hour felt like its own individual year, every minute with its own seasons and holidays. 

He ran and ran, the neighborhood houses blurring together as his speed increased. He ran until his legs felt like jello and his chest felt heavy from his lack of oxygen. He ran until he felt the day's stress wash off his shoulders.

He ran until he felt the shy raindrops lightly fall onto his exposed skin. He stopped to examine the sky; it was now full of clouds, ready to release their tears. The rain grew stronger and stronger. They grew more confident with each passing second, now a pressing issue for the runner who was more than 10 minutes away from the safety of his house. 

He ran (now) with a purpose, attempting to avoid drowning in the oncoming storm. He made sure to be careful with his steps to avoid spraining an ankle… or totally eating shit in general. 

Lance successfully made it home safely, now drenched but so warm from running. His muscles were screaming at him to stop moving and breathe, but he knew that he had to warm himself up immediately. He welcomed the warmth of a shower and dry clothing before he cooked dinner and started a new load of laundry. He made sure that he was nice and warm before making sure his phone wasn't damaged by the water.

His warmth diminished when he realized that no one had contacted him back. He had hoped he would have at least heard back from his sister…

…she was probably busy.

Everyone he knew was probably busy. 

Pidge, Hunk, Keith. 

It made him a little sad, but he understood.

He knew Pidge and Hunk were swamped with work; unfortunately, the hospital had been a bit busier than usual. Pidge was so preoccupied she barely had time to give him a proper greeting whenever they ran into each other. Instead, she would just nod before continuing to obsess over her latest lab sample. Lance couldn't help but notice how the dark circles under her eyes had increased in size.

Hunk was always the busiest, regardless of the time of year—always having 3-4 patients to oversee each shift. He constantly checked in on patients, administered medication, and took blood. It also didn't help that the guy was magical when putting IVs. Every other nurse would call him over whenever they had a patient that had already been poked too many times in an attempt to start one. Hunk was now so busy he didn't even have time to take his break with Pidge or Lance. 

Even Keith had been pretty quiet on his end, which was unusual as of late. It had been almost two weeks since Lance had seen him and Nova and nearly a week since Lance had heard from him. He texted but didn't get any responses, which made him a bit nervous. Lance tried not to look too deep into this lack of communication; Keith had lectures, Nova to look after, and a job. Life was hard and took up a lot of time. He understood that he was a busy guy with a lot on his plate. Maybe he just lost track of time…

…but the dread of something else slowly plagued his thoughts. Something else rang in his mind, alerting him that something might be wrong. His thoughts kept jumping back to a conversation he had with Pidge months ago…but he couldn't remember exactly why. It was something about Keith, and she seemed surprised…? She seemed hurt after their conversation, too. He knew it had to do with Keith, but what was it?

"I'm just, surprised he called you…that guy could be bleeding out and he would be the one to drive himself to the hospital." 

Oh, right. Remembering made Lance worry even more…because what if he needed help but wasn't reaching out to him. What if he was too scared to reach out. Too afraid to rely on him.

Maybe he should call him?

No. 

He didn't want to push. He didn't want to pry. 

So he just continued with his night as normal. He put his clothes in the dryer, started watching another dumb show about god knows what, and enjoyed the sounds of the wind and rain pattering against the side of his house. 

The constant noise comforted Lance—like the world was stopping by to say hello, knocking to ask permission to enter. It was a friend that joined in on the song playing inside the house, adding extra beats to the music and dancing alongside the owner. The wind even chimed in with quick whistles to continue the melody. Lance moved to the rhythm and new beats, walking, singing, and talking around his house to make his night a little more fun.

Lance's ears perked at the sound of heavy footsteps full of water and mud splashing against the stairs of his stoop. One by one until a soft knock was heard at the front door. It was off-beat—a knock that didn't go along with the current song playing in the house yet sounded so familiar. Another knock, even quieter. If not for the porch light turning on, Lance would have ignored it. 

He slowly approached the door and peeked through the peephole to make sure it wasn't someone that could possibly kill him. But, of course, it wasn't; him immediately opening the door with worry overtaking all of his senses. 

It opened to the sight of a disarranged Keith on his doorstep. There he stood, drenched in rainwater like it had attacked him from every angle and left him to drown. Lance was startled by how his usual stoic expression was washed away by the rain, now replaced with an expression that looked completely foreign on his features. A look so fragile, Lance was scared it would shatter with the slightest of wind.

He looked down to see that his arms were only covered by the thin material of a t-shirt and his shaking hands had a firm grasp on a baby carrier covered by multiple layers of blankets and jackets to shield Nova from the harshness of the outside world. 

Lance reached out to bring the other man closer—desperation in the movement to warm him up. Desperate to wring out the worry that so evidently clung to his cold skin. Desperate to reach out and soothe away the fear etched in his dark eyes.

His warm hands made contact with the sopping clothing of the other, the biting cold causing them to retreat for a split second for fear of burning the other. Scared that when he placed his hand on his cheek and wiped away the hairs plastered to his wet skin, it might leave a trail of scars. Scared that when he pulled their foreheads together to smooth out the worry lines etched onto his skin, he might wince away at the searing heat. 

"You're freezing," whispered Lance, more to himself than anything, before carefully ushering the other inside to safety.

Once inside, he motioned to take the baby carrier from him and was immediately met with resistance. Then, as if by instinct, Keith protectively pulled the baby closer to him, fear in his eyes—scared that if he took his eye off of the baby, he would disappear in plain sight. Never to return. 

"He'll be okay. Go shower and change." He said it gently but with purpose.

Keith stood his ground and sent another protective look to his baby. Lance squeezed his arm reassuringly, dismissing him to change out of his clothes and warm himself up with a shower. Thankfully, after another nudge toward the bathroom, he hesitantly and wordlessly left the two to the silence of the entrance.

Lance turned his attention to the carrier holding Nova and began removing him from the safety of his cocoon. Although the outside dripped in rainwater, the baby inside radiated warmth and was protected by the multiple layers that shielded him from the frigid outside air—layers that consisted of blankets and a soaked leather jacket placed delicately on top.

Opening the carrier, Lance went blind from the dazzling smile that hit him. Nova smiled at Lance and giggled when he was lifted, oblivious to the storm threatening to wash away his father. Oblivious to the storm that pushed and pulled at his dad, throwing him around until he was battered and bruised and spit back into the ocean to drown. 

Even though he was safe and warm, Lance brought Nova to the other bathroom to give him a bath—he knew how much he loved being in the water. He would comb his fingers through the running water and smile up at Lance before he began splashing and splashing away. It triggered a hysterical laugh from the little guy, coming from his tummy and sounding almost like a scream. He would slap the water with his little hands and signal for the cup resting on the tub's ledge. Lance would oblige and pour water over his head and eyes.

He dried him off, moisturizing and drying his hair the best he could. He would giggle whenever he placed the towel over his head, giggling and giggling. Lance couldn't ignore how his smile hadn't left his face the whole time. His laughing eyes were as observant and happy as ever, which heavily contrasted the look on his father's face when he reentered the living room. 

Keith sat on the couch in a new set of clothes with damp hair. Lance quietly walked over and handed him the freshly bathed baby, who smiled at the sight of his dad. He smiled and squirmed until he laid comfortably against Keith, almost like he knew that the man needed something to ground him in place.

He left the two alone to venture to the kitchen and put some water on the stove to boil, pulling out two different packages of tea and some honey. He then grabbed another pot to cook some canned soup and prepped a new bottle for Nova. 

He rejoined the pair in the living room, carrying two mugs of tea in each hand and a bottle tucked at his side. He also took a second trip back to the kitchen to retrieve two bowls of soup, one normal-sized and the other smaller, with a blue baby spoon sticking out of it. 

Nova rested on Keith’s chest but soon took great interest in the bowls, squirming and shifting until he sat in Keith’s lap, ready to eat. The father also moved, so they were better situated to eat. He probably wanted to avoid spilling on one another. 

They began eating in silence. 

Lance sat on the opposite end of the long couch, hoping there was enough space for the other. He knew that Keith needed space. He wouldn’t dare push for anything he wasn’t willing to share, so he stayed quiet.

He knew that Keith would talk when he was ready. He trusted that the other would explain himself when the time was right. So in the meantime, Lance just kept an eye on the other. Watching the slight shifts in his brows whenever he began to think about something unpleasant. He observed the uncharacteristic expression that hung upon his face—an expression he had only seen once before, and even then, it looked wrong across his features. 

He looked scared. 

Lost.

The only time it faltered was when his eyes were directed at Nova. Whenever Nova hastily took another bite of soup offered to him. The expression faltered when they began playing a food-charades game for Keith to determine if Nova wanted another bite. 

Keith would lift up the spoon for Nova to open his mouth. He would do it again, but then Nova wouldn’t open his mouth, signaling that he didn’t want more. A silent question would pass between the pair before Keith would lower the spoon—all for the baby to reach for it immediately. He would eat another spoonful. This happened many times before he was actually done and just wanted his bottle.

It was their little dance, and Lance smiled at the sight. 

He smiled when he watched Keith’s expression finally settle on something gentler—something softer while Nova leaned across his chest and drank from the bottle. Something much more peaceful when Nova’s dark eyes began to blink slower and slower with time until they closed completely. 

His small snores echoed softly against Keith’s chest, a rhythmic hum after every inhale and exhale that seemingly dissipated Keith’s worry. The raindrops tapping the window fell in synch with his breaths. It was like the Earth was also trying to catch her breath. 

The father bent his head to gently rest his cheek against his little head. He looked lost in thought—staring straight out of the window, his eyes following a single rain droplet that raced down to the windowsill. He stared and stared until he looked away and found Lance’s eyes. He didn’t say anything right away, but Lance knew he wanted to. Lance knew there were words he wanted to let out, so he waited patiently and silently encouraged him until he was confident enough to utter a single sentence. 

A sentence that Lance knew was heavy on his tongue.

“I met Nova on a night like tonight.” Keith took a pause to collect his thoughts. 

Lance set down his tea, ready to give him all the time he needed. Even if it took all night. He knew that this was hard for him. He knew it was hard to talk openly about the night that changed his life, for Lance felt that this had less to do with the weather and more with the feelings that followed him. 

How on the night he met Nova, he must have faced the same storm that currently raged in his mind. 

—

The room was quiet when Keith opened his eyes that morning, shaded by the dark curtains that attempted to withhold any light that dared to have a peek inside. He rolled onto his side as he studied the intricate design of the curtain, his eyes following the creases and folds until they met the floor. He traced the grout in-between each tile until his gaze reached the edge of the bed. 

Uncomfortable in the position, he flipped onto his back and now had his dark eyes trained on the uneven ceiling. He blinked until his eyes could focus on the little bumps and grooves of the popcorn ceiling above. 

Blinking and blinking. 

Staring and staring until faces emerged in the nonsense and stared back. Some of them smiled, while others gave questioning glares. 

Their gazes looked too real.

Keith wanted them gone. 

He blinked and blinked, but they still looked at him with expectancy, waiting for direction. So he shut his eyes longer the next time. He shut them until he knew they had disappeared completely—knowing that they would only return if his brain willed them to. 

He kept them closed and laid in the darkness. 

The darkness that wasn't actually dark, for the curtains couldn't fully restrain the outside world. It was tainted by the sunlight the curtains failed to hold back; the sun rays that hugged the edges of the curtain and bled into his eyelids, despite them being closed. He shifted his body away from the window. A useless gesture, really. The light still pounded on his eyelids, begging to extract the darkness in his irises. 

Everything was still too bright. 

He blinked his closed eyes to try and hide from it all, but it felt like too much. Blinking felt like too much. 

It felt heavy. 

His eyelids were an unwanted weight that sunk further and further until he ached. 

He pressed his face into the palms of his hands in hopes of alleviating the feeling, but it did nothing. If anything, it added to it. Heat now spread across his body and everything touching his skin burned. His shirt was too tight, his pants hugged him wrong, and his socks suffocated him. The skin confining his bones felt sticky and itchy and heavy.

He felt like he couldn't breathe. 

He tried and tried, but even that felt heavy. It felt too suffocating. It felt like too much. 

He covered his eyes with his pillow to try and stop this from happening. To try and make him feel at ease, but it failed. No matter what, the pillow and the curtains couldn't fully restrain the world outside his bedroom. 

They couldn't fully restrain the sounds of the bustling city that leaked their way through the cracks in the walls and the sills of the windows. They couldn't fully restrain the sounds of cars swooshing by in impatience, people talking, and birds singing to alert the world that they were awake.

Every sound bounced against the walls, hitting everything in its path and banging against his head. Every sound felt like a needle jabbing directly into his ear and piercing his eardrum. Every sound grated its teeth against his skin and ripped away at him. Piece by piece. 

There were too many noises. Too many sounds. Even Keith's own voice echoed painfully in his mind, rattling and rattling until it felt like his brain would explode. He shifted the pillow to cover both of his eyes and ears—an attempt to hide from everything that followed him. To drown out the light and sounds that swirled around him—an attempt to hide from the thoughts that raced and raced.

But that was the worst part. He couldn't hide from himself. 

He couldn't ignore how his mind would latch onto every overwhelming thought and amplify it. Every thought was tainted by the anxieties plaguing his mind. 

Keith couldn't ignore how his mind made him acutely aware of the space he occupied. So aware of the number of items present in the room...aware of how much stuff he owned. He was painfully reminded of how many things tied him to the place—things that made it difficult to flee if needed. Running would be a lot harder with the sheer amount of belongings he now owned. 

He opened his eyes and scanned the room. The number of items littering his shelves, desks, and drawers made his skin itch even more. He had to fight the thoughts that told him to get up and throw it away—to grab trash bags and dump everything inside to never see any of it again...to leave it all behind. 

Leave everything behind.

Leave.

The flight response rang in his ears and alerted every muscle, yet he fought not to run. It made him restless, especially since he didn't have a place to run to. He was stuck and felt like he couldn't think or breathe or exist without his mind yelling at him. 

Leave everything behind. 

He deserved to be alone.

He deserved it all: the burn on his skin, the pain behind his eyes, the heaviness of his bones, and the rupturing pressure in his lungs. All of it. 

And he believed it. 

He believed it.

He was overwhelmed 

and exhausted 

and scared

and confused.

and everything just felt like too much.

He closed in on himself more.

and more 

and more, until he felt an intense ringing in his ears—

—and then instantly, nothing at all. 

An explosion of senses that led to a complete absence.

A disconnect.

The heaviness of his chest and the pressure on his eyes disappeared instantly. Instead, there was an absence of sensations that should have been there. A numbness. 

Keith knew the outside world still rang, but it was now muted. 

Quiet. 

It was always scary when this happened to him: this feeling of not feeling—this dissociation, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. 

So he continued to feel nothing. 

For days.

For weeks.

For months, his body and thoughts didn’t belong to him. His limbs were merely extensions that he no longer controlled. His mouth moved on its own when responding to people, failing to ignore the way his voice sounded foreign to his own ears. His thoughts were sporadic and frantic. The words didn’t string together correctly, making it difficult to articulate how he felt...what he was truly feeling. The thoughts just swirled and swirled and swirled until he had to escape his own reflection because he could not recognize himself.

He didn’t feel real.

His thoughts swirled and swirled, causing a headache with the force of them hitting his skull. That was the only thing he could feel, and he wished for a release. He wished for a way to make it stop.

He felt the only release would be slamming his head against a wall...because why was everything silent except for his brain? Why couldn’t he just feel normal? 

He slammed his hands onto his face and let out a groan of frustration. He rubbed his eyes until he gained enough confidence to look up and face the dozens of strangers who danced and pushed past him. The couple to his right was caught up in a conversation with one of the many bartenders. He looked down and saw that there was a drink placed on the counter. It was probably his. 

He shook his head to regain some sense and took a small sip, the alcohol burning his tongue and throat. Vodka. He took another sip to avoid the eyes of men and women who took an interest in him, signaling that he wanted to be left alone. The bartender gave him a kind look and motioned toward the drink. He shook his head to decline a refill. 

No more. 

He barely wanted to finish the liquid still left in the glass. 

He slid the glass away from himself before his body moved toward the restroom. Another guy was washing his hands when he entered. The sink turned off shortly after, but the man stayed. Keith glanced over to get a better look at him, focusing on the guy’s black hair and the way his dark eyes analyzed his own reflection. The stranger stared and stared and reached his hand up to touch his own face. 

Keith flinched at the movement and closed his eyes, turning to face forward. When he opened his eyes, he was met with the stranger’s reflection where his should be. The stranger shook his head at the same time Keith did. He lifted his hand at the same time, as well. 

Keith walked out of the restroom confused. 

He walked out of the establishment confused. He watched the buildings pass him and liked how the raindrops hit the concrete. He watched as the outside world pushed and pulled him further into the darkness of the night, the darkness of the shadows, and into the darkness of his own mind. The wind nipped at his clothes as they raced by and played with his hair, tousling it in every direction. He was pushed and pulled until he found himself standing in damp grass. 

This was a park.

Why was he at a park?

Keith scanned the area and squinted his eyes to focus on the desolate playground. The wind played on the swings, inviting the man to swing beside it. He obliged and sat on the wet plastic, quickly swinging along. A rusty screech echoed as he threw his weight back and forth, his momentum on the swing increasing. 

He became lighter and lighter, the gravity loosening its hold on him as he soared closer to the night sky. Closer and closer with every swing.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

His eyes trained themselves onto the night sky.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Ready for takeoff.

With one more hefty swing, he launched himself forward toward the stars, gravity vanishing in that instant. He was floating. He reached out and touched the stars. 

The stars. 

Even with the city lights clouding the view, they were breathtaking. Keith couldn’t look away. So, he stared and stared. He finally felt at peace—until he came crashing back to the planet. His feet touched down first, immediately followed by his whole body slipping and greeting the Earth with a hefty slap! 

Stillness followed.

White noise.

The silence of disbelief after crash-landing. 

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed with his back firmly pressed against the soggy wood chips. The darkness wrapped him in a tight embrace as he rested on the ground, looking up at the stars peeking through the dark clouds that had cried upon the city. 

It was calm.

Tranquil. 

Keith averted his eyes when the floodlights suddenly turned on above him—the playground now illuminated by artificial lighting. Unprepared for the sudden change, Keith was momentarily blind.

He blinked and blinked.

One minute.

Two minutes. 

He blinked and blinked the spots of light away. He soon began to see the outline of the hands held out in front of him, then the clouds, and then the stars. He had to make sure they returned to their place in the sky.

He blinked away the sky’s tears, now feeling their weight on his skin—somewhat feeling the cool kisses they left. He could now hear the rhythmic pitter-patter of the raindrops hitting the Earth around him. 

Pitter patter.

Pitter patter.

He closed his eyes to listen.

Pitter patter.

Pitter patter. 

Calm.

Tranquil.

—until he heard a small cry. 

He sat up and looked around.

Another cry.

Probably a cat, thought Keith.

…but something about it didn’t sit right with him. It didn’t sound right. 

Another cry.

Louder this time—more urgent. 

A warning signal.

Oh god, oh god, oh god.

Keith’s footsteps pounded heavily against the wet Earth, desperate to find the source of the sound. He walked around, playing a single-player game of hot-and-cold, the cries echoing louder the closer he got.

Closer and closer until he reached a medium-sized cardboard box with blankets carefully placed on top of it. The soaked blankets layered themselves over the source of the cries—the smallest thing Keith had ever seen. 

A baby.

Keith froze.

What the fuck.

What the actual fuck.

It was a human baby—a baby so tiny that Keith wasn’t even sure they were real. He stared down at the little guy and was met with dark, watery eyes. The baby searched the other’s features, unable to recognize the stranger in front of him. And Keith knew that look. He’d seen it over and over again when baby after baby was dropped off at his old “Children’s Refuge Center. 

Keith bit back a frown. 

“Hi, little guy.”

A small cry escaped their mouth, breaking his heart into a million pieces. He didn’t know what to do. The baby reached for the adult. Keith offered his finger, which was soon enveloped by the warmth of the chubby little hand against his own. 

It stunned him. 

This warmth was a spark to his senses, a complete jump-start of feeling—it was like an explosion happened, causing all of his senses to fully recover, all at once. 

He could feel again. 

The raindrops now hit him full force—and he could hear as the cars flew down the slick streets, splashing and screeching, eager to get to their destination. He touched his face, shocked when his rough hand made clear contact, grounding him to his body.

He was real.

He was living and breathing.

He was now aware of how cold his hands were, how he could barely feel the tips of his fingers and toes. The strong winds weren’t helping the matter. He looked down at his body and saw that he was completely soaked and very aware of the wet socks clinging to his feet. 

Now with his senses intact, he could recognize the streets surrounding him. He was at a park near his condo—a decent walk, but doable. The blankets wrapped around the baby were completely dry; however, the box was soaked and falling apart. Keith wasn’t sure the cardboard would last another 10 minutes in this rain. So he had to be quick.

He picked up the child and pulled him underneath his jacket, fully shielding him from the rain as they walked against the wind and rain. He was small enough to hold with one hand—so he used his other to pull out his phone.  

Who should he contact? Shiro?

He clicked to their last texts, frowning when he read over their last conversation about a month ago. He then clicked out and onto Katie’s contact. 

Please answer.

It went to voicemail, leaving him to stare blankly at the large 1:42 AM on his lock screen.

Fuck.

He called again. 

She picked up almost immediately. 

“What do you want—” 

“—I have a baby.”

Silence. 

“I found him in the park.” 

Silence. 

Only the wind responded, it whistling loud and clear.

“A-are you still there?” 

Silence.

His quick footsteps smacked the wet ground. 

“Katie, please. I don’t know what to do.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” was all she said before the line went dead. 

With one foot after the other (and securely fastening the baby to his chest), Keith returned to his place in a record-breaking time. He stumbled into the warmth trapped inside, walking in circles until he found everything he needed: new clothes, blankets, a hairdryer, and a big bowl in the cupboard to bathe the little guy in. 

Not knowing what else to do, he swaddled the child in one of his t-shirts and blanket. He bounced him in his arms as he paced back and forth, never knowing whether the baby was warmed up or if he was feeling better at all…Keith soon found himself praying to any god that would listen. 

Just for a simple answer. 

Anything.

He pulled out his phone and typed a couple of questions into the search bar, instantly forming a love-hate relationship with Google.com. It seemed to be a website that did not provide a simple answer for anything. He wanted to pull his hair out over the millions of contradictions between different parenting forums, blogs, and websites that popped up. 

Keith continued to rock the baby in his arms until Katie showed up with a million bags slinging from her arms. He felt his worry deflate as he rummaged through them, finding that they were filled with formula, empty bottles, diapers, clothes, toys, medicine, and a car seat. The bags were filled with things he would never have thought to grab. He was so thankful.

She returned from the kitchen with a freshly heated bottle and motioned it toward him. He accepted and fed the baby until he was fast asleep, secure inside a pillow-barricaded area on Keith’s stripped bed. He watched the small figure breathe, transfixed by how small he looked lying there. He looked like one little star against a whole galaxy. 

He exited the room and felt an uncomfortable shift in the air. He picked up a random blanket on the couch and brought it to the kitchen, where he found Katie. She glowered at him, her soft smile long gone as she watched his movements with scrunched eyebrows and a locked glare.

This look pushed him straight onto the ground. 

She was angry. 

He asked her why. 

She gave him an answer. 

And another answer. 

She gave him many answers and expressed many worries and concerns, every word driving a hedge in their roots. Every word dug a shovel further and further into the soil between them, inevitably uprooting them completely.

She left immediately after, leaving a ghost in her wake. 

Keith felt like he had lost her.

And after that, everything in his life shifted to fit Nova. He had to work really hard to make it work. And did he work—Keith knew he would keep the baby after that night. He couldn’t bear the idea of the baby being in the system, waiting for a home that might never come. 

Especially when Keith could be that home for him. He had the means.

Keith soon met with Shiro, and then Allura, and then Katie (after some time). He had their support. They all stood by him in court, advocating for him and his ability to raise Nova. He legally adopted him not too long after. 

Despite this, he was still so scared. His family life was far from perfect. He wasn’t raised by a traditional family and didn’t have a basis on what a ‘good’ parent should be doing. So he was scared of messing everything up…

This also didn’t include the other thing that scared him—the thought of being tied down to the Earth, the fear of roots entangling his arms and legs and tethering him to Earth forever. Pulling and pulling, an unwanted anchor that wouldn’t allow him to return to the stars. 

Those ties freaked him out—the roots and vines that anchored him to Shiro, Katie, and now Nova. He was scared of how Shiro’s sturdy vines had latched onto him when he was younger and gave him an immovable foundation. He worried that if he settled more of his roots into it, it would cause it to crack. 

And then, when he was introduced to Katie a year or two later and saw how her leaves had flourished into bundles and bundles of flowers, he only felt even more alone. The longer he stared at her burgeoning shrubbery, the more his feelings of inadequacy grew. 

He could only stare as her leaves reached insane heights, kissing the sky. He saw how their grandeur and splendor bled into her relationships, how her roots were strong and could effortlessly entangle themselves with others. How it was so easy for her to connect with Shiro—so much easier and faster than he could. 

He was jealous. 

He was jealous of how easily she could dig herself into the soft soil and connect with everything it touched. Jealous of how nature responded to her as if she created it with her own unique code. It was like breathing to her. 

An in and out.

An up and around.

Slowly wrapping her own roots around his, despite his resistance. Over time, Keith gradually accepted his fate and allowed himself to grow leaves and flowers alongside her. His jealousy soon washed away and was replaced with gratefulness. Grateful that she gave him a chance—grateful that their roots were now intertwined and together.

However, after months of constant disappearances, he noticed how Katie began to retreat. How her leaves started to curl in on themselves, no longer reaching toward him but now shielding herself. Protecting her own roots from another heartbreak. Protecting a part of her leaves that were shorter than the rest—signifying another broken relationship she had experienced. At that moment, Keith realized that she wasn’t angry that night. She was scared—scared of losing another person she cared about. 

So after Katie stormed out on the night they met Nova, Keith knew she just needed time. He knew that their once flourishing leaves were now browned and wilted, but he trusted that they would grow back. They just needed to cut off what was dead, and both be willing to wait for them to grow back.

And they did. 

They all did.

Shiro and Katie and Keith.

They all patiently waited for time to heal what was destroyed in that storm; however, they never forget its significance. Yes, that storm tore at their roots, but it also brought something precious into their lives.

For that storm, that explosion, brought them Nova…and how could they ever regret that?

—

Lance picked himself off the couch to wash all the dishes, scooping up the empty bottle on the coffee table. He lathered the sponge before scrubbing at the cups, bowls, spoons, and forks, chuckling to himself when he picked up Nova’s blue baby spoon. 

He lathered and scrubbed away at the dishes, also scrubbing at the thoughts that lingered in his mind—thoughts about the story of Nova and Keith. How their unusual meeting started so unsteady but turned into something so gentle and sturdy. It turned into a home with a strong foundation, despite the shaky terrain it was built upon. Lance thought Keith and Nova looked so similar with their vulnerability out in the open—with their freshly sprouted leaves intertwined, growing, and blooming together.

He continued to scrub away the worries that once pricked at his skin, them now washing away with the water. He hummed a soft melody to accompany the newfound silence. The same song his dad would hum while cooking with his mom, the same song Lance and his brother would hum while riding their bikes along the empty street. The same song his family would hum throughout family vacations. 

A song of family, of togetherness, with each member singing along to the same song; however, dancing in their own unique way. Everyone had their own steps and turns but always stepped in sync. They danced along to a melody that sounded like the familiar waves returning to the shore. 

An in and out.

A rise and fall as the tide breathed in each wave and exhaled in perfect rhythm. 

The water stopped.

One by one, each dish was dried and put in its proper place. The rain slowly came to a stop with the faucet, the stray raindrops fighting for a spot on the ground—letting go from the rooftops, jumping off of windshield wipers, and racing their way to the street gutters. Dripping down until they huddled comfortably in their own pools for cars to splash and people to stomp through.

The outside was quiet and calm, matching the stillness that now rested in the living room. Lance’s lips upturned at the sight of the two of them, Nova and Keith, both fast asleep. Nova rested comfortably against the other in a tight hug. The worry lines that once painted his features were now smoothed out and replaced with warmness. His strained expression dissipated with the rain. 

Lance grabbed a blanket from across the room and draped it over the two sleeping boys, his eyes lingering on the gentleness of the scene. He reached down and gave Nova a quick kiss on the head before raising the blanket to cover the both of them, noticing how it didn’t hide the offset rhythm of their breaths that soon blended together. 

For every inhale, Nova took two small ones, creating a lovely song—a beautiful melody that they continued deep into the night. 

An in and out. 

A rise and fall. 

The crashing of waves on the shore.

Lance draped a blanket over himself before closing his eyes, soon giving into the pull of sleep that dragged him under the waves of the familiar song. 

Chapter Text

1:38 AM. 

It had been a long night. 

A long day, for that matter—hours full of analyzing patient samples and swabs to ensure they were healthy enough to receive specific treatments. Hours upon hours checking and double checking that certain patients' blood sugar levels and white blood cell counts were corrected before Pidge could comfortably slouch into her lab chair for the rest of her shift.

In her opinion, the work of a medical laboratory scientist was easy, being responsible for analyzing a variety of biological specimens from various people: In-patients, out-patients, cancer patients, and children. Then, all she had to do was analyze and report the findings. Once completed, she could dive into her vaccination research and medicinal studies—poking and prodding at white blood cells and creating her own laboratory-made antibodies. 

Done and done. Very structured. 

Clear cut. 

The way she liked it.

In her opinion, the work of a medical laboratory scientist was easy. Yet, she couldn't ignore the discrepancies in her social skills when reporting such findings—she couldn't ignore the discrepancies in comprehension when explaining what exactly was happening to someone on the cell level. Some days it felt as if some patients held personal vendettas above her and plotted against her sanity. Like they were robots programmed with the sole purpose of getting under her skin and hitting a nerve, making her eye twitch. 

These 'headache patients'—what Pidge liked to call them—were ever-present during this particular shift. The patients would refuse to believe her diagnosis in every room she entered. They would shake their heads in disbelief before requesting for another technician with 'more experience' to step in, finding herself wishing that she could break her contract and smack some sense into them. If not requesting other technicians, the patients would ask questions, even though the answers were laid out in front of them in the reports. 

The growing headache gnawed at her skull, hoping another sip of her hospital coffee would help. Unfortunately, it was her fourth cup, and at this point, it didn't taste like anything. Her taste buds were fried along with her brain. 

1 more hour, she thought. 

She took another sip of the coffee, ignoring the faint buzz of her phone in her lab coat. Probably another bot trying to steal her identity. She had been getting a lot of those spam calls recently…and wondered if there was a way to completely stop them from calling. But, of course, she would need several different sources to fully track where they came from—not including the different types of spam and whether or not they were prerecorded…

She rolled her eyes when another call rang in. This time, she pulled her phone out of her pocket, eyes widening when she read the contact's name. 

Incoming Call: Keith K.

That was…unexpected, to say the least. Pidge hadn't heard from him in over 2 months—maybe even 3 months now. She couldn't push away the anger, the hurt, and the worry that bubbled in her chest as she thought about the unanswered texts and declined calls—how he blocked her out completely. Pidge tightened the grip on her phone and watched it vibrate a second time, unable to push these emotions away. She still hurt.

…but Keith wouldn't call without reason. He wasn't known to do that, especially at this hour. Irritation bloomed in her chest, alongside fear and worry.

