Mark Me Yours ; klance [Hiatus]

III: Excuse The Mess

Tuesday
6 Days Until The Deal Expires

—

Keith had left he and Lance's meetup with an uneasy feeling at the bottom of his stomach and a bad taste in his mouth. Removing his glasses and digging the heels of his palms into his eyes, he had walked back to his dorm blurry-eyed and mentally exhausted.

Face-planting onto his bed, he fell into an elaborate dream. But just as he began to make sense of the flashing lights and flailing limbs, the dream detached itself from his grasp as he blinked back into the real world.

His face was buried in one of his pillows, drool pooling onto the case. With a groan, Keith lifts himself onto his elbows and wipes his hand across his wet cheek. He kicks away the sheets—his white sheets, thank gosh—from his body and sits up.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," Shiro greets when he notices Keith had finally awoken from his death-like slumber.

"Shiro? What time—"

"Uh...one thirty seven," his roommate answers as he glances down at his phone. He looks back up at Keith with a bemused expression. "And how was your one thousand hour nap?"

Keith frowns, faintly remembering he had gone to bed right after meeting up with Lance. He practically slept in the entire day with an exception of Shiro shaking him awake to eat some "lunch" (a ham sandwich) near 5 PM and dinner (two slices of pizza) around 10 PM.

"Shut up. I had a rough morning," Keith retorts with a glare.

Unaffected, Shiro smiles and nods, looking down to the MacBook in his lap. "Of course you did—I mean, after that party on Sunday and all,"

Keith's eyes widen, all his tiredness suddenly seeping out of his body. "What party?" He asks frantically.

Shiro sends him a confused glance, cocking his head to the side. "The one I assumed you went to?" He answers.

Keith's shoulders slump as he lets out a sigh. So Shiro doesn't know anything then. Damn.

"Oh, right," Keith mutters.

Shiro only hums in retaliation, clicking at his keyboard before shutting it and shuffling out of bed. "I'm gonna head out. There's still pizza in the mini." He says as he swings his bag over his shoulder.

Before Keith could say anything, Shiro is out the door and slamming it shut.

Sighing deeply, and rather melodramatically, Keith drags himself out of bed and forces himself to change out of his clothes he had only worn to one class yesterday. (God, that's gonna bite him in the ass later, isn't it? He had missed two other classes.)

His hoodie, which he had sweat feverishly in amidst his sleep, was tugged off and his jeans were thrown into the dirty laundry pile forming at the foot of his bed. He pulled on a pair of gray sweatpants and some random band t-shirt he found not to be as dirty as any of the others. (He desperately needs to do laundry soon.)

Glad (and much relieved) he only had that one economics class later this afternoon, Keith grabbed his MacBook from his desk and crawled back into his bed. Legs crossed underneath him, he places the MacBook in his lap and flips it open, fingers hovering over the keys expectantly. He types in his password quickly, eyes squinting as he did so.

"Shit," he mutters when he instinctively goes to push his glasses up his nose, only now realizing he didn't even have them on. He abandons his laptop for a quick second, placing it down onto his bed as it began to boot up.