*TW: Harsh content, possibly panic attack inducing content, read with caution*

I fucked up. God I fucked up so bad. 

When I kissed Keith and he kissed me back, I've never felt happier. I've never felt more accepted or appreciated. It was like the euphoric epitome of cloud-nine. My lips were the ocean and his were the sky and when we met in the middle our two worlds blended together.

His touch lingers on the back of my neck, the entirety of my lips, and on my chest in buzzing spurts of blissful energy. 

I never wanted to push him away. 

Every part of me wanted to indulge in Keith, even just his company was enough to make me feel better and stress less about how angry my father was going to be when I got home.

But it was worth it.

It was so worth the merciless beating I'm going to recieve; because Keith's lips on mine just felt so right, so beautiful, passionate, peaceful, yet lustful and hungry. It was breathtaking, but oxygen didn't matter. In that moment asphyxiation would be the best way to die. His taste was so seductive, it was so intoxicating that it made me dizzier then the alcohol. The moment was perfect, he was perfect... and I never wanted to push him away. 

But I did.

I had to.

If my father ever found out about Keith, let alone that I've kissed a man and that I'm sexually attracted to both females and males, I have no idea what hell he would raise. 

The beatings would get worse, he might actually kill me or worse, he could hurt Keith or someone else. He could hurt himself and despite how he treats me, I don't want him to die, especially after everything that's happened in our lives and everything he's put our family through. 

Once we left the party, the four of us silently stalked the moonlit sidewalks. They were dimly lit by the glow of flickering street lights and faint gasps from carefree lightning bugs.

We all look like shit pretty much, except for Hunk, our responsible little cinnamon roll. Pidge is covered in dirt from the closet and smells strongly of weed. My makeup is smeared and I'm practically shitfaced. Then there's Keith. A liquid drips to the concrete from his stockings and I follow it to his knees. 

Did I do that? Am I the reason for that?

His lipstick smeared a little and clothing disheveled, he refuses to even meet my gaze. He won't look anywhere in my direction, which stings worse than the Triple Sec I chugged. 

It's for his own safety Lance. 

You've got to protect him. 

Matt sat out front by the time we got to the house, and Hunk had to calmly explain to Matt that Pidge wasn't the one smoking weed, however he couldn't explain the faint smell of alcohol that whisked off their breath. 

We all shifted in our places, feeling oddly uncomfortable about the events that had taken place during that party. Pidge was brushing their teeth while Hunk went to the kitchen to grab a water bottle. I sat on the couch, fidgeting with a loose thread as Keith paced around the room. I didn't stop him, I didn't feel like I had to right to stop him.

He didn't even look at me when he grabbed his clothes and walked to the open front door; waving two fingers in the air as a signal to follow him.

He has no patience right now, not for anything and I wasn't about to be testy. I hopped into the passenger seat of Shiro's lame minivan, silently watching through the rearview mirror as Keith threw his things in the backseat and buckled up his seatbelt on the drivers side. 

I tried to keep my eyes off of him, giving him the space he needed, but something just wanted to look. A part of me couldn't handle not looking at him, because even in the darkness and despite the imperfections, he always looks breathtaking. 

"Keith-" I mumbled, trying to figure out what to say. Something, anything to re-light the sparks in his eyes that I extinguished. 

"Don't. Say anything." His eyes are closed as his head rests on the steering wheel, hands gripping tightly to ten and two like a new driver. 

"Im sor-" I attempt, but Keith cuts me off again. 

"Just don't." His words are harsher, yet a lingering sense of fatigue accompanies his request, warning me to bite my tongue. 

We waited a few moments, Keith breathing in the shakey labored breaths he tries to hide. He wants to hide. I've seen that look too many times on my own face, but it's hard. It's hard to get away, and I don't think I should leave him alone right now. 

Eventually Keith pulls out of the driveway without another word, suffocating us with a thick wool blanket of silence as he pours his concentration in driving. He seems more tense driving a car than his motorcycle, I probably would be too if I were used to driving with the wind in my hair and the sound of nature to destroy any remnant of awkward silence. 

After what seemed like an eternity, when in reality it was only a few minutes, I couldn't take the silence and rolled down the window, letting the wind whisk away any trace of soundlessness. The lighter in my hand cracked to life as I brought the cigarette to my mouth to rest between my teeth. The flame burnt the cherry to a glowing red hue and it only burns brighter when I inhale, blowing out a few puffs of smoke to start it off. 

"I don't think anyone's ever smoked in Shiro's car." Keith mumbles, and I glance in his direction from my huddled position. 

"Sorry... I can put it out..." I go to kill it but Keith grabs the smoldering bud from my fingers and and puts it in his mouth, opening the drivers side window without taking his eyes off the road. He chokes on the smoke a bit but keeps a tight grip on the cigarette.