Fuck. 

She answered the call quickly, her voice harsh, a bite to each word.

"What do you want—" She didn't even get to finish her question. 

"I have a baby," said Keith. 

Quick. 

So quick, the words didn't register. It was like someone unplugged the wires in her brain, them now hanging uselessly and knocking against her skull. Tapping and tapping, asking, "Is anyone in there?" She shook her head to gather herself. 

He has a baby? …a human one? She didn't know how to take in this information. How on Earth did he end up with a baby?—Okay, she knew the possible ways he could acquire one, but none of them added up at the current moment. 

She closed her eyes to focus. She found herself doing this whenever one of her Differential Counters showed a bright red ERROR on the display screen or when the centrifuge didn't spin the way she knew it should. Of course, she knew whenever there was something wrong with the machines, but this…

In any other scenario, she would simply disassemble the machines to get a clearer view of the malfunction—she would remove the top layer and fiddle with the wires until she found the root of the problem. She knew that there was a fix. There were instructions and how-tos of how to rewire the code. She could even crack open a textbook to find a solution if the internet failed. 

It was something she was good at. It calmed her to always know that there were steps and solutions to the trickiest of problems…but the newest one was way beyond her expertise. She was good with machines. With technology. With biology. It came easy to her.

But people…people were not in her area of expertise. People were hard to read—none came with an owner's manual. They were known to send mixed signals and break down, even when all their parts and gears functioned properly. It was a headache to understand.

—and now with Keith. Pidge didn't know what he was thinking. There was no way to know what he was thinking unless he verbalized it himself. No book or website could aid her in this situation…there weren't instruction pages that explained which wire to plug or which toggle to push. 

All she knew was that he had called her after 3 months. He reached out. He responded—and she hated the sense of relief that washed over her when she heard his voice. She hated that after all of this time left in the dark…after all the hurt, anger, and worry he put her through, her heart still ached to have her family back. 

"A-are you still there?" She nodded wordlessly, still unable to find words. She could hear a mixture of sounds coming from the other side; heavy breathing, pounding footsteps, rain hitting concrete, and light crying.

"Katie, please. I don't know what to do." 

A whisper. The most delicate sentence Pidge had ever heard from him. 

A light, 'fuck’ was said under her breath as she looked around to find her keys, "I'll be there as soon as I can." She hung up immediately. She slumped further into her chair, pushing her glasses over her head and rubbing at her heavy eyes. 

It had been a long day.

She rubbed her eyes while she stood at Keith’s door, looking over the various items in the shopping bags. Formula, clothes, diapers, wipes, toys—everything the internet told her to buy resting inside, ready to be used. When the door opened, she was instantly hit with the nervous energy that brewed inside. She braced herself after the initial strike and pushed through, not missing the slight smile and relieved breath in her peripheral as she passed Keith.

She placed the bags onto the counter, her eyes wandering around the open space until they locked onto the tiny movement on the couch. The baby wriggled their arms and hands, unable to contain a soft whimper. As she walked closer, her eyes widened at his size. His little hands and body, his shallow breaths, his innocent eyes. He was so tiny yet had such a strong aura about him.

She couldn’t believe that he was real.

She carefully picked him up and held him in her arms. So delicate, so fragile. She carried him like one of her samples—ever-so-carefully transporting it from the swabs into the petri dish to be further analyzed. Except when she looked into the microscope, expectant eyes looked back—almost like he was expecting to see someone he used to know. Her heart ached—especially because his dark eyes reminded her of the other man in the room.

For the first time of the night, she looked over to him, watching how his own eyes never left the baby; a stupidly soft smile and expression set on his face, one Pidge had never seen laid out so explicitly on his features before.

She handed him the baby before unpacking all the bags and laying every item on the counter. She scanned all of the clothing she bought, realizing that the smallest size she purchased would still be too big. She bought onesies and sweaters in every size up to 12 months because she didn't know how old the baby was. Keith said the kid was small, but she didn’t expect him to be that small. If she had to guess, he was probably 2 months old…and the smallest size she had was 4 months. 

She rubbed her eyes again. 

She threw the clothes onto the couch closest to where the pair now stood, motioning for Keith to put them to use. He responded with a gracious smile. She continued to move about the kitchen, washing the new bottles before mixing the formula and water.

'Heat it up for 30 seconds. Then, shake the bottle before testing the temperature on your skin. Remember: If the temperature is too hot for you, it is definitely too hot for the baby!' repeated Pidge's brain to herself. Those were just a few tips from some parenting forum she found while frantically making her way through the baby section in Target. At least this human came with some instructions. 

She walked up to Keith and handed him the freshly made bottle, her eyes lingering on the tiny form in his arms that was now sporting a too-big onesie. His little hands were clenched into tight fists as he swung his arms around, Keith patiently maneuvering to accommodate his movements until they were both comfortable. 

“Thank you.” She nodded, dismissing herself to clean up the kitchen. She stuffed things in the cupboards and washed some of the dishes left in the sink. She wiped at the counter, nudging some of the spilled formula powder into a bigger pile for her to clean up. Pidge swept the powder with the side of one hand. She swept until she pushed it off the counter into her other, some of it sticking to and itching her skin. 

She wiped and wiped, having to stop and rub away the tears that spilled from her eyes. 

This was hard. 

She couldn’t hide how angry she was. How angry and scared and sad and hurt Keith made her feel. Mad at how she let him do that for so long. 

She wiped again to clear her eyes, hoping she could push down all the conflicting emotions that bubbled in her chest and threatened to explode. 

She let out a breath. 

A similar breath—an echo—bounced back from the doorway of Keith’s bedroom, him now entering the lit-up area of the kitchen. He set the [now] empty bottle into the sink, unscrewing the lid and letting the water fall into it. He swirled it in a steady circle to wash away all of the formula that clung to the bottle collar, air vent, and teat. He watched the water wash it all away. She watched from behind, observing how his breathing had finally steadied and how his shoulders sagged further with every exhale. 

He eventually turned around and surveyed his home, eyes bouncing from one place to another. Pidge stayed standing where she was, refusing to wither… refusing to falter under the weight of his eyes on hers. She stared, noting the discomfort that presented itself once he had to wade in the palpable silence between them. 

He looked away.

She cleared her throat.

“…what?” asked Keith carefully.

“Don’t ‘what’ me.” 

He didn’t give a response, which was a response in and of itself. 

“Keith. I don’t hear from you in 3 fucking months and you just show up with a baby? Are you out of your fucking mind?” It was no louder than a whisper, but it held the same weight as if she yelled.

“I’m sorry. I was busy.”

“Too busy to answer my calls? My texts? Too busy to respond to Shiro? Allura?”

“Yes.”

“Bullshit.” He looked away. 

This time, there was a longer pause because Pidge couldn’t think of anything to say. Unable to think of anything to do to calm herself down. She turned and paced in the living room, her glasses sitting on her messy hair. 

What do people do in this situation? She mentally scrolled through the list of movies she had seen, searching and searching for a movie with a similar problem...searching for a blueprint she could refer to for this unfamiliar situation. Searching for anything for reference. Anything to instruct her through these unfamiliar emotions and uncomfortable conversations. 

She let out another long sigh, her glasses now residing on the bridge of her nose and her fingers massaging her temples. Logically, this whole situation didn’t make sense…It didn't make sense how Keith ended up finding a baby at one in the morning on a random Tuesday after he was loitering at some playground. How Keith, of all people, probably took one look at the baby and saw himself. How it was likely that he immediately knew that he would keep the baby in his care, ensuring his protection. 

Okay, maybe it made a little sense, but it still was a stupid situation, regardless. It was stupid of Keith to just jump into it like everything else. He wasn’t thinking long-term. He wasn’t thinking about the huge adjustments that would need to be made to support the kid—to raise the kid. Keith had always been aware of the cruelties of the world, but that doesn’t guarantee that he can avoid them altogether. 

After all, he can’t protect the baby from himself.

“Are you going to keep him?” asked Pidge. The ‘yes’ was said without hesitation.

“He’s going to need you everyday, y’know.”

“and what’s that supposed to mean?” His voice grew defensive. 

“It means that you have to be there for him every day. There aren’t any days when you can disappear. You can’t leave him.”

“I’m not going to leave him.” He looked at her.

“Well, how do you know that?”

“—why do you keep saying that? I get it—I’ve been a shitty person—no, a shitty friend to you and Shiro and Allura, but it doesn’t mean that I can’t get better. Why are you being to persistent about this?”

“You know better than anyone how it feels to be left. If you don’t change, the kid might feel like you’re someone who will inevitably leave him one day. He might think you’re not a permanent figure that he can believe in. He might not believe that you’re someone he can trust. That’s not fair to him. That’s not fair to anyone…”

“You don’t think I know that?” 

“With your track record, I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t! It’s one thing to know, but…” her voice trailed with the unfinished thought. “You actually have to make an effort with him. You can’t leave him like you do the rest of us.”

“god, will you give it up? I won’t leave him! Why do you sound so sure that I will?” She walked farther into the living room, abandoning the other in the kitchen with his words.

He followed her, continuing, “I’m sorry, okay?” What else do you want me to say? This whole time—this recovery—has been hard for me. Why don’t you understand that?”

The anger in her chest rose to a violent boil.

It didn’t make sense. 

She couldn’t understand. 

She removed his SIM card. She looked at his wiring and saw all the ways in which he could fix himself. They saw his wires wrapped and twisted in the wrong directions and the easy way to detangle them. It was so clear. So easy, yet she watched how Keith’s hands fidgeted with the tools in his hands…hesitating to act.

She didn’t understand how he could acknowledge the problem but still not improve…especially since she told him how to fix it. Over and over again. Just talk to her. Don’t leave her hanging. Don’t cut her off, but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t stop running away. He couldn’t stop his instinct to leave…and it didn’t make sense.

“Hard? How on earth is it hard? Explain it to me! You know exactly what to change. You know what’s causing your little bouts of disappearances. You know why you run off and push us all away. Why can’t you just fix it?” 

“I-” he paused to compose himself, “I have been putting every effort toward ‘fixing’ myself…and the baby,” he motioned toward his bedroom, “I-if I’m keeping him, I know that I need to be better. I will. For him.” The last part was said more to himself than anything, like a promise.

For him. 

For the baby Keith had known for 3 hours. Not for the people that have been in his life for almost 10 years. No, of course not. That would have been silly. Too much to ask, in her opinion.

“Are you fucking serious?” The pacing returned.

“Why would I be joking?”

“For him?—the baby that you just found? Fuck, Keith,” she stood still, “why couldn’t you be better for me? For Shiro—for us? It took finding a fucking baby to try and get better?” There was a desperation in her voice, the vibrations tightening her throat and tingling her eyes.

Why couldn’t they be enough? Why couldn’t they be an important enough reason to stay?

“I’m sorry—I don’t know what else to say.” He rubbed at his eyes.

“You don’t have to say anything. Just show us that you’ll stop running. From Shiro. Allura. From me. We’re your family…just promise that you’ll stay.” Her heart ached.

“You know that I can’t promise that.”

“Just fucking show us that you can! That’s all you have to do!”

“Katie. I am trying—”

“Well try harder! I’m so fucking tired of waiting for you to come back. I wait and wait and I-i’m so goddamn worried and it’s like you don’t even see how much it affects all of us!”

“I never asked for you to worry—”

“That comes with the friendship! You can’t make it go away…it just happens now.” She folded her arms and let out an irritated huff before speaking again, “It’s like you weren’t even trying to get better before tonight….” 

This was said as an afterthought, a jab thrown over her shoulder. A little quip that felt right to say at the moment. 

“How many times do I have to tell you that I am fucking trying, Katie!?” She stepped back, the words seating into her brain and ringing in her ears. It was the loudest she had heard him speak…the first (and only) time she had ever heard him yell. It scared her. 

“I am working on myself. I’ve gone to therapy. I’ve made amends with some of the emotions and feelings that used to keep me up at night. I’ve opened up about my mom. My dad. The stupid foster families and group homes I was forced to live in. I try and push myself to be more open to other people. To you. To Shiro. Hell, I actually text you guys when I know I might get stuck in my head…and that isn’t something that is necessarily easy for me.”

He looked at her now, “So, I swear to god, don’t say that I'm not trying. I know I slip up from time to time, but don’t you dare say that I am not getting better because I am. I thought it was obvious.”

“Obviously it wasn’t!”

“How was I supposed to know that?”

“I don’t know, maybe try reading the fucking room every once in a while? Or, better yet, actually fixing the problems that are laid out in front of you—” 

“Oh, great, yeah, perfect. I’ll get right on that. I forgot that every problem can be solved with some light reading…or research…y’know, like your little science projects!” He stormed back into the kitchen. Pidge watched as he sat down at the dining table and closed his eyes. 

“Keith. Shiro and I—we’re here for you. We’ve always been here for you. For years—but…you keep pushing us away….” She looked away from him, "Why can’t you just trust us?”

“I trust you guys.”

“You clearly don’t. If you did, you would stop run—”

“—that’s not fair.”

“Do you know what’s not fair? Shiro and I standing around, twiddling our thumbs, and waiting for you to get yourself together after months of cutting us off…and then jumping back into our lives like nothing happened—with no explanation…and then I have to try and find some semblance of normalcy and pretend I didn’t hurt everyday when you were god-knows-where doing god-knows-what. I just have to keep pretending and pretending until the next time you disappear! It is a never ending cycle and it’s been like that for years! Every. Single. Time…and you have never once apologized…That’s not fucking fair, Keith!”

He didn’t respond. 

“You just push us away. Don’t you ever think that one day we might not be here when you get back?” She wiped away another tear that burned at her skin.

“Then don’t be,” he whispered. Pidge didn’t hear him.

“What?”

“Stop waiting for me, then, if it’s such a fucking hassle. Leave for all I care!” He said the last part to the wall behind Pidge, voice cracking. He didn’t mean it.

“Y’know what, maybe I will! Maybe everyone that left you had a good fucking reason to!” She didn’t mean it.

Keith took a step away from her, eyes wide, “w-what?” 

It was like he had been burned with how quickly he withdrew himself. The once present fire in his eyes diminished instantly—a look of hurt and fear running across his features before neutralizing into stone; his face was now utterly devoid of all emotion. 

He was blank. 

Robotic.

His controls were shutting down, going into an automatic shutoff that led him to completely close himself off from any possible external control. Pidge looked down helplessly at his programming, continuing a lame attempt at overriding the system…to do anything that could fix the situation. 

“I need you to leave.” 

“Wait—”

“Thank you for the supplies.”

“Keith—” she stepped forward. 

“—don’t,” he warned, stepping back.

She watched his stance turn defensive and rigid. This was the first time she had truly seen him retreat back to his old self—empty eyes, tense shoulders, a closed-off body that declined any invitation to get closer. She was intimidated, and it felt wrong. Everything about him felt wrong, but the little voice in her head reminded her that he had once held himself like that. All the time, she had just failed to remember because of how much he had grown. 

Leave.

She did. 

Everything after blurred together into an unfocused picture. Confusing thoughts and sensations bombarded her as she walked to her car. The rain beat down on her cheeks now. The rain was a steady flow that washed her past her house and onto the porch with two concerned, friendly faces. 

Hunk and Shay. 

Hunk disappeared while his wife gently nudged Pidge inside, asking if she was cold and needed a blanket. Pidge looked down and touched her dry clothes. Weird. She thought it had been raining. She politely declined before laying on their couch, Hunk reentering the room soon after with some warm breakfast rolls. Shay laid next to her, motioning for her to rest her head on her lap. Pidge took a long breath, relaxing in the warmth of the hands playing with her hair and the inviting smell of the food. She told herself not to cry…but she was never one to follow orders.

She lost it.

A sob escaped her lips, hitting her eyes, nose, and throat, prompting more tears. She tried holding herself together, but it was a useless attempt. Shay continued to stroke her hands through her hair, and Hunk took a seat on the carpeted floor at the foot of the couch. He leaned against the other two. 

It was nice.

Tears continued to fall, and they were prompted mainly by the warmth, care, and love these two people offered her. 

Fuck. 

How were they so good at this? How did they know that this would make her feel better? 

She threw her hands to her face, startling the others.

“People…are confusing,” stated Pidge, her eyes trained on the ceiling.

“Yes, they are,” agreed Shay. 

Pidge shifted onto her side, now able to see both of them, “But, not for you guys, right?”

“What gives you that impression?” The question mirrored the gentleness in her hands. 

“Well,” she stopped to think of a way to word the next question without sounding like an idiot, “how are you so good at knowing what people need? Like, you guys both just know how to make people feel better. Hunk knew that I would enjoy eating something, and Shay—you knew how to make me feel comfortable. How did you guys know to do that?”

Hunk let out a lighthearted laugh, not teasing her in the slightest, “We know you, P. That’s how we knew what to do.”

“But that doesn’t make sense. Why can’t I do that for the people I know?” She felt small. 

“What do you mean? You do that at work for me and Lance all the time. Like, when you share your dessert with me when I have a hard day, or when you yell at Lance after he doubts himself for the bajillionth time. Oh! or that one time you forced us to go to mini golfing with you because we were all feeling horrible and needed a pick-me-up.”

“That’s…different.”

“How?”

She blinked, “I…don’t know…I’m just, not good with people. I never have been.”

“Has someone told you that before?”

“Well…no.”

“Okay, good, because it’s not true. Why would you think that?”

“It’s just…true, okay? I feel like I can never tell what someone is thinking, or what they’re feeling. It’s like my brain can’t understand the algorithm that everyone else seems to be following.”

“Did something happen, Pidge?” asked Shay. 

“No—well, yes. It’s Keith.” That was the catalyst to Pidge pouring out every little detail that led up to the fight. How Keith and her friendship began when Shiro introduced the two of them. How over the years, he slowly became a new part of her family, yet there was still distance. No matter how close they got, Keith kept her at arm’s length, never allowing himself to get too comfortable. Always ready to detach if the time called for it. 

She told Shay and Hunk how this distance had always stood out to her. How he was always close enough to see and hear but never close enough to touch. Never close enough to lean against…and she always wondered why. 

Was it because of her?

“…am I doing something wrong?”

“No,” Hunk shifted to look directly at her, “I just think he leans on you in a different way than you would think.”

“I guess…but it hurts knowing that he still doesn’t believe that we’re here for him. He says that we’re going to leave him—over and over again. And if you hear something enough times, you begin to believe it yourself.”

“Kind of like how you believe that you’re not good with people?” inquired Shay.

“…yes.”

“You know, I think your cousin has the same voice in his head that you have—the one that repeats things that aren’t true,” She knocked on Pidge's forehead, “It must run in the family.”

“But how can I fix it?” 

Hunk was quick with the reply, “You can’t. This isn’t something that can be fixed…right away, at least. You just have to keep being there for him, so when the time comes and he does look to you for support, he won’t fall and hit the floor. He’ll know that he can trust you to support him.”

She mentally slapped herself because Keith looked for her support that night. He sought out her help, and it ended with her not only confirming that she would leave him, but then she actually left him. She groaned.

“Hey. Don’t beat yourself up. You’re not the only one in the wrong here. What he did to you is still not cool. He needs to know that and apologize.”

“We both said mean things.”

“Still.”

She picked at a hangnail on her index finger, watching as it trailed further down. Bright red emerged.

“I told him that it was like he wasn’t trying…and that I am tired of worrying about him.”

She slumped further into herself on the couch, recalling the first time she met Keith. Recalling how his glare alone made her want to retreat. Everything about him had screamed ‘stay away from me’ and deterred others from approaching. She remembered how closed off and cold he was toward strangers…toward acquaintances, completely forgetting how different he used to be all those years ago. 

Her memories jumped to him, withholding smiles and struggling to relax around her. How uncomfortable he was the first time he visited her apartment and how rigidly he sat on her couch for hours. He sat stiff and awkward yet chose to stay and spend time with her. She could count how many times she was left unanswered when they first became friends, how many times she was the one that initiated plans, and how many times she had to remind him that she enjoyed his company. 

Pidge could pinpoint the date he openly laughed at a stupid joke she said in passing—shocking both Shiro and her. She could recall the time of day when he spoke excitedly about his favorite band, talking longer than he ever had before—showing emotion that begged to be unleashed onto those he held close. 

With time, Keith felt more and more comfortable laying across her couch, sinking into it like a warm, familiar hug after a long day. 

Falling asleep. 

Inviting her out. 

Asking for their help. 

Relying on other people more and more. With time, the tension and fear that once froze him in place chipped away, leaving him standing vulnerable but stronger at his core.

…and all of it happened so gradually. So gradual, it was hard to see until she stepped back and compared the ‘before’ and ‘after.’ She stood in amazement, holding up the two pictures showing two completely different people. The differences were like night and day.

How could she have missed it? All the effort he put into getting better. How could she have missed him becoming a warmer version of his old self? How did she miss how he bloomed into the person he was now?

How ridiculous. 

Pidge was a woman of science, yet failed to observe and collect the data that rejected the null hypothesis. She ignored the data that proved Keith right—he was getting better…he just showed it differently than she thought. Of course, his improvement wasn’t loud and in her face. Of course, it wasn’t. That wasn’t like Keith at all.

She shifted herself onto her back and closed her eyes. She was so comfortable she could fall asleep. Hunk and Shay knew that, offering her the guest bedroom. She declined, preferring to sleep on the couch. They both shook their heads with small smiles before getting up and handing her a more comfortable pillow. Shay dropped a heavy blanket onto her before wishing her a good night. She walked past her husband and gave him a small peck on the lips. Hunk stayed until Pidge situated herself completely.

The blob of a blanket rustled once more, now staring at the other.

“Thank you, Hunk.” He nodded, knowing how much she meant it.

“Goodnight…or morning, I guess.” He laughed at his own joke before heading back to his bedroom. Pidge let out a small huff of air before turning and allowing the blanket to devour her in a hug. Hunk switched off the lights.

“Oh…and P?”

“Yeah?”

“Congrats on becoming an aunt.” 

She smiled.

About a week later, she smiled when she met her nephew for the second time. She smiled when Keith let her come back and again when he pulled her into a hug. She apologized and cried when he did the same. They talked everything out and came to an understanding; building a new, stronger foundation for trust—a trust they both had wanted from the very beginning.

—

4:30 PM. 

On the dot. 

It had been a long day. 

Another day, no—Another week, month, almost year. She stretched her neck, grabbed the same coat, and wiped her glasses that she didn't intend on wearing. Finally, she grabbed her bag and keys and made sure to clock out. 

She knew she would be too lazy to stop for food on the way home, so she decided to eat something from the cafeteria. She had to admit that they had pretty 'okay' food for a hospital. It wasn't anything to rave about, but it was edible and provided somewhat sustenance for her body. 

After acquiring a large bowl of soup, she scanned the rest of the room for a place to sit. Her eyes quickly landed on two familiar faces; both people slouched and invested in their phones. Lance's eyes dipped into dark pools and blinked slowly, occasionally stopping his scrolling to send a text. Hunk smiled at his own device, his work badge abandoned on the table along with his headband. They both shared equally drained expressions. 

"'Sup," she greeted. 

"Hey."

"Yo."

"You guys look horrendous," said Pidge as she sat across from the pair. 

Hunk looked up from his phone, "Yeah, pretty much matched the day I had." Pidge leaned forward and sniffed cautiously at it before eating a spoonful. She immediately grimaced at the taste. 

"I had a patient today who yelled at me for wearing PPE into their room. They told me the gloves were unnecessary…they had scabies." 

"Bro, right in front of her soup?" Lance actually sounded offended. 

She shrugged, pushing the dish away and in front of him, "I'm not going to eat it anyway. You should try it." 

"I just watched you try it and hate it." 

"At least smell it." He leaned forward cautiously before dramatically inhaling.

"That's foul."

"I know, right? Hunk—it's your turn."

"Absolutely not," he dismissed, "when are you off anyway, P?" He quickly glanced up from his phone before returning his eyes to the screen. He typed until he presumably sent a message, finally looking up to fully engage himself in the conversation.

"10 minutes ago." 

"Nice."

"Nice," agreed Lance.

They sat for a bit in well-deserved silence, Pidge aimlessly swirling the liquid with her spoon into a clockwise whirlpool before quickly cutting it to go counterclockwise.

"You guys have any plans tonight?" asked Lance.

"Besides leaving this hospital and changing out of these scrubs? No," said Pidge.

"Hunk?"

"Nothing that I can think of."

"What about your other half?"

"She's going out with some of her colleagues tonight. They had a field trip today…."

"Yikes. How many kids this time?"

"Only 2 teachers and 4 chaperones for 52 eight year-olds."

"I need a drink just thinking about dealing with that," said Pidge, clinking an imaginary drink with the other two. 

"What's Keith up to?" asked Hunk, looking at Lance, who still had his hand up for the pretend toast. 

"He and the Shiroganes took Nova to a new park today. They're having dinner later." 

Pidge threw out a 'lame' alongside Hunk's boo-ing, both leaning closer to see the picture of Nova displayed on his phone. He was sitting on the top of a slide with Keith supporting him from behind and Shiro standing to the side of the slide. The older brother held Nova's hand to direct him forward and keep him upright on the descent down. Both adults looked uneasy, while curiosity and confidence radiated from the child. He had a determined gleam in his eyes, letting them know that he was ready to slide down, with or without them.

They all fell back into companionable silence.

"So, we're all free! We're going out," decided Lance. "It's Friday night and we are all in a dire need to unwind. Let loose. Go wild."

"That's…actually the best idea you've had in a while." She was impressed.

"I'm always full of great ideas."

"Oh, for sure, dude," supplied Hunk.

"Uh huh," agreed Pidge. Lance pushed himself up from the table.

"Meet up at my house around 7. I'll order food—I know a place we can go for drinks after!" Excitement was laced in his words. Both friends saluted before packing their belongings and walking toward the exit.

—

They all met at the time Lance said, mowing down some pizza before jumping into an Uber and being dropped off at an active bar an hour later. Pidge surveyed the outside of the establishment, her eyes immediately drawn to the bright, neon sign that read “Shipwrecked” and the small little crabs that opened and closed their claws.

Lance looked over at her, “This place okay?”

It was a good-sized place, not too big to where they could lose each other, but not too small to where they couldn't move around without feeling cramped. Pidge watched as other potential patrons entered, hearing the music from inside that escaped out the cracked door. It wasn’t too loud; most of the noise seemingly came from the sound of people talking. From the open door, she could see that the place wasn’t heavily lit (as to be expected) and didn’t look too crowded, considering it was a Friday night.

She was sold on it. She nodded in Lance’s direction, seeing how he was patiently waiting for her signal. Once he knew it was ‘Pidge approved’ (as he liked to call it), he held open the door for her and Hunk to enter.

The place felt darker as they walked further into the building, winding through small groups of people before scoring an empty table with high stools a little ways away from the bar. The decorations on the walls and tables illuminated whenever there was a pulse of light from the dance floor, Pidge finding it comical at the attempt to fit the theme of a ‘shipwreck.’ However, in her opinion, the “sandy” tables with wooden barrel chairs made it seem more ‘pirate’ themed than anything. 

She took note of the handful of Billiard tables situated to their left, hoping the two boys would want to play a couple of rounds later. She felt like kicking their asses in one way or another tonight. 

Lance disappeared once they sat down, leaving the two to ‘hold down the fort’ (in Lance’s terms) while he got them their first round of drinks. Not long after, he returned with a smiling bartender in tow with a tray holding three shot glasses. They clinked before downing them; a collective grimace jumped around the table. Hunk and Lance had another round, while Pidge opted out. She remarked how it reminded her of the soup from earlier, earning a fake gag from both of them before ordering some drinks to sip during their ‘friendly’ games of pool. 

Pidge immediately knew that blood would be shed, especially as time continued to tick and the alcohol began to comfortably settle in her muscles, making her feel lighter. The world was hazier, but she could still easily navigate through it. It was a good feeling, adding to her already confident persona. 

The first game was Hunk versus Pidge, and she absolutely obliterated him—poor Hunk shot based on vibes and vibes alone, while Pidge was a true strategist. The second game was played against Hunk and Lance. Hunk was a good sport about his second consecutive defeat, leaving them to order something new to drink.

The third game was the “Championship” round. 

The Finals. 

Pidge versus Lance. 

They flipped a coin to determine who would be in charge of the “break.” Lance won and started the game strong by sinking a solid ball into a pocket. After that, though, his performance began to decline, leading to his ultimate defeat. Pidge had to work for her victory this time—he got close a couple of times at having the upper hand. She luckily had the advantage of being slightly less intoxicated but knew that if he were a tad more sober, he would have beat her fair and square. 

The fourth game was a mixed game, initially starting off as Pidge (The Champion) versus Hunk and Lance (The Loser Tag-team), but Hunk ended up jumping between teams and allowing for a somewhat fair game. Afterward, the two men picked up 2 strays and played a game against them. 

Pidge dismissed herself to get another drink and sit back down at the table they occupied earlier that night. She watched as Lance and Hunk played against the couple—those two boys not standing a chance against the strangers because of their state. She could feel a strong buzz from the previous and current liquid in her cup, so she couldn’t imagine how Hunk and Lance were feeling. They’ve definitely had more than what she had. 

After their defeat, they lazily returned to where she sat, huffing in faux dejection. The bartender noticed they all returned to their table, so she came by to talk with the trio. Pidge found herself lagging behind in conversation, happily listening to both of her friends speak enthusiastically about nothing in particular. 

She shifted her gaze to the newly formed crowd around the bar. As the hours passed, the place had gotten progressively busier and busier, the music now felt louder, and more people gravitated toward the dance floor on the opposite end. Shadows danced under the blue lights, some of them singing their hearts out to the lyrics. 

They added another color to the lights on the dance floor. There was now gold lighting up the shadows and bouncing off of everyone’s skin. At that moment, Pidge wished she had worn her glasses instead of contacts. Her eyes were bugged with the changing colors. She took a sip of her water, nodding when a stranger asked if they could use their unoccupied seat for their table. 

“P, we’re going to sit at the bar,” informed Lance, motioning toward the three empty seats. She nodded but told him she wanted to stay back at the table for a little longer. 

“You can go ahead. I’ll just be here.” 

Lance eyed her warily, not wanting to leave her alone.

“I’ll be fine, I promise. I can tell that the workers are alert.” Hunk gave her his own look this time. She waved her hand to shoo them away. 

She watched as the two boys happily sat at the tall stools of the bar; Hunk in the leftmost seat, Lance in the middle, and her reserved seat to the right. They ordered with a different bartender, making fast friends with him. Hunk immediately pulled out his phone and started pointing animatedly at the screen. She heard him shout, ‘my wife!’. The bartender replied with a thumbs up. 

With her long blonde hair and distinct accent, the bartender from before checked up on Pidge after some time. She ensured she was okay before heading back to the main counter to make more drinks. Upon her return, she joined in the conversation with her coworker and the Guy Who Loves His Wife. Pidge could hear the ‘She’s gorgeous!’ and “She looks ravishing in that dress!” in her thick English accent. It wasn’t hard to miss the loud ‘I know!’

Pidge looked over at the man to Hunk's right. Lance didn’t look uncomfortable, but he did look a little tense, a little more…reserved as he talked to the new faces. The more she thought about it—the more she realized how withdrawn he was. Okay, no, withdrawn was probably not the best word to use. He was still approachable and socialized like normal, but he held himself differently. 

