Chapter Text
Title: The Way He Looks at Me
Author: KeithyKeefers
Genres: LGBTQ+ Romance
Tropes: Mutual Pining, Oblivious to Each other
Keith woke up before the sun.
His bedroom was still shadowed in that quiet, bluish light that only belonged to early mornings—the kind that made everything feel a little softer, a little slower, like the world hadn’t quite remembered how to be loud yet. The alarm on his phone hadn’t gone off. It never did on Saturdays. But his body had its own rhythm, and this was part of it.
He sat up slowly, sheets slipping down his shoulders, the air cool against his skin. A soft woof came from the floor beside his bed.
"Hey, boy," Keith mumbled, smiling sleepily.
Kosmo, his Husky, wagged his tail in slow, lazy thumps against the floor. He stretched—one long, groaning motion—then trotted over to rest his head on Keith`s knee. His eyes, honey-brown and already patient, looked up at him like he’d been waiting all night for this.
“Alright,” he said, scratching behind kosmo`s ears, “walk time.”
Downstairs, the house was quiet. Keith`s mom wouldn’t be up for another couple hours, and the hum of the fridge was the only sound besides the soft click of Kosmo’s paws on the hardwood. Keith pulled on an old hoodie—the navy one with the tiny bleach stain on the sleeve—and tugged his hair into something that looked passably neat under a beanie. Then he clipped on Kosmo’s leash and stepped out into the morning.
The air outside was crisp, edged with the last bits of winter despite the calendar insisting it was spring. Their small town still clung to silence at this hour. Cars sat quietly in driveways, front lawns were silver with dew, and the sky overhead was streaked with faint lavender and pale gold, like it hadn’t quite decided how bright it wanted to be yet.
Keith walked the familiar route through his neighborhood. Kosmo trotted beside him, occasionally stopping to sniff mailbox posts or tug toward a squirrel he’d never catch. Keith didn’t mind. He liked the slowness. The space to think. The way the world felt paused.
He watched his breath rise in little clouds and thought about how different things felt lately. How school was just a blur of half-finished essays and forced smiles. How he felt like he was floating outside his own life most days—just... existing. Going through motions.
But out here, with Kosmo, he could just be.
And that was enough—until it wasn’t.
They turned the corner onto Maple Lane, and Keith caught movement across the street—a guy, maybe his age, maybe a little younger, bundled up in a blue oversized hoodie, walking on the sidewalk. Keith hadn’t seen him before. Which was weird. Their town wasn’t exactly a bustling metropolis. There was a softness to him that couldn’t be ignored—his caramel skin smooth and radiant, almost glowing in the light. His big brown eyes were wide and expressive, framed by long lashes that fluttered like delicate wings. His curly brown hair tumbled in perfect, carefree waves around his face, soft and full of life, giving him a look that was both playful and enchanting.
The guy glanced up right as Kosmo decided to bark—once, loud and excited. Keith flushed, startled by the sound.
And the guy?
He smiled.
Quick, effortless. One of those smiles that hit like sunlight after days of rain.
Then he kept walking.
Keith stood there for a moment longer than he meant to, hand still on Kosmo’s leash, the morning suddenly feeling a lot warmer than it had a second ago.
..
Keith barely remembered the rest of the walk home.
His brain was stuck in a loop—*the guy, the smile, the way his hoodie had been too big and bunched at the wrists, the freaking dimple when he smiled*. It wasn’t even that big of a moment. Just a glance. A smile. A stranger.
But still.
Keith had seen that kind of smile in movies. Or sketches he didn’t let anyone see. The kind of smile you rewound in your head until it played behind your eyelids.
By the time he and Kosmo rounded the corner back to their street, Keith’s ears were pink, and he’d caught himself grinning at absolutely nothing at least three times.
He opened the front door and Kosmo immediately charged in, shaking his fur dramatically like he’d just trekked through a blizzard instead of their sleepy neighborhood. His claws skidded on the hardwood as he made a beeline for the kitchen.
Keith was about to call after him when—
"You're smiling."
A voice came from the living room.
