alien tongues

KURO WEEK - DAY 6: Mind Control

So… this turned out to be quite long again, but I don’t care. I had so much fun doing this :3


Kuro

Pressure. There had been pressure at the back of his head lately. It felt like something was pushing against his mind, trying to coax Kuro into letting it in.

At first he’d thought this was another terrible experiment, another sick joke the Druids were pulling to make him break and give up what little humanity he’d regained since Shiro was there with him. Their mind-tricks and brainwashing methods were the worst ones. But that idea was discarded quickly…  Because it didn’t feel cruel or malicious. It didn’t feel as cold and intrusive as Druid magic would. It was just… there. Warm and constant, but never demanding.

Shiro felt it to. If his searching gaze and withdrawn behaviour was anything to go by. Sometimes Kuro swore he saw something like recognition flit over those painfully familiar features. But as fast as it came, it faded again. Weighed down by the pure awareness of just where they were.

Kuro never asked about it.

Until that one day… the day the Druids let them see their newest creation.

___

 Keith

There was nothing he could do but wait. And that’s exactly what he did. Everyday, every single minute he didn’t spend on saving planet after planet - saving lives. Every. Fucking. Second.

He’d sit and wait. Sit and wait.

Some days he went mad with impatience. He had a feeling that time was running out for both of them, him and Shiro. And all he could do was sit in Black’s cockpit and concentrate. On what? He had no idea. It hadn’t been his idea in the first place. But Black had insisted on trying to get a hold of Shiro through their bond.

But sitting in his place, in his lion, playing his role as the leader of Voltron didn’t help Keith concentrate at all. It just made him more restless.

Still, Black insisted. Because she loved Shiro… And she knew Keith did, too. She had known it all along.

So they both sat in the Black Lion’s hangar and listened; reached out into the endless nothingness of space, trying to feel the familiar warmth of the Black Paladin’s soul. Keith had no idea how this was supposed to work - but he guessed it had something to do with Lion magic. Black had tried to explain it to him once… she had tried to explain that she, because of her own bond with Shiro, worked like an amplifier to the connection Keith and Shiro shared. She even tried to tell him something about two beings made from the same quintessence and fate and all that stuff, but Keith hadn’t even been listening at that point. All he knew was, that he wanted Shiro back. And he would do anything to find him.

The moment it had worked, the moment he felt the other Paladin’s presence emerge from the darkest depth of the universe, had him almost fainting with relief and joy. Shiro was alive. Above all the white noise and static of space, Keith could still feel him, like a signature his soul had left behind, and hold onto that. He was alive. And Keith would find him.

All he had to do was work with Black to establish a proper connection to Shiro, to get a grasp on him, and then find out where he was.

Well… easier said than done.

For there was something else. Something that distracted Keith time and time again. There was a presence, another signature the Black Lion could follow - could connect to in a way. It looked - or rather felt - like a faded, almost washed-out version of Shiro’s soul. If he’d have to describe it, he’d say it felt like looking at two different hues of the same color.

Keith didn’t pay much attention to it…

Until the day Shiro’s signature went silent. Still there, but unresponsive and still. Shutting them out. The only thing Keith could definitely feel was dread

That’s when he knew their time was up.

___

Kuro

They’d let them see. Because they knew how much it would affect Shiro. They knew it would break him. Make him give up all hope.

The Druids had showed them their newest monster. A giant made of steel and wires. Just for Shiro. This would be his final transformation. He’d become machinery - heart and soul. A robeast.

It had been his very first time witnessing a panic attack from up close… and it almost choked Kuro himself. There was just so much a human being could take. And Shiro had reached a point where he could take no more. All Kuro could see in the other man’s face was fear. Pure, all-consuming fear.

He’d die. He’d die. He’d die. HE’D DIE. Shiro would die. He knew it.

All Kuro could do was sit and watch with growing concern for his new-found friend. What should he do? How could he help Shiro? How could they get out of this alive?

He needed to save Shiro from this kind of fate. Because Shiro deserved it. He deserved to live.

During their shared time in captivity, the Galra-hybrid had grown quite fond of the not-so-monstrous Champion. Shiro was… well. Shiro was the closest thing Kuro had to family. There HAD to be a way for them to get out of this.

Shiro sat, huddled up into the far corner of their cell, shivering and breathing way too fast for Kuro’s liking. No words had been spoken since they’d seen the robeast in its hangar. Shiro had been eerily silent the whole trip back to their cell.