He didn’t look eager to throw himself into the center of the conversation, looking content on the sidelines, which was not really a ‘Lance’ thing to do. Granted, this was the first time they had been in an adult setting in a long time; the group usually hung out at one of their houses, parks, or cafés so they could all attend…so maybe he was just out of the game. Rusty.

But the thing that set her off the most was the flirting—or the lack of it. It was unlike Lance to refrain from flirting with anything that breathes—unheard of, yet tonight he hadn’t made a single remark about anyone. In all honesty, it was something she had been noticing as time continued to grow. 2 days, 3 weeks, 4 months….and Pidge wasn’t dumb. She knew the reason why, but Lance had yet to admit it.

The next time Pidge looked at the bar, someone had taken a seat next to Lance, leaning close to introduce themself, their body language clearly displaying their intentions. From the looks of it, the conversation immediately turned to Lance, pointing at the seat and informing them that someone was already sitting there. 

Not taking the hint, the person stayed put and continued to lean closer and closer, Lance leaning further and further away. He was practically touching shoulders with Hunk at that point. Another drink—water—was placed between them, keeping a physical barrier that didn’t allow the stranger to advance any further. They continued to talk, but he constantly shifted in his seat and looked around. 

That was Pidge’s cue to get up and claim her seat next to him, waving in response to his grateful smile. She gave the Seat Stealer a kind smile before politely asking them to leave. Once gone, Lance threw his arm around her and ruffled her hair. She couldn’t ignore the very obvious sigh of relief that accompanied it all. 

“Thanks.”

“No need to thank me.” She claimed the water on the bar top as her own, “They seemed pushy.”

“Nah, they were nice. Definitely needed t’drink more water, though. They’re definitely going to be hungover tomorrow.” Pidge scrunched her nose. 

Lance checked his phone, sipping a drink that looked way too sweet for her taste. He began typing suspiciously fast for someone decently intoxicated. Peeking a glance, she saw the contact name: 

‘Nova’s Dad <3’ 

Ah. Keith. She should have figured that much.

She leaned closer to him, “How is he?” 

“Hm? Oh, Noves is good. Look at th’picture Keith just sent me!” He angled the phone so she could see it. 

Man, was he a cute kid. His little hands rested on his cheeks, showing off his long-sleeved pajamas with zoo animals. He wore a huge smile that showed his two top teeth. She subconsciously mirrored his smile, it being as contagious as ever. She accidentally glanced at the text thread above the photo. 

Lance: k this is impotrant !!

Lance: can I see the bab y

Lance: nova stat

Lance: pls and thank oyu

Nova’s Dad <3: [sent an image]

Nova’s Dad <3: That was from earlier. He has been asleep for a while now.

Nova’s Dad <3: Are you guys doing okay?

She took another glance at the picture, “Cute, but I meant Keith.” 

Lance smiled at the mention of the name and looked down at his phone expectantly. He got another notification. A small ‘bro’ was said to bring his attention back to her question.

“I meant Keith,” she repeated, louder to be heard over the music, “how is he doing?” 

“O-oh! He’s good! Very good. He called me earlier and said that they had a good time today,” the man replied, distracted. He continued to type and type. She figured that Keith was responding right away—Lance’s big laugh and even bigger smile giving it away. 

“Do I need to take your phone away?” 

“Nah—no. No ma’am. I’m good. I’m super. Great. Fan-tas-tic.” She looked down at his texts. 

“I see four typos in that singular message.”

“Eh, he knows what I meant. M’done anyway.” He stuck the device back into his pocket, his hand snagging on the extra fabric of his shirt and making him giggle.

“Alright, good. You texting while inebriated has never been a… wise decision. Remember that one time you texted your mom—?”

“—yeah, yeah,” said Lance, waving away the memory. 

“Yeah, yeah,” replied Pidge in the same tone. She continued, “Now, let’s save the poor bartender from the big guy over there,” she gestured toward the bright and smiling Hunk to Lance’s left. He was engaged in another conversation and showed the bartender more pictures on his phone. “…I think he’s on his tenth ‘my wife’ story.”

“Man, I love that guy,” said Lance in amazement.

A couple of hours later, Pidge found herself walking on the sidewalk with her arms linked to a person on both sides, grumbling about how hungry she was. She voiced her desire for french fries and was met with total acceptance. It was a group decision that led them to a 24-hour diner down the street, Pidge making sure that neither of the boys fell over on their journey. 

When they arrived, they were welcomed with tired but happy smiles that led them to a booth in the far corner of the restaurant. Pidge tossed both boys on the same side before sitting across from them. Not long after, they ordered their food, Pidge remembering to ask for two sides of ranch dressing, earning a side-eye from the ketchup-loving Lance. 

“Unbelievable.”

“Yeah, unbelievable that you dip your chicken in ketchup.”

Hunk stared down at the bottle of ketchup that was now in Lance’s possession. Then, deep in thought, he reached for it and weighed it in his hands. “I would much rather drink a whole gallon of ranch than ketchup,” decided Hunk after much contemplation. 

Lance shook his head in disagreement. Pidge whipped hers at him in disbelief, “Lance, look me in the eye and tell me that you would rather drink a gallon of ketchup over ranch.”

“Well, no—”

“Exactly. I think—fries are nothing but vessels used to eat ranch. It’s the socially acceptable way to eat a bunch of it at the same time.”

Hunk nodded, encouraging her to continue, “Like—you eat celery with a shit-ton of ranch on top, no one bats an eye…but if you eat it in spoonfuls, society goes wild. Why can’t we, as a society, accept that ranch can be eaten like yogurt?” Hunk nodded along as if she was preaching the gospel.

“Because that’s fucking gross!” 

“And ketchup isn’t?”

“Pidge. Pidgers. Podge. P…B and J,” his eyes lit up in excitement, “If only my name started with a B and Hunk’s started with a J! We could be…P, B, and J. Like th’ sandwich.” He looked sad about this revelation.

“Wait, why do you get to be the B name?” asked Hunk.

“Because apparently  J names’re bad.”

“According to who?”

“I don’t know, the internet? I don’t have a specific source.”

“Researchers would hate you,” said Pidge, her pointer finger directed toward his face. She could poke his eye out if she got any closer. Lance pushed her hand away. 

“Well, there’s no need for any name changes, boys. Our initials are already…technically…an acronym.” This was followed by them listing different ways they could arrange their initials. 

LHP. 

LPH. 

HPL. 

…HLP? Clearly, nothing rang a bell for them.

“P-H-L,” offered Pidge. Hunk whipped out his phone to look it up.

“Philadelphia International Airport?” 

“I was referring to potential Hy's Law, but that works, too I guess. It’s like a rule of thumb of-some-sort when giving a certain medication.”

Hunk stared blankly at her, “Oh, yeah. I feel like I should know that.”

“Eh,” Lance shrugged nonchalantly, “I don’t think it’s common enough to need to know, y’know ‘Specially since you don’t prescribe medication.” 

“That’s true.” Hunk continued to scroll on his phone, and Lance’s eyes followed.

“What’re you doing?” 

“I’m looking up B names. What do you think of the name Brock?”

“Nooooo,” whined Lance, “I get th’ B name!”

“Only if you can think of one.”

“I can think of a B name.” He dropped his hands and laid them flat on the table. Maybe to help him think? Pidge didn’t know. Perhaps the increased surface area allowed his brain to work at an increased speed, or it made it easier to filter through his ideas. The waitress placed their fries and chicken strips onto the table, giving a quick glance to Lance before scurrying away. 

A few more moments went by in silence, Lance’s method of thinking obviously failing him.

“Beaux. That’s a B name.”

“Spell it.”

“No.” It was so matter-of-fact it caused Hunk to throw his head back in amusement.

“Okay—random thought—” said Lance. 

“When are your thoughts not random?” Pidge asked the question into her fries, almost like she expected them to respond over Lance.

“What if—okay, imagine if you’re—wait.”

Hunk scrunched his nose and rubbed at his temples, thinking, “It’s hard to imagine something when you refuse to explain, bud.”

“Imagine you’re at a Spelling Bee,” he hiccuped, “and they make you spell the word ‘bee’. It would be crazy because you would be spelling ‘bee’ at the Spelling Bee. It would be crazy, right?”

Hunk perked up at this statement, “oh! And imagine if your name was Bea. You would be Bea spelling ‘bee’ and the Spelling Bee.”

“Hunk. Have I ever told you that you’re a fucking genius?”

“Yes, but you could tell me more often….” He laughed at his own joke.

“Do you know who is a genius?” asked Lance, leaning closer to the table for suspense. 

“Who?”

Lance didn’t answer, deciding at that very moment to rest his head against Hunk’s side and close his eyes. Pidge looked over to Hunk, who relished in his best friend’s affection.

“5 bucks he says Keith,” bet Pidge, as if Lance wasn’t right there.

Hunk shook his head, “a milkshake if he says someone else.” They shook on it.

“Lance. Who do you think is a genius?” 

There was a contemplative silence before he shouted, “Nova!” Hunk punched the air several times before flagging down one of the servers.

“That shouldn’t count! Nova is an extension of Keith, therefore I win,” whined Pidge.

“Dude, what, no,” chimed in Lance, “I want a milkshake.”

“You didn’t have to rig the bet for that, Lance. You could have just ordered one.”

“Where’s the excitement in that?” She crossed her arms in defeat, listening as the two boys ordered their milkshakes. ‘One Reese’s Peanut Butter and one Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough shake, please!’ Due to their insistence, she agreed to get one as well, Lance tagging ‘and one Oreo with extra Oreos please’ at the end. 

Pidge could hug him for that. 

She blamed that quick lapse of judgment on the alcohol still lingering in her system, laughing at the thought of how happy Lance would be if she did. 

She leaned her arm across the table and patted his hand twice in approval. 

“Lance. You are a good man.”

“I really do try my best,” he said, now bashful at the sudden compliment. 

“D’awww,” drawled Hunk, wrapping his arm around Lance’s neck and pulling him closer, “Is Pidgey over there getting all emotional? I knew that you loved us!” She rolled her eyes.

“It was just a statement. Don’t make me take it back.”

Lance’s pointer finger shot toward her, “You can’t take back a compliment!” Then, he turned his attention to Hunk, “Our next goal is to get her to say she loves us.” The waitress returned with their three drinks, all of them thanking the worker profusely.

“You guys already know that I do.” She took a heavy sip, not getting too much because of how frozen it was. She frowned.

“Am I dreaming right now? Hunk. Pinch me. Wait, bro—don’t actually—ow!” 

“No, if you were dreaming, there would be two other people here with us.” Lance didn’t deny her words, opting to shrug his shoulders and take a sip of his shake. His eyes widened with the flavor. 

“Holy shit. Nova would love this.” He leaned it forward for both Pidge and Hunk to try.

“The 11 month-old? Has he even had peanut butter yet?” Hunk took a sip.

“He had Plax check’em for allergies a while back. We thought Keith was gonna die with how scared he was. Nova couldn’t’ve cared less.”

“That seems to be a pattern with him,” said an amused Hunk. 

They collectively took sips of their drinks, Pidge now situating herself to sit criss-cross in the booth. She remembered the day Keith had him tested for allergies. The whole week leading up to it, Keith asked her an absurd amount of questions as if she knew the answers. 

‘Dude, just ask Lance!’ she would tell him.

After the appointment, she took the pair to get celebratory dessert—mostly to calm the father’s nerves. It was the first time Nova had tried ice cream, and she would never forget how transfixed he was with the taste, reaching for each new bite with haste. 

She laughed at the memory, “awe, now I miss him—I mean, I always miss him, but now I am actively aware of it.” Lance nodded his head like he was thinking the same thing as her. Hunk took another bite of chicken.

“You literally saw him yesterday, Lance.”

“And?” Pidge rolled her eyes at his response, “and P, if you miss’em so much, you can always just call him. I do it all the time and he doesn’t mind.” That got Pidge to tilt her head in confusion. How do you talk on the phone with a baby? 

“…dude, she was talking about missing Nova,” clarified Hunk. Pidge laughed into the chicken tenders. 

“O-oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m gonna pretend that m’not extremely embarrassed right now.”

“Dude your face is so red right now.”

“So is yours, shut up.”

“You shut up.”

“No you.”

“So, so red,” said Pidge as she poked at his face from across the table. 

“Like ketchup!” declared Hunk, like it was some grand discovery.

“My face is red. I got it.” He shoved the other man away and buried his face in his hands. 

“It’s funny. I never thought I’d see the day when you’re down that bad for someone…” said Hunk.

“And the fact that, that someone is Keith—” added Pidge.

“Shut it.”

“I’m not saying that to tease you!” reassured one.

“Well, I am,” said the other, laughing into her milkshake. She shifted more and more of her weight onto the table in front of her. Lance pouted.

“I feel like I’m obligated to say something in this situation…”

“…like?” He sounded so confused. She could tell there was a debate in his head on whether to continue thinking or take a drink of his shake; he was clearly unable to do both at the same time.

“Like, have a talk. A chat. Between two people, y’know? In regards to someone very important in my life.” 

He squinted his eyes to help jumpstart his brain, “like…?”

“Like…a talk about your intentions with Keith?” He nearly choked.

“W-what? What—why would we even talk about that? My ‘intentions’? What is that supposed to mean?” the last bit rushed, each word stumbling over the next. 

His coughing worsened. 

Hunk offered him his glass of water. 

“Oh, come on. Don’t be like that, Lover Boy. If I had a nickel for every time you’ve had heart eyes at the mere mention of his name…I would have a whole lotta fucking nickels.”

He looked over to Hunk, who shrugged, “Yeah, I’d have about 100 bucks, give or take a few cents. It really is getting out of hand.”

“Hunk, I thought you were on my side!”

“I am…with everything but this.” He pat Lance’s shoulder. 

“I’m just surprised—and not because I don’t think Keith is great—he’s just never had any romantic prospects before. Granted, he’s never shown interest in anyone, either…I mean, except for this one guy in college….” If she didn’t already have his attention, that definitely got it.

“In college?”

“Yeah, there was this random guy he was totally smitten over, but he didn’t do anything about it because he found enjoyment in self-sabotage. A masochist, in better terms. I also didn’t know him too well at the time, so I only heard about it through the crumbs Shiro dropped…and I’m talking crumbs.”

Lance wore a weird look on his face. 

“Anyway…the point is: this is a novel thing for me! Like, yeah…I tease him all the time, but never about stuff like this! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.” 

“I still don’t understand what you’d be teasing him for….”

“You.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you.”

“Me?” he repeated.

“Yes,” she clarified.

“Why?”

“Have you seen the way he looks at you?”

“I’m not following.”

“Dude, it’s no secret that he likes your stupid jokes and your quote-unquote “pretty face"—I would know, I’m forced to hear him go on and on about it. I want to gouge out my eardrums.” 

“Wait, he thinks my face is pretty?”

“Oh my god, are you being dense on purpose?”

“I want to say no?” Pidge and Hunk both let out a synchronized ‘bro’ in exasperation. 

“You’re hopeless.” Hunk rubbed at his eyes.

“What do you mean?” 

“Dude. Pidge would be teasing Keith because he likes you.”

“Well, yeah, I would hope he does.”

“No, like…he like likes you.” 

Pidge rolled her eyes, “Jesus, Hunk. What are we, in middle school?”

“Wait, what?” asked Lance. 

“Well, how else was I supposed to spell it out for him?”

“Guys, wait—”

“You could have said, like—‘he has romantic feelings for you’ or that he ‘likes him in a non-platonic way’ or something.”

“Guys—”

“Okay, true, but talking takes a lot of brain power right now, and I’m already feeling tomorrow’s headache.” He swirled his straw in the melting drink. 

“Here,” she moved the water cup in front of Lance to sit in front of the other man, “drink more water.” He obliged, downing the rest of it in one hefty gulp. 

“Um, guys?” He held up his hand like he was in elementary school.

“Yes, Lance?”

“Does he really like me?” Insecurity was laced in his question like he assumed that they were playing a trick on him.

“Yes,” stated Hunk.

“Why are you telling me this, though?”

“Because you’re our friend.”

“So is Keith.”

“That’s true, but he won’t act on his feelings. He always—” Pidge cut herself off, “you just…need to talk to him. I know that it would benefit the both of you.” 

Because it really would. 

“Okay.”

She stretched her arms and back before slumping back into the booth. 

There was a pause.

“I just…want to see him happy.” It was quiet. Almost a whisper from across the table. 

“Hm?” asked Pidge. 

“Um…you asked me about my intentions, and, um, I just… want to see him and Nova happy. It’s all I can really ask for…even if it doesn’t include me one day. I’ll take whatever he is willing to give me.” 

“Sounds destructive.”

“I think he’s worth it.”

She smiled. 

Chapter Text

Earth had once been known as a self-destructive planet—destroying herself with her own elements, tearing at her own scabs, and watching the blood seep into her oceans to form angry mountains that roared to life. Her surface was covered by nasty winds, angry seas, unpredictable temperatures, and darkness.

Nasty winds pushed and pulled from the shadows, grabbing limbs and garments until victims were torn apart. There were angry seas that thrashed at the sails of those who tried to tame it—the waves twisting and turning until sailors didn’t know front from back. Temperatures were more extreme, freezing and melting the humans until they couldn’t reform again. 

And darkness. Once the sun was tucked away, the planet was shaded; completely consumed in this blackness for roughly half of each day…

Humankind lived on her surface during this time. They worked with what they were given, always building until she inevitably knocked it down. Living, until she decided for them to pass. 

That’s just how it was before the Tide and the Moon; this cycle soon ending unbeknownst to them. For the tale of the Tide was a story of a failed sailor... a failed sailor who fell in love with the sea and found himself amidst the messiest of storms.

This tale of the Tide ironically started on the land, in a City by the Sea known for its superior sailing and maritime navigation. It was home to many successful sailors, fishermen, and weavers. All the sailors and navigators from this city were known for their crazy expeditions—lasting through the night's darkness and leading them to return with treasure and new discoveries. 

The sea, with its vastness and unpredictable chaos within, always offered an uncertain journey. It always offered voyages with no guarantee of return—thus making sailors highly valued. In the City by the Sea, sailors held high status, for they were the only ones who could travel through the waters and not get swept away. They were not scared of the darkness the nighttime offered. Instead, they saw it as a challenge. 

There was a large family from the City by the Sea. La Familia Marea. It was large and full of successful sailors, fishermen, and weavers. All the descendants were gifted in their crafts and well equipped with knowledge acquired through experience. 

The fishermen always had the biggest catches and fullest nets, while the weavers created the sturdiest baskets and nets. The ones that sailed could traverse through the strongest of waters…could sail through the most unpredictable winds without fail. They always returned. Granted, they were battered and bruised, but they always returned, allowing them to believe they could control the sea. 

This family had a youngest son—seen as an outlier, an exception in their bloodline. 

He was calm in nature. Patient. Full of humor and laughter and love. He saw the sea as something that couldn’t be controlled; and would sit in the shallow waters by the shore for hours, appreciating and falling in love with the way the currents pushed and pulled him. 

He appreciated all of the sea—the good, bad, and scary; however, he never dared to travel into the deep because he was not a skilled sailor. He could get lost even when seeing the land in front of him, so he never left the shallows. He always watched his siblings in awe as they grew smaller into the horizon on their latest expeditions. 

Because of what he lacked, he was always looked over and seen as incapable compared to everyone else. He was constantly questioning what he was good at, what he liked to do… constantly questioning his purpose. No matter how hard he tried, he was always seen as an extension of someone else. He was always the Weaver’s son, the Sailor’s brother…never known for being himself.

One day, he decided to change that—he decided that he would make a name for himself. He would find something that would set him apart from the people he shared a name with…

…and that he did. He threw all of his strengths into the people of the city. All soon loved him, ranging from the children to the elderly. He taught the youngest children to swim and not be afraid of the push and pull of the water. He taught them about the stars that poked through the darkness of the night, always telling them to wish upon the first star they saw.

He helped the elderly when they went to the market, carrying their items until they safely returned home. He cooked for those who couldn’t. He ran errands for those who could no longer leave their houses. He checked up on families who had family members out at sea.

It was his routine, his thing…and everyone clung to him for hope, for he felt like family. He felt like a force that reassured them that their loved ones were okay while exploring the unknown. 

However, after some time, their luck began to run out. 

Sailors began to get lost, flipped, and twisted in the winds. They were thrown across the once familiar waters. Fishermen couldn’t catch fish, all of them getting too caught up in the sea's strong currents. No one thought twice about it at first. The city's people wrote it off as user error, saying they were just not skilled enough. 

No one batted an eye until the most gifted sailors of them all failed to return. 

His siblings.

One by one, his family stopped returning to their City by the Sea. 

Day by day, more people were lost. 

Week by week, fresh supplies began to dwindle throughout the city…and no one did anything about it. The people of the City by the Sea were too scared to traverse into the deep waters themselves. They feared the element and believed that their self-destructive planet had already decided their fate. 

The boy couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t accept it…

Every day, he sat in the shallow waters and mourned those who hadn’t returned. Every day, he mourned those who were lost as he raked his fingers through the cool water and watched the sun kiss the horizon goodnight. He felt alone, noticing the way people now avoided the ocean.

That got him thinking. He knew his siblings wouldn’t be 'too afraid' if the roles were reversed. They would go looking for him. They would search the seas until they found him again.

Lost in thought, the boy barely noticed when the calm water began to push and pull him. He barely noticed when it gently nudged him until he got closer and closer to the deep. He let the push carry him along until he landed in a shaded area that held a boat with a mighty sail. 

The boy was confused, asking the sea for answers; the only response was an encouraging nudge toward the boat. The boy walked toward it and saw that it wasn’t prepped. It didn’t have any food, water, or supplies. 

He was confused. Was he supposed to use it? Was he supposed to get on and meet the horizon himself? It was going to be dark soon, too. What was he supposed to do once the sun left for good?

Another nudge, harder this time. More demanding. More expectant. More urgent.

He hopped on without a plan, wearing only the clothes on his back and heart on his sleeve.

He set sail. 

Once he was far enough, he finally looked back at the City by the Sea and observed how it stretched along the coast.

He admired the light glow emanating from the houses' warmth and safety. He could hear the light chatter of those walking through the city streets between neighbors, friends, and family. He closed his eyes to take it all in—mourning before he truly left. 

Even though he had doubts, he knew he needed to do this. 

He needed to leave.

He was determined to find those who were lost.

With that, the boy sailed for hours and hours, putting his trust in the current…trusting that his gut would also help steer him in the right direction. 

He sailed for hours and hours until the darkness settled around him, the wind began to pick up, and the waves started to grow taller and taller. They quickly became as tall as mountains in the distance. It wasn’t long until he was caught in a storm like no other—a storm that tore at his sails and ripped him apart. 

He tried to steer to safety, but it was nearly impossible. He could barely even see his hand outstretched in front of himself, let alone see the ropes to ease the sails. He panicked as he was attacked from every angle by both the water and the winds.

He closed his eyes in fear, unable to stop the tears from rolling down his face. He could not stop the storm from raging and the boat from whipping around. He cried for his fate…wishing and wishing for them to find their way home. He called for his family. He cried for their safety. 

He cried with frustration…not with the sea, but with himself. For his inabilities. For what he lacked. He stared into the blackness of the night and wished he had sight. He wished he could see his siblings. He wished he could see the way forward. Anything. 

He had never felt so alone and scared and hopeless. He was utterly ripped from everything he once lived for. He didn’t have his family, city, friends, or neighbors. No one was there to guide him…and he was left to die at the hands of the unknown.

He raked through every possible solution, plan, and idea. Maybe he could do this. Maybe he could do that. Do something to increase his chances at survival…but he didn’t have his siblings’ strengths, his father’s smarts, his mother’s resourcefulness…

So how could he get himself out of this? What could he do? What was he even good for if he couldn’t even save himself?

A wave slapped him across the face, and it felt quite personal. 

Well, it was true! He wasn’t gifted with the eyes for navigation. It was a fact…but deep down, the boy knew that he wasn’t a total failure…just because he wasn’t good at one thing didn’t mean he wasn’t good at anything else.

He thought about what he was good at. He was more sociable than his older brother, cooked better than his sisters, and could collect the best bundles of fruit from the tallest trees in the forest. He made beautiful floral arrangements and had the patience to teach children. He was made up of so many strengths. 

The boy laughed to himself, drenched to the bone. Why did he ever think he wasn’t good enough? 

He was good enough. 

The boy cried, not because he knew he was going to die, but because he finally felt free. He was released from the weight of his family name…from the expectations. He reached an acceptance that only came in the final moments of living—

He cried because it took him detaching completely to truly find himself.

The sea didn't discriminate and raged on, crashing a large wave and engulfing the ship. As the water crashed, there was an explosion in the sea…an exact explosion that mirrored one in the sky—some say it was a coincidence, while others say it was the mere timing of fate. 

The waters instantly calmed, no longer splashing from frantic arms trying to keep themselves afloat. The winds no longer gasped for air between coughs and breathed steadily. Instead, the breaths were controlled with gentle inhales and exhales. 

The boy, now able to wade in the oceans, looked to the sky in awe. He stared at the new shape in the sky that reflected against the calm waters and illuminated his skin. He squinted at the brightness and how it wrapped its arms around him, pulling him into a safe embrace. He felt the force of its magnetism, pushing and pulling him along like an excited friend. 

He was pushed until he found his family all lost to the sea, miraculously helping them return to the shore of the City by the Sea. 

He watched as they crashed their battered ships into the sand and excitedly ran to reunite. He watched as they hugged, laughed, and cried, falling into the soft sand. They looked around as the rest of their family ran to them. Arms wrapped around everyone. The mother and father wept for the children they thought were already ghosts. 

The youngest of the family watched from the shallows, his presence unknown to the rest of them. He watched his siblings search every face, every figure, confused when their youngest brother couldn't be found. Everyone looked around until someone found a piece of his clothing washed up on the shore. They stared at the sea, looking past him—all mourning his loss.

They must have known that he brought them home…all of them saying that the waves that guided them felt familiar, like family. They all thanked the sea before returning to their homes—everyone leaving except for his grandmother. 

She lingered a bit longer to look out to the horizon. Eventually, she looked up and found her grandson, the family's youngest. Her face softened before thanking him—not for returning their family, but for finding himself…finding his purpose.

He nodded before diving into the deep waters.

He was content that he knew his purpose. 

He could be found in the ugliest of seas and the calmest of waters—always ready to bring the lost back home.

Year after year, the Tide would look up to the stars—he would look up at the pebble in the sky—and thank them because they helped bring his family home. The Tide thanked the Moon because he helped him guide many others that were lost.

Century after century, the Tide would look up at the pebble in the sky and fall more in love—in love with everything it gave him and others...forever thankful for the explosion that pushed him toward who he was meant to be. 

—

Ever since Lance McClain could remember, he had always loved stories. He loved the fantasy of it all. The fun. The imagination—he loved how he could be anyone and go anywhere he wanted when playing pretend. 

He could close his eyes and see the world through a lens of make-believe. He could turn sticks into swords, rocks into tools, and mud into medicine. He could walk down the streets of his hometown and jump over ravines or blend into the crowds to hide from assassins. He could crawl in quicksand to find new flowers or jump through a jungle of trampolines to catch butterflies. 

Every day held a new adventure for him—and every night held a story. A story told by his grandmother, mother, and father. They would tell stories about time travel, princes, outer space, and friendship.

And he loved them all. Every single one of them. 

Lance would stare bright-eyed, enraptured by the worlds built once the words left their lips. He could picture himself dancing across fields and running through large corridors of a castle—or walking the plank seconds before being saved by the courageous rogue prince. All of it fostered his own imagination and jumped into his dreams, sweeping him into his own nighttime adventures.

Once his eyes closed, the worlds he created during the day exploded to life. He would be standing on the clouds or shapeshifting into a mighty animal. He would run through the darkest parts of the jungles, searching for treasure. 

When he would wake up, he would sneak down the stairs to capture his well-deserved breakfast—a bowl of cereal made to heal the gods when wounded in battle. He would scarf it all down alongside his mortal sister, her being completely unaware of the battles he fought (and won) during the night.

He would run alongside his sister toward the bus stop as fast as their tiny legs could propel them. Left and right and left and right, one after the other, until they jumped up the steps and found their seats on the bus. He sat at the window seat, of course. He was look-out, always calling out when their school was in view. 

"Land-Ho!" he would say, always accompanied by an eye-roll from Rachel. She would hop off the bus and immediately part ways, her friends greeting her with excitement and anticipation. Squealing and shouting about what happened during their busy weekend. 

Lance watched them all walk away while he headed in the opposite direction. Alone. 

Always alone. 

Not because he didn't talk, but because whenever he did, he was too much for some people to handle. His classmates always avoided him to not have to hear what he wanted to say…which in turn discouraged him from talking at all. 

He was in 4th grade the first time he was pulled from class. Lance and another classmate would be directed to another classroom with an unfamiliar teacher. She would teach them how to spell, write, and speak better…because that stuff didn't stick in his brain for some reason like it did for others. It didn't stick like it did for his older brother and sisters.

It was frustrating because this class made him different. It made him outcasted, in a way. It separated him from those that would multiply fast or read a sentence without stumbling. It was frustrating then, and continued to frustrate him as he got older.

In 5th grade, he was known for being the kid who never made 'math club' because he couldn't solve 50 math problems in a minute. He didn't understand why they were timed…or the reason for them at all. He didn't understand why that measured how smart he was. 

In 6th grade, he was known as the kid who didn't pass the spelling tests, even though the words were "easy." He couldn't help that they bounced and twisted and turned on the paper. 

They read their first book as a class that same year. The Giver. He remembered how cool the book was and always wondered what it would be like to live in a world like the one described: a world without color. 

How lame that would be, he thought. How everyone with brown hair would look the same in his mind. How he wouldn't know that he had blue eyes. That would be weird.

He remembered getting called on; however, he never followed along with everyone else, which led to more kids laughing at him. It led to more classmates calling him an airhead, clueless, unfocused, a loser. 

In 7th grade, Lance remembered dreading "popcorn reading"…his classmates groaning whenever he was called to read. He never understood why they were complaining—he was the one that had to stumble and trip over the words, not them. 

But the teasing persisted, and every day, Lance felt like he was chewed up and spit out…and even though he was older, he found that some of the stories from his younger days stuck with him. He always remembered that he could close his eyes and envision the day being different. He could pretend that math no longer existed, that his classmates were nicer, or that he was braver and stood up for himself. 

However, in 8th grade, he noticed that he was always known as Rachel's brother, even though they were the same age and in the same grade…they were in the same classes. 

How did that work? He didn't know—well, he did know…

…it was because she was smart, like the rest of his siblings. They all excelled in school and work. They all could do well without even trying….and they all had their own things. They all knew what they wanted and got it…and it came naturally to them. They didn't struggle when it came to focusing or studying. The words didn't dance off the pages for them, and they never struggled to understand elementary math. 

This heavily contrasted Lance, who always felt like nothing came easily to him. As if everything was twice as difficult as everyone made it seem…so to earn the grades, he had to push himself to see results. Nothing was ever a stroll in the park for him, and he couldn't help but feel inadequate in comparison.

It didn't help that other people would constantly compare him to his family. It didn't help that complete strangers went out of their way to remind him of everything he lacked. Reminding him that he would never be known as just Lance. Instead, he would always be known as the extension of someone else in his family…and that never sat right with him. 

Like during 8th grade, he was never just Lance. He was always referred to as "Rachel McClain's brother." It was like he was never enough to be his own title. His own person.

…until one day, it changed. 