Keith turned to find Shiro stretched out on the couch, a half-finished cup of coffee in one hand, blanket over his legs, and the exact kind of older-brother grin that said *I’m going to tease you*. Keith loved when his brother came to visit, but right now, with that evil look on Shiro's face, he can't help but wish he weren't there.
“I’m not,” Keith muttered, kicking off his shoes and trying not to look like he’d been emotionally compromised by a stranger in a red hoodie.
“You’re *definitely* smiling. Like, weirdly.” Shiro leaned forward. “You met someone, didn’t you?”
Keith scoffed, grabbing a towel from the hook by the door to wipe Kosmo’s paws. “No.”
“Kosmo’s smiling too.”
“Shiro, dogs don’t smile.”
“Kosmo does. He gets it from you.”
Keith huffed and knelt to clean the dirt off Kosmo’s giant paws. The husky licked his face like he hadn’t just dragged him halfway across the block chasing a squirrel.
Shiro kept going, unbothered. “Okay, wait. Let me guess. Early morning dog-walking meet cute. Hot guy. Tragic eye contact. You panicked and forgot how to speak?”
Keith paused.
That was… uncomfortably accurate.
“…I didn’t panic.”
“Oh my god,” Shiro said, sitting up fully now. “You totally did.”
Keith threw the towel at his face. “Shut up.”
Shiro laughed, catching it one-handed. “You gonna see him again?”
Keith tried to act unaffected, but he couldn’t help the little upward twitch of his mouth.
“Maybe,” he said softly. “If I’m lucky.”
Shiro grinned again, softer this time. Less teasing. “Then you better start waking up early more often.”
Keith looked down at Kosmo, who was now curled up like a loaf in front of the heater.
“Yeah,” he said. “I think I will.”
---
Three weeks. Twenty-one mornings.
Keith had counted.
Every single day, he’d taken Kosmo out at the same time, walked the exact same route—down Pine, left on Maple, past the yellow mailbox and the cracked sidewalk where Kosmo always tried to eat a rock. Every single day, he looked.
And hoodie guy?
Gone. No sign. Like he’d never existed. Just a smile Keith might’ve dreamed.
By now, the early mornings felt colder. Not just in temperature, but in feeling. Like the hope he’d built up was slowly draining out of him, leaving behind just the quiet ache of *almost*.
Keith dropped onto the couch with a sigh, flopping back hard enough to jostle Kosmo, who let out a disgruntled “*hrrff*” from where he was napping. Shiro was in the kitchen pouring iced coffee into a glass like he was prepping for a summer picnic, not mid-April weather.
“You’re doing the mopey thing again,” Shiro called out.
Keith rolled his eyes at the ceiling. “I’m not mopey.”
“You sighed like a Victorian widow.”
“I *always* sigh.”
“Yeah, but usually with less longing.”
Keith threw a pillow at him.
Shiro ducked and leaned in the doorway, sipping his drink. “Come with me and Adam to the mall.”
Keith blinked. “Why?”
“Because you need to remember that there are other cute guys in the world. Also because Adam wants pretzels.”
Keith frowned. “Third-wheeling with you and your boyfriend sounds like a weird way to fix my mood.”
Shiro just raised an eyebrow. “You’re an attractive guy, Keith. It’s a public service.”
---
Later, at the mall:
Keith didn’t mean to turn heads.
He’d thrown on his favorite oversized flannel, worn thin from years of use, but still somehow perfect with the sleeves rolled up to reveal tattoos that were barely visible unless you knew where to look. Underneath, a black graphic tee—ripped at the collar—showed off just a hint of his chest. His old pair of faded, ripped skinny jeans clung to his legs, slightly frayed at the ankles from dragging over his boots. His Converse sneakers were scuffed to hell but somehow still looked intentional. His hair was a mess of curls, a beanie pulled slightly askew, and he had a thick silver chain around his neck, because it seemed like something he’d throw on without thinking.
He looked like he’d walked off the set of a band rehearsal, all hard edges and soft melancholy.