Despite the tension I can't suppress the laugh bubbling up in my chest.

"You've never smoked before have you?" Keith turns to me, embarrassed and red-faced. It's kind of cute, but I can't say that out loud. I can't brush that piece of hair shielding his eyes from my view away without confusing him even more, or pissing him off.

"How could you tell?" 

"Just a wild guess." I respond. Hiding the grin spreading across my lips and the blush across my cheeks. The car falls into silence once again, but it's not as before.

The roads are desolate for the most part, we've only passed three cars in the past five minutes. Keith's been driving slower with the car than he had been with the motorcycle, probably because it's easier for a cop to catch a car than a motorcycle. Besides, both sides of the road are infested with trees since Keith opted to take the longer route around the city instead of through, claiming that 'this is when all the drunk idiots start driving home.'

The buzz of being drunk is wearing off and despite the good terms Keith and I seem to be on right now on the outside, all the reasons I was drinking before are hitting me like a freight train at a hundred miles an hour. Luckily, I filled a flask with vodka before I went up to that room and after feeling around in my pocket inconspicuously, I was able to confirm it was still with me.

Considering Keith isn't paying much attention to anything I do, and he's stressfully latching onto that cigarette like his sanity depends on it, I've been pulling it out and taking small sips when the coast seemed clear...

Which is more times than not.

I keep going. More. More. I need to forget all this, I need to forget him. I need to get him away from me so I don't hurt him or worse. This is the hardest thing to try and execute, because I've already fallen. I've fallen hard for Keith in such a small amount of time! I don't even know what to do.

Every part of me wants to be with him, but I'm so fucking scared of what'll happen if and when my father finds out that I'm not straight. Just another thing to add to his resume of disappointments and just another reason to punch me harder and slam my head into the concrete in an attempt to get those thoughts out of my head.

But he can't slam them out of my head. I don't need to think about it. He's targeting the wrong vital organ, because a brain can't control who I like, that's a task only my heart can take on. 

But sometimes I wonder if my hearts strong enough to take the pain... 

><><><><><><><><

I'm still on edge, if it isn't obvious enough by the cigarette residing in its new place of residence. I can't stop thinking, my head is racing and pounding. At this point, pounding my head into a brick wall would be less painful than my newfound confusion for Lotor and recurring incertitude for Lance. 

At this point, I don't know how to deal with it.

However, despite my resentment for speaking I know I have to talk to Lance sooner or later. Maybe I rushed him. I might be gay but he's just figuring out his sexuality, so maybe I scared him... or he was joking! I don't know! Why the fuck would he joke about something like that?!

Breathe Keith... chill out. Just talk to him like a normal person. Tell him what you want to tell him and leave it at that.

I take a deep breath, breathing in clear skies and blowing out grey. The numerous things I could say right now rattle in my mind, racing to be that special question with the opportunity to surpass my lips. It's the matter of finding and wording the right question that stifles me.

But I bite the crimson bullet. No more thinking. Just talk to him.

"You know how you kept yelling at me about assumptions?" He blinks a few times but I only stole a glance, attempting to give him the impression that the question was random and thoughtless. 

"Yeah..." Lance replies hesitantly.

"Well I've been thinking about that." I say. My voice trailing off as I think through what I'm about to say. I'm hoping this will make him happy... or at least give him a reason not to hate me. 

So what if he kissed me first. He was drunk and I couldn't help myself. Maybe I took advantage of him? 

"What do you mean you've been thinking about it? It's pretty straightforward." He answers nonchalantly, leaning towards the window. Wisps of hair flew in his face as he closed his eyes, probably wishing for the cigarette back. 

"I want to stop judging... and I'm really trying but..." My grip tightens on the steering wheel as I try to explain. What am I explaining exactly? Lance's eyes open and he lazily glances in my direction with a small mischievous smile.

"But?" He inquires and my face heats up. His voice is so deep. 

"What would you do if someone who everyone tried to convince was toxic to you, decided to show their face again and pretend like nothing's changed?" I breathe out. Why would I change the conversation to this? How petty can I be. Lance rolls his hand in a 'go-on' motion but my throats dry, I don't know why I chose to ask Lance of all people about this.

"I need a little more than that. Give me an example." 

"Umm... say... you were in a relationship with someone for a while but he... or she! hurt you in ways that you couldn't really understand at the time, but they still told you that they loved you. What would you do if they came back?" Lance's eyes seemed glossy when I ask this. His gaze grew distant and I felt like I'd fucked up. 

He sat up a little straighter and his face felt more serious. He looked at me, eyes still glazed but not as much as they were initially. 