Come on, come ON!, he thought, wracking his brain for a solution. For a way out. There has to be something. Just SOMETHING!

Kuro didn’t notice the pressure in the back of his head growing… until it was too late.

Something pulled at the seams of his mind, something big and dark - but not evil. If he concentrated enough, he could feel the presence embrace him, encircle him with warm darkness.

Let me in.

… what?

Let me in, a deep voice repeated. He’d never heard it before… But still it sounded… familiar. Warm and thick like honey. He couldn’t tell whether it was a woman or a man speaking. It sounded…beyond physical manifestation; beyond the universe itself.

We will help you.

Alright, Kuro thought, now wasn’t the time to talk to voices inside your head. He had to find a way out of here. It was only a tad bit alarming, that voices, no one else seemed to hear, didn’t really faze him anymore. There had been worse, he told himself.

Who was “we” anyway?

Me and Keith, the voice provided.

Wait a second…. Keith? THE Keith? As in “Red Paladin Keith”? Keith from Earth? The Keith Shiro wouldn’t stop talking about?

The presence gave an affirming nudge, because yes, they were talking about the same person. Holy shit.

But why? How? He had so many questions. But for now only one was important:

Can you get us out of here?

A heartbeat.

Then another.

… Yes.

Relief flooded his very being. Good. This was- good. But they didn’t have much time. They had no idea when the guards would come to take Shiro. It could be any moment now.

You’ll need to hurry, Kuro thought, trying to dig everything he’d seen in that hangar up from his mind. You need to-

We know. We’re already on our way.

We’ll try to get your way, then.

Can you do us a favor, first?

Kuro hesitated. The soft pressure at the back of his head had spread over the past few minutes. Whatever they were, whatever kind of magical shit their saviors-to-be were pulling… It had spread over his body. Like something tried to squeeze into his body, beside his own mind.

What kind of favor?

Let him talk to Shiro.

Him? Keith?

Yes.

How?

You’ll see.

I don’t think I-

Please.

… This was crazy. This was so, so crazy. But was there anything left for him to lose? If this was a trap, would it really matter? Taking a look at Shiro, who still sat on the ground, shaking like a leaf and staring absently ahead without really seeing, Kuro decided it was worth a shot. Or his mind, to be more precise.

Fine.

He hadn’t finished that thought, when it already hit him. Red hot and blazing like a dying star; like a burning arrow shot right through his very core. Melting him, burning him… filling up the frayed ends of his mind, where the arena and the labs had taken pieces of him. Until he was whole again. Better than whole. He was more.

He could feel the blazing presence, the very soul of the Red Paladin melt into him and take control of what was his. His thoughts, his feelings, his body. And Kuro let him.

For he could feel everything the Paladin poured into his being. Desperation, sorrow, longing, love. A love that burned brighter than a supernova. Kuro could feel it sear his chest, his throat, his mouth on its way up. He could feel it pressing against his jaws, forcing them to open; his mind already giving the order to speak - without him realizing it. His mind wasn’t his anymore. But he didn’t care.

“S-Shiro?”, even his voice sounded off. A bit high-pitched, less guttural. “Shiro? Are you there?”

The former Champion froze. Wide eyes darted towards him, disbelieve written all over his face. It took him a few seconds to realize what - or better who- he’d just heard. Kuro could tell the exact moment it hit him.

“…. Keith?”

“Yeah”, the strange voice spoke again. The words felt fuzzy and alien on his tongue. “We’re on our way. Just hang on.”

___

Yay I finall made it :D @kuroweek sorry for the delay!

instagram

Blepblepblep

#cockatoo #goffinscockatoo #tongue #alien #actualalien #beak

Made with Instagram

Gen, Lance & Shiro, #feels @paladin-pile


Lance knew he had scars. Shiro had one in the middle of his face, of course he had scars.

It was different to see them.

Before it had just been an abstract concept. “Scars.” Okay, scars. Whatever.

It was different to see them.

It was obvious that Shiro thought he was alone, his eyes closed, head pillowed on his crossed arms as he let the rest of his body soak in the hot, vaguely glowing water.

His back was entirely exposed to Lance, and for the first time, Lance saw more skin than just his face, the back of his neck, and his left hand.

