Writing The Tides

Dormiveglia (n.)

Laying on the living room couch, half awake and full wanting to be dead, Keith's alarm let out a piercing sound, breaking the cocoon he had built out of Shiro's throw pillows and letting the cold in. He winced at the bright screen against the black canvas of the room, groaning as he ignored the numbers he couldn't see for the sweet scent of the sleep beckoning him. It was pretty damn obvious- Keith was hungover.

Extremely hungover.

And not the "wow man I'm totally drunk right now" hangover, this was his "when everything is slowly spiraling to literal shit so all I can do is live on netflix and eat nutella from the can" hangover.

It wasn't like Keith was unhappy with his life. He was extremely grateful to have such a loving family and the chance to go to college and all that stuff. Keith just knew when shit was gonna hit the fan. After all, good and bad follow each other constantly. With laughter comes tears to be shed, and vise versa. It was simply the way things were, and the way they'd always been.

But it wasn't like Keith could do anything about it. All he could do was continue on with eternal optimism that he did not possess and the patience that Shiro kept nagging him about getting...and not have a mental breakdown.

Well.... that part needed work.

And technically it was Lance's fault. If he hadn't pranked Keith, then he wouldn't have been inclined to buy him this much junk food; and if Keith didn't have all this junk food he wouldn't have been inclined to spend the entire night binge watching the X Files until eventually falling into a self pitiful food coma.

So fuck Lance.

Keith sighed, Lance.

Why did he have to make things so difficult. Keith didn't wanna swim, and he definitely didn't wanna have a crush on the person who was supposed to be teaching him. If this was any other person, they'd have probably given up a long time ago.

But this was Lance .

Lance didn't have the mindset to give up. It wasn't in his DNA. And Keith absolutely hated how much he loved that.

Ha, love. The very root of Keith's insecurities and prolonged mental torture. He didn't like having feelings.

Especially ones for stupid Cuban heartthrobs.

He was still wrapping his head around that, his feelings that is. Lance was most definitely not Keith's type. Keith liked guys who were kind and brave and made him laugh...and....umm....

WELL ANYWAYS LANCE IS TOTALLY NOT HIS TYPE.

'And even if he was..' Keith thought, 'which he's NOT..'

"...he would never feel that way about me." Keith whispered into the silent atmosphere of the 4 a.m. world. It hurt to say it aloud, but Keith wanted to get over Lance as fast as possible. He found a worm in his Adam's apple as he began to choke his thoughts down, pushing himself up against the sofa and the world.

~

"Come on grandma, put a pep in your step! You're gonna be late to class again." Shiro grabbed his keys from the counter as he tried to ignore the soft whines from his kid brother.

"No one talks like that..." Keith yawned as Shiro rolled his eyes.

"Ya'know if you actually listened to my schedule for you then you wouldn't be so tired." Shiro and Keith walked out of the apartment in long strides, as Keith was currently unfit to get himself to school safely, Shiro was completely open to play the older, wiser, sibling role. With the signature nagging that is.