"Keith. Who hurt you?" He asks, reaching out to grab my hand but I pulled it away. I can't get attached. He doesn't want me! So why is he asking like he's going to murder someone?

"No one! Never mind... forget I asked." I snap but he doesn't seem too affected. He just leans back in his seat and looks back out the window. In his reflection, I can tell he looks distant, like he's trapped in a dream or memory. 

"Leave." 

"What?" 

"I would probably leave them. If someone hurts you then they don't love you. I would leave and find people who actually care about me." I turn to him and Lance looks directly in my eyes. The passion radiates off of him in waves and my heart almost melts at the sentiment. Lance is loyal, loyalty can be a good trait to have.

"But what if-" He shushes me.

"Nope." He smiles a little and I smile back weakly. His cheeks seem redder... 

I turn back towards the road, taking a turn before Lance's phone pings a few more times. I noticed it before but I didn't think too much of it. The subtle glance at Lance's posture said otherwise and something was telling me that he knew who was texting, despite not looking at the screen.

"Do I need to take you home?" I ask, attempting to change the subject but he shakes his head.

"No." 

"Um... you can stay with me then... I guess." His eyes widen and he answers anxiously, his initial surprise driving the sagaciousness in his tone. 

"Only if you want me to." He asks, trying to reinforce any doubt I have at letting him stay over, especially after everything that's happened tonight.

"Yeah... it'd be fine." The space falls to silence again... a few more pings. 

"Lance?" I begin to question but he cuts me off with a voice so monotone it sends shivers down my spine and not in a good way.

"I don't want to read them." He seems to curl in on himself but I shake my head quickly to reassure him that I wasn't going to say that. I was but now I don't think that's the best thing to say to get him to hate me less.

"That's not what I was going to say." His eyes widen and he looks apologetic about the 'outburst' but quickly picks himself back up and throws that smile on his face again.

That clearly painful smile.

"Oh... sorry... go on." I keep my eyes on the road, face devoid of feeling and grip vice-like. This is a big change and consulting Lance in something like this can either make or break my dedication. I know it's natural for humans to judge and I don't intend on not judging anyone because judgement can save your life and it's definitely saved mine.  

I just think it's time to start putting a little more trust in Lance. Just like he's putting more trust in me. 

"I want to stop judging." I blurt out.

"I know... you already said that-" he chuckles awkwardly as the words tumble out of his mouth but I cut him off so I can finish. 

"I want to stop judging you." 

"Oh?" he replies cockily. 

"Umm... let me use an analogy." He nods, waiting for me to elaborate. I think of things to compare and I find myself at the books comparison again. I don't know what's drawing me to this example but I give it a shot.

"When I walk into a library... I usually read the summary and title before checking out the book. The cover could be plain yellow or covered in meme stickers but it wouldn't matter to me." Lance starts laughing and jumps in with a comment of his own. 

"Meme stickers?" 

"Just go with it." I giggle behind red cheeks and continue.

"But it's harder with people. They don't have a summary printed on their skin. Their title is their name but that doesn't help me figure out who they are and what they're like. People only show their covers at first glance." I pause before continuing again, a little more cautious this time.

"I don't want to judge you by your cover Lance... but that's all you're letting me see." I look over at Lance, hands sweating and shaking, contemplating if that was the right thing to say. His face looks like it's just been slapped by the dread of realization. He keeps quiet, I assume he's thinking about it, so I continue, tip toeing ever so carefully to avoid confrontation. 

"It would be nice to be given the chance to read it, learn who you are and what you're like..." I look back at the road with a sigh and inhale the smoke of the cigarette, blowing the tar-ridden vapor out the window. 

The things I said make me think. I could be doing the same things. Maybe he wants to see more of me? Maybe he just doesn't know how to approach me when it comes to topics about myself because he's afraid I'll blow up. I usually have a negative affect on people, so I guess a while back I just stopped trying. I stopped trying because no matter how much I tried I just kept getting hurt, and cutting everyone and everything off from my life gave me a sense of protection and reinforcement that made me feel like I wouldn't get hurt again. 

"Sorry... I'm tired. Just ignore my rambling." I apologize, still kind of dazed after delving deep into my thoughts. Lance is quick to jump in afterwards, but quietly and calm. Reassuringly. 

"No... it makes sense... in like a nerdy philosophical way." He jokes, probably trying to lighten the mood. 

"Yeah well, you are a nerd so I guess I'm not too far off." I grin, taking a right onto another dark path.

"Says the boy who likes Tokyo Ghoul. Ohhhh Kaneki~" Lance mimics in a seductive and lust ridden voice, I'm not going to admit just how hot that sounded. 

