Spilled Milk

IV

    “Why don't you?” Keith murmured softly.
    Oh. Fuck. No. He wasn't going to tell him. Not yet anyways.
    “I just don't think you should go out with her if you're not into her.”
    “It's only one date. And not even a serious one.” Keith sighed softly. “And I really doubt there will be a second date.”
    “Just… Don't force yourself to date her.” Lance sighed. “It'll fuck you both up.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “If you force yourself to date her, to her, she'll think she's unlovable.”
    “What? People don't think that way.”
    “Yes. They do.”
    “Why would it mess me up?”
    “Forcing yourself to be uncomfortable. It really bugs you.”
    “Have you ever forced yourself to date someone before?”
    “Yeah, back home.” Lance said softly.
    “And it messed with you?”
    “It put me in a really negative headspace for a while.”
    “I'm surprised you know the word ‘headspace’.” Keith joked.
    “Well— I—” Lance fumbled over words, trying to think of a comeback. “I'm surprised you have a mullet in the twenty first century.”
    “It's not a mullet.” He said calmly, flipping his page.
    “It is. Do you even know what a mullet even is?”
    “No but, I'm sure it's offensive.”
    “It isn't because you have one.” Lance murmured as he googled ‘Billy Ray Cyrus’ and showed the images to Keith. “That's what you have.”
    “I do not!” He protested, once more closing his book. He cursed and reopened it immediately, he hadn't marked his page. He found his page and put in the bookmark. “My hair is much cleaner than that.”
    “Not really.” Lance laughed. “When was the last time you showered?”
    “I… I don't know.”
    “You don't know?”
    “I don't.” He mumbled.
    “Dude. You're supposed to at like every pit stop.”
    “What? Why?”
    “Well, you're a grease-ball. You kind of smell. Your face has dirt on it.”
    “Oh.” He smelled his dress shirt. Ew. Ew. Ew. He smelled disgusting. When he was growing up he didn't shower every day; they didn't have enough water to. He just was used to only showering when he had to.
    “You're not in the desert anymore Keith. You need to shower. It's really bad for your body and shit.”
    “I didn't know… I'll shower at the next stop.”
    “I didn't mean to upset you.”
    “You didn't.”

It was a long while before they started moving again. And by the time they did Lance had fallen asleep. Keith finished his book. And everyone else was starving. They had snacks on board but nothing much. They decided to stop at a grocery store in Tennessee. Shiro woke up Lance and made him go inside with him. Them, Hunk, and Pidge went in to get some snacks. And a new book for Keith per his request.
    Stevie plopped down beside him. His gaze was fixated on the bottom of the bunk above him. It didn't move.
    “Where are we going on our date?”
    “I don't know yet.” Keith said flatly.
    “Do you want to go on this date with me?”
    He looked over to her then. “I told you one date, didn't I?”
    She smiled in only the way Keith describe as like a loon.
    “Only one.” Keith said firmly. As if she were an animal or a child who needed reprimanded.
    “Alright.” She smiled. She stayed put, sitting next to him still. Keith did his best not to ask why. They sat in an awkward silence for a long while until Lance and the others came back. Lance plopped down on the other side of Keith and handed him a book. The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton. Keith had heard of this but had never read it before.
    “Thanks.” He smiled at him as he took it and read the back cover.
    “I had to read it in school. I actually really loved it. I got the movie too, so we can watch it when you finish.” Lance smiled sweetly. Stevie slowly edged off the bed and back to the others.
    Keith didn't notice.
    “You can read?” He teased.
    “Yeah, probably better than you.” He smirked back.
    “Doubtful.” Keith opened the book and began to read it.
    When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home.
    Keith squinted. He didn't know who “Paul Newman” was, but he figured it didn't matter much.
    He read for a long while, getting to chapter four. Right after Johnny killed Bob. He fell asleep while reading, book in hand while he sprawled out on the bed. Lance took the book and put the bookmark in it before covering him with a blanket.
    They all stopped for dinner in Kentucky. Shiro shook Keith’s leg to wake him up when they got to the restaurant. A small Italian restaurant, just a Ma-and-Pa shop. Keith took the book inside with him, reading it as they were shown to a table. His eyes got really big all of a sudden and he looked up to Lance.
    “Johnny killed a kid?” He whispered. Lance nodded with a smile. “But he's so—”
    “Let's order our food and stuff first, then you can yell at Lance for giving you such a traumatic book.” Shiro chuckled.
    “What? Why is it traumatic?” He asked. “Who dies?”
    “I don't remember. Haven't read it in years.” Shiro smirked. Keith frowned, he so knew who died. Reluctantly he closed his book and they all ordered. Roadies sat separately. So did Pidge and Hunk. They sat with Shay, their percussionist.
    As they ate they held a conversation about the tour so far, and what they thought they should do next. To get even bigger.
    Lance, as they ate, rested his leg against Keith’s. The ravenette looked up to him. He just smiled and continued his sentence to Shiro.
    Keith pressed his leg into his only slightly. Just the small touch was enough to make his ears red.
    “What about you Keith?” Shiro said softly. That's what brought him out of his haze. He hadn't been paying attention to the conversation anymore.
    “What about me?” He asked meekly.
    “Do you miss home at all?” Shiro smiled.
    “No, not really. Sometimes but not to the point where I actually consider going home.” He shrugged. “I don't remember much about it actually.”
    “Aren't you from Japan too?”
    “Yes but I'm biracial. My father was American and my mother was Japanese.” Hence the name Keith Akira Kogane.
    “I am too, actually.” Shiro grinned. “My mother was German and my father was Japanese. Grew up in Japan.” Shirogane Takashi. Made since. He looked kind of German. Just his jawline and his build. It made sense.
    “I'm just Cuban.” Lance chuckled. “I miss home a lot.”
    “Are your parents Cuban?” Shiro asked softly.
    “Yeah,” Lance was adopted. “They both are.”
    “Are your siblings adopted too?”
    “No. Not all of them. Lola was and I was. I think we’re the only ones.” Lance said past a big bite of lasagna.
    Keith ate quietly, listening.
    “Do you have any siblings?” Lance asked, looking between them both.
    “Two younger.” Shiro grinned. “A lot younger though. They were born my senior year.”
    “I don't think I do.” Keith said softly. “I might, I don't remember much about my family either.”
    “Oh, that’s right.” Lance said softly. He forgot that Keith didn’t remember much before being a manager. And it really was that he didn’t remember, not just a ruse to get out of sharing his emotions. He wasn’t against sharing his emotions, he was against bothering people with them.
    “Are we getting dessert?” Keith asked then.
    “Sure.” Shiro grinned, handing him a menu.
    “Okay, there is something I miss about home.” Keith said as he read through the different cake options. “The candies.”

