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Lance is sitting on top of what looked like a shelf but… not really. It was more a conveniently pushed forwards wall that, if you hopped on it, could work as a perfectly comfortable seat.
Not only that, but it was basically placed against the castle's protective glass, making it cool enough for Lance to press his forehead on it and sigh in relief as he looked at the stars; the soft beeping and the sound of the ship's machinery lulling his longing into something that felt more like a far away sting.
"I used to sit here too when I was younger."
A soft voice wakes Lance up from that dizzy trance, his head slowly turning towards a little smile, barely lit up by the delicate pink glow the two altean marks emanated from the Princess' cheeks.
Lance hums. "It's a good spot."
"Mind if I join you?" Allura asks, already stepping towards the wall, her head curiously tilted.
"It was your spot first," Lance gestures dramatically to the spot in front of him. "You may take your rightful place, if you grant me this one."
"Technically, I always sat where you are now. But I don't mind.”
"The ever so graceful and merciful, Princess of Altea."
He makes a mock bow, a hand on his chest.
Allura rolled her eyes, but the crinkle and fondness rooted deep in them gave her away. She hops in front of Lance, mindful of her gown, and lets out a soft breath.
They stay in silence for a while, comfortable, yes, but something about it made Lance aware that it would be short lived.
"I used to come here to gather my thoughts or when balls took a turn I wasn't... agreeable of."
Lance sighs through his nose, closing his eyes. There it was.
"You slithered away after our meeting," Allura continues, her gaze far away, as far as the stars that surrounded them. "I'm no Hunk, but I'd like to believe we've gotten closer as time passed. You've helped me out a lot when I was lacking self-confidence."
Finally, Allura turns her head towards Lance, serious and intense as she was when ordering them around, but there was something soft around the edges. It wasn't authority this time, but friendship.
"I'd like to do the same for you too, if you'd let me."
The Red Paladin licks his lips, suddenly tense: he's hyper aware of his own skin, every muscle in him scrunched up as if begging to jump out.
He's not used to this, not used to talking about it, not to anyone – but he's tired, so tired. He's tired and heartbroken and he has a feeling that under that genuine concern the Princess is showing him, there's a veil of knowledge.
He drops his shoulders, resigned. He puts his entire side-weight on the glass, cooling himself off in preparation. Allura seems to notice this, so she waits, ever so patient.
"It's dumb. It's dumb, inconsequential feeling stuff that shouldn't be a problem right now in the middle of war – we almost lost the Castle and we're going home. This," he waves his hand around, signaling at his entire self, "isn't important. Just let me mope it over. Sometimes I deserve some brooding space too.”
“I am aware," the Blue Paladin says, slowly, "and I have given you enough time to brood-”
Lance opens his mouth but a single, perfectly arched, white eyebrow makes his lips practically glue themselves together on instinct, “- not only at this moment, but ever since…”
She stops.
Aaand the veil is gone. Allura knows exactly what's going on, yet she at least has enough pity not to say it out loud. Thank God for that, as Lance finds it extremely shaming.
“Yeah,” he whispers, “ever since.”
A brief moment of silence goes by once more; the castle’s noises suddenly too loud in Lance's ears, no longer giving him the same solace as before.
He's tired. So, he opens up.
“Y'know, there's this saying on Earth – mamá used to say it to me all the time back when my big sister moved away because of the Garrison.”
“The school you guys were part of,” Allura makes sure. Lance nods.
“Yeah. We had dorms there so we had to stay away from home if not for breaks.
I wasn't used to being so far from anyone in my family, so when Vero went away I was so afraid she'd simply forget about us, about me. But mamà always said that distance makes the heart grow fonder .”
Allura seems to ponder on the saying, leaning back. All her attention is on Lance, although her eyes are distant.
“But I guess that's kind of a lie or that, maybe, it's not that way for everyone. I mean, it was true for me, but maybe for some people it has the opposite effect, y'know?”
Lance's eyes start to sting so he looks away, back at the neverending sky. The flood had opened and he couldn't stop.
“Maybe for some people, distance just makes the annoyance more prominent, clearer. Maybe some hearts grow bitter instead of fond.
Maybe they go away for a while and start thinking, they start growing, and they realize that it was all too much. That the fondness they used to feel was just consequential.”
He squeezes his eyes tight because he, at least, has enough self respect to not allow himself to cry. Not for this. Not for him. No matter how hard his heart aches, begs him to.
