Keith woke up earlier than Lance that morning. He didn't want to move when he remembered the gentleness of Lance's body curled around his. He wanted to stay forever in Lance's warm arms. Lance's hot breath tickled Keith's neck as he breathed heavily in his sleep. Keith arched his back in a stretch, yawning. Lance didn't stir, so Keith decided to just go ahead and get up. If he lingered while Lance was asleep, he wouldn't be happy when he had to force himself away. So he got up carefully, avoiding Lance's long legs to keep from waking the boy.

The jacket smelled like Lance now, his skin smelled like Lance from curling up in Lance's arms for the whole night. He rubbed his eyes, the cold dorm floor soaking through his socks. Keith decided to do a wash. The blue sweatshirt needed to be stained and both boys had wash from the week. Keith grabbed the purple basket and piled everything in it, balancing the basket on the jut of his hip bone.

When Lance woke up, there would be the bottle of Advil right on the bed stand with a note that told him where Keith was. Lance was fast asleep, and Keith watched for a moment. He wasn't supposed to remember the kiss, but that was all he could think about. Before Keith let himself smile anymore at Lance, he left. He was kind of mad. That felt like more than just a drunken kiss, and that's all Lance said it was.

Lance was miles away and several pages off from Keith. Keith found himself refusing conversation as he headed straight for the laundry room. He let himself fall in love with a boy who was totally unattainable. It's not love, Keith, you just met him Keith's mind scolded. His heart hurt, physically hurt from the pain of Lance. Lance was a pest who'd wormed his way into Keith's heart just like any other pest.

Keith set the laundry basket angrily on the top of the washing machine, the door shutting with a quiet click. The room was big and brick, the wall to the hall all windows so people could see how many machines were free. Keith rested his head on the basket and grit his teeth. Lance wouldn't leave his brain. Lance complains, Lance pouts, Lance cries, Lance is annoying, so why is Keith so enraptured with the boy?

He began to toss the clothes into the machine, leaving the sweatshirt out to spot it for Lance. The clothes hit the bottom of the machine with a dry thud. When Lance ran the water, it splashed against the clothes and spread the soap out over the fabric. Keith found a random spotter on the shelf and used it. He sprayed the blood and rubbed the cloth together in attempt to rub the soap deeper.

Keith figured he did all the could've and tossed it under the water stream, pouring the rest of the soap in and closing the lid. He sighed, the machine vibrating under his elbows. He was the only one there, which meant he could think. Lance wasn't there in his bed right next to him, no one was there to judge, his brain had space. He could breath.

The laundry room always smelled really nice. Fresh clothes always smelled nice too. Keith imagined a home smelled like that on laundry days. He messed around on his phone, humming some song. There were people commenting on his most recent Instagram that he posted last night just before him and Lance went to the dock. Lance had an arm around Keith's neck and was grinning eagerly, eyes shut. Keith had a shy smile on his face too. People commented everything from hate to love to encouraging them to date. Keith didn't reply to any of them, he just tucked the picture in his favorites in his heart.

On his feed, there were mostly celebrities today. He wasn't interested. Instead he switched to explore to find some dumb shit he could send Lance for a laugh. Lance? Keith gritted his teeth and threw his phone on the top of the machine. Not Lance. Keith buried his hands in his hair and focused on the crisp white surface of the machine. It was cool against his elbows which were red from his weight on them.

The door clicked and Lance was there, a smile tugging at his lips. "Even with a hangover you wake up to do laundry." Keith smiled, cheeks flushing. Lance's sweater sleeves were bunched up by his wrists as he held the edges of his sleeves in his fists. His basketball shorts were a fiery red, Keith's favorite color. Keith pushed himself off the machine slowly as Lance walked over.

"Well someone's finally up." Keith's anger disappeared completely when Lance walked it. He looked really warm and happy, and that was the best Lance. Lance smiled tiredly.

"I have a headache that hurts like a bitch but I'll be fine," Lance said. When he laughed, he closed his eyes like the dim light of the laundry room hurt him. Keith shifted uncomfortably. Sure, they promised they'd forget the kiss, but Keith was still unnerved by the fact that it happened. Even after it happened, Lance denied it. Keith smiled back.

"We're in this together Lance." Keith ran a hand over the edge of the shaking machine, avoiding eye contact with Lance. "Are you okay? Do you need anything else?" Lance hopped to sit up on the next machine over, slouching and closing his eyes.

"No. Thanks for doing the laundry."

"Someone's gotta do it." Lance scoffed.

"I would've done the wash, Keith. You beat me to it." Keith rolled his eyes, leaning back against the machine. He rubbed one of his eyes and yawned. "Go back to sleep if you're so tired." Keith shrugged.