As soon as they entered the mall, Keith felt eyes on him. The kind of attention he usually avoided, not because he didn’t like it—but because it always felt a little too... shallow. People didn’t see him. They saw the aesthetic. The rough-around-the-edges grunge boy with a slightly dark vibe.
And maybe that was why he couldn’t stop feeling like he was a walking cliché.
Adam and Shiro, on the other hand, didn’t seem to notice—or if they did, they were too used to it to care.
Keith’s eyes flicked around, trying to shake the feeling. But as they moved through the crowds, the looks kept coming. A girl at the coffee stand smiled at him as he passed, her gaze lingering a little too long. A guy near the hot-topic-style store gave him a head-to-toe look that made Keith's skin prickle, and then, as if to punctuate it, he flicked his lip ring before winking. A third guy—dressed like he belonged in a skate park—gave him a full once-over as he passed and then nodded like he approved.
Keith wasn’t used to this. Not this much.
“Okay, look at you,” Adam said, linking arms with Shiro. “All grumpy-hot, like someone who’d break my heart in an indie film.”
Keith blinked. “That’s... not a thing.”
“It *absolutely* is,” Adam said.
Shiro nudged him. “Told you.”
The mall was buzzing, and to Keith’s surprise, people actually *looked* at him. Like, turned-heads, second-glances kind of looking. He got two smiles from guys near the food court. One girl winked. Someone at the pretzel stand handed him their number with a mustard packet attached. Shiro just laughed the entire time like a proud stage mom.
And Keith?
He didn’t know what to do with it.
It felt weird. Nice, sure. But kind of... distant. Like people were seeing his body, his face, but not *him*.
He kept the napkin with the number, though. Just in case.
As they sat at a table at the mall food court, Adam tearing into his cinnamon pretzel like it had personally wronged him. Shiro and Keith just ordered some pizza.
The mall food court was as chaotic as always—loud chatter, trays clattering, the faint smell of pretzels and pizza wafting through the air. Keith had already grabbed a slice of pizza, trying to enjoy the few minutes of quiet before Shiro and Adam inevitably dragged him into some conversation that had him feeling like a third wheel. He wasn’t in the mood for the usual chatter, but he didn’t mind being here—because, for once, the crowd of people around him helped drown out the thought of *that smile*. The smile he’d been replaying over and over for the last few weeks.
"These pretzels are so good, I swear," Adam said, grabbing a piece from the paper bag and waving it in Keith’s face. His usual enthusiasm was contagious. “You have no idea how long I’ve been craving one of these.”
Keith barely looked up, chewing a mouthful of pizza. “I’m more of a pizza guy,” he muttered, scanning the area as if the extra pepperoni could distract him from his own brain.
Shiro grinned, pulling the corner of a napkin out of the bag. “See, *this* is why you’re grumpy all the time. You’re not living your best life. You’re just surviving.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I’m surviving in *style*,” Keith said with a smirk, gesturing to his grunge outfit like he was showing off a badge of honor. He was only half-joking—he did feel kind of good in it, but there was something about today that made him feel... exposed.
Adam snickered, nodding toward Keith’s boots. “He’s not wrong. Those are some legendary *I’m-too-cool-for-this* boots, my guy.”
“Shut up.” Keith rolled his eyes, but the compliment still made his chest warm, even if it was a little ridiculous.
Shiro sighed, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Okay, okay. Enjoy your moment. But really—if you keep sulking, Adam and I might have to stage an intervention.”
“Intervention? For what? I’m not a *sulker*.”
“Right,” Shiro said with that same, knowing smile. “Definitely not.”
They kept eating, and the conversation drifted, as conversations do. Adam was talking about some stupid viral video he’d seen while scrolling through his phone. Adam’s phone buzzed on the table.
Adam’s eyes lit up immediately as he glanced down at the screen.
“Oh! It’s Lance!” Adam said, grinning wide. “He’s finally texting me back!”
Keith blinked, momentarily confused by Adam’s sudden enthusiasm. “Lance?”
