Dirty Laundry *Klance book*

Day 10

Day 10

Sunday, December 25th

Christmas Day

3:01 A.M.

The past seven hours had happened so fast -- one moment everyone hated each other, and the next? The next no one even cared. Every grudge had been lifted, every hateful word was at least a tiny bit forgotten. Keith was gone, and everyone seemed to share one single mindset: They needed to find Keith.

The Sanchez family initiated a search party. Despite the children that stayed home with Rachel, everyone chose to come; filling up each car that littered the Sanchez driveway.

Lance had read the letter under the light of his iphone. They played Keith's playlist from the car's CD player as Lance read, and thankfully none of the passengers made any comments. (Surprisingly enough, even Benji held back.) The car had rumbled beneath his feet, traveling down the main highway as Sophia and Rosa conversed in the front seat over different places to look.

It was in this car that Lance made a decision.

Lance loved Keith; loved him the same way the letter had described. Lance loved that he had the capability to love. He could love Keith, and now, with his family problems calmed, he felt the time was right. He could, he would, and he was going to try. He wanted to, the idea suddenly becoming so much more than your average crush. It was a necessity.

Lance wanted to take Keith on dates. He wanted to plant kisses on his nose, he wanted to hold his hand, he wanted to cuddle in bed, he wanted to make fun of his music taste -- all to sing his favorite songs as the boy would fall asleep.

It had been staring himself in the face for days, and all this time he'd been too distracted, too worried, too focused on his other problems to realize it. Lance remembered back to only a few days ago. It was the night they'd decorated the christmas tree; Benji had played his guitar, Keith and the children danced, Lance sat watching with chocolate to devour. He remembered Cleo and the conversation they'd had.

How stupid he'd been -- how selfish, how naive, how blind.

They'd been driving for hours -- Sophia, Rosa, and Benji all decided to pile into Sophia's sudan and travel along the main highway while others searched the backroads. They'd played Keith's mixtape several times over, each replay for Lance to listen and blush into his winter scarf.

"I'm worried," Rosa repeated for the upteenth time, her hands fumbling with a strange yellow book Lance didn't recognise. "We need a better plan than to just drive aimlessly."

"I'll try calling him again," Lance offered, pulling out his phone. They'd all called several times -- even Benji had made the attempt. Their work was going nowhere.

They'd drove for only one more mile before an idea crossed Lance's mind; he'd been scrolling through his messages, only to find a Christmas text from Hunk on the group chat.

Firelord. Choke Me Daddy. President Taquito. Hunky Munky. Princess fukboi killer. Pidgeon.

Pidgeon.

Pidge Holt.

Lance rang his friend six times before the small kid finally answered, their voice lethargic and unconscious on the other line.

"...Hello?"

"Hey, Pidge! It's Lance." The boy could barely control his excitement, fumbling to keep his phone next to his ear.

There was a long pause on the other line, all before Pidge's voice filled the speaker rather loudly.

"Lance, you better have a good reason for waking me up this fucking early on Christmas morning --"