Chapter Text
"Lance, have I ever said to you that you've got shit morals before?"
"Huh? Moral Orel?"
"Not that stop-motion show, you dense idiot. I meant your principles of right and wrong are as reliable as telling a five-year-old not to choke on their tonsil stones."
".... Hate away, sister, hate away—"
𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼
Hi. I'm seventeen years old, about 5'10ish or something, and my name's Lance. I think I'm actually so fulfilled in life if I'm being honest with you. I've got friends who love me, family to coddle me, and my star quality that makes every day more worth living. These are the essentials, you know? I would tell you more about myself, but it'll just sound like I'm boasting because I'm just that fucking awesome.
The guy who I'm currently one-on-one in tennis with is my best buddy Hunk. Man, I love the guy; he's wholesome and always has my back. We do get into some altercations sometimes. Like right now he's been saying how I need to stop making my own hypocritical ethics that only serve me and expect everyone to just roll along with it. But really, I don't do that monogamy shit; I do things my way, and I think it's fantastic how much free will we have every passing day, and I really feel bad for the people who don't realize it yet.
At the end of the day, so what if Hunk thinks I'm a selfish bastard or a cunning brat? I'm like Zen compared to him.
"I really wonder when we'll ever get through that thick skull of his," Pidge commented on the sidelines as she sat on the empty bleachers watching the vibrant ball bounce from a backhand to forehand. She sat there with her tablet in hand, switching between lazily watching them and reading articles—her dry, sarcastic tone always gaining a laugh out of Lance because, really, there wasn't anything like it at all.
"You need to be strong-headed to get through it. What can I say?" Lance retorted back as he swung his racket with an extra punch for emphasis. The ball flew right by Hunk's head and into a patch of dried-up grass. Hunk groaned as he reluctantly turned back to retrieve the ball.
"Mhm. God. Are you going to get your ass up from there any moment now? I feel pity for you being left out. Lance stretched out his arms, letting out a gruff groan.
Pidge just shook her head in rejection of the idea. She'd rather just sit this one out than deal with being drenched before her afternoon classes she had to attend to.
"Suit yourself; you'd grow an inch if you'd run a little. "
"My growth plate has not ended yet, so stop acting like I'm a fucking garden gnome!" Pidge snapped at the comment, making Lance inevitably chuckle.
"Sorry, I thought the Leprechaun was more fitting," Lance snickered as she slid her Skechers off her heel and targeted straight at his thigh. Through aching cheeks, he bent down on the grass to retrieve it for her and threw it back in her hand like a boomerang. "Aim for the balls next time if I really piss you off that much." He cocked her a smirk as Pidge furrowed her brows together, tilting her head off to the side.
"Seriously though, Matt literally looks more like a parental figure next to you than anything else. Maybe he has that old-man kind of aura. Don't really—"
He stopped mid-sentence as his shoulders tensed for a moment in pure, unfiltered shock before bunching forward and putting his hands on his midsection.
However, the thing was someone's hand was already laying its fingers on top of the fabric of his skin. The hands were large in width and even larger in size as Lance clenched his hand on it before pulling it away like a deadly parasite.
Those hands felt too worn and calloused to belong to just a teenager. The material he felt resembled more leather and Velcro than anything else. He didn't even need to turn around to know who it was by this point.
"Keith?" Lance stepped away to see the other's pale skin reflect off the silver shine of the relentless sun. Still, it did not excuse him for sneaking up on him like that. "For fuck's sake, Keith. What are you? A ninja?" He scowled because what was even his problem to begin with, anyway?
"Don't run yet; I won't bite," Keith replied back. His voice was strident but had a softer edge to it, like he was putting effort into not sounding off-putting.
"Meaning you would?"
"Lance," Keith shook his head, a sigh escaping his lips as he licked the upper row of his teeth before continuing. "I ran into Ms. Janis a few minutes ago in the halls, and she told me we had a chemistry practical tomorrow. In pairs," he gulped as he crossed his arms.
Lance's eyebrows immediately perked up upon hearing the news before resulting in a facepalm and a groan. "Oh shit, haven't revised anything," he muttered before turning his face back to Keith. "I mean, that's cool. What about it?"
"We're going to be partners for the next two weeks," Keith announced bluntly, which came as another surprise to Lance. God, name how unpredictable this mullet head was.
"For real? You still remember the recrystallization shit from the week before?"
"Did you forget...?"
"I am in a procrastination rut right now, baby."
"Fuck... You were my only hope," Keith clicked his tongue as he stared into the ground intensely for a moment.
"Hey, don't go and click your tongue at me when you yourself don't seem to know much about the topic, do you now?" he defied, squaring up on the other, which was how he noticed the few inches Keith had grown over the past few months. He's been starting to mount over him every time they saw each other, and that was an immediate piss-off.
In his response, Keith Hallows his cheeks before returning back to his stoic face and nodding at Lance's words.
"Okay, you got a point."
