We're Going Home

5

Graveyard Whistling ~Nothing But Thieves

Hey,

I danced a week ago. I don't know. Having Keith there made it seem like it was worth it to dance for once. It's strange what people can do to you. I'm too tired to dance anymore, but if he asked me to-

I think I'd find the strength.

Lance stood in the bathroom in front of the mirror. Hunk had snuck him a razor and was now supervising his use of it. Lance meticulously shaved. As soon as his jawline and cheeks were rid of the horrible mass that had haunted him Lance felt a bit of a weight lift off his chest. He knew this man better, and yet it was still strange. He thought that without the small hairs blooming from his face he'd see someone he knew. He had a better idea of who this was, but it wasn't close enough to who he was looking for.

Lance became a recluse again for a while, but still spent nights in Keith's room. As he did it seemed that he was reviving a bit, though not entirely. Neither spoke to each other for about a solid week. Though, it can't be told whether they were embarrassed or Keith could sense that Lance just wasn't in the mood. It took every ounce of him to even leave his room. He sat across Keith in uncomfortable silence. Lance could hear Keith open his mouth a few times only to close it.

Lance was eating normally, which was an improvement as compared to days before. He only ate a little, but it was more than bread.

Keith felt this odd aching in his chest. He kept thinking about the way Lance had been dancing. The way he moved was so smooth. Keith couldn't admit it, but the entire time his eyes had been on Lance.

Some part of Keith was telling him that it was more than just a goofy dance. Lance didn't just dance anymore. He looked exhausted all the time. Even before he started dancing he had. So why had he used all of his energy just to dance with Keith? What was it worth it?

Following this train of thought, he opened his mouth again, this time with resolve. "About last week..."

Lance looked up, the bags under his eyes painfully prominent. "Yes? What about it?"

"Why?" His hands were folded on the table, he was looking anywhere but Lance. Because maybe he was over-thinking it. Maybe it meant absolutely nothing. Keith wasn't sure what scared him more, it meaning nothing or something. On one hand, he didn't have to feel anything. He didn't have to search himself for something he couldn't be sure was there. But if it was something, and Lance felt nothing... what then?

He wouldn't admit that he'd peeked at Keith's Diary. That would give Keith a right to peek at his, and he definitely didn't want that. So, Lance wouldn't tell him that in order for Keith to teach him to love dancing again he'd have to know how to dance himself. He didn't know what to say. "Don't overthink it, Halfling."

"What's that supposed to mean?!" Keith asked angrily. Mullet made sense, he had a mullet. But Halfling? What the hell did that have to do with anything?

"Oh, when I was having that episode we found out that you were part Galra and then fake Allura hated you for a really long time. But-" he trailed off, the topic of before seeming to make him tense, as if-if he talked about it too much they'd put him back in that room, "seemed to fit. Mullet gets old after a while."

Keith's heart started racing a bit. That was new. He hadn't even mentioned anything having to do with Voltron since he'd told Matt it wasn't real. Could this mean something? Should he dig deeper?

"Galra. Aren't those the guys you thought had captured you and brought you here. That this was all just a 'Galra' simulation?" He was tentative. If he'd gone too far Lance would storm off, and Keith didn't know if he could stand not talking for another entire week.

"Yeah. I mean it's obviously not, but yeah."

He'd answered. That was most definitely an improvement. "I get that you don't want to talk about that part of your life anymore, but if you don't believe it can't hurt you, but if it is true, which some part of me is telling me it is, then you will never leave here if you don't start believing." He poked at the subject gently.

Lance tore his gaze from the table and focused it on Keith, his cheeks slick with tears. They were already becoming puffy and red. "You don't get it, do you? It's not like I don't want to believe. Believing would be so much damn easier than whatever the quizn- hell this is. But more than wanting to be sane, I want to stay the hell out of that room." He clenched his fists and unclenched them. His eyes looked so weary. Of course he wanted to believe, who wouldn't? Believing that someone was coming to save you was probably the only thing that kept these people from offing themselves. Well, that and the extensive security measures. Lance had nothing to live for ever since that belief had been washed away.

Keith bit the inside of his gums. His hands rubbed over the surface of the table, yet his mouth stayed clamped tightly shut. He stumbled over words frantically in his head. Say something. Say something. Please.

"But you still think I'm nuts, right? How could a guy as broken as me ever be made whole again?"

Keith's mouth still refused to move.

Lance gave a slight nod then got up from the table. With a last glance, he was out of the cafeteria and into the hospital. His legs moved at a calm walk at first, but before he knew it he was sprinting, his legs moving furiously under him. He couldn't find it in him to stop. Every fibre in his being wanted to fly, and yet he remained glued to this horrid terrestrial plane.

He didn't want this. He didn't want to be broken. He didn't want to hold onto false hope. He didn't want to be scared of the dark or have to sleep every night in Keith's room. He didn't want to long for Keith's arms around him because he was still so damn scared at nights. He just wanted to look into the mirror and know who the hell the man staring back was.

He didn't know when, but at some point he must've stopped, because he was sitting in a part of the hospital he'd never been before, knees wrapped to his chest. His face was red and puffy, tears salty on his lips. And all he could think about was wanting to leave. Take Keith and leave this place. Why Keith? Out of every person in the entire galaxy, he'd had to choose the one person he didn't think he could ever stand.

The same guy who made him feel worthless. The guy who had driven him to lunacy and the reason he'd gone to that room. Why was he here trying to fix him? He could've left ages ago. Why was he here? Why did he wear that adorable-little-lopsided smile? Why couldn't Keith just leave him the hell alone? Why didn't Lance want him to?