Little Blue Space Boy

Chapter 4

//Lance's POV//

I woke up, only to see a black t-shirt and a strong chest in my face. Keith. He had one arm wrapped around my back securely as though he were trying to keep me from falling off a cliff. I gently nuzzled into his chest and his eyes fluttered open.

"Hey," he said groggily. I giggled. My headspace can't deny it, he sounded absolutely sexy right now. He nuzzled our noses together as he did before our short nap. It's amazing how at ease I feel when he's here. My rival. My mortal enemy... well, not really, I just wanted to be dramatic. Yet here he was, this 18-year-old badass, caring for me in my headspace. I mean is anything not badass about him? The knives, the jacket, those damn boots. The mullet, although I'd never say it to his face, his mullet is badass too. Stupid Mullet, making me think about its long, probably soft locks. Now I'm curious.

Keith's eyes followed my hands as they traveled to his mullet. I gently tugged on one strand and he laughed.

"Well, even in this state you still have some obsession with my hairstyle," he chuckled.

"Only because it's from like the 1900's and reminds me of some David Hasselhoff movie from like 1980," I joked. "So outdated Keith," I added with a laugh. He feigned a hurt look.

"My mullet is badass, you're just jealous my hair is better than yours." He quipped.

"As if, you're probably jealous of my amazing complexion," I joked as a flipped my non-existent long hair.

"Yes, yes I am," He said sarcastically. "Are you still in little space?" He asked. I guess not. I usually talk like a baby when I am.

"Don't think so," I said. He smiled. He's been doing that a lot these past 9 hours. We got out of bed and stretched. He randomly picked me up and spun in a circle as I laughed like an idiot. He set me down and held me close. This would technically be illegal where we live on earth. I now realize this, I'm only fifteen. He's eighteen, a legal adult. But hey, who gives a crap, right now we're in space. Those rules don't apply here. The tips of my hair brushed against the point of his nose. God, I feel so short. I looked down to see that I am still sporting my long-sleeved onesie. Keith noticed my gaze at my current outfit.

"You wanna go take a shower and change," he whispered into my ear. I nodded as I buried my face in his chest like a small child. I grabbed some clothes and went to the bathroom. As I entered the shower, streams of cold water flowed into my hair. Most people absolutely despise cold showers, me on the other hand, I've probably never taken a hot shower in my life. As I massaged the shampoo through my hair that reverted back to its natural curls, I remember this one instance where my mother was holding me close to her, running her hands through my hair. I vividly remember that night, there was a huge storm raging outside my window and I had begun to cry like I had just learned my puppy died. My brother that's still alive was trying to get some radio to work downstairs since there was a power outage. Since all the bedrooms were upstairs, he wasn't able to hear me. My other siblings all tried their best to calm me down, but I was terrified. My eldest brother eventually carried me to our mom to see if she could calm me. He watched and she held me tightly and ran her fingers through my hair. Humming a tune of a song she sang to me when I was an infant as a lullaby. I began to calm down as the sweet tune of the song filled my ears, I was in a state of bliss. My brother climbed into the bed and brought me into his arms, he gently rocked my frail 4-year-old body, back and forth. He and my mother hummed in unison. After that, I remember falling asleep, waking up the next morning to a perfect day. Sun shining through the blinds and clear blue skies.

I snapped back into reality as I realized the shampoo has already been rinsed out due to the waterfall pouring onto my head. I grabbed the conditioner and worked it through the ends of my hair. I began to hum that same song my mother used to sing to me. Tears welled in the corners of my eyes, eventually filling them to the brim. I rinsed the conditioner and grabbed the loofah to scrub my body. I stopped when I came to my arms, deciding rubbing them with my hands would probably be more gently than the rough scrubbing of the sponge. I rubbed the suds across the scars, each one. I winced as the soap stung when it came into contact with the open cuts. Two just opened back up. I watched the blood trickled down my arms and combine with the water. I turned off the water and stepped out. I wrapped the towel around my slim waist and made my way to the sink area. I looked at myself in the mirror as I did every single day. Intrusive thoughts and demoralizing thoughts filled my brain. I let them linger, knowing that pushing away the truth wasn't going to help me. I am useless, I am pathetic, I am the reason for my family's demise, I'm just a no-good murderer. I'm no better than Zarkon at this point, although he kills them directly using his soldiers, I am just at fault for my family's death. If I weren't born, they wouldn't be dead. My entire existence is a sin. My presence is a burden among all those around me. Everything would be better if I were gone.

I slipped on my clothes and walked out the bathroom. Keith stood there holding my boots for me. I slipped them on as we made our way to the dining hall.

"Hey Hunk," I said as I waved to him.

"Hey Keith," Hunk said, completely ignoring my greeting. Keith looked over at me but acknowledged Hunk's "hey" with a nod. We passed by Shiro and I inched myself closer to Keith as if wanting protection from some huge monster I believed lived in my closet. Keith offered me a light smile, Keith and Shiro exchanged glances and walked past each other. We finally came to the dining hall, later the entire team was there. All sitting at the table. Laughing, joking, eating... all except for me. I tried to engage, but my efforts were futile. I felt myself begin to shrink, not literally of course, but I felt as though I were slipping. The more I was ignored, the farther I slipped. By the end of dinner, it was official;

I was to remain unheard.