"So is that it or…" He wiggled his brows and shifted his hand around to encourage him to reach his word limit.
"Nah, nah, that's all. I just wanted to tell you in advance; that's all," Keith cut him off instantly with his body as he turned his back to him as he walked off, keeping his hands in his pockets.
Lance watched him walk off to the other side of the campus field before reverting his eyes back on Pidge—and now Hunk. The two of them watched without interruption before Lance broke the silence with a resounding "What?!"
Pidge let out a low whistle, maintaining and simultaneously failing to keep her usual expression on her face as Hunk asked the real questions.
"That was the third awkward conversation I've ever seen Keith willingly put himself in." He cracked a smile, spinning the long-forgotten tennis ball on his fingers.
"It's Keith, so I don't think you should expect a great grand entrance, do you?"
Pidge cackled as Hunk couldn't help but give in to the temptation of Lance's cluelessness. "That's the point he was trying to make, you solid idiot," she mouthed between bursts of laughs. "Keith must be real fond of you to start talking to someone outside his friend group and the seniors."
Lance couldn't believe it because it just sounded like Pidge and Hunk pulling bullshit out of their asses to mess with him. "He talked to me because of the chemistry pairings," he pointed out, thinking it was a flaw in their lie.
"Yeah, that's the point. He could have just waited in class for you the next day to find out, but noooo." Hunk laughed out, seeing the realization spawn on Lance's face.
"I'm being honest; I think Keith is more interested than just bantering with you from time to time." Pidge set her tablet down as she now had her full attention on the situation. "Honestly, he seems pretty shy despite his tough exterior, and you really seem to bring it out in him."
"Though exterior? That stubborn prick?"
"He actually listens to you with a success rate of 10/10. "Just turned so obedient whenever you say something." Hunk, the teaser, tossed the tennis ball towards Lance.
"Really?! I swear to God, don't fuck with me right now, Keith?" Lance couldn't help the forming, smug smirk on his face. Damn, if Keith, out of all people, wanted to hang out with him that badly, then he must look swagger to his other peers.
"Test it out yourself if you don't trust us," Pidge smiled before turning into a confused look as she saw Lance gathering his bags and strapping a towel around his neck. "You're leaving already?"
"Nah, I'm following through with what you just said. I'm testing it out," Lance yelled from the back as he swung his sling backpack over his shoulder and walked out of their field.
"Not right now, you idiot!" Pidge yelled back, but Lance was already too far off to be audible in this range. "Man, he hasn't even done anything yet, but I feel worried before he does." She picked up her own bag and nudged Hunk to follow after him.
Now Lance didn't really have any crazy ideas planned. He just wanted to test the waters—and he means that literally.
His eyes scanned the buoyant outdoors of the campus and tried to find where on earth that emo juvenile ran off to. Given that he was always seen with his little squad, it took Lance 30 seconds flat to spot him. Gotcha.
Keith was in his circle of four friends leaning against the brick wall with their motorbikes parked in an uneven order. They were all seemingly having a good time with each other, laughing and taking hits of what Lance assumed to be a guava-flavored vape. Keith was blowing rings out of his mouth with his hands still in his pockets, which Lance found pretty impressive since he hadn't mastered that skill yet.
"Hey!" he called out before jogging towards the group as they all turned their heads to look at him. Ryan was the first one to crack a smile and wave at him, followed along by Nadia and Ina, while James snickered and poked Keith's side as he straightened his back and blew out all the smoke in his lungs before clearing his throat.
"What's good, Lance?" Ryan greeted him with a dab up, and he moved on to exchange fist bumps with the others, leaving out James, of course.
"Hey, why are you ignoring me—"
"Shut up, James," he said bluntly before averting his gaze to Keith, who was up against the wall staring right below his knees. By this point Lance was starting to doubt what Pidge and Hunk had said earlier, but since he was here now, it didn't hurt to at least try now. "So Keith...."
"Yes?" the other responded almost in an instant, leaving no room for waiting. The whole group chuckled, holding their breaths, trying to not make noise about how eager he was to respond.
"You know, it's been a while since we've known each other, right?" He gave a crooked smile as he looked down from Keith's leather Rick Owens to his zipped-up jacket with the hem of the collar showing.
"5 years?" James interjected again, which made Lance a little more irritated than he should be. "Shut up, James. Nobody is talking to you," he snorted more aggressively.
"Yes, it's been a while. What about it?" Keith said, nodding, his tone of voice not changing at all.
"Don't you think it's weird we've never, like, had a one-on-one hangout with each other? I mean, I know we aren't that close or anything, but..." He bit a smile down to look coy. "... You think we can change that?"
By this point everyone's eyes were now blown up with Lance's words, with Ina backing up; he stumbled back on his motorcycle. It took a long pause with a big reaction, and everyone was anticipating it. "It's fine if you think I'm being a pushover right now and—"
"What time?" Keith blurted out, giving no fuck of composure anymore.
