Mark Me Yours ; klance [Hiatus]

I: The Morning After

The semi-familiar scent of the ocean and the warmth radiating onto his back is what wakes Keith first, blurry-eyed and disoriented. Next it's the golden sun beams pouring into the room from in between the parted curtains, pooling onto the comforter as he shifts onto his elbows.

Lazily wiping the remnants of dream dust from his eyes, Keith lets a yawn stretch his lips, throwing his head back. He blinks, confusedly squinting at the stars plastered all over the ceiling, the clusters forming constellations.

He wipes at his eyes again, but the jumble of stars remain. Keith thinks he can spot Leo from where he's craning his neck upward.

"What the..." his voice drifts off softly into the quiet morning air. He tears away his gaze from the ceiling and lets it fall back down onto the bed—onto the blue sea of sheets.

The color is what fully pulls him out of his dazed, half-asleep state. It suddenly becomes clear to Keith that these were not his sheets, this was not his bed, and this was definitely not his dorm.

"What the hell?!" He belts out, only now noticing the body that had been resting beside him, their back rising and falling with each soft breath. They suddenly fall out of bed at the shout, sprawling out onto the floor, limbs tangled in between the mess of blue bedsheets, groaning.

Keith scrambles to his knees, digging them into the mattress as he frantically searches for his glasses. "What the hell, what the hell, what the hell," he mutters in mantra as he does so.

"What...?" A voice then asks groggily. Just as Keith finds his glasses hidden under the pillow, a blurry head of curly hair appears.

Shoving his glasses on, Keith stares them down with a frown, eyebrows furrowed. A pair of dark blue eyes peek over the edge of the bed, widening at the sight of Keith.

"What the fuck," Keith screeches in a mixture of shock and disgust. There, on the floor, lied Lance McClain, aka his best friend's boyfriend.

Lance furrows his eyebrows, blinking at Keith in surprise as he purses his lips. "Keith," he starts, slowly standing from the floor. He searches Keith's face before letting his eyes fall onto the bed. "...did we—"

"No," Keith immediately cuts him off, holding out his hands defensively. "No, there's no way we—" A bark of nervous laughter. "There is no way we," A quick hand gesture. "did anything. No way. No fricking way,"

Lance gives a curt nod. "Right. Of course not," he says unconvincingly. Keith's stomach swirls unpleasantly, he suddenly feels light-headed.

"This is all just a bad dream. Just a bad dream." He repeats as he carefully crawls out of bed, as if what he was saying would come true if he believed it hard enough. "There's no way I would do that Lura, there's no way you'd cheat on her, so this—this is just...a dream,"

"Um, I'm not so sure about that, buddy," Lance then says awkwardly, voice piercing through Keith's incoherent murmuring. Keith then turns away from where he had been looking for his pants—his pants for god sake, at least he was wearing a shirt—to look over at Lance, who was standing shirtless, his back to the full length mirror on the wall.

"What." Keith says coldly, eyebrows scrunched as he walks up to him. Lance shoots him a nervous glance before turning around wordlessly.

Keith's breath suddenly catches in his throat, his eyes blown wide as his cheeks begin to burn in embarrassment. Lance's tanned back was decorated in harsh, uneven lines, irritated and red. They ran along the edges of his spine, quick bursts not unlike those of spontaneous cat scratches.