Fake promises of happy endings

Okay so, let's analyze Keith for a second, shall we? Keith is, currently, at a horrible mental state; he's hopeless and devalues himself highly. He thinks he contributes very lowly to the team and the whole mission in general, and this can be explained by the following stuff:

Season 3:

Keith is forced to abandon his highly mobile and perfectly-fit-for-him Red Lion, and now has to pilot the Black one.

At the same time, he's forced to dismiss his emotions and rage about not knowing where Shiro is, to become the leader of the team.

Besides, he's never wanted to be the team leader, but just because he can pilot Black, he has to. 

But as he becomes leader of Voltron, and tries his best to make the best choices, he struggles with a team that's barely learning how to function with the new arrangements. They’re all prone to fail somehow.

And the blame for the team's failures falls on him, because he's the leader.

Let's not forget that Keith is hotheaded (and self-aware, as it’s seen in his vlog), so the stress of the situation causes him to get angry and make more mistakes. Oh look, even more failures to think of, and more stress!

Yes, eventually he manages to guide the team, but still, he knows himself not a leader, and it's not helpful that people around him remind him so.

Season 4:

Now, Keith has joined the Blade of Marmora, which I personally understand it as both exploring both a part of his identity and a way he could be even more useful to the team.

But there's a problem: He has a hard time balancing both the BoM and Voltron, and people call him selfish for it.

Like, c’mon give this boy a break he’s just trying his best and he’s trying to be useful for heaven’s sake.

And then, there’s Allura, who tells Keith “The Marmora can go on without you. They have for thousands of years. Voltron cannot. We cannot.” Do you guys realize that this is basically Allura telling Keith “Leave the Marmora, they don’t need you.” 

And it’s not only that. Who does Voltron really need? Keith? Doesn’t seem like it. Voltron needs the Black Paladin, that Keith is currently playing, but Keith feels as if he, himself, wasn’t needed.

So Keith is just being a bother for the team, being in the Blade of Marmora. If only Shiro could take his place as the leader Keith knows himself not to be.

And it happened; Voltron recovers Shiro, and no one needs Keith anymore.

He gets sidelined for most of the season, and no one mentions him ever again. No one asks "How is Keith doing? Should we give him a call? Let's tell him we're doing Super Sentai shows and give him a ticket!" No one acts like Keith's friend, no one seems to care about him as he’s gone. (I’m not salty DreamWorks what are you talking about it’s not like kEITH DESERVED A MILKSHAKE TOO OKAY?!)

And Keith knows this: it's a reason why he's now with the Blade of Marmora, where the mission matters more than the individual. No one misses him either way, if he were to die, it wouldn't matter.

You don't believe me? Then watch the very last episode of S4; Keith most literally attempts a Kamikaze at Haggar's ship for the sake of the mission.

TL;DR: Keith is lonely. He feels as if his first family since the Garrison doesn't care about him anymore; he's not useful or matters in any way, and he's currently surrounded by people that would die if it benefited the mission. He's starting to internalize that idea too.

And that's the point that's got me worried; Keith is vulnerable, weak, and feels as if he didn't fit anywhere else.

Do you know who's also an outcast? Someone that doesn't belong with his people? Someone that's been abandoned by the team he trusted the most?

Lotor.

Apart from the obvious "we're both only half Galra" parallelism, Lotor has been framed as a State Criminal by his very father, his people will kill him on sight, his generals shot him unconscious and were willing to give him away to the empire, and let's not get started on how not even Voltron would like him among his lines.

Lotor is a pariah. Keith is an outcast. And it’s pretty evident that not making them interact would be a waste of writing resources, you get what I mean? Dreamworks is guaranteed to make them have a talk at one moment or another, BUT.

But, but, Lotor is way too smart to let it all sit just like that. He has no allies right now, he cannot trust anyone surrounding him, and as a last resource he has thrown himself to Voltron, in hope of getting some help in defeating his father and claiming his throne. He desperately needs allies, people that he can trust.

And knowing Lotor as charismatic and good with words, my theory lies on the idea of Lotor befriending Keith; using all the points they have in common, and making the most use of Keith’s loneliness, Lotor is more than able to establish a bond with Keith, because they’re equal in more than just one way.

And yeah, Keith knows Lotor for a bad guy, but... Keith is only human guys. He needs a friend he can trust, a friend that is physically there for him. He’s at such a vulnerable state, that I wouldn’t blame Keith for giving it a try.

