Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Keith had never been one to care much for the whole soulmate ordeal.

Yeah, he might’ve made a habit of drawing on his arm and talking to his soulmate while he was bored to death, but it wasn’t as if he anxiously waited for a reply each time he answered a question or drew something he was particularly proud of. Keith would say he was an average soulmate enjoyer; excited, but not ‘casually asking for their address and social security number’ type of excited.

Okay, so maybe average was a bit of an over-exaggeration. Keith would rather run through the streets naked than get caught letting fate decide his life for him. He knew better than to get overly invested. Most people never even meet their soulmate, and the chance of them living close enough to not spend their whole life savings just to meet was low. Besides, many fated relationships didn’t work out, which Keith had experienced first-hand when his mother had left.

And so, the interactions between Keith and his soulmate remained minimal, courtesy of Keith usually ignoring the blue marker he’d glance on his skin every other day.

Keith reminded himself almost all the time that he should just start painting and drawing on paper like a sane person. It came with a bunch of benefits, such as getting to keep his artwork, and that he wouldn’t feel like a horrible person each time the paint got washed down the drain in the shower. It would also mean that the whole soulmate situation would become an even smaller part of his life.

Paper and canvases were all around the smartest choices, and Keith knew that, yet he found himself clicking on the Twitch tab on his browser and scrolling aimlessly for a stream he could have on in the background as he once again fished for compliments from his soulmate.

Keith liked disappearing into his own world when he painted, but he’d made a nasty habit of needing white noise to accomplish that state of mind. Before, he’d gone to YouTube and found ten-hour videos of lo-fi music or city sounds, but his whole routine had changed when he’d discovered Twitch. No ads, and an overall better space for creators than YouTube. It felt natural and human and perfect, and Keith adored the smaller artists he’d stumbled across on the platform. With that in mind, his eyes searched his recommended streams for a guitar or other instruments he found pleasant.

A pair of tan hands that were racing across the strings on an acoustic guitar piqued his interest, and Keith half-listened as he set up his equipment.

He’d had an idea stuck in his head ever since he’d woken up that morning, and his brain saw opportunities before he could have a clear thought. When he settled back into his chair, his desk was filled with various shades of blue, red, and purple. In his head, he saw two people – one blue, the other red – slowly melting together into a messy purple as they tried to get as close to each other as possible without losing their own colour. He couldn’t decide whether it was supposed to be a sad or happy piece, but he’d let his soulmate be the judge of that.

Right as Keith was about to start sketching his idea onto his forearm, a string on the guitar the streamer was playing snapped. A chorus of curses in both Spanish and English reminded Keith that he was indeed watching a real person during real time, and his curiosity overpowered his urge to paint.

“BluePaladin,” Keith muttered to himself. His subscriber count was close to hitting two million, and Keith’s interest hit max. As he scrolled through previous livestreams and clips, he couldn’t help but take note of how… nice BluePaladin’s hands were, and oh, yeah, he totally got why almost two million people followed him. Video after video contained more instruments than Keith had ever seen together in a room before, and he had to know how old this dude was.

Keith searched him up, and he felt sort of disgusted with himself for caring so much. So, he closed the tab – but not before taking note of the link to a YouTube channel – and went back to Twitch, where he started scrolling again.

The deeper Keith ventured, the more his mind convinced him he should subscribe. Their music tastes were weirdly similar, and only the interspersed Big Time Rush covers threw him off. Besides, BluePaladin was way too talented for Keith to move on from and never return to.

He went back to the top and was second away from clicking back on the livestream when his eyes caught sight of a cover of one of his favourite songs. He’d used the lyrics in his previous artwork, and the cover had been livestreamed the exact same day he’d finished it. Just a crazy coincidence, Keith convinced himself.

Keith shook his head, went back to the livestream where BluePaladin was busy changing the guitar string, and started his sketch. The pencil wasn’t very visible on his arm, but it was strong enough to give him a rough idea of where each colour would go. He just hoped his soulmate wouldn’t notice, because Keith was not in the mood to explain or answer anything.

Half an hour later, and Keith was ready to start painting. Before the brush hit the palate, he glanced up at the streamer, who was in the middle of testing his new string. He began right where he’d ended, with a requested song.

Cold paint hit his skin, and the sensation brought forth the state of mind he’d been longing for since he’d gotten home from work. Now his world only consisted of red, orange and the occasional pink. He worked his way from the chest to the face, which was the point his first purple shade came into play. Brushstroke after brushstroke, his idea was coming to life right there on his skin. And, somewhere in the world, it was coming alive on his soulmate’s skin as well.

The thought pulled Keith out of his own bubble, and he looked up at his laptop for the first time in – what? Almost one hour? Almost one hour, and he hadn’t even gotten to the blue person yet. Keith shrugged to himself and picked up a new brush, but never got to the paint before he dropped it on the floor.

BluePaladin was in the middle of a song, and Keith couldn’t breathe.

Right there, on his arm, was a blob of red and purple. Keith’s red and purple.

“No way, no fucking way,” Keith breathed to himself and looked over to the chat, where a stream of excitement was pouring in.

Closeup! Closeup! Closeup!

Lance’s soulmate never disappoints

I’m so happy I got to see the infamous soulmate in action

This person’s obsessed with red, gimme some spice!

I wish I had an autistic soulmate

FUCK IMEANT ARITSTIC

Keith’s eyes wandered back to the tan arm and the cursed unfinished art that adorned it. He took a deep breath and picked up the brush again, then watched with shaking hands and the beginning of a headache as the line he painted slowly copied itself onto BluePaladin’s – Lance’s – arm.

This was bad. This was a new level of bad, and no doubt the most fucked up coincidence Keith had ever come across. Even worse than that time his brother Shiro had bumped into his soulmate while on a date with someone else. Okay, so maybe Keith’s situation wasn’t the worst thing that could’ve happened, but holy fuck, only Keith knew. He was watching his soulmate perform a Big Time Rush cover, and Keith was the only one who knew.

Keith had been discussing with himself what he was going to do during all the hours it took to complete his piece, and the irrational part of his brain made him want to hint he was watching the stream. Another wanted him to add some sort of lyric underneath the painting, just to see if Lance – it felt weird to even think about his soulmate’s name – would play it. Another wanted to chuck his laptop out the window and never speak of this again, but that was an impulse Keith couldn’t afford to act on. Instead, he settled on quoting the next song Lance had in his queue: BLUE by Troye Sivan. The irony.

Keith watched with a racing heart as his words appeared on Lance’s skin, and it took everything in him to stop his bouncing leg and not punch a hole through the screen. And then the most horribly wonderful thing happened; Lance started singing. It was soft but raspy and so soothing, and Keith felt his face heat up along with his increased heartrate. He was going to die, and Lance would never even know he existed.

Yo, what the fuck, he’s just some dude, Keith reminded himself. Being soulmates didn’t mean shit, it was just a word. Just a romanticised idea that more often than not ended with heartbreak and bullshit.

Keith didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed BluePaladin hadn’t noticed the lyrics he’d written yet. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle whatever reaction it would incite either, because he could barely stop himself from having an anxiety attack from the chat. Apparently, people were better at reading upside down than Keith had accounted for.

Is that song lyrics I spy?

Hold on a fucking minute, is paladin’s soulmate watching rn?

This is so cute, I can’t

For those that don’t know, it says “I’ll color me blue”

I want a love story like this

Keith glared at the screen with growing regret. He shouldn’t have written anything. He should’ve just ignored the fact that he’d found his soulmate and moved on. Keith didn’t have the time or money to go soulmate hunting, and the blue words he’d read thus far had made it blatantly clear his soulmate – Lance – was interested in meeting. It didn’t matter how little Keith answered, Lance was always there with a question. ‘What’s your name?’ ‘Do you live in the US? Cause I do.’ ‘How old are you?’ ‘Could I at least get a gender? Or a reply. I’d be more than happy with a fuck off or something. Anything?’

The questions usually poured in around the time Keith finished drawing on his arm, which gave Keith one hint as to what type of person Lance might be: a calculated bastard. He knew Keith would be paying attention, that he would probably be searching for some sort of affirmation and interest. Keith might be indifferent about the whole soulmate situation, but damn it, he was lonely. Especially after Shiro had found Adam, and Pidge had entered their final year of college and become too busy studying and working to talk to him constantly. Maybe it was time to utilise the opportunities he had…

The music stopped, and Keith watched with tense anticipation as BluePaladin lifted his arm to look at Keith’s finished artwork, and yeah, Keith was not ready for this.

Before any reaction could be picked up by the chat or camera, Keith slammed his laptop shut. He ran over to his closet, where he pulled on the first sweater he could find so he wouldn’t have to see his soulmate’s reply. Out of the corner of his eye, a blue marker was filling up space on his wrist. Keith pinched the sleeve between his fingers and didn’t let go until his eyes couldn’t help but slide shut.

That night, Keith dreamt of tan skin and purple bodies.

Chapter Text

It had been over a week since Keith had made the stupid decision to reveal he was watching BluePaladin’s livestream, and his soulmate had been relentless with his questions since.

Keith’s arm was filled with blue marker. The only free space was where he’d drawn the blue and red people, which he’d washed off long ago. He was pretty sure it had faded from Lance’s arm as well, yet he avoided the spot like the plague. Which resulted in giving Keith another terrible idea – and the space to do it – when he got the notification that BluePaladin had started a livestream.

Lance was playing around on a piano keyboard, which shouldn’t have caught Keith off guard, but it still made his heart speed up. His soulmate could play the guitar and the piano and sing, while Keith could barely hold one tone and play a cord at the same time. It was unfair, which Keith’s cheeks agreed with when they turned a bright red.

The camera was angled so no more than Lance’s hands and wrists were visible, and Keith took a wild guess that it was done deliberately to hide the questions he’d never gotten any answers to. A pang of guilt he’d never felt towards his soulmate before shook his chest, and everything felt too real. Soulmates had always been this mystical thing that didn’t feel possible, and now Keith was in his room watching his own playing piano and singing a sappy song about falling in love.

Keith had to physically brush away the sinking feeling in his stomach. There was no point in feeling guilty because Keith was about to answer some of the questions Lance had been asking for days on end.

He picked up the closest thing that would appear and stay on his skin, then he looked up and down from his screen until his eyes hurt from the movement. When he was done, there was a piano with hands hovering over the keys. It was messy and far from perfect, but it got the message across.

“What the fuck,” came from his laptop, and Keith didn’t have to look up to know what was happening. “Guess that answers some questions.”

Lance adjusted the camera so he could show off Keith’s drawing, and it tugged at a heartstring. What? No, stop that.

“It’s official, chat,” Lance said with a softness Keith hadn’t been expecting. It melted the lump in his throat. “My soulmate watches my streams!”

This feels illegal, idk why

Illegally ADORABLE

Anyone else notice that Lance was the only one who wrote ANYTHING? rip

Another pang of guilt.

Lance repeated the last comment Keith had read. “I like to think my soulmate’s just shy. Takes some of the pain away, you know.”

A chorus of f’s from the chat and encouraging words. Keith felt like a complete asshole. Maybe he should at least give him a name?

“Yes, chat, thank you! Now I can finally guilt them into answering, like…” Brown hair filled the top of the screen as Lance tried to find one of the questions he’d written down on his arm. “Like a name. Or pronouns, that would be great. Thanks in advance, dearest soulmate of mine.”

Keith wanted nothing more than to ignore Lance once again just to fulfil his role of being an awful soulmate, but he figured he’d embarrassed Lance enough with all the previous ignored attempts.

Keith. He wrote down in the first free space he could find. He hoped his red marker would stand out enough for Lance to notice it. He/him

“Twenty-two years, Keith. What the fuck, dude?” The chat exploded. “It took” – a brief pause – “three words!”

I’m shy, remember?

Another thought occurred to him, and he wrote over Lance’s many questions to get his point across. You never told me your name, either.

“I can’t believe –” Lance twisted his arm around until Keith’s reply was visible. “The first kind of personal conversation we’ve ever had, and he’s being an ass!”

Personal? Keith scribbled as fast as he could without making it impossible to read. Are all your viewers bots then?

A screech from the livestream and hundreds of new comments in a matter of seconds. Keith wanted to rip his own hair out. Why had he put himself in this situation?

“Okay, first of all, rude,” Lance said and showed the red markings. “Second, I told you my name, you just ignored it. Because you’re an ass.”

This is going great, Keith thought bitterly. He chewed his bottom lip and tried to think of how to respond – if he should respond.

Was this really his soulmate? Lance, who was currently calling him an ass and complaining he’s taking too long to respond while absentmindedly playing a soft tune? The whole thing felt like a fever dream.

Keith didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything. Words were always frustrating anyways. What Lance needed was a drawing of a middle finger because the guy kinda deserved it, so Keith got to work.

It was rushed and ugly, but it was obvious what it was supposed to be.

“What is it this time?” Lance grumbled. He stopped thumbing the keyboard, and Keith’s heart almost stopped when he laughed. It was… interesting.

Give me song ideas, was the next blue sentence Keith was met with. Enough time had passed for their previous interaction to be erased, which gave Lance more space to be annoying in.

Why? Keith answered, quicker than he’d ever admit in court.

Chat is obsessed with you now, and I need something new for my next stream

I’m at work

It wasn’t a complete lie. Keith was at work, just not… working. But Lance didn’t know that, and he didn’t need to know that.

So? You’re still answering

Fuck.

I don’t have time to think of songs

mhm, sure

Keith sighed and put away the marker he’d made a nasty habit of carrying around with him. He didn’t have the energy to deal with this and costumers.

One if his co-workers opened the door and gestured for him to come back, which meant his much-needed break was officially over. Now he actually didn’t have time to answer Lance, even as he noticed more words being scribbled across his skin.

Keith took his place by the register and forced his face into a smile that wouldn’t scare people away, but also wouldn’t earn him any extra tips.

“Maybe pull down your sleeve?” Keith’s boss suggested, and Keith nodded and was in the middle of fixing his shirt when a group of people around his age came barging in.

His blood immediately picked up speed, and Keith looked around for someone he could switch places with. They all avoided eye contact, and by the time the group had made their way over to the register, Keith still had nowhere else to go.

“Hello, what can I do for you today?” Keith said with his best customer service voice.

A lean, tall guy stepped forward and started listing all the drinks they wanted. His tan skin and brown hair made Keith think of Lance, and he had to pinch himself to stop thinking about him.

Keith’s fingers flew over the register in order to get everything, and he felt his temper rise along with the bill. It was topped off when the guy grinned like an idiot at the end as if he hadn’t just made Keith’s life a living hell, and he wanted to break his nose.

“Is it to-go or are you staying here?” Keith asked after Lean Guy had paid.

“To-go.” Thank God.

“And what name would you like on that order?” Keith asked through gritted teeth.

Lean Guy looked around his group and muttered to himself. Keith had to count to ten and back so he wouldn’t jump across the counter and strangle the dude.

“Hunk. Yeah, you.” An even taller guy came up next to Lean Guy, and Keith couldn’t help but remark how peculiar his style was; a band around his head and a vest that looked way too small for his size. Keith had his fair share of cropped jackets, sure, but this dude was something else. “We’ll use his name.”

Keith punched out the name, told them they could wait by the counter in the corner, then gave his co-workers the bad news. They shared a moment of furious silence, and Keith glared at the group the entire time he spent making his share of the order.

“Hunk,” Keith announced and presented an ungodly amount of drinks. Lean Guy grabbed his sweeter-than-pure-sugar coffee and winked at Keith, who had to shake off the shiver that ran down his spine. What that shiver meant; he had no idea.

Keith spent that entire evening trying to figure out what felt sort of familiar about Lean Guy, and all he got from it was a raging headache.

And so, he surprised himself more than anyone else when he started drawing his poor recollection of Lean Guy on his thigh. The minute he’d finished it, Lance was ready with his blue marker.

Who’s this handsome fella?

idk, was Keith’s informative answer.

It’s just some random dude?

More or less

ooo, this screams mystery. Do you want me to stalk him?

What? no. Keith’s soulmate was more insane than he’d realised. He was just a customer, I don’t even know his name

A customer? Where do you work?

nope

it was worth a shot

Keith wasn’t sure what he should answer, so he went back to his roots: he ignored it. Until he looked down again and noticed a new sentence being spelled out.

so, about those songs

Keith glanced over to their earlier conversation on his arm to doublecheck whether he’d rejected Lance properly or not. To him, it was a clear no, but he guessed other people might not interpret things the same way.

I don’t think I’m the best person to ask

Aww, why not?

Keith could only stare. Now he had to come up with a decent excuse, too? This Lance guy was asking too much of him.

my music taste doesn’t exactly have big time rush vibes

hit me with your best shot

Oh, if only Keith could hit him with an actual shot.

How about – Keith pulled out his Spotify to make sure he got the name right – spit it out by softcult

Almost five minutes later, Lance was back with an answer. Keith guessed that meant he’d listened to the song, and part of him felt strangely anxious to hear – well, read – his reaction.

I expected it be more… emo, tbh     

tf is that supposed to mean?

Lance didn’t start writing anything new, and Keith thought he’d finally done it. He’d managed to scare off his own fucking soulmate, and he felt nothing but hollow as he stared at the explosion of blue and red on his thigh.

Keith threw his marker across the room, then immediately regretted it. He was acting like a teenager in the middle of his emo phase, and he did not need another go at that. Get it together.

Keith had just managed to talk himself into going to bed early when a fresh batch of blue letters showed up on his skin. He got up from bed with more enthusiasm than he’d had in months, only to stop short after he’d retrieved his marker and was ready to answer. Keith had to double then triple check to see if he’d read it correctly, and the only thing he got out of it was certainty that his soulmate was way too fucking dedicated to a guy he’d never met.

Electric guitar and drums, here I cOME! Tune in sometime next week, you’re in for the time of your life

Of course, Lance knew how to play the drums as well, because why the fuck not?!