It wasn’t what he’d imagined. They weren’t pretty pink zebra stripes, little accents that made his eyes pop. They were ugly. They twisted his skin up, like the Indian rug burns he remembered giving his siblings. They were things healed wrong, mismatched fissures that tried to seal themselves back together and pulled everything in the wrong direction.

Shiro wasn’t supposed to look like that. Lance remembered Shiro. Shiro was a marble statue, every single muscle carefully chipped out of the Earth by God himself. He was beautiful, but this—

Lance couldn’t keep his eyes still as his brain tried to take everything in.

Stop looking, he told himself. Shiro would hate this.

Shiro’s back rose and feel with his sigh. He was content. God, he was content. His muscles were slack beneath the twisted skin. For the first time Lance could remember, Shiro was relaxed.

He wondered how much the scars had to do with the way the strings that held his jaw in place pulled so hard they looked like they’d snap.

And then his eyes were back, trying to piece together the history written in those lines. That was obviously a bite, a scratch… was that a stab wound?

Lance blinked away the fog in his eyes and shivered with the tears that fell from them. When did he start crying?

Next to the stab was a long slash, and then a phaser blast, and there, right in the middle, taking up far too much of his back, stripes. Pretty and pink. The X’s crossed over each other, back and forth, a latticework weaving of stark marks that puffed up the skin.

Shiro shifted and sighed again, rolling his shoulders back but keeping his eyes closed. The scars moved with him, rolling with his shoulders, turning as he twisted his hips to stretch his legs.

They had become a part of him.

Those—

Lance didn’t even want to think it. He knew what those marks were, and he could almost see Shiro, kind Shiro, gentle Shiro, his hands—there were two of them, then—tied in front of him as he tried not to cry.

Someone counted in an alien tongue. Shiro didn’t even know what number they were going for. He just knew that they kept going. Strike after strike, the crack echoing in his ears every single time. Every single time as they counted, a monotony that rubbed up on his ears, a foreign sound that taunted him.

They wanted him to scream.

He refused to scream.

Lance choked on the sound that threatened to escape his itching throat.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. Shiro had always been a nice guy. He was a nice guy.

Lance bit down on his lip.

It hurt, but it didn’t hurt as much as a whip must have. He kept biting.

Shiro turned his head on his arms and Lance tiptoed backwards, fingernails digging into his palms. but it didn’t hurt as much as a whip must have. He kept digging. He winced when the doors slid back open, but Shiro was so god damn content that he didn’t even notice.

They closed in front of him and Lance sucked in more air than his lungs could hold, coughing it back out as he stumbled to the nearest wall.

He forced his eyes shut, begged the stinging to stop.

It wasn’t fair.

He couldn’t stop picturing all the ways it could have happened, the sounds of Shiro’s scream bouncing off the walls of his brain.

Shiro was there, just feet away, and he was content. Somehow, that made it worse.

Lance wanted to hit someone. He wanted to find Zarkon or Sendak or Haggar or whoever the hell held the whip in their claws, whose voice had grated against his brain, and punch them in their dumb bitch ass teeth.

He tasted blood.

But Shiro was content, sighing to himself in a magical hot tub. He was content.

The scars probably still hurt, still pulled at his skin, but maybe this was recovery. Lance let go of his lip and wiped his face, pulling his shoulders back.

Recovery.

It was all they had left.

Lance dropping casual observations about Keith is a pure and good thing.

They’re on a new planet and Lance is trying out the food at a local festival. He’s thankful for the green goop and Hunk has done wonders in experimenting with the flavor, but sometimes a guy needs a little more variety. Or at least something that tastes like coconut. He grabs some sort of kabob looking thing and takes a small bite. As soon as the flavor hits him, he’s bounding across the room waving the dish excitedly in Keith’s face shouting, “Dude you HAVE to try this, you’re gonna love it.”

It’s hot pink with green stripes an….fuzzy? Keith raises an eyebrow at the striped mammalian horror for a moment, then narrows his eyes at Lance. “It’s not going to turn me green or make me throw up is it?”

Lance rolls his eyes. “That was one time, get over it already. Nothing weird is going to happen, I just know you have a sweet tooth so I think you’ll like it.”

Keith is blindsided by the statement. How does Lance even know that? What the quiznak? He doesn’t realize he’s silently staring at Lance until the blue paladin is waving the food in his face once again. “Are you gonna try it or what?”

Keith brushes the surprise off; he’ll think about it later. “Um… yeah, sure. Stop trying to stab me in the face with it, jeez.”