"Probably shouldn't." Silence. The machine ran quietly behind Keith for a little while longer, the gentle vibrations of it running along Keith's spine. He couldn't stop thinking about Lance. He wanted to kiss Lance again, he wanted to hold his hand. He wanted to cuddle him again. Despite the rain, there was no thunder. The cool drops beat against the window softly. Keith pulled his sleeves over his fists and crossed his arms.

"Your mullet is a mess. Ever thought of tying it up?" Keith looked over at Lance and shook his head. Lance's eyes sparkled at the thought. Lance motioned for Keith to come closer, so he did. Lance balanced his hands on Keith's shoulder to center him against the machine between Lance's legs. Keith covered his mouth with his hand, whole body flushing with heat. The hair at the nape of his neck was gone and so was the hair that curled over his ears. Lance had it pulled back quickly into a tight ponytail. "Turn." So Keith did a lazy turn to act like he didn't really care.

"Am I cute yet?" Keith said. Lance laughed as Keith did some dumb aegyo. He placed two fingers on his cheeks and puffed them out, scrunching the rest of his face up. He bunched his shoulders up too, trying (and failing) to look cute. Lance laughed and Keith fixed himself. To him, it was a total flop, something he should be good at. To Lance, it was a total not flop. Keith was cute, even without trying.

"You're so stupid Keith." Keith laughed. The machine buzzed to tell them the laundry was washing. Keith opened the top to begin to pull the wet clothes out and throw them in the drier.

"Then what are you?" They laughed. It was almost as though they were still drunk. Still drunk after hours of alcohol having worn off. Still drunk not off alcohol but off high spirits. Keith reached for the last cloth and shut the drier, turning the dials to the right settings.

"You're not half bad, Mullet."

"And you're not a fourth bad, McClain," Keith teased. The drier ran quietly as the boys sat in silence. Keith's head was rested in his hand and he shut his eyes to block out the faint light from the room. The rain picked up outside, clanging the window that ran along the far edge of the ceiling.

There was a lull in the day; a lull between the two boys that couldn't be helped. They were tired, they were hungover, the last thing they wanted was another fight, so neither spoke. The room was warm from the buzzing of the machine and the heating going on in the building. People walked by occasionally, breaking the silence with the hum of their voice. Keith's eyes were tired and hazy, and he wore his glasses to keep from falling on his face. Lance didn't bother pick on Keith because he thought he looked cute with those glasses. Keith always looked cute.

"Lets go take pictures at the art wall downtown," Lance suggested. Keith shrugged and offered an okay.

"No way you'll look nice during a hangover."

"Bet!" Lance called. "I always look good." Keith rolled his eyes, tightening his jacket around his body. It was so warm and it felt like a home. Keith's idea of a home. That all familiar bitter taste slithered up Keith's throat at the the thought of a family. He hated his birth parents, and he hated the thought of Lance and his home and his parents. Lance seemed to recognize something was wrong. "Jesus Keith can you stop being so depressed for like, ten seconds?"

"Shut up Lance." Keith didn't really mean to spit at Lance, but he did. And he regretted it. Sure he was upset, but it's never a good thing to be so harsh to someone who didn't provoke you.

"You know you could like, talk if you wanted." Keith sighed and the machine buzzed. He hurried to pull the warm door open and pull out the newly dried clothes. They piled up in the purple bin as Keith pulled them out. Lance watched him.

"Quit being so nosy. It's nothing you need to know." Lance huffed.

"You know you get really mad really randomly and really easily." Keith sighed, stuffing the last piece of clothing into the laundry bin. He closed the machine and stood up, balancing the basket on his hip again.

"You know Lance, you're right. You don't get to know everything that goes on here because if you did, I'd go crazy. We may be friends, but I still can't stand you."

"Keith! What the fuck is wrong?" Lance yelled. Keith glared hard at Lance. He couldn't stand Lance at any given moment in time. A few people walking by eyed them carefully. Keith then looked everywhere but Lance as he spoke.

"I look at you and I get jealous. Okay? I'm jealous of you. You're practically perfect, you're confident. You have a family. You... you have a family." Keith hated himself. Lance wasn't supposed to know how jealous he really was. Sure, they fought and Keith had slipped it in, but he certainly couldn't let Lance know how much it really bothered him.

"Is a family the only thing you ever think about? If you go around hating people because they have families, you're not going to like very many people." Keith scoffed. His hand instinctively went to his hair, but it was tied back so he dropped his hand down to his leg.

"I don't hate you, we have talked about this. And even if I did, it wouldn't be because of your damn family." Lance cocked his head. Keith found it really hard to not find Lance cute. He was always doing something cute.