“Yeah!” Adam’s face was practically glowing now. “Lance is my childhood best friend. We haven’t seen each other in ages. He’s moved back in town, and he’s running a bit late, but he’s on his way! I haven’t seen this guy in—” He paused to check his phone, “—almost a year! I’m so stoked.”
Keith exchanged a curious glance with Shiro. “I didn’t know you had a best friend named Lance.”
Shiro chuckled. “I didn’t either. But if he’s anything like Adam, I’m sure we’ll be hearing a lot more about him in the next ten minutes.”
“Shut up, I’m just excited!” Adam swatted at Shiro, but the smile didn’t leave his face. “You two are gonna love him. He’s like the human version of a golden retriever. Super easygoing, makes bad jokes, but you can’t help but love him. Total goofball.”
Keith couldn’t help but smile at Adam’s infectious energy. It was obvious how much he cared about this friend, and for a moment, Keith was almost envious of how easily Adam was able to be excited about something.
“So, what’s the plan when he gets here?” Keith asked, taking another bite of his pizza.
“Uh, well, I was thinking of just hanging out,” Adam said, his focus still on his phone. “Maybe grab some food, catch up. We’re gonna try to make the most of it.”
“Sounds like fun,” Shiro said, leaning back in his seat. “I’m in.”
Keith nodded along. “Yeah, sure.”
Adam quickly typed out another message, then looked up at the two of them. “Sorry, he’s just running a bit late, but he’s almost here. He’s really excited to see me, and I’m excited to see him. It’s been way too long.”
Keith’s thoughts drifted again, but this time, he couldn’t help wondering what kind of guy Lance was—someone who could get Adam so excited to the point of practically bouncing out of his seat. It felt strange, to be included in something so... open. So honest.
It wasn’t long before the conversation lulled again, the three of them finishing up their food. And just as they were starting to relax, Adam’s phone buzzed once more.
“Ah, here we go!” Adam practically jumped up, scanning the message. “Lance says he’s here! Let’s go meet him!”
Keith and Shiro exchanged a glance. Adam was practically vibrating with energy, already moving toward the door.
Keith followed slowly, his curiosity still gnawing at him. It wasn’t until they were outside the food court and Adam’s eyes scanned the crowd, looking for someone, that he realized—this was it. They made their way toward the entrance of the food court, and just as Adam turned the corner, his eyes locked on someone standing just outside. A guy with soft, dark hair, casually tousled, wearing a fitted black shirt that accented his slim frame.
He was wearing a chunky silver necklace, a pair of skinny jeans that somehow looked effortlessly stylish, and his boots were polished to a shine. But it was his face that took Keith by surprise.
His long, dark lashes were coated in mascara, making his eyes pop in a way Keith couldn’t quite put into words. A sheen of something glossy covered his lips, giving them a soft, irresistible glow. Keith couldn’t tell if it was lip gloss or something else, but it made the guy look almost... ethereal.
The stranger smiled, and Keith’s heart skipped a beat. There was something undeniably magnetic about him—a blend of softness and confidence that was captivating.
The guy caught sight of Adam and immediately lit up, waving energetically. Keith’s stomach tightened, and for a moment, he was completely frozen in place, his heart beating in double time.
“Adam!” the guy called out, his voice light and breezy. As he approached, Keith could see how delicate the guy’s features were—sharp cheekbones, a soft jawline—and the smile was like a burst of sunshine. He looked... perfect.
And then, he looked at Keith.
Keith’s breath caught in his throat, his eyes locking with the guy’s for the briefest of moments. That smile—that same exact smile he had been replaying over and over again in his head for the past few weeks.
Oh my god.
It was him. The guy with the smile that made Keith’s heart race every time he thought about it.
Keith could barely keep his composure as the realization hit him. He wasn’t just some stranger. This was him. The guy he had been hoping to see again, and now here he was, standing just a few feet away.
The guy’s gaze lingered on Keith for a second longer before he snapped his attention back to Adam, but Keith was still processing it all. This was the guy.
Adam waved Keith over, pulling him out of his stupor. “Keith, Shiro—this is Lance. Lance, meet my friends.”