Keith felt his cheeks heat up from just the thought of how long he spent trying to think up an answer, and even so the result wasn’t anything to brag about.

I’ll kill you if you botch it

Don’t tempt me

Keith laughed, and he had to physically step back to review the situation – which turned out to be quite the feat while still sitting in bed.

Chapter Text

Keith had work that very next afternoon, and he was surprised to find Pidge there as well when he clocked in. Usually, they’d take the evening shifts on the weekends nobody else wanted, but today they were here, and Keith got to share an entire workday with them.

He walked up to them, unsure of whether he was tempted to hug Pidge or annoy them. He settled on ruffling their carefully styled into messy perfection hair, and Pidge got right back at him with a punch to the gut. Yeah, I deserved that.

“How’s my favourite gremlin holding up?”

“Worse now that you’re here.”

Keith laughed it off and slid into his business persona as he sidled up next to the register, where someone he vaguely recognised was waiting. “Hello, what can I do for you today?”

The guy squinted up at the menu, and Keith took the pause to try and remember who he was. The height and the band around his head… A glimpse of a lean body and brown hair almost solidified his suspicions.

“I’ll take one of the sweetest drinks you have, and two cappuccinos, please.”

Yup, it was definitely Lean Guy and… something starting with H.

Keith added the cappuccinos to the order, then skimmed through the menu. One of the sweetest drinks they have, huh? That would have to be the sugar bomb of hot chocolate with marshmallows and too much cream. Keith felt sick just making the thing.

“Is it to-go or are you staying here?”

“We’re staying here.”

“And what name would you like on that order?”

“Hunk.” And holy shit, Keith had been right. That meant the brown hair he’d seen earlier had actually been Lean Guy, and he hadn’t just seen whatever his mind wanted him to.

No, hold on, why would I want to see him? Keith asked himself, and oh god, he was going to have to do some serious reflecting on this one.

As Keith helped Pidge prepare the drinks, his eyes kept wandering to Lean Guy, who was sitting by a window with a well-built woman in a green summer dress. His hands moved each time he seemed especially excited about something, and the woman laughed along and added things here and there. Keith couldn’t understand why, but he’d kill to hear what they were talking about.

To distract himself, Keith turned to Pidge. “Why are you here anyways?”

“Wow,” Pidge laughed. “That was uncalled for.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know,” Pidge hummed and started on another drink. Keith realised he was still working on his first one. “Our main professor called in sick. He’s gonna be out for a couple of weeks, so we have home school. Sort of.”

“You’re gonna be here awhile then?”

“Yup.”

Pidge handed him the last drink and Keith looked down at his one measly hot chocolate. Pidge had basically finished the order singlehandedly.

Pidge studied his face as they leaned back against the counter and nodded to themself. “We need to talk.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m pretty sure you know what talking is,” Pidge deadpanned, and Keith knew in that moment who he would kill to hear the conversation between Lean Guy and Summer Dress Girl.

“Ha ha, very funny,” Keith jeered. Pidge scoffed and pushed him towards the counter in the corner, where Hunk was scrolling on his phone.

One hour later, Lean Guy and his friends were still there.

After almost being caught staring one too many times, Keith had deducted that Hunk and Summer Dress Girl were dating. Lean Guy, on the other hand, seemed entranced by his computer, only spinning it around to show his friends something once in a while.

By the time Keith’s shift was coming close to halfway, Pidge had clocked out and forced Keith to promise to meet them at a pizza shop down the street the next day, and Lean Guy’s friends had left. Now he was left at the table they’d occupied for over three hours with earbuds in, tapping along to whatever he was listening to. Occasionally, he would hit the spacebar and use his mouse to edit something – or so Keith presumed – then went right back to just sitting there. It was slowly driving Keith insane, and he wanted to storm over, rip the earbuds out and demand to know what the hell he was doing.

But why? Keith didn’t have an answer to his own question. So, he ignored it and drowned himself in making coffee, tea, hot chocolate, and other drinks they had on their menu. It was simple and braindead, that way Keith wouldn’t have to think about his famous soulmate or the strange pull he felt towards Lean Guy.

Until he had to, because he was approaching the counter. Keith smiled at him over his shoulder as he finished another person’s order, delivered it, and went back to… nothing. Lean Guy had gone as quickly as he’d come, the only sign he’d been there an extra couple of dollars in the tip jar. What was it for? Keith’s insistent staring and overall creepiness? Was it the fact that Keith never kicked him out even though he really should have?

He sighed and rubbed his forehead until it was almost sore from the friction. Why was he thinking about it so much? He’d seen this dude twice in his entire life, so who the fuck cares what Lean Guy does and thinks?

Keith spun around, pulled off his gloves, and went to work cleaning up his mess. His shift was almost over, so now he had to focus on making it ready for the next person to avoid getting killed. Speaking of; Keith saw long, blond hair in the corner of his eye, and he only knew one girl who had that much hair.

“Romelle,” he greeted as he dried his hands.

“Robin,” she replied with a pointed look to his nametag. Then she smiled, and Keith couldn’t help but smile back. “Are you just about to leave?”

“Yeah.”

“Aw, too bad.”

She pulled an apron over her head and skipped over to the register, where she stuck a hand into the tip jar. Keith was about to freak out and pull her away before their boss could magically appear, but when she turned to Keith, she wasn’t holding money.

“I think it’s meant for you,” she said and showed him the messy and weirdly familiar handwriting on the note.

“Mullet Guy,” Keith read aloud. His face scrunched up at the unnecessary nickname. Keith did not have a mullet, okay?!

Keith carefully unfolded the note, and he was met with a feeling he knew this handwriting before he could even begin to think of reading the contents. The rushed w’s and neglected dots over the i’s, the way the s’s slid under the other letters on its way down… it was all so familiar.

“What does it say?” Romelle exclaimed and shook his arm, which literally shook him out of his own bubble.

Keith blinked to clear his mind, then focused back on the note: ‘What’s with the gloves?’

What. The. Fuck?

Romelle got impatient and ripped the paper from Keith’s grip, then proceeded to laugh her ass off. Keith spent that time covering his hands with the fingerless gloves once again, which only made Romelle laugh harder.

“Yeah, yeah, we get it, it’s fucking hilarious,” Keith grumbled and tried to get the note back so he could destroy all the evidence. Romelle avoided his every move.

“Who did this?”

“I don’t know,” Keith replied. He ignored the voice in the back of his head telling him he shouldn’t lie about something so trivial.

“Sure, you don’t,” she said and finally stopped laughing. Keith took the opportunity to steal the piece of paper back, then ripped his apron off and ran for the breakroom. He heard Romelle try to keep her composure long enough to take someone’s order, and he felt no regret for leaving her when he caught her giggle through the thin wall.

Keith’s apartment was as quiet as ever when he unlocked the door. He pushed away the reoccurring thought of adopting a dog he could never afford without a second job, kicked off his shoes, pushed his helmet onto the shelf above the coat rack, and threw himself onto the couch. He took out the crumpled note and studied it for the last time before he crushed it into a ball and hurled it across the room. He spent minutes staring at it before he forced himself to get off the couch to rip it up and throw it away.

Just looking at the shredded paper in his trashcan sent waves of anger through his veins. Why did it bother him so much? It was a stupid note from a stupid stranger who – if it had indeed been Lean Guy – meant absolutely nothing to him.

Keith was pulled out of his thoughts by a notification from his phone. BluePaladin is live: chill music and hopefully nothing gets broken! Was it that time already?

Keith grabbed some leftover food from his fridge, started the microwave, then made his way to his bedroom, where his PC lay discarded on the bed. He booted it up, found Twitch in a matter of seconds, and then Keith’s screen was filled by Lance’s hands, who were dancing across the piano lazily as he interacted with the chat.

By the time his food was heated up – everywhere except for the middle, business as usual – Lance was working his way through the cords of a song. His fingers moved down the neck of the guitar until the sound was almost too light for the microphone to pick up, and then they were right back up to the lower tones. Keith’s eyes followed every movement, because this man was his soulmate, and holy shit, he was watching him through a screen.

Keith ignored the oncoming existential crisis, and he focused instead on reading what people were saying in the chat.

it’s been a while since blue’s soulmate drew anything

it’s only been like a week tho?

that’s a week too long

The comments disappeared in the flood of people requesting songs or thirsting for Lance’s hands, and Keith felt an unfamiliar warmth spread through his body. People wanted him to draw – they enjoyed it – and who was he to deprive them of it?

Keith glanced over to his acrylics, but the exhausted part of him won over his want to impress and please. So, he went for red – because, for some reason Keith couldn’t figure out, he’d done the same thing as his soulmate and found a signature colour – black, and, just in case, blue and purple markers. Then, he began the tedious process of wracking his brain for inspiration.

In the end, he settled for the only thing he could think of; the album cover of the song he’d suggested to Lance. It consisted of black, glossy lips and a red snake slithering out between them, which meant he only needed two of the markers he’d fished out so far. He added a couple of grey shades as well, and finally, a white gel pen.

Keith pulled off the glove on his left hand and started a light sketch, half aware that any fuck up would be fully visible and on the internet maybe forever. He shrugged the thought away and dove in with his markers.

The next time Keith looked up; Lance was still playing the guitar. His hands were hypnotizing, and it took minutes before Keith manged to force himself to remember he was supposed to be finishing a drawing.

The last white highlight was placed, and Keith stared at the screen as it showed up on Lance’s skin as well. He glanced over at the chat, and he wondered, as hundreds of comments spilled in, whether any of them recognised the illustration.

Movement dragged Keith’s eyes back to the stream, where Lance was putting his guitar away, then going back to study Keith’s drawing.

“Is this what I think it is?” he asked.

Keith wasn’t sure if it was a rhetorical question or not, so he answered it.

Maybe. Probably

“Gee, thanks, that clears it up,” Lance scoffed and showed the red sentence to the camera.

what, you want me to spoil the whole thing?

“No, but you could say – I don’t know, yes or – argh, I’ll just write it down!”

Keith watched as Lance rolled up his sleeve and wrote something close to the crook of his elbow – and, because the universe was cruel, close to the crook of Keith’s elbow.

Spit it out? it said in all its blue glory.

yh, Keith wrote back.

On the stream, Lance fist pumped the air and explained that he and Keith were meant to be because they follow the same wavelength. Keith got a sudden and violent urge to find Lance and strangle him for saying something so… what? Obviously sarcastic and kinda funny? Keith forgot why he was angry in the first place.

“In honour of my soulmate finally paying attention to me, I’ll play a very special song that I know he’ll hate,” Lance announced, and yup, Keith remembered why he was angry. And of course – why didn’t Keith see this coming? – it was a Big Time Rush song.

Why do you know the lyrics? Keith asked by the time Lance had finished the ‘‘Slumdog millionaire’’ part, which had almost made him cringe out of his own body.

He didn’t know why he’d even bothered writing anything. Lance wouldn’t see it until he was done, so there was no way his rushed message would reach him before then and make him stop.

“Why do I know the lyrics?” Lance said after what felt like hours of torture. “Why don’t you?”

bc I have a life

Lance put a hand to his chest and gasped. Keith couldn’t believe this was his soulmate.

“You don’t have a life, you’re just uncultured,” Lance sniffed, and Keith didn’t even know what the fuck he was supposed to answer. So, he resorted to an idea he loved more than anything else in the world: ignorance is bliss.

Chapter Text

I put up the cover, Keith read on his arm, a few inches away from the drawing he’d finished during Lance’s stream the previous day.

?

spit it out, Lance wrote, on youtube

Oh.

Keith closed the video he had been watching on his phone and searched ‘BluePaladin spit it out’. A guitar with Lance’s now oddly familiar hands was the first thing Keith saw, and he noticed the blurry but attention catching drawing as well. Lance had recorded it after the stream last night. Keith didn’t know what to do with himself or that information.

After staring at the thumbnail for too long, Keith forced himself to click it. He was met with clips of electric guitar and drums, just as he remembered it from the song, and when Lance’s voice introduced itself, his heart almost stopped.

The chorus hit exactly right with higher notes than the original but the same heavy drums, and then the cover threw him for a loop when there was piano instead of the guitar he was used to after the intense chorus. It was so soft and different, but so right for Lance’s voice and personality, and oh god, Keith was actually enjoying himself. So much so that he was disappointed when it came to an end.

What do you think?? Lance wrote in his blue marker. Keith’s own marker hovered above his skin as he contemplated whether to be completely honest or downplay it.

It was good

Only good..?

Fuck. Really good. Happy?

Very

Pidge walked into the breakroom, where Keith was staring up at the ceiling with earplugs in and a YouTube video on his phone. They arched an eyebrow, but continued without commenting, which came as a surprise. It was sort of unsettling.

“You’re not gonna ask what I’m doing?” Keith said and chose to slump against the cheap sofa instead of trying to break his own neck. Pidge turned to look at him.

“What – you actually want me to disrupt your emo moment?”

Keith regret ever opening his mouth. “I’m not emo,” he grumbled, and Pidge laughed. From the stomach, too. Keith had never felt more insulted in his life.

“Dude, you’re listening to” – they snatched Keith’s phone from his hands before he could object, and Pidge stared at the screen as their jaw slowly dropped to the ground – “a ‘spit it out’ cover by your soulmate! If you’re not emo, I’m not a burnt-out prodigy.”

Keith didn’t know what to say, so he just glared. Pidge responded by laughing harder.

They wiped away imaginary tears as they backed up towards the door. “Really, thank you. This made work bearable.” They opened the door, and Keith returned to trying to break his own neck. Except, Pidge came right back. “Your break ended like fifteen minutes ago, you know that, right?”

Keith groaned. Usually, he’d jump up at that and try to make up for the lost time, but at the moment he just wanted to sink into the couch and disappear.

“Just leave me here to die,” Keith murmured. He caught Pidge rolling their eyes, but they closed the door anyway.

But not before getting in one last comment. “This emo edge lord, I swear – Hello, what can I get for you today?”

Keith wasn’t sure how much time had passed by the point he’d forced himself up and out of the breakroom. He’d managed to listen to the cover at least ten more times before he couldn’t ignore his adult life anymore, which meant at least another half hour. His boss was going to kill him.

“Look, the boy who lived!” Pidge exclaimed the second he appeared next to them.

“Thanks, but I’d rather not be a J.K. Rowling character.”

Pidge nodded solemnly, finished up a drink, then spun around to glare Keith down. “Half an hour, Keith. What the fuck? In the middle of rush hour?”

He sighed and dragged a hand through his hair. It fell right back into his face. “I’m sorry.”

“‘I’m sorry’,” they mocked with their best impression of Keith’s significantly darker voice. “Suck my ass, Robin Hood.”

Keith put his hands up in surrender, then took his place by the register when Pidge ushered him over there. And, because Keith was just that lucky, Lean Guy chose that moment to walk in.

His grin when he spotted Keith was blinding. Then, right after, Hunk and Summer Dress Girl appeared with hushed conversations and what felt like smiles Keith shouldn’t be seeing.

“What’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?” Lean Guy winked, and Keith just stood there. What the fuck did he just say?

“I work here?” Shit, I work here, and this is a customer. “What can I do for you today?”

“Well, I can think of a thing or two –”

Before Keith could jump across the counter and strangle him, Summer Dress Girl stepped in front of Lean Guy. “Hi! Could I get three iced coffees, one with extra cream, please?”

Keith took a deep breath, held it for a second or two, and opened his eyes with a smile in place. “Sure thing. What name would you like on that order?”

“Shay, thank you.”  

She paid while Lean Guy tried to look past her. Keith controlled his urge to either kill him with his eyes or his own hands as he told Pidge their new order. As he prepared the coffee, he could see Lean Guy watching him from the corner where the customers waited for their drinks. What was up with this guy? The cheap pickup lines, the stupid note about Keith’s gloves, the excessive staring – Keith had to stop what he was doing before he crushed the plastic cup and made the nearly finished iced coffee explode everywhere.

“Don’t forget our promise,” Pidge quipped out of nowhere, and Keith managed to make a muscle in his brain pop before he remembered the previous day.

“I won’t.”

Pidge looked over at him with a knowing smile. “Oh, but you just did, didn’t you?”

“Are you done with that?” Keith asked and pointed to the cup they were preparing. Pidge handed it over, but they didn’t let go.

“I heard about the note.” Keith got the sudden urge to jump out of a window. “Are you gonna tell him?”

“Tell him what?”

“That you’re just emo,” Pidge said, and it had been so obvious Keith hated himself for falling for it.

“Fuck off,” he retorted half-heartedly and flipped them off. Pidge’s laughter was beginning to piss him off.

“Shay,” Keith announced to get out of the conversation.

Lean Guy was the first to react – Keith couldn’t help but notice he, too, was wearing gloves… weird – but he was stopped from saying anything by Shay. “Thank you,” she said with a smile that Keith genuinely returned.

He was about to turn around and assess the work situation and whether he could slack off or not when Shay leaned in closer.

“Sorry about him,” she whispered and pointed over her shoulder at Lean Guy. “He gets nervous around pretty boys.”

Keith hated the warmth that threatened to spill onto his cheeks. “Uh… thank you…?”

Shay smiled. Keith stared. Lean Guy eyed them both.

“You guys ready to go?” Hunk interrupted. Keith sighed internally, because this meant he wouldn’t have to directly interact with Lean Guy any more than necessary.

“Yeah,” Shay answered and looped an arm around Hunk’s elbow.

“No, I haven’t asked what – hey, wait up!” Lean Guy protested, but he ran after his friends anyway. Keith closed his eyes, counted to ten, then went back to work.

He was not going to let some random dude dictate how the rest of his day would go without even being there. The same went for his soulmate. Nothing mattered more than money, and no thoughts were going to get in Keith’s way of working his way up to a job he could actually use his way too fucking expensive degree in.