"You're so irrational, Mullet. Your brain puts together completely unrelated puzzle pieces."

"You think I don't know that?!" Keith screamed. What a great start to a Saturday. Keith gritted his teeth, the all familiar burning sensation beginning around his eyes. "You don't think I live every day of my life wondering if every single one of my flaws was a reason my parents gave me up?" Keith didn't realize he was crying until he was. It hurt. He'd always thought it but he'd never admitted it. Oh how the words hurt ten times more to hear out loud.

"They didn't even know your flaws yet, you were too young. No son is a perfect son, trust me, I know." Keith shifted his weight and avoided Lance's direction, taking a weird fascination to the worn brown brick.

"You wouldn't understand no matter how hard I tried to explain it." Keith's voice broke under the imaginary weight of the world. It felt like taking off a heavy book bag. He laid it all out for Lance, he spelled it letter by letter so Lance wasn't left questioning anything. "I can't help but think people would give me up for the same reasons my parents would. So yeah, Lance, I'm jealous of you. I'm jealous of you because I think maybe if I was good like you, if I had pretty eyes like you they wouldn't have let me go." It was obvious Lance had no clue how to deal with a crying Keith. When it was thunder, it was easier to comfort because it was just a small fear. This fear was like a giant beast that couldn't be helped with a hug. It was one that had sucked the life out of Keith for years.

"So... you feel unloved?" Lance asked slowly. Keith laughed and pressed the heel of his free hand into his eye.

"That's the simple way to put it. Laugh all you want at pitiful Keith who cries because he doesn't have a family. Sorry." Keith walked right passed Lance, even as the boy called his name to no avail. He shoved the door open and hurried down the hall, not running but definitely not walking. How could he miss someone who he didn't even know? How could he hate someone who's name he couldn't even picture? He sped right passed all the weird looks he was getting, he walked right passed them. The rain had frozen to snow as the temperature dropped which made it worse.

He wiped the tears with the back of his hand while he stepped into the dorm room. Lance better not be anywhere nearby. Keith threw the basket on the floor and stood there, watching the window. Huge alligator tears now streamed down his face. He was so damn selfish. Everything he said was so dumb, especially since he told them to the boy he made out with the night before. Lance's phone was on the bedspread, buzzing with messages. The top one was from his mom, the rest was more hate from those unknown numbers.

Keith was going crazy. All these dumb things combined to create whatever this storm was. He slammed his fist against the radiator under the window and sunk to the floor. He sobbed hard, something relatively uncharacteristic to Keith. Why did he feel this pit in his chest. He had a heart for Lance and the hate he was getting. Lance's father beats him. He had cancer. His sister was a stillborn, his brother in a wheelchair. Keith had no right to lash out, but he still felt this pang in his chest that told him otherwise. Everything was about Keith and his problems.

So he started laughing. He fell against the floor and hid behind his hands like he were playing peekaboo. He was so overreacting. Dumbass boy. He didn't flinch when the door cracked. He didn't flinch when he felt Lance's heat walk in. He didn't flinch even when Lance laid a cautious hand on Keith's wrist.

"Listen Mullet. I know you're pretty upset-"

"No I'm not-" Keith mumbled. That just made his eyes water again.

"Yes you are. I know I can't fix this." Lance's voice was reassuring but strong, a wall that Keith couldn't break. "I will tell you, families aren't perfect. If they had kept you, you never know what you might have gone through. First off, we wouldn't be fighting in the laundry room in North Carolina. You never know why they gave you up, they might not have had enough money to support you. You might've died there. But..." Lance didn't know what he was saying. It was dumb. There was never a way to justify the acts of parents. So he told that to a silent Keith.

"I feel bad. I'm being selfish," Keith mumbled. He rolled over on his side and shut his eyes.

"No," Lance said playfully. "Besides, it's never bad to be a little selfish." Keith rolled his eyes.

"You would say some bullshit like that," Keith said. Lance chuckled and stood up.

"Mama can be a mother figure. She's really great, she'll make you cookies before you go do your chores." Keith laughed.

"Sure Lance, just put a mother in my life because it happens that easily." Lance leaned against the edge of the bed and scoffed. Keith knew right away he had provoked Lance. Again. He shut his eyes again and rubbed his temples.

"That's not what I said, idiot. I said she can be a mother figure. Why would I give Mama to you? And why the hell would I want another brother, three is enough." Keith sat up to face the radiator and buried his face in his hands.

"God Lance, can you fucking chill for literally two seconds. I don't want a selfish brat like you for a brother and I sure as hell don't want to take your mom." Lance scoffed.