In the 9th grade, his freshman year of High School, Lance McClain decided to make that change. He decided to make himself known—pretend to be the cool and suave guy he always wanted to be. He decided to pretend he had confidence. Pretend until he no longer had to…until he believed it to be true…until it was true. 

And that's what he did for 4 years.

He pushed his humor and confidence and kindness and selflessness into everything. He was personable and boisterous, joining every club possible on campus. He joined ASB, participated in a handful of sports, was captain of the swim team, and volunteered around the community. He did all of this until he was known for something other than the success of his older siblings…until he was distinguishable from everyone else.

And he clung to these things that made him distinguishable. He loved that these activities and extracurriculars set him apart from the others. So now, instead of being the McClain kid, who was Marco's or Veronica's brother, he was now known as Lance. 

He was just Lance, and it felt great.

Despite this, he still felt lost. 

Deep down, he still felt inadequate. He felt like his life had no direction because he didn't know what he wanted to do beyond high school. It was hard for him to decide on his future because so many things caught his eye. Lance knew he wanted to work with kids and stuff, but there wasn't a clear-cut career he could think of.

As senior year came to a close, and he had to start applying to colleges, he began to panic because he didn't have a plan. He was unsure, uncertain. There were so many options—so many majors and minors and colleges—he didn't know how he could choose.

…and this brought back the comparisons to his siblings. He would catch himself comparing his siblings' well-established success to his own indecisiveness. Putting himself down because he didn't have a plan…

…putting himself down whenever family friends asked about him and his sister's plans for college. How his mom would gush about Rachel's plan to pursue Psychology and become a therapist. The goal his sister had set since she was old enough to count. His mom gushed about how she applied to the best colleges, had the highest exam scores, and was perfect. 

He never failed to hear the worry in his mom's voice when people asked about Lance—his mom always saying, "oh, you know Lance…." Of course, he knew she didn't mean anything bad by it, but it came across that way in his mind. It made him insecure. Self-conscious. It made his indecision seem like a negative thing.

So when he and his sister were accepted into different colleges...and when she immediately accepted the offer to a school hundreds of miles away…he had never felt so lost.

It wasn't like he expected to attend the same college, but he never thought they would be so far from each other. As a twin, he never imagined that he would be completely alone one day...completely detached from the people that grew up with him.

Lance struggled to accept the offer to attend Voltron University, a large university located on the West Coast. It was a great school, but Lance sighed as he read his acceptance letter into their Psychology Program. 

He sighed for many reasons: the first being that his major of choice was Psychology. He convinced himself that it interested him because he wanted everyone to be proud and take his decision seriously. He didn't want to be the only McClain that didn't have a clear path, so he pretended. He pretended to like it until it was hopefully true. 

The other reason was that Voltron University was known for its STEM majors, which meant he only got in because his major wasn't heavily impacted. It wasn't because he was actually smart or anything…

Anyway, Lance now had a plan. Finally, he had something to help guide him through the next 4 years of his life…so why did he still feel so lost?

Maybe because it felt like every decision he had made wasn't his own. Perhaps because his choices weren't authentic. They weren't real. Maybe because they weren't what he wanted…

He sighed again.

He kept his eyes closed and listened as the waves approached him, the waves gently laying themselves onto the sand. Up and down, up and down. The ocean breathed for him and helped relieve him of the crushing weight he felt in his lungs. The weight on his chest. 

Sometimes he wished he was a little kid again. He wished he could still imagine a more exciting life; full of action and adventure. He wished he could still see the dragons flying in the skies or spot the mermaids swimming on the horizon…he wished he could close his eyes and jump into a world that didn't expect so much from him. 

He shifted to sit more comfortably on the uneven sand. He wiggled until it made the perfect Lance indentation. 

He played with the dark blue cloth that rested underneath him, feeling a little better now that it was somewhat destroyed by the wet sand. Wearing it during the graduation ceremony was painful enough…he just wanted it to be gone forever.

He sat there for hours, taking in the sun, wind, and sand. He twirled a seashell absentmindedly in his hands and stared into the depths. Lost in thought, he failed to hear his grandmother sneak behind him, only hearing her when she plopped herself down next to him. 

She just discredited all of his childhood ninja training. 

He huffed.

“Your mom was looking for you,” she said with a sigh, still a little winded from the walk over.

He tucked his face further into his knees. 

“I told her I’d come and get you.”

“Okay,” he said while pushing himself up from the sand.

“Sit. We don’t have to leave just yet.” He mumbled something quietly before spreading his gown out further to make room for her to sit.

“You’re already going to be gone for a long time. I need to charge my Lance battery before you go,” she squeezed him into a tight hug.

She was right. The school was far—6 hours by plane. With that distance, he didn’t know what to expect. With that distance, no one would know who he was. He would no longer be known as a twin, or for his siblings, or as the Swim Team captain or ASB President. He would be no one. Just another student attending a large university. 

That scared him.

He put so much of his identity into those extracurriculars: the sports teams and volunteer work. He put so much work into overcoming his family name…but if he didn’t have those things…he would lose who he was. 

Because who was he really if he wasn’t known at all?

He mumbled an apology.

“I would be the biggest hypocrite of them all, if I made you apologize for wanting to live your life.”

They sat in silence.

“Leaving will be good for you.”

“Do you—do you really think so? What if I’m making a mistake….” 

“I think it will be the best way to find yourself, especially since you won’t have anyone there influencing your decisions….” 

“Wha—?” asked Lance. How did she know that?? 

“Don’t look at me like that. I know you, Lance. And I know you’ll figure it out.” He liked the way her words rolled off of her tongue. 

She continued to talk about how beautiful the day was for the people on and off the shore. How it was so peaceful and calm. She loved when the day was like that.

He looked over at her and caught her staring at the sky. He followed her gaze, landing on the moon peaking in the sky. It watched over the two of them as they sat in the sand.

“I like how the moon watches us…” she said, stretching her hand toward the light and motioning to grab it.

Lance shrugged his shoulders, “I guess. It’s kind of forced to do that—‘watch us’… I mean.” 

“What happened to you? You used to love making up stories about the moon.”

He shrugged, “‘guess I’m too old now.”

“If you’re old, what does that make me?”

“Antigua,” he said with a smirk. She smacked him on the leg. 

“Ay, watch it.”

He laughed, feeling a little lighter. 

“There you are. I haven’t seen you all day,” said the older McClain with a wink. 

He breathed with the waves. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Not really. 

He paused.

“I’m just—I’m scared. I’m going to be alone.”

She smiled at him and looked back at the horizon, “Oh, mijo. You’ll never be alone. You have me, your parents…your brothers and sisters….”

“They’re not going to be with me at college, though….” 

She gestured toward the sky, “then you’ll always have the moon.”

Lance rolled his eyes.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me.”

“You weren’t even looking at me.”

“I could sense it from a mile away.”

He huffed. 

“It was a pretty day today.”

“Yeah, it was.”

“Reminds me of a story my dad told me when I was about your age…the boy reminds me a lot of you.” she said wistfully. That got Lance’s attention.

“A story?”

“Yeah, a story, but I know you’re too old for those now….”

“No!”

“Are you sure? You seemed pretty serious earlier….”

“I was sulking.”

“I know.”

He huffed again. 

“It was a story about a boy who lived in a City by the Sea….”

They sat in the sand for a couple hours; the pair finally decided to retire when it got a little too chilly for the grandmother. He helped her from where they sat, pulling her into a tight embrace. 

He felt a little more comfortable in his decision to venture into the unknown. He now felt a little more comfortable completely detaching himself from everything and everyone he knew—hoping to find himself…just like the Tide.

—

He arrived at Voltron University after a grand total of 15 hours of travel, which included checking in, security, a layover in Texas, and additional in-between time. He was fucking exhausted and couldn’t wait to get to his room.

First off, the campus was huge, spreading over 15,000 acres. It was rebuilt based on the 2093 US Space Station near the rings of Saturn. The architects went all out, making the campus have a futuristic feel, which Lance was excited about. 

He walked around until he found his dorm building, which was one of the hundreds that were located on campus. From what he knew, each room housed 2 students randomly; every room was somewhat suite-style and included one bedroom, a small living room, a bathroom, and a kitchenette.

Lance found the building, chuckling when he saw the giant lion statue at the entrance. Of course, there was a giant lion statue at the entrance. The coincidence of him being born in late July…

He opened his phone to find the screenshot of his floor level and room letter. 

BLDG: LEO. 3-G. 

He looked over at the elevators’ clogged lines of incoming students and decided to take the stairs. He was only on the third floor, so it shouldn’t be that bad…

…once he got to the top of 3 of the world’s largest staircases, he took a much-needed break, side-eyeing the three 3 suitcases he had just lugged up. He was shocked he didn’t break any of their wheels. Once rested, he exited the stairwell and began his search for his room. 

They were laid out in alphabetical order, the letters switching between each side of the hallway. For example, the right started with A and continued with every other letter: A,C,E,G…The rooms on the left began with B and continued the same: B,D,F,H…

He followed the right side, his eyes soon landing on a very tall, husky man with a large tattoo that followed the entire length of his right arm. Lance immediately stopped in his tracks, terrified. He observed the guy again. He was standing in front of the ‘G’ door and seemingly struggling with the key…although he was scary, Lance knew it would be best to help, especially since he could assume he had been there for a while…

“Hey, man. Do you need some help?” asked Lance.

The scary guy looked at him with the kindest smile he had ever seen.

“Yes. Please. I have been here for 10 minutes, and it won’t let me in.” The guy lightly hit his fist against the door in pseudo-anger. Lance didn’t think the guy was even remotely frustrated at this inconvenience. 

Lance pulled out his key card and opened the door in one quick swipe. The guy sighed in relief.

“Oh, thank god. I thought I was going to be stuck out here forever. Thank you!”

“No problem, man. I’m glad I could help.”

The guy nodded before entering. Lance followed right after. They both plopped their suitcases on their beds before the big guy turned to him.

“I’m Hunk!” said Hunk.

“I’m Lance,” said Lance, “It’s nice to finally meet you!”

“Same here.”

“Oh, dude, I love your shirt,” said Hunk, pointing to the shirt the other was wearing. It was of an obscure band from the late 2000s. 

“Thanks! They’re my all time favorite!”

“Dude, mine too! Check this out—” Hunk unzipped his suitcase and rummaged through a handful of shirts before pulling out a specific one. It was the same shirt Lance was wearing. Holy crow! 

He knew that they were going to get along great.

And they did. 

Classes didn’t start for another week, so the roommates took that time to meet new people on their floor, explore the campus, and get into a groove. 

He learned that Hunk was a nursing major and lived about a 2-hour drive away from campus. It wasn’t super far, but just far enough to make the commute horrible. He also found out that his roommate was a morning person. He did everything in the morning. He got up ridiculously early to work out, clean, do homework, eat, and shower. He did all of this before Lance even opened his eyes.

“Don’t you have a morning class?” asked Hunk, their second morning together. 

“Yes.”

“So…shouldn’t you be training yourself to wake up earlier?”

Awe, man. He was right. He threw a pillow at him.

From that day, he tried to fix his sleeping schedule and find a routine to follow so he wouldn’t struggle when classes began. Because Hunk was right. He did have a morning class. 

He had a morning class every Tuesday and Thursday—a 3-hour Biology lecture that began at 7AM…no amount of training could have prepared him for it.

So at 07:15, a sleepy Lance stared blankly at the board and listened to the professor list information bound to slip from one ear and out the other. He took note of his shitty posture. Adjusting himself, he then looked down at the notebook on his desk, the lined paper covered with unfamiliar words from the lecture. 

He thought about what he wanted to eat for lunch. He got up late this morning and didn’t have time to make breakfast. He thought about grabbing a burger. Would he have enough time, though? His next class wasn’t until 11:30, so he should have enough time unless the lines were long…

“…we make some electron carriers. Remember, they act as the ‘electron shuttles’….”

Electron shuttles. 

Lance extended his arms forward and stretched until he heard a series of soft ‘pop’s from his shoulder blades. It felt good. He wondered if the professor would end the lecture early since she was almost done lecturing chapter 2. He could only hope…then he would have even more time to grab a burger. 

“We still have 6 carbons attached to their respective molecules….”

He wrote the information down but would bet a million-and-one dollars that he would not be able to recite a single thing. So with that, he tuned back into the lecture. 

He wrote down more unintelligible words onto the lines, some letters blurring together as his hand became increasingly tired. He took a sip of his water to try and wake himself up. He even contemplated resting his head on his knuckles, but he knew that would guarantee him falling asleep. 

He straightened his posture again. 

This was agony. He couldn’t let his mind wander, or it would be obvious he was not paying attention. He sat in the front, so he couldn’t slack off…and what was he doing right now? Slacking off!  

All of a sudden, people were leaving. He haphazardly threw everything into his bag and headed to the following lecture. 

He needed to focus. 

The next day of the lecture started on a disastrous note. He was awoken by a frantic Hunk hovering over him, shaking him in a frenzy. Lance couldn’t remember when he’d gotten dressed so fast in his 18 years of life. Despite the speed with which he dressed and ran out the door, he was still incredibly late for his biology lecture. 

He lost his unassigned-assigned seat and was forced to find a place in the back of the lecture hall, which upset him. He purposely sat in the front to force himself into paying attention. Now being near the back, paying attention was going to be a million times harder—also, he couldn’t see the board that well…

He looked to his right, observing the guy he sat next to in a flurry of movement. Lance had never seen the guy before and noticed that he sat at one of the three left-handed desks in the room. It always baffled him—there have been such advanced scientific discoveries and inventions. Yet, schools kept the rudimentary desk designs from the early times of the 21st century. It never made sense to him…

Despite the full class size, no one sat on either side of him, and the guy didn’t seem to be bothered by that. 

What really caught his attention were the notes on his desktop—a page of senseless scribbles and squiggly lines. The guy wasn’t even paying attention to the lecture! 

Unbelievable!

Who did this guy think he was!

Okay, focus, McClain…

But he couldn't. He was too worked up from the frantic morning. He couldn't seem to calm down at all. He shook out his hands to try and help. It didn't work. Maybe if he drank some water…

His thoughts were interrupted by the professor, who was standing at the end of their aisle. She was passing out a stack of papers to their row. She eyed everyone before her gaze stopped on a particular student. She called out to them, which caught the entire room's attention.

"And…the young man in the red sweater..." Lance quickly looked down at himself to double-check what he was wearing. His bare arms and blue t-shirt indicated that he was not the one being spoken to…which was stupid. He didn't even own anything red…

Much to his surprise, she was actually motioning to the guy to his right, who looked up in disinterest. Lance didn't miss the quick look of panic in his eyes before smoothing it down to neutral. 

"—don't you think it would be wise to write proper notes?"

The guy just looked at her before shrugging. 

Her eye twitched in annoyance.

"Don't you think the people in your future field will want you to know this information?" The tone was condescending.

"Um, if I'm being honest, I don't technically need Biology 120 to pursue my future career." 

"And your future career… what would that would be?" 

"I don't think that's any of your concern." 

Oh?

This guy was kind of scary, in like, an ex-delinquent-movie-protagonist way.

"I guess not, but I do know that it is crucial to pay attention to what is being taught. This information will be on the first exam." The lecture hall became tense at the mention of their first examination. 

The guy cocked his head to the side, "I'm paying attention." 

"The scribbles tell me you are," said the professor, swirling at the air with an imaginary pencil. 

The guy frowned at her.

"Okay," she clapped her hands together, "since you're so confident with the material, can you tell me the basic structure and functions of chloroplasts for the class?" He looked to his left and then to his right, as if to make sure she was still addressing him. 

He blinked.

Bored.

"The more commonly known structure or the recently discovered one?" he asked.

"Common."

The guy didn't even hesitate with his response; his demeanor was cool, and his speech was laced with confidence. He answered her question with detail that would only come from someone truly knowledgeable in the subject…even relating the concept to space travel at one point…This guy was smart smart. 

Lance fiddled with the corner of his paper to distract himself from the scene playing out before him. But, instead, he found himself slightly irritated at the guy's confidence.

He didn't understand why he was irritated…okay, he understood why. This guy was seemingly everything Lance wished he would be—smart without trying. This guy probably didn't need extra time during exams to thoroughly read the questions, and he probably didn't need to attend tutoring. 

On top of all this, the guy was confident in his future…and that made Lance extremely jealous because he had been debating his major since he accepted the offer to attend this school. He was still unsure of everything…and it pissed him off that this guy had it all figured out. 

"What was your name, again?" asked the professor, impressed.

"Keith."

"Last name?"

"Kogane." The professor's eyes widened ever so slightly at a sudden realization only she seemed to understand.

"Alright, Mr. Kogane. Thank you. I apologize for my false assumption. Now, let's continue class, shall we?" She said it as if he was the one who stopped the lecture. A mumbled 'finally' was said under the guy's breath, his squiggly lines and swirls continuing to bloom onto his paper. She walked back to the front of the room.

"Next, uh, we'll be talking about what Mr. Kogane had mentioned a minute ago…the Kogane Principle, which was introduced fairly recently…." 

Holy crow! No wonder this guy knew his stuff! He looked to his right, watching the guy lower his gaze onto his notebook, his eyes growing darker. 

Huh. 

Odd reaction. Especially since he just schooled the professor in front of the whole lecture hall! 

Lance discretely looked the Keith-Guy over again, focusing on the way his pencil swirled in perfect circles across the lined paper. Who was this guy? Lance didn't know, but he did know that he needed to keep an eye on him—he was now the competition…

That night when he returned to his dorm, he looked up the Kogane Principle (for class…)

NASA News: Mission Kogane, the Kogane Principle, and its everlasting impact on the world of plants. August 03, 2112. 

’Mission Kogane' was the famous NASA mission that landed humans on Kerberos, a small natural satellite of Pluto. Kerberos was discovered by researchers of the Pluto Companion Search Team using the Hubble Space Telescope on June 28, 2011. It had always been a point of interest to scientists everywhere due to the presence of water-ice on its surface. 

For many years, AstroScientists all around believed reaching its surface to be an impossible feat because of its chaotic rotation that varied quickly over geological timescales, as well as it not being tidally locked. However, not even 100 years later, humans have made contact with its surface as of June 03, 2106. They retrieved samples from the surface almost immediately. 

After the successful work of two Astrobotanists, Colleen Holt and Samuel Holt, there have been new theories regarding plants' evolution patterns when exposed to non-Earth material—these theories now changing the foundations of botany and biology forever!

In an interview, Colleen Holt stated that "plants are much more resilient than we give them credit for. When we first began our experiments, the plants instantly gave up due to the deprivation of regular materials…however, over time, the plant and its root system seemed to adapt. It began accepting and using the foreign material to build a root system. It took little over a year…experimenting with hundreds of different plant families before we had our first flower."

The plant-hybrid was later named the 'Juniberry Flower' for its almost identical genetic-root makeup to the Juniper Berry. However, despite the name, it resembles the 'Stargazer' Lily, which NASA thought was an incredible coincidence!

With further observation and testing, Biologists and Botanists at NASA found that the flower had fragmented genetic material that allowed it to reform its chloroplasts with a new, unique structure. This new, unique structure will enable it to survive in non-Earth conditions without the necessary sunlight for photosynthesis and ATP production. It also allows plants to naturally protect themselves against solar ultraviolet radiation and the vacuum of space. This adaptation phenomenon was later named the Kogane Principle in 2112. 

With this new knowledge, Colleen Holt and Samuel Holt successfully modified many vegetable seeds to survive in the desert soil on Mars and on the water-ice surface of Kerberos. These discoveries have forever changed how botanists and biologists look at the makeup of plants and how they interact with their immediate environment. 

See related people: Colleen Holt: Astrobotanist, Astrophysicist. 

Samuel Holt: Astrobotanist, Astrobiologist. 

Iylah McDougall: Plant Biologist. 

He skimmed through another article, his eyes never landing on a scientist with that name. So who was it named after?

Science Now: What is the Kogane Principle? December 21, 2112. 

What is the Kogane Principle? 

The term was coined for the unique chloroplast structure plants form when exposed to foreign space material. This new, unique structure allows plants to survive in non-Earth conditions without the necessary sunlight for photosynthesis and ATP production. It also allows plants to build natural protection against solar ultraviolet radiation and the vacuum of space! This phenomenon was named after NASA Pilot Krolia Kogane.

Bingo. 

Krolia Kogane. 

A picture of a woman that looked about 10 years older than he was popped up—a spitting image of the guy he sat next to that day. It was uncanny…and a little spooky, if he was being honest. Her black hair was tied back, loose bangs framing her face. Her dark eyes were stern but accented with smile lines. All of her features tied together with the confident tilt of her lips. 

NASA News: Krolia Kogane. Astronaut, Pilot. Employed 2091-2106. Affiliation: NASA, THE GALAXY GARRISON INSTITUTION OF SOLAR SYSTEM EXPLORATION… click to view more. 

NASA News: Kerberos Sample Return Mission Successful! Everyone returned safely to Earth. October 05, 2106. The NASA scientists' team reached Kerberos, the farthest Humankind has ever reached in history! This historical event was led by Mission Commander Samuel Holt and piloted by Krolia Kogane...click to view more.

ABOUT THE KERBEROS MISSION: The Kerberos Mission was a 6 month-long trek—2 months to get there, 2 months doing active research, and 2 months to return. They departed on April 01, 2106, and returned to Earth on October 05, 2106. It was the most extended successful space mission to date. 

The purpose of the mission was to extract and examine samples from Kerberos' surface to find possible signs of life and check how it interacted with life on Earth. 

The mission included 6 astronauts: Pilot Krolia Kogane, Mission Commander and Astrobotanist Samuel Holt, Astrobotanist and Astrophysicist Colleen Holt, Aerospace Engineer Mikey Delgado, Hydrologist Sion Tapia, and Flight Surgeon Rory Turnbull.

NASA News: The tragic death of Astronaut and Pilot Krolia Kogane. October 17, 2106, leaving the Space World devastated. After her most recent mission, she suffered from a sudden heart attack… click to view more.

Lance closed his computer. 

Oh.

Okay.

The following lecture went without much action. The same for the next; nothing notable happened. The black-haired guy was there again and again, and the professor didn't try to provoke him. 

During one lecture, Lance glanced over at what the Keith-Guy was writing. Instead of writing bio notes, the dude was solving (what looked like) equations? Math…or something? And the guy seemed really tired. His dark circles looked more prominent than he'd ever seen.

He looked away.

During the Thursday class of the third week, the guy wasn't there at all. He looked around, and nothing. He was M.I.A., and Lance was worried about him—concerned about how this would affect their competition…yeah. 

He made eye contact with the professor in his search for the familiar mop of black hair. The professor noticed the empty seat to Lance's right and gave him an expectant look to ask where he was. The student shrugged his shoulders to reply that he didn't know. 

He glanced at the empty seat to his right, wondering where the guy was. He shook his head to focus, knowing that he needed to write extra good notes…

…and if he wrote a copy of them after class for the absent student, no one would know. 

What? The Keith guy needed to get the information…and it wouldn't be a fair competition if they weren't working on equal ground, right?

Tuesday of the following week, the Keith-Guy showed up with exhaustion evident on his face—coffee in one hand and a bag of gummy worms tucked into the side of his backpack. Breakfast of champs, no doubt. 

Lance cleared his throat, getting the other guy's attention. 

"Here are notes from the last lecture."

This was the first time the dude looked at him…maybe even the first time he noticed his existence at all, but he'd never forget the weight of his dark eyes on him. 

"Oh—" said the guy, accepting the papers cautiously like they would explode. He stared down at them, his face going through a number of different expressions. Lance decided that disbelief was the most prominent one that showed. 

Why did he seem so shocked?

"Thank you." The longer he held the papers, the further his eyebrows scrunched in confusion. 

"Anytime, man."

His smile wasn't returned. 

Or… any words, for that matter. Over the next couple of lectures, he didn't say a single word to him.

…and it's not like Lance expected the guy to talk to him…it was a large lecture hall with many students, and the guy didn't seem like a talker. Despite this, something told Lance that he didn't mind his presence. He liked to think the guy would have shooed him away if he genuinely bothered him. 

During the next lecture, Lance's sleepy desk neighbor nodded off while the professor rambled on about who-knows-what. His arm soon slipped on his paper and thumped loudly against the desk, the noise ringing throughout the entirety of the room. All eyes immediately turned to where the sound originated. Keith, in a panic, looked at the professor, his knuckles white against the grip on his pencil. He obviously didn't like the sudden attention.

Without thinking, Lance threw his notebook onto the floor before him, making all eyes jump onto him instead. This included Keith's owlish eyes, surprised at the sudden gesture.

"I apologize for the interruption," said Lance to the professor, who waved him off before continuing. 

Keith looked over at him and gave him a small 'thanks.' 

During the next lecture, he mustered the courage to actually greet the guy. 

"I'm Lance," said Lance. He held out his hand…to shake. Who does that? Instead of shooing him away, which Lance thought was most likely to happen in this scenario, Keith nodded with a small smile. He then shook his hand.

"It's nice to meet you, Lance."

He rode the high of his words for the rest of the day—hell, the rest of the week and had to ignore the stupid looks Hunk threw at him.

The first exams snuck up on him, well, everyone, for that matter. It seemed like he barely had time to settle and find his routine before exams from every class were thrown in his direction. He barely had time to think of anything else besides his coursework, making him go a little crazy.

For the first biology exam, they were told that they had to sit in different seats than usual—that way, it was harder to cheat. The professor also said that the first exam was the lowest-scoring exam because students never knew what to expect. Lance was worried, overthinking everything he knew while they tapped their answers into the secure exam tablet. 

That night, they received their scores and the answer key.

During their next meeting, the professor mentioned how there was a student who scored a 100%. Lance looked down at his desk, remembering the measly 82% that showed up in his grade book. It wasn't horrible, but it wasn't great, either.

He knew that he could do better. He looked over and heard Keith tapping his pencil on his desk impatiently. Lance asked what his score was. 

"An A" was the response he got. It was said nonchalant, not drawing any attention to himself, but Lance had a feeling that he was the guy who got a 100. He also didn't return the question because he didn't care or because he sensed it was a sore subject…either way, it was appreciated. 

Keith was sitting in his unassigned-assigned seat when Lance arrived at the next class. He said hello and received a nod before turning his gaze back to the empty screen in the front of the room.

"So. How are you?"

"Uh, good? How are you…?" He sounded like he was in pain with the small talk. 

"I'm great. Kinda sleepy. Do you want to hear a joke?"

"Sure...?"

"How does Juliet maintain a constant body temperature?"

He paused to give the other man time to think of an answer. Then, after some time, he just shrugged his shoulders.

"Romeostasis."

He was just looked at. 

No reaction.

"Like…homeostasis?" supplied Lance.

"Oh, okay."

Okay… 

They'll have to work on that.

"Keith."

"Hm?" He looked up from his phone.

"I made a D.N.A. joke in my biology class, but no one laughed… I guess my thymine was off." He said this as the opener of the conversation—well, he wouldn't even consider it a conversation.

Keith blinked in his direction before turning his head back to his notebook.

So much for that…

"Oh, okay. I have another." He sat in the chair, his neighbor once again giving him his full attention. 

"I wish I was adenine…because then I could get paired with U…."

Keith blinked. 

Lance blinked back.

Nothing. 

Man, tough crowd. 

Lance slumped his shoulders and scrolled through the internet for better jokes, missing the small smile that slipped onto the other's face.

During week 8 of classes, Lance finally took the time to call his sister. They texted, but he never could call…and it wasn't like he was ignoring her…he was just too scared to. She could sense a lie from a hundred miles away, so if she asked about his classes, she would know immediately that he was unhappy.

It wasn't that he didn't love being in school at V.U. He was just really doubting his psychology classes—his major, for that matter. His two major classes were cool and all, but it wasn't something he wanted to study long-term. He didn't want to be a therapist and definitely didn't want to do research…so he was stressed.

It kept him up at night. It felt like he was failing his family…and when he called Rachel and listened to her gush about how cool her studies were, her new friends, and how excited she was…it was tough. And that sucked. He didn't want to feel jealous, but he did. 

He just hoped he would get his shit together soon.

After the phone call and promising to let her meet Hunk next time, he threw himself onto his bed to complete some lab assignments. Unfortunately, he ended up staying up later than he would have liked, which caused him to walk into his biology lecture more tiredly than usual.

With his heavy eyes and sleep-deprived brain, he sat in his seat and waited for the lecture to begin. He scrolled through "ShareMe," landing on some weird meme page with verbs slapped onto pictures of water bears. They weren't particularly funny, but Lance laughed anyway. 

He then exited the app and switched to Google. He found a bunch of facts about them, only really focusing on the pictures of them in the side margins…that was until he found out that they can survive in space.

"Morning," greeted Keith, surprised he wasn't the one to show up first.

"Have you ever heard of water bears?" asked Lance.

"Yes. They're nearly indestructible." He sat down.

"Yes! They can quite literally survive in space. They just get rid of the water in their body and—" he made a schlurp sound, "shrivel up." 

He had his attention and continued, "Also, they look like little guys in space-hazmat suits." He flashed Keith a picture of what they looked like, "my little friend is an astronaut!"

"As of 2118, a full NASA space suit costs about 115 to 120 million U.S. dollars," supplied Keith.

He looked back at the picture, "…he took out a loan when he purchased his." Keith's eyes crinkled in seeming amusement, a win in Lance's book. 

In the following days, his lack of sleep finally caught up. He overslept, waking up at 7:21 in absolute horror. Hunk, equally horrified, had slept in as well.

He threw on whatever clothes he could find before sprinting out of the LEO building toward the Biology sector of campus. He didn't want to interrupt anyone when he got there, so he sat in the back row until the mid-lecture break. He couldn't help but notice Keith's head shift toward the empty seat to his left every so often…he wasn't watching him, he swore….

At the break, he casually walked to his usual row, "Did you know that the brain can store an estimated 2.5 million gigabytes?"

Keith looked at him, stunned by his sudden appearance, "That's a lot of gigs."

Lance nodded, sitting down in his unassigned, assigned seat. It was a lot of gigs. 

"I have a joke for you."

"Okay."

"Do you know what gets on my nerves?"

"What?" Keith seemed more amused that day than the others. 

"Myelin."

He received a confused look. 

"Like, the myelin sheath…it protects the axon of a neuron. We were talking about it in my other class yesterday."

"Oh," said Keith in the most dead tone, "that's funny."

Lance blinked.

Uh. Okay.

He settled further into his chair, fishing out the pencil he had thrown in his backpack not too long ago. For some reason, he felt like he had to explain his absence this morning. 

"I slept through my alarm this morning—well, it would've helped if I set an alarm to begin with…but still. My roommate—who also overslept—was freaking out, which freaked me out…and then I, uh, practically ended up running here." 

A paper filled with scratchy handwriting was hesitantly pushed toward him during his spiel. Lance was confused because Keith didn't write notes….that was a fact…so when he pushed the paper closer to him again, Lance had to close his mouth from shock.

Keith wrote him notes…notes for him to have because he thought he was going to miss the lecture!

"Dude. Thank you." 

The other grunted in response before resuming his usual mid-Biology Physics(?) problem. 

"There's a planet made of diamonds twice the size of Earth. It's far away, but imagine if we traveled there! Do you know how much money that would be?"

Keith shrugged, "Hopefully enough to cover the cost of the space suits."

Lance laughed, "It better. My friend is in serious debt…." A light chuckle came from Keith, leaving Lance feeling as light as air—like helium if he had to choose a gas. 