Keith ends up eating 11 of the seussian skewers before they go back to the castle for the night.



“What are you nervous about?”

Keith’s posture stiffens. He didn’t even hear Lance enter the common room. “What makes you think I’m nervous?”

Lance climbs over the back of the couch to seat himself on it - because he can’t just be normal and walk around to sit like a normal person - before answering. “You’re staring off into space, ha, and messing with the Velcro on your gloves. You only do that when you’re nervous about something.”

“How do you even know that?!” The question tumbles out of Keith’s mouth without explicit permission.

Lance pulls his legs up to cross them and raises an eyebrow. “I pay attention, obviously.” He looks away before adding “So….what’s wrong.”

They talk for a while. It’s not a magic cure, but Keith doesn’t feel like the universe is completely falling apart afterwards. It’s…nice.

Pidge finds the t-shirt on one of their trips to the space mall. It says something along the lines of “Edge Lord” on it in an alien tongue and Pidge thought it was the most hilarious thing they had ever seen an immediately bought it. Keith wrinkles his nose at it, but leaves the room to pull it on anyways. He’s never really had a family, but Pidge is so much like a younger sibling and they looked so proud of the gift. He doesn’t want to let them down. So, he slips it on and marches back into the training deck, determined to not be embarrassed. Which meant that Lance had made his way into the room just before Keith returned, of course.

Lance actually does a double take before he’s consumed with laughter. Keith pouts. When the full body howling finally dies down to more of a giggle, Lance looks over at Pidge. “Is THAT the shirt you bought him?”

They grin, “Yup.”

“God bless you Pidge. I can’t believe you got him to wear it though, Keith hates the color orange.” There’s no time for Keith to wonder how it is that Lance became privy to that information because Lance gives him another look over and grins. “With good reason too. It’s definitely not your color dude.”

Keith immediately pulls the boot off of his left foot and chucks it at Lance’s head. He doesn’t actually throw it hard, but he also doesn’t miss. 

Hunk finds a shop that sells space candy on another trip to the space mall a few weeks after the t-shit incident. They look and taste like jelly beans and even come in a myriad of assorted colors. Everyone on the ship is basically obsessed with them. No one brings it up, but the space jellies, as lance loving calls them, remind everyone on the team of home. It’s bittersweet and Coran makes sure the kitchen is well stocked with them. 

It’s the middle of the night and Keith can’t sleep, so he drags himself to the kitchen for a midnight snack. Lo and behold, he notices a certain Cuban boy sitting on the counter tossing space jellies in the air and trying to catch them with his mouth. Lance’s antics are ridiculous, but they’re also kind of…. endearing? Keith shakes the thought from his head and rolls his eyes for good measure before making his way to the pantry. 

If it had been anyone else, there would have been at least three boxes left and a cold juice sitting there waiting for the taking. BUT it’s Keith, so that means the last box of space jellies is currently being consumed by Lance who rattles a half finished box and says, “Looking for these?”

When Keith turns to face him, Lance is grinning from ear to ear. It’s definitely not cute. “You took the last one.”

Lance’s smile doesn’t falter at Keith’s grumpy tone. “Sure did.”

Keith huffs and turns back to the pantry, resigns himself to grabbing a bag of little pea shaped things that taste like banana at first, but leave a burnt toast aftertaste. Pidge is obsessed with them, Keith doesn’t really get it but he needs something to snack on so he sits a the table and tears opens the bag.

A few minutes go by and the silence is only broken up by Lace humming a few bars of some song Keith has never heard before. He likes it though and he’ s almost tempted to ask Lance to hum it a little louder. But that’s weird. So he just stares at his pea things and occasionally places one in his mouth.

A box is suddenly placed in front of Keith as Lance slides onto the seat directly across from him smiling. “You like the black ones, right?” He says it with an air of confidence that only Lance possesses but there’s some sort of undertone to it that Keith can’t quite identify. Fondness maybe?

Keith shifts his gaze from the boy in front of him back down to the box of space jellies. There are quite a few of Keith’s preferred jellies in there and it almost seems like Lance had planned on saving all of them for Keith before he even came into the kitchen. Keith pushes the thought away and looks back up at Lance to mutter a thank you. When Lance smiles this time it’s blinding and genuine. Keith has to avert his gaze yet again, because when Lance gives him that specific brand of smile… his heart starts to do weird things.