"I figured after this time you'd realize I'm not as bad as you think. But I guess I was just wrong." There was a mixture of kindness and poison in those words. They hit Keith like a train. He knew Keith wasn't that bad, he just wasn't into losing fights. "Go cry to your mother, oh wait-"

"Lance! Can we just stop fighting for three seconds so I can think? You give me a headache!" Keith yelled standing up.

"I give you a headache?" Keith wanted to hit Lance again. His fist quivered like an anticipating arrow at his side. He had the power to beat the living shit out of Lance, but he wouldn't make the same mistake again.

"I try to be nice, I really do! I want to kiss you sometimes-" Keith paused to laugh. He rested his hand on his forehead, chuckling at the irony. Of course he wanted to kiss Lance, but it was an honest skip of the tongue. Keith laughed again, face flushing red. "I meant kill. I'm going to get Chinese food, come if you want." Keith stormed out of the room red faced. Everything was busy on the weekends because everyone was, you know, free to do stuff. So Keith went to the local Chinese restaurant to get takeout.

The people there were always so nice, and he sometimes even saw Pidge there. She worked part-time cleaning tables. Keith had to get a job and stat, but he didn't know what to do. He wasn't good at anything. He would make a nice librarian maybe, but he didn't like books enough. So Keith sat down against the fence and stared at the vandalized wall, head cocked lazily to the side. He looked like some poor broke kid eating lo mein against the rusty fence. There were cups in the fence for no actual reason, probably some dumb seniors just doing it because they didn't want to walk literally one foot to the trash can.

Keith sighed. No matter what he thought about Lance. But today he found him thinking about his family today. He wondered what they were doing. He wondered about his mom. What was she cooking? Did she think about Lance? And his brother, was he lonely without Lance? To think a single annoying boy could mean so much to a family. Keith couldn't even imagine. He was an orphan, he knew that. He would never have a family of his own because if he ever saw his birth mother, he'd slap her. She wasn't worth his damn time anyways.

The Chinese food was good at least. Keith found himself shoveling it into his body at an unhealthy rate. Lance would scold him saying it would make him sick. He just laughed at the thought of Lance. Lance was so... unnecessary in Keith's life, yet somehow he felt like he needed Lance so bad.

There were spaced out shuffles that sounded like footsteps. Assuming it was Ms. Chen, he didn't look up. "Hey," he heard a familiar voice mumble. Lance. "There's a party tonight... I was hoping you'd come." Keith scoffed and took another wad of noodles in his mouth.

"I'll go. But I swear if they don't have food I'm out." Lance forced a chuckle.

"Okay Mullet, nine at Clay's. See you there." Lance kind of saluted before shuffling away. Keith hated the tenseness between them. It was like a tangible rubber band, incredibly tense and could snap at any moment. Keith watched Lance as he soon met up with another boy who threw an arm around his neck. Keith caught just a little of Lance's laugh before they descended down the steps.

The Party

Keith couldn't find Lance. There was weed, lots of weed. Not to mention every light in the house was fluorescent which burned Keith's eyes. Also, he had to wear these dorky glasses so he could see shit. He wasn't into this at all. Lance had pushed him to dress ready for a party, so he did. Keith hardly missed an opportunity to dress up.

He had on a windbreaker with soft pastel colors over just a simple white tee. He had on ripped black jeans and combat boots. Not his best work, but enough to not stand out as he camped out by the food. It was in the kitchen, which was a striking blue fluorescent. It was kind of separated, the open glass door letting the vibrations from the bass echo through the room. Keith never liked parties, he didn't like the idea of being around so many people. He didn't dislike alcohol (obviously) he just didn't like the kids throwing up. He didn't like all the kids making out on the wall.

He found Lance, a sudden sense of urgency to get to him kicking in. He was flirting with some girl, of course. He had that dumb smirk on his face, the one that practically spelled out flirt in big block letters. He had a red plastic cup sloshing with some sort of alcohol as he crooned at the girl. He had on a white shirt, blue jeans, and Timberland boots. He looked really cute. Wait...

Keith watched him continue to flirt, pushing himself up on the counter and sitting cross legged on the top. Lance was such an idiot. Keith took a sip of whatever was in his hand and continued to watch Lance.

"Did you come just to stalk them?" Someone asked. Keith followed the voice to find a small girl standing there. She had big curly hair that was tied back and still puffed out against her back. She had on big glasses and a sort of dark rainbow plaid button shirt. She had on black leggings and these shiny black rain boots.

"Stalk who?" She shrugged and leaned against the counter.

"I don't know, whoever you're watching with that look on your face."

"What look?" Keith hated confrontation. He automatically hated the girl for walking up and talking to him.

