What a Wonderful Space
Lance POV Klance one shot because the world needs a little more of ukulele playing boys.
Also Langst turned fluff so it ends happy :)
It’s funny really, how a simple word can mean different things to different people, depending on who you asked.
Space, for example, has multiple definitions, and Lance pondered them as he wandered about the castle; a moment of reprieve in the chaos around them as the war waged on.
Once, when he was very young, space had simply meant night, when the stars would fade into view one by one, and he was able to count them, until suddenly he would blink and the entire sky would be a canvas of glowing specks that he would eagerly wish upon.
‘One day I’ll go to space,’ he would confess, and if he wasn’t alone, his family would smile.
Then, there had been a point in his life where he had used the term to mean privacy; an escape when the trials of adolescence became too much to bare.
‘I just need some space,’ he would say, and if he was lucky, his family would oblige.
There were other times when the word had held ownership, and he would use it to claim an area he felt he had a right over.
‘This is my room. My space,’ or, ‘I was here first, get your own space,’ and if he was convincing enough, his family would let him have it.
If one were to look up the actual definition of the word though, it would read: a continuous area or expanse that is free, available, or unoccupied, which didn’t make much sense to Lance, since right underneath that, there exists a second option that defines space as: the dimensions of height, depth, and width within which all things exist and move.
Weren’t those two contradicting ideas? How can space be a void within which there is nothing, and yet everything? What happened to space once it was filled? And if there was no one around to fill the space, did it really count as space?
He did, however, understand how one could take up space and still be defined as empty, since he was living proof. Walking the halls of an ancient alien ship with nothing but his thoughts for comfort, Lance could relate a little too well to the idea of being lost in literal and metaphorical space, existing and moving, and yet still so… unoccupied.
There and yet…not.
He was the living embodiment of the word.
“I’m sick of space,” he whispered, but no matter how miserable he sounded, his family was no longer there to hear, and the words fell unnoticed from his tongue.