"Pff... says the boy who knows Kaneki's name and can do an adequate impression of Tsukiyama." His eyes widen and I laugh at the fact that I could expose him and his secret anime fantasies.

"Awww... you think I'm adequate." He smiles and puts his hands together batting his eyelashes. I roll my eyes and continue driving, not paying much attention to the pings or odd gulping sounds as I focus on the road. 

><><><><><><><><><><><

At this point Lance has drunk the flask dry, the vodka starting to take its effect. He's slurring and mumbling none-sensical gibberish, his filter practically deteriorating.

"You're like a big oreo!" Lance grins, moving his hands in front of his eyes to help his imagination visualize Keith as the cookie.

"Umm... What?" Keith questions, confused. Lance wasn't like this a few minutes ago, what the fuck going on? 

They're almost halfway there, Keith still too hesitant to go too quickly in the horrendous minivan. His grip is tight around the wheel, trees thick and luscious on either side of the car, however that doesn't reinforce the eery feeling the forest radiates under the heavy cover of midnight black. 

"An oreoooo! Like a giant human-sized oreo man... with a mullet." Lance throws that last part in for good measure. Keith wouldn't admit this aloud, but Lance's antics are adorable and it's taking everything in him not to laugh at how ridiculous Lance is acting right now. Another thing contributing to the lack of laughter is that this isn't normal 'fill the silence' giddiness.

"What makes me look like an Oreo Lance?" He asks, deciding to humor the loopy Cuban boy beside him.

"You're hair is the cookie, your skin is the cream, and your spandex is the other cookie." Keith's cheeks flair up at the comment, feeling Lance's eyes a little lower than he'd expect from normal Lance. 

"Since when do you stare at my ass?" Keith's hands are still gripping the wheel tightly, but the mixed senses in the atmosphere are putting him in an awkward position. He isn't sure whether to go along with Lance to make a sort of amends or whip out the breathalyzer. 

However, throughout Keith's contemplation, Lance completely disregarded anything Keith's said since the tingle came back, his vision grew blurry, and the sharp pain in his head had subsided. This resulted in Lance getting sucked into his own little world.  

"Wait... I guess your double stuffed then." He mumbles, more to himself than to Keith. Lance puts a finger to his lip in thought as Keith's eyes widen. He glances down at his stomach subconsciously, thanking any higher being that there are barely any cars on the backroads tonight.

"So you think I'm fat?" Keith questions, voice saturated in two forms of anxiety. The feeling of not being good enough and the feeling of questioning how he can become better. So Lance will see something in him that no one has before because for some odd reason Lance has surpassed more of his walls in such a small amount of time than anyone Keith's ever met. 

Despite how that might not seem like an accomplishment to Lance, it is peculiar and scary for Keith; but something about it seems thrilling. The wonder of figuring out how and when Lance can overcome Keith's other walls until he wanders all the way to his heart has Keith biting his lip in thought and anticipation. 

"Noooooo. You're just two oreos mashed together." Lance claps his hands together in front of his eyes, making them cross and surprising himself with the loud slapping sound that vibrated off his hands. A soft sign escapes Keith's lips as he flips the turn signal and begins making another right. 

"Damn Lance, how did you manage to get even more drunk?" Lance jumps up, excited and pulls out a flask from his coat pocket. He jiggles it in Keith's face and giggles, Keith pushing Lance's hand out of his face so he doesn't crash.

"Vodka in a flasssssk. Surprise!" Lance squeals, hugging the metallic container to his chest. The raven haired boy groans and runs a shakey hand through his hair, tugging at the ends in an attempt to remove even an ounce of stress. 

"Lance are you fucking kidding me? Where did you even get a flask?!" Keith raises his voice in annoyance but Lance doesn't pay any attention, veering off into his own little conversation from before. "But think 'bout it. You have your hair, skin, spandex, but then you also have your legs and converse. You're a double oreo! A siamese oreo if you will." Lance strokes and imaginary beard, mimicking some college professor from the late 1800s. Keith takes a deep breath to control his temper, trying his hardest not to rip the flask from Lance's cold-dead hands and yeet it out the window.  

"I think alcohol makes you brain dead." Keith grits between his teeth, keeping his storm cloud eyes on the road before him. 

"Keeeeeeith. Think 'bout it! Look how smart I am!" Lance whines. He might not be stupid, but he does stupid things sometimes. Stupid, stupid things. 

"I'm not an oreo Lance!" Keith yells, throwing his hands up but immediately puts them back on the steering wheel. "I think you're just hungry." His voice levels out. This all seems like some babysitting gig he didn't sign up for.