"Admiration," she said grinning. She was a bit tipsy, but she knew what she was talking about.

"What? No."

"Jealousy?" She raised and eyebrow and took a sip of her drink. Keith glanced back at Lance was was laughing with the girl, smiling charmingly at her.

"No it's... I don't have any feelings for this person." Keith didn't know what he felt towards Lance. He didn't want to be Lance's friend, he either wanted something less or something more. He wanted to erase the name Lance McClain from his brain. When they passed, they didn't even meet eyes. But he remembered the kiss; he wanted their lips to lock in that all familiar fervent make-out. He wanted to kiss Lance with every fiber of his being, to connect all their loose ends to each other and never let go. He sighed and took another sip of his drink. Tasted like alcohol.

"Whatever. So which is it? The girl of the guy?" She looked back over the two. A darkness squirmed in Keith's heart. This sudden defensiveness came over him, but not a defensiveness over himself, a defensiveness over Lance.

"The..." No point in lying right? "Guy. The guy."

"You know his name?" Keith shifted his body to be more comfortable and banged his head on the cupboard behind him intentionally.

"Of course I know his name, he's my roommate." The girl ahhed like suddenly everything made sense. Keith wished things worked like that for him. He wished he could just watch Lance bat a pretty eyelash and immediately know what he felt. His stomach churned.

"You could come with me and make him jealous." Lance looked like he was paying the world no mind because he wasn't. He was sitting there with all eyes on the girl, all two of them. His mind wasn't on the girl even as he spit out dumb pickup lines and called her pretty, he saw nothing but another opportunity. Another girl to keep up his reputation.

"He's paying no mind, there's no point." The girl leaned on her elbows over the table, a wicked smirk on her face as she took a sip of her drink. She was really pretty, hopefully had a boyfriend who treated her right.

"Are you good with your alcohol?" She asked, resting her face on her hand. Her cup was on the table and she traced her finger around the rim.

"Apparently you're not, you look a bit tipsy." She laughed, taking another sip.

"Of course I'm tipsy, I've had a bit to drink." Keith scoffed and took another swig of his own drink. He would rather get wasted with Lance again, it'd be so much more pleasurable than doing it with this girl he didn't even know. Keith watched as Lance slipped away from the girl right towards were Keith was sitting on the table. The girl must've realized something happened by the way Keith's eyes widened and he sat up straighter, looking distracted. She laughed and left, her hair flopping against her back as she walked back out into the main room.

"Mullet!" Lance called, smiling. It wasn't the smirk he gave the girl, it was a smile. Keith blushed and looked at Lance.

"Hey-"

"Get your antisocial ass out of the kitchen, come on!" Keith rolled his eyes.

"I don't want to be here. The lights hurt my eyes, I have no one to be with because you're out flirting with girls!" Keith exhaled upwards to blow the stray hair out of his face.

"You were flirting with that girl. Anyways, college parties aren't like middle school parties, Mullet, you don't hang with your crew." Keith threw his hands in the air, angrily.

"I don't have a crew anyways! I don't go to parties, how on earth do you expect me to know that? You're the only person I have at this school who does shit like this. You invited me it's only fair you keep me in tow." Lance leaned over the counter like the girl, sighing. He rubbed his forehead with his fingers.

"Stop drinking, Keith. You're going to just get angrier." Keith sighed in frustration.

"Why do you want me to be here? To observe you while you flirt with girls all the time?"

"No! No, of course not!" Lance stood up straight again, his cup between his fingers. He looked really nice, the second time that thought crossed Keith's mind. Even when he was mad, his eyes twinkled brightly and beautifully. Keith was so mad at him, yet he couldn't help but see him as beautiful. Keith groaned and jumped off the table, taking Lance's wrist in his. "Jesus, Keith, loosen your fingers, ow!"

Keith shoved through people with Lance squirming in his grip. Keith stepped on toes and cups and hair on his quest for the stairs laced with neon purple lights. Lance kept yelling at him telling him people would think they were going off "together." Like Keith was that dumb to have sex with Lance.

"Keith what-" Keith swung his arm to release Lance into a bedroom and slammed the door behind him. Keith was supposed to be mad, but it was hard to be mad at Lance McClain. The lights were on and the white covers were neat against the bed behind him. He stood there, half defensive and half vulnerable.

"Lance, why do you always push me into these situations where I can't do anything?" Keith tied himself to the door in his brain so he wouldn't attack Lance. Even though he found it hard to be mad at Lance, he grew madder the more he spoke.

"What are you talking about?" Lance's voice was high pitched and he threw his hands to the side.