Keith opened the door and hit a wall smelling of cheesy heaven. His stomach growled, and he wrapped his arms around himself to hopefully either dampen the sound or stop it all together. It didn’t work, and by the time Keith had made his way over to Pidge who had gotten off work earlier than him, his stomach was even more aggressive than earlier.

“Someone’s hungry,” they remarked.

“Really?” Keith deadpanned, then picked up a menu.

Pidge took it out of his hands and placed it back on the table. “No need, I already ordered.” Keith was not feeling particularly adventurous that day, so he side-eyed them as he thought of all the horrible decisions they could’ve made. Pidge rolled their eyes and pointed to an option on the menu. “Hawaiian,” they said, and Keith shuddered, “half without pineapple, the other with, since you insist on being a little bitch.”

“Not my fault your tastebuds are disabled,” he muttered, and before Pidge could bring down hell upon him, a waiter walked up to their table.

“One Hawaiian pizza, half without pineapple?” they asked. Keith was tempted to say no, but Pidge beat him to it.

They thanked the waiter, then dove in to search for the piece with the most pineapple. Keith watched as Pidge lifted the pizza up over their mouth to get the strings of cheese, then imagined warm pineapple juice exploding in his own mouth. Even the thought was so unsettling he had to physically shake it out of his system, which earned him a confused look from Pidge. All he needed to do to get Pidge to understand was glance at the pizza. They looked at him over the rim of their glasses with eyes that told him ‘Get your shit together, you fucking pussy’, and Keith was mature enough to admit to himself that they probably had a point.

“Are you gonna tell me about your soulmate or not?” Pidge asked with their mouth full of pizza. Keith stuffed some into his own mouth to ignore the question.

With the deafening silence going on for longer than Keith could stand, he broke. “There’s nothing to tell.”

“Uh-huh.” Pidge took another bite, and Keith thought their conversation was over. As usual, he’d thought wrong. “Oh, sorry, was I supposed to believe that?”

Keith dragged a hand over his face. “Yes, you were.” He busied himself with preparing another slice, even though he wasn’t done with his first yet. “Why are you so interested anyways?”

“Because my stoic, emo and emotionally distant friend is so obsessed he’s neglecting work – AKA neglecting money,” they stated with a pizza, filled with almost only pineapple, pointed at him.

Keith squirmed in his seat, because they’d made a valid point, and he wasn’t ready to admit to himself that he had started caring about the whole soulmate ordeal. Deflecting it is.

“I am not.” Keith wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince at that point.

“Dude, your cover’s blown. This is just getting embarrassing.”

“Thanks for the support,” Keith grumbled and stuffed his mouth so he wouldn’t have to talk for a second or two.

“You’re welcome,” Pidge replied with a hand to their chest. Keith wanted to shove a whole pineapple down their throat. “What’s his name?”

“BluePaladin.”

Pidge looked at him like he was stupid. And he was. “His real name, dumbass.”

Keith sighed, because really, there was no way he was getting out of this. “Lance.”

“Like the weapon? That’s hardcore.”

The weapon? Keith hadn’t thought of it that way before. “I guess it’s kind of a cool name,” he said with a shrug to feign disinterest. Pidge saw right through him, as always.

Pidge’s face suddenly lit up, and Keith leaned back out of sheer terror. “Give me your arm,” they demanded, which only made Keith push himself further away. Pidge rolled their eyes, pointed to his arm, waved him over, then said, “What? Are you scared?”

And it was the dirtiest of dirty tricks because Pidge knew Keith was never one to back down from such comments. So, he pulled the chair closer and laid his arm flat on the table. Pidge’s smirk sent chills down Keith’s spine, but he stayed put.

“You’re so gullible,” Pidge tutted. Keith tried to pull back from the absolute demon he called a friend, but Pidge already had a firm grip on his arm. They grabbed a pen from their bag, then started scribbling across Keith’s skin.

“What,” Keith spat, which drew attention from other tables, “are you doing?!”

“Being your wingman!” Pidge exclaimed.

Keith pulled his arm back to… a set of numbers. Oh no. “You didn’t.”

Pidge smiled from ear to ear, and Keith had to bite the inside of his cheek until he tasted iron so he wouldn’t try to kill them. “I did.”

Keith’s phone buzzed. Pidge had it in their slimy little hands before Keith could react. “Delete and block his number,” Keith asserted as he grabbed his own marker and started writing right under the number Pidge had left on his arm.

that’s not my number.

But you just texted me back?

“Pidge.”

“What?” they replied with the most innocent voice they could muster.

“I’m going to kill you.”

“God, I hope so.” The phone buzzed again, and Pidge frowned at the screen. “What did you write on your arm?”

“That it’s not my number.”

Pidge rubbed their eyes, then attacked the keyboard on Keith’s phone. He tried to pry it out of their hands, but their grip strength was unlike anything Keith had encountered before.

“Give me my phone!” Keith insisted, but Pidge only stuck out their tongue and turned the phone around to make Keith watch as they hit send. A few seconds later, a new blue sentence appeared on Keith’s arm.

oooh, so it was your friend. I like them already

Keith slumped back into his chair as all motivation left his body. Lance knew. Pidge couldn’t be stopped. Was there a point in trying, only to waste his precious energy with no results?

“You’re doing the emotionally distant thing again,” Pidge pointed out. Keith was gracious enough to use his energy to flip them off.

Pidge went back to the phone in their hands. Keith chose to look down at his own hands as well, since he had nothing else to do. That was when he noticed new blue scribbles.

I can’t help but notice we have the same area code, it read, and holy fucking shit. Keith read it once, twice, and by the tenth time, his pulse was reaching a dangerous speed.

“Pidge,” Keith said. Pidge looked up, ready to insult or tease him, but stopped short when they saw the look on his face.

“What? What’s wrong?” Their face scrunched up with concern. Oh, Keith thought, I’m definitely winning this time.

“Give me my phone,” he demanded. They quirked a brow and scoffed. “Now.”

After a staring contest Pidge had only lost because Keith had threatened to spit on their face, they sighed. “Fine.” Keith ripped the phone out of their hands, but he slowed down when Pidge dug a nail into his forearm. “And don’t you dare even think about deleting Lance’s number. I have it saved on my phone and multiple backup servers. There’s no escape.”

Keith brushed their sort-of-but-not-really threat off, then frantically searched up his – and Lance’s – area code to figure out how big of an area he would have to either ignore or scour.

“Fuck me,” Keith mumbled when his search conjured results. The area code covered the city and a little of the countryside, but it was still a relatively small space. Small enough to be searched in a day or two. Small enough that he could bump into Lance without even knowing it. Small enough that he might’ve already, especially with his job at a coffee shop.

“What are you horny about this time?” Pidge said with an arched eyebrow and hinting smile. Keith looked up from the phone, and he felt all the colour in his face drain.

“We have the same area code.”

Pidge’s eyes went wide. “‘We’ as in you and Lance?” Keith could only nod in response. And Pidge, the bastard, cheered. “Let’s go! Let’s fucking go,” they practically screamed. Keith clenched his eyes shut so he wouldn’t have to see everyone turn to look at their table.

“Calm down, it’s a big area,” Keith lied. He really should not have told Pidge.

“I don’t care,” they protested. “Me, you and Shiro’s car tomorrow – two p.m. sharp.”

“Don’t you have school?” Pidge shrugged with a wicked grin. Keith shuddered. “Not happening – ow, what the fuck – I’m not searching for my soulmate!”

“You’re so boring, Keith.” Pidge picked up the spoon and threw it at him again. He slapped it away this time, which dotted the table with ranch.

“No, I just have some common sense.”

“Yeah, like I said, boring.”

Keith shook his head and glanced down at his arm, where even more blue was appearing. He blocked it out and focused on Pidge again, who was vibrating in their seat. “I’ll take boring over stalker.”

Pidge rolled their eyes and slumped back into the chair. “Fine. But if Lance asks to meet up, we’re going.”

“There’s no ‘we’ in this,” Keith insisted, but Pidge shushed him before he could say he wouldn’t agree to it anyways.

“As your number one wingman and best friend, I beg to differ.” Pidge jumped back into being manic out of nowhere, which almost made Keith fall off his chair. “You gotta send me his twitch!”

Keith blinked at them. “You can just search him up yourself.”

Either Pidge ignored what he said or didn’t hear it. “A link! Today, when you get home. If you don’t, I’m leaking your search history.”

Keith waited for a continuation of their threat. When Pidge went back to the pizza, he sighed. “Oh, was that it?”

Pidge smirked at him through a mouthful of food. It was the weirdest mix of gross and intimidating. “Ignorance is bliss, my dear friend.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Pidge’s smirk seemed to grow even creepier, something Keith hadn’t thought possible. “Pidge.”

Chapter Text

Another quiet evening without an expensive dog to cover his apartment in fur. Quiet, except for the insistent pinging from Keith’s phone.

Keith’s finger hovered over the delete button. He’d promised Pidge he wouldn’t delete Lance’s number, but what they don’t know won’t hurt them, right? Then again, Pidge had probably hacked his phone and was watching his every move, and Keith was not in the mood to get murdered.

Then the strangest thing happened: Pidge texted him.

If you don’t answer him, I will, it read, and yeah, Pidge was definitely watching him.

creep, Keith responded. He got flipped off emoji style as a reply. He sent the same back, then clicked over to Lance’s number, where he scrolled up to where Pidge’s texts were supposed to be. They had been deleted along with Lance’s replies.

He went back to the bottom. New messages from Lance were slowly pouring in, and Keith chose the latest and started typing his reply.

Do you live in the city or outside? I recently moved downtown

outskirts, Keith wrote. It felt wrong even supplying such vague information.

Oh, you answered! Keith didn’t know what to say, but Lance was quick to ask more questions. Keith or the mysterious friend?

Part of Keith wanted to mess with him, another didn’t have enough energy. Keith. He was supposed to be curt and detached, but curiosity won. What did you and my friend talk about?

Lance’s reply was quick; too quick for Keith to be able to distance himself from the conversation. nothing special. Just the fact that you’re like totally obsessed with me

I’m going to kill Pidge. you should probably know that they’re a chronic liar.

Weird, they said the same thing about you

yeah. because they’re a chronic liar.

With that, Keith pocketed his phone and headed for the bathroom. He ignored the notifications and blue sentences as he got ready for a shower, only to rush through it to not use too much water. By the end, he was shivering and frantically drying himself so he could put on the warmest hoodie he owned. As he brushed the towel over his arms, he couldn’t help but let his eyes scan the marks. Couldn’t help but scan Lance’s handwriting, hoping to find some similarities to Lean Guy’s note.

Keith shook himself out of it. Why would he want his soulmate to be Lean Guy? An obnoxious, annoying, unfairly handsome asshole who takes every moment he can get to tease Keith – well, every moment was maybe pushing it, but Lean Guy was certainly insistent so far with his note and that horrible pick-up line.

Another notification pulled Keith out of his own thoughts. He picked up his phone, expecting it to be jam packed with texts from Lance, but it was a nice – and terrifying – mix of Shiro, Pidge and last – and certainly least – Lance, who hadn’t even been named yet. Just a number with an area code in front which would continue to remind Keith he was so close yet so far from meeting his soulmate.

Keith started with Shiro, who had sent a cute video of puppies along with an invitation to dinner. Keith’s heart defiantly swelled up as he replied. It’d been a while since Shiro had invited him to dinner, and Keith missed the days where he could show up outside Shiro’s door whenever he wanted. Now, he had to plan it so he wouldn’t have to stumble across Shiro and Adam in the middle of being in love and disgusting together.

Next up was Pidge. link, was their only word, and Keith complied. After the link to Lance’s twitch channel had been sent, he moved on to the dreaded texts from said soulmate.

Chronic liar or not, the views on my cover has been skyrocketing (;

Keith was seconds away from throwing his phone across the room. To hopefully avoid destroying something expensive, he read the next text. It had been sent roughly ten minutes after the previous one, and Keith felt sort of bad for leaving Lance hanging.

Hope to see you during my next stream. Pretty sure people only watch me because of you tbh

To lie or compliment? Keith could never be certain. Or because you’re talented. But idk, it’s probably because of me

Keith, Lance started, and Keith was back to wanting to throw his phone across the room. did you just compliment me??

nope. Chronic liar, remember? For once, Keith thanked Pidge for spreading lies – or half-truths, if he was going to be completely honest with himself.

Lance brushed right past Keith’s comment, you’re pretty talented yourself. But I’m superior, of course

Keith surprised himself by laughing. it’s good to see you have a vivid imagination

The bubble that indicated Lance was typing appeared and disappeared many times before he settled on rude. Keith laughed again, and this time it came as less of a surprise, but it still left a weird feeling in his stomach. Like worms crawling around and eating away at his intestines. Keith decided he hated it… but also couldn’t wait until next time it would show up.

Hours before Keith was supposed to be at Shiro’s house, all he could think about was an idea he’d been carrying around with him for a while.

By the time he’d sat down, found a stream to have in the background and prepared all finer details, it was too late to abort mission. He had to finish his project now. If he left it at such a cliff-hanger he would lose his mind, and Keith decided Shiro and Adam would just have to wait. That was if he couldn’t manage to complete his painting before he had to leave, and the cocky part of him was so certain he could, he forgot to check the time when he started the sketch on his arm.

Time flew as he painted orange over blue, carefully shaping the petals into wild flames with each deliberately messy stroke, and as he moved on to the second flower, he realised he might’ve been a bit generous thinking he could finish this in a couple of hours.

It was a relatively small piece, yet Keith had spent over an hour on shading and perfecting the skull, only to spend another hour on one singular flower. Not four, or even two, one. And he had to leave in – Keith glanced up at the clock – fifteen minutes. Keith dipped his paintbrush in the blue, then started on the smallest flowers. Suddenly, he comprehended what he’d seen.

Fifteen minutes? he thought and doublechecked the time. It gave him the same results.

When Keith looked down at his painting again, blue text was spreading across his arm an appropriate length away from the skull.

immaculate timing as always, it read, then Keith’s phone went off.

Before he checked his phone, he grabbed a red marker. look at you and your big words

Another notification from his phone. He picked it up, and he was not surprised to find out it was Lance, whose name remained his number.

Forgot I could just text you lol

I’m streaming soon, you gonna be there?

can’t, I’m already late for dinner, Keith wrote back, and oh fuck, he was late for dinner.

As his phone notified him of more messages from Lance, Keith rushed around his room as he tried to figure out what he was going to wear. Was Adam going to be there? Were they eating takeout, or did Keith have to put in effort and look presentable? Should he bring a gift, like a bottle of something or dessert? Maybe Shiro expected Keith to make food with him, and he should arrive earlier than promised?

Keith checked the time once again and decided casual would have to do.

In a matter of minutes, Keith had managed to freshen up and look somewhat socialised. On his way out of his apartment, he fished out his phone to check the time, but his eyes caught on the new texts from Lance.

As Keith changed Lance’s contact info while trying to run down the stairs without tripping and dying, a smile grew wider on his face.

dinner

I can wait an hour or two

not for you of course, but because I have very important business to attend to

not for you, you hear? Copy that?

Keith

You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?

“Shiro?” Keith called into the house as he stepped out of his shoes.

Shiro poked his head around the corner and smiled. “Hey, Keith!”

Judging by the messy hair and the sound of a movie in the background, casual had been the right choice.

“Oh, hey, Keith,” Adam said and pulled on a jacket. Keith returned his hug when he stepped closer.

“Hey,” he responded, then leaned against the wall as he watched Adam pick out shoes. “Where are you going?”

“A birthday party.” Adam stood up straight, gave Shiro a quick kiss, and was out the door before Keith could ask anything else.

“Okay,” he drawled and spun around to look at Shiro, who was still smiling. “Why do I feel like this is a trap?”

“Must be your paranoia talking,” Shiro said with a dismissive wave of his hand. He wrapped an arm around Keith’s shoulders and dragged him into the kitchen, where a pan was filled to the brim with diced vegetables and noodles. “Help me set the table.”

Keith knew he had no choice, so he gathered all the basic things they’d need, then headed for the living room. The television was blasting some gory show Adam and Shiro watched religiously, and Keith was pretty sure this was their fifth binge in half a year.

As Keith spread out the bowls and utensils, Shiro scrolled through the too many options of shows and movies, only to land on one he knew Keith loved. The so-called paranoid part of Keith – he liked to call it his intuition – activated the alarm bells, and he just knew Shiro was set on interrogating him.

An hour later, Shiro still hadn’t said a word. Well, he’d commented on the movie and occasionally made small talk, but it was far from the existential crisis Keith had prepared himself for.

His nervous energy had to go somewhere before he exploded, and so his leg had been bouncing a little too fast a little too often for it to be discreet, and Keith knew that Shiro knew, and god damnit, that interrogation was going to happen soon, wasn’t it?

“Keith,” Shiro said. Keith’s leg stopped as he waited anxiously for a prying question or a demand to tell him what was going on in his life. “Is there something you wanna talk about?”

“I knew it,” Keith grumbled. The long-awaited question had finally arrived, and Keith felt oddly relieved. Did he want to talk about something? No, that would be insane.

“Knew what?”

“That I’m just here ‘cause you wanna interrogate me,” Keith answered and twisted his fork around on the empty plate. Shiro winced at the sound it made, but he didn’t stop him.

“I wasn’t going to, but now that you mention it…” Shiro trailed off with an arched brow and a growing smile. Keith wanted to use his hours of training and gained muscle to punch him in the face and, hopefully, break his nose. But then again, Shiro could flick him with his prosthetic finger and break Keith’s arm, so maybe not.

“Don’t start.”

“Hey, I didn’t start this,” Shiro said and leaned forward to turn the volume down. Keith hated how dad-like it was.

“I definitely didn’t start –” Keith gestured between them, then at the entire room because he had no clue where he was going with his sentence “– this.”