That feeling soon deflated as the professor began lecturing…the first hour and a half passed at an unbelievably painful speed. It also didn't help that Lance felt like he was one large breath away from peeing his pants. 

Keyboards clicking and pencils scraping against paper, their sanity withering away with every stroke. Everyone was on the edge of their seats, scared to miss a single piece of information. The class visibly took a breath of relief once the professor announced it was time to take a pause. 

15 minutes to recover. 

Everyone sat in silence, which was a little off-putting with the sheer number of people in the lecture hall. In the silence, a light scratching continued to his right.

"That's wrong," said Keith under his breath with a frown, immediately striking through a string of numbers with random letters attached to them. 

"So, like…what is that?"

"An equation…?" He said this as a question but not in a condescending way. Instead, it was said in a more confused manner, confused that someone seemed interested in what he was doing. 

"For what?"

"Physics." He was right!

"Oh, so like, math."

"Yeah." 

Lance hummed to himself, staring at the numbers with foreign variables attached to them. 

"What does the answer mean?" 

"Hm?" 

"Like, what does the answer tell you when you get to it?"

"Where an object will land."

"Oh. That's cool."

"Yeah, it is."

They sat in silence, Lance observing the other as he computed more numbers. 

Lance prodded for more information.

"Why did you cross all of that out?"

"For this one," he pointed at a part of the scribbled-out problem, "I forgot to consider wind." He stopped to think. "And here," he pointed to another clump of confusion, "I forgot the drag coefficient, which threw off the entire outcome…." 

Keith was now lost in thought, steadily tapping his pencil against his desk and biting at his cheek. He continued working his way through the problem; the gears visibly turning. He mumbled unintelligibly to himself about asking someone else for help. 

"Oh. That seems kinda complicated."

"It's alright. Just memorizing formulas. You're smart—you'd understand it if you took the class." 

Lance almost choked on the sudden compliment thrown at him; it was so nonchalant…said like a statement of fact. It made him feel dizzy.

"Still…"

Keith grunted, not saying anything else, which was not cool. Lance liked hearing him talk.

"What do those variables stand for in that specific equation?" 

Keith pointed to a new letter with every word, "Acceleration. Drag. Projectile Motion…"

"Oh! Does that little 'm' stand for motion?" He was excited for some reason. 

"Well, no…meters, actually." He must have noticed his dejected face, "but it was a good guess. It can have a number of different meanings depending on which concept you're working on." 

He explained the equation a bit further, in more simple terms. Much to Lance's own surprise, he had a lot more patience than he thought he would have. He had no trouble explaining concepts Lance had never heard of. The explanations were so clear he understood everything…but it wasn't because lance was smart…it was because Keith was a good teacher. 

Lance scrunched his nose, "The whole process is too complicated."

The other man shrugged, continuing to work on the problem. Lance just watched until their professor signaled that the 15 minutes were up and it was time to continue the lecture. He turned his body back toward the board, readying his wrist for the amount of writing he was about to do.

It wasn't until the professor got to the 4th slide that Lance realized he had forgotten to use the restroom, but he was too distracted to care. He couldn't forget the compliment. The statement. How quickly it had been said to him…

'You're smart.'

'You're smart.'

'You're smart.'

It made Lance want to cry.

He knew he was smart. He knew that he had earned good grades. He always passed his exams...but there was something so reassuring and relieving about hearing someone confirm it. To hear someone say it without any other context behind it. 

Lance smiled for the rest of the day.

"What is that?" a voice asked him the following week.

Lance was startled. "What?" 

"What is that?" Keith pointed to the chart of the brain that was poking out of his notebook, his voice sounding less confident than the first time he asked. 

"A human brain." 

"Okay." 

Lance slapped himself mentally. He already knew that it was a brain, Lance. 

"We had to label the different regions of the brain and describe what their functions are… it's for my psych class."

"Hm. Are you a Psychology Major?'

"Yes?" The question in his tone threw off the other.

"You seem unsure about that."

"Okay, yes. I am, technically…I might switch though, which is so embarrassing." He toyed with his hands. That was the first time he had spoken that thought aloud. 

"Why would that be embarrassing?"

"It just… is."

"Why?"

Lance blinked. 

Why was it embarrassing? 

Was it embarrassing because everyone he knew already had their lives planned out to the tee? Was it because he felt he should have already known what his life would look like? Was it because all of this made him feel like a failure? 

He turned away. He didn't know how to explain the way he felt. Especially to Keith, who probably had always known what he would do with his life. Having to admit that he had no idea what the fuck he was doing seemed a bit embarrassing…

"It just…makes it seem like I don't know what I'm doing," said Lance. He decided that was the best answer. 

"I guess to some people it might seem that way…." 

Lance slumped into the seat, expecting him to stop at that.

"…but I don't think any of us really know what we're doing. You're smart. You'll figure it out." 

That was the second time he had said that to him. 

'You're smart.'

It was so blunt. So bold.

It felt like there was a shift—an explosion of some sort—at the sudden declaration. 

It was everything Lance needed to hear, and it stuck with him for the rest of the day: through his following lecture, tutoring, and dinner. 

He sat in his dorm that night with an extra boost of confidence. He logged into his school's website and contacted the counselors' office. He made an appointment to petition for a major switch. 

Boom.

Done. 

He then opened Google. 

Best careers for extroverts.

Best careers for people who like kids

Best careers for leo zodiac

What the hell is Myers Briggs?

ESTP personality

Best careers for ESTP Myers Briggs

What do pediatricians do?

Education path to become a pediatrician.

He sat there for hours, sitting and thinking and staring and brewing in his thoughts. 

Hunk entered not long after, looking slumped from his day full of classes. He lugged his heavy backpack over his shoulder and threw the weight onto his bed, hitting the bed with a loud 'thunk!'. Hunk moved about their room, pulling out some clothes that looked more comfortable. He hummed a song as he changed and went to the bathroom to wash his face.

When Hunk returned to their room, Lance finally spoke.

"I'm going to change my major." He blurted this out.

Hunk stopped all movement, "Oh, really? Is this a good thing or bad thing?"

"Good thing. I've been thinking about it for a while…."

"Oh, cool. What were you thinking about changing it to?"

"I think I want to be a doctor…? Uh, work with kids, y'know?" Hunk hummed while taking a step back to examine him from afar. 

"Like a pediatrician?"

"Yeah, actually."

"That fits you." He didn't even hesitate, which felt good. He always seemed to know what to say.

"You think so?"

"Hell yeah. I think you'll like the white coat they get to wear."

Lance couldn't remember the last time he felt that light. He gave Hunk a tight hug and thanked him. He insisted that he didn't need to be thanked…but he did. Lance couldn't explain it, really. He also needed to thank Keith for the little confidence boost.

Speaking of Keith, he was absent again. Lance, of course, took notes for him, but it didn't stop him from worrying. This week, they were covering ecosystems. Living organisms. Producers, consumers, and decomposers. Membranes. Movement of molecules. Aerobic and anaerobic respiration. Photosynthesis I and II. 

Photosynthesis II: In space plants, the light energy from the photons strikes the chlorophyll in the leaves, which causes a chemical reaction between the mutated chlorophyll ionic hydrogen and water, creating 'Space Glucose,' or 'Space Sugar'—which was used to create "Food Goo" in 2115. It can use the ionic and atomic hydrogen present in the vacuum of space and convert it into energy.

He was mostly worried because this topic was hard to grasp for some reason…and he had to focus extra hard to write the best notes possible. 

The following lecture, he handed them over. Keith's critical eyes ran over the information written on the paper, stopping when he came across a specific section of the writing. The guy just stared; it was apparent he was trying to force down an expression. Embarrassed, Lance leaned over to look at what he was fixated on.

"Is something wrong? I know my penmanship isn't the greatest…."

He shook his head, signaling that nothing was wrong…so what was with his expression? 

"What're you looking at?"

Keith pointed to 3 separate instances where he misspelled a word. Really, a little spelling mistake…

He read over the word once.

Then twice.

Three times.

No, he did not.

"I believe the correct word in this scenario would be organism…not the former."

Oh my god, can he just be struck down? 

"Oh my god!" said his mouth on its own.

That caused Keith to throw his head back in laughter, releasing a hearty laugh.

Oh.

It was such a wonderful sound, really. It was so bubbly, light, and out of character that it shook Lance to his core and pulled him in. It pulled him in, and he couldn't resist it; he couldn't look away, no matter how hard he tried. 

"Oh my god!" repeated Lance, "I'm so sorry!"

"Don't worry—I'm sorry for laughing," he said while still laughing.

"No you're not."

"I am, really."

Lance pouted.

"Seriously. I'm sorry for laughing. I really appreciate the notes. Thank you, Lance."

He could forgive him…this time. Only because he apologized…and because he thanked him…no other reason.

He needed to lie down.

More time passed. 

More exams. 

More studying and tutoring.

After a particularly confusing lecture, Lance went up to his professor to ask a question. 

"Mr. McClain. What can I do for you?"

"I just had a question about number 14 on the last exam…." She answered it, impressed by how quickly he understood his mistake. He thanked her.

"It's my pleasure. Do you mind if I ask your major?"

She gave him a questioning look when he rubbed at his neck. 

"I'm a psychology major, but I'm in the process of switching to nursing."

"Ah. That's quite a change."

"Yeah…"

"I didn't mean it in a bad way, Mr. McClain. You'll be able to handle it."

"Thank you. That means a lot."

She nodded, scooping up the papers that lay on the podium.

"You and your friend are doing very well."

"My friend?'

"Yeah, Mr. Kogane." She seemed confused at his confusion…Lance considered him a friend, but was the reverse true? He wasn't so sure.

"Oh, yeah. Keith. He's very smart."

"Yes, he is. It's fun watching you two—wondering who will get a higher exam score." An unspoken 'McClain versus Kogane' scenario. He laughed at that, remembering his self-proclaimed rivalry against the other. I was right, he thought. 

"Yeah, he's a tough competitor, for sure."

She nodded, "Yeah. It's just nice to see him relax a bit. He probably has so much pressure put on him…with school and his mentorship. I'm glad he made a friend in this class."

"Y-yeah. I'm glad I can be his friend." 

He left with a lot of unanswered questions.

After investigating more into Voltron University and its mentorship programs, Lance found a decent amount of information. It turned out…Keith was being mentored by Takashi Shirogane. 

The Takashi Shirogane. 

There was no fucking way…

That was a household name. Everyone knew who that was.

This led him to do more Googling:

Takashi Shirogane.

The Galaxy Garrison: Pilot, Takashi Shirogane. Active since 2116. Affiliations: THE GALAXY GARRISON INSTITUTION OF SPACE EXPLORATION, VOLTRON UNIVERSITY…click to view more. 

The Garrison News: Pilot Takashi Shirogane, known for his heroic navigation and landing of Space Ship "The Champion" with a broken piece in the engine, opened up a Youth Mentorship Program. September 2118. This program reaches out to youth from diverse backgrounds. It helps facilitate their curiosity for the unknown…click to view more.

Hm.

He continued to click through more and more articles, the day quickly turning to night. Hunk lay in his bed and scrolled through his phone while Lance did the same.

"Takashi Shirogane has a mentorship program."

Hunk hummed.

"…and apparently it's like, a huge deal for potential NASA recruits."

Hunk hummed again.

"…and Keith is in it."

"The guy from bio?"

"Yeah," Lance said, tapping his index finger on the back of his phone. 

"Huh, that's cool."

"Cooler than cool… it's amazing!" Hunk must have heard his smile from the other side of the room.

"Can I ask you something?" Hunk flopped himself completely over to face Lance in the dim light.

"Sure."

"Why are you so interested in him?"

"Who? Shirogane?"

"No, the Keith-Guy."

For some unknown reason, this question made Lance shoot up from his place in bed. He felt like he needed to go for a jog. 

Why was he so interested in him, anyway? Lance continued to think about the question. 

Well, the guy took a minimum of 18 units…and was a tutor. He didn't get tutored. He tutored other people. He was also a part of an internship program…and apparently planning to take summer and winter courses. He was the opposite of 'pick a struggle' Lance was almost begging for him to pick one. Like, please, pick something to struggle with! 

And what really tied everything together was that the guy was so nonchalant about it all. He didn't say a word about it to anyone! He was humble, for god's sake. Humble about how smart he was.

"H-he's a genius!" He dramatically sat down in his desk chair and rolled closer to Hunk. 

"A-and he's really nice—like he wrote me notes the other day when I ran late…and he's really patient whenever I ask him a question about something we're learning…and he's pretty funny, but like, on accident most of the time. Oh, and he's really fuckin' awkward, but like, in a weirdly endearing way." He was rambling at this point.

He paused to compose his thoughts. Not doing a very good job, he then said, "He's just…ugh," and gestured widely at the air. 

"What does 'ugh' mean in this context?" asked Hunk, unimpressed. 

"We're rivals," said Lance with an air of finality. 

"Rivals," repeated Hunk to make sure he heard correctly. 

"Rivals. He's the competition! I have to keep him close at all times. Gotta keep my friends close…but my enemies closer…and the Keith-Guy is my enemy."

"Huh, okay. Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

"Calling what?"

Hunk looked defeated, "nothing, nothing. The dude's a freshman, right?" 

"Yeah, he is."

"And he's a Physics major."

"Yeah."

"Just for clarification purposes—you're not a Physics major."

"Yeah, I'm not."

"Then why is he the competition, again?"

"…"

"Is there something else you want to tell me…?"

"Hunk."

"Yes, Lance?"

"Shut up."

Hunk smiled before letting out a large huff. He flopped onto his side, facing away from the other. 

"Well… g'night, man."

"Yeah, yeah, night." Lance turned off his desk lamp before tucking himself back in bed. He still didn't understand why he got up in the first place.

"Oh, and try not to dream of your' rival'." Lance threw one of his many pillows across the room, hopefully hitting the other in the face.

"Fuck you, man."

"Love you, too."

Lance was studying in the grass right outside the campus cafeteria, the one and only time he saw Keith around campus and not in their usual lecture hall. Keith was accompanied by two people who looked relatively older than him. He walked beside them with his typical brooding look while the other people talked animatedly at his side.

The guy on his left had ratty, light brown hair and had large circular glasses framing his eyes. The guy on his right stood the tallest and was more built. He had clean-cut hair and had his right arm in a sling. When Lance looked again, he realized that the guy with the sling had a very recognizable face—because it was, in fact, Takashi Shirogane. 

Holy crow! 

The three of them continued walking in Lance's direction, which caused his brain to somehow stop working altogether. Lance ducked further into himself, pulling his knees up to his chest for comfort. He looked at the floor in front of him. 

As they got closer, Lance accidentally made eye contact—and held up his hand in panic. He didn't wave. He just held it up like an idiot. 

He wanted to die. 

Keith gave a small wave in return before rejoining the conversation his friends were having. Takashi Shirogane must have noticed Keith's break in concentration and followed his eyes straight to Lance. He then looked away in even more panic. If he was any more freaked out, he probably would have jumped into cardiac arrest. 

He needed to get out of there.

So he did. He got up and walked back to his dorm, still feeling a set of eyes following him in his wake.

He caught himself nodding off during the following lecture. He was tired and only had himself to blame…he shouldn't have waited until the last minute to finish one of his assignments, but he did…which led to him staying up until 4AM. He then had to get up by 6:30 AM to make it to the lecture on time. 

He was startled awake by a light nudge on his knuckles. He looked over at the paper leaning toward him. There were two sets of crisscrossed lines in red ink, ready for a game of tic-tac-toe. 

There was already a red X in the top left box. So lance raised his blue pen and put a Blue O on the bottom left box. Red X dead center. Blue O in the bottom right to block. Red X in the bottom middle. Blue O in the middle right box. Keith gave him a bewildered expression before putting a Red X in the top center, winning. 

Oh, that's why he looked at him like that. A very obvious defeat. 

They played again. 

He lost again.

He couldn't ignore the smug look on the other's face.

At the break, Lance checked his phone to see a text from his older brother—which told him that his sister-in-law had gone into labor. Holy shit! He was so excited!

"My brother's wife went into labor!" He said.

"Congratulations. That's probably very exciting for you."

"It is! Do you have any siblings?"

"No. I'm an only child."

"That makes sense." Keith frowned, looking at him as if to ask, 'what does that mean?'. 

"You just seem very mellow…too mellow for someone with siblings."

"…I guess." 

Out of the depths of his memory, he remembered the article about Keith's mother, written in 2106…which meant that Keith was about 6 when it happened. That meant he probably never even had the chance to be an older brother… 

Fuck. 

Okay. 

He was walking a fine line and needed to change the subject ASAP.

"My roommate is an only child, but I wouldn't have guessed."

Keith gave him a questioning look.

"He can sleep through a lot of noise. Once time, I fell off of my bed during the night and he slept through it. Like a log. Definitely concerning, though. What if someone broke in? I'd be screwed! It would be a one v. one battle that I would most definitely lose."

"Huh."

"Yeah. Shocking, right? With all of my muscles, you'd assume I'd win…."

Keith gave him a not-so-subtle once over to look at his self-proclaimed muscles. He shrunk in on himself, suddenly self-conscious under his observant eyes. 

"I think you'd have a chance."

Lance smiled, satisfied with his comment.

"…but like, not a big one."

"Dude…" said a wounded Lance, throwing his hand across his heart for dramatics.

"Dude," repeated Keith, a small smile tugging at his lips. 

Finals week loomed over every student, especially the first years. Lance and Hunk were both sleep-deprived and over-caffeinated the closer it got to the final exams. 

After the last lecture before finals week, Keith actually approached Lance after class in the hallway. He noticed the way Keith held onto a piece of paper for dear life. He didn't say anything, though. He just stood there. 

"Hey, Keith. You okay?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm— I'm good. Bye." He said this before abruptly turning to walk away. 

"Woah, dude. You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah…are you…?" He gave him a smile that didn't meet his eyes, his hands still folding and unfolding the piece of paper. 

Lance gave a huff of relief, "Yeah, I'm good. I've actually been meaning to ask if you wanted to study for the final together!" Keith took a step backward.

"It doesn't have to be right now. I actually have a class in an hour…but any other time would be cool!"

"I can't. I have a…thing… right after this…and I'm pretty busy the next couple of days. I'm sorry." He sounded sincere, but Lance couldn't ignore his rigid posture and flighty eyes that looked everywhere but him.

"Oh, okay. No worries. Maybe next time." He gave him the most sincere smile he could. 

Keith nodded, saying a quiet 'yeah, maybe next time' before turning away. Then, after a few steps, he turned around and looked back at Lance, holding his gaze once more before walking away for good. 

Lance couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. 

He couldn't help but feel like that was a goodbye.

The second to last lecture was used for review.

Keith didn't show up.

He didn't show up to the final exam, either.

After finishing the exam, Lance gathered every last ounce of courage and walked up to the professor to ask about Keith's notable absence. 

"Oh! Mr. Kogane had a personal matter to attend to, so he took the final exam early. He didn't tell you?"

"No—I mean, probably. I must have forgotten," he laughed this off.

"…did you have any other questions, Mr. McClain?"

"No. Thank you."

"Thank you. It was a pleasure to have you in my class. Keep up the hard work." He nodded before heading out of the lecture hall, an empty feeling spreading through his chest.

And just like that, Keith was gone.

No trace left of him. 

If it weren't for the notable last name, there wasn't a single trace that he even existed. Lance's heart sank, wishing him the best before continuing on. 

That's just how college was, he guessed…

The petition to switch majors was soon accepted, officially changing his major after the first semester. He immediately called his parents and let them know about his change. They were proud of him.

He told them that it would be a while before he made it back home…and after his third year, he told them that he wouldn't make it back at all. He would visit, but he knew he would stay in this area for good. They were sad, but they supported him no matter what. His mother was so happy that he had found his thing. 

He continued on. He studied his ass off and graduated from nursing school with Hunk. He passed the MCAT. He was accepted into med school. After 4 years, he was accepted into a pediatric residency position at a hospital close to his old university, which was also the same hospital Hunk worked at. 

The two men were both ecstatic. They were so excited to finally reunite after their fun days at university ended. They reminisced about when they roomed together, went to stupid parties, and studied until they felt dead. It was wonderful to look back. 

He also reminisced on another memory as he searched for a name into Google. He had only ever searched the person once before; the first time, he didn't find any results. This second time, though, his name was found in numerous articles. Lance's eyes darted to a profile on NASA.

NASA News: Keith Kogane. Astrophysicist, Astronaut, Pilot. Employed as of January 2126. Affiliations: NASA, VOLTRON UNIVERSITY, THE GALAXY GARRISON INSTITUTION OF SOLAR SYSTEM EXPLORATION… click to view more. 

NASA News: News about NASA's latest mission to Saturn's rings! March 28, 2127. Click to learn more about their mission and watch an exclusive interview with Pilot Keith Kogane…click to view more. 

He didn't click, too hung up on the Identification Photo that popped up beside the text. It was him, with his dark hair and dark eyes, sporting a soft smile toward the camera. He looked happier. Healthier. More lively. 

The photo was somewhat close up, but it was easy to infer that he was wearing an orange space suit with the US Flag on his shoulder poking into the frame. One that real astronauts wear. 125 million dollars and all. He couldn't believe it. 

In another window, he searched for another name…one that was already highlighted purple in his search history: Krolia Kogane. He put the mother and son's pictures side by side. Twins. Matching outfits for their already matching faces.

NASA News: Late Astronaut and Pilot Krolia Kogane's legacy lives on through NASA's newest recruit, Keith Kogane. How her son follows in her footsteps to further advocate for space exploration, as well as at-risk youth…click to view more. 

Lance smiled. 

A year later, Lance was hired as a full-time Pediatrician at the same hospital. Since it was a permanent position, Hunk and Lance got their own apartment. They were roommates for a year before they bought their own houses 10 minutes from each other. They both bought each other housewarming gifts, which Hunk's long-term girlfriend thought was funny. 

Lance continued on. He loved his job. Loved his new coworkers and friends. He met Pidge and liked her nickname. He loved his patients; the kids were always a delight, even those who were deathly afraid of him. 

He always tried his best to create the best experiences for the children—always having a bag full of baby toys, books, and teethers that would relieve them of their fear. 

He looked down at one of the toys—a light blue teether in the shape of a spaceship—and smiled. He seemed to like the space-themed toys the most. He had bags full of little stars and spaceships and rings and planets...all of the objects reminding him of a fleeting memory…of a person lost to time. 

The day had been normal; normal patients, normal procedures. 

Everything was normal as Lance sat in a busy restaurant with coworkers. Lance, Hunk, Pidge, and Plaxum. The four talked about nothing but everything at the same time. They all updated each other on their days, circling to events they would do in the future. 

Normal, normal, normal. 

Hunk pointed to a banner hanging over the street, asking about the significance of the 'Clear Day Festival.' He had seen the banners all over town. Pidge and Plax's eyes widened.

"You've never been?" asked Plax in disbelief.

"I'm not originally from here!" defended Hunk.

"I'm also a transplant," said Lance.

"…still. You've never heard of it in the, what, 8 years you've lived here?" asked Plaxum.

They both shook their heads.

"What is it?"

"It's one of the biggest festivals in the state!" said Pidge, slapping the table with immense enthusiasm. "We have to go this year!"

That sounded good to Lance. 

"What's it like?"

"It's just a festival, but cool. There are rides and games and tons of food. From everywhere you can imagine," supplied Plaxum, the other nodding along.

"It's pretty cool," said Pidge, "granted…the last time I went, I was fourteen and couldn't play as many games as I would have liked to…."

"Lame."

"You're tellin' me. I wanted to keep playing this one wack-a-mole game, but I was young and broke…and asking my parents—no, my mom—for more coins was a pain…." Lance thought it was funny how frustrated she got over this past event. 

"My mom always gave me all the coins in the beginning and told me to ration them until we left," said Hunk, mumbling something about responsibility and whatnot.

Lance remembered when he went to an arcade…remembering when he and his siblings fought over coins. Or when his oldest brother snuck more tokens to him and his sister.

"My mom would never just give me the coins. She always insisted on having to 'earn them'."

"So, how did you earn them, then?" 

"I had to take a family picture…and smile." She pulled out her phone and started scrolling through her camera roll a bit before clicking on a picture. She showed it to the two of them.

After looking, Hunk pointed out that she was, in fact, not smiling in the photo. Lance was stuck on the familiarity of her brother's face.

"Yeah, I know. And my mom was at my throat about it…telling my dad we had to retake it and blah blah blah. My dad just laughed the whole thing off." She explained how that earned her dad a lot of 'Samuel! 's and exasperated sighs. 

"My mom still brings it up to this day."

"To this day?"

"To. This. Day." She pounded her fist on the table with each word, causing Hunk to laugh.

"And it wasn't even on purpose. The camera guy just took too long to take it. My face got tired."

"I'm guessing your mom didn't buy that excuse?" said Hunk.

"Yeah, no. She didn't—she doesn't tolerate non-smilers in pictures—like, one of my cousins never smiles in pictures and it drives her up the wall."

"Shiro?" asked Hunk. 

Shiro?

"No. Keith. I swear that guy couldn't pose for a picture even if his life depended on it." 

Keith? Like College Keith?

Don't be ridiculous. There are other people with those names. Think of the likelihood of it being the same guy. And he knew that there were at least two people in their late twenties that shared the same name. 

He shook his head.

She continued, "whenever he's told to pose, he gets all stiff and awkward."

"But isn't he always like, stiff and awkward?"

"He used to be worse."

"That's tough."

"I know."

Lance couldn't focus. 

Her name was Katie Holt. So that meant her dad was Samuel Holt, which weirdly rang a bell in his brain. It was like he'd heard it before or read the name somewhere…he just couldn't put a finger on it.

Pidge also knew a person named Shiro and a person named Keith. He knew that his Keith had an internship with Takashi Shirogane…and a brunette guy was walking with them the one time he saw Shirogane in person…and her brother looked weirdly familiar…

The resident chatterbox's lack of participation in the conversation seemed to have worried his two friends.

"Everything okay, McClain?" asked Pidge.

"No, yeah. I'm fine…I have a random question, P."

"Okay."

"What…do your parents do… for work?" subtle.

"My mom is a botanist and owns her own plant nursery. My dad also likes plants, but he retired a couple of years ago. Now he volunteers at my mom's job and teaches kids." 

Lance shook away some of the disappointment he felt. Nothing about space. 

Why was he disappointed?

And why was he thinking of space?

"…how do you feel about space?"

"uh… it's cool, I guess?" Pidge now wore a puzzled expression on her face, one that matched Hunk's. Lance's shoulders deflated again. 

It was just wishful thinking, anyway.

He continued on. 

He tried to pick up new hobbies. He tried gardening, planting a number of different seeds, and buying the most expensive soils. No matter what, he seemed to kill everything he touched. At one point, he desperately asked Pidge if she could help. She rolled her eyes before digging into his planter that reeked of death. 

He freaked out because everything was already dead. Pidge had to reassure him again (and again) that plants were way more resilient than he was giving them credit for. He had heard those words before…but he couldn't remember when…

Anyway, he now had a lovely garden in his backyard. 

He also tried embroidering. Painting. Learned that he hated acrylic. Spent his days off checking in on family; his sisters and brothers, nieces and nephews. His mom always seemed to ask a million questions about her health, despite his specialization in children. He could never reassure her enough that she was perfectly healthy.

He tried getting into skateboarding, but after almost breaking his arm, he decided at the ripe age of 32 that he was too old to continue the efforts. He wasn't in his 20s anymore and definitely didn't heal as fast as he used to. He was just going to stick to running…

He was nursing a bruised elbow when he got a text from Pidge, which was not uncommon, but it was a surprise nonetheless. Especially since it wasn't her usual meme or suspicious link that led him to another terrible video.

Pidgey: hey. you're a pediatrician.

Lance: that I am. what's up?

Pidgey: I need a favor. 

Lance: oh? tell me what ya need, pidgey

Pidgey: My nephew is sick and his dad is freaking the fuck out. Would you mind doing a home check-up tomorrow? 

Lance: i don't mind. send me the info

She did. Another message popped up. It had a number, along with a name: Keith.

Pidgey: He's a good kid. My cousin's also cool. He's just a nervous wreck rn. You can call him whenever, he'll answer. 

Lance: sounds good. i'll let you know how everything goes

Pidgey: Thanks. I owe you.

—

Lance walked up to the condominium complex around 2 PM; however, he proceeded to get lost for 10 minutes, walking through the complex a grand total of 3 times. In his defense, all the buildings were similar in shape and color. There weren't any defining features that distinguished one unit from another, except for the address numbers written in bold letters on the pillars outside.

Once he found the correct address, he fixed his coat (and hair) before knocking. He awkwardly rubbed his sweaty palms onto his scrub pants, exchanging the hospital bag between his hands. After a solid minute, the door flew open to reveal a black-haired man with pale skin holding the cutest baby Lance had ever seen. He saw the instant look of relief wash over the dad's face when he realized who he was.

Lance did a double take…and then a triple take. There was something too familiar about him and the way he stood there; the black hair, the almost black eyes, the pale skin, and the uncertain and flighty look on his face…

He cleared his throat once he realized he was staring, "Hi! I'm Doctor McClain. You can call me Lance."

"Yes. Hello. I'm Keith Kogane—“

—

He couldn't believe he saw him again…that he existed beyond the casual Google search. And he had a kid—like, a baby. A human child that he was responsible for, for the rest of his life…and he didn't remember him. Granted, it was a long time ago, but still. It hurt more than he would have liked to admit.

When Lance got home that night, he immediately called Hunk.

"Dude, do you remember that one Keith-Guy from my Biology class? First year of college." Lance was met with a response that left him stuttering in defense. He regretted mentioning it to his best friend.

Lance worked with Pidge the following day, and he knew that he needed to indirectly thank her...without her knowing what for. Usually, she came to lunch with some weird food combination that only made sense to her, so he decided to pick up some sandwiches for them all. With the bag in hand, he skipped/walked to the cafeteria, where they met for lunch. 

He threw the bag onto the table, interrupting Pidge from the article she was reading. She glanced at the other in irritation...and then curiosity...and then extreme interest once she saw the food.

"This is for you, my dearest Pidge."

"You're acting creepily nice…" said Pidge, grabbing the sandwich that was offered to her and inspecting the contents inside of it. "Last I remembered, you did me a favor yesterday."

"What? I can't be nice to my bestest buddy in the whole wide world?"

She narrowed her eyes skeptically, "McClain, what dumb shit have you been up to?"

Lance shrugged his shoulders and mimed that his lips were sealed. At the same time, Hunk sat next to him. After greeting the pair, he turned his eyes expectantly toward Lance.

"Did you end up texting the cute guy from yesterday?"

"Hunk—" whisper-shouted Lance. He wasn't supposed to say anything about it!

Pidge's eyes grew 5 sizes bigger than they usually were, her mouth stilling over her next bite of the sandwich.

"Did he not tell you? He went to a house appointment yesterday and was totally hitting it off with the kid's dad! He wouldn't shut up about it all night and then I tried to encourage him to text him again—but he claimed that it was unprofessional and whatnot…."

Lance looked between his two friends and tried to tame the twitch in his left eye. In response, Pidge just slid her head into her hands and let out a loud grunt, which didn't stop Hunk from continuing. 