"You force me into these situations with my hands up because you know I'm too scared to do anything about it. You take me to a whole separate room just to hug me in the storm and you know I can't say no because I'm terrified. You get me drunk to make-out with you because you know I can't do anything because my brain stops working. And now, you come up to me and ask me if I want to come to a party. But you say it in the dumb quiet voice like you're begging me to come. So I do because I can't say no because I don't want to hurt you. In times like these I remember you're not always as fragile as you are when you're crying!" Keith's hands twitched. It was much less a desire to hit Lance but a desire to hit something. He wanted to take the nearest thing and throw it against the wall. But if that happened to be Lance, so be it.

"Keith, you didn't have to come!"

"You sure as hell made it sound like that's what you wanted me to do!" Lance laughed, running a hand through his hair.

"You're not my dog, do what you want! Just don't get mad at me, I get you have anger issues but you don't have to hit me every time you fuck up!" Keith's heart surged, his fingers buzzing again. But it wasn't a drunk buzz, it was an anger buzz.

"Why are you such an idiot?" Keith yelled.

"I'm not the idiot. You're the one who came you dumbass!" Lance paused. Then a slow smile of realization slipped on his face. "I get it. You're not mad because of the party, you're just mad at me. I forgot you hated me." Lance said it with such sweet conviction, it hurt. He almost wasn't angry anymore, but he was. He was so angry he didn't look angry. Like when you laugh so hard, you're not laughing at all.

"I'm-"

"Shut up Mullet. Jesus you never stop talking." Keith couldn't stand it. The fire in his bone urged him forward. Keith jumped onto Lance, swatting at him. Lance only had a sliver of fear in his eyes before his eyes filled with spite. They glimmered with an anger that was new to both of them. The dark pit sat uncomfortably in the bottom of their stomachs. Lance placed his hands over Keith's stomach to push him back. Keith's back hit the wall hard behind him, taking all of the air from his lungs. He gasped hard for air and ran at Lance, going for a punch.

Lance blocked it with his arms in an x so Keith kneed him in the stomach. Lance stumbled back a little and Keith stepped forward to make up the ground. He threw another punch. Lance dodged a little and hit Keith square in the jaw, the loud clack of teeth and crack of jaws jostling Keith's skull. Keith didn't hesitate to grab Lance's shoulders tightly told hold him back. They were at a standstill until Lance took Keith into a headlock.

"Jesus!" Keith gasped out.

"You're a weak fight," Lance said. Keith kicked Lance's leg from behind causing him to lose his balance. It was his bad leg. Lance fell to the floor, his hand slamming into the edge of the bed, nearly hitting his head. Keith was panting hard now as he climbed on Lance's lap and hit him. Lance was struggling to find traction against Keith's shoulders to hold him back. Lance was bleeding, his face hardly having recovered from just two nights ago.

"Weak fight my ass." Lance coughed and pushed Keith back. Lance's lungs felt like they would cave in. It wasn't the worst pain, there were plenty of things he'd done to himself that were ten times worse, but the fact that it was Keith made it hurt even more. Lance hurried to sit up with what little strength he had had and grabbed Keith's wrists in both his hands. Keith was sitting on his thighs, pure anger in his face. Lance was angry too, but he wanted to pain to stop more than he was concerned about hitting Keith back.

"Can you stop fighting please! You've made your damn point!" The boys sat panting hard for a few more seconds before Keith started laughing. It was a full on laugh too, not one of his typical Mona Lisa smiles. He laughed like something was funny. "Keith what the hell?" Keith just ran a hand through his hair.

"Oh my god." He couldn't breathe he was laughing so hard. He curled over and rested his forehead on Lance's shoulder while he laughed uncontrollably. "We're fighting over a party."

"No-"

"We're fighting because I couldn't hang out with you during a party." Keith screeched he was laughing so hard now. Lance's lips pulled back into a bloody smile.

"And then-"

"You thought I was flirting with a girl. Lance I'm gay, I hate any girl who isn't Pidge!" Lance began laughing too, Keith lifting his head off his shoulder.

"You dragged me in-"

"Like we were going to have sex!" Keith said, laughing. Both boys were cackling now. "I just wanted to fight in private and get the hell out of those lights. They gave me headache!" Lance was laughing so hard too, both boys shaking and steadying themselves on each other from laughing so hard.

"It sounded like we were actually going to have sex to anyone else. Banging around-"

"I threw you into a wall!"

"And people fuck against doors!" They were so obviously just a little tipsy. They were shaking long after they left, but now they were laughing so much it was uncontainable.

"God Lance we're a mess." Lance laughed and laid back on the floor, taking a big breath and hiccuping.

"Jesus I can't breathe it's so funny. Keith you have attachment and anger problems. I blame your mother." Keith laughed and slid of Lance's lap to lean against the book case where some books had fallen off in the fight.

