Chapter Text
4 years, 10 months, 2 days
Ugh, my head .
Everything felt heavy and sore as Lance tried to plead with his hungover body to work with him just a little bit. His eyes were only opened a crack before he had to give up and shut them again. They felt like iron chains were holding them down, tying him deeply into the world of dreams. Which was arguably not the worst decision to make at this level of hungover. So, instead of waking up and peeling himself out of bed to get a Tylenol and enough water to flood the Sahara desert, Lance tried to roll over and surrender to the blissful blackness of sleep once more.
Until he rolled, that is, and before he can register the warm weight on his waist, he is crashing face first into what feels like a very sturdy chest. It’s no cause for alarm, really, he probably just hooked up with someone last night at the wedding—
Wait.
Fuck. Shiro’s wedding.
It all comes back at once, but in pieces. Keith asking Lance to go with him to the wedding together , picking out suits together with Shiro, Keith bringing him flowers when picking him up, then smiling at him during Shiro’s vows to hold his new husband through war and peace, sky and sea, until the end of days . Everything gets really fuzzy around Lance’s speech, probably because of the insane amount of liquid courage he felt he needed to make it at the time. And then it’s just flashes; dancing, kissing on the dance floor, making out in an elevator, taking suits off in the room and—
Oh no, Lance, you finally did it, the voice of reason he drowned with liquor last night - who sounded too much like Pidge - finally hitting air. You finally broke your vow and slept with Keith.
Lance wanted to deny that stupid, arrogant voice laughing at him in the back of his mind, but he logistically can’t. He can’t make out a face from those last memories of kissing and fucking, other than it was one of the best lays he has had ever , so there is only one thing left to do. Lance has to open his eyes to check.
Fuck. Keith is right there , gorgeous as ever, dark hair messy from sleep and looking the most peaceful Lance has possibly ever seen him. He's the most beautiful thing Lance has ever seen, just laying there, asleep on his side.
Fuck, okay, maybe I did sleep with Keith. But now how do I get the hell out of here?!
Lance huffs, without realizing it until it is too late, air blowing against one of the few Galra-purple patches on Keith’s chest surrounding an old scar, and freezes as soon his brain can catch up to what he just did. In an instant, Keith is moving -- still asleep, luckily -- and throwing his arm around Lance's waist and pulling the other former pilot of the Red Lion closer into his chest.
Fuck, shit, quiznak.
Not good. Not good. He needs to get out of here . Lance almost never hooks up with people, never lets them spend the night, never stays the night himself, and now he's doomed. He's broken all three of his rules in one night.
- DO NOT HOOK UP WITH ANYONE (ESPECIALLY WHILE DRUNK).
- If you do hook up with someone, DON'T HOOK UP WITH KEITH. THE WORST THING YOU COULD POSSIBLY DO IS HOOK UP WITH KEITH.
- Never spend the night. If this rule is abandoned, leave quickly and quietly. Do not look back, do not call back. Play dead.
Fuckkkkk , Lance can't help but whine to himself. Doing the walk of shame out of Keith's room in the early morning hours after Shiro’s wedding was not what he had intended to sign up for, but that was a worry for the future. It became priority two quickly, because the first problem would be escaping a very tired, very cuddly Keith's death grip. Easy way or the hard way?
The easy way would surely hurt like a bitch, but as they say, ‘in for a penny, in for a pound’.
“Keith,” Lance whispered, pulling away just the slightest. Keith shifted, trying to pull him back, but Lance let out a more insistent echo of his name.
“L’nce? Wha’ time is it?” Kieth’s eyes start to open, blearily and full of determined effort. As soon as they’re open and fixed on Lance, he can't help but notice the unashamed smile spreading across the tired features. “Hey there, sweetheart.”
“I don't know what time it is, but I've gotta pee. Lemme go,” Lance all but whines, pulling back a little more.
“Okay, okay,” Keith yawned, flashing him a small smile, pulling away the arm that had been vice gripping Lance in place just moments before. “Just come back.”
“Okay.” Lance is peeling off the covers quickly, shooting one last longing glance at the dark head of hair turning away and resting peacefully back onto the pillow, Keith's words forgotten immediately as he forms his exit plan.
The cold tile of the bathroom stings in stark contrast to the soft carpet, jolting Lance more awake as he tried not to slam the door behind him.
What have I done? Kept playing on a constant feedback loop in his mind, his gaze catching at the disheveled reflection facing him in the mirror.
It had been just under five years since Allura passed, leaving behind a massive hole that Lance couldn’t pry his soul out of, and the evidence of that time passing was etched into the growing lines around his eyes and the corners of his mouth. It was... hard to look at, still. Lance doubted it would ever get easier, having a permanent mark from Allura's love staring back at him every time he looked at his reflection.
Not looking at himself, ever, had proven easier for years, up until this point, but here in a hotel bathroom, naked as the day he was born, Lance couldn't pull his eyes off his reflection.