"…and I told him that it wouldn't be unprofessional because they knew each other from college a billion years ago, but then Lance started freaking out because there's definitely a baby momma...and then he began freaking out about how gorgeous she probably is—"

"Hunk, buddy—" 

"—and then Lance was freaking out because of how hot he—"

"Hunk, please stop," begged Pidge, her face an unnatural shade of red. Hunk looked up innocently at both Lance and Pidge, unaware of the chaos he had just created.

"What?"

"…"

Pidge just turned to him with a scrunched face of disgust. He wasn't sure whether she was going to punch him or throw up.

"Lance. I gave you his number so you can check up on the baby…not hit on his dad."

"In my defense..."

"Lance, if you keep talking I'm going to slap you." 

"No, no, no. Hear me out—"

She raised her arm to swing. 

"Pidge, seriously—ow. Okay. I'm done."

"You better be."

"I am. Promise." He held out his pinky finger.

"Good." Pidge swatted it away.

"I just…never thought he would have a kid."

"Yeah, I didn't think the guy had it in him," stated Hunk, as if Pidge wasn't across the table. 

"Hunk," said Lance, groaning into the palms of his hands. 

"Not in that way! It's just—he was so focused on school and graduating early...I never thought he would even consider a kid—" 

"Well, you're right about that," said Pidge, not offering any further explanation. Instead, she took another bite of her sandwich.

So he never considered having a kid? So the baby was an accident? Well, no—not an accident, but something he wasn't necessarily planning for at the moment. His mind was full of questions…but he dismissed them, realizing they were a little too personal to ask. 

He refocused his attention on the sandwich in front of him, his gaze soon catching his phone with a new text message displayed on the screen.

Keith Kogane: Nova finally exploded.

Lance laughed. 

That particular appointment—no, that particular father and son, weighed heavy on his mind. He wanted to know more about them…he wanted to see them again…but like, not in a weird way! He just...missed the guy. He wasn't afraid to admit it. It just felt wrong to initiate it.

It was as if his thoughts manifested into the sound of a phone call, promptly shaking him from his sleep. He checked the time—1:39 AM—and then the caller ID, which made him jump from his position on the couch.

Keith Kogane. 

Keith Kogane?! 

He answered immediately and was met with only background noise. 

"Keith?"

A sudden voice stumbled through sentences, frantically trying to explain what was happening. Lance could hear Nova crying in the background. The panic and distress from the other side of the phone call hurt his heart. 

He reassured the father that everything would be okay. 

"What if he's dying?"

He reassured him again. 

He would do it as many times as he needed—which he did. He did it again and again, buying everything they needed. Making sure Keith was okay. Offering to stay the night and watch Nova, and then watching him until Keith could fall asleep, along with the little guy an hour later. Bringing breakfast. Spending the rest of the next day in the pair's company. 

The day ended quickly because of how normal it felt. It felt right just sitting in each other's company—and when he was leaving that night, he met Keith's brother—who happened to be Takashi Shirogane. The Takashi Shirogane who had taken Keith under his wing and adopted him into his own family. It now made sense why he said he was an only child in their first year. 

They introduced themselves, Shiro almost beaming from excitement—especially as the guy expressed how glad he was to finally meet him. Shirogane was glad to meet Lance! Huh? Which sent Lance into a spiral because—what on Earth have Allura and Pidge told him? He had never refrained from saying or doing dumb shit around those two, so he was panicking about what Shiro knew.

Then the older brother said, "Oh, they haven't told me much. I mostly know of you from when Keith was in college—" Lance glanced at Keith, who looked like he was a second away from attacking the speaker. 

The words registered in his brain—which meant that Shirogane knew of Lance because of what Keith told him in college…which meant that he did remember him? 

There was a new level of trust after that night, which bled into the next day and all of the days after. They made it a weekly thing to meet up and get coffee, go to lunch, or have dinner. Sometimes both lunch and dinner. Other times, they would spend the day exploring the town to try and find new places for Nova. Lance went with the pair to different children's museums, parks, and aquariums. 

More and more days were spent together until they had their own routine; something new and ever-changing…and it was exciting. 

Big and small days. 

Loud and quiet days. 

It never mattered what kind of day. As long as they were together, it was bound to be a good one.

Nova's first birthday was an absolute rager. Well, not really, but the birthday boy and his entourage had a good time. He played and ate all day alongside his best buddies. Allura even had a cake made for him with a little spaceship, ate way too much sugar for his tiny little body, and then crashed at 10:30 PM. 

A week later, he took his first steps and never crawled again. He was very adamant about learning to run and attempted to climb everything that was elevated—which constantly gave his father a heart attack. 

Lance's 33rd birthday was also an event. His sister Rachel planned to fly in from Pennsylvania but then surprised him with more family in tow: their mom, dad, and sister Veronica. They visited for a week, and he spent it showing them around, hanging out, and introducing them to his little family. Of course, they already knew Hunk and were excited to finally meet Pidge and the famous father-and-son duo that was always mentioned in their weekly phone calls. 

On Lance and Rachel's actual birthday, his parents said they wanted to cook a meal for everyone at Lance's house. Lance and all of his friends insisted that they would cook, not their parents. They were the guests, after all. The oldest McClains, not backing down, handed a grocery list to two different adults and shooed them to retrieve everything they needed for the night. 

"What will you guys do while we're out?" asked their son. She looked past him and landed on Keith and Nova a little ways away. Keith was scrunched down, Nova-level, and buttoning up the tiniest coat he had ever seen. The toddler was squirming and restless, but patiently standing there until the task was complete. Keith held his hand out for a high-five, but Nova just clapped for himself. 

"They're a good little pair," said his mom. Her smile was soft. 

"Yeah, they are."

"Go be with them. We'll hold down the fort." 

He saluted. 

She saluted back before grabbing him and giving him a big kiss on the cheek.

"Oh, and don't forget the cumin, o esto va a terminar como la fiesta del Guatao."

"Yeah, yeah. Cumin… got it."

Nova ran around the house a bit more, grabbing one of his plushie toys and circling back toward the door. He passed Mr. and Mrs. McClain and waved profusely. 

"Do you want to tell them 'bye bye'? Say 'bye bye'!" Keith's voice was patient. Nova looked at the older pair and, as clear as day, gave them a loud 'bye bye!'. All heads whipped toward the source before they erupted into cheers. 

Holy shit!

"Nova, did you want to say 'bye bye' again?" asked Keith, who looked 2 seconds from bawling. He turned toward his dad and repeated the words to his face. Keith then tossed Nova in the air excitedly.

"Yes! Bye bye!" confirmed the father.

"Bye bye!" said Nova, once again making his family erupt into hysterics. 

After the hype died down a bit, they all left for the store and returned a couple of hours later with a comical amount of groceries. The parents cooked for hours and warded off anyone who insisted on helping…except Keith, probably for a reason Lance was going to ignore. 

From what Lance observed, Keith helped with slicing and dicing everything alongside his parents, enjoying their company and the many stories from when Lance and Rachel were children. Lance had to interrupt at one point because it was getting too embarrassing. Keith's help was no longer needed once they began actually cooking the materials, which Lance could tell he was grateful for…

Nova ran to his no longer-occupied dad and begged to be picked up. The dad obliged and took him back to the kitchen to continue talking to the oldest McClains. Lance could hear his mom cooing from where he sat with his sisters. He purposely ignored how they both elbowed him when they heard the different nicknames their mom called the toddler…one of them beginning with the letter' n' and ending with 'ieto.' 

He gave his parents a 'stop, you're embarrassing me' look from the couch, which was met with a look that said, 'deal with it, this man and his child are perfect.' Which, yeah, they were, but still. 

Anyway.

The rest of that night was perfect, like, it legitimately felt like he was in a dream. He and his sister each had their own small cake with 33 candles stuck into it. They blew them out, Rachel saying her dismays of how many candles were present. 

Everyone, minus Nova, understood the sentiment. 

A week later, Nova said 'dada' while looking for Keith around the house. He denied that he cried, but that was a big fucking lie. Lance could hear the tears through the phone when he called him. The kid then started busting out words every day after that. First, he said 'cow,' then 'gurt,' then 'ship,' which gave Keith a heart attack whenever he said it because it sounded a little too similar to another word…

He then started saying everyone else's names, starting with Pidge's, which ended up being a weird mix between "Auntie" and "Pidge"—PeePee, which almost killed Lance and Keith. Shiro had a more respectable name—Shi, which, again, gave the father a heart attack with how similar it sounded to a different word. Lance was 'ants'—which, yes, he cried the first time he heard him say it. 

Keith's 34th birthday was celebrated with his family and friends two months later. They bought food from a restaurant in town and brought it to Keith's place. Unfortunately, he ended up working that day, so he was the last person to arrive at his party. 

Since he was the last to arrive, the Holt siblings and Hunk were able to decorate his place with a bunch of streamers and signs—many of them done with the help of Nova's little hands. He was pleasantly surprised by it all. 

They sang 'happy birthday' to him, with a starry-eyed Nova sitting on his lap. He let his son stick his hand in the cake to taste the frosting—only to have a frosting-covered hand reach for his face and pull him into a 'kiss.' The kiss was still just Nova pressing his open mouth against the other and making an exaggerated 'muah' sound. Lance couldn't ignore the dopey smile on Keith's face, despite the slobber and frosting. 

Even with those big and loud times, the quieter times also filled him with the same happiness. Nothing could match the happiness when it was just the three of them at the park or at his house making dinner after a long day at work.

The small moments of cooking together and laughing together and existing together—the times when Keith needed him to be there, and he was. He would always be there for both of them. And Keith did the same for him. 

He was there whenever he needed to rant about a new idea, or a patient, or a random story that occupied his mind, never losing his patience. He never made Lance feel like he was 'too much' or 'too excitable' about the smallest things. 

And it wasn't like he was insecure about that anymore, like when he was a kid. He was well past questioning himself and being insecure in his decisions. He was confident with himself and had known who he was for a long time. 

He no longer needed to pretend. 

And he especially didn't need to pretend in front of Keith. He never had. He had known it since the day he met the guy. Ever since the pointless biology lectures they spent side by side—when he wasn't pushed away, regardless of how senseless or obnoxious or loud he was. Ever since the first time Lance felt that familiar pull toward him, he wished to never be pushed away.

…and when that familiar push returned years and years later, it was as if nothing had changed. He still felt that comforting tug that always pulled him…and this time, he promised he wouldn't lose Keith again like he had before. 

—

Lance finally finished cutting the fruit into small bites with the help of Nova, who sat patiently on the counter. After wiping his brow, he looked out to Keith in the backyard, who was assembling a slide with an evident look of frustration plastered across his face. The tension radiated from him and festered into the scrunch in his eyebrows and the stiffness of his shoulders. 

He must have noticed the two sets of eyes on him and looked at the pair inside. He smiled before returning to his project a little more relaxed. 

Lance set Nova down before opening the screen door, the 14-month-old sprinting outside and crashing into his dad's arms not even a minute later. Now flat on his back with the kid draped over him, Keith quickly rolled over to stand up. Nova's head followed him all the way up, standing himself up in the process. 

Keith took an offensive stance, ready to attack the tiny attacker. Nova already knew to run away, leaving with a trail of giggles behind him. They ran around in circles for a couple of minutes. Both of their laughter grew with every uneven step in the grass.

Lance was enamored by the scene of them darting around the small yard. But, he could tell that Keith was low-key winded by the quick movements of the toddler…the same toddler who looked like he wouldn't be stopping anytime soon. 

Lance finally made it outside with a plate full of fruit and crackers. He was immediately greeted by a running Nova, who found refuge behind his legs, squealing as he ran for cover. Keith gave him a look to say, 'it's your turn' before grabbing the plate and sitting down in the grass. With that, Lance began chasing the little one around until he was exhausted himself. 

The trio sat in the grass for a bit and rested. Nova liked the strawberries, and Keith kept repeating the word for him to say it. Nova eventually said an attempt at the word, mostly sounding like 'sterry,' which was cute. 

Lance eventually scooped him off his wobbly legs as the sun began to set and promised they would go outside tomorrow. Nova, still not quite old enough to understand, was upset until his dad found a new way to lift his spirits. 

Yogurt. 

The kid loved that shit.

Nova was taken from his arms; Keith gave him a light squeeze on his bicep before entering the kitchen and opening the fridge. The kid's face lit up in excitement, reaching toward the recognizable object. He chanted his version of the word 'yogurt' in his own almost-language. Keith chanted along with him. 

Lance stood in awe, realizing how in love he truly was—in love with this person and in love with this feeling that swelled deep in his chest and tugged him forward. And this wasn't some earth-shattering discovery, either. He had known it for a long time, letting it wrap its gentle and familiar warmth around him in an embrace until he was fully enveloped. It was so familiar, like the ocean's current...and he admired how bright the other shined, even after the sun had set—like the moon and its ability to illuminate the darkest nights.

He thought of his grandmother. How she always admired the moon and its beauty. How she basked in its light whenever they sat on the sand.

He remembered the night of his high school graduation when she told him the Tale of the Tide...and how she somehow knew he needed that little 'push' of encouragement to leave. To find himself.

He was so grateful because, without it, he never would have left—ultimately never creating the life he now loved.

He would never have found his purpose. 

His pull. 

His moon.

But he did.

He just wished that she was here to see it. 

Chapter Text

Earth had once been known as a self-destructive planet—destroying herself with her own elements. She tore at her own scabs and watched the blood seep into her oceans to form angry mountains that roared to life. Her surface was covered by nasty winds, dense forests, unpredictable temperatures, and darkness.

Nasty winds pushed and pulled from the shadows, grabbing limbs and garments until victims were torn apart. Dense forests created deep labyrinths that twisted and turned until the most skilled travelers didn't know forward from backward. Temperatures were more extreme, freezing and melting the humans until they couldn't reform again. 

And darkness. Once the sun was tucked away, the planet was shaded; completely consumed in this blackness for roughly half of each day…

Humankind lived on her surface during this time. They worked with what they were given, always building until she inevitably knocked it down. Living, until she decided for them to pass. 

That's just how it was before the Tide and the Moon; this cycle soon ending unbeknownst to them. For, the tale of the Moon began with a woman...a woman who fell in love with the sky and left her heart in it for all to use.

The tale of the Moon ironically started on the Earth's surface, in the innermost parts of her lands covered in dense forests—forests home to creatures that terrorized the humans during the night. Since these creatures roamed in the darkness, the people of the Earth would seek shelter until the sun returned the following day.

It was clockwork; however, while others would shield themselves from the darkness, there was a particular young girl that was drawn to look toward the freckled sky. She was mesmerized by the dull lights that twinkled across the black mass. 

'How did they get up there?' she would ask herself. 

'and how can I join them?' 

She would watch the sky slowly fade into the light grey of their stormy days, sometimes watching until the city woke up.

Once she grew and matured, her love for the sky never faded. If anything, her fascination grew stronger. Her husband found her admiration toward the sky endearing, and her son found the Stars just as lovely. 

Weeks and months and years passed like this, until the day her husband failed to return. There had been an accident—the daily exploring group got lost in the labyrinth and was stuck out past the sun's curfew. The darkness added the worst obstacle, which led to the city losing a group of 3 men—3 men lost to the darkness of the night. 

In the sorrowful nights that followed, the heartbroken woman would hold her son and dream of the stars—of the space that hugged them from above…out of reach but not untouchable. 

She saw weird snippets of herself standing firm on Earth, but also blurs of her in a metal machine surrounded by light. She dreamt she found a way to bring the Stars down and illuminate their dark surface. She dreamt that it allowed those who traversed the forests to always find their way back home…and she knew she could make that a reality. 

With that, she knew she had to build a metal machine to carry her above the angry clouds. During the day, she would build, and she would look up to the Stars for hope during the sleepless nights. Hope that she would be able to meet them up close.

Years passed before her ship was ready—engraving "Луна—Luna," onto the side, for it was her family name. The ship was able to carry herself and all the items she wanted to show the Stars in hopes they would help them. The people from her city believed she would find a way to illuminate their planet with the help of the Stars. So they helped her pack items that properly represented what they loved about their world.

The woman left in the dead of night when the Stars were already shining their brightest. She went up and up…and after the quick ascent, she miraculously made it into the depths of the sky. Mesmerized by the brightness, she rode around to get closer and closer, curious as to how she could bring a star home with her. 

The Stars, curious by the new life form that entered their space, watched as the woman danced through their home. They liked how she mumbled to herself, asking herself questions about the light surrounding her. The Stars watched the curiosity and wonder radiate from the woman; it shining almost brighter than the Stars themselves. They found her admiration endearing, like a starry-eyed child curious about the world around them—and instantly drew them to her. 

Curious of her curiosity, they decided to initiate a conversation by answering one of her many questions. Startled, the woman looked around for the source of the response and was surprised when she saw it was the Stars themselves.

They answered more of her questions, and she responded to their questions for her, for both of them were curious about the other. Questions and answers soon bounced between the pair in quick succession. 

The woman was eager to tell them more about her planet—about where she came from. She introduced the Stars to the shadowed planet that spun below them—the Earth. She introduced them to the people that inhabited the planet—to humanity. She talked of her husband. Her son. The forests. The animals. The plants that weaved themselves across the ground and grew toward the sky. She showed them the damp soil from the Earth's surface, handwritten books about her people's history, drawings of the animals that roamed around their city, and bouquets of flowers that once decorated the tallest bushes. 

She even brought a tiny seed, hoping the Stars could see and understand its beauty. How it started from something so small and could sprout into trees and forests that could be seen from space. It was something so unique to their planet. 

The stars fell in love with her and her love for her planet, despite its harshness. Despite its darkness… they wanted to help her and the other people of Earth.

When the sun finally began to creep toward her home, she knew she had to return; promising the Stars that she would be back with time. To help, they gave her a bright star to carry home. She was grateful—and eager to tell her son, everyone, about the brilliance of the stars and their willingness to help. 

However, on her descent back, she could not locate the planet due to its darkness on the surface. She got lost, crashing before she even reached the Earth's atmosphere. All of her belongings scattered into the emptiness of space…leaving pieces of Earth sprinkled across the sky…the Stars unaware of it all.

Her son waited and waited for her to return, looking to the Stars for any signs that she was still out there. But after many years, he decided that it was a fruitless gesture. She was not going to return—and he knew he needed to find her. 

In the sorrowful nights that followed, the heartbroken child slept alone and dreamt of the stars—of the space that hugged him from above…out of reach, but not untouchable. He knew it was possible to reach. After all…his mother did. 

He saw weird snippets of himself standing firm on Earth, but also blurs of him in a metal machine, older, and surrounded by light all around. He dreamt that he had found a way to illuminate their dark surface. That it allowed those who traversed the forests to always find their way back home…and he knew that he would make that a reality.

With that, the son began to build, trying to remember how his mother constructed her metal space machine. Years passed before his ship was finally ready—engraving "Луна—Luna" onto the side, for it was his family name. It was an upgrade from the other. It was able to carry the items he wanted to show the Stars—items that could help him find his lost mother…or even possibly bring a star home to help find his lost father. 

The son—now a young man—left for the stars before the nighttime even began to creep, leaving around dusk, and making it to the stars not too long after. He had a mission and was sure to complete it.

Once exiting the Earth's atmosphere, his heart sank when he found bits and pieces of debris that looked like it was once a part of his mother's ship. He looked around for his mother, hoping to finally be able to bring her home. He looked and looked, frantic, for any sign that she was still out there…

The Stars, curious by the new life form that entered their space, watched as the young man raced through their home. The Stars watched his frantic movements, the determination radiating from him—almost brighter than the Stars themselves. They instantly felt drawn to him—similar to someone else in a way they couldn't describe.

Curious about this new life form, they asked him who he was and why he was there. He responded, saying that he was from Earth and looking for someone who was lost. 

"Lost?" they asked, not knowing what the word meant.

"My mom. She never made it back home," said the young man, pointing to the planet below. He then explained what happened—how she never returned. How he found the wreckage floating all around. 

He then begged the stars to help find her…or for a way to help their planet. Something…anything, so his mother's trip, her sacrifice, wasn't for naught. The stars agreed to help, giving him a Star to bring home, and promised to watch him as he returned home. The young man was grateful, thanking them before leaving, feeling a new sense of determination he had never felt before. 

Despite everything, the dangers of space did not discriminate against their next victim. Just as his mom had struggled, he, too, had a hard time navigating his way home. He was lost—the ship soon crashing. The pressure outside quickly engulfed the ship and everything inside… 

…But this time, the Stars were watching…unable to contain their grief, they began to explode…mourning in the only way they understood. Each and every shaky inhale wound up for the bright detonation of the exhale.

These flashes happened everywhere, lighting up the entirety of Earth's sky for just a second. Whether a coincidence or the mere timing of fate, the Stars' explosions mirrored another blast that occurred in the deepest waters of the ocean. 

Once the debris cleared, the Stars looked at the aftermath—startled to see a big rock settled near the Earth—illuminating the planet in the most perfect way and creating a friendly sky during the nighttime. 

Surprised at his survival, the young man looked down at himself and couldn't believe how brightly he shined. He then looked to the Earth in awe at the light reflected against the calm waters. He stared, squinting at the brightness and feeling the cool ocean reach toward him, pushing and pulling him gently like an excited friend. 

A gentle magnetism that felt like home.

The son, the Moon, now watched the bustling inhabitants of Earth from above. He watched as they thrived with the calmer winds, calmer seas, and illuminated nights. The deep forests were now a part of their home, and the creatures that once terrorized the people now sat obediently alongside them, helping them hunt and find. 

Decade after decade, century after century, he sat alone and watched from space around the planet Earth. He watched and felt as the blue parts of the planet tugged on him. He was grateful for the companionship. He was grateful for the friend that was always present and sending him a cool embrace that could be felt from his place in the sky. It was a reminder. A tether to his mother and father's home.

Decade after decade, century after century, he sat, forever thankful, despite being created from a string of tragedies. 

Thankful for his father's love and his loss. 

Thankful for his mother's courage and sacrifice. 

Thankful for the Stars' explosions that rang loud and bright in the sky. 

Decade after decade, century after century, he sat, living a life born from these tragedies, but in turn, he was now a beacon of hope to those on the planet Earth. Going forward, he was now a light that shined, even when the sun was tucked away. He was now a guide for those trying to find their way home. 

He was a light that brought hope—showing just how beautiful tragedy could be in its wake.

—

Keith could have sworn he grabbed Nova's well-loved spaceship toy when he walked out the door, but boy, he was wrong. He brought other plushies and rattlers, but Nova was picky and wanted that particular one. He repeated the word 'spaceship' from the car to inside the restaurant. Keith had to keep telling him that the spaceship went 'night night' to avoid him throwing a fit. 

So, as both he and Lance carded through the breakfast menu at their regular breakfast spot, Keith occasionally handed the toddler several items to keep himself occupied. The items ranged from straws to empty creamer packets the adults had used.

After some time, Nova's interest began to run thin, and he soon begged for something else to play with. He was handed a green crayon and looked at the object like it offended him. "What the heck am I supposed to do with this?" is what his face said loud and clear. 

"You color with it. Can you do that? Co-lor," asked Lance, drawing out the last word as he demonstrated how to do the action. Nova's little voice repeated the word. His eyes followed Lance's red crayon run along the paper menu, immediately trying it out himself. He was still too young to grasp the concept completely, but the effort was apparent.

"That looks so good!" encouraged Keith, "the color choice is very nice…and I love the little circle you put right here." He tapped at the top corner of the paper, which was full of spontaneous circular scribbles and dots. Honestly, it wasn't bad for someone with underdeveloped motor skills. 

Their coloring session was paused when the waitress came over to take their order. Nova was especially chatty, excited to see the familiar face. He waved and smiled at her, talking while he pointed at the paper in front of him. She complimented his artwork before asking if Lance and Keith wanted their usual orders. Keith agreed, but the other adult shook his head, saying he wanted to try something new. 

While waiting for their food, Keith found himself sucked into a friendly game of tic-tac-toe on a napkin. He won two games in a row before Lance turned it unfriendly and accused him of cheating.

"How do you even cheat at this game? You watched me draw the X."

"I don't know…but I feel like you are."

"Would you feel better if I let you draw the Xs for me?" He smiled cheekily at the other.

"Don't be smart with me…."

Keith smiled. 

"…if I draw the X's for you, I might as well play by myself," said Lance.

"Oh sick, that means you might actually win a round." 

"Might? I swear—" The waitress placed a stack of blueberry pancakes in front of the Sore Loser before he could finish the threat. Keith smiled innocently at the waitress when she placed his plate on the table; it was filled with egg whites, sausage, and diced potatoes. The waitress already knew to put the yogurt and extra plate in front of Nova, whose eyes lit up at the sight. 

Keith transferred some of the food off of his plate onto Nova's. Lance did the same, withholding from giving the kid full access to the syrup because of last time…

The father held out the home-brought baby fork for him to grab and feed himself, stabbing at the sausage perfectly, while opting to grab the egg whites with his fingers. 

"What's that?" he asked while pointing to the pancakes on the plate.

"These are blueberry pancakes, Noves. You like blueberries, remember?"

He tried out the word 'blueberry' on his own tongue; the 'b' and 'oo' sounds bounced clumsily out of his mouth. He did this a few times before tasting the new food. He liked it, of course, and thought it was the funniest thing in the world to squish one of his uncoordinated fingers into the mushy berries. Once squished, he would look at the adults like he was caught doing something bad. Lance also made him try ketchup (again) with the eggs, but he still was not a fan. So much so, he would shake his head in disgust, physically push the food away, and say a stern "No. No, thank you."

He ate more yogurt, potatoes, eggs, and pancakes until he was quite literally in a food coma. 

"All gone," said a sleepy Nova, his head looking a little too heavy for his neck to support it. Determined to stay awake, he grabbed at anything and everything in the radius of his arms. He found a napkin. A spoon. 

He found himself the most entertained by a straw—amazed when he was able to unwrap the paper and reveal the plastic. He waved it around and used it to point at things he liked. At one point, he yelled a loud 'hi!" when he saw a waiter he recognized from previous visits. That got the older waiter to walk over and greet the trio.

Nova pointed at his dad's plate, "dada food!"

"Yeah! He ate his food!" replied the waiter enthusiastically before addressing the adults, "how old is the little one now?" He gave Nova a fresh straw to unwrap. 

"20 months—almost 2 years," he said quickly, feeling embarrassed for using months instead of years. He never understood why parents did that until he became one himself. Months made such a big difference when it came to babies.

"That's insane. I remember when he was just a little guy!" 

Keith smiled. Time really did fly with Nova. It seemed like yesterday he learned to crawl, weaned off drinking formula, or could finally fit into his 12-month clothing. It was scary, yet exciting with how quickly he was becoming his own person. 

While lost in thought, he heard Lance respond for him, making small talk with the waiter. He was grateful for his social companion. 

As they left the restaurant, Nova's eyes sparkled when he heard the jingle of the car keys. 

"Go bye-bye?"

"Yeah, we're going bye-bye. We're going to the store. You like the store," said the dad as he plopped him into his car seat. He needed to buy more baby items in bulk, so they had to make a pitstop.

"Store."

"Yup, store." Keith patiently watched Nova buckle the top strap of his seatbelt—insisting that he could do it himself…and he could, just not quickly. 

"Oh, yeah. You're gonna love where we go next, Noves. You like this place a lot," said Lance from the passenger seat. He said that as if he wasn't just as excited about the free samples inside the store. Especially since Lance usually got to eat double. Keith didn't like trying the food most of the time. So because of that, Lance always got to grab two without feeling guilty. 

Once they drove close enough, Nova began to recognize the area. He pointed out the trees and the sky and airplanes, even if there weren't any. He just liked to talk…and when he saw the big logo of the store, all of his energy suddenly returned. 

"Cah-co!" is what he shouted excitedly, associating this place with cool things to look at and yummy snacks to eat. 

"Yep. Are you excited?" asked Keith as he walked with him in his arms. He shook his head 'yes' before waving at Lance, who went and grabbed a shopping cart.

"Do you see the cart?"

"Car?"

"Cart. Shopping Cart. Do you want to sit inside?" He shook his head 'no' before motioning for Lance to hold him—and he did until the kid got a little too squirmy in his arms. While he pitter-pattered loosely around, the adult followed closely behind to ensure he didn't get run over. He also had to smile at all the people who were waved at by the ever-social Nova…and that was pretty much everyone he passed. Some strangers even got an enthusiastic 'hi!' or a confident 'hello!' said in the same cadence and tone as Allura.

Nova was an extrovert, heavily contrasting Keith, who avoided unnecessary conversation whenever possible. They were like night and day; Keith knew that Lance found it hilarious. The only good thing was that he pushed the cart a little ways behind the pair, so he wasn't the one that was forced to interact with every passing human in Nova's line of sight. 

After some walking, they finally hit their first sample for a pastry. Lance retrieved the goods, soon walking back over after eating one. Nova also ate one in Lance's arms. They then hit the second sample—microwave chimichangas—not too long after.

Lance and Nova were on their third free sample when Keith went astray, finding interest in this small jungle gym that would be perfect for the backyard. It even matched the slide he already owned… He dropped the idea before examining a box of baby crackers that were quote-unquote "packed" with nutrients. 

Lance and Nova finished their third food sample (microwave chimichangas) when their eyes lit up at the next. Ice cream sandwiches cut into generous-sized squares. Keith couldn't tell who was more excited as they both hurried away. 

He looked back down at the box of baby snacks. He didn't even need to look up to know the Snack-Buddies approached the food cart. The cooing from the worker was telling enough. Their voices were faint from across the way, but he could hear them well enough.

"Oh my. What'a handsome littl'fella!" said the Sample-Worker. 

"I know, right? He definitely takes after his dad," replied Lance, motioning toward Keith standing across the way. The dad shifted under the attention, soon rolling his eyes at the comment because who says that? 

The worker smiled, returning her eyes to Lance and Nova. She motioned for him to grab at the little squares sitting on napkins. He grabbed three. One for each of them. 

"Say thank you."

Nova, ever-so-excited, shouted a very confident "thank you!" for the whole store to hear and shined the biggest smile his face would allow. The worker chuckled with the surrounding adults before waving them off and walking toward the dark-haired man across the way. 

Lance held the three napkins in one hand and Nova's hand in the other, who was freestyle walking in a very unpredictable manner. He offered one to Keith, who declined, still studying the box of snacks. Lance popped one into his mouth. (Then the extra one once he was far enough away from the worker. Guilt-free, apparently.) He finally scrunched down to Nova's level and let him take a bite, making sure he didn't accidentally drop the whole thing onto the floor. 

"What do you think about the ice cream? Is it…delicious? Is it…yucky?" 

"Yummy!"

"What do you think is yummy?" A pudgy finger pointed to the treat messily oozing out of his mouth before taking another confident, yet clumsy bite to finish it off. Definitely too much. This was going to be sticky.

Keith ended up buying a pack of ice cream for the boys. He also gave in and purchased the small jungle gym he looked at earlier (to match the slide they had). Keith and Lance lugged it into the shopping cart and then into the car. It rested between the bucket seats in the backseat, easily accessible for Nova to slap his hand against the entire way home. Kieth had a feeling that if he didn't like the item, he would at least like the box. 

It was a little past noon when they finally returned home and finished putting away the groceries. The exhausted toddler immediately took a nap, giving the adults time to start a movie they had been meaning to watch for the past month or so. In other words, it gave them time to lay sprawled out on the couch and take their own nap until Nova woke up.

Keith woke up to Nova standing curiously in front of him, wondering why he hadn't been moving around like normal. 

"Where's Lance?" 