“Uh-huh,” Shiro agreed.

He didn’t elaborate, so Keith reached for the controller. Shiro wouldn’t let him.

“Now that we’re here anyways,” he started, “let’s talk.”

Keith sighed and admitted defeat. He threw himself back against the armrest with his arms crossed. He ignored the smile Shiro tried to subdue. “About what?”

“About you,” Shiro said, which cleared up absolutely nothing. Shiro nudged his foot, and Keith met his eyes. “And that soulmate of yours. I heard he’s famous.”

Keith groaned and grabbed the nearest pillow in hopes he could strangle himself with it. “What did Pidge tell you?”

“His name’s Lance, he’s a famous – what was it, twitch streamer?” Shiro looked to Keith for affirmation. Keith gave a curt nod, and immediately regretted even participating in the conversation. “I was thinking you could fill me in on the rest.”

“You already know the rest,” Keith guessed. The badly hidden smile gave him his answer.

“And what if I don’t?” Shiro ruffled his hair, and Keith told himself he did not retaliate because he was just that good of a person. “Come on, I wanna know who my little brother’s soulmate is.”

Keith’s resolve melted away. He pushed himself up from the armrest and dragged a hand down his face. Why was he doing this?

“Fine,” he said, and Shiro patted his shoulder. It didn’t help; Keith continued to hate his life. “Lance is… I don’t know what to say.”

“How about what you think about him?”

“Well… he’s talented,” Keith started, and it was as if a dam broke inside him, because he could feel words trying to push their way through. They were as few as ever, but they were words he’d only thought before, and they were slightly terrifying. “He can play guitar, piano, drums, bass, and – basically everything. And his voice, Shiro.

And you know how he’s a streamer? Yeah, we’re talking millions of followers. And I’m his soulmate. Oh, and I’ve painted during his streams, and apparently chat loves me? I don’t know, maybe I should just stop doing that –”

“Why?” Shiro interrupted, and Keith didn’t know what to say. “They like it, right? Wouldn’t it just make everything worse if you stopped?”

“I guess…?” Keith concluded. He wasn’t convinced, but the part of him that loved the attention was cheering.

A notification from Keith’s phone prompted Shiro to ask another question as Keith checked what or who it was. “Is it Lance?”

It was.

“No? Why would it be? And how –” Realisation dawned on him. “Pidge told you.”

Shiro nodded with a satisfied yet somehow blank face.

“Then you also know about the whole area code thing.” The frown told Keith he didn’t.

“Area code?” Shiro asked. Keith desperately wished he could life-is-strange this bullshit and never commit the same mistake again. “Don’t tell me Lance – your soulmate – lives in the same city?”

“No, no, totally not, I was going to say…” Keith wracked his brain for an excuse, “that he lives in another state. Country, even.”

Shiro only had to blink at Keith to make him lose his cool. “Okay, fine – yes, he lives in the same city.”

“I’m guessing you’ve met him, then? And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“What? No, I haven’t met him,” Keith protested, but after his continuous untrustworthiness, Shiro was justified in staring him down. “I promise.”

Shiro’s hard gaze turned soft, and Keith almost got whiplash. “Why not?”

Keith’s mood soured. He’d expected Shiro to understand better than anyone, but after meeting Adam, he should’ve anticipated the change. All thoughts of their mother would be forgotten. The way she’d packed up her bags and left with no explanation. How their dad had spent months working his ass off to provide for all three of them. The times he’d accidentally left his bedroom door open during the evenings when he’d thought Keith had gone to sleep. How Keith had pushed himself up against the wall and listened to him cry until he couldn’t stay awake any longer. How he’d tucked his dad in and flipped the picture of Krolia down so he wouldn’t have to look at her face. At their likeness.

Shiro sensed the shift, and he scrambled to drag Keith back from the same old toxic mindset. “I get why, it’s just… he seems like a good person. You paint for him, you didn’t delete his number, you don’t ignore your phone when he texts you, you watch his streams – it all just kinda points to, you know –”

“That I like him?” Keith finished. Shiro nodded. Keith’s brain felt like scrambled eggs. “I don’t.”

“I hear you, loud and clear,” Shiro agreed with his hands up, one still clutching the controller. “But –”

“Nope, shut up.”

“Keith.”

“No.” Keith reached for the controller again, and Shiro let him have it. “Just – leave it alone.”

“Okay. Yeah, that’s – I will.”

Keith turned up the volume and fazed Shiro out of his sideview as he tried to override the thoughts in his head with the action on the screen.

It didn’t work, and all he could think of were tan hands on a keyboard, with a red, blue and purple painting slowly forming on his arm.

I don’t like him, Keith convinced himself, because that was the truth. Fate wasn’t going to decide who Keith ended up with – he wouldn’t let it.

Chapter Text

Keith also convinced himself that fate didn’t exist at all, and that it was totally fine for him to be over the moon when Lance told him he’d be streaming soon.

Even when Pidge told him that they’d be coming over to watch the stream with him, it didn’t destroy his motivation to paint, or his happy-go-lucky mood. It was… refreshing in a saltwater way.

Keith sat down in front of his sad excuse for a TV and connected his PC to it. Just as he was getting ready to continue his painting, someone knocked on the door. Before he could open it himself, Pidge came waltzing in.

“The door was locked,” Keith realised.

“It was?” Pidge said with fake shock. “Maybe you’re becoming senile.”

Keith returned the fakeness with a laugh, then flipped them off. They returned the gesture and went straight for Keith’s kitchen, which he already knew was devoid of snacks – he’d eaten them all himself the second he’d gotten home from dinner with Shiro.

Pidge discovered the lack of food, and they came back into the living room with their arms crossed. “Your kitchen is depressing.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Keith answered. He tried to focus back on his painting, but he got even more distracted when Pidge jumped onto the couch next to him. They grabbed his arm and studied the unfinished artwork.

After a few nerve-wracking seconds, they looked up at him. “Is this what I think it is?”

“Depends,” Keith said. Pidge raised their eyebrows. “Maybe.”

They sighed and both metaphorically and literally let go of Keith’s arm. “Fine. Live your emotionally distant life, I don’t care.”

Keith gave a curt nod as he tapped the waiting screen for Lance’s stream. “Good.”

“Great,” Pidge countered.

They sat in the quiet for a while. Keith stared at his arm and the swirls of flames he’d meticulously painted there, at the skull he imagined lay in his father’s grave.

“It is,” Keith said. He cleared his throat and dared to look in Pidge’s direction. They stared dead ahead, but the line their lips had turned into told him they were listening. “It’s been a couple of years, and I just… wanna remember him.”

“Yeah,” Pidge agreed and looked at him. “It’s a beautiful painting.”

Keith was about to answer when Lance’s upper body appeared on screen with a guitar on his lap. He said his usual intro with the chat exploding in the background with questions and some conspiracy theories. Most mentioned Keith, and he could feel his face heating up. It was a welcome distraction, which Pidge picked up on the second they decided to tease him.

“I bet you’d love to be that guitar,” they snickered, which earned them a punch that was aimed at their side but found its way to their shoulder instead. Their complaints satisfied Keith either way.

“Sorry I’m so late today,” Lance said from the TV. The first comment Keith noticed questioned whether it was because of him or not. “Not to be a party-pooper, but it’s not because of my soulmate.”

“What a fucking liar!” Pidge exclaimed and pointed at Lance accusingly. All of chat agreed with them.

Meanwhile, Keith breathed a sigh of relief. Chat was already obsessed with him – which felt nice to some extent – but he didn’t need more attention. It was enough for him to be recognised for his art.

Speaking of his art, chat had now started to notice Keith’s most recent one, and he felt compelled to finish it. Something Pidge understood somehow, and they gestured towards the art equipment Keith had prepared.

“Don’t mind me,” they insisted.

So, Keith didn’t mind, and he dove into his own world which was instantly crammed full of fire, soft guitar, and flashes of memories he hated to relive. Flashes of smoke that rose to the sky along with sparks and mist from the water. The look on Shiro’s face when he’d realised their father would be out there, helping. The smell of burning skin outside the apartment complex that was slowly burning to the ground. The funeral filled with firefighters and flags but devoid of his mother.

Keith pushed them far away. He focused on his surroundings to break out of his own brain, and it didn’t take long for Lance’s voice to effortlessly guide him into the peace of mind he longed for. Keith was slightly horrified at how easy it was to accept.

Keith painted the last spurt of yellow, then leaned back to admire his work from afar. To get even more of a perspective, he looked up at the TV, where his skull with flaming flowers were decorating Lance’s arm as he played a song Keith didn’t recognise.

A ringtone broke the moment, and Keith watched Lance as he searched around for his phone. “Sorry, I forgot to put it on silent,” Lance said as he picked it up. “I’m an idi –”

His sentence cut off as Keith guessed Lance stared at his screen.

“Is his ex calling him or something?” Keith thought out loud.

He looked over to Pidge as if they would have his answer, but all he found was his phone in their hands. The next thing he noticed was a red button at the bottom and – fuck no.

“Pidge,” Keith warned. They glanced up at him with the evilest smile Keith had ever seen before. All the alarm bells in his head went off at once.

Keith couldn’t think straight, and Pidge darted away from him before he could even come up with the idea of taking his phone back. Just as he got up to chase them around his tiny apartment, a voice sounded from Keith’s phone. Then the same ‘hello?’ echoed from the TV’s speakers, and Keith was going to kill Pidge.

“Hey!” Pidge said. They dodged Keith’s lunge, and their entire interaction could be heard seconds later on Lance’s stream.

“Who – what is – huh?”

Pidge reached for the controller so they could turn down the volume on the TV, and it gave Keith an opportunity to try for his phone. Either Pidge was just that good or they were Spider-Man undercover, because they jumped over the couch with Keith’s phone in one hand and the remote in the other.

“I don’t think I’ve introduced myself before – I’m Pidge, Keith’s best friend.”

“Pidge, I swear to fucking god, I’m going to stab you and throw you in a dumpster,” Keith whispered furiously. They ignored him.

“Oh, right!” Lance said. Keith could hear the confusion and glee mixed in his voice. “The one who gave me his number?”

“Yeah!” Another failed attempt from Keith. Another bashful smirk from Pidge. “I’ll let you get back to serenading Keith in a second, I just wanted to – fuck – Keith, you dick!”

While Pidge had been distracted trying to get their point across, Keith had slowly advanced on them. Now, he had Pidge in a headlock as he glanced back and forth between the TV and his phone. What was he supposed to do now?

“Say something!” Pidge urged. Keith tightened his hold.

“What the fuck am I supposed to say?” Keith retorted, and Pidge only laughed at him.

“Uh, Pidge?” Lance butted in. Keith’s focus went back to the stream, where chat was moving at lightspeed. He took a deep breath and tried to think of whether he should just hang up or not. “Keith?” Lance tried instead. Keith’s heart skipped a beat at how personal it suddenly felt.

Keith groaned and took a chance. “Yeah?” He regret it the moment he’d said it.

“Okay, wow, uh, I wasn’t – I didn’t expect that.”

“What?”

Pidge giggled. Keith glared at them, and they only laughed harder.

“How do I – well, you sound… familiar.”

Keith’s heartbeat exploded along with the second wave of fast paced comments from the audience. Had Lance walked into his workplace without him knowing? Had they met on the street and apologised for bumping into each other?

“It’s probably just your imagination,” Keith said instead. He hoped that was the case.

“Probably,” Lance agreed.

Silence. Awful, awkward silence. But, of course, Pidge had to be the one to break it.

“Hey, Lance, want me to describe Keith’s sixpack? –” Keith slapped a hand over their mouth.

“No! Nope, he doesn’t. I’ll just – Pidge, what is wrong with you? – I’ll stop disturbing you now.”

Keith wiped his hand on Pidge’s face as he tried to understand what Lance was thinking through his body language. It was impossible to interpret.

“You’re not disturbing me, per say,” Lance responded with one hand waving through the air as the other held his phone close to his mouth. Keith had to shake his head to stop staring. “And about that sixpack…”

“I’ll just – bye,” Keith mumbled, then hung up before Lance could object. His plan failed since he heard it anyway through the stream, but it was still better than through the phone.

Keith threw his phone away and let Pidge go. They rubbed their neck and glared at him, but he felt no inkling of remorse.

“You are a fucking asshole,” Keith seethed.

He plopped down on his couch and logged out of Twitch with shaky fingers. What the fuck just happened? He buried his face in his hands as he tried to control his breathing. He went through the conversation in his head, and the only conclusion he came to was that he was hiding his phone the next time Pidge came over. Especially if he was painting.

“Hey, Keith?” Pidge said from the other side of the couch with a careful smile on their face.

“What?” he grumbled. Pidge licked their lips, and Keith felt sort of bad.

“I’m sorry.”

Keith sighed, because really, he sucks at staying mad at Pidge and their stupid decisions. “It’s fine.”

Keith saw the relief on their face, but then they ruined it by saying, “Good, ‘cause I regret none of it.”

Keith froze, then their chase across his living room flashed through his mind, and he couldn’t help but laugh.

When Pidge started laughing along with him, he took a deep breath. “I’m still going to kill you, though.”

“Good luck,” Pidge smirked.

The next morning, Keith was up and ready to be stressed constantly until his shift ended.

It had started calm and collected, then quickly derailed when rush hour came around the corner, and it was finally coming close to an end a few hours after morning had turned into afternoon. Only, Keith had been too optimistic when he’d packed up his things, and really, he should’ve expected someone to call in sick.

“Welcome back to hell,” Pidge said over their shoulder as they finished up an iced coffee. Keith wanted to rip it out of their hands and drink it himself.

As Pidge snatched up the drink to give it to the waiting customer, the lid fell off. The iced coffee spilled all over their apron, and Keith used his body to shield Pidge as the entire café looked over to see what had happened.

“I’m sorry,” Pidge said to the costumer. “I’ll make a new one right away.”

“I’ll do it,” Keith insisted. He sent the costumer an apologetic look, and they smiled back at him with the same intent.

Pidge took their apron off and headed for the back room, but not before turning back to Keith. “Thanks.”

Keith waved it off, then got to work.

When the last ice cube had been covered with coffee, he made sure to grab the cup itself and not the lid. Just as he handed the drink over, Pidge opened the door with a new apron on. This one, Keith couldn’t help but notice, had no nametag. He considered removing his own, but he was already on thin ice with his boss, so he decided it was better to be called the wrong name than fired.

“Thanks,” Pidge sighed. They started another iced coffee even though no one had made an order since Pidge had left to change, so Keith guessed they were making it for themself.

He leaned against the counter and watched Pidge as they expertly moved along the workplace, and he’d lost himself so badly in their drizzling of caramel that he hadn’t noticed the bell going off.

A hand brushed against his upper arm, and Keith’s soul left his body as he jumped and almost tore down a shelf. He spun around and – Lean Guy?

“Woah there, cowboy,” he said with his hands up in surrender. Or was it meant as defence? “You good, –” his eyes flitted down to read what Keith presumed was the nametag on his shirt – “Robin? Wait, Robin? Like Robin Hood?”

Keith heard Pidge snort behind him, and he subtly elbowed them. Keith really should’ve quit the second his boss had given him an old nametag.

“Sure,” he responded with his customer service smile and voice in place. “I’m sorry about that. What can I do for you today?” Another snort from Pidge. Keith took a deep breath and kicked them in the shin, which earned him the exact same treatment back. His practised smile stayed put as he internally screamed through the pain.

“One coffee with extra sugar and cream, please.” Keith was ready to ask the routine questions, but Lean Guy beat him to it. “To-go.”

“Okay…” Keith punched in the order. “Is that all?” A nod was the only answer he got. “What name would you like on that?”

“Oh, uh, Charles,” Lean Guy – Charles… apparently – answered with flushing cheeks and nervous fingers tapping the counter.

Keith didn’t need to direct him over to the corner, and he absolutely couldn’t keep his eyes off him this time around. He’d gotten so flustered over a name… something was definitely up with this guy, and Keith was now set on figuring it out. Well, his resolve was to watch him somewhat closely if he ever came again, so, not the greatest plan out there. But still! Keith was going to stare that motherfucker down until he confessed –

“Yo, Robin from fucking Batman,” Pidge whispered furiously and snapped their fingers in front of his face. “Seriously, what is up with you?”

Keith focused back on what he was supposed to be doing, and he threw sugar all over the counter in an attempt to stop it from making the coffee overflow. Pidge shoved the iced coffee they’d been making into his face. He thanked them as he took a sip to calm himself down.

“Nothing,” Keith insisted. Pidge didn’t look impressed.

“Uh-huh, and I didn’t hack the FBI – shit, dude, stop!”

He’d done it again, but this time the cream was the culprit. “I blame this one on you.”

Pidge drew a deep breath and took over for Keith before he could mess up further. “You know what? I’ll let this one slide because I know you’re angsting over your soulmate.”

“Angsting? I’m not angsting over anything or anyone.” Keith crossed his arms, and he knew Pidge knew he was lying with the way they eyed his pose.

“What would you call those texts you sent me at three am yesterday, then?”

“I’d call it…” Keith pretended to not think too hard about it, “a casual panic attack.”

Pidge stared. Then they snapped on the lid, pushed the coffee into Keith’s hands and patted him on the shoulder with a huge sigh. Keith stood completely still, confused about what that was supposed to mean.

He broke out of it when he made eye contact with Charles – it just doesn’t fit – who nodded to the coffee in Keith’s hands with a questioning smile. Keith put on his workface and set it down in front of him.

“Enjoy your coffee, sir.”

“Oh god, please just call me Charles.”

“Okay…” Keith realised his hand was still on the cup, so he started pulling back. At that exact moment, Charles decided he should grab it, and their skin-to-skin contact sent sparks up Keith’s arm. He coughed and tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Enjoy your coffee, Charles.”