Lance’s eyes landed on Keith again, and this time, he gave him a soft smile, one that was warm and inviting.
“Hey,” Lance greeted, his voice lilting with a playful edge. “Nice to meet you.”
Keith, completely flustered, just nodded. His heart pounded in his chest, and he felt himself go red, trying desperately to find his voice, but it escaped him every time.
Lance chuckled, sensing Keith’s awkwardness, but it was a gentle, teasing laugh. “I guess I’m really making an impression, huh?”
Keith’s mind was a blur, and he just nodded again. Oh god, why can’t I say anything normal?
Shiro, who had been standing quietly, snorted. “Don’t mind him. He’s just trying to act cool, but inside he’s a mess.”
Keith shot Shiro a glare, but it did little to mask the flush on his face. This was going to be so much harder than he thought.
Got it! Let's dive into that scene where Keith is *softly gay panicking* and also trying to maintain his composure while subtly checking Lance out. Here’s the next scene:
As they walked Adam and Lance led the way, laughing and chatting like old friends who hadn’t seen each other in years—because, well, they hadn’t. Keith and Shiro followed behind them, a few paces back, and Keith found himself hyper-aware of the guy walking just ahead.
Lance was dressed in a fitted black shirt that clung to his body in all the right places—just tight enough to highlight the lean muscles in his arms, the slight curve of his waist. He was wearing a pair of sleek black jeans that made his legs look *too* long, and his boots were polished and perfectly styled. But it wasn’t just his outfit that had Keith’s attention.
It was how Lance moved—effortlessly confident, with an easy sway in his walk that somehow made everything around him seem to slow down. Keith couldn’t help it. His eyes lingered on Lance’s figure as they moved, the way his jeans fit just *right*, the subtle curve of his hips as he walked ahead.
Keith’s heart was hammering in his chest. He wasn’t even sure why he was panicking this much. It wasn’t like he was a stranger to being attracted to people, but *this*—this was different. Lance was different. He was exactly the kind of person Keith had *never* imagined would be walking right next to him. He was so... *perfect*.
“Shiro,” Keith whispered, his voice strained, trying to keep it low enough that Adam and Lance wouldn’t hear. “That’s him. That’s the guy I was telling you about.”
Shiro glanced at Keith, an eyebrow quirked in curiosity, before following his gaze. It only took a moment before he grinned—wide and mischievous—as he saw exactly who Keith was talking about.
“The guy from your walk?” Shiro’s voice dropped into a teasing whisper, though it was clear he was trying not to laugh.
Keith’s face flushed red. “Yes, that’s him! He’s *right there*.” His eyes darted back to Lance, unable to resist. There it was again—the way Lance’s hips shifted as he walked, how his jeans hugged him in a way that made Keith’s pulse spike.
Shiro let out a soft chuckle. “Dude, you’re totally ogling him.”
“I’m not! I—” Keith immediately stopped himself, realizing how obvious it must be. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to act casual, but there was no way to deny it now. “I mean, he’s *right there*, Shiro! He’s... It’s like... it’s like he stepped out of my daydreams or something.”
Shiro smirked, watching Keith fluster with a raised eyebrow. “You know, you’re *really* obvious when you like someone.”
“I don’t like him!” Keith practically hissed, though his voice was soft, almost pleading. “I mean, I do... but... not like that. Okay, maybe like that, but—ugh.” Keith groaned, feeling the intense heat in his face. “This is insane.”
Shiro’s smirk widened, and he leaned in closer to Keith. “Dude, you are totally into him. I can *see* it. You’ve been acting all weird every time he looks at you.”
“I’m not acting weird!” Keith protested, though it sounded more like he was convincing himself than Shiro. “I’m just—he's... he’s just...”
“Just *what*?” Shiro’s teasing tone didn’t let up for a second.
Keith let out a deep sigh, his shoulders slumping as he leaned against the wall. “I don’t know, Shiro. I just... I don’t know what to do. He’s him, and he’s—he’s perfect, but he’s not gonna notice me. I mean, *look at him*! He’s—he’s *beautiful*. What am I supposed to do with that?”