The soft blue Altean marks laying high on his cheekbones were promptly passed over to stare at the long line of fresh, maroon bruises dotting down neck, into his chest, ending just at the v in his hips. Memories from the night before flashed through his mind, sweat slick skin and crooked, sharp teeth lingering on his skin long enough to leave the bruises that had felt like heaven in the moment, but were the first coming of Hell as he looked at them now.
Fucking thorough job, Mullet, Lance cursed internally as he went through the mental gymnastics of trying to figure out even attempting to cover his neck and only his neck, regarding the rest as too much evidence to hide. And boy, there was a lot of evidence of his transgressions littered on his skin. The pathway of maroon led down to crimson scratches, up to bitten-raw lips, and Lance’s mind would not let up as he stared at his reflection, panic pulling him in all directions as he relived every bruise on his skin, squirming as he thought about everything that happened.
“Lemme take care of you,” Keith whispered in between kisses, knelt in front of Lance on the bed, his violet eyes blown wide, a soft yellow glow coming from them.
“Nobody ever wants to take care of me,” Lance giggled, feeling the shots he’d taken on their way out hit his stomach, warmth spreading from his core out toward his fingertips.
“I do,” Keith promised, leaning down to capture Lance’s lips in the softest kiss he could imagine. “I always wanted to.”
Shaking his head if nothing more than to forcibly remove that thought from his brain, Lance caught his own eyes once more, unhappy to see tears already welling up in them.
Pinpoint the emotions, break them down, the voice of his therapist, Hailey, rang through his mind, and Lance turned on the tap to splash his face with cool water, praying for it to break his train of thought.
Guilty. I feel guilty, the smaller, sadder version of Lance who lived in his mind croaked out.
Why do you feel guilty, Lance? the voice continued to probe. What about this do you think you've done wrong?
If I go back in there, I'll break. I won't be able to hide anymore. I’d have to tell him the truth.
What are you hiding from? What are you running from this time?
Love, Lance shook his head pitifully. I love him.
“This is going to end me,” Lance whispered to himself, hands gripping tight onto the cool edge of the white porcelain sink. “And no one deserves to be around to see that when it happens. I have to go now.”
The resolve in his tone hurt even his own ears, but Lance knew he was no where near the mental state to even start to deal with this mess he’d created. Looking into his own eyes, seeing the bright blue illuminated closer to a bright beach foam rather than stormy, murky blue, Lance gave himself a resolute nod. Get his clothes, get them on, get the fuck out. Quick mission. It'd been a long time since he could say he had one.
There's no good way to run away from Keith, another part of Lance called out in his mind, the kid who felt desperate to prove himself as he put on his uniform for the first time. He’s not going to let you. You should know that by now.
There is no good way to run away from anything, Lance countered against his own inner angsty teenager. Keith doesn't need or want to deal with my messes. This isn’t his problem.
Now, you sound like him. You'd want him to let you help, the younger Lance shot back, and Lance could feel his better judgment rolling his eyes and crossing his arms at the whole train of thought.
I don't want to have this conversation, was all Lance could think about as he shut the light off, plunging the bathroom into darkness as he gripped the doornob tightly. The sweat building on his palms felt like another barrier, another way life was screaming at him to stop moving for a minute and to breathe.
Luckily for Lance, he'd long given up on listening to the little voices inside his head that told him all of the reasons he should quit while he was ahead. If reasonable rational thinking were going to win the day, he'd have long crawled back into bed with Keith, snuggling back in for a few minutes of peace instead of ignoring the looming conversation that would need to be had.
Because they had to talk about what happened. Lance knew that. Keith was a softie under all the My Chemical Romance music and angst, and Lance wasn't ready to be anything other than a sharp edge. All he could do right now was hurt, and if anyone deserved better than that from him , it was fucking Keith.
That was why running was the only option he had left. Lance was well aware he'd backed himself into a corner and was preparing to run like his life depended on it, but what other option was there? The walls he had spent five years building had always been precarious around Keith, as if one set of violet eyes and a fanged smile flashed his way would be enough to send him headed back to square one.
Lance remembered what square one was like, right after losing Allura. Leaving the states and moving back to Cuba, when seeing the nibblings every day was the only thing that got him out of bed every day for that first year. Therapy had been a wash until he'd found the angel he'd been seeing for the last two years.
He couldn’t go back to living like that. Not again.
Hand gripped tight on the doornob, Lance forced himself to turn it and pull himself out of the literal darkness of his bathroom, and into the warm early morning sunlight streaking across the majority of the hotel room. He could tell immediately that the room was Keith’s, not his, at just the sheer size of it. Shiro had talked about paying for Keith’s room when the planning began, no short of mentions to spoil his little brother, and Shiro had really come through.
The room was massive, with floor to ceiling windows that gave a fantastic view of the city waking up beneath them. Plush, mustard yellow carpets, dark red walls, green throw pillows, purple curtains, color surrounded them on all sides, drawing Lance’s eyes to the massive white bed, and the man snuggled inside it.