Another grin, and Keith figured their conversation was over, so he turned to see if Pidge needed any help. They shook their head, then nodded towards Keith. No, towards Charles, who was still there when Keith turned around again. He took a sip of his drink, and Keith watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down.

“Is there something I can help you with?” Keith asked in what he hoped was a polite tone.

Charles took another sip as he stared at Keith. He squirmed, but he tried to hide his discomfort by adjusting his apron and nametag.

“It’s weird,” Charles finally said with a tip of his drink towards Keith. “I feel like I know you.”

Pidge snorted, which made them both turn to see what they thought was so funny about that. “The only time Robin over here –” Pidge gave him a pointed look “– goes outside, is for the gym.”

“Really?” Charles said and looked him up and down. Keith hated the shiver that ran down his spine. “My soulmate is apparently a gym-freak, too. Maybe you know him?”

Keith’s heart took a bizarre drop into his stomach. “So, you know your soulmate?”

“Well…” Charles scratched the back of his neck, and his relaxed grin transformed into a nervous one. “Uhm, so, I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation about soulmates, and – fuck, that sounds super creepy, I promise it wasn’t intentional or anything –”

“Dude, it’s fine,” Keith said with his hands up, trying to calm Charles down. He then remembered he was at work, and dude wasn’t exactly professional. “I mean sir, our dearest customer, or… something.” Keith noticed his boss lurking in the background, so he moved over to the sink closest to the corner Charles was leaning against. He piled it full of dirty utensils and pulled off his gloves as he said, “What about the soulmate thing?”

“Well, you see… it’s just – how do I put this? I don’t know him know him, you know? And uh, do you have, like, problems talking to yours? Because I do, but nobody else in my life does, and, I don’t know, I thought it could be nice to talk about shit like that,” Charles finished, and, with what Keith could only call a look of realisation, his whole face turned red. “If you’re cool with that, of course! Damn it, I sound like a stalker.”

Keith couldn’t help but laugh. “You kinda do, yeah.” Keith grabbed a brush and started washing a kettle so he wouldn’t have to look at Charles. “So, what’s the deal with your soulmate?”

“He’s just so…” Charles waved his hand around as he searched for the right word, “unsociable. It’s been, what, over twenty years? And the longest conversation we’ve had lasted less than ten minutes.”

It reminded Keith of himself, and he ignored the churn of regret it set off in his stomach. “Oh, that’s… harsh. Your soulmate sounds like an asshole. No offence.”

“Thank you! Hunk always blames it on me, says I’m ‘coming on too strong’ and ‘that I should calm down’.” Charles tapped his cup, and Keith’s eyes traced the movement. “He’s right, of course, but it still hurts, you know?”

Keith couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not. He hoped so, because he laughed again.

“What about yours, Robin Hood?”

Keith’s mind took a second too long to remember that Charles thought his name was Robin. He decided to roll with it. It wasn’t a lie, it was just… a misunderstanding. “Oh, yeah, uh… mine’s basically the opposite of yours?” Keith scrubbed a spoon extra hard to distract himself. “I’m kind of the problem.”

“No shit? Maybe we could help each other, then.”

Keith could practically feel the smile Charles’s face lit up with. “Maybe,” he answered, because honestly? He wasn’t too enthusiastic about spilling his guts to some random stranger – which came as no surprise. Especially not to Pidge, who subtly tried to inch closer to probably reach some sick goal. Keith caught every movement out of the corner of his eye, but he decided to let it happen. He was too tired to care at that point.

“Hey,” Pidge said over their shoulder. Keith turned to look at them.

“What?”

“I think your break’s coming up.” They blinked at him as if that would hide their true agenda. Keith knew Pidge too well to fall for it.

“No, I have –” Keith glanced at the clock on the wall “– an hour to go.”

“You little shit,” he heard Pidge grumble.

“Shit, I’m gonna be late” Charles mumbled as he checked his phone. He directed his attention over to Keith and waved as he said, “Gotta go, see you around.”

“See you around,” Keith echoed. He forced himself to not follow Charles with his eyes as he left. The only affirmation that he was actually gone was the bell going off.

“Really?” Pidge scolded after a second of silence. “You’re just gonna let him think your name’s Robin?”

Keith pretended to mull it over. “Yeah.”

Pidge rolled their eyes and groaned. Then they grabbed Keith by the shoulders, spun him around, and ripped off the nametag.

“Charles is clearly into you,” they said. It made Keith want to rip his own ears off.

“Into me? We talked about our soulmates.”

“Okay, yeah, you got me there,” Pidge admitted as they tried to change the name on the tag by writing over it with a marker. Keith knew it would never work, but he didn’t have the heart to tell them. “But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to bang you.”

Keith’s face scrunched up in disgust. “I wouldn’t let him bang me, thank you very much.”

“Bullshit!” they exclaimed.

Pidge pinned the newly renovated nametag to Keith’s apron again, but the marker disappeared the second they accidentally brushed against it.

They took a deep breath, then muttered, “I’m gonna go have a little chat with our boss.”

“Pidge.” Keith stepped in front of them. The nametag might annoy him, but the thought of having his own name on it after so long felt daunting. “It’s fine.”

“It’s really not.”

“It really is.” Keith glanced at the clock again. They had an hour to go before the second rush hour began, and he could sense Pidge was getting exhausted. “Take your break – go hack the CIA or whatever it is you do to relax.”

Pidge side-eyed him as they slowly made their way to the breakroom. “You win this time.”

“Sorry, could you say that again? I didn’t quite catch that,” Keith said, and even put his hand to his ear to annoy Pidge further.

They flipped him off before disappearing behind the door.

Keith smiled to himself as he got back into the groove of taking orders, preparing them, and then cleaning the tables after customers left. It was quiet and peaceful in a way only such braindead deeds could be… until Pidge barged out of the breakroom with their phone clutched in their hands. The screen lit up their face as they stared right into Keith’s soul.

“What?” he asked. Pidge just stepped closer instead of answering. “What?!”

“You’re –” Pidge started, then shook their head. They took a deep breath, took the final last steps, and shoved their phone in Keith’s face. “Just look.”

Keith glared at them, then he grabbed their phone so he could actually see something. As he scanned the screen, he wished he’d ran away the second Pidge had stepped out of the breakroom.

“Is this a prank?”

Pidge answered with a shake of their head. Keith answered that by throwing the phone to Pidge as if they were playing hot potato.

“This is not funny,” Keith warned, but he could tell by the look on Pidge’s face that they were not joking.

Pidge handed him the phone. Keith rubbed his eyes as he paced around behind the counter, hoping that Lance’s Twitch name wouldn’t be trending when he opened them again. Nothing had changed by the time he’d mustered up the courage to check. Keith had to lean against the counter to stop himself from flinging the phone across the room.

“Everyone’s gonna forget about it in a week,” Pidge promised. They put a hand on his back and rubbed it in circles. The gesture and the words were comforting, but then they just had to ruin it by clicking the hashtag to see what types of posts could be found.

Keith pushed away from the counter so he wouldn’t have to look through them with Pidge. He didn’t want to know what people were saying. Totally didn’t have an ounce of interest in it at all.

Pidge glanced at him as they scrolled through Twitter. “Let me guess: you wanna know what it says?”

“No.” Keith crossed his arms over his chest. Pidge’s raised eyebrow told him everything they didn’t say.

“If you say so,” Pidge agreed with a shrug. Right after, their mouth formed into a surprised circle, and Keith’s resolve crumbled when they said, “Oh, look, a video!”

Keith groaned and got behind Pidge’s shoulder so he could watch with them. They offered him an earplug, which he was hesitant about when he noticed that the thumbnail was Lance holding a phone. As he suspected, his own voice was the first thing he heard when Pidge started the video.

“What the fuck am I supposed to say?”

Keith shook his hands to force the tingly feeling out of his body. Pidge’s laughter echoed from the video to real life, and Keith punched their shoulder. They rubbed the spot, glared at him, then went back to laughing when Lance said Keith’s name. They doubled over when Keith answered, and Pidge was almost in tears by the time an awkward silence filled the earplugs.

“Hey, Lance, want me to describe Keith’s sixpack? –”

Keith suddenly remembered that he had plans to kill Pidge. He just had to figure out how and where to hide the body long enough for everyone to forget they’d ever existed.

“You’re not disturbing me, per say. And about that sixpack…”

Keith clutched his arms to supress the goosebumps that spread across his body. Why did Lance’s voice have to sound so… nice?

The goosebumps disappeared when Keith’s voice cut through the air. The video ended right after Lance had rushed to tell Keith not to hang up, but it had been too late at that point.

Keith decided he’d kill both himself and Pidge so he wouldn’t have to suffer through this humiliation. Why did his soulmate have to be famous?

Chapter Text

Keith only managed to ignore his sudden boost to fame for one night.

His name was all over Twitter, and the only reason he could still find the courage to go online was the fact that no one knew who he really was. Except for his voice and most personal thoughts and feelings, courtesy of his bad habit of drawing on his skin.

Now that his soulmate was mainstream news, Lance’s streams had blown up. And, along with it, Keith’s art. It felt surreal to watch his own work appear on a random Twitter thread with crazy accurate interpretations, and part of Keith felt he had some sort of responsibility. Should he just stay in the background and like the tweets? Should he create an alternate account where he could remain anonymous but still interact with people? Or maybe he should just stay out of it.

Keith didn’t get to decide before Shiro called and interrupted his train of thought.

His thumb hovered over the decline button. “Hello?”

“Hey, Keith,” Shiro said. Keith heard clanging in the background, and he guessed Adam was making something in the kitchen. “You’re on speaker, by the way.”

“Is it Keith?” Adam asked.

“Yeah,” both Keith and Shiro answered.

After a few uncomfortably loud sounds, Adam’s voice got closer. “Hey. How are you holding up?”

“Fine?” Keith hadn’t meant for it to come out as a question.

“Sure,” Shiro said. Keith’s gullible ass thought it would end there. Of course, it didn’t. “You know, Twitch is one interesting website.”

Keith hoped his groan was loud enough for both his and Shiro’s neighbours to hear it. “Let me guess, Pidge told you again.”

“Actually, this time, it was Twitter.”

Oh, right. That.

“And Matt,” Adam added. “Who heard it from Pidge, so in theory…”

“In theory I have two people to kill,” Keith concluded, and the sigh from Shiro told him it was the wrong conclusion. Keith found he couldn’t care less.

“Or,” Shiro suggested, “you have two people to thank.”

“I like my idea more.”

“Tell that to the police,” Shiro muttered, then switched over so fast Keith’s ears started to ring. If it was to block out what came next or out of pure shock, Keith wasn’t sure. “Lance seems nice. Maybe you could invite him over to dinner with us one of these days.”

“What?” Keith asked. He had to make sure he’d heard that correctly.

“I said,” Shiro started, as if he’d said something very casual and completely normal, “you could invite Lance to dinner –”

“Okay, stop, don’t even finish that sentence.” Keith put the call on speaker mode so he could use his hands to hide his face. Did Shiro seriously think Keith would even consider going through with that? “Why would I do that?”

“Because Lance is your soulmate who happens to live in the same city,” Shiro answered, and it sounded so sensible when he said it. “Don’t you understand how lucky you are?”

“Even if I wanted to meet Lance, I wouldn’t just invite him to get grilled by you,” Keith exclaimed. A supressed snort from the other line told Keith that Adam agreed with him.

“I would never grill him,” Shiro objected. A deafening silence from both Keith and Adam made him double down. “Maybe I would, but come on – don’t tell me you’re not at least a little interested in meeting him?”

“I’m not,” Keith decided, though his crossed arms and scrunched up eyebrows said otherwise.

“Okay,” Adam agreed.

A thud and some whispered curse words later, Shiro also agreed. “Okay, yeah, that’s – okay.”

“Okay,” Keith echoed.

“Okay,” Shiro continued.

“Okay,” Adam concluded. “You should come for dinner sometime soon – without Lance.”

Keith sighed, relieved that he probably wouldn’t have to constantly defend his anti-soulmate-ness for at least a couple of weeks. “I will. Goodbye, Adam. Shiro.”

“Keith.”

He hung up, tossed his phone to the other side of the couch, then buried his face in a pillow. He was never going to live this whole trending-on-Twitter thing down, was he?

Keith woke up the next morning to thousands of texts and his arms filled with blue marker. He wasn’t surprised to find Lance had been the one to spam him, and he was even less surprised to see it had to do with Twitter.

Keith opened the messages app. He was going to answer Lance. He was going to give him a well-thought-out reply and engage in a meaningful conversation. Really, he was, but sometimes, chucking a phone across the room and going back to sleep is just a better option.

As he laid back down, he tried his best to ignore the sentences on his arm as well. It was easier said than done, but he comforted himself with the fact that Lance would never know when Keith would see them or have the opportunity to answer.

Keith’s plan to go back to sleep and ignore all his responsibilities was cut short when someone called him. At first, he had an irrational fear that it would be Lance. The caller ID was not his soulmate – Keith was not at all disappointed, thank you very much. No, it was actually much stranger than that. It was his boss.

On my one day off? Keith wanted to scream into the phone. Instead, he said, “Hello?”

“Hey, Keith, sorry to bother you,” his boss said. Judging by the fast typing and sounds of paper in the background, she was probably in the middle of something important. It only fuelled Keith’s rage for some reason he couldn’t explain. “I hate to say this, but we’re going to be short-staffed tomorrow. Are you available to take an extra shift?”

No. “I think so. When’s the shift?”

“It’s the evening and night one. You’ll be working with…” she said, then all Keith could hear was a drawn-out sigh. He waited, listening with growing murderous thoughts, until his boss finally found her words. “Pidge! Pidge and Romelle will be working as well.”

“Great,” Keith said with as much enthusiasm he could force into his voice. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Keith hung up before his boss answered. It was the only type of therapy he could afford, and it instantly made him feel better. Then he remembered that he couldn’t just hang up on his job and the money he got from it, and he went right back to smashing his face into a pillow.

As he laid there, he thought to himself that this was it. He was going to get the sleep and the lazy evening that he so desperately needed. He was going to ignore the rest of the world, and then maybe – just maybe – sneak around on Twitch without alerting Lance to his presence. It was the perfect plan. But, as all good things do, it went to shit the second Pidge tried to videocall him.

Keith declined the call multiple times, but Pidge is persistent, and Keith didn’t have the energy to deal with their ruthless persecution.

On Pidge’s seventh attempt, Keith picked up the phone.

“Bro, what the hell?!” Pidge complained. Keith contemplated hanging up once more, but then he remembered he would have to work with them the next day, and he’d rather not lose his life while earning minimum wage.

“What do you want?” Keith grunted. He felt like one of those cringy alpha males who try to make their voices sound deeper through growling.

“I have some good news.”

“Knowing you, it’s probably bad. Did my nudes get leaked or something?”

“What? Ew, no,” Pidge said as their face contorted into utter disgust. “And you have nudes? Like, on your phone?”

It was Keith’s turn to feel disgusted. “I’m not stupid. It was just hypothetical.”

“Sure.” Pidge eyed him. Keith returned the suspicion with a glare of his own, until Pidge’s mood shifted completely. “Anyways – the good news!”

“What’s up?”

“So,” Pidge started. A crash took over the speakers on Keith’s phone, and he frantically tried to turn the volume down, but, since it was just that type of day, he turned it all the way up instead. “Fuck! Shit! You cock-sucking mother –”

“Pidge, Jesus Christ,” Keith scolded with the most serious expression his tired features could form. “Language.”

Pidge positioned their phone against the wall, flipped Keith off, then left him to look at the cabinets in the background.

“What happened?”

“Just spilled an entire bucketload of coffee, no biggie.” Pidge shot back into the frame to pick up the phone, then they switched the camera.

An ungodly amount of coffee was slowly spreading on the kitchen floor, and Keith watched in silence as Pidge found a mop and started cleaning up their mess.

After being put back down on the counter, Keith couldn’t help but ask, “Why is there so much coffee?”

“So I won’t fall asleep during class,” Pidge explained. Their entire body moved along with the mop as they talked and cleaned, and it was oddly satisfying to watch. Keith almost forgot to continue the conversation because of it.

“An all-nighter?” Keith deadpanned.

“An all-nighter,” Pidge confirmed. The regret in their voice made him feel sort of sympathetic.

“What’s your reason this time?” Keith sighed.

“My soulmate wanted me to watch this show on Netflix, and one thing led to another…” Pidge shook their head and turned towards the camera. “Whatever, doesn’t matter – do you wanna hear the good news?”

Keith had almost forgotten Pidge had called him for a reason. “Sure, why not.”

“I managed to,” Pidge tapped their fingers on the counter as a makeshift drumroll and only continued after Keith joined in, “get you a new nametag!”

Keith shot up from his bed. “What?”

“I know, right?! It’s gonna be ready in a few days, and – wow, okay, you do not look happy.” Pidge got closer. Keith resisted the urge to lean away. “Why? Didn’t you want a new one?”

“I did – I do, it’s just…”

Keith scratched the back of his neck as he tried to think of what the downside could possibly be to getting a new nametag. No one would call him by the wrong name anymore. He’d feel like a valued part of the staff. None of his co-workers could tease him for having the wrong nametag. His boss wouldn’t forget his name constantly. He’d be more comfortable with customers since he wouldn’t have to explain it to anyone…

Customers. Keith wondered why Charles was the first one to pop up in his head. He decided it had to do with the fact that he’s an asshole. And made fun of the name Robin – but in a flirty way that Keith hated might have had a slight effect on him.

Yeah, Keith decided it was probably for the best to leave that thought alone.

“I don’t know,” Keith concluded. Pidge didn’t seem satisfied with his answer, but they didn’t press him further. “But thank you. Really.”

“You’re fuckin’ welcome. I almost got fired for you.”

“For a nametag? And don’t you have coffee to clean up?”

“Fuck, you’re right.” Pidge picked up the mop again at the same time they grabbed the phone. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye!”