"Pfff... well yeah. Aside from that apple I haven't eaten anything in like... a week? I don't know." Keith's eyes widen in realization. God damnit that idiot. It was obvious something was up but Keith had to admit he felt somewhat guilty he hadn't noticed when Lance fought him on eating an apple, and would barely touch that tea from the other day at the coffeehouse. 

"A week? Lance that's not healthy! What the fuck?" 

"It's no big deal." He waves it off with his free hand, the other hand still holding the flask to his chest. He lifts it to his lips but pouts when nothing comes out. Keith on the other hand is trying his best not to slap Lance, then himself. 

"It's a huge deal! Doing something like that could kill you! And you're supposed to do football again this year and soccer-" Keith rambles, unaware of how much of a stalker he's sounding like, but Lance cuts him off. 

"Oooo you know soooo much about me Keithy boy." He bops Keith on the nose and his cheeks immediately flare up for several different reasons. 

"This isn't a joke Lance. You won't be able to do those things if you don't eat." Oddly enough, Keith can feel tears start to sting his eyes but he'll be damned if he lets Lance see him cry over this. It isn't that serious yet right? They aren't that serious. They're not serious at all. 

"Oh I eat. I just usually throw it up afterwards." Lance explains, nonchalantly like its the most normal thing for a teenager to be doing. Every part of Keith wants to stop this. He wants to hold Lance to his chest and ask why. Why is he doing this? What does he hate about himself so much that he'd want to do this to himself. Keith should have noticed the warning signs, glancing at Lance he notices just how skinny he really is while still having just enough muscle to trick the naked eye. 

"Lance that's purging! That's even worse!" Keith practically screams internally, but on the outside he tries his best to explain as calmly as he possibly can under the circumstances.

"Purging?" He questions in disbelief, a dash of humor lacing the single worded question. 

"It's when you force yourself to throw up after eating." Keith elucidates. 

"I know what purging is. I'm not that stupid." 

"Depending on how long this has been going on you could be anorexic." It's more of a whisper to himself but Lance picks up on it and starts cackling. 

"Pfff... I'm not skeleton Keith. I think I'd know if I were anor-whatever you said." He hiccups and Keith is in a state of disgust and worry. Lance has drunken himself raw, he didn't act like this when he was drunk before meaning he could react to anything in completely random ways. He could yell at a child for popping their balloon or crash someone's funeral and laugh the whole time.

"I'm done talking to you." Keith says coldly, focusing on the road and only the road till Lance says something that really makes him start ticking down. 

"Ohhh... classic Keith. You're just going to keep quiet in the corner, talking to no one like the loner you are." Lance mumbles under his breath but Keith can hear it like crystal. He's dangling from a thread and it is taking so much for Keith not to kick Lance out of the car and drive away.

"Shut up! You... you don't know what you're talking about." He tries to reason but Lance isn't giving up this argument any time soon. 

"Like I haven't heard that one before." He mutter's under his breath, eyes icy and dead. Keith abruptly pulls over, pulling the keys out of the ignition and throwing them in the backseat. The lit cigarette in his left hand is thrown onto the dash as he puts his fingers on the bridge of his nose to ease the tension and stop the passive-aggressive tears threatening to flow.  

"Lance, you're drunk." Keith says between grit teeth, keeping his eyes off of Lance. His voice is wobbly and it's taking the last piece of duck-tape to hold Keith together. He's so close to falling apart. 

"It's my life Keith. You can't tell me how to live my life so don't judge me." The voice is cold as Lance crosses his arms over his chest and turns dramatically to look out the window. "I'm not-" Keith tries to cut in but Lance whips around with fire in his eyes and starts throwing things at Keith, each word making him wince like the words are made of fire and each are being spit in his face. 

"Yes you are! I don't judge you for brooding all the time or dressing like a slut for some stupid party!" Keith stays silent with his hands in his hair, knees slowly climbing to his chest. "Or when you sit alone at the coffeehouse and cry when things don't go your way! Do you know how pathetic that looks? At least cry in private or try not crying at all, although that might not be possible for you." Every part of Keith is trying to hold on, it is taking everything. His fingers are woven so tightly through his thick hair that he's starting to uproot some strands. His teeth could crack under the pressure and his eyes are screwed shut, breathing beginning to increase. Flashes of arguments with Lotor are surfacing and Keith is losing his grip on himself.

"And I don't judge you when you jump off bridges and cut up your arms like some psychotic nutcase!" Lance roughly grabs Keith's arm, digging his nails into the skin harsh enough to draw blood and pulls up the sleeve, putting Keith's scars and fresh wounds on display. That's the last straw for Keith as a harsh slap echoes through the dormant vehicle. 

