And your heart breaks
They say that heartbreak comes from the ones you love the most, but you know better. Heartbreak is something you have known for a very long time, and heartbreak is something you know that you will never forget. Not when it comes from the people that you have been told you can trust, from the team that supposedly has your back, Lance! Heartbreak is when you are piloting Blue, and you are surrounded, hundreds of purple and black ships the only thing you can see. Heartbreak is when the others are shouting over the comms and as you ask for help, they do not listen – heartbreak is when the others are free to help but they flank around Green, who is pulling a slave transport ship away from the main transport.
Heartbreak is when you choose to fight your way through, sending beams of ice and sonic waves that scatter and shatter Galra ships across the expanse of space, and you still can find no escape. It is when you look up one last time, send across one last plea for help and get told to hold them off Lance, can’t you even do that?! Heartbreak is when you hear the charge of an ion cannon and find yourself unable to move. But that is not all that heartbreak is. Because your heart has not broken then, only cracked into pieces that you feel are choking your lungs even as you brace yourself for the pain of the ion cannon. No, your heart breaks the moment Blue goes offline, and you still see that your friends have not noticed the predicament you are in. It is when Blue begins to drift, energy pooling into her as the comm systems come back online, and you hear the sound of your name being shouted. It pulls at your awareness for a moment, though you let go of the awareness when you hear Shiro’s disappointed voice. “…why can’t you listen, Lance? We’ve been calling you for the past ten minutes!”
But still you find yourself waking with the cool hiss of the healing pod and stumbling out. The moment your heart breaks is upon you now, though you do not know it. Because your heart, despite it all, is resilient, and willing to hold onto the hope that one day, maybe one, your team will look over, and realize that you are not what they think you are. That the face you put on is a mask, and one that has begun to crack the day you stepped into the Castle of Lions. But even your heart cannot hold onto hope when the first thing you see is the backs of your teammates (so like the first time you were placed in the pod, when you came to see them huddled around a “ticker”), and the first thing you hear comes from Keith’s mouth. “Lance can’t come out of the pod any sooner, can he? He’s always in there!”
And your heart crumbles.