Keith got a taste of his own medicine when Pidge hung up before he could say his goodbyes. It felt like an appropriate smack to the face.

After hours of ignoring his soulmate, Keith decided it was time to check what Lance had to say about the Twitter crisis. The texts and notes on his arms met Keith’s expectations with their equal balance of excitement, fear, and disbelief. Keith was shocked to find himself smiling as he read through the onslaught of messages, and he schooled his features into a practised poker face. There was no telling when Pidge or Shiro would decide to pop by these days, and he wouldn’t be caught dead smiling at texts from his soulmate.

Keith typed out a quick, chill reply somewhere along the lines of ‘it’ll be over by tomorrow’, then set his phone down on the table. It took a shorter amount of time than he’d admit to anyone to pick it back up.

Probably, he added.

and sorry for the late reply

it’s all good, no worries, Lance shot back as fast as ever. And maybe it’ll be over by tomorrow, but people really love soulmate related things yk

everyone has a soulmate, we’re not special

That’s harsh

Keith thought his response had been perfectly reasonable. And true. They weren’t special. Everyone could talk to their soulmate through their skin, anyone could end up famous, anyone could learn how to draw at the same or a better level than Keith. Nothing made them stick out like a sore thumb in a crowd of fated people. So why was the internet so obsessed?

Keith concluded that it would make sense to ask the one who worked on the internet for a living.

What makes us special then?

This time, it took a hot minute for Lance to answer. Keith had actually put away his phone and focused back on the movie he’d randomly put on, but he ditched that idea the second he got a notification.

People love a good fairy-tale meeting for soulmates

or it reminds them of a crazy fanfic about their OTP

the second one’s probably more realistic

If people really thought two people meeting randomly over the internet was like a fairy-tale, who was Keith to criticise them? He’d spent a fair share of his time researching conspiracy theories, so it wasn’t like he held any credibility in a discussion about realistic perceptions.

The bar seems extremely low

it is, Lance conceded. For some reason, Keith imagined Charles nodding his head solemnly. He pushed the thought as far away as he could. btw, everyone wants you to make an appearance again

fuck no, was Keith’s instant answer.

dude don’t worry, I’m not gonna invite you to my place or something

just recommend a song or text me during a stream

that feels a bit too easy, Keith answered. He bit his lip as he tried to calm down. Why had his mind instantly thought that Lance meant he wanted to meet him? He’d been respectful and kept his distance and barely even asked to see Keith’s face, so why would he suddenly just say ‘hey, wanna hang out? irl?’

trust me, they’ll take anything they can get

Keith wasn’t sure whether he took a long time to answer to keep Lance on his toes, or because he was afraid of what his answer might mean. Fine.

Seriously?? Was Lance’s answer. Keith was ready to leave him on read and try to move on with his day without obsessing too much about how he was going to ‘make an appearance’, but Lance wasn’t finished. You could call me again

Keith stopped short. What?

No pressure, obviously, Lance was quick to add, but it didn’t help Keith’s growing anxiety. Just forget I said anything

Keith wanted to answer something – anything – but his thumbs wouldn’t move. But his index finger, on the other hand, was ready by a button Keith hated more than anything else. He begged his finger to not do it.

His finger was not in the mood to cooperate that day.

“Fuck, I was not – hold on.” Lance’s answer had been immediate, and Keith watched as his life flashed before his eyes.

Stupid finger and his stupid impulsivity. “Uh,” Keith said, eloquent as ever. “I didn’t mean to – this was a mistake.”

Keith was milliseconds away from ending the call when Lance almost exploded his speakers. “Wait!”

Keith covered his phone as sounds of pots and pans clanged in the background. His palm couldn’t cover it all, and his eardrums rang louder than his alarm in the morning. He wondered why the universe hated him enough to explode his eardrums two times in one day.

The silence that followed was heavenly.

“Sorry,” Lance squeaked.

Keith gently removed his hand from the speakers, and because he had no clue what to say next, he laughed. It wasn’t a carefree, natural laughter, but rather one that would make Keith overthink whether the person liked him or hated him. And so, with that in mind, he shut up. The continued laughter from the other line told Keith his laughter had not been convincing.

Keith forced his words through his closing throat. “What happened?”

“You happened,” Lance answered, his voice merely a breath.

“Don’t you dare blame me,” Keith countered. His throat eased up slightly. He decided to not question why.

“I’m not the one who suddenly called after years of radio silence.”

Keith’s brain flipped through replies faster than he could follow, and eventually he just ended up listening to Lance cleaning up whatever mess he’d created. By the time he became aware of his lack of reply, Lance beat him to restarting the conversation.

“Are you speechless or did you hang up on me?”

“I hung up on you.”

“So, you just don’t want to admit that I make you speechless… got it,” Lance concluded.

Keith was, once again, at a loss for words. He hated it.

“Keith?”

“What?”

“Oh,” Lance said. “I thought you’d hung up on me for real this time.”

“I’m considering it,” Keith threatened, but his tone was half-hearted, something he hoped Lance was able to pick up on.

“Not if I do it first,” Lance shot back.

Keith felt a surge of competitiveness in the pit of his stomach. He clutched it with his hand to get rid of the feeling before it could become too prominent. He was seconds away from taming it when Lance’s previous comment popped back up. “We’ll see about that.”

“Oh, it’s on,” Lance cheered. “Whoever hangs up the fastest wins.”

“Get ready to lose.”

“We’ll see about that,” Lance mimicked, then started counting down.

When he was at two, Keith pressed the infamous red button.

Not even a second later, Lance called him again. Keith took his sweet time picking up, revelling in the idea that Lance was seething on the other side. Keith wondered whether that made him a sadist or not.

“Keith!” Lance shrieked. Keith decided he was definitely the opposite of a sadist judging from how his ears stung for the third time in the span of a few hours. “You cheating son of a bitch!”

“I don’t know, man,” Keith drawled with one finger on his chin. He removed it when he remembered that Lance couldn’t see him. “What were the rules again? Whoever hung up the fastest?”

“Yeah,” Lance jeered. “After I’d counted to three!”

“Really? I don’t remember anyone saying that.”

“It’s called common sense.”

“It’s called not establishing the rules,” Keith countered. He was starting to get genuinely invested in their stupid disagreement, and that would usually be Keith’s clue to back out of a situation. This time, however, he felt himself getting pulled in further.

Keith’s eyes caught on the caller ID, and his stomach plunged back down to earth. He got the sudden urge to run with no goal in mind, and his brain immediately pictured a treadmill surrounded by free-weights.

“I uh – I just remembered I’ve gotta go to the gym,” Keith stammered. He really hoped the sudden jolt of fear wasn’t audible in his voice.

“Gotta maintain that sixpack,” Lance joked, and Keith’s shoulders relaxed. He managed a weak but appropriately sarcastic laugh. “If I give you my snap, would you…?”

“No,” Keith asserted before Lance could finish his request. A disappointed groan filled the air around him.

“Pretty please?” Lance tried, but Keith only answered with an amused sigh.

“Goodbye, Lance.”

“Wait!” Lance said, and Keith got major déjà vu. “I’m streaming later. You’ll be there, right?”

Keith thought through the different options. He didn’t want to say no – he might be sort of an ass sometimes, but he had manners. And besides, he enjoyed Lance’s streams. The only thing rubbing him the wrong way was his planned appearance. Did Lance expect him to take the initiative? Was the question some roundabout way of asking Keith whether he was going to help him leave the internet in shambles once more? Or did Lance just want to know if he should go the extra mile since his soulmate would be watching?

Keith could come up with many too detailed reasons to say no to each of the different possibilities, and after fifteen seconds of tense silence, he had to land on something before it got awkward.

In the end, neutral always won. “Sure.” He didn’t promise anything, he didn’t accept or reject anything, he just… said sure.

“Great!” Lance said. Keith could tell from over the phone he was beaming, and that sense of guilt finally set in. Too late to go back now. “Okay, yeah, uh – bye.”

“Bye,” Keith replied. He watched as the line got disconnected and the messages with his fated one looked back at him.

For a moment, he forgot why they’d hung up. Then, his eyes fell on the gym bag in the corner of his living room, and he jumped up from the couch.

Time to maintain that sixpack, he repeated as motivation while he forced himself out of the house and towards his favourite fitness centre.

Chapter Text

Keith glanced in the mirror right in front of the treadmill he’d occupied for the better half of an hour. His hair stuck to his forehead, the muscles in his legs were more prominent than ever, and his face looked almost swollen. Even so, he cranked the speed up – up – up. By the time he talked himself out of pushing himself to his breaking point, his chest heaved, and his throat stung with each breath. His eyes filled with tears from the sheer pain of it, but he powered through and went another two miles.

Keith stepped off the treadmill with aching legs and a sore throat. He took one last look in the mirror before marching out of the gym, determined to get home as fast as humanly possible. A door with ‘men’s’ written on it turned out to be the only thing that could stop him.

“I am so sorry!” an oddly familiar voice exclaimed.

Keith rubbed his nose in search for blood, but it came back clean – except for a few drops of sweat. Only then did he find the courage to look up at the person who’d slammed a door in his face, and he was not surprised to find Charles standing there.

“Did you get hurt?” Charles asked with hesitant hands reaching out, his fingers twitching as if he wanted to touch him.

Keith rubbed his nose for the second time, then shrugged. “I’m okay.”

“You’re totally not!” Charles insisted, and only then did Keith notice the blood that stained his index finger. Huh. “Okay, you’re coming with me.”

Charles didn’t give Keith time to answer before he grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the wardrobe, where he pulled a huge bundle of paper from a dispenser located at the end of a shelf.

Charles thrust the balled-up paper into Keith’s face, grabbed his shoulders, and sat him down. When Keith was about to say his thanks and tell him it didn’t hurt, Charles was headed to what Keith presumed was his locker. From it, he retrieved a water bottle, which he also shoved in Keith’s face, who was now so dumbfounded he couldn’t find his words.

“I’m really sorry,” Charles repeated for the second time, and Keith was determined to make it the last.

“It’s fine,” he assured with the best smile he could manage under a sea of paper. Charles returned the smile, then broke eye contact to stare at the floor.

Keith wasn’t sure if he was expected to say anything else, so he decided to focus on his nosebleed instead. The paper was clean save for the little spot of spreading red in the middle. A mirror was conveniently placed in front of Keith, so he used it to assess the damage. It wasn’t bad at all, and he was sure it wouldn’t bleed for too long or bruise. He touched his somewhat tender nose with his pinkie.

Charles sighed dramatically, and it shocked Keith out of the staring contest he’d been having with himself. Charles sat down beside him and met his eyes in the mirror, where Keith allowed himself to study his features and the Mandela effect he gave off. I’m missing something.

A dashing smile from Charles made the almost swollen look return to Keith’s face. “Fancy seeing you here,” he said with a wink.

In any other situation, with anyone else, Keith would have rolled his eyes and actively avoided ever being alone with that person ever again. But now, just as when he’d been pulled further into Lance’s challenge, he didn’t feel the need to run. It would probably rear its ugly head after he’d been left alone for long enough, but something about Charles made Keith want to stick around, to see where their weird acquaintance and chance meeting would lead.

“Yeah,” Keith muttered. “Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”

It was Charles’s time to look swollen. He cleared his throat and stood up again, opening and closing his mouth as he tried to form a comeback. “Whatever, dude!” was his final answer. Keith raised an eyebrow at him, but he said nothing.

“It’s a coincidence, I swear,” Charles continued, and to further prove his innocence, he crossed himself. And for good measure, he added, “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Keith put his hands up in surrender. “Okay, I get it. A total coincidence.” He was planning to stop there. To end the conversation and go home to get some downtime from all the social interactions he’d had that day. Really, he was not in the mood to drag this out. “It’s just that I’ve never seen you here before.”

“Oh, uh, well,” Charles started as he scratched the back of his neck. “My soulmate works out a lot, and I was just thinking, you know… I don’t wanna disappoint him – or something.”

“Disappoint him?”

“Yeah! You know…” Charles sat down with a sigh, and Keith felt like he’d stepped several feet over a line. “It’s not that important. I just kinda went to the closest gym, so, really, no biggie. At all.”

“Yeah. No biggie,” Keith echoed as he resisted the urge to bounce his leg.

As the silence between them stretched on, he thought to himself, Wonderful, Keith. You’ve just made this the most awkward conversation to ever take place. And he felt he had to say something. So, his brain latched onto the first thing it could think of.

“How’s it going with your soulmate?”

Charles shook his head and blinked as he ran a hand through his hair. Keith forced himself to look at his face instead of his arm and the muscles he could see through his shirt. Eventually, Charles turned to look back at him.

“I think it’s going better?” he said, and Keith had to scramble to remember what he’d asked.

“That’s good.” He fought off the inkling of disappointment, then he also sucker punched the guilt that followed.

“We talked on the phone today,” Charles added. He broke eye contact and smiled down at his fumbling hands. “It was… nice.” Suddenly, Charles stilled completely and went back to looking right into Keith’s soul. “You kinda remind me of him.”

Keith froze. What? “Really?”

“Yeah!” Charles twisted his torso to face him, and Keith felt like they were way too close. “I mean, your voices are basically identical, you’re both assholes – sorry – you’re both introverted as shit, you both go to the gym, and – holy shit, you wanna hear something crazy?”

Keith wasn’t sure he wanted to. Actually, he was pretty certain he absolutely did not want to hear something crazy. And, in typical Keith fashion, he nodded.

“My soulmate said he was going to the gym,” Charles breathed. He gestured between them, and yeah, Keith decided they were definitely too close. “And what do you know? Here you are.”

Keith opened his mouth, intent on denying the whole thing, because really, what were the odds? But Charles beat him to it. “But like I said – crazy. His name isn’t Robin, so…”

“What do yo –” Keith caught himself before he could out his real name. Charles looked at him expectantly, and Keith convinced himself there was no hope in his eyes. “Yeah, of course. Crazy. My soulmate’s name isn’t Charles, so…” Keith mirrored.

He got up before he could state the similarities between Charles and Lance, because, like he’d said, it was crazy. Fate had to end somewhere, and if Keith’s soulmate ended up being Charles… he’d rather not think about what kind of sick joke that would mean so-called fate is playing on him. Besides, why would Charles give him a fake name?

“I gotta go,” Keith said as he opened his locker and stuffed his things into his bag.

Before Keith could walk out of the wardrobe, Charles grabbed his arm and spun him around. “What’s your soulmate’s name?”

“What?” Keith asked. He walked backwards until he hit the door, and Charles followed.

“Mine’s Keith,” he said, and Keith’s knees almost buckled. You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.

“I don’t know any Keith’s, if that’s what you’re expecting,” he stated, then he reached for the knob behind his back just in case.

“What’s your soulmate’s name?” Charles repeated. Keith chose that moment to turn the handle and fall into the lobby.

“Hi!” Keith said to the lady sitting at the reception. “See you next week.”

He walked over to the glass doors that would lead to his grand escape. He could hear Charles close behind him, and as he half sprinted half jogged, he reached into his bag and pulled out his keys and helmet.

“Robin!” Charles exclaimed, but Keith didn’t stop. He didn’t stop until he reached his motorcycle, only to not get anywhere before Charles could block his path. “Robin, hey, dude. Talk to me?”

Keith didn’t say anything. Instead, he pulled on his helmet and flipped the visor shut.

“Robin,” Charles tried again. “Keith? Is that your name – your real name?”

Keith did his utmost to not react, but he couldn’t stop his head from twitching towards Charles at his name spoken from his lips. He tried to salvage it. “It’s not.” He pulled out his favourite red jacket and fired up the bike, which made Charles step back a bit.

“Don’t lie to me.” Charles came up beside Keith. He reached for his upper arm and let his hand hover over Keith’s leather-covered bicep. “If we’re soulmates –”

“We’re not,” Keith insisted.

“I don’t believe that.” Charles stepped closer. Keith revved the engine in hopes he would take the hint and back off. “Give me one good reason – one good reason we’re not soulmates.”

“Your name is Charles.” Keith tightened the strap on his bag, which he’d thrown across his back. “And my name is Robin.”

Keith doublechecked that he was in first gear, released the clutch, then sped off as fast as his bike would allow without shutting down. He could barely hear Charles – Lance? – behind him as he pulled onto the road and broke every traffic rule he could think of.

Chapter Text

Keith didn’t know for how long he’d driven, only that he’d ended up outside the city at a rundown gas station. It was filled with mildly offensive merchandise, and he was barely aware of which chocolate bar he’d bought before he was back to leaning against his bike. He eyed the shop, considering whether he should burn it down or not. Ultimately, he thought it would be best to finish his snack quickly so he could cover his ambiguous face before he got hate-crimed.

Keith felt his phone vibrate for the thousandth time in less than ten minutes. He didn’t want to pick up. He didn’t want to talk to Pidge, who’d probably already heard about… whatever he was supposed to call the situation he was in. He didn’t want to talk to Shiro, who’d probably been told by Pidge. And, most of all, he didn’t want to see Lance’s name on his screen. He didn’t want to see their messages or the lack of picture on his contact information. He didn’t want to realise that he’d met his soulmate in real life, and it was Charles. Charles, who’d been coming to the café for a couple of weeks. Charles, who’d opened up about his relationship to his soulmate over deathly sweet coffee. Charles, who’d attacked Keith’s nose with a door, then profusely apologised and made Keith forget all about Lance. Charles, who’s real name is Lance.

Allegedly.

Keith noticed a car pulling into the spot next to him, and he decided it was time to leave. As he pulled on his gloves, he ignored the blue writing on his hand and the one word he’d managed to catch. Or rather, the one name.

“Where the hell have you been?!” Pidge yelled at Keith, who’d stopped in the doorframe the moment he’d spotted them in his living room.

“Loca,” he murmured.

