Over My Dead Body!

Chapter Six

"Fuck."

Keith heaves a breath as he slowly sits up from the floor. De ja vu? He must've fallen off of his couch while he was asleep. The short boy feels his breath being constricted because stupid Keith strikes yet again; he slept with his binder still on. He feels his head ache due to his hang-over. He swipes the beads of sweat off of his forehead with the back of his hand.

"Rise and shine, Keith!" Lance greets.

"You—" he coughs. "Don't you mean bike boy?"

"Oh, you remebered. I was hoping you weren't an asshole when you wake up. Guess I was wrong."

"Yeah, no shit." He coughs. "Fuck, what happened last night?"

"You, sir, got wasted."

Keith looks across the room and sees five cans of beer scattered all over the floor. He runs a gloved hand through his hair, then frowns when his headache gets worse.

"Don't you have work?"

"I'm. . ." He says. "I'm-I'm," he gags.

Keith gets up then sprints towards the bathroom. He opens the toilet then vomits. He finally stops and sits down on the floor, head leaning againts the wall. The pain in his chest gets worse with every move he makes. He needs to take his binder off.

"Hey, asshole!" Keith calls. "You in the living room?"

"I'm right beside—"

"Geez!" He starts. "You scared the shit out of me. What did I say about not following me to the bathroom?"

"Well, you're technically not taking a bath so I figured it was okay."

"Well, step out. I'm going to bath now."

"Try not to bump your drunk head while you're at
it."

"I'll try my best."

He feels a cold wind slightly blow towards the living room and he guesses that it was Lance stepping out of the bathroom. With all the strength he has left, he stands up and closes the door. He takes a deep breath and takes his shirt off, his binder next. Keith sighs in relief as he sits back down on the floor, his shirt against him to cover his chest. He really needs to take care of his health. Sleeping in a binder is very dangerous. He stands up and steps in the bath tub, opens the shower, and begins taking a bath. Good thing he has clean clothes hanged beside his towel. He can't just step out in a towel now, can he? Lance will know and he has to hear him talk about it for hours. He finishes, dries off, then wears his fresh clothes.

"You still alive there?" Lance asks from the door.

"Are you?" Keith spits into the drain.

"Oh, haha." He paused. "Aren't you gonna meet up with Hunk and Pidge?"

"Not until later for our group project. Why?"

"I just. . .you know, miss them. It's nice to see them smiling and not worrying about me."

Keith shakes his head, "They think you're still alive."

"I know."

After a long silence, Keith hangs his used binder beside his towel. He's not wearing a binder now, he can't risk that. Someone should give him a medal because despite his migrane, he was able to take a bath. He can't even recall most of the things he was rambling about last night. Keith steps out the bathroom.

"Keith," Lance calls from the couch.

"What do you want?"

"I want you to listen, please?"