Shiro glanced at Keith again, eyes narrowing with knowing amusement. “Bro, you’re basically *falling apart* in front of him. It’s kind of adorable.”
“I am not falling apart!” Keith snapped, but even as he said it, he couldn’t deny the nervous, fluttery feeling in his stomach every time Lance turned his head to speak with Adam, or even glanced in their direction. It felt like his heart was doing somersaults, and it was almost too much to handle.
At that moment, Lance happened to turn around, and Keith froze—his heart nearly stopped. Lance caught his eye and smiled that same smile that Keith had been thinking about every single day since their brief encounter at the park.
Keith couldn’t stop himself from staring. Lance’s smile was warm, a little playful, and there was something about it that made Keith’s chest tighten. The way his eyes softened when they locked with Keith’s made him feel like he was floating. His heart skipped a beat, and for a second, it felt like the rest of the world faded into the background.
“Hey, Keith,” Lance called out, his voice light and casual, with just a hint of that teasing edge. “You okay back there? You’re looking a little... red.”
Keith blinked, his face turning bright red. “I—uh—I’m fine!” he blurted, trying to compose himself, but his voice came out in a nervous stammer. “Just... just hot. Yeah, I’m fine.”
Shiro’s low chuckle came from beside him. “Smooth.”
Lance raised an eyebrow playfully. “If you say so,” he said, his gaze still lingering on Keith. It almost felt like Lance was teasing him, but Keith couldn't tell if he was imagining it or not.
Keith's mind was racing, and all he could think about was how *he*—Keith—was suddenly caught up in this whirlwind of feelings for a guy who was just... *too* perfect. He wanted to say something cool, something charming, but all that came out was a nervous laugh that made him sound even more ridiculous.
Adam, sensing the tension, glanced back with a grin. “Alright, alright, enough with the awkwardness. Lance and I wanted to go look at some clothes.”
Keith nodded, trying to act like everything was fine, though his heart was still racing. As they continued walking, he couldn’t help but steal another glance at Lance’s back, where his well-fitted jeans—*those jeans*—hugged his figure just right. He swallowed hard, trying not to blush any more than he already was.
Shiro leaned over to Keith, his voice low and teasing. “You know, if you don’t stop staring at him, you might burn a hole through the back of his shirt.”
Keith shot him a glare, but there was no denying it. His eyes kept drifting back to Lance, unable to look away. *What the hell was he supposed to do now?*
As they strolled through the mall, the group meandered from the food court toward one of the bigger clothing stores. Adam was practically bouncing with excitement, talking animatedly about how they really needed to upgrade Keith’s wardrobe.
“We’ve got to change it up, man. Trust me, you’ll be thanking me after this,” Adam said, waving his hands like he was on a mission.
Shiro shot Keith a knowing glance. “Get ready for Adam to style you,” he teased. “This is gonna be fun.”
Keith felt a bit of panic rise. Shopping was bad enough, but shopping with this group—especially Lance—was a whole new level of torture. He’d already worked himself into a nervous mess, just trying to act normal. It didn’t help that every time Lance looked back to check on the group, Keith’s stomach twisted. That smile—that smile—kept replaying in his head, making it nearly impossible to think straight.
Lance, meanwhile, was walking beside Adam, the two chatting easily. Every step Lance took seemed effortless, his body moving with a grace Keith couldn’t stop watching. His slim frame was accentuated by his black jeans that hugged his thighs just right. His boots—shiny, sleek—clicked against the polished floor.
Damn.
Keith could feel his pulse quicken, but he tried his best to focus on the conversation up ahead, trying not to look too much like a creeper.
“Keith,” Shiro whispered next to him, breaking his thoughts. “You’ve gotta stop staring at him like that.”
Keith snapped his head around. “I—what? I’m not staring!”
Shiro raised an eyebrow and snickered. “Bro, your eyes are glued to his back.”
“I—No, I’m not!” Keith’s voice was way too defensive, even for him. He quickly forced his eyes ahead, taking in the store in front of them instead. But even that couldn’t stop the heat spreading across his face.