The humming starts again and when Keith is done with his jellies they clean up and Lance walks him to his room. The “Goodnight” Lace utters before heading to his room is accompanied with a small wave and a soft smile. Keith falls back to sleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. 

They’re sitting side by side on the floor of the bridge staring upwards at the holographic image of Earth’s sun and all of the stars surrounding it. It doesn’t happen every night, not that there’s really a night or a day in space, either way they should both be asleep at these time none the less, but it’s not uncommon for one of them to find the other sitting by a window looking out at the endless space that surrounds them at all times now.

Sometimes they just sit together in comfortable silence. Sometimes they make up stupid constellations to make one another laugh. Occasionally they’ll both lay down next to each other as they look out a window at an unfamiliar planet and talk about all kinds of things in muted tones. 

Tonight though, there was something about the look in Lance’s eyes that made Keith take him by the wrist and lead him to the bridge to look at the familiar stars they’d both grown up staring at. 

Keith smiles as he points to another cluster and says, “That’s Lyra.”

Lace looks up. “It’s small.”

“Yep.” The red paladin nods. “It’s the 52nd constellation in order from largest to smallest, but Vega is part of the constellation and that’s the fifth brightest star in Earth’ s night sky.”

Lance pulls his legs to his chest and rests his chin on his knees. “Isn’t there a myth behind it about a musician or something?”

“Yeah, Orpheus. The story is pretty sad actually.”

Lance spares Keith a glance paired with a smirk before looking back at the hologram. A half smile shouldn’t twist Keith’s stomach like that, but it does. “Greek mythology usually is Keith.” There’s a brief pause before Lance turns back to Keith again and asks “Will you tell me the story?” 

This time Lance doesn’t look away. His gaze is fixed on Keith and the expression he’s making and the tone of voice he’s using isn’t quite as unfamiliar to Keith anymore as it was four months back. In fact, he gives Keith that look every night they sit together under the stars, and sometimes throughout the day when he thinks no one is looking, or when he catches Keith laughing at one of his jokes. Lance looks at Keith like precious, like he’s the most beautiful thing in the universe and it never fails to make Keith’s mouth go dry or increase his heartrate.

“You don’t want to hear me ramble about some random Greek tragedy.” He can’t look away from those eyes. Who awarded Lance the right to have such perfect blue eyes? They’re the pools of water you land in when you’ve followed the river down the waterfall and Keith has never been a strong swimmer. It’s not fair.

“I do.” Lance sounds so sincere. Why does he have to sound like that? Why is his voice so soft and fond? Two syllables came out of that mouth. Simple words, three letters, one space between the first and the last two when written down, and they still manage to knock the breath from Keith’ s lungs. 

When it’s just him and Keith, Lance is different. The obnoxious jokes, and the issuing of lame little competitions between the two of them, and the occasional bickering are all still there even when they’re alone. Keith just feels like there’s something…extra. Like bonus content you only get when you’ve purchased the collector’s edition of a game or something. Lance’s edges get softer and he’s more honest about what he’s feeling when no one else is in the room. He’s  a little more sincere, more prone to being serious, and it’s stunning.

“Please? I like to hear your voice.” Keith still can’t manage to tear his eyes away from the boy sitting next to him, and he knows. He knows that he’s beat red. It’s so, so embarrassing, but he still takes a deep breath when his lungs figure out how they’re supposed to work again and he starts telling the story. 

“So, you were right. Orpheus was a musician, but not like any run of the mill musician, he was the best harpist in all of Greece, even the gods acknowledged his talents.” Lance whistles and Keith tries very hard to not be distracted by the way his lips pucker to make the sound. “Umm…. So, on his wedding day his wife, Eurydice, got separated from the wedding party and got bit on the heel by a snake while she was running away from a Satyr with… less that pure intentions and died.”

“That’s awful.” It’ s almost a whisper.

“Yeah, it really is.” Keith pauses for a moment to silently mourn a fictional nymph. Which, okay yeah it’s probably dumb, but whatever. If Keith had learned anything in the last six months of constant warfare, it’s that patience yields focus and you should always respect the dead. He continues, “Anyways, Orpheus was so heartbroken that he decided to take a journey to the underworld to strike a bargain with Hades to get her back. So when he got there he just started playing this song, and it was so beautiful that even the stones around them start crying and it moved both Hades and his wife Persephone’s hearts or whatever, so Hades cut him a deal.”