"I blame her too," Keith said. Keith's heart hurt, but not painfully, from laughter. He hadn't laughed that hard for a long while, and his body was so hurt and worn out from it. "You look stupid," Keith said. Lance giggled.

"Wonder whose fault that is for messing up my perfect complexion. Twice." Keith laughed.

"I think you dislocated my jaw, I've just tasted blood for the last few minutes now." Lance shrugged.

"Small price for revenge, mi amigo."

"Let's go. Like, leave the party. I can't stand it." Lance okayed that and stood up, smiling charmingly at Keith. Keith's heart melted just a little under that grin, but he also wanted to throw up.

"Me neither. That girl was not my type." Keith chuckled. He took Lance's hand and dragged him down the stairs. They snuck around the edge, Lance breathing hotly down the back of Keith's neck. They shared laughs, both avoiding girls they didn't want to talk to.

"Hey, stalker boy!" Someone called. Keith looked through the crowds of dark shadows to find the girl, her bright outfit clear through the people.

"Shit shit, run!" Keith yelled, pulling Lance behind him. At this point, they didn't care about people seeing. They sprinted through the front door, cursing and laughing. Keith looked back only to make sure Lance didn't trip as they sped out of the house. Keith didn't let go of Lance's hand, even after they turned the block. Their blood was pumping fast with adrenaline as they finally slowed to a walk down the street. "Okay so Lance has a type. And what would that be?" Lance chuckled.

"Not her." The boy's giggled, the alcohol wearing off and the adrenaline dying under the yellow streetlights. They walked really close to each other, hands still intact in case they had to run suddenly again. "What was stalker boy girl's problem." Keith scoffed, rolling his eyes. That dumb girl.

"Thought I was checking you out when I was actually just planning your murder in my head." Lance chuckled, their shoulders rubbing together. Keith blushed and looked out into the road.

"You wouldn't kill me."

"Yes I would. I've almost killed you twice now. And I've thought about it plenty of times."

"But could you seriously imagine living in a work without the ever present, ever beautiful, ever charming Lance McClain?" Keith wasn't ever good at comebacks, his were always dumb. And he was especially bad when it came to covering up his feelings.

"I actually can because I've lived without you before you took Pidge's spot." Lance's smirk dropped and he sighed.

"Shit, you're right," he said. Keith laughed as they approached the dorms.

"Come on, we'll go patch each other up," Keith said, walking a little faster. He looked back at Lance who was grinning. Keith hurried up the stairs with Lance behind him. "Go ahead and go to the bathroom, I'll bring the first aid kit from the room." He finally realized he was still holding Lance's hand. He shyly let go and opened the door. When he got in, he rested a head on the cool desk.

His head was spinning so fast colors blurred. His whole body swayed like he was going to fall. The all familiar taste flooded his whole mouth. He didn't know what it was, but it was so familiar to him. An overwhelming pressure was in his head in seconds. His head burned, it had surpassed an ache and now it burned. Keith reached under the dresser for the first aid kit hooked on the nail on the side.

In the hall he leaned against the wall. He was falling for Lance. He'd convinced himself several times he wasn't falling for Lance, yet plenty of times, he still found himself thinking about that boy. He was always on Keith's mind like a star in the sky. He exhaled heavily before making his way to the bathroom where Lance was sitting on a sink and leaning against the mirror tiredly. The bitter taste of alcohol stung Keith's tongue.

Lance looked up when Keith set the first aid kid on the sink, pulling out some paper towels and band aids.

"Close your eyes." Lance did. Keith couldn't help admire the boy. "Tell me something, this might hurt as I disinfect it." Lance smirked and dropped it really quick.

"My sister. When I had cancer at thirteen my sister shaved her head so I wouldn't be alone. She would always be outside of the room after chemo and would take me flower shopping or whatever. We kind of... we both live at the mercy of God. God could let her heart stop again any time. She could die any second so she always has to be on her best behavior. And I... well I could get cancer again any day. But my sister has risked everything for me. She's gotten me out of trouble, she's helped me on the darkest days.

"My sister is really kind, her name is Camila. She loves chocolate and summer. She loves summer because I was born in summer. I don't know why she loves me so much, I'm nothing too special to be cared about as much as she cares about me." Lance shrugged sadly, trying to pull it off like it was no big deal. "She's given me so much. I hope she knows I love her. I'm not the best at showing my emotions, ugh that's so damn cheesy, but I never use the right words. When I want to cry the tears don't always come um, like now, kind of." Now that Keith thought about it, his voice was a little shaky. His fingers fiddled nervously in his lap while Keith dabbed disinfectant on the blood. He cringed occasionally when Keith touched a bruise, but he continued to talk.