    The three boys ended up getting a tiramisu and sharing it, as it was huge as all hell. Lance and Keith often fought over bites of it. Lance even grabbed Keith’s wrist and put his fork in his own mouth. After they had paid they all scurried back to the bus and their cars to head toward their last stop, a hotel in Columbus. Hyatt Regency Hotel. It was connected to the convention center.
Shiro and Pidge got a room, Shay and Hunk got a room, and Keith and Lance got a room.
Keith took a shower as soon as they arrived, as Lance had asked of him. They didn’t usually stay in hotels during shows but he had three back to back here in Ohio and the hotel had offered. Keith came out in a t-shirt and pajama pants. Lance flushed deep red, he had never seen him like that before.
“Are you showering too or should I turn off the light?” He asked past his toothbrush, spitting out his paste and rinsing out his mouth.
“I’ll take one.” Lance murmured, rubbing his cheeks and gathering clean clothes from a bag off the floor. Quickly he scurried off to the bathroom and shut the door behind him, he sang as he bathed. Keith smiled to himself and climbed into the bed on the right of the room. He pushed up the sleeves of his “SPACE BOY” t-shirt and grabbed his book. He read even after Lance came out and lied down. Keith turned on his side table lamp and let Lance turn off the main overhead light. He read to chapter nine.

I barely heard him. I came closer and leaned over to hear what he was going to say. “Stay gold, Ponyboy. Stay gold…” The pillow seemed to sink and little and Johnny died.
You read about people looking peacefully asleep when they’re dead, but they don’t. Johnny just looked dead. Like a candle with the flame gone.

Keith looked up at Lance’s sleeping form, his jaw slack and his cheeks wet. Johnny couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t. He refused to accept it, so he kept reading.
Tears still running down his face he finished the page and moved on to the next chapter. He swallowed as he read. No. No. No, no, no.

He was jerked half around by the impact of the bullets, then slowly crumpled with a look of grim triumph on his face. He was dead before he hit the ground.

Keith cried harder and got out of his bed, hitting Lance’s leg with the book but not without unmarking his spot. “Wake up.” He growled shakily. “Get up!”
Lance groaned and sat up, looking up to his manager. Keith’s eyes were red and puffy, tears stained his cheeks. “Keith, what’s wrong? He asked groggily, making room in his bed for Keith to join him. Reluctantly the smaller man climbed into his bed with him.
“J-Johnny and Dally— They’re both dead.” He whimpered as Lance pulled the blanket over Keith’s lap. He pulled him into his arms and held him close.
“Did you finish the book?” Lance whispered as he rubbed his side.
“No.” He murmured, reluctantly he reopened the book. He was silent as he leaned into Lance’s chest and finished the book. “I hate the ending.” He huffed, still crying as he leaned into his chest further.
After a while Keith fell quiet, calm. Lance glanced down to see if he was still awake. He was. Gently he rubbed away his tears with his thumbs. He smiled slightly then.
“Your eyes are purple.” Lance whispered. “Lilac, really.”
“Yours are like the sky in the morning when you first wake up.”
    Lance smiled and cupped his cheek gently. He leaned closer for a second then stopped. Keith was still wide eyed, his ears were a deep scarlet.
    “I'm sorry.” Lance whispered. “Y-You might have a girlfriend soon— I'm sorry.”
    “Lance, do you like me?” Keith hesitantly whispered and cupped his cheeks in return.
    “I-I do.” He whispered.
    Keith pulled him closer and pressed their lips together. Lance’s eyes stayed wide for a long moment before closing. He pulled him closer and kissed him deeper.
    They both kissed softly but tenderly for a long time until they both fell asleep in the same bed.

    Keith woke up in the morning when the alarm went off. He groaned and rubbed his eyes before clicking it off. He looked around for a moment before it hit him. He kissed Lance last night. He got out of bed and changed into a pair of jeans before waking up Lance by shaking his shoulder.
    He whined and smiled up at him. “Morning.”
    “Morning.” Keith smiled quietly. “Time to get up.” He said as he put on his gloves.
    Lance threw his legs over the side of the bed and got up to get dressed.
    “So, about last night…” Lance began.
    “I still have to take her on that date. After that I'm all yours.” Keith smiled and took his hands for a moment, kissing his cheek.
    “I already announced I was asking a fan on a date.”