Now, this could go various ways:

Lotor befriends Keith in a cynical manner, manipulating him to get an easy ally from the Voltron Coalition, so Lotor can coerce Keith into abandoning Voltron and causing horror among both Voltron members and the Blade of Marmora.

Lotor befriends Keith in a truthful manner; at first only focusing on his own gain, but slowly and steadily realizing how Keith actually... gets him. And Keith is charming and funny and a good friend and Lotor can feel... comfortable, around him. It reminds him of what he used to have with his Generals. Friendship is something that Lotor wouldn’t want to lose again.

At the same time, this has two pathways; for one, Lotor could end up giving up on his purpose of ruling, given that Keith convinces him of that.

The other possibility is that, when Lotor is set to leave and pursue the Galran throne again, he offers Keith the chance to follow him, because, “There’s always going to be a place for you and you only, for you are... my friend.”

Unlikely, but not impossible, some brainwashing involved? If Keith were especially unwilling to follow Lotor’s plans, we know that, besides killing recklessly, Lotor is willing to do anything.

Lotor doesn’t try to befriend Keith, but rather, to show him that there could be a place for him among his troops, along with continuously dismissing how Voltron and the Blades care about him. After all, it’s not like anyone actually did, right? No one seems to. Lotor would be the one to twist the knife that’s stabbing Keith, and later on, offer to heal it.

There could be more ways to do this, but, honestly, I can’t think of anything else.

(Low-key, I’d like to see Lotor truthfully befriending Keith, because it sets up the possibility of a redemption arc; there could be no point in ruling over the Galra if Lotor is alone up there at the peak of power)

TL;DR: Keith needs friends. Lotor needs allies. They’re bound to talk to each other at any moment, but, just how much their relationship is gonna end up working both of them up? Because, as weak as Keith is, Lotor has all the tools he needs to make usage of Keith, as his new anti-Voltron tool.

A summer night,dark enough to conceal his features. A scarf, to hide just enough of his facefor him to go undercover. A ticket. No gauntlet.

Akandecould feel grateful that his knuckles were equipped with shotguns so hewouldn’t have to worry about being defenseless if he was found out, but still,not having his gauntlet made him feel weak. If the worst-case scenario becametrue and a giant raging gorilla tried to catch him, he wouldn’t have hisgauntlet to fight back, and he’d end up in prison again.

He waitedpatiently for Sombra’s report. If any other Overwatch agents were around…they’d have to go for plan B. They couldn’t risk losing Doomfist again, butthey also needed this work done.

“Anythingyet, amiga?” Akande asked on his comdevice. It’s not like he could just call her ‘Sombra’ on the open where someonecould hear them.

“Relax, amigo,” Sombra answered from the otherside of the line. “Everything’s clear. You can go in.”

“No one’sruining the party?”

“Lena Oxtonis having a Netflix and Chill with her girlfriend at London, green robot is atthe Tibet visiting a friend of his, and that furry friend of yours is at hisbase in Gibraltar. They won’t be bothering.”

Good news, then.

Akandestarted to walk towards the stadium. Brazil’s summer nights were warm andinviting; a natural and invigorating emotion filling the air, quite differentto the cold and dry atmosphere of a prison cell. He allowed himself to smile atthe simple things surrounding him. This wasn’t a bad place.

The stadiumwas crowded already, but it’s not like getting to your first-row seat is hardwhen you’re a tall, wide, visibly strong man and people get out of your waywith just a single glare. Their screaming made it difficult to hear what Sombrahad to say on the other side of the line. Akande hoped it wouldn’t benecessary.

When thelights dimmed, the cheering became its wildest. Blue, yellow and green laserlights scanned the crowd and lifted the spirits and, before Akande knew, theywere focusing on one person.

Brown skin,green attire, a logo of a frog with headphones and a smile that went straightinto his fans’ hearts. Akande locked his eyes onto him. As Lúcio walked to thefront part of the stage, Akande never took his eyes off him.

A musician,people called him, but Akande knew better than that. That man, with lyricsabout uprising and beats with a mysterious science backing them up, Lúcio was afighter; an Overwatch fighter. Theman was fast on his feet, smart as the devil and strong in a unique way, onethat had Talon worried.

Akande hadbeen sent to the concert to get some answers; Lúcio Correia Dos Santos was, byfar, one of the biggest oddities among the Overwatch members. He was not thetype of man to be found among soldiers. What kind of hidden strength did hepossess? Akande needed to get at least the tiniest of hints.