Keith's eyes are overflowing with tears and he's curled in on himself, holding his exposed arm to his chest. "Don't fucking touch me! Stop... stop touching me!" He's hysterical, rocking and breathing at a rate of near hyperventilation. Aside from Keith's breathing and sobs the car is silent. 

Everything to Lance seems inaudible. He's frozen. His hands is over his cheek, atop the red hand-mark Keith left behind that's sure to bruise. His eyes start to gloss but no tears slip, crying has just become too foreign for him after all these year, but the pressure on his chest is pinching tighter and tighter. 

Lance doesn't deserve him after all he's put him through tonight. He broke him. He's finally broken the infamous Keith Kogane... and he feels horrible about it. 

Keith is still in hysterics, pulling out clumps of hair and flooding the driver's seat with tears. Lance has to calm him down before he passes out. He crawls closer and starts talking to Keith trying to calm him down.

"You're ok Keith! Nothing's going to hurt you. I won't hurt you I promise. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Lance is full on hugging Keith now, burying himself in the crook of Keith's neck. Keith's hair tickles Lance's nose as the scent of coconut wafts into his nostrils, which calms Lance down and seems to bring him back to his senses somewhat. 

Keith's sniffles subside and he starts to calm down but when Lance hugs a little tighter, Keith pushes him back roughly and exits the car. Lance doesn't follow.

He's in shock. 

><><><><><><><><

Keith gets out of the car after and slams the door shut, the cigarette between his fingers as he slumps down into the dirt. His back is propped up against the side of the car, lit cigarette in his hand and salty tears drying on his cheeks underneath new droplets. 

He's sitting on the ground in the middle of nowhere, struggling for the first time in a while about making the pain go away one of the only ways he knows how; contemplating if he should burn himself or not with the rest of this otherwise useless cancer stick. 

What would Lance think? Would he think of weakness in the desire to harm or would he just give that disappointed look? He's already seen the scars and cuts and bruises, so what would it matter now. Keith ends up pressing it against his skin where Lance's thumb dug into his arm during his drunken rage.

Tears leak from his eyes but he doesn't make a sound, keeping the cigarette there until it completely dies, pushing harder and harder despite the pressure not being able to make a difference after a certain point. The tears flow heavier but after a while, he discards the dead cigarette amongst a grave of others on the dingy roadside. 

Keith sits on the ground a little longer, looking up in hope to see stars when all he's met with are storm clouds. He's alone. A shiver runs ups his spine as he pulls his sleeve down again, deciding that ignoring Lance in favor of a warm blanket would be worth it.

His fingers wrap around the handle of the door for the backseat, opening up invitingly in preparation for the blanket search and Lance avoidance plan. He climbs in and finds a fuzzy blanket in the trunk, pulling it up over the seat cushion and wrapping it around himself so he can wipe away thick teardrops and hide away for a little, looking out the window at nothing in particular. 

After a moment Lance sighs and speaks up, twisting himself around in his seat to get a clear view of Keith as he watches the very few cars pass by and trees sway in the pre-storm wind.

"I'm sorry." Lance murmurs, but Keith doesn't react so Lance keeps going. 

"I just didn't think you noticed anything about me. Let alone something I don't even want to come to terms with myself. I didn't mean to say those things about you. It was just... self-defense I guess." He explains. Keith keeps his salt-soaked eyes on the road but after that he couldn't keep ignoring Lance. 

It had only been about five minutes and he couldn't bare ignoring him anymore. Five minutes. How hopeless could one person get. 

"You were right though. You're always fucking right." Keith grits through his teeth, cheeks and eyes red from the tears, seemingly bloodshot. 

"I'm not though! I'm stupid! I was just being stupid!" Lance rambles, bashing and beating himself up over it. Going on and on but Keith can't take it, despite how much Lance hurt him in only a few seconds, something in Keith couldn't bare to see Lance this distraught.

"I don't think you're stupid!" There's a long, piercing silence, deadly and thick. It's venomous as neither of them breathe, neither move, like the poison's already infiltrated their bloodstreams.

Lance... school Lance says dumb things. He can say really dumb things but I think drunk Lance takes the cake. When Keith talks to these Lances, he wants to throw himself into a volcano; but when he manages to catch a glimpse of the real Lance, the Lance that smokes cigarettes and plays rummy with the sad gay kid, all Keith want's to do is scream. 

Keith wants to scream. He wants to scream for someone other than himself, and that feeling is a scary feeling to have because that means he's opening himself up to Lance; stripping himself to the barest of vulnerabilities and giving Lance all of him. His emotions, his past, his thoughts and desires, his body...

Everything.

Lance is breaking him. And it hurts because curiosity is allowing this train to stop and take Keith somewhere he didn't know he could go. He's becoming curious, curious to know if the pain will morph into a sort of permanent happiness his cuts and scars can't produce. Can Lance McClain really be the cure to all this pain?