“He told Orpheus that if he started walking to the gates of Hell Eurydice would follow behind him and be returned to the world of the living, but only if he didn’t look back at her until they were both out of Hades’ domain. So he walked and walked and had to keep reminding himself that no matter how much his heart told him to, he couldn’t look back. So, when he reached the upperworld he finally looked back, except he forgot to account for the fact that Eurydice could be farther than a foot behind him. She hadn’t reached the entry yet, so she was dragged back down to stay in the world of the dead.”

Lance makes a small sound, whining sound. It’s the same sound Lance always makes when he hears something sad or sees wounds on a comrade after a battle. Keith reaches a hand out to push Lance’s bangs back partly because he knows it’s the easiest way to sooth the blue paladin, and partly because it was an excuse to touch him.

He pulls his hand back, not without reluctance but he still has the rest of the story to tell and being mesmerized by Lance melting under his fingertips would be a little too distracting for Keith to remember how words work. “After that he only ever played sad music. There are a few different versions of how the myth ends, but the one that’s told most often is that in his grief he didn’t pay tribute to the god of wine and he was torn limb from limb as punishment. The muses carried his harp into the sky to form Lyra and immortalize Orphus’s tragedy in the night sky.”

All at once there’s a weight on Keith’s side that was not previously there. Lance had closed the small space between them so that he could rest his head against Keith’s should and lean into him. 

Lance makes an amused sound. “Of course your favorite constellation in the sky would be the one with the with the most depressing love story behind it.”

Keith furrows his brow. He’s been pointing out different constellations all night and he just doesn’t get how Lance picked out his favorite one so easily. His heart does something weird again. It’s painful and also…  pleasant? warm? nice? 

Keith does it too, though. Off of the top of his head he could tell you that Lance hates everything remotely flavored like cooked carrots, but will eat anything that tastes like raw ones. He could write poems about how Lance always worries his bottom lip with his teeth when he’s not quite sure what to say. He could almost list all of the names of the people in Lance’s absurdly large family in alphabetical order and tell you at least two facts about each one of them. Keith could tell you all about how Lance mumbles under his breath in Spanish when he’s scared or exhausted. It wouldn’t sound as pretty, but he could hum you all of the songs Lance sings when he’s happy.

Keith know without a shadow of a doubt why he remembers every tiny detail that Lance has ever revealed to him. There wasn’t a specific moment he realized he was in love with Lance, it had been happening slowly for a long time now. And, yeah, Keith thinks he has an idea as to  why Lance knows so many small truths about him too. He’s just… never asked for confirmation. So he plays with the velcro on his gloves for split second before deciding to take them off completely and setting them aside. He burns a hole in the projected image of Earth’s sun and bites the bullet.

“Why do you keep doing that?”

Lance lifts his head from Keith’s should and settles his chin in it’s place so that he gets a better view of Keith’s profile. “Doing what?”

Keith musters up the courage to turn his face and look directly into Lance’s eyes. Their noses are almost touching now. “Noticing all of these… I don’t know, these like, obscure little things about me that no one else notices. Like knowing I like black space jellies when I’ve never actually vocalized anything about that, or remember when Hunk tried to shove that plant in my face so I could smell it and you swatted it out of his hands because it looked like a tulip and you remembered I was allergic to them. Or knowing that my favorite color is blue and that my least favorite is burnt orange.”

“To be fair burnt orange is an awful color in general.”

“Okay, yeah, but you always know when I’m upset, or nervous, or happy because of some weird hand gesture that I usually don’t even know I’m doing until you point it out. Why do you know all of those things Lance? Why do you remember them?”

One of Lance’s eyebrows quirks up and he teases, “Do you really want to know?”

Keith let’s out an exasperated breath. “Well, I asked didn’t I? So yeah Lance, I want to know.”

The smirk falls off of Lace’s face and he shifts himself to sit on his feet so that his body is facing Keith’s. Lace keeps his eyes trained on the floor, looking like he’s waging some sort of internal battle, and when he finally looks back up at Keith there’s determination burning in his expression and maybe a little fear. 

Lance opens his mouth to speak…and then he closes it. He does this four times before bringing his folded hands up from his lap to cover his face. Lance complains into his hands in hushed Spanish. 