Keith’s dark blue suit jacket was slung across the headboard post, hanging haphazardly where Lance had tossed the night before. The former red paladin looked down at the man he’d trusted enough to put his life on the line for, to follow into battle, and sighed heavily at his own cowardice. Keith, and his mullet, didn’t deserve this.
Unfortunately for both of them, this, Lance running away from his feelings, was not a new phenomenon. It’d been his new calling card, even, since they’d been allowed to retire back on Earth. It was worse home in Cuba, where the drinks were cheap and the women at least knew of his reputation. Hunk probably knew, if the way he’d give Lance a sideways glance every once in a while when he’d visit was anything to go by. Lance wasn’t exactly visiting often either. Cube hurt too much most days.
He had run, found a planet to hide himself on to deal with his pain on his own. Now, it was time to go back. He had made enough mistakes at the bottom of the bottle last night that the only option was to cut it off.
It was too hard to stop running, even now. Some days, it felt like a fresh open wound, and not the scar he’d hoped the pain would have faded into. It felt like Allura was everywhere, especially when he would take the first few steps out of his front door every morning to see the blooming field of Junipberry flowers he couldn’t stop himself from planting, year after year.
Casting one last pensive glance at Keith’s sleeping form curled up on the bed, Lance wished more than anything he could force himself to crawl back into bed and accept the fact that something needed to change about the way his life had been going. Nadia and Sylvio were always asking about ‘Tio Keith’, and as much as he wanted to bring Keith home, finally, as his own, he wasn't ready.
He wasn't sure if he ever could be, not with the ghost of Allura constantly over his shoulder.
Not that everyone wasn't disappointed in him for it enough already. Mamá had been lecturing him for months about how he needed to make a decision about Keith. Now, Lance didn’t want to go home and face her either.
Mind racing, Lance pulled on his clothes as quietly as he could. It was time to get off planet, even if he hated himself for it. A scrawled note telling Keith that Lance needed to leave, and that he was sorry was all that was left behind. Before the sun had fully crossed over the horizon, Lance had emptied out his own hotel room and taken off toward the nearest warp point in solar system. Jupiter was three varga journey in his borrowed transporter, and after his jump, Lance would be in space one more varga before he was back home.
It was a pit stop kind of planet, one major space port being the main economy for the island that inhabited the planet. Most of the surface of the planet was water, and though it was a vibrant shade of purple instead of blue, Lance wanted nothing more than to go home and sit by the waves. His home was an hour outside of the port up the northern coast, and he could not get there soon enough.
Lance did not turn on his coms until he was ten doboshes outside of Jupiter. Keith’s call just a few minutes after the line made Lance’s heart jump out of his chest as he answered it, hiding his face in his hands. His fingers were curled into his bangs, pulling at the roots hard enough to feel his heartbeat against his skin.
“You at the warp point?” Keith’s voice rang out in a sigh from the speaker in the cockpit. Lance nodded.
“Just about.”
His words came out like a croak, half repressed sob and half mind-numbing disappointment in himself.
“Are you going to turn around?”
Keith sounded hurt, words clipped but no less cold.
Lance shook his head, unable to breathe, to look up at Keith. They sat in silence, static from the mid-range coms crackling through the air as Lance tried to force his static lungs to heavy. He felt frozen, almost paralyzed by how hurt he knew Keith would be, and how much his own hurt was drowning him.
“I’m getting on the damned ship,” Keith grumbled. Lance could hear him shuffling around, no doubt throwing things into a go bag to leave. “I’m three varga behind you. I swear to god, Lance, we are fucking talking. I can’t do this, and I’m coming to you so I can figure this the fuck out. I don’t undertsand-”
“Don’t.”
Lance felt his composure break as he looked up, salt water finally freeing itself from the confines of his heart and his eyes. Keith stopped moving, face frozen as he looked at Lance through the coms.
“What?” Keith choked out.
“Don’t come.” Lance told Keth through his wobbling lip. Keith took a step back, shocked gasp coming through on his mic. Lance had never told him not to come before. There were times when Keith would demand a visit, and Lance would be so far into his own mind he’d forget he was supposed to pick Keith up at the port. But he had never said no before.
“Why?” Keith asked, furiously blinking back tears as Lance felt his heart twist in his chest.
“I don’t want to do this.” Lance cried, burning in his chest threatening to take over his existence. He didn’t know how to explain the ever consuming feeling of wrong and how it felt like it was about to swallow him whole. All Lance knew in this moment was that he needed to go. “I don’ wanna do this. Not again. Please.”
Keith’s face crumbled.
“Get back safe.” Keith rushed out quickly, eyes growing wide in alarm before the call cut from his end.
The shadow of Jupiter made the ship feel cold as Lance prepped for his jump, sending shivers down his aching body as he fought wracking sobs and trembling hands. He just needed to make it home. Everything would be okay once he was home again.