(Warning. Self Harm ahead.)

"Has anyone seen Lance?" Keith asked, slumped against the wall of the kitchen.

Hunk shrugged, packing his freshest batch of cookies into a box, and Pidge didn't even react.

"... I haven't seen him for a few days now."

Hunk shrugged again, Pidge rolled her eyes.

"... these aren't rhetorical, you know."

The green paladin put down what she was tinkering with and fixed Keith with a look.

"Since when did you care so much about Lance?"

"What? And you don't?"

"I went into his room yesterday and he told me to fuck off. Now he's put a sign on his door saying 'knock first'. He clearly doesn't want any attention so I won't give it to him."

"He hasn't eaten anything in days, to be fair. I think we should probably-" Hunk started, but was rudely interrupted.

"He'll get hungry eventually. Just leave him alone. That asshole will come around."

Keith felt an angry throbbing in his forehead.

"That's a bit strong, don't you think? He's been kicked off the team. He didn't want to be but he was. How would you feel?"

"I'd accept it and I wouldn't spend my time sulking like a child, instead, finding a way to make myself useful!"

"Guys!" Hunk whispered. They both followed his eyes to the doorway, from where Lance looked upon the scene.

Pidge's face contorted with guilt, as the new arrival's expression turned into something deeply hurt, and he quickly walked away.

Keith glared daggers at everybody and followed him.

"Lance! Hey! Slow down!"

He didn't. If anything he sped up.

He wasn't going to chase him around the castle, so he just stopped.

And he watched him disappear from sight, full of anger at Pidge and frustration at Hunk and worry for Lance.

The team was falling apart. Nobody was getting on anymore. The tenseness of maintaining the coalition and Shiro's new, more serious and joyless persona, did nothing but add to the solemn atmosphere.

It hurt. Voltron was breaking.

---

Lance stormed away from Keith, considering breaking into a run but staying as calm as possible.

The tears were streaming down his cheeks and he couldn't bear to face anyone.

Pidge's words rang in his ears.

'That asshole'

'Sulking like a child'

'Make myself useful'

He only... he only wanted a....

... A knife.

How would he get one now, with them in the kitchen?

He'd have to wait.

Lance made his way around, back to the kitchen, and sneaked a peek inside. Unfortunately, Hunk and Pidge were still in there, and they showed no sign of leaving.

... later.

Pidge really didn't like him anymore, did she? Not that she liked him in the first place. Why would she?

She was clever while he was an idiot.

He shouldn't have told her to fuck off. He was just... at that point, upset, and embarrassed, and not in desire of interaction at all.

She was just showing concern, and he shoved it back in her face. What an idiot.

The walk back to his room was boring and seemed to take forever. He thought he saw Keith a few times, but it just turned out to be his imagination.

Why did Keith run after him, anyway? He'd never shown any distinct care for him before now.

He still felt quite sour about the whole Red Lion ordeal.

Sour being a massive understatement.

---

Lance had to pass time. He wasn't going to venture into the kitchen till everyone had left, and knowing Hunk, as long as there wasn't a need for the yellow lion, he'd stay in there till he went to sleep.

So, he decided to go and see Allura, to try and get some answers.

Knocking on her chamber door, waiting nervously for the shuffling inside to come to the door.

Whoosh. It opened. The Princess was momentarily surprised to see him but sank back into her usual homely smile.

"... Lance? It's nice to see your face again."

He nodded nervously, wondering why his usual attraction to her wasn't... as strong. Was it even there? Yes... just... much less so. That was odd. He wondered why...

But quickly moved his mind back to more pressing matters.

"Princess, I was just wondering... I'd like to know what traits the Red Lion looks for in its paladins. You know... just to see... where I went wrong."

Her face filled with sympathy.

"You didn't go wrong, Lance. Things happen that we have no control over. I hope you don't blame yourself..."

He couldn't say truthfully that he didn't.

"... come inside."

He hadn't ever been in Allura's room before. It looked cosy, colourful banners draped everywhere and a little house for the mice standing in one corner.

She gestured for him to sit on one of the poofy chairs set out, and he did as told.

"The Red Lion is, as you know, the most quick and volatile of the lions, and therefore looks for clear instinct in its Paladins. Somebody who relies more on their instincts than their skill. Somebody who trusts them self."

Lance stared at her, expecting more, but all she followed up with was a tilted head and a confused expression.

"... And?"

"That's it."

"... Really?"

Lance blinked rapidly and stared at the floor.

"... But... I do... trust myself..."

One of the mice clambered onto Lance's lap, and he begrudgingly gave it a scratch behind the ear.

"Maybe it's something else... Perhaps it just wasn't meant to be. The lions are of superior intelligence... it's entirely possible that they have a much better grasp on the grand scheme of things."

Lance shrugged, already theorising on his previous statement.

"Sorry... didn't help much, did I?"

"No, you helped. Thanks, princess."

He got up to leave but was pulled back by a soft touch.

"You really should eat something."

He nodded, then drew away.

The door slid shut.

It made sense. Finally.

He had stopped acting on impulse. He had started thinking through every action before performing it.

If only he had thought to trust himself sooner. Even if he learned to again, now, they wouldn't swap Keith out for him.

The intervention with Allura hadn't lasted as long as he hoped, so he just wandered around for god knows how long, finally passing Hunk in a corridor on the way to bed.

He sneaked back to the kitchen, looking inside to see if it was empty, then venturing inside.

Hunk seemed to have an obsession with cutlery. He had purchased so many different culinary blades on trips to shops that he wouldn't notice if one went missing.

Lance selected a relatively normal looking one. Something you would find in any Earth supermarket.

Shoving it up his sleeve, he looked around again, paranoid to any witnesses, and made his quick way out.

Back to his room, sitting on his bed, and slowly pulling up his sleeve again, taking the knife out but, not rolling it back down again.

He stared at the smooth skin of his forearm, wondering how badly he'd scar if he went through with this idea.

Self Harm.

His older sister used to do it. He remembered the pang of pain he felt when he first saw the scars. All over her arms, her legs. It was awful... he didn't know why anybody would do that to themselves... until now.

The dim light reflected off the blade, glinting cruelly.

Thinking of family brought a new pang of pain. He missed them so much. Being at the Garrison without them was hard enough, but now, millions, maybe billions of miles away, not knowing if they were ok, or if they knew he was alive, it was even harder. Would they be disappointed in him?

'¿Para qué?' a little voice in his head asked.

What for? For being kicked out of the Red Lion. For becoming such a waste of space because of it. For succumbing to this self injury that haunted the family when it made home in his sister?

Oh well. He might never see them again. This wouldn't hurt them.

But it would hurt him.

The single slither of red stung like an insect bite, little beads of blood rising to the surface, gory bubbles that didn't pop, just smeared.

He thought that he'd be crying at this sight, but he wasn't. His eyes were dry. It was... odd.

He positioned the knife to cut again, pressing the point to his skin and dragging down.

A slither of liquid fell down his cheek.

Ah. There were the tears.

He knew they'd come eventually.

But he didn't know when they'd stop.