When he peaks out from between his fingers and then drops them uselessly back in his lap, his cheeks and ears are an adorable shade of red and he smiles at Keith sheepishly. “You know, for someone who talks so much, I’m really not all that great with words when it comes to stuff like this.” 

The words are accompanied by a self deprecating laugh. Keith frowns and tries to make his voice sound encouraging when he says “Take your time.”

Lance smiles, but there’s a bitter edge to it. “That’s the thing though, all I’ve been doing is taking my time. I’m kind of sick of it honestly. I keep trying to find the exact right words to say to you and I practice in my head and then as soon as I consider opening my mouth to say it, I just forget how to talk or I say something dumb. And it’s just so ridiculous, you know? Because it doesn’t have to be some drawn out dramatic speech like I keep telling myself. It’s actually just so stupidly simple and I don’t get why I’m so scared to mess it up. But really, how hard is it to say “because” and follow it up with three words? I look at you an I just…” Lance stares at him. “I just…” Lance lifts his hands and places them on either side of Keith’s face. 

Keith’s heart is trying to make its great escape by bludgeoning it’s way out of his chest. He’s pretty sure his entire rib cage is turning to dust and his body is down a set of lungs. They’ve just ceased existing. What are lungs? No clue, never heard of them.

“Keith.” Lance’s voice cracks just a little when he says the name and he swallows and starts again. “Keith. Keith Kogane. My buddy, my pal. I know that you have a sweet tooth, and that you love a good hug but don’t know how to ask for one when you need it. I know that you’re smart, and talented, and think butterscotch candies are the sole creation of the devil himself.”

Keith can’t help the laughter that escapes him and it makes Lance smile the way he always does when Keith so much as chuckles.

“I know that you have the best laugh I’ve ever heard. You have no idea how much I love that laugh. Seriously. I know you collect snow globes, and love conspiracy theories-”

“They’re not all just theories Lance, there’s a lot of evidence out -”

“Shhhhhh, you asked me a question and I’m trying to answer it and I’m kind of on a roll after mumbling for five minutes about how this wasn’t going to be some drawn out thing. But I’m just focusing on you instead of some practiced speech and I’m actually forming mildly coherent sentences, so be quiet. I haven’t even gotten to the best part yet.”

“I know a bunch of tiny little facts about you, and yeah sure part of that is because I’m super observant and totally cool,” he winks, “but I notice all of those things specially about you because…” Lance swallows hard and takes a calming breath. “I lo-”

Keith has been told many times that he gives into impulses too quickly, that he’s too impatient. And…yeah, it’s true, absolutely, and he’s working on it. No, really, he is! Try as he might though, he couldn’t handle another second of wanting to kiss Lance and not doing it when the opportunity clearly presented itself. 

It’s not the smoothest first kiss, but it’s not all teeth and bumping noses either, and it leads into soft drawn out kisses, and kisses that can barely even be called that because the two of them are grinning so wide. 

When Keith pulls away a faux pouty expression take over Lance’s face. “You didn’t even let me finish.” He starts to waggle his eyebrows in the most obnoxious way possible and says “These lips were just irresistible huh? I guess I’m just too smoochable.”

How the hell does Keith find this so cute? 

“Hey, Keith?” 

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

public high school gothic

It is the dead of winter, and they will not turn the heat on. They say it costs too much money. The windows are coated with frost, your fingertips are blackening, the teacher is slumped at her desk, yet the thermostat remains constant. Your classmates are frozen to their seats. A boy walks into class late, and he is wearing basketball shorts.

The words on the whiteboard do not make any sense, they are jumbled and written in a different language. Around you, classmates take notes, oblivious to your distress. You are the only one who does not understand. You beg the teacher for help, and he babbles at you in an alien tongue. There will be a test.

A girl sits in the desk in front of you, and you see she is wearing shorts that do not cover her knees. Her knees are too bright, they are naked, they are blinding you, they are all you can see. You try to concentrate on schoolwork, but you cannot. Her knees are too distracting. Foam forms on your lip and your vision darkens as her bra strap creeps down her shoulder.

The teacher refuses to let you go to bathroom. “You have to wait until the person before you comes back,” she says. The person before you left hours ago. The teacher will not meet your eyes.

You must not talk during the standardized test. You must not mark the page outside of the bubbles in their neat rows. You must not write outside of the box. You must not use scrap paper. You must not have your phone on you. If you do, they will invalidate your results, they will destroy your test booklet, they will take your loved ones.