“This is really not the time,” Pidge scolded, but they had a slight smile growing on their face.

Keith returned it. He threw his bag into a corner and hung up his jacket, happy to finally be rid of the smell of petrol even though it was his favourite. As he slumped down on the floor next to Pidge, he distantly wondered how they’d gotten inside.

Pidge grabbed Keith’s hand and ran their fingers across his palm. It was a strange feeling since they weren’t exactly known for physical affection, but Keith felt the stress seep out of his body.

“Keith?” Pidge asked. Keith forced himself to open his eyes. “Is Charles really…?”

He sighed and closed his eyes again. He considered not answering at all, but he found there was no point in delaying the inevitable. “Probably.” Keith didn’t need to look at Pidge to know they were eyeing him with doubt. “Yeah. He is.”

The fingers on Keith’s palm tensed, then left altogether. Keith opened his eyes to find Pidge on their way to his kitchen. He should have followed considering Pidge’s track record of absolutely demolishing his food, but he was barely able to keep his own lungs going. Keith decided he could make do without nutrition for one day.

Mumbled voices came instead of clinking of pots and pans, and Keith’s senses sharpened. Everything was suddenly sharper, and he felt like he could hear across the world if he really tried. He was grounded real quick when he could barely even make out Pidge’s voice through one thin wall. And, as if fate was really just trying to fuck him up as much as possible, the one word he did make out was Charles.

Keith was up on his feet and in the kitchen in seconds, where Pidge was sitting on the counter with a finger to their lips as a signal for Keith to shut up. He wanted to say he hadn’t even said anything yet, then remembered that counted as speaking.

Pidge nodded. “Okay. I haven’t seen him, but I’m sure he’s alright.” A voice on the other side of the line. Keith would recognise it anywhere at that point. “He’ll come around; I promise.” Another nod. “I’ll talk to you later. Bye, Lance.”

“When did you two become buddies?” Keith found himself asking. That had not been the plan.

“Ever since you decided to disappear for five hours,” they shot back. Keith pulled out his phone for the first time in five hours… apparently – and holy shit, he had hundreds of missed calls. It was an unhealthy mix of Lance, Shiro, Pidge, Adam, and even a couple from Romelle. He felt exhausted from even the thought of reconciling with any of them.

A knock on the door pulled him out of his anxiety laden mind. Another knock, this one more desperate than the first one.

When Keith didn’t move, Pidge jumped down from the counter and opened the door without checking through the peephole first. Shiro basically fell into the room, and the second his eyes met Keith’s, he was running. Keith considered doing the same in the opposite direction.

As Shiro buried him in a hug, Keith could make out Adam walking into his apartment as well. There was something in his hand, but Shiro’s chest blocked it from his view. He decided it probably wasn’t as important as his brother, who was currently trying to kill him.

Keith slapped his arm three times. “Shiro,” he murmured when Shiro didn’t let him go, and only then was he allowed to take a deep breath of air.

Shiro pulled back to look at Keith, and right when he thought Shiro was going to cry, he shook him senseless instead. “Where the hell were you?!” he demanded, but he didn’t let Keith answer before smothering him in another hug.

“I just went for a ride. I’m fine,” Keith assured. Shiro did not seem convinced, and the raised eyebrows sent ice down Keith’s spine. “I mean it. I just needed some alone time.”

From across the room, Pidge snorted. “Yeah, right. Let me remind you that you came running the second I said Charles.”

Keith felt his face heat up. “I didn’t run.”

“Charles?” Shiro interrupted.

“You didn’t tell him?” Keith asked Pidge, who merely shrugged.

“Who’s Charles?”

“Charles is a regular.”

Keith wasn’t in denial, and no one could tell him otherwise. He had come to terms with it while trying to ignore the confederate flag hanging a few feet away from him, but now, standing there in the living room with Shiro’s hand pressing down on his shoulder and a little puppy barking in a cage, he didn’t feel ready to face reality.

Wait.

“Adam,” Keith whispered as he tried to stop his eyes from popping out of their sockets. “Since when do you have a dog?”

“Since never,” he answered.

He unlocked the cage, and Keith slid to the floor so he could say hello to the little husky that came waltzing over. Pidge was by his side in seconds, and they both cooed at the little fur ball until it was practically shaking with excitement. Just seeing the puppy had made Keith almost forget about Adam’s statement, but now his thoughts swirled with hope.

“Then whose is it?” Keith tried to not sound too optimistic, which was hard when the husky he’d always wanted was standing right in front of him.

Keith looked up at Adam, who was looking at Shiro. After a painful pause, Shiro answered, “Yours.”

Keith wondered if it was possible to die from happiness. “Thank you,” were the only words he managed to form through his haze of oh my god, I own a dog. The next thing that was able to form were tears, but Keith bit them back. He’d always wanted a dog, but he was not going to cry over one.

Okay, so he might have shed a tear or two, but that didn’t matter, because he had a dog, and oh no, what was he going to name it?

Adam broke his train of thought before he could have a slight crisis over it. “Happy birthday,” he said and showed that the clock had passed midnight.

“What…?” Keith pulled out his own phone to check the date, and it was indeed October 23^rd. He pondered how he’d forgotten when his own birthday took place. “And I have to work today?”

“You could bring him along,” Pidge suggested and gestured to the tiny husky who was currently exploring Keith’s apartment.

“Pretty sure that’s fire material.” Even so, Keith seriously considered it.

“And I’m pretty sure she’d let it slide for the birthday boy.”

“Are we talking about the same person?”

“What’re you gonna name him?” Shiro shot in. Keith’s brain felt like scrambled eggs, and he said the first thing he could think of.

“Kosmo.”

“I like it,” Pidge chimed.

Adam picked up Kosmo and brought him over to Keith, who still hadn’t gotten up from the floor. When the little puppy was placed in his lap, his tail wiggled at the speed of light, and Keith knew his tail would’ve done the same if he’d had one.

“Hello, Kosmo,” Keith cooed. Kosmo answered by licking his face, which Keith decided was his way of agreeing with the name.

As Keith made his way to work on his motorcycle, he wished he’d taken the bus.

The night before his evening shift had been living hell. The combination of guilt eating away at Keith’s conscience, a too silent phone, and a needy puppy wasn’t the best to say the least, and by the time his alarm went off, he’d gotten exactly zero minutes of sleep.

The only reason he hadn’t fallen asleep midday and fucked up his sleep schedule further, was Kosmo. But then again, a nap would’ve been optimal, considering Keith would have to stay awake late into the am since his wonderful boss had decided to keep the café open almost all 24 hours during weekends. For whom, Keith wasn’t sure. No one except insomniacs, party goers, and psychopaths would get the idea of going to a café in the middle of the fucking night. But it was good money, and now that Keith had a dog – he was still in disbelief – he’d need the extra paycheck. Even when that extra paycheck might lead to bumping into Charles. Lance. Whatever, Keith was too tired to think about the identity crisis his soulmate was having.

Chapter Text

When Keith walked in the backdoor, Romelle was waiting for him on the couch.

“Sup,” she said with a nod his way. He returned it, hung up his belongings, then slumped down next to her. “How’re you holding up?”

“What do you mean?” Keith asked. He hadn’t told Romelle about his soulmate situation, and he wasn’t about to spill the beans if he didn’t have to.

“Pidge told me.”

“Of course they did,” Keith grumbled and blocked out the rest of the world with an arm thrown over his eyes. “I’m holding up completely fine.”

Keith heard her setting her phone on the table, and he knew he hadn’t been convincing enough. “Is that why your eyes are red?”

Keith looked around the room for a mirror, but the closest thing he could find was the reflection on his helmet. He didn’t have the energy to get up and take a look. “They’re not red.”

Romelle picked up her phone again, entered the camera app and shoved it in his face. Okay, so his eyes were a little red. It was barely noticeable. Which he told her, something she only laughed at.

“Whatever you say, Keith.” Romelle got up and straightened her apron. She grabbed Keith’s hand and forced him up as well, then smiled so brightly it left spots in Keith’s vision. “Happy birthday!”

“Thanks,” Keith said, awkward as ever. But Romelle was used to it, so she kept smiling even as she threw Keith an apron.

Keith pulled it over his head, double-checked that his phone was on silent, then walked out into an explosion of confetti. When he managed to gather himself and stop choking on coloured paper, he zeroed in on Pidge, who was still holding the cannon. Before he could attack them, both Pidge and Romelle started singing. Keith was suddenly aware that they were not alone, and a few of the customers were even singing along. Keith wished he could dig a hole and bury himself there until the world ended.

“Shut up,” Keith practically growled at Pidge when they were close to finished. They laughed at his antics, then handed him the most expensive item on the menu as the rest of the café clapped. Keith felt close to dying, but even so he gave his thanks loud enough for the customers to hear as well.

“I’ve got one more thing for you,” Pidge beamed. Romelle stepped forward then, and Keith noticed the small badge in her hand instantly.

“You’re kidding.” Keith reached out and studied the little plastic piece, where his own name was engrained. It was a perfectly standard, boring nametag that everyone else had and identical to the one Keith had been wearing since he started, but this one had his name on it. It was the cheapest thing you could find on the market, yet just holding it in his hand meant so much to him. All the concerns and objections that had been swirling around Keith’s head disappeared the moment he pinned the badge to his apron. “I thought you said it wasn’t gonna be ready in a few days?”

“Seems our boss grew a conscience,” Pidge said and shook their head.

Someone came up to the register, and Pidge excused themself. Keith and Romelle picked up two brooms and started cleaning up their mess, and it was then it hit Keith that they were one person too many. He could understand needing three people during the busiest days such as Mondays, but on a Friday at eight PM? He turned to Romelle in hopes that she would have answers.

“Someone called in sick – Allura, I think? I don’t know, I’ve never worked with her before – so Pidge took two shifts in a row,” she answered with a shrug. “And then another person couldn’t make it so you had to come in instead, and then I volunteered to work overtime so Pidge could take a longer break in the middle, and… it’s just a big mess.

Oh, and I also somehow got roped into doing another shift at like three AM?” Romelle rubbed her eyes, which wasn’t a good sign for the night she had in front of her. “At least the money’s good.”

“Want me to stay for your second shift?” Keith offered, which was met with a considering grin.

Romelle shook her head. “No, I think it’ll be fine. I heard something about Allura feeling better, so she’s gonna try because she feels bad for us.”

“At three AM?” Keith questioned as he used his eyes to ask Pidge whether they needed help or not. They answered no.

“At three AM,” Romelle confirmed. Keith shuddered at just the thought of staying in the café for that long. Then he also considered the benefits, such as better pay and a smaller chance of bumping into his soulmate. He decided it didn’t sound that bad.

When another customer arrived, Keith did what he’d actually come there to do: work. As he took orders, Pidge and Romelle made the drinks. During the slower parts – which was most of the time – they’d spend their time chatting and drinking an unhealthy amount of coffee to stay awake. Halfway through Keith’s first shift – around eleven – Pidge took their long break. At least an hour passed, and it went by so slowly Keith was sure he was going to combust from boredom. When he voiced that issue, Romelle agreed, then out of nowhere she whipped out a stack of cards. But it wasn’t just any type of cards, it was Uno, and Keith immediately felt a surge of competitiveness.

And so, that was how Keith and Romelle spent their time while there were no customers around – playing Uno and trying to stay civil even when they threw on +4 after +4. When Pidge’s break was finished, they took one look at Keith’s hand that consisted of twenty-five cards or more and sighed.

“That’s my cue,” Romelle said when she spotted Pidge. “Time for my midnight nap.” Romelle stretched as she made her way into the breakroom, where Pidge had already set up a somewhat cosy napping station. Keith wondered how either of them managed to get in any sleep.

“How long has Romelle been here?”

Pidge took the stack of cards Romelle had abandoned and placed a yellow 4. “I don’t know. She’d already been working a while when I got here at four.”

Keith’s eyes felt like they were about to pop out of their sockets for the second time that day. “That’s insane. I’ll take the 3 am shift, she needs to go home.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell her, but she seems obsessed about meeting this Allura girl.” Pidge countered Keith’s +2 with their own, but Keith had another one up his sleeve. He cheered when Pidge had to be the one to draw. “I’ll try again.”

Pidge returned from the breakroom with a triumphant smile. “I’m guessing she agreed?”

“You guessed right.” Pidge slammed a +4 on the stack. Keith took a few deep breaths, then a couple more when the colour changed to one he didn’t have.

“When do I get my long break, then?”

Pidge glanced around the empty café, save from one person who was sipping her coffee by the window. Keith was certain she’d leave soon, though, considering she’d already been there for half an hour. Then, they’d be completely alone and even more bored. Keith guessed it wouldn’t exactly get better as the night wore on.

“I think this whole day – night? – in itself is a long break.”

Keith nodded. He decided his situation would be more bearable if he could manage to zone out the fact that he and Pidge were at work, something he managed successfully until Pidge’s phone rang. He’d been so lost in their Uno game that he almost threw his cards all over the place when the obnoxious ringtone interrupted the calm night.

Pidge excused themself and headed for the breakroom to pick up their phone call, and it was in that moment a group of people decided to show up. Typical.

“Hello, what can I do for you today?” Keith recited. It felt weird on his tongue after nearly two hours straight of only arguing about Uno rules, but it was a welcome and much needed change.

The group conversed between themselves and ended up ordering around ten drinks, something Keith knew he would never be able to do on his own. So, he popped his head into the breakroom, where Pidge was laughing at something whoever they were talking to had said.

“I need your help,” Keith said and pointed over his shoulder.

Pidge covered the microphone with their hand as they said, “Sure, be there in a second.”

A second turned into a minute, and Keith was close to panicking by the time Pidge popped up next to him and started making their share of the order.

“Who were you talking to?” Keith hadn’t meant to ask, but curiosity usually got the best of him.

“My soulmate,” Pidge answered.

Keith knew there was something they weren’t telling him. He could tell by the way Pidge’s hands fumbled with the lids and amount of milk and toppings to put in the different drinks, and their restless eyes were a dead giveaway. But Keith let it go. He was too tired to try to draw the truth out of them. If it was important, they’d tell him. He was sure of it.

Half an hour later, one AM rolled around the corner, which meant that Pidge was packing up their stuff and getting ready to leave. Keith would now have to be alone for at least two hours, and he was not sure how he was going to get through it.

Pidge suggested that he could connect to the speakers and play his ‘wakeup songs’ as they’d called it. So, Keith did just that, but when the first song to play after he’d pressed shuffle was ‘spit it out’, he seriously considered ditching work all together. Instead of fucking up his job, he just skipped the song and went about his duties of cleaning the floor and getting the various machines ready for new customers.

Just as Keith started filling a machine with some fresh coffee beans, the bell above the door rang.

“I’ll be with you in a second,” Keith called over his shoulder. The other person didn’t say a word, so he figured they were content with waiting.

Before turning around, Keith looked at the clock on the wall. 01.22 AM. Roughly one and a half hours to go, then he could take a long break. Only to get back to work and be a corporate slave until six in the morning, but he’d focus on that later. For now, he had an order to take.

“Hello, what can I do for you –” Keith started saying as he turned around, but his voice shrivelled up and died when he saw the person on the other side of the counter.

“Today,” Charles – Lance? For fucks’ sake. “I’d like the sweetest thing on the menu, please.”

Please don’t say me, please don’t say me, please don’t say –

“A hot chocolate, then?” Keith suggested. He was barely able to hold onto his work persona, but he’d rather die than let it slip.

“Sure,” his soulmate – allegedly, thank you very much – said.

“What name would you like on that?”

“Lance.” There was no hesitation this time, and Keith felt an odd tension leave his body. He’d been sure since their previous interaction that Charles was indeed Lance, but hearing the name from ‘Charles’s’ mouth made it feel less like a fever dream and more like a nightmare. Keith couldn’t decide which was better.

Keith didn’t ask whether he wanted a to-go cup, and Lance didn’t mention it. As they took their positions in the corner and behind a machine, Keith refused to let himself even glance in Lance’s direction as he grabbed a to-go cup and started mixing chocolate with warm milk.

A heatwave of sheer nervousness hit Keith. His fight or flight reflexes set in, and all he could do to ground himself was to pretend to be making the hot chocolate for someone else. Someone he had no relation to whatsoever. Who he hadn’t been communicating with ever since he had learnt how to write, someone he hadn’t watched on Twitch and dreamt up a face for, a person he hadn’t hated since the day he walked into the café, and that he was definitely not making it for someone he had abandoned in a parking lot. Nope. In the corner was just another random dude who wanted to get his drink and get out of here.

Keith rolled up his sleeves as the room grew warmer around him. It was almost as if the air could sense the tension, which Keith knew he could probably cut with a knife. He’d maybe even need a chainsaw to get through it.

He regret rolling them up when he saw the bursts of blue on his skin, and even more so when he couldn’t help but read some of the sentences.

Why does your nametag say Robin?

please talk to me

I’ll make sure you’ll never see me again, but please, just talk to me

is Robin really you?

Pidge said you’re fine. I’m sorry if I fucked up this whole thing

text me back

I’m sorry.

Keith’s heart did a few sick moves in his chest, and he let his eyes flicker over to the corner. Lance was watching him intently with his arms resting on the counter. His sleeves were rolled up as well, and right there, scribbled all over his arms, were the same sentences Keith had read on his own skin.

Keith couldn’t find his voice, so he picked up a pen instead. How’d you know I’d be here?

Keith watched as Lance fished out his signature blue marker and started writing his explanation. Pidge told me

Fucking traitor. Keith would deal with them later. It’s almost 2 AM, you should go home and sleep.

What about my hot chocolate?

Keith added the last few details – whipped cream and marshmallows – and placed it in front of Lance. Keith picked up his pen again. There

He spun around and went back to his duties, most of which were finished. But Keith wanted every reason to not look at Lance, so he washed the floor again. He scrubbed at the tables until there were no stains left. He triple checked their inventory. And then, when he remembered the amount of money he was getting paid, he took a five-minute break when he was sure no one else would be coming in for a while.