As they entered the clothing store, Adam immediately pulled them all to a section with a selection of trendy, edgy clothes—completely the opposite of what Keith would normally pick out. Bright jackets, band tees, funky sweaters that practically screamed attention. Keith couldn’t help but feel out of place in such an overwhelming environment, but it was the only distraction from his growing anxiety.
Lance wandered over to the other side of the store, his movements fluid and light, like he owned the place. His gaze flickered over the shelves of jackets and shirts, casually picking up a few items. Every time Lance shifted, Keith’s heart thudded a little harder.
“Keith,” Shiro whispered again, nudging him with his elbow. “What is it with you and your weird gay panic whenever he moves?”
“I’m not panicking!” Keith muttered, though it was clear by the flush on his cheeks that he totally was. He shot a quick glance at Lance, who was now holding up a leather jacket against his body, inspecting it in front of a mirror.
Keith’s stomach did a flip. That jacket looks so good on him.
“Yeah, you are,” Shiro said, voice teasing. “You’ve been acting all weird every time he moves. I’m honestly shocked you haven’t dropped dead by now from all the blood rushing to your face.”
Keith rubbed his temples in frustration. “Shiro, can you just... not?”
But the truth was, Keith couldn’t help it. It wasn’t just how Lance looked—though, that was a huge part of it. It was how comfortable Lance seemed in his own skin. How easily he moved around the store, how confidently he made decisions about what he liked. It made Keith feel a little... out of place.
“Alright, Keith,” Adam said, approaching him with a grin that made Keith’s stomach tighten even more. “You’re up. I’m going to pick you out a killer outfit. Let’s make you look fresh.”
Keith swallowed nervously. He really wasn’t looking forward to being dressed up by Adam, but before he could protest, Adam was already pulling him toward the racks of clothes, dragging him like a helpless mannequin. “Come on, this will be fun!” Adam was practically glowing with excitement.
Shiro turned to Lance, grinning. “Alright, Lance. You can be our fashion advisor. What do you think of this?”
Lance, who had been looking at something else, glanced over and gave them a smile before walking over, his gaze immediately falling on Keith.
“Honestly?” Lance said, his voice playful. “Keith could totally rock this jacket. It’s a little more grunge than usual, but that’s kind of your vibe, right?” He smirked at Keith, then winked—just casually enough that it made Keith’s heart leap into his throat.
Keith was suddenly aware of his body, the warmth in his cheeks, the way he felt a little too hot all of a sudden. It wasn’t just the jacket—it was the way Lance looked at him. Like he’d been paying attention to him, like he noticed him.
“Uh, yeah,” Keith said, his voice coming out a little hoarse. He cleared his throat, trying to sound casual. “I guess I could... pull it off.”
Lance’s smile widened just a bit. “You’d look good in anything,” he said easily, as though it was the most natural thing in the world to say. Then, almost as if realizing how close they were standing, he stepped back slightly. “But yeah, you’ve definitely got the vibe for it.”
Keith’s head was spinning. He had to fight the urge to really stare at Lance. His skin was still glowing in the store’s lights, the subtle shimmer of gloss on his lips making him look almost ethereal. Keith couldn’t figure out if Lance knew what he was doing—if he knew just how much of an effect he was having on him—or if Lance was just naturally this magnetic.
Before Keith could say anything else, Adam shoved a t-shirt into his hands. “Alright, let’s see how this looks. You’re going to love it.”
Keith glanced over at Lance, who had moved to a different section of the store. His presence still lingered, though, a weight in the air that Keith couldn’t shake.
“Shiro,” Keith muttered quietly, still watching Lance, “I think I’m in so much trouble.”
Shiro just grinned and leaned against a nearby rack. “You’ve been in trouble since you laid eyes on him. But at least now you know why.”
Keith groaned, feeling the weight of Shiro’s words settle over him. Was this really happening? Was Lance really here, in front of him? And how was he supposed to survive the next few hours of shopping without completely embarrassing himself?
It was already too late to turn back.