Or will he be the trojan cause.

"I'm just drunk... I'm sorry I didn't mean to I just..." At this point Keith had to shut him up, but he did so breathlessly. 

"Lance..." Keith whispers tiredly, taking a deep breath in preparation for what's about to be said... what needs to be said. "Do you seriously think I don't notice the shit job you do when it comes to taking care of yourself? I had to force you to take a bite out of one fucking apple, and aside from that apple the only other thing I've seen you eat since we've started talking is the nicotine in your cigarettes." Lance stays silent, giving Keith the chance to vent like he just did,  albeit not as harsh in Keith's opinion, but painful in a truthful and sincere sense. A sense of acceptance, sense of understanding. "You only drink liquids and even then you look at the cup like you're about to swallow sins."

"You try so hard to fit in with people everyday at school, in public, anywhere strangers can see you! Do you ever get tired of faking? Pretending you're ok?" Keith's volume raises with each sentence making Lance flinch back, but in his head he knows he deserves every part of it.

"Ok... I get it Keith..." Lance mumbles.

"And you lie all the time because you're scared of getting people hurt right?! And letting people in!?" 

"You wouldn't understand." Goddammit just shut up Lance. Just shut your goddamn mouth for once! He didn't mean to say that! That's not what he wanted to say! Just take it back! 

"I wouldn't understand?" Keith coughs like he's just heard him wrong, Lance only wishes.  

"God. How did I fall for such a fucking asshole?" He laughs bitterly, but Lance perks up a bit. Keith likes him back? 

"I really do have shit luck with my feelings don't I?" Keith starts laughing to himself painfully, each one drawing more tears with an unstable smile on his face. His hands are tense and draped across his features in a poor attempt to cover up the look of instablilty and hopelessness.

"Keith just shut up! Just stop!" Lance pleads but Keith doesn't listen. It seems like payback in a way, giving Lance a taste of what he served earlier. 

"But you dont care do you? You never really cared! I'm just your problem!" Keith curls in on himself again, putting his head between his knees as his tears stain the blanket and burn his eyes. 

"No you're not! You're not the problem! I just can't process things! It's all just too hard right now that without the alcohol I can't... I can't... Oh god." Lance looks at his hands as they shake in fear. God. God no. The realization hits him fast and it makes his heart sink. 

He's acting just like his father. 

The excessive need for alcohol as a vital necessity to live, the lust for it. The harsh words that were never meant to be said and the rough physical contact, when his nails dug into Keith's arm.  He's a monster, he's disgusting... he's his father. 

"Without the alcohol life seems unfathomable. You wouldn't know how it feels to be constantly put down even when I do everything I can to be perfect. I work everyday after school, and I tutor, and I play sports, and I do whatever other things time has confined me to with its filthy chains but it's still not good enough for him! You wouldn't know what it's like to pretend every day!" No! I can't be him! I can't... I can't! I don't want to be like him! Just shut up Lance! Shut the fuck up!

For him? Who is telling Lance these things? Who is 'he'?

"Yes I fucking would! I've been abused before Lance! I pretend I'm ok around Hunk and Pidge and Shiro and even you most of the time! And I lie too! I lie all the time!" Keith yells in frustration. Clearly we've come to that uncrossable line tonight, all that's left is Keith's side. 

"What are you even talking about!?" The alcohol still sloshing around in his stomach is still making things a little loopy but he has enough sense to bite back most of the venom he feels is about to spill from his mouth in an unforgiving quantity.

"I lie because I'm scared, and I used to starve myself to the point where I couldn't believe I was even alive! I didn't look alive, not even on the inside. That was torture Lance!" Keith looked directly into Lance's eyes at that last sentence, pouring every last emotion he has into what he was saying. All his strength is going towards this confession. Violent, pent up emotions are surfacing and he's drowning the both of them.

"Keith..." 

"I hurt myself physically and mentally everyday... and in all honestly I never cared about what would happen to me, I still don't. If I end up dead on the side of the road I know no one will care!" Keith wipes the tears gathering around his eyes as Lance tries to console Keith the best way he can think of.

"Don't say that-" Lance starts but is immediately interrupted. 

"Why, because it's true? Look at me and tell me what you see! Because every time I look in the mirror all I see is a black mark on this Earth, a fucking mistake." His eyes are almost completely red. Tears are streaked down his cheeks and his lips are tender from abusing them with his teeth. Lance doesn't even know what to say. He's so shocked by this whole car ride that the question isn't registering in his mind. 

"Exactly." There's a long pause after Keith realizes he was right. He knew he was right but that's the first time he's said it aloud. The realization is making him shake; and to think, Lance saved him from jumping off the bridge for all this crap? 