"Oh, time? What time are you free?"
"Probably any; just tell me where you want to go and when."
At this point Nadia was enjoying the sight a little too much, constantly watching between them back and forth, and Lance couldn't blame her because, damn, his friends were right. If Keith became his close friend, he'd immediately lock it in with the seniors and not get too ahead of himself; this could open doors for getting invited to college parties and cool functions. He couldn't let this go.
"Damn, McClain, where do you want to drag him to?" James asked again, trying to provoke Lance. "James, if you talk one more time, I will fight you."
"I'm available tomorrow after school, so if you can, I want to take you to the skating rink," Keith stated, wasting no time on making his reservations clear. "If you don't like it, I'm open to your suggestions."
Damn, wasn't he supposed to be saying these things instead of Keith? How blind was he to not notice he had that effect on the guy? Well, it shouldn't surprise him; he's a fucking package.
"No, no, I love the idea. I just didn't think you'd be so receptive about it because you know," Lance sighed, playing his little pitiful role. "I'm just really lame and don't want to disturb you guys' time and—"
"Well, you are now, so you can walk and leave," James interjected once again, not taking the hint he was severely ruining the entire conversation. Ryan frowned and turned to him and was about to scold him about interrupting someone before a cold splash of water hit James straight in the face and drenched his entire upper body. "WHAT THE FUCK?" he screamed from the temperature shock and rubbed his eyes open to see Lance casually screwing back the cap of his bottle. "Where was I again?" He stared back up at Keith's bewildered face, which slowly turned to a humored one when he started to laugh.
"You bitch! I was holding my vape; you could have destroyed the shit, you dipshit," James said, drying the device off, fuming with rage.
"Well, I should have shut up when I was saying it nicely," Lance rolled his eyes unbothered, to which Keith followed him up and nodded. "He's right; you've been cutting Lance off ever since he started speaking. Apologize to him now," he announced like there were no exceptions.
"Did the nicotine rush really fuck up your brain? Because did you not see the cunt pour half his fucking hydro flask on me?" James clenched his fists as he practically foamed at the mouth watching Lance being defended.
"But you deserved it," Keith argued back as the other three really had no choice but to leave him alone for this one.
"Jesus Christ, Lance maldita perra astuta! (You cunning bitch) Come here—!" James sprinted as he charged Lance down like a bull goading a matador. Lance was quick on his feet to start bucking out there and took a random motorbike and threw it on the ground as an obstacle and made a sharp turn to the right, not looking back.
"YOU IDIOT!" James yelled, jumping over the bike, and was currently 13 ft on his tail. Jesus Christ, he forgot James was athletic when he wanted to be. He turned to the indoors of the school but realized he could have a possibility of getting locked up in a classroom if he were caught, so he ditched the idea and ran to the football field, which was currently crowded with audience members right now. Thank God, he could just hide and try to disguise himself in there before James came.
Oh, but if he acted fast enough, just looking back for a split second, he saw James charging after him with a lacrosse stick. His jaw dropped because, one, James doesn't even play lacrosse, so him pulling it out of his ass was diabolical; two, he was fucked.
He had no choice but to jump on the bleachers and cross through a row of people who were not pleased with all the toe-stepping, sweat-smelling, and disturbance to the game he was doing, but he had a bigger problem when James was catching up with him. He jumped down and sprinted to the corner of the field and looked back to find James falling elbow-first when he attempted to commit the jump Lance had done. Hoorah, he was free. Jesus Christ, that made him almost shit his pants.
He rested his hands on his knees and took in all the air he could before choking on them a little. His throat felt so damn dry after that run; he looked up at the relentless midday sun that was burning on his skin.
Suddenly a sharp whistle cut through the noise around him. Before he could even turn properly, something slammed into his face with brutal force. WHAM.
The impact is violent and sudden—a hollow, brutal thud that snapped his head back before his own brain can catch up to the present moment. He didn't even have time to fumble; he was body slammed hard on the ground as the towel fell off his shoulders.
Noise floods in all at once, but my ears were almost cancelling it out.
Shouts. Someone swearing. The dull bounce of a football rolling away across dry grass. Now, in the present moment, Lance could think, What was that doing here?
He moved his tongue, but my mouth tastes wrong, metallic, almost. He peeled open my jaw as it screamed in pain. The moment he could finally breathe properly, shadows hovered over him, but he couldn't exactly make out their faces. Even so, he still knew they were probably worried and concerned. Panic then starts surging more than pain as Lance blinked hard, disoriented, the world tilting like it’s been knocked off its axis.
(Inaudible) "What's going on—"
He finally spoke, but unfortunately that was where the problem started. His upper teeth shoot up in a pain in his face that Lance couldn't even remember feeling once in my life. Not because it was painful, no—it was because he had never felt it before, at least not in recent years.
Then it dropped.
A tiny white rock. Lance almost missed it if it hadn't twinkled so much, with how luminous it looks.
... Wait a minute.