With acheerful greeting and a fist bump to the air, Lúcio greeted the crowd, andsummoning holographic remix boards was the last thing Akande could noticebefore electronic beats started to fill the air. The music blasted through thestadium, the crowd crying out in pure glee, causing the skin to tremble,causing the heart to adjust its beating.

It wascrude, raw, it hit right into the bone.

Akande losthis breath for a second.

Had he beenstruck with awe, he would not quiteuse that expression, but he found no other way to express the emotion that hadflowed through him at that moment. It was bliss at the emotion, it was frightat the power, it was admiration at the talent; it was so many things at once…

But, morethan anything, Akande wasn’t struck by the music, by the lights, by the vibrantsensation… no, it was all the people around him.

Every fan,with their cellphones in hand, with their hearts stuck at their throats andtheir hands risen in the air, everyone mimicked the bass with their fists,everyone sang to the electronic lyrics, everyone followed the rhythm, and they smiled…

Lúcio, too,was smiling. His hands mixed the tunes while his feet moved in a choreography.His whole soul was poured into the show and he smiled while performing.

LúcioCorreia Dos Santos moved the hearts of his fans… much like a revolution would…

Akandesmiled. So, this was it. He needed to see no more. Moving swiftly among thecrowd, he retreated, joy pouring out of his whole existence and bliss itchingat his every corner.

“Hey, what’sup?” Sombra asked, her voice filled with curiosity. “Why are you leaving?”

Lúcio wasthe oddest, most interesting character Akande had ever gotten to see. Had heever felt such intrigue for someone? Akande couldn’t recall. He had never feltsuch a desire to get to know every single, sordid detail of someone. It was thestrangest of feels.

“I have theanswer they want. No need to roamaround much more.”

“Hmm… Isthat so…” Akande could almost feel Sombra smirking at the other side of theline. “What are your thoughts, then?”

Indeed, though, what were Akande’s thoughts?

He had justbeen witness of the power that Lúcio held. He moved people with the music,creating a following that agreed with him, that loved him, that listened to him. His beats were almosthypnotic, resonating deeply among the flesh and imprinting itself forever onone’s memory. Akande would never forget the music he had just heard, so he knewother people didn’t either. The people that listened to his music could neverforget his words.

Lúcio was aleader, a revolutionary, the first spark that could detonate a whole uprisingif he decided so. He could get his followers to resist, to riot against thepower that tried to oppress them.

Akande fellin love with the mere thought of it; of the potential that Lúcio had. If that’swhat he had achieved as a pacifist… whatcould he achieve when he resorted to force?

“I thinkthat’s the kind of guy we want to get along with,” Akande said on the mic.

“Really?Wouldn’t your best gorilla friend get a bit jealous?”

Akande gaveit a little thought.

“Not evenan angry monkey can fight a whole rioting nation,” was the last thing he said.

Heavens, itfelt like daydreaming. Lúcio could be exactly what Akande had been looking forhis whole life; a spark that could start the fire. He needed it, Akande needed him. That was the onlything he could think about.

A nudge on his right side; a sudden thing that made him flinch a little, but it helped him to wake up. Blinking a couple times, he realized he had been just about to doze off. Dammit.

Tifa, sitting next to him, looked at Cloud, a concerned look on her eyes. Cloud had been dozing off, so she had nudged him to wake him up and he immediately straightened on his seat. He whispered something about the classroom being too hellishly hot for him to stay awake during class, and Tifa answered with one of those “Don't pretend like you didn't go to sleep until five in the morning” expressions of hers. Cloud was about to answer that, telling her that he had found a really cool series on Netflix which he absolutely had to stream all at once, but--

“Mister Strife,” a voice called him. “I guess this must be something you know by heart, judging by how you're chatting about it with your classmate. So, tell me, what was I saying before?”

Cloud went from Dammit to Oh shit . His teacher had just noticed he wasn't paying attention and now Tifa was innocently whistling, like she hadn’t had anything to do with this. Well, he was the one that had fallen asleep, but still.

“Okay then. Let me give you a hand,” Mr. Sephiroth started. “I was talking about photographers who portrayed marginal people and their situations. Would you give me an example of someone who did it?”

Again, blank. He did have a book of photography right in front of him, but it wasn't like he could just peek inside of it. For teachers like Sephiroth, that was as bad as not giving an answer altogether. Maybe even worse, because it was “analogue to cheating” or something like that.