"So many things scare me Lance. I'll admit I'm afraid of a lot of things. But the only thing that terrifies me is that we're so similar." Lance's brows pinch in confusions.

"Similar?" 

"I'm terrified that you're going to do something irreversible. Not on purpose... but purging is deadly, trust me when I tell you that. I knew so many good people who died because of it or didn't come out of the hospital the same." He leans his head on the window, not wanting Lance to see him this distraught state anymore. He hates feeling helpless, he hates this vulnerability but what else can he do? He owes Lance this, he wants to trust Lance with this. He wants to help him. And this is the best way he can get him to understand.

Lance worries his lip, eyes glued to Keith's shaking figure. Keith is trying to tell him about what's dangerous like he didn't just see Keith's lacerated arms first hand. He takes a deep breath and sighs, opening his eyes and drawing on a smile for Keith. 

"I won't end up in a hospital Keith. There's nothing wrong with me! Look I'm fine. I'm happy and smiling-" Keith jerked at that, whipping around from his spot on the window and leaning closer, eyes filled with frustration.

"You're not happy if you practice your smile in the mirror every morning!" Lance's smile falters but he keeps it up to try and persuade Keith, and himself.

"Stop joking around Red. I'm fi-" Lance attempts but Keith isn't having anymore of this bullshit. 

"God damnit Lance! If you say you're fine one more time I will walk out of this god damn car right now and throw myself into oncoming traffic. Don't test me." Lance's mouth snapped shut, his fake smile disappearing entirely. 

There's another pause as the car falls silent, neither of them are looking at one another. Instead they are stuck in their own worlds of thought, until Keith's whisper of a sentence is uttered. 

"I... I know Hunk and Pidge don't want anything bad to happen to you and I don't-" Keith's voice breaks. At the foreign sound Lance's heart feels like it's shattering, "I wouldn't be able to function if you ended up just leaving us... leaving me behind."Keith's voice breaks again but this time it's followed by the slam of Lance's door as he exits the car. 

He left, he just left. He doesn't want to be around him anymore so he left? Keith curls in on himself, keeping his eyes closed and arms wrapped tightly around him, panic beginning to settle in. Where is he going? Is he going to come back? Nevertheless, the worry subsides when the backseat door across from him opens and closes. 

The reassurance covers him in a warm overlay of relief, a blanket in the form of Lance's warm arms wrap around him, making him flinch and tense but lean into the touch nevertheless; crying even harder into Lance's chest. Lance gently plays around with Keith's hair, letting Keith mold into him as he hugs tighter. They're alone, it's ok to cry. Keith can cry, he can let it all out because Lance is there for him, Lance will protect him no matter the circumstances, he will be there for Keith no matter how it wounds him in the end. 

After a while, Lance gently cradles Keith's head in his hands and tilts his head up to look at him.

"Keith look at me." Keith wills his eyes open, looking up at Lance as he begins to speak.

"You're strong, beautiful and fiercely loyal. You might have scars but everyone does, that doesn't deter from the fact that you are perfectly you." Keith's mouth is agape as silent tears begin to flow again. Lance smiles at him and continues. 

"You may have scrapes and bruises, and your mental state might be knocked off balance, but you believe me when I tell you that there is nothing wrong with who you are. Nothing." Keith searches Lance's eyes for any bit of doubt in what he just confessed but finds nothing. His eyes overflow with tears as he buries his head into Lance's chest, balling his fists into his t-shirt. 

Lance winces but other than that he's perfectly content with Keith wrapped in his arms, if only they didn't have to worry about all the complications in their life. They could be happy.

Keith struggles to take in air, opting for short gasps as he keeps shaking. He's trying his hardest to steady the crying but ends up starting to tear up again when Lance begins petting his head, playing with his hair carefully, mumbling sweet nothings into the stale air, trying to soothe him. Lance is really trying and he isn't judging. Keith appreciates it, more than he could ever admit.

A few minutes feel like an eternity and after a little more time he's finally calm enough to reply to what Lance's said. 

"If I'm worth so much then why do people keep leaving?" Lance's mouth drops a little and his brows furrow as he looks down at the broken boy in his lap. Keith's fists are still balled into his shirt as he lifts his head from Lance's side and leans his forehead on his chest, fists shaking as he utters something he hasn't been able to admit to himself.

"I'm just so tired of being alone, Lance..."

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Hey guys! It's been a while. So this is my first time doing 3rd person POV in this book and I'm not that good at it yet but I wanted to know if you guys want to see me do it more?

Was it good? Please leave comments and don't worry the book is going to pick up so much faster now! See you guys soon!