"Lance!" He then ran to his room, most likely expecting him to follow. With that, he got up, cracking one-too-many places in his back with a groan. He was starting to sound like his dad. 

Nova led him to the man he was looking for. He sat crisscrossed on the carpet with various toys spread all around him until Nova ran and jump-attacked him from the front. They both crashed onto the soft flooring—their giggles catching their fall.

"How long has he been up?" (A roundabout way to ask how long he'd been asleep.)

"He's only been up for about 10 minutes." Keith felt a frown rest on his own face. 

"You looked so comfortable. I couldn't wake you up…." Yeah, only because you were there. 

"You hungry?" is what he decided to ask next. Both bodies on the floor shook their heads 'yes.' "Okay. I'll make something real quick. Pasta okay?"

"Always," said Lance, giving him a salute. He saluted back before heading to the kitchen. 

They ate together. Washed dishes together. Lance then offered to bathe Nova while he finished tidying everything up, which was very kind. As he finished wiping the last countertop, he could hear the two boys in the bathroom. The splashing of the water was a loud echo that danced through the rest of the condominium. 

He could hear Lance talking about his day to Nova, explaining something mundane, but Keith could bet money that he was fully engaged in what he was saying. He also asked the kid a bunch of questions.

"What is this?"

"Water!"

"Oh! And what are these?"

"Bu-bos…"

"Bubbles, yes!"

"Play bu-bos?" 

"Yeah. You can play in the bubbles." He heard some splashing accompanied by laughter. 

"Oh. You think that's funny?" More splashing. More laughing. Nova would respond again and again, continuing their little conversation. Lance always found ways to talk about all the details of their day—Keith catching a part when he explained what a microwave was and its necessity to heating up chimichangas. 

Once the dad finished putting everything away, he walked to Nova's room and watched the pair together. Nova had brought out a book for Lance to read, associating it with going to sleep. He must have been pretty worn out to be the one to pull out the book.

"You want to read that one?" Nova nodded and handed the book to him. 

He plucked up the smaller one from the floor and sat them both on the creaky rocking chair. Nova squirmed until he was comfortable against the other. Lance held the book a ways away from Nova so he could see the pictures clearly and point when he saw something he liked. 

Lance began reading aloud. Simple words turned into sentences; Keith soon finding himself under the same spell his son was under. Both were enraptured by the worlds built once the words left his lips. Lance read and read until he looked down and saw Nova actively fighting sleep. He fell victim to large yawns and heavy eyelids—quickly shaking his head to wake himself up.

"Read book?"

"I am reading the book."

"Read book?" 

"Do you want to read to me?" He shook his head yes. 

The man motioned for the toddler to grab the book. With it now secure in his grasp, he flipped it and pulled at the thick pages before babbling away, mimicking what Keith and Co. always do. 

He talked and talked, Lance encouraging him through reactions. Little 'oh really's and 'that's my favorite part' or 'tell me what happened next.' Nova took this as an obvious sign to continue his speech, stringing together 'ba's and 'da's or drawling out 'doo's and 'ee's. He slipped in actual words every now and then—making it known that he was telling a real story in his own mind. 

However, the longer he talked, the more tired he became—the slower and more full of non-words it became and wearing himself out. He yawned twice and shut his eyes before throwing them back open to look at Lance, like he thought he would never see him again if he closed his eyes for too long. Honestly, that's how Keith felt at first, too, but he luckily had a more concrete object permanence… y'know, because he was an adult…

"Dada?" The two boys on the rocking chair looked directly at him. He felt like he was caught doing something he wasn't supposed to be doing. He smiled and approached the pair. 

"I'm here. You want to go to sleep?" He shook his head 'yes.' 

"Go night night." He lifted his arms to be held. Keith picked him up and walked him over to be placed into his crib.

"Yeah, you go night night. You're so sleepy," he bent down and kissed his forehead rapid-fire, "I love you, kid." He gave him one more kiss for good measure before taking his leave to the kitchen.

For the time being, Keith sat on top of the kitchen counter. He pulled out the instruction manual for the jungle gym he had bought. Instead of words, it displayed pictures that showed him how to assemble the pieces. However, the images were blurry and tiny, and it looked like they were missing a few steps...

Keith went over the contents of the paper a second and third time. Each time, he got more and more confused…and more and more irritated…

Lance emerged from Nova's room not long after, staying in the room until he knew Nova was completely asleep. 

The kid was spoiled, alright. 

Keith watched him move quietly about the kitchen, since the toddler had just fallen asleep. He went to open a bag of chips but flinched at the loud crinkle. He started at the bag in contemplation before 'full-sending' it and opening it in one quick pull. He looked at the door, expecting to see Nova emerge from his room and rubbing at his eyes, but he never did. He sighed in relief. 

After, Lance made his way over to Keith, a question ready on his tongue.

"What's with the face?" Lance crunched a couple of chips.

Keith frowned, "I'm not making a face." At least, he didn't think he was…

Lance poked at the crinkle in-between his brows, smoothing it out with his finger. His expression asked, 'you sure?'. Keith felt himself relax at the touch. 

Setting the chips down on the counter, he snaked between Keith and the instruction manual in his hands, Keith noting that he smelled like a mixture of his own shampoo and Nova's bubbly soap. 

Once comfortable against the other, Lance poked his eyes onto the page he was on. 

“You can’t force me to read these instructions out loud this time. They’re pictures,” said Keith. Last time, Lance forced him to read the steps out loud for assembly—because he knew that Keith was the type of person to jump into building the item before he even read through the whole thing…which wasn’t ideal for construction projects. So they both scanned a couple of pages.

"Who made these instructions?" asked Lance. He now had a matching scrunch in his brow.

"I don't know."

"Well, they need to be fired…it looks like they skipped a step?" 

"That's what I thought, too."

They continued to read—no, look at the pictures of the included items. Batteries? Not included. Cool. Did he even own batteries? The last time they needed some was for a 21st-century toy they found at the thrift store…and even with that, they had to scour the place and multiple stores to find the right ones. 

"I think I still have some coin-batteries at home," said Lance, the mind reader, "I can bring them next time, unless you want to assemble it tonight. I can always go get some.”

"No need. I don't think Nova will mind waiting another day.”

"I don't know…he was telling me about how cool the box looked…" he said, turning to face the other. 

"He'll definitely like the box…" said Keith, his mind jumping to when he bought his son a jumping swing at 8 months old. After an hour of assembly, the baby seemed to find the box way more interesting than the swing itself. It took all the energy in the world to separate the baby from his new emotional-support cardboard. It was a nightmare. 

"Oh, for sure," agreed Lance. 

"I'm just hoping he likes the object inside, too….”

"I think he will.”

Keith hummed. He thought so, too. What kid wouldn't like a multi-level jungle gym that they can jump and climb all over? 

"I had a similar play-set growing up," said Lance, "my siblings used it so much, it started falling apart by the time Rachel and I were old enough to play on it. Oh—and then my elementary school had a huge jungle gym. Both of my sisters broke their ankles on them, which is crazy.”

“How?"

"They jumped off of the top.”

“Why?"

"To prove a point or something. I'm not too sure.”

"My elementary school had this tall metal slide that would get over 150 degrees in the heat. My classmates would dare each other to slide down it when it was really hot outside.”

"That seems dangerous…?”

"Oh, it definitely was," said Keith.

"…"

"There was also this one guy who was known for always falling off of the swing every recess—"

Lance looked dazed while listening to him.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing… it's just—when I first met you, I thought you had been homeschooled…so it's weird to hear you talk about your elementary school days. Y'know…young Keith running around the rubber playground and whatnot. It's hard to picture in my head for some reason."

He thought he was homeschooled? What was that supposed to mean?

"L-like, only because of how off-put you looked in the lecture hall with all of our classmates. It was like you'd never been in a room full of people before—and I know a couple of homeschooled kids back home that were like that."

"So…you concluded that I was homeschooled?"

"Yes—and because you never laughed at my genius jokes that I said before class!…I think I just assumed you were homeschooled to make myself feel better." 

Keith stared into space, recalling all of the times that was probably true—all the times he didn't laugh externally when he heard a terrible joke escape the other's lips.

"Okay. That's a fair assumption." That earned a laugh from the other man.

"You're not even going to try and deny it?"

"No, I was lame back then."

"Just back then?"

He blinked at the other, giving him a blank look like the joke wasn't funny. He got the same look in response. 

"You weren't lame…just mysterious." This was said rather cryptically.

Keith groaned, "I think that's worse." 

"Nah, it's better than being known as like, an asshole or something…wait—did I ever tell you about the guy at the grocery store?" asked Lance. 

"Which one?"

"Albertsons."

"No, which guy?" asked Keith

"The doctor."

"The doctor?"

"Yeah, at the grocery store," supplied Lance.

"No, you never did. Did something happen?"

"Yes and no. We had this transfer doctor come in for a couple of weeks at the hospital—remember the guy I told you about that had the obnoxious hair?"

"Yes. Purple Haired-Guy."

"Yeah. Well, I saw him when I went to Albertsons two days ago—oh! When I got the cool alien bandaids—that same day. Anyway, we saw each other and said hello. Chatted a little. Normal stuff, right? Then as I went to leave, he said 'Bye, Dr. McClain', to which I told him to just call me Lance, since we're not at work. And guess what he did."

"What did he do?" asked Keith.

"He laughed at me. And said, 'okay, Lance. But I will always be Doctor Lotor to you. The least anyone can do is use my honorific'."

"He said that to you?"

"Yeah!"

"How pretentious," declared Keith.

"That's what I thought, too! Like, dude, I'm in jeans… you're in these god-awful khakis. You are holding 3 boxes of Froot Loops… and I am trying my best to balance these Fruit Roll-Ups on top of all the other junk I'm buying. The last thing I want to do is call you 'doctor' in the cereal aisle because your little man ego can't handle being called Glenn." 

"Wait, you bought Fruit-Roll Ups?" His whole body shifted in excitement, resembling the way Nova's did when he saw yogurt…or any food, really. 

"You only like me for the snacks I provide." He said this as he walked to his overnight bag and pulled out a box of Fruit Roll-Ups. They were the retro kind that Keith liked. 

"Oh, shut it, McClain. I like you plenty." Lance tossed him one.

"It's Doctor McClain. The least you could do is use the honorific." That earned him a halfhearted punch in the shoulder. Keith unraveled the sugar, separating the red from the plastic it clung to. He ripped it in half (to the best of his abilities) and handed one of them to Lance.

"I can technically use the title 'Dr.', too."

Lance blinked. "Oh yeah. My apologies for forgetting, Dr. Kogane." That made Keith throw his head back in laughter—a hand on his chest and everything. 

"—don't actually use it!"

"Why nooot?" He drew out the question in a lame attempt of a whine.

"It's embarrassing."

"For you. I think it's cool."

"I know you do. But what if we were on a plane…."

"Ooo. Where are we flying?" 

Keith stopped to blink at the other before continuing, "—what if we were on a plane and someone had a medical emergency."

"Okay."

"The flight attendant asks, 'is anyone here a doctor?' Would you want me to say that I am?"

"Well, no."

"Exactly."

"You're no fun." Lance pouted. 

"My specialty, really." 

"Shut up, that's not true." 

"I know," said Keith with a large smile. He crumpled the wrapper and set it beside himself on the counter.

"Okay, back to the plane scenario…." Lance said, grabbing the wrapper and throwing it away before returning to Keith.

"Okay?"

"Okay. The plane is actually experiencing turbulence, and there's someone that wants to know the exact speed and frequency of the bumps of air…." 

"Oh, shut up. I wouldn't be able to calculate that."

"C'moooon, Mr. Physics!" 

"That's Dr. Physics to you," quipped the non-doctor. 

"Oh my god."

Keith shrugged, still thinking about whether or not he could actually calculate the speed and frequency of the turbulence… He would need to know a lot of variables and do a lot of calculations. He would need a mathematician if he was being honest. 

"I would need a mathematician."

"Mathematicians scare me," declared Lance.

"Why?"

"You're telling me they understand what they learn?"

"…yes?"

"Yeah, that's frightening."

"Lance, did you understand everything you studied?"

"Well, yes."

"Okay, then, you're frightening."

Lance pouted again, "I'm just saying, there's an uncomfortable mathematician-to-mass murderer ratio goin' on…so I don't trust 'em…."

That caused Keith to laugh, "what on Earth are you talking about?"

"Ted Kaczynski." 

"Oh-kay…name another—from this century." 

"No." 

"Lance." 

"What! The fact that there's one should be alarming! He was a math professor and a murderer…" he lowered his head and whispered the next part into the back of his hand, "…and I'm pretty sure he only had the teaching gig for, like, tax purposes." 

Keith leaned back to get a better look at the man in front of him. He was in utter disbelief because of the ridiculousness of it all. The doctor fiasco at the store, the question about turbulence, his fear of mathematicians… All of those things were silly, yet Keith felt nothing but fondness. Admiration. 

Keith couldn't believe how much he loved him.

And this wasn't some earth-shattering discovery, either. He had known for a long time; he just couldn't put a name to the feeling until recently…and he loved everything about him. He loved how gentle he was, how patient, how considerate. The subconscious draw to him: always reaching out for each other after a long day, leaning against one another, falling asleep together, and waking up wrapped in their joint warmth. 

He loved how good Lance was…and by god, was he good to Nova. He was such a perfect fit into his family that it made him feel dizzy. Lightheaded. Stupidly giddy, like a teenager in a coming-of-age rom-com movie. It was sickening, but it made him so undeniably happy. He couldn't be mad about it. 

By Lance's expression, Keith must've had a stupid look on his face.

"What are you thinking about?" Lance poked him in the stomach.

"I don't know…everything?"

"Vague," commented Lance.

"I thought that made me mysterious," teased Keith. 

"Hm, yeah, you're right, but I thought you didn't like me calling you that?"

"I had a change of heart."

"In the past ten minutes?"

"Yes. The adjective is growing on me."

"Well, I can think of a couple more adjectives that would fit better…" he tilted his head forward mischievously. 

"Be nice."

"They were nice adjectives!"

"Sure they were."

"Honestly, they were. Pinky swear!" Lance held up his pinky. Keith took it with his own, dropping their interwoven hands to his lap. He played with his hands, drawing small circles, then letters. A word.

"Did you catch the word?" 

Lance shook his head, "no. Do it one more time." He closed his eyes and scrunched his face in concentration. It was cute.

"H-E-L-L-O. That was easy."

"Okay. Close your eyes," directed Keith, writing a new set of letters onto his hand. He dug into an old memory of him playing hangman against Katie—trying his best to remember how to spell the word she used. 

"P-A-R-E-I-D? O-L? Keith, it this a real word?" 

"Pareidolia. According to Katie, yes, it's a real word."

"You're such a fucking cheater. Twice in one day?"

"I didn't cheat at tic-tac-toe. You just can't admit defeat."

"How is it possible to win every time?"

"I don't know. How is it possible to lose every time?" Lance pretended to wind up and swing after that—Keith quickly grabbed at his wrists and brought them down to play with again. 

Lance looked up and locked his eyes on him. Black meeting blue—the void of the galaxy now submerged in the coolness of the ocean. Two realms that never sought to mix. In this, Keith found himself standing firmly in the sand, secured by the embrace of the tide. He was grounded and safe. When the current swept at his feet, he wasn't pushed under the water and left to drown. Instead, he stayed upright, completely supported by the Earth and her tide. 

The pull of the other man persisted, similar to the attraction of opposing magnets. Pulling him forward toward the kind smile. Forward, toward the cool blueness of his eyes, the same ones that he had fallen in love with over and over again. The blue eyes that never lost their gentleness toward him. 

He allowed the pull to take him, his eyes landing on Lance's face and trailing the light freckles carefully painted across his nose and cheeks and down his neck. Keith was tempted to count them right then and there, so he did. He counted, getting distracted before he could finish. His eyes soon trailed to the other man's lips and then back to his eyes, not failing to notice how Lance stared at his own in invitation. 

They both leaned into the pull, allowing the gap between them to close ever so slightly. Lance gently lifted his free hand to pull Keith closer. 

"This okay?" he asked, continuing once he got a small nod that it was. Because it was. It was more than okay, and the anticipation of it all was slowly killing him. The explosion could already be felt in his beating chest and sweaty hands and hitched breathing.

And once the explosion happened—once the two forces finally made contact—it felt like Keith was knocked entirely off his axis and sent spiraling down toward the Earth. The moment their lips collided, it was as if Keith was dumped under icy waters—the coldness burning his chest in the most exhilarating way. 

Each kiss burned deep. The first quickly turned into a second, third, and fourth—until they gasped for breath above water, only to find each other again right after. They were two opposing magnets that would separate, only to snap back together in need. In desperation. 

Keith leaned further into the other until he gained enough confidence to card his fingers through his short hair. The other man seemed to enjoy it, letting him know with a pleased hum that stole all the remaining air from his lungs.

Lance deepened the kiss, soon exploring his skin as he trailed from his mouth to his chin, along his jaw, and down the side of his neck—each kiss burning and leaving ghosts in their wake, aching for more. 

And all Keith could do was hold on, scared that he would slip away at any second. 

Scared that this wasn't real because of how foreign it felt for someone to want him like this. To need him like this…so he held on tight. Lance squeezed back, a reminder that he was there. Of course he was there. Ever-present. 

He was so delicate with him, despite his rough exterior created by others who had thrown and dropped him in the past. So gentle with him as he stole another kiss. And another. And another. 

It was intoxicating, but Keith couldn't stop his brain from thinking and overthinking it all…because now what? They finally crossed the line they had been tip-toeing around for months—too scared to bring attention to it…because if Keith brought it up, it was more likely to break apart. 

To crumble...and he didn't want that. He couldn't handle that. And now everything was going to change…and he didn't know what that think.

…and what if he was reading the situation entirely wrong? What if Lance just felt pressured to do this—to be with him…because honestly, why would someone as amazing as Lance choose him. Why would someone as kind and patient and caring and lovable choose someone like him—who had so many faults and issues and problems? Why would someone that amazing stay with him?

With a gentle hand on his forearm, he was stolen from his thoughts, "Hey, are you okay?" 

His concerned eyes were too much for him.

He felt himself stiffen. 

He didn't mean to flinch.

He didn't mean to push him back like he was burned at the touch. 

He thought he was over this. He thought he had worked past this, but the weighted contact now felt suffocating. It felt wrong, even though it was something so familiar. So warm. So right. 

Lance looked scared, like he had done something wrong, but it was the opposite. It wasn't Lance. It wasn't him. It was his own stupid brain.

"I'm so sorry, Keith. I—" started Lance, and Keith felt so guilty that he made him worry. That he made him feel the need to apologize. Keith shook his head.

Lance stepped even further away, sending conflicting signals to Keith's brain. He simultaneously wanted him to get closer and farther away at the same time. 

"No, Lance. I'm just…really freaked out right now," Keith still had his arm extended out in front of him to create more space between the two of them, "and I promise, it's because of me...I just—"

"Hey, it's okay. You don't have to explain yourself," reassured Lance, reaching out to comfort him, only to quickly pull away. He looked unsure of what to do, really unsure of how to comfort him. He was being so careful. And patient. And gentle. Of course he was…

"Keith, I'm sorry. I crossed a line—" 

"—No, please…please don't apologize. I-I just—" he took the other's hands and held them tight, pulling him closer. Then, he motioned toward the both of them, pressing his lips to his knuckles. 

"This is perfect. I just—" He needed to find the right words. He needed time to articulate how he truly felt—what he truly wanted to say. This wasn't something he wanted to mess up…because how does he explain that he freaked himself out? All on his own with his stupid brain. He paused again, now resting his head against Lance's knuckles.

"I'm just very overwhelmed right now."

"Why do you feel overwhelmed?"

Keith looked away.

"Is it because of me?"

"Yes." Lance's shoulders deflated for a millisecond before pulling himself together. That came out wrong, and he knew it. He could feel Lance trying to loosen their hold and step away…the expression across his face feeling like a kick straight to his stomach. 

He frantically shook his head, "but not like that! I just—" He grunted in frustration because he felt he couldn't say what he wanted. He felt like he didn't know how to adequately explain what he was thinking. He was getting angry with himself.

That was until Lance squeezed his hands reassuringly. Take your time, is what he seemed to say.

Keith took a deep breath before collecting his thoughts. 

"You are so kind…sometimes too kind, in my opinion. And you deserve so much—and I won't be able to give you what you need. I-i have a lot going on and you deserve someone better…and I think it would be easier in the long run to not waste your time on me…I know there's someone out there that can give you what you want—everything you deserve—"

Lance interrupted him, his tone upset, "'someone out there'…? But you're right here. I want you." He squeezed his hands tighter. 

It was Keith's turn to try and loosen their hold, "Lance. You deserve so much more…and I can't promise anything. I can't even promise you anything more than what we have right now."

"That doesn't matter to me! This is perfect, you're perfect—"

"Eventually, that won't be enough. Eventually I won't be enough."

"Keith…"

"Eventually you'll want more and I won't be able to give it to you." He looked anywhere but Lance, "I just think it would be best for you—" 

"—You don't get to decide what's best for me." 

Keith flinched, the other man noticing and quickly continuing, "I'm sorry. That was a little harsh, but I… I'm just, okay—Keith. I want to be here. For you. For Nova. And I know you can take care of yourself. Hell, you have been since you were a kid—but I want to take care of you."

Lance rested both hands on either side of Keith, who still sat on the counter, "I want to keep seeing your terrible bedhead in the morning, and Nova's little smiles when he learns something new. I want to keep laughing with you and being with you and living with you, even if we're both just waiting for time to pass like a couple of losers. I want to keep passing time with you because you make every second worth it." 

Keith absorbed every word. They were water, and he was dying of dehydration. He took in every word with desperation. He leaned his forehead against the other like he was a lifeline. A tether that was keeping him steady on the Earth.

"You don't even realize how perfect you are…."

The words felt heavy in the air, making it difficult to breathe. 

"...so, please, don't push me away. I can't lose you again," said Lance, almost begging, "please. I wouldn't be able to handle it."

Keith felt his heart ache with how fragile he sounded. He shouldn't ever sound like that—the desperation and fear woven into his words, unnaturally bleeding into his expression. It was a foreign look, and Keith didn't want to ever be the cause of it ever again. 

He quickly opened his arms for a hug, giving Lance the option to decline if unwanted. He didn't even know why he doubted—being quickly pulled into a crushing embrace. Being squeezed as if the other man was scared he would disappear if he let go. Keith squeezed him back, making sure he knew he wouldn't. 

"I'm sorry, Lance." It was muffled into his hair in a lame attempt to speak. 

"No—there's no need to do that."

"I just—"

"Hey," said the brunette, to get his full attention, "no apologizing. We'll figure this out together, okay?"

Keith nodded.

"Nothing has to change between us. Unless it's something you want."

A hesitant "okay" was mumbled into the other. Keith didn't think he could manage anything more than that.

"Do you trust me?" asked Lance.

Of course he did. How could he explain the trust he had in him—How he was like a cool breeze. One that gently woke him up from a nap in the shade. A breeze that directed his eyes to the sky—as if to say 'look up!' to show him that the storm had finally cleared…that the dark clouds no longer blocked his view of the stars.

"Of course I trust you."

"Okay. And I trust you. I know you'll let me know if I push for too much. You just need to let me know what's goin' on in here." He tapped at his temple.

He nodded and closed his eyes. 

"Thank you."

"You don't need to thank me for something like this."

"…thanks," he repeated, quieter this time. Lance poked him on the forehead.

"Hey."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't say that either."

"I'm just…sorry that you have to deal with this…."

"'Deal with' what?…you? Are you kidding? You' deal with' all of my hang-ups—like, how I talk too much sometimes, or get too loud. How I get angry or frustrated when I can't handle something…and my weird need to go running whenever I feel anxious—how I get sad after a few days without being with people." He paused.

"You know I have faults, but you still seem to like me regardless…and I feel the same way about you," Lance looked into his eyes, "I like you. Everything. Your stubbornness, your determination, your kindness, and your flaws: your anger, your sadness, your fear—because fuck, you wear them all so beautifully." 

He felt like he couldn't breathe. So overwhelmed with love and the feeling of being loved for everything he was. He was overwhelmed in such a way he hadn't experienced before and, honestly, didn't know how to receive it. 

Lance lifted a hand and wiped at Keith's face.

Oh. 

He was crying.

He felt another tear fall from his chin onto his shirt. 

"Why are you crying?" Worried.  

Because he just wanted to be normal, that's why. He was angry that he couldn't just live in the moment without his brain overthinking and ruining everything—upset that he got overwhelmed by everything around him, even when things were going wonderfully.

All of this was because of his past that clung tightly to him in a suffocating embrace. Its embrace only loosening recently with time, patience, and acceptance. How being born from a string of tragedies never seemed to leave him alone. How he had been able to overcome it bit by bit with the help of his friends and family over the years. How the loss of his parents was now seen as something beautiful, despite how it affected his upbringing. Despite how it affected his trust in others to stay, even into adulthood. 

"Hey, I'm here," soothed Lance.

"I know, and I love it, but I just. What if one day, you—"

"—I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere." He said this like statement of fact, and Keith believed him. He believed him, taking the words as gospel. 

"You're not getting rid of me that easily." Lance pulled him into another embrace, Keith resting his cheek against the side of his head. He felt himself finally relax. 

"How unfortunate," replied Keith with a small smile, tightening his hold on the other.

"Shut up. I think we just established that we both like each other, dork."

"Dork? Lance, what are we, in elementary school?"

"If we were, we would be the bestest of friends—terrorizing the metal slide like madmen." 

"I somehow believe that."

Lance took a pause before asking, "what about high school?"

"What about high school?"

"Do you think we would have been friends?" Would they have been friends? Of course, he would like to think they would have been, but they were also very different people back then.

"I have a feeling you were popular…."

"A lot of people knew me, but I wasn't popular."

Keith blinked at the other, "that's the literal definition of popular."

"Tomatoes, tomatoes."

He paused again.

"We might've had classes together," was what Keith decided as the best response.

"Yeah, but would we have been friends?"

"I was really quiet and didn't smile much, so people thought I was weird."

"So what? I don't know about everyone else, but when I met you, I thought you were the coolest person ever…and that was before I Google'd you!" Lance readjusted himself against the counter

Keith leaned back in surprise, "You Google'd me?"

Lance looked panicked, like he didn't realize what he had said until now, "No."

He barked a laugh from the depths of his chest. 

"You Google'd me," repeated Keith.

"Oh my god. Leave me alone." He looked mortified, his expression soon changing with his following words, "wait no! I don't get to be embarrassed about that!"

"And why's that?"

"Because I know that you talked about me to Shiro."

"W-where did you get that idea?" He tripped over his words. How could he have possibly known that? 

"Both Shiro and Pidge have mentioned a guy from your first year of college who happened to sound a lot like me." There was a teasing lilt in his voice. 

The dark-haired man looked away, embarrassed, "well, ignore them. They're only capable of saying dumb shit."

"Dude."

"Dude," repeated Keith in the same tone. 

Lance just stared and stared. 

"C'mon. They were totally teasing you. Did you think I was cute or something?"

Yes.

"No," lied Keith.

"Ouch, dude. You couldn't just humor me?" 

"No, I'm incapable of making jokes."

"Oh, don't be like that."

There was another pause, longer this time.

"You totally thought I was cute, huh?" Lance insisted.

He laughed before giving him a half-hearted punch, "Well, I'm not blind…."

"No need to sound so smitten."

"I will try my best to control myself." 

That earned a laugh from Lance, "that's much appreciated."

Keith hummed, pulling out his phone and typing something into the search bar. Lance's eyes followed, his face growing red when he realized it was his own name in the Google search bar. 

"Dude!" He quickly grabbed the phone out of his hand, locked it, and set it beside him on the counter.

"Dude," mimicked Keith.

"That's going to be Nova's next word. I'm calling it."

"I'm surprised he hasn't said it yet," Keith readjusted himself to get a better look at the man in front of him, "what do you want to bet?"

"Dinner," said Lance, looking back at him with a smile.

"Okay."

"Okay."

"Take out or dine-in?" asked Keith.

"Your choice. We have time."

"Yeah, we do." 

He smiled at that thought. 

Chapter Text

Decade after decade, century after century, the Stars were ever-present in the sky. Countless. Innumerable. 

They were an active bunch—some exploring and brightening the skies with large explosions, ethereal bursts of energy to signal their departure. Others raced one another across the sky. Others sang along to their songs, twinkling along with the rhythm of their breaths. Some Stars grew to be blinding, while others stayed hidden behind others. 

Always present. 

Always there. 

Always waiting alongside the Moon as he sat and watched the newly illuminated Earth. He waited amongst the active Stars, finding patterns and stories etched into the planet’s bright waters, roaring mountains, and lush forests. He would watch as the Earthlings created grand structures that reached toward their skies as they began to settle in the more deserted areas of the land. He watched as they began to explore their planet—an indication of their newfound safety. 

One night, when the Moon was entranced by the Earth and her waters, a sudden bright flash in the sky caught the Moon's attention. 

So bright, so brilliant—it lit up the entirety of the sky, blinding everything in sight. 

The Moon tried to blink away the spots that danced in his eyes, but he was blinded, forced to blink until his vision cleared. 

A whole minute of blinking. 

Two minutes. 

Three minutes. 

His eyes fluttered uselessly until he could finally see again—allowing him to properly survey his surroundings. 

His eyes caught onto something small lingering in the aftermath, something so tiny yet humming with life. He wondered what it could be. A burned-out star? A piece of a meteor? No. It was too alive to be a rock. 

Curious about this unknown, the Moon approached the small object with caution. He was scared he might crush it with his force, with his gravity. 

As the Moon got closer, the more confused he became. He reached toward it, soon delicately holding it in his hand and bringing it up to his face for further examination. He did not fully understanding what was floating in front of him. 

It seemingly took the shape of a seed…something that did not belong in space. Something that he had not seen in many lifetimes. Millenia. For there weren’t any plants sprouting on his surface. 

Upon contact, the rock sparked in his hand. It was electrical—its current quickly spreading down the Moon's arms and warming his chest the longer he held on. It was nothing like he had ever felt before. 

The rock soon returned the warmth—its touch grounding the Moon, which was how he knew for sure what is was. 

A Seed. 

Dormant yet electrical...but he could not think of how it ended up in his domain so far away from Earth. 

At the mention of the Seed's home planet, the Moon turned his attention to the Earth, remembering where the Seed originated from, where it belonged. He then looked back to the area around himself, noting the contrast between the bustling Earth and the desolate space he occupied.

Amongst the Stars was not a place the Seed could survive….but he could try. He knew that he couldn’t leave it alone. He couldn’t leave it there to die. So, with careful hands, he slipped the Seed into his pocket for safe keeping.

That night, while the Moon was fast asleep, he dreamt that he was back on the Earth’s surface. He was somehow older and walked along the shores of her beach; surrounded by the colors blue and green, he could feel the wind brushing against his skin and the coolness of the water on his feet. He dreamt of a small figure running around the sand in flashes of greens and blues and grays. 

The dreams persisted for many nights, always showing the same images that felt weirdly nostalgic for the Moon. They made him wake up feeling homesick for a place he couldn’t remember. He held the Seed in his hand and stared until he surrendered back to the grasps of sleep. 

The dreams continued until the seedling miraculously sprouted into a beautiful baby. Their skin was tinted in the most beautiful shades of browns and greens that matched the Earth's lands, with blues as deep as her tides. Their hair and eyes were as dark as night and had freckles dancing across their skin like the stars. 