“Maybe the distance made him realize that I have done nothing more than beg him like an idiot to look at me, creating a false narrative just for him to notice me. Doing my best so that we could stand together, side by side – and maybe once I got that, I got too obvious, too comfortable. He got enough time to notice and realized that dealing with me for all infinity wasn't it.”
His hands were moving on his own, scratching and scratching on the back of his hand with nervousness. He can still hear it loud and clear, the tone that phrase was stated with.
“I got desperate – or I guess I always was?” He lets out an incredulous laugh, “for years, I just wanted him to see me. I did everything to make him see me and I thought – I really thought he finally did but–”
A gentle touch makes him choke on a gasp. He turns down to see Allura's hand on his, hence stopping his agitated fretting. She moves her thumb on his knuckles, tender in its support.
Lance lets himself bask in the small contact, surprisingly making him stop for a second and just – breathe.
“I got too hopeful,” he murmurs, suddenly exhausted, “that's my bad. It wasn't anything more than it always was, even back then when we were students: me running after him and him just getting farther out of reach. I got a grade A+ humbling and walked away with honours – nothing unusual really, it was weird that it took this long for it to happen. I'll be–”
“Not fine,” Allura finishes for him. Lance's eyes widen a bit, the shininess in them sparkling in the dim lighted room. “You're not fine. You're allowed to be not fine.”
She takes both his hands in hers, scooching closer so their knees touch. She looks at him like she understands , and he feels like an asshole for not remembering that she actually does. He helped her through the same feeling, after all, not some time ago.
“But you are more than that, you're strong enough to keep fighting – both literally and not – whilst still being yourself and being there for others. Never forget that, Lance.”
Something in the instinctual grimace in his face must've told the Princess he didn't agree with the sentiment, so she moved one of her hands to cup his cheek.
“I mean it,” her face is tight, solemn in what she's trying to convey, like she won't expect a no as an answer. “You love so much and that's a privilege . Through it all, you love and you nurture. Never think for a moment that that isn't a show of strength.”
Allura gets closer and for a fleeting moment Lance kind of wishes that the small infatuation he felt for her when he first saw her was stronger. truer. He wishes he could feel his stomach turn upside down and his hands starting to get clammy – but none of it happens.
Because he tried to make it her, but it couldn't be.
“Anyone who allows themselves to be loved by you will be fortunate,” she continues with full conviction, “and anyone who doesn't is, frankly, an airhead idiot who deserves a little humbling himself .”
Lance chuckles slightly.
“Careful there, he's still our leader.”
“That doesn't excuse him from an ass kicking,” Lance chokes at her choice of words, “he's still my friend first and foremost, I'm not gonna let that slide by.”
“Okay, Princess,” Lance pats her wrist, “I appreciate it, but I'm supposed to be the Knight here. I don't need any saving, I just–”
He shrugs.
“I just wanted to let myself be heartbroken for a bit. I don't think I've had the time to mull it over with everything that's been going on. We're all on edge so I,” he takes a little pause, trying to rationalize his feelings and empathize even through it all -- even if sad, he can't help but understand.
"I just wanted some time to think it through."
Allura nods. Then she straightens up: she has that sparkle in her eyes she gets everytime when she has an idea. Lance honestly likes that look on her, it makes her seem younger, unshackled by responsibility.
She lets go of Lance.
“Come with me,” she hops down elegantly from her spot, turning towards her friend with a smile on her face once on the ground. She holds out both her hands for him, indulging him to grab onto them,+. “As much as I like this spot, I suppose a mattress would be more ideal. Maybe alongside some snacks and drinks?”
Lance blinks. He has a kind of déjà vu where, instead of Allura, he pictures both Rachel and Veronica, begging him to stay with them as the bitch about their last, tragic love story.
“Wait,” he says, “are you suggesting we do a cliché type of sleepover where we absolutely destroy our exes and/or crushes?”
Allura blinks back, surprised at the lengthy description. “I suppose…? Is it some sort of ritual back on Earth?”
“Only if you're part of Gilmore Girls, I guess.”
“Oh,” Allura frowns, “well, are we?”
For the first time in a while, Lance lets out a hearty laugh.
“Hell yeah, we are, Princess,” he grabs her hands, still smiling. “But we're doing this in your room. Your bed's bigger and way softer.”