There, in the breakroom, Keith did his level best to not scream or call Pidge to air out all his frustrations and built-up emotions. It took everything in him to not feel that familiar sting behind his eyes, and he hoped it would all be worth it when he walked out again. That Lance would see Keith for the lost cause he is and leave. That Keith wouldn’t have to deal with the fact that maybe fate made a few good points here and there when it came to soulmates. That maybe Keith had been too hung up on his mom’s fuck ups to see his soulmate. See that his soulmate wasn’t like his mom. That Keith wasn’t like his mom.

Lance wasn’t in the corner when Keith finished his break. In fact, he wasn’t anywhere, and Keith didn’t know whether he felt relieved or disappointed. It wouldn’t make a difference if he was there, Keith told himself. He wouldn’t be able to talk to him either way.

 With that in mind, Keith took his place behind the counter and waited for the new customers that he knew would never come. His playlist was still playing over the speakers, and the fast-paced music made him more angry than awake. He paused it, unpaused it, then considered throwing his phone against the wall.

Instead of doing something rash, he disconnected from the speakers and plugged in his earbuds.

Lance’s voice hit him like a tonne of bricks. While Keith had been driving around the outskirts of the city, Lance had returned to his community, who had been expecting him to stream that day.

Lance didn’t mention Keith. He didn’t play sad songs or take long breaks with no explanation. He just kept strumming his guitar, singing, taking recommendations, and entertaining. There were only a few moments where Lance would take a couple of minutes, and it was in those moments Keith came to realise how much he dreaded not hearing his voice and seeing his skin. His skin, which he hadn’t bothered to cover up even though it told the story of how Keith had ignored him for years. His skin, that proudly displayed the marks and drawings Keith would make. His skin, which was both then, in the stream, and now, in the café, covered in Lance’s desperate attempts to get Keith to listen.

Lance’s skin, which Keith wanted to touch more than anything else in the world.

Keith ripped out his earbuds and let them fall to the ground. He braced himself on the counter as he tried to steady his breathing, because what the fuck? He’d never been interested in his soulmate. He’d never cared. But now, all he wanted was for Lance to come back. He wanted Lance to either kiss him or punch him or at least just touch him, because Keith knew that would make everything feel alright again.

He didn’t want Lance to leave him alone. He didn’t want him to treat Keith the same way he’d treated him, even though he knew he deserved it. He didn’t want them to end up like his parents.

Keith pushed away from the counter and bit his lip as he tried to think of what to do next. He needed to apologise. He needed to see Lance and tell him… what? Keith decided he’d know when the moment came.

He grabbed his phone and found Lance’s number, only hesitating for a brief second before pressing call.

A ringtone that wasn’t Keith’s filled the room. It stopped as soon as it came, and then Lance’s voice echoed from real life to Keith’s phone. His head snapped up to the bathroom door, where Lance stood. It was not the first time Keith felt ecstatic to see him smile.

“Hi,” Keith managed.

“Hi,” Lance mirrored.

Keith managed to remember to hang up, then tried to think of what to do with his hands. He ended up leaning against the counter again as he looked at anything that wasn’t Lance. He searched his mind for what he’d planned on saying to Lance if he’d picked up, and the only words he could find didn’t even begin to describe what he truly wanted to say.

He said them anyway. “I’m sorry.” He’d anticipated that those words would unclog his throat, but they did nothing. He just stood there and waited for Lance to say something, and when he didn’t, Keith couldn’t stand staying quiet any longer. “I’m a coward.”

Lance crossed his arms over his chest. Then, as he got closer, Keith swallowed the lump in his throat.

“That’s it?” Lance asked with an arched eyebrow. Keith shrugged. Lance scoffed. Keith wished he’d never called. “You know, Keith, I’m getting tired of this. I’m not dangerous, you can say whatever you want. I won’t bite.”

Keith hoped the words would come to him naturally, that he’d know exactly what to say. Because he knew what he wanted. But apparently his tongue didn’t. All he could manage was a weak “I – I don’t…”

Lance sighed, and Keith hated how his breath shuddered along with it. “Hey, Keith?” he said, and his voice wasn’t cold like Keith had been expecting. “Look at me?”

He forced himself to stop staring at his white knuckles. Lance’s eyes were a deep ocean blue, and his face was everything he’d ever wanted BluePaladin’s to be and more. Keith got the sudden urge to go swimming, something he’d never been a huge fan of. Somehow, it just made sense to Keith that Lance would love swimming, and he wanted to go with him. No matter the coarse sand that got everywhere. Maybe Keith would even enjoy tanning if Lance was there with him.

“Don’t leave me alone,” Keith blurted. Lance looked pleasantly surprised, which spurred him on. “We’re soulmates, I’ve just been scared and stupid. You don’t disappoint me. At all.”

All their conversations together swam in broken streams through Keith’s head as he tried to piece together something coherent, but all he could think about was how much he wanted to jump across the counter and just… be closer.

Keith got an inkling of what he wanted when Lance grabbed his hand. His fingers rubbed circles on Keith’s palm, and his heart sped up enough to make him worried.

Lance smiled, then it changed to a frown, and Keith gripped his hand harder. “What’s your real name?”

“Keith,” he said and pointed to the new nametag on his apron.

Lance reached across the counter to study it. “I could’ve sworn it said Robin.”

Keith didn’t know whether he laughed or sobbed, but he decided he would pretend it didn’t happen either way. “It did. My boss is cheap as fuck,” Keith explained, which smoothed out the crease between Lance’s eyebrows. Keith wanted to touch it. He shook the urge off.

“Okay,” Lance breathed. He kept his gaze firmly placed on their intertwined hands, and usually, Keith would’ve felt awkward and wanted to run away. Now he just wanted to stay there all night. Or at least until his shift finally ended.

The silence was broken by Lance breaking into a giggling mess, and Keith was so tired he couldn’t help but follow his lead without knowing what they were laughing about.

Lance straightened and tried to stay serious as he made his way around the counter without ever letting go of Keith’s hand, but by the time they stood face to face, they were both laughing hard enough to cry.

Their eyes met again. Keith stumbled backwards at the force of Lance’s hug, but he pushed back once he regained his footing.

With his face buried in Keith’s shoulder, Lance said, “I can’t believe you were here the whole time.”

With a shock, Keith remembered their third time meeting in the café. Keith pulled back enough to glare at Lance, who looked terrified. “You tried to flirt with me.”

“Tried?” Lance exclaimed with a shocked gasp. “I succeeded, thank you.”

“What’s a guy like you doing in a place like this,” Keith mocked. He didn’t stop the smile that came along with the memory.

“I work here.” Lance’s grin, Keith found, was even more blinding up close.

“Shut up,” Keith grumbled and pressed his face against Lance’s shoulder, mostly to hide his rapidly spreading blush.

Lance laughed and pulled Keith in closer.

Chapter Text

Two weeks and three days later – he was not counting – Keith had yet to kiss his soulmate for the first time.

He’d told Lance he wanted to take things slow. They were basically strangers, after all. No number of years of communicating through their soulmate link could convince Keith otherwise, even when he found himself drawing flowers on his hand to pass the time during slow workdays, or when the first one he would text when anything happened was Lance. It didn’t mean anything, he was just… taking an interest in his almost boyfriend.

It hit Keith, though, that two week and three days later, that they really didn’t share anything about their private lives. As he watched Lance’s live stream, he couldn’t help but wonder what the rest of his apartment looked like, or if he’d ever be invited over. Maybe Keith should invite Lance over.

I have a dog, Keith texted Lance on a spur. He’d expected it, but no sound came from the stream. Still, he was left feeling disgruntled.

Keith had been the one to say they should take it slow, so why did it bother him so much that he didn’t even know what general area Lance lived in? It was close to the gym Keith favoured, that much he knew. But it wasn’t enough.

Do you wanna meet him? Keith added, then tossed away his phone before he could regret it.

An hour later, as the Lance on Keith’s screen was wrapping up the stream, his phone notified him of a new text.

You have a dog?? Keith smiled at the enthusiasm. Another text popped up. When, where??? I’m free rn

Keith searched for his go-to park which was a five-minute walk from his apartment. He sent Lance the location along with a timer of twenty minutes. Don’t be late

Kosmo sat on the ground next to Keith’s feet and looked up at him as if he was stupid. Keith pondered whether his dog was somehow telepathic or not, because he did, in fact, feel stupid. It was stupid to invite his soulmate – almost boyfriend – to meet at a park five minutes from his apartment. It was stupid to hope it would rain and that they’d be forced to go back to Keith’s. And most of all, it was stupid to use his dog as an excuse.

Keith checked the time. Three minutes until the twenty minutes would be up. There was no turning back now.

Except maybe there was, because the next time Keith glanced down, his phone read a minute past twenty, and Lance wasn’t there. Keith shook the worry off. He was overreacting. Lance would be there.

Ten minutes later, and Keith was starting to panic. Had he sent the wrong coordinates? Was Lance currently running around a park on the other side of the city, looking for a Keith that wasn’t there?

He checked the message he’d sent. He’d sent the right place.

Where are you? Keith wrote, then deleted it. He tried again, but nothing felt right, and in the end, he just sent a question mark.

Keith counted the seconds as they ticked by. No answer from Lance, and Kosmo was starting to get impatient. He sighed and patted Kosmo’s head as he stood up and searched the park for any sign of Lance. There was no flash of tan skin or a lanky frame, so he decided it was time to give up.

Up until that point, Keith had been mostly excitedly nervous and on the verge of panic. As he made his way through the park in the direction of his apartment, the feeling in his veins slowly shifted to anger. Why hadn’t Lance showed up? He had seemed so eager, and during the time they’d known each other – AKA their whole lives – Lance had always been enthusiastic and the one to start conversations. Their short time spent face to face thus far hadn’t been any different, and Keith thought Lance would come running when he was the one to instigate something.

To get his mind off the matter before he could act on his anger, Keith fished out his earbuds. He pressed the first song that popped up on his favourite playlist, and he breathed a sigh of relief when his thoughts were interrupted by a familiar tune.

Keith focused on Kosmo as they walked towards one of the many exits, reigning him in in certain places and situations to teach him what Shiro liked to call manners. Apparently, he’d spent a fair share of time watching videos on how to raise a puppy, and he’d even gone as far as giving Keith a complete manual on the topic. Keith wasn’t sure if Shiro had written it himself, but he wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case. The manual had turned out to be incredibly useful though, and Keith no longer had to worry too much about Kosmo around other dogs and humans.

Then the strangest thing happened, and it happened to fast Keith couldn’t even think before he’d elbowed someone in the stomach.

Keith ripped out his earbuds and spun around to look at whoever he’d punched, who was currently doubled over with one hand clutching his stomach while the other was still on Keith’s shoulder. Keith recognised the brown hair and broad set of shoulders immediately.

“You really don’t pull your punches,” Lance said through gritted teeth. He managed to straighten up, only to get back down to meet Kosmo.

“You’re late,” Keith deadpanned. He supposed he should be apologising for elbowing Lance, but he was feeling particularly petty.

“I am?” Lance pulled out his phone, only to find it dead. He smiled carefully up at Keith, who couldn’t help but soften at the look in his eyes.

Keith got on his knees next to Kosmo. “Kosmo, meet Lance,” he said and urged Kosmo forward. His initial hesitation broke away after his first sniff of Lance’s hand, and Keith laughed as his tail sped up. Lance had to hold Kosmo down as he tried to jump up and lick his face. “Lance, meet Kosmo.”

“Kosmo?” Lance asked with a brilliant smile. Kosmo’s tail, to Keith’s disbelief, went even faster, which made Lance fuss over him even more.

Keith got back to his feet and watched their interaction with a smile on his face while all the mixed emotions that had bubbled up inside him were forgotten. And then the same hope for rain resurged, and Keith marvelled at the sky as a drop fell onto his face. Maybe fate really was on his side.

Lance didn’t seem as happy. “Rain? Really?” he cursed at the sky.

This is my chance. “I live, like, five minutes from here,” Keith stated and pointed over his shoulder. “If you wanna, you know…” he trailed off as he waved his hand in the air. Realisation dawned on Lance.

“Yeah, that would – yeah.”

Kosmo barrelled into Keith’s apartment, his fur wet and his paws dirty. Keith knew he was never going to get the smell out of his couch, where Kosmo was currently displaying his stomach. Lance laughed as he entered behind him, then he stepped out of his shoes and admired the tiny living room. It was then that it Keith that holy shit, Lance was in his apartment.

Keith hung his soaking wet jacket on the coat rack along with Kosmo’s leash. He’d been the one who wanted the rain to fall, but he hadn’t wished for an ocean. He made a mental note of asking Lance if he’d walked or taken some sort of transportation, then he followed Lance into the kitchen.

“Why is your kitchen so…” Lance looked around at the empty countertops and the grey light streaming in from the window as he searched for the right word. “depressing.”

“It’s not depressing,” Keith insisted, but he couldn’t help but think that Lance was probably right. “It’s just empty.”

“Yeah, which is depressing.”

Lance leaned against the counter as Keith opened the fridge to look for something to make his situation seem less depressing. He closed it when he found it empty except for a carton of milk and a few boxes of leftovers Shiro had forced on him.

Keith turned to the cabinet he’d stashed full of tea and pulled out a few of his favourites. Lance nodded to the sweetest one, of course. Keith didn’t know how he could ever have expected anything else.

As he waited for the water to boil, Keith checked on Kosmo. Lance followed closely as Keith made his way to the bathroom, where Kosmo dutifully sprinted for the shower. Keith felt Lance’s eyes on him as he praised Kosmo for doing as he’d been taught, then hesitated before doing his own routine of shedding the shirt. It was either soak his shirt further or be shirtless in front of Lance. The latter sounded infinitely better, even as Keith’s heartbeat picked up and his cheeks flushed.

Lance cleared his throat, and Keith turned around to see him staring at the wall. “I’ll go check on the – the, uh… water!”

“Right,” Keith stuttered.

Keith set to work. Cleaning Kosmo was usually frustrating, but in that moment, it was a welcome break from whatever he was feeling. Nervous? Scared? Furious?

But then, as he patted Kosmo down and dried his fur as much as possible, he allowed himself to think about what to do next. Should he jump into it and make the first move? Was kissing Lance too much or just enough? Should he let it play out by itself and wait until the day their slow phase naturally faded? He supposed that would be the comfortable option for himself, but he also supposed that meant they might never kiss. Especially if things continued at the same pace.

“Fuck it,” Keith murmured and opened the door to let Kosmo go. Keith stayed in the bathroom and stared at his reflection, which consisted of red cheeks and a blush that spread down to his chest. He pulled on a dry sweater and took one last look in the mirror before he pushed away the doubts.

Lance was sipping his tea in the living room. He stood and studied the different decorations Keith had accumulated over the years, and he could see Lance’s eyes drifting back time and time again to a photograph of Keith and Shiro. Keith was sitting on his current motorcycle with a huge smile on his face, while Shiro was holding the phone with a peace sign thrown up.

“Who’s this?” Lance asked and pointed to the picture.

“My brother, Shiro.”

Lance hummed and kept sipping his tea. He offered Keith a mug he’d been holding in his other hand, and Keith accepted it only to set it down on the coffee table in front of his couch.

“Lance?” Lance looked over at him, then frowned at the abandoned tea.

“What’s wrong?” he inquired and put his own mug down next to Keith’s.

Keith smiled. “Nothing.”

He started slow with the somewhat familiar yet oddly terrifying sensation of lacing their fingers together. Lance’s eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t pull back or question it. Actually, he did quite the opposite. He stepped closer with a grin on his face, and Keith had to take a deep breath to stop himself from reacting rashly due to his nerves.

Keith laughed, then covered his mouth. Why had he done that? He dragged his hand down his face as he tried to find the same courage he’d held in his palm seconds earlier. The palm that still held Lance’s hand.

He took a shaky breath and met Lance’s eyes. Their ocean blue made him want to jump right into it. So, he did.

“Can I –”

Keith didn’t get to finish his sentence before Lance’s lips came crashing down onto his own. It was like fire. Keith was mesmerised and terrified and utterly in awe. He’d kissed plenty of people before, but this, this was different. In that moment, it finally dawned on Keith that Lance was his soulmate. They’d always been destined to end up next to each other, and Keith entertained – for the thousandth time since meeting Lance – the thought that fate might not be as bad as he’d thought.

The kiss and their intimacy were everything, and yet Lance had more to give. The kiss deepened, and Keith was sure he was going to drown in the feeling. He wouldn’t mind if he did.

Lance’s hands left Keith’s and made their way towards his waist, where he pulled Keith impossibly closer. Lance smiled into the kiss, and Keith returned it tenfold, which ended up breaking them apart.

Lance wrapped Keith up in a hug and muttered, “Finally.”

Keith felt high, and he laughed at Lance’s breathless voice. “Finally?” He echoed, which Lance answered with a nod. “It’s only been two weeks.”

Lance leaned back and arched an eyebrow. “Only two weeks? It’s been over twenty years, Keith!”

Keith leaned back as well and crossed his arms over his chest. Lance held onto his waist, and Keith let him carry his weight as he eyed him curiously.

“Are you trying to tell me you’ve been waiting for this since you were, what, two?”

“I have,” Lance said with a straight face. Keith waited for him to break, and then they’d laugh about the absurdity of his statement. He didn’t break.

“You’re serious?”

“As serious as Snape,” Lance confirmed.

A stunned laugh escaped Keith. Lance frowned at him with a gentle smile and a blush high on his cheeks. Keith leaned back into his chest to hide his face as he whispered “I’m gonna bully you forever.”

Keith felt Lance’s smile more than he saw it. “Is that a promise?”

He hummed and went in for another kiss. Lance met him halfway.