The Moon took in this child without hesitation, caring for them like his own. He provided everything he could. With time, he watched the Seed grow into a Sprout—a toddler—so full of life, despite the initial lack of resources. He watched the child befriend every Star and create a brilliant light that followed behind them as they explored the sky. 

However, with time, the child failed to continue in their growth. The Moon noticed that the leaves that sprouted from their skin began to shrivel, and the colors on their skin began to dull ever-so-slightly. Their colors now cloudy amidst an arising storm. 

As the days passed, the baby’s condition worsened. The child spent their days crying out in pain at the slightest movement, flash, or sound. The Moon looked toward the Earth in fear. In urgency. In acceptance. He knew that he needed assistance in raising his child. He knew that he needed to seek help for their safety. He couldn’t do this alone, quickly deciding to return the child to where they belonged. 

With that, the Moon decided to build a ship to safely return them both to Earth.

When the ship was ready, the Moon packed his few belongings to ready himself for their trip. On the descent, the Moon struggled to control the spacecraft against gravity. Its force was far stronger than he remembered, and was not accustomed to its intensity. The pair soon crash-landed into the vast blues of the planet, which caused the Moon to panic, holding onto the sprout tightly to protect them. 

Once the world around them settled, the Astronaut opened the door. The Moon held tightly onto the child until they both rested safely on the roof of the damaged ship. Once steady, he double-checked to make sure the child was okay. The Moon watched how the baby curiously surveyed their surroundings in excitement, seemingly unfazed by the rough landing. 

It was then the Moon’s turn to scan the vast blue surrounding them in every direction—taking in the smells of the saltwater and the coolness of the ocean breeze against his warm skin. The trees in the surrounding area were ripped apart and hunched over. Most likely from a recent storm—or from the crash landing itself.

The dry land was small in the distance…and questioned how they could get to shore. He wondered and wondered until he felt a tight pull in his gut. 

He felt it in his chest. 

His heart. 

The Moon could recognize this pull even if all of his senses ceased to exist. Even if his eyes could no longer paint the ripples in the sea or if his ears could no longer hear the waves splashing around them. He knew the weight, the pressure, the feeling of his Tide against him. 

The spaceship and its passengers suddenly jerked in the direction of the shore. The pull of the water soon bringing the pair close enough to see the leaves on the trees and the birds perched all along the shoreline. 

The Astronaut’s eyes soon shifted to the figure that stood nearby and observed as the distance between them grew smaller and smaller. The Tide, knee-deep in the ocean water, watched the spacecraft in wonder, soon shifting his blue eyes to watch the pair in the water. He watched as if they were something precious—as if they were something worth giving attention to. 

—

The Tide felt an unusual crash into his waters. 

It was bigger. 

Heavier. 

More metallic than the usual meteors that jumped in. On top of it all, it felt familiar. The weight, the gravity, the feeling…

The Tide, curious by the new life forms that entered his space, watched as two figures flailed and were pushed by his current. He watched the pair haul themselves on top of the metal machine; enjoying the way they looked upon his waters. The Tide watched the curiosity and wonder radiate from the pair; it tugged at his heart stronger than any current had ever tugged. 

He found their admiration endearing and comforting—and instantly made him drawn to them…he knew that he would help them to shore. With that, he guided them along with his current; quickly securing themselves tightly to the damaged piece of metal. 

The Tide pushed and pulled until the metal machine hit the sand with a heavy ‘thump’ and knocked the lifeforms into his shallow waters. The Tide kindly offered the stranger and his child a friendly smile and a helping hand as they struggled to find their footing in the uneven sand. 

The stranger took it. 

Confident. 

Sure. 

Strong. 

With the contact, the Tide felt a wave of familiarity. A wave of warmth and affection. Admiration. For, this was no stranger—it was his rock. His Moon, with hair and eyes as black as the night. The Tide was so happy to finally meet the one who resided in the sky and helped the people of Earth.

—

“This child belongs to Earth,” said the Moon, reluctantly holding the small figure for the Tide to take. Confused, the Tide embraced the child in his own arms. He hoped that the Tide couldn’t feel his hands shaking in fear. Despite this, he continued to explain because he didn’t know what else to do to help the child.

“This Seedling was going to die if I didn’t bring them here,” he stated, “and…I need your help.” The words came out clumsy and uncomfortable like they belonged to a foreign language.

The Tide agreed to help, releasing the Sprout to run around the sand stretched in front of them. 

“Thank you. I will also need a ship to return home.”

“A ship? We have plenty here on Earth,” said the Tide.

“A ship for the sky, not the sea,” clarified the Moon. He walked over and attempted to dislodge the metal ship from where it rested in the sand. The Tide looked puzzled as if he had never heard of a spaceship before. 

“I will help with whatever you may need. After all, you have helped this planet in ways unimaginable,” said the Tide, the Sprout now resting comfortably in the sand. He then used his current to dislodge the metal machine from the sand’s grasp. 

“Thank you,” said the Moon. 

He began building his second ship to carry himself safely back to space. During the day, he would build. The Tide and Sprout would run around the sand to find small sticks and rocks he could use. The blue also offered the support and strength of the ocean to lift and push the machine when it became too heavy. 

During the sleepless nights, the Moon would wander to the shore and sit beside the Tide. They found themselves curious about one another, revealing information about themselves, like how they both originated from the Earth. 

How they both walked along the planet as humans before succumbing to their fate. The Tide and the Moon shared their stories—how they both died in their element trying to find their family. 

These conversations that started during these sleepless nights soon bled into the daytime and late into their evenings. The trio would spend every second together, pulled together by an invisible thread of fate. A needle and thread so gentle, familiar, and kind—weaving them together into a beautiful pattern of greens and blues and grays and blacks, with stars filling any gaps in the stitching.

During these nights, the Moon would look to the Stars for hope. He would hold his child close to his chest and dream of the darkness of space. Dreams showing how the Stars were currently out of reach but not untouchable. He knew that he would return but would also grow sorrowful at the prospect of never seeing his Sprout again after his departure. He knew it had to be a solo mission back home, but he also wanted to see them grow up. He wanted to ensure that they would be okay on Earth before leaving. 

"Just stay until they grow old enough,” suggested the Tide, carding his fingers delicately through the sand, “stay until they can decide where they fit best.” The Moon agreed, believing it was the best thing he could do for the child. 

So years and years passed like this on Earth. The three of them living on her surface. They worked and survived through each season, growing closer to the Earth, the Tide, the seasons, and the life around them. And in those years, the Seed became more and more curious. They wandered more, exploring their surroundings without fear and learning everything the planet had to offer.  

The Sprout met each season with a curiosity unknown to both the Tide and Moon. The child absorbed everything the terrain offered and was a friend to every plant, animal, and human. They learned everything imaginable due to their friends. The flowers taught them to be gentle and accept whichever way the wind blew. The animals taught them how to hunt, and the humans taught them how to love. New resources, new people, and new experiences helped shape the Sprout into someone so knowledgable, gentle, sturdy, and kind. No matter how big and bright they grew, they never lost their curiosity. 

The Sprout now walked on two solid feet, blooming into a beautiful plant. They took on different forms to fit into their surroundings with ease—delicate like a flower with their emotions but strong as a tree trunk when it came to standing up for those who couldn’t. They grew all types of leaves from all parts of the Earth. It was fitting because of how familiar the Sprout was with the Earth and her elements. They were knowledgeable about her terrains and her seas, as well as the sky, space, Stars, and constellations. 

The Moon watched them grow until he inevitably had to return to the Stars. Once he returned to his place in space, he sat and watched the Earth as the Tide continued to bring people home. The Moon could feel wherever he was. No matter how far, he knew what his force felt like. 

And no matter how far, the Moon watched as the Sprout ran around and glowed in the moonlight, with constellations freckled across their skin and guiding those around them back home. The Moon watched as the Sprout grew into a beautiful and sturdy force. So resilient with the knowledge of the Stars, the Seas, and the Lands. They were able to navigate and educate the people of the Earth, growing older and becoming a teacher. A sailor. An astronomer. Something so grand in comparison to the tiny Seed they once inhabited. None of this possible without the kindness and willingness of another to help. 

—

The spring morning brought a chill to those who ventured outdoors. The sun slowly defrosted the leftover cold that persisted in the air, and by midday, the sun shined perfectly across the whole terrain with just enough warmth to kiss their skin but not too hot to burn. And, of course, the wind always acted as a buffer, coming in spurts to cool them off when the rays clung too tight.

What Keith liked most about the season was how welcoming it was for people to be outside. It was friendly to those who desired to walk and kind to the children who wanted to explore. It also helped that there was a beautiful green park within walking distance from their house, where other parents walked around while their kids ran in the grass and played on the playground. 

There was a lot of foot traffic on their way over—teenagers walking in groups to sit in the grass while other teens played a pickup game of basketball on the courts. There were also sounds of tennis balls being struck clumsily by tennis rackets held in unsure hands, their parents cheering their efforts on, even when the small child looked embarrassed. It was nice to walk through the sounds of people playing and laughing and creating memories. 

With that, Keith turned toward the two figures walking with him, noticing the excitement that buzzed with every step on the smooth pavement toward the grass field. Nova walked a few steps ahead of them with his little green frog backpack bobbing up and down. His arms securely hugged the entire circumference of a soccer ball and water bottle, causing him to waddle a bit to try and keep both items from slipping out of his grasp. He looked unstable, but if he fell, at least he wasn’t super far from the ground.

They continued on the pathway to their favorite area to set up camp a little ways away from a small bridge that Nova liked to cross all by himself. He was scared the first time they ventured over it but had grown rather fond of it with time. 

They crossed the bridge and stopped next to a big tree that Nova liked for no particular reason. He would just stop at the same place every time and crouch down to inspect the ground…That day, he found a roly-poly and picked it up in excitement, which caused the bug to turn itself into a tight, secure ball to hide from the potential threat. It rolled around on his palm.

“That’s a Pill Bug. They are decomposers. They eat dead plants,’’ informed Keith. 

“I like roly-poly more,” said Nova, about his preferred name for his newfound friend in his hand. The little bug didn’t dare open up from its ball form. 

“Maybe we should put him down so he can go back with his family,” suggested Lance.

“Do they miss him?”

“…well, I would miss you if a giant plucked you from the sky.”

“Okay.” He sounded a little sad but understood. He carefully placed the ball on the grass and waited until it spread itself open and walked away. Nova bid it goodbye before walking away, himself.

Once they made it to their usual spot, they laid out their blanket and dropped all of their items onto it. They made sure that the waters and juices were shaded from the heat before they abandoned their spot to run around. They kicked the ball and played tag. They reapplied sunscreen because Nova’s floppy hat kept flying off of his head while he ran away.

With Keith’s assistance, Nova climbed one of the many crooked trees that shaded the area before taking a break to drink some water. Lance never failed to remind them to hydrate. While they sat in the shade, Nova talked about everything that just happened with excitement. He told Keith about how fast he was running, how there were more buggies in the grass, and how much he liked to kick the ball. All in one breath, too. 

The father just laughed to himself, because if there was something to say about his kid, it was that he talked. He had always been chatty, but it was very apparent whenever he got excited and Keith found it very endearing. 

Nova’s extroversion also never went away. He was a very sociable and socialized kid. He loved meeting new people and found it easy to make friends wherever he went. For example, when they finally made it to the playground, with its huge slide and monkey bars, he ran straight up to another child that was sitting on the grass and asked her to play. 

The two children soon played with the ball together until they found a greater interest in the slide, which gave both Keith and Lance time to properly rest. They were very much tired from chasing the energetic kid around. 

They sat in the grass a little ways away to give Nova some space; observing the pair and relishing in the sounds of the swings squeaking and children laughing. 

“Is the little guy yours?” asked a younger woman, motioning toward the two children playing. She wore the same eyes and hair as the little girl running around. 

“Yeah, he’s ours,” he replied, watching Nova swing their hands together as they climbed the steps carefully.

“I’m Sophie”

“Keith.”

“Lance.” 

More comfortable silence as they watched their children. 

“I’m surprised she decided to play….she’s pretty shy without her sister.”

Keith didn’t really know how to respond. 

“Bea—my little girl…her and her sister are almost 5.”

“Nova turns 5 next month.”

“It’s a good age.”

Keith agreed. So did Lance, who saved him from painfully continuing the conversation by himself. He asked about the schools in the area and was happy to learn that all of the elementary schools were known to be very good and have kind teachers. Nova would be entering kindergarten this upcoming year, so they were nervous. 

They talked more about enrollment and whatnot (senseless parent talk, in Keith’s opinion), until maybe 5 minutes later when an older woman walked over with an identical child to the one that Nova was playing with. Matching outfit and everything. The only difference was their hair. The sister who joined had her hair sticking wildly out of her ponytail as if the elastic holding it all up was struggling with each passing second. She quickly joined her sister, which led to a very confused Nova; his expression asking ‘since when have there been two of them?’. 

The older woman assumed to be the grandmother, walked over to where the mother stood—her eyes widening at the mere sight of them. Her eyes flicked between both Lance and Keith; making the latter uneasy because of the familiarity of her gaze. 

“Mr. McClain. Mr. Kogane.” That made his eyes grow ten times—forcing him to once again look over her face and realize who the voice belonged to. Upon his second observation, he recognized her immediately. She looked almost the same as she did when they first met. 

“Oh my gosh—” said Lance incredulously, “it’s so good to see you, Professor—”

“—Julie. Just Julie is fine.”

It was their Biology professor from their first year. 

“R-right. How are you? It’s been, what…almost 20 years?”

The daughter blinked once. 

Twice.

“Wait, mom. You know them?” She finally asked after finally registering their quick interaction. 

“They were my students once upon a time. Very good students, might I add.” She said this with a smile. Keith smiled too, feeling like he was in on some kind of inside joke.

“I can’t believe you remember us,” said Keith because…it was insane. She had probably taught tens of thousands of students, yet she remembered them.

“What can I say…you guys were an intriguing pair.” He laughed at that, noticing the way her eyes softened, “But it’s definitely a surprise to see you both. Here of all places…”

Just then, both Keith and Lance were summoned by a loud ‘daaaad, paapaa, watch this!’ from the playground. Nova called out before sliding down the slide with his eyes closed; his lopsided smile emerging with giggles in tow. The two girls then called for their mom and followed suit immediately after. 

“Ahh,” she said as if everything clicked into place. 

“We, uh, live in the neighborhood,” said Keith, pointing vaguely in the direction of where they lived. 

“Small world,” she remarked. She turned to watch the children play. 

Yeah, no kidding. 

They watched the children play, asking a question about each other every couple of minutes. Simply about how long they have been in the neighborhood, whether or not she still taught, or the weather. Small talk as the children climbed around the jungle gym like madmen, laughing and dancing whenever they got excited about something. In all honesty, it was nice.

After some time, the twins and Nova ran over to get a snack and drink water, which Nova told the girls was very important. That was definitely Lance’s doing. Keith handed them fruit snacks and mini waters after getting the okay from their mom. 

They snacked in the grass and looked for roly-polies, to which Nova informed them that its real name was a ‘Pull Bug”. 

“Pill Bug,” corrected Keith with a smile. 

“but I like roly-poly.” His friends shook their heads in agreement. 

Once it got a little late, the mother called it a day. Nova was sad that his friends to leave, and so were the girls. However, Keith made sure to exchange phone numbers so they could play another day. 

“Well, it was so nice to meet you,” said to the mother.

Keith nodded.

“And it was very good to see you again,” said Lance to their old professor.

“Same to you, boys. I’m glad you guys were able to stay close.” She smiled at the little boy standing in-between the pair and swinging his arms. 

“Us, too.”

“—and if anything, I’ll probably see you more in the future,” she said, gesturing toward the newfound friends that giggled next to them. 

They walked away after that with everything in tow. Nova sat as tall as the trees atop Lance’s shoulders, happily pointing out the different shapes of the leaves. He gave his friends another wave goodbye. The sisters held each other’s hands as they walked away, smiling and waving back. 

“Oh—and one more thing,” said the Professor, turning her attention back to them, “I have a question for the both of you...if you don’t mind answering.”

Keith felt his shoulders tense for a millisecond; however, he nodded his head for her to ask anyway. 

“Well… after all of these years…did you need to know Bio 120 for your future careers?”

Keith felt the laugh bubble in his chest. He shook his head ‘no.’ 

“And your careers… what would they would be?” 

“I’m a pilot.”

“—an astronaut,” clarified Lance. Keith felt the embarrassment creep onto his face. 

“I see… I guess you were right. And Lance?”

He straightened his posture, Keith noticing the pride in his words as he told her. 

“A pediatrician.”

She smiled, pleased with his response, “I am so glad to hear that.”

It was close to 2 pm when they returned to the comfort of their home. It wasn’t too big, just a typical suburban house. One story with the right amount of rooms and a big backyard littered with all things Nova. Some weeds needed to be plucked, but that was for another day…Keith didn’t understand why weeds grew so fast compared to the flowers he and Lance planted. 

Once they entered the living room, they were soon met with Pidge sitting on their couch with a laptop resting on her lap. Upon hearing them, she hoisted herself up and went to meet the child speeding toward her.

“Auntie!” 

“There’s my favorite little guy!” Pidge said while teetering him around in her embrace. His giggles were loud against all the movement. 

“Tell me why we gave you a key, again?” asked Keith, unfazed by the person (who didn’t live there) being in their house. He set the blanket and backpack onto the floor. He would wash everything later. 

“Because you love me, that’s why,” replied Katie. 

Keith watched Nova tap on his aunt’s leg for her attention.

“You gave Auntie the key because she likes to play. Remember, dad? You gave Auntie the key and she has a alien next to the key,” supplied Nova, referring to her keychain with a green alien on it.

“Yes, I remember. Thank you, Nova,” said Keith sincerely. He saw Lance give him a thumbs up in his peripheral. Nova nodded his head in good deed and threw back a thumbs up, excited that he could help remind his dad. 

“I’m surprised you’re up this early,” teased Lance, walking over and sitting himself down on the couch. Keith watched him survey the area—he was probably thinking about buying more decorative pillows again like he did every other day. 

“Even this is too late for me to be in bed,” she said, rolling her eyes in a very little-sister manner, “and I’m here to pick up the telescope lens Keith promised he would drop off, but never did.” All eyes turned to him. 

Oops. 

He definitely forgot about that. 

“Want anything to drink?” asked Keith on his way to the fridge. He hoped this would distract her.

“Nah, I’m good, thanks.” 

Nova gasped, “You have to drink! I’m going to make you a smoothie!” He ran to his room, excited to make something for her.

Keith gave a look that said ‘you heard the kid’.

“…I guess I’m getting a smoothie?”

“Yeah, Lance makes protein shakes before work. The kid felt left out, so we’ve been making smoothies,” explained Keith on his way out of the living room. He went to their room and changed his shirt. As he reentered the living room (feeling better now that his shirt wasn’t sticking to him anymore), he listened to the easy conversation happening in the room.

“Wait, what time does it start again?” asked Lance.

“Midnight,” said Keith, now leaning against the kitchen island and aimlessly scrolling through the tablet with their mail. 

So much spam.

“Everyone able to make it?”

“Yeah. Allura may be a little late, but she’ll be there,” replied Pidge, adjusting her position on the couch. 

Lance yawned, “Sweet! We haven’t been together as a group in a while.”

“Yeah, it’s going to be great to see everyone.”

“I think it’s going to be fun to see Nova try and stay awake…you know how he gets when everyone’s together…”

Pidge was right. It was always fun to watch Nova force himself awake when everyone was together in fear of missing out. FOMO to the max for this kid.

“Awe, yeah—and when he starts to do the eye-thing where he like, nods off and then shoots back awake…pretending like he didn’t almost KO,” cooed Lance. 

“Yeah, and he walks all funny—” continued Pidge. 

“Our little drunkard.”

Keith laughed at that. The kid was notorious for walking around like a drunk man when extremely tired. Without fail, he would walk around like he was on a boat until he found either parent to snuggle. He never got grumpy…he just got very cuddly, as if he had never received cuddles ever in his life…which couldn’t have been further from reality. 

Nova bounded over with an armful of items from his room and set them all down on the coffee table in front of her. 

“For Auntie,” clarified Nova. He handed her an empty mug filled with her smoothie and a small plate with a bunch of plastic food. He dropped a mushroom and slice of pizza in the process. 

“Thank you so much!” 

She took a sip before giving her review, “wow! This is delicious!” 

He smiled before running back to his room, seemingly forgetting another item he wanted to give her. She took another sip. 

“If I’m being honest, the smoothie is a little bland. Not enough strawberries, in my opinion…” 

“You better keep that to yourself,” threatened Lance. 

“…the kid used to call me PeePee. I think I’m allowed to say whatever the fuck I want.”

“Hey!’ said Lance frantically, “watch your language! He can repeat words, y’know!” He looked around to ensure the child wasn’t in earshot of the bad word. Pidge shrugged her shoulders—her eyes soon going wide in excitement when Nova brought out his coloring book and box of colored pencils. 

Keith walked over and finally took a seat on the rug, leaning against the couch and relaxing his aching muscles. He hated to admit it, but he wasn’t as youthful as he previously had thought—and he was a bit more tired than he let on. He thought about taking a nap, maybe getting some coffee. Or both. 

His mind quickly drowned out the chatter between Aunt and Nephew as they busied themselves coloring and talking about the park. Nova even talked about tonight and how they were going to see meters (meteors) fall in the sky…which, yes. Keith was also very excited about it. 

He felt Lance lean forward and run his fingers through his hair, muddling his already jumbled and sleepy brain. He said something, but he missed it.

“Hm?” It came out more of a hum than anything. He leaned into the welcomed touch.

“Will you be able to stay awake tonight? You seem half asleep.” He found himself laughing at how easily the other read him. 

“M’just a little tired.”

“Go nap.”

“I don’t think I can.” Which was the truth. Like a kid before Christmas, Keith struggled to fall asleep the night prior due to excitement. It was embarrassing to admit but he knew that no one would judge him for it. 

“Too excited?”

They smiled at each other. 

Pidge left shortly after to finish up some errands before joining Adam and Shiro. She, along with Hunk and Shay, went to set up early to ensure they had the best spot for the meteor shower that night. Keith and Lance had the ‘child pass’, so they didn’t have to arrive until later. They definitely were not complaining…

With that, the three boys lounged around their house until Nova became sleepy, which prompted for them all to lay down. Although excited, the warmth of the blankets and cuddle pile relaxed him enough to be pulled into a quick nap—all waking up feeling well rested and ready to go. 

They packed for the night and left, stopping to get coffee on their way to the campsite. Lance drove as Keith sat in the passenger seat, windows rolled down to let the cool spring evening hitch a ride and gently run through their hair. Keith watched the lights of the suburbs slowly dissipate the farther they ventured away from the city. 

He closed his eyes and let the cool air run across his face and hair, making him feel more awake than he had all day. More alive—because never in a million years would he have pictured his life like this. Having his dream job, with a beautiful child sitting in the back with a big smile on his face. Happy to be in the car with them, insisting on wearing his favorite ‘space outfit’ that he picked all by himself—a shirt with a cartoon spaceship…an outfit that matched both of his dads’ spaceship shirts.

Never in a million years would he have pictured a life with such perfect people around him. Having people that were excited when he was excited, sad when he was sad, and supportive when he asked for help. People that would stargaze because he liked to look at the meteors.

Never in a million years would he have pictured his life like this because he never even thought it was an option…and now it was a reality for him because he reached out. Put down roots. 

Granted, there were still moments when Keith felt like running. That never went away. There were still times when life hit him with explosions he couldn’t navigate through. There were still times when he felt like he took up too much space, had too many possessions, or had too many things tying him down. There were still times when he felt scared by the weight that kept him secured to the Earth and begged for him to run and never look back…

That was something that stuck with him, never going away completely. Time was the only natural way the fear would diminish. It lessened as he put more and more trust in other people—and he was lucky that everyone he loved was willing to wait. They were gentle and patient with his rate of progress. 

And even though there were times when he would revert to his old ways of thinking, there was now an ever-present tug that reminded him that someone was there. He knew his family would always be there for him when he returned. Keith knew he could lean, even crash and fall, onto them when he needed them most. He was confident that they would never even think of abandoning him.

He was reminded whenever Katie showed up unannounced to check on her favorite boys (don’t tell Matt or Shiro or Hunk). Or when Shiro and Adam would host and cook dinner for the 6, 7, 8, and 9 of them; all of them staying into the dead of night after losing track of time. They always seemed to do that—always getting too wrapped up in each other’s company to notice how fast the night slipped by. 

Keith was reminded whenever he woke up with Nova's little limbs overlapping with his own; the father well aware of his son's successful night mission of escaping his small bed and sleeping beside him. He would lean into the sleepy Nova cuddled up next to him, feeling tied down by the child's tight grip on his pajama shirt. On other mornings, he would be awoken by tiny whispering, letting him know it was time to get up.

"Dad, you gotta get up! The birdies are up," he would say in excitement before sliding off the tall bed and onto his two steady feet. 

"I'm comin', Noves," Keith would say as he dragged his tired frame out of the dark bedroom and into the bright kitchen. He would follow not too far behind, his bedhead most likely matching the excited child's. He would then allow the hearty yawn to pass before greeting the kind blue eyes and gentle arms that welcomed them, Lance always making sure to give him morning hugs and kisses to jumpstart his newly awoken brain.

That night, Keith was reminded that he was surrounded by people who loved and cared for him as he walked up to the campsite. He and his family were greeted with crushing hugs and blinding smiles that signaled how happy they were to see them. Signaling how much they missed them—that they were just as excited to see him as he was to see them. 

Their camping grounds for the night were pretty small, sharing the space with a couple of Keith and Shiro’s coworkers. There were fire pits, grills, and trees perfect for hammocks…as well as ice chests and tables that held way too many snacks and goodies for the number of people present. Their friends did an excellent job setting up everything, leaving room in the middle to place their chairs once the shower started.

Keith heard Allura, Shiro, and Adam discussing how to properly set up the telescope to find different planets. They clicked rapidly on the star tablet in Allura’s hands, the two men insisting that you had to point it a certain way while the other disagreed. Keith was pretty sure they were all wrong to some degree. 

In his peripheral, Lance examined the structural integrity of a small block tower. Pidge, Hunk, and Shay were supervising and giving pointers on how to successfully build it higher and higher with each block placed. Nova listened intently, taking mental notes because he really wanted it to be tall. 

Nova placed another block right before it collapsed and hit the asphalt like bowling pins. 

“No!” yelled Nova, dropping his head and sighing. Keith could tell he was getting frustrated, but wanted to keep trying by the way he collected the blocks and began building once again. 

“You want to keep goin’, bud?” asked Hunk. 

“Yes, I want it to go all the way up there!” Nova pointed to the sky, raising himself taller onto his tippy toes and jumping to prove how serious he was. His shoes lit up at the force. 

“You think we can build that in one night?” asked Lance. 

“Yes!” 

“You’re ambitious, kid,” remarked Pidge, mostly to herself, gathering more blocks for him to use. 

“Heck yeah he can!” encouraged Hunk, who sat beside his wife, “but I don’t think we have enough blocks to reach the sky…”

“Well,” said Nova, his face scrunching in thought, “we can build the tower tall like Auntie.” 

“That’s not very tall, Noves,” said Lance, who was quickly smacked by Pidge. 

“No, Auntie Shay,” he reiterated. The group did a chorus of ‘oohs’ of understanding. Shay smiled sheepishly, patting The Shorter Aunt on the shoulder reassuringly. 

Allura walked over to sit beside Nova and help him steadily place the next block on the newly formed tower—soon lifting him to reach once the tower became too high for his small arms. 

“Hey, Noves?” asked Lance after some deep contemplation, “Do you know how far away the moon is?”

He shook his head ‘no’ and looked at the block in his hand. 

"The moon is 238,900 miles away!”

"What’s a miles?” 

“It’s a way to measure how far away something is.”

The kid blinked at the adult. 

“One mile is equivalent to 5,280 feet,” continued Lance. The child then looked down at his light-up shoes covering his feet, stomping to make them glow in the dark. That earned a laugh from Keith (who had to resist the urge to give him a big hug for no other reason than him being so cute). Lance sighed in defeat. He knew that any further explanation would be lost by the kid. 

Although a little discouraged, he continued to recite some other ‘fun facts’ to the group that he researched the night before. He did this until Pidge groaned and restated them with the correct statistics. He was forgetting one too many zeros to be accurate. 

He gave Lance a reassuring smile. He really did appreciate his effort…he knew that astronomy wasn't his strong suit. 

"How much time do we have?"

"About 20 minutes." 

Keith sat up straighter, unable to contain his excitement. He helped Nova sit beside him in the Nova-sized beach chair and handed him some binoculars. The child made sure to inform his dad of how heavy they were, repeatedly saying the word 'binoculars' because he liked it so much. Of course, he pronounced it wrong, like how kids tended to say the word 'spaghetti' wrong, but it didn't stop him from talking about them. 

"Why do we need pinockulars, dad?"

"To see the stars better."

"How are we able to see the stars better?"

"They use a special glass that makes everything closer, like my glasses."

"Oh, but why are they so heavy?"

"Because the materials they're made out of are heavy."

"Oh, okay," he said, fiddling with the strap hanging on his neck, turning his attention back to the sky and waiting patiently. 

Keith didn’t even have to look to know when the meteor shower began. He could see it all around, in the reflections of their skin, in their eyes, their expressions. He could tell whenever a bright streak ran across the sky by the excitement of Nova gasping and telling him to look up. 

And the thing was—he knew how beautiful the meteors were. He knew, yet he couldn't tear his eyes away from the little firecracker of a human at his right. He couldn't look away from the beautiful sight. 

The childlike excitement. 

How he buzzed beside him and toyed with his pair of binoculars, blinking through tired eyes.

His eyes flickered to the others that surrounded him. His partner and his family. He looked around at his place amongst the most beautiful flora ever growing. And amongst them, he felt grounded—no longer self-conscious of his barely sprouted leaves and roots still familiarizing themselves in the deepest parts of the Earth. Keith no longer dwelled on how many times he was uprooted—how many times he was ripped at his very core—because he now grew stronger with each passing day. Even when he thought his roots were too damaged, they never died completely. Instead, they were resilient, just as he was. 

He just needed the proper nutrients. Proper care. 

He needed to be replanted somewhere safe, where the rain no longer flooded his soil. Somewhere he no longer felt suffocated by Earth's gravity. A place with other plants, a community, that allowed him to grow into everything he was destined to be. 

He couldn't look away from his child, partner, and family huddled together in the dead of night to watch the sky. To watch the stars. Even though the darkness of the moonless sky slowly crept until it enveloped everything around them, it couldn't shadow the beautiful plants rooted next to him on the Earth. It couldn't dim the way the Stars illuminated them for all to see. 

After some time, he finally turned to watch the meteor shower. It was as beautiful as he had imagined; the meteors passing through the night as streaks. Shooting stars. They would zip past as sparks, like neurons firing to every part of the cosmos. Only close enough to be seen as a quick flash before traveling far, far away.

As he looked into the depths of the night sky, he still felt the tug in his heart that pulled him toward its vastness—toward the darkness the night had to offer. It was so familiar and warm. So inviting, yet Keith no longer had any desire to leave. 

To Keith, the sky and her stars no longer compared to the child that grew bright and beautiful on the Earth—for that supernova would always be the greatest unknown Keith had ever explored.