Personal {klance}

Why do you hate him?

// okay like 300  views? Boi ik thats alittle number but its huge for me
Also u can skip this chapter to the end bc it's lowkey a filler chapter ;)
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"Ugh pidge are you serious? Its like you dont even care" Lance said groaning as he leaned back in his seat. The buzz of the cafeterias vending machines the only sounds beside Pidge and Lance; who were the only two people here. It confused him; why everyone seemed to hate Keith. He's asked a handful of people about him and where he's been, and he gets the same response over and over.

"Oh him....".

"Ugh, really?".

"Ew I dont wanna talk about him".

What could he have done to make the literal whole school hate him?

"I dont care, hes a dick and asshole" The smaller mumble whilst shaking her head. "Common we really need to wor-"

"Okay really? What did he do to make the whole school hate him? Why is he so bad?"

"Lance. That boy is a druggie and he's always getting into fights. Hes bad news and everyone knows it. Seriously as your friend im telling you to stay away from him."

Druggie? Thats a new one. Add that to the list of 'shitty things people call Keith'. 

He stuck his tongue out as he sat up. "I'll work on this when I get home, im getting tired and I dont like being at school after hours" he hummed with a small apology smile. Packing his things up before slinging his backpack over his shoulder. "Later pidge."

With that Lance left the school. In hailing the fresh air as he watched the trees sway back and forwards; watching the leaves tumbling lightly to the ground with every light tug of the wind. Only for him to come by and crush the leafs beneath his foot; the sound of the leaves crunching with every step caused a small smile to curl his onto his lips. He enjoyed times like this; times where the world seemed so calm and quiet. No cars were driving by as it was past rush hours and all the familes were home eating dinner.

Which instantly reminded him of his mothers meals she cooked back in Cuba. He remembered the sweet taste of the corn arepas with Cacique queso frecos ;(its chesse)  the saltly but sweet way it tasted. Frowning as he remembered he couldn't have them anymore as they didn't sell them in America. Which meant no chicharon or chorizos with fresh squeezed lime. No sweet rice with his mothers signature homemade soup.

God, thinking about all this made his stomach growl.

He was so lost in thought he had no idea where the hell he was going. Lost somewhere in a neighborhood; a pretty sketchy one if you asked him. All the housed paint was chipping and there were a few tiles missing from a few of the roofs. But other than that it was a quiet place. No one was outside walking their dogs. No kids playing outside. This place just gave him the creeps. But with his phone dead and unaware of where he was he had to ask someone. So he walked for a bit more until he saw a house that didn't look as bad. Walking up to it he took a deep breath before knocking on the door. He waited a bit. He did hear slight shuffling from inside the house and foot steps to the door. The human inside seemed to hesitate as they opened the door. As if when they did someone was gonna attack them.

But once the door opened more Lances eyes widened at the sight of what he saw. The person had dark bruises laced around his neck,  a painfully obvious black eye, busted lip. And just over all they looked like utter shit. But that surprised him less; what surprised him most was the person who the bruises belonged to.

"Keith?"

// as a hispanic writing about that food made me so hungry.

Also keiths alive
-chris