"I kind of want to cry right now, but I know no tears are going to come out. Besides it's dumb. I just wish my dumb little brain was smart enough to come up with a word to tell her how much I loved her. Or a way I could show her. I don't want to come off as ungrateful. I mean, I don't want to come if as ungrateful everyone, but her and Mama are so important. I don't want to die until they fully understand how much I care about them." Keith was backed up a little now, watching Lance. Lance was actually really sweet. He gets so much bad press. Doesn't stop him from being annoying as hell. "Done?" Keith snapped back.

"Oh, y-yeah." Lance opened a sparkling eye and smiled, hopping off the counter.

"You're up Mullet. Now it's your turn to talk. Anything." Keith closed his eyes. Lance didn't move, like he was waiting for Keith to begin speaking before he'd even think about helping him.

"Uh... well on my first day of elementary school, I walk in and cry because I can't get my locker open." Lance snickers. Keith felt the soft pads of Lance's hands against his cheeks and face as he helped soothe the bruise on Keith's jaw.

"No way."

"Yes way! I walk in, it's like freshman orientation but it's sixth grade orientation. So I was so ready, but when they gave me the lock, I couldn't fucking open it. So for the rest of my time there, I was known as the kid who cried because he couldn't open his locker. Also, the gay kid because rumors started that I kissed the school's hottest guy or something. Never happened by the way, but boy do I wish." Lance snickered. His breath was warm over Keith's skin. Keith wondered if Lance felt the heat with Keith breathing down his chest like that but a second ago. Probably not.

"Did you kiss any boys?" Lance asked curiously. Keith sighed, acting depressed.

"No. I'm a virgin to everything romantic." Lance gasped.

"No way!"

"Yes way! No one likes me. And definitely not in middle school." Lance laughed again. Keith wanted to peek at Lance. It was like peek a boo, maybe he could look at Lance without him knowing. He opened one eye to see Lance looking right at him. Keith blushed and laughed, an awkwardness setting in. He felt his hair stand on end.

"Is your back okay, I know you hit the wall hard and I think there was a nail in the wall." Keith shrugged.

"That was the last of my concerns." Lance swallowed and motioned for Keith to shed his shirt. Uncomfortably, he took it off and turned as far the other direction as he could on that sink. He felt Lance's fingers on his back and shivered. Goosebumps covered his body as he sat uncomfortably with Lance's warm hands on his back.

"What's the story behind this?" Lance asked, running a hand over a piece of charred skin on Keith's back. Keith cringed at the memory.

"Um..." Lance rubbed disinfectant on his back. He didn't even realize there was a cut there. "At the... orphanage. The keeper was making eggs for the kids... I accidentally got in her way and she whacked me with the burning pan. This happened several times. She hated me especially because I did nothing but take her food for eighteen years." Lance's fingers wandered where they weren't supposed to. They felt around the charred skin like it was something special.

"You can... put your shirt back on." Keith chuckled.

"Good, you're too good to see my ugly ass back." Lance smiled. "Look, I'm just trying to cheer you up. I know you miss your family. And you sister. I don't want you to be sad though." Lance shrugged and waited for Keith to get the first aid kit before they walked back to the dorm. They always found this happening, these depressing silences. They seemed to always be sharing and investigating and learning about each other, so much so it hurt. It hurt a lot. Keith swore that night Lance was crying. He understood the pain and all of not having a family, but still. An eighteen year old shouldn't be crying over his family.

Keith got it, he had almost died several times, and he never knew what was going to happen. Still, he cried and then pushed on the next day. Lance was so much more than Keith ever imagined.

The next morning he felt the exact opposite. Lance was nothing special, Lance was pest. And pests should be disposed of immediately.

"K-Keith," Lance asked quietly when Keith woke up. He was pale, really pale. Almost like he was sick. His phone was buzzing like crazy and he knew exactly what it was. All those idiots were texting him hate messages and telling him to kill himself.

"Lance, what's up you don't look too good." Lance was visibly shaking, his whole face white like a sheet. He looked about ready to leave in just sweatpants and a sweatshirt.

"Was it you? Who put my number up?" Lance looked hopeless. He looked like he'd seen a ghost. Fear graced the perfect curves of his face. Maybe he'd had a nightmare in addition to the immense amount of texts. With just a glance at the screen, Keith saw paragraphs and paragraphs of words being sent.

"Lance no, why the heck would I do that?" Lance cringed as though he wished it were Keith who'd done it. Lance was so curled into himself, already in a position to ward off a punch if need be.

"Because I was the one who got Pidge kicked out of your dorms."