Hearts Don't Break Around Here = KLANCE ✓

Chapter Two : Honey Nut Cheerios

"Shit.” Keith hisses as his hand twitches, causing the razor to skid down slightly and knick him near his chin. “Fuck.” He literally cuts himself every single time he attempts to shave his face. It’s not like he has much to shave anyway, but sometimes he can see his skin attempting to do something that remotely resembles hair and there's no way it’ll grow out to look decent, so he shaves it as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, it doesn't happen very often, so he’s a little out of practice. And if there’s one thing that Lance knows about him that nobody else does, it’s that he’s squeamish as fuck, and hates the sight of blood.

He sees a small stream start to trickle down his wet chin, mixing with the water and making it look like there is more than there actually is. The sight of it makes his stomach turn, creating a queasy, unsettled feeling in the pit of his gut. Ugh. “Lance?” He calls from the bathroom. No answer. Oh man, he’s not feeling too hot. “Lance?” He asks again, much more panicked. He sees a droplet of blood fall and hit the corner of the sink. Ew. ew ew ew. Oh man, is it hot in here? He presses a small piece of toilet paper onto the cut to try and stop the bleeding, but the blood soaks through and Keith feels it on his fingers. “Lance!”

“What do you want?” Lance calls lazily from the living room.

Keith swallows, covering his eyes with his free hand. “I’m bleeding.”

“Again?”

“Yes, again , you asshole.”

“Just do the toilet paper thing.”

“It’s not working!”

“You’re probably doing it wrong!”

The queasy feeling intensifies. Keith groans in frustration. “Lance, come on .”

A loud, exhausted sigh comes from the living room and Lance walks into the cramped bathroom, crossing his arms and looking down at Keith. He looks like he’s trying not to laugh. “Keith, seriously? That’s got to be the smallest cut yet.”

Keith scowls. “It won’t stop bleeding.”

“One sec.” Lance sighs, leaving the bathroom and coming back with a tube of chapstick. He knocks Keith’s hand out of the way with his fingers. “I knew you were doing it wrong. You’ve really gotta push it into the cut--”

Keith shuts his eyes, groaning. “Ew, stop. Please.”

Lance chuckles. “Alright, hold still.” He reaches forward and scraps the bloody piece of toilet paper. Keith can feel the blood near his chin collecting again, getting ready to drip down. Lance sighs. “Jeez, Keith. How do you always manage to do this to yourself?”

“Please just hurry up and cover it.” Keith mumbles, having a million rebuttal argument but letting them die on the tip of his tongue. Lance is helping him, after all. Lance blots his chin a few times with a paper towel and then puts some chapstick on the tip of his index finger. “My dad taught me this trick.” He says. “To stop the bleeding.” He presses his finger to the cut, covering it with chapstick. It stings but Keith refuses to let Lance know that. Lance holds his face by the chin and then tilts it to the side, leaning in and examining the small cut critically. His face melts into an easy smile.

“There. See? All better.” He says, a little condescendingly, sending Keith a smug grin. “Want me to kiss it too?”

Keith scowls further. “Go away.”

“You’re welcome!” Lance calls behind him as he saunters back into the living room. Keith sighs, wiping the counter down before following Lance, flopping down on the couch next to him and staring at the wall where a TV should be. They keep meaning to get one, but every time they look at them online, they end up finding something else they want more. Like an expensive rice cooker. Or a Soda Stream. Or some other useless junk that their kitchen doesn’t have any room for.