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7 (Pito)

Hindi ko alam kung paano ko sisimulan,
Pero sana hanggang dulo’y iyong pakinggan

Pinagtagpo ng tadhana,
Pinaglayo ng distansya

Malayo ka man mahal,
Akin ka lamang, hindi para kanino man

Malabo man ang ating mata,
Gagawa tayo ng istorya..

Isa, ikaw lang ang tanging nagsambit sa akin salitang “parangarap kita”

Dalawa, hatid mo’y ligaya kapag nakikita kitang tumatawa

Tatlo, ako’y muling nahulog pero iyong sinalo

Apat, makasarili man pakinggan pero sa akin ka lang nararapat

Lima, sa araw man, tanghali o gabi ikaw lang ang nais kong makasama

Anim, himpapawid ay liliparin, dagat ay lalanguyin gaano man ito kalalim

Pito, mula ng makilala kita puso’t isip ko ay hindi na nalilito.

— mau

Work Harder #7 ~Langst

Trigger warnings:

Implied/referenced self harm (Impulse Control Disorder)

Self depreciating thoughts

~

“Start training level 47.”

It had been three months since the Keith Accident.

It had been two months from the Pidge Accident.

It had been one month and thirty days since he skipped a solo lesson.

It was starting to become noticeable in his physical appearance. While Lance’s muscled were further defined, his lack of appetite kept him small and slender. Dark bags that were far worse than any Pidge had ever gotten hung from his eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept, at least enough to have a nightmare. Normally he passes out for 20-40 minutes.

It was worse mentally.

His lack of sleep caused his thinking to slow, causing him to be unable to form complete sentences. However, the lack caused his reflexes to sharpen but his body was too exhausted to actually move in time with them.

His arms and legs constantly burned but not from the training bot ( that too but this was different.)

His thoughts were occupied by self deprecating ideas. They told him that he was nothing and that he was inadequate compared to the rest of the residents in the Castle of Lions.

Lance tore the gladiators apart. It took 20 seconds to take out all three of them. A screen popped up, telling him where he aimed and what injuries would have occurred had the gladiator actually been a living being.

“A little to the left,” he mumbled to himself, trying to keep himself upright. His knees gave out beneath him, “just one more-“

“Lance?”

Said boy jumped, his knees leaving the ground for just a second. He placed his hands on the ground lifting himself and scrambling to get up, “Sir.” He still refused to look at the other.

“I thought I told you to stop calling me that.”

Lance kept his gaze to the floor, “I’m sorry.”

Shiro cocked his head to the side, “why? Lance, you don’t have to apologize for every little thing you do.”

“Sorry,” The Cuban could help but say. He wrapped his arms around him, not knowing where exactly to place the long limbs. He could feel the slight itch he felt constantly grow larger as Shiro neared him. He gripped his hands around his forearm and dug into the black suit under it.

Shiro shook his head, “Lance… you need to wear your armor when you train. What if something hits you and you get seriously injured and no one’s nearby to help you?” Concerned dripped steadily in his tone. He walked toward the younger and placed a hand on his shoulder. If he felt the slight flinch Lance gave then he ignored it.

Lance almost laughed at the idea of someone coming in and finding him bleeding on the floor and actually caring. Maybe Hunk would be a little sad but only for a day or two. “It weighs me down.”

Shiro moved again and placed his hands around the younger’s head. He lifted Lance’s head so that the Cuban could look him in the eye, “What’s wrong.” He didn’t ask. He demanded.

Lance took in the sight of the Black Paladin. His hair was growing in a bit and his eye lashes were as thick as ever, “Nothing, Si-“ he cut himself off before he could use the title he grew accustomed to, “Shiro.”

“Lance,” he warned, his tone deep.

Lance wrapped his hands around Shiro’s wrist before gently pulling them away from the smooth skin. He kept his hand on Shiro’s, watching as he slowly dragged them down between them. Shiro’s robotic jjarm felt cool against his warm one while his human hand was the opposite. He stayed in silence trying to collect his thoughts, “It’s best if I leave the team.”

He felt Shiro’s grasp weaken before they grabbed tightly onto his own, “What?” Shiro’s heart pained at the declaration, “Lance no-“

“I keep everyone from improving, Shiro,” Lance cut off the older. He no longer held onto Shiro’s hand but Shiro kept him in his clutch.

Shiro searched desperately for any sign of joking. It completely hit him when he could find it.

“Who’s going to pilot the Blue Lion if you leave, Lance? Who!” Shiro was panicking. He would lose another team.

“I’m just a place holder, Shiro. Blue’d waiting for her real paladin and she can’t do that if I’m in the way,” Lance argued back. He ripped his hands away from Shiro’s and stepped back.

“Please, Lance, we need you!” Shiro yelled desperately. His panic causing him to lose all self-control. He marveled at Lance’s calmness. Never once raising his voice or stepping out of line.

He gave a smile, a gesture so small yet so significant to the older. Shiro’s blood ran cold at the next words uttered from Lance’s mouth.

“You haven’t needed me in a long time.”

“Lance…” Shiro trailed off, his mind unable to comprehend anything that was happening. “The universe needs you.”

Lance’s smile dropped, leaving the expressionless face that unnerved not only Shiro but all of the paladins and Altean’s. “The universe needs voltron, Shiro. I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

“But-“ Shiro called out desperately, a final attempt at getting Lance to look up.

“Goodnight, Sir. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

The door closed behind the Cuban, leaving the other to stand in a shocked silence.