- Langst One-Shots

Leave your Lover.

[Trigger warning: Physical & verbal abuse, attempted suicide, attempted sexual assault]

[Klancelot, mentioned Shance]

[request for @WiltedFlowxers
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Lance let out a whimper as Shiro's hand glided across his cheek. It was such a common occurrence by now, he was barely phased by it. An apology rested on the tip of his tongue, just waiting to escape the moment this twisted, one-sided version of a lover's quarrel was done. This had become the norm for the Cuban boy and his Korean lover— if you could even call him that.

It was clear the last thing he gave to Lance was love, proved by the unnecessary bruises and scars left on his body. The fact that the brunette hadn't eaten in days and yet in the small part of his brain he could still process his thoughts he could hear Shiro shouting about how fat and useless he was. He twitched, his ocean blue iris' shining bright as his eyelids exposed them to the harsh white lighting in the room.

His dizzy sight suddenly became nothing but lagged objects. The world moved in slow motion around him, he thrashed and kicked, his own voice sounding drowned in his mind as he was dragged across the grey Catalina wooded flooring by his hair.

His malnourished body was pulled and slammed onto the bed, causing a choked gasp to come out. He wheezed at the collision, gasping as the air was yanked from his lungs. "W-wait, please—" he sputtered out desperately. His body strength returned even if only slightly as he began to thrash. Shiro's muscular hands gripped at his bony thighs— which was sure to leave bruising. His whimpers and pleas became louder and louder as his body jolted, his foot clashing into Shiro's nose and causing him to stumble backwards.

The Korean man gathered himself before raising a hand to feel the crimson liquid trickling from his nostrils. His throat rumbled as his frustration bubbled in his throat.

"W-wait I didn't mean to—" The man walked towards him. "P-please don't hurt me I'm sorry I swear please just don't hurt me!" Lance sobbed, curling himself up as much as he could to escape his lover's fury. He closed his eyes, protecting his head with his arms as he waited for an impact he never received. He looked up, relieved, confused, and mildly concerned only to see Shiro's large body slump to the floor. He jumped, "Shiro!?" he shouted.

"Lance! Lance are you okay!?" Another voice called. His eyes lingered on the body before hopping to the next frame in the room. There stood the mullet-wearing loser who was quick to scoop Lance in his arms, feeling his heart shatter at the Cuban's anxious flinch and violent shaking. He carried him bridle style to the downstairs couch, leaving for only a moment to contact Lotor and bring him inside.

Moments later Lance was curled in his arms crying as Keith dialed the police.

———

After the conflict was resolved, one could only assume staying in his own home alone that night wouldn't be the best decision. So Lotor and Keith decided on bringing the poor boy along with them to their humble abode. Lance was allowed a guest room— simply because whilst the main bedroom bed was most definitely substantial when it came to having enough space for all three of them, it was quite obvious Lance was severely sensitive to touch as of now.

The trio had all communicated and consented that Lance will take residence in the couple's house while he recovers. Though perhaps by staying there Lance assumed it was forever, and as a ghost. In other words, he was practically slumping in a pool of blood while he weakly tied a noose. It was likely when his body made a thud as it collided with the hardwood floors that awoke one of the two other men. It's obvious what happens next— panic ensues, an ambulance is called. Lotor and Keith devote a high percentage of their time to Lance, bringing him his favorite foods, stuffed animals, books to read, and so on.