“Sergio Larrain,” a female voice answered from his left. “The chilean photographer started his career portraying children living under bridges in his home town. He also took photographs of fishermen and stuff like that.”

“Very well, miss Kisaragi,” Sephiroth praised her. “And, mister Strife, I expect my students to listen to my class, or to be respectful at least. Think of that the next time you decide to talk in the middle of a lecture.”

“Y-Yes.” Cloud felt himself shrinking in his seat. God, he wanted to die.

Yuffie nudged his left arm playfully. Cloud didn't look at her at first, but when he got a second nudge, he turned his eyes to her and saw she was smiling apologetically. Straightening on his seat again, Cloud wanted to tell her that it wasn’t like he was mad at her... but it was better not to say anything, just in case Sephiroth could hear them again. He didn't want any more trouble. So, instead of talking, he just nudged Yuffie back.

Sephiroth was, indeed, talking about photographers that had portrayed marginalized people and their situations, pointing out different examples and techniques. Cloud tried to listen to him the best he could, but in the end, when the bell rang, he could only recall three or four sentences at most of what his teacher had said. He was still sleepy, his mind still hazy because of how hot the room was. How in the world were Tifa and Yuffie listening so attentively?

After the bell rang, Cloud yawned and started packing up his stuff. Tifa and Yuffie waited for him, the three of them ready to go for a snack, but, yet again--

“Mister Strife,” Sephiroth called him again. “We need to talk.”

And now, Cloud went from Oh shit to Fuck...

“Ehh, we'll catch you later?” Tifa asked.

“Buy me a really strong coffee,” Cloud asked, while handing her his money. “Or, really, anything that will wake me up.”

“Deal!” Yuffie said, while she and Tifa left the classroom together.

Cloud walked towards his photography teacher. Part of him wanted to run like hell was chasing after him, and part of him was excited about talking to him. However, he wouldn't feel comfortable with neither of those emotions being stronger than the other one.

“Am I in trouble?” was the first thing that went out of his mouth.

“No. This time I will let that slip. But that wasn't what I wanted to talk about with you, Cloud,” Sephiroth answered.

Cloud noticed it. How Sephiroth called him by his first name. He noticed it.

Sephiroth was one of the most recognized teachers in the school. Being a professional photographer published in various magazines and having a doctor's degree in pedagogy, he was the kind of teacher whose name was featured in the school advertizing of their arts program. Known for being strict and having a highly professional attitude, the fact that he was using a student's first name, meant only that he acknowledged them as possessing talent and  potential. It was a honour.

Now, all Cloud could feel bubbling within himself was pure excitement. Mister Sephiroth was acknowledging him. Mister Sephiroth was acknowledging him . What did he want to tell him?

“Oh, um...” Cloud averted his eyes. Stuttering wasn't usual from him at all. “Then, what is it?”

Sephiroth let a pause extent between them. Contrary to Cloud's shy attitude, Sephiroth's eyes focused solely on him. Cloud could have sworn he had felt those eyes over him.

“I wanted to talk about your participation on the 'Hard Work' Contest that's coming up.”

Cloud felt himself froze. This wasn't praising, Sephiroth was not about to praise him. He was about to get called out for his lazy ass. Fuck .

“I've been expecting you to put up a submission for it,” Sephiroth said. “But you haven't showed me any signals that you've been working on it, have you?”

“... Not exactly.”

Cloud did have a couple of pictures that he could handle for that. Well, if “a couple” meant one single crappy photograph he took of his neighbor mowing the lawn, that wasn’t even appropriately framed and was altogether crappy. God, he had only shown that to Tifa and even she had said it was a bad picture.

“I don't understand why you haven't taken initiative on this project. The contest is a big chance to show your skills to the world. There might be a big talent within you, but you are not showing it. What is the point of having it, then?”

Cloud felt his cheeks blushing. He really didn't want to be lectured right now. Less from Sephiroth.

“I just... need a bit more time. I haven't found something that inspired me, that's all.”

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow to him. “Mister Strife, let me tell you; you are not blessed at the art of deceiving. Stick with photography.”

His blush grew hotter. He had just been sassed. Great, that was exactly how he wanted his morning to go.

“For the meanwhile,” Sephiroth continued. “Please consider the opportunity you are being handed with this contest and take it seriously. Dismissed,” and, with that, Sephiroth turned back to his desk.

Cloud took that chance to, slowly, but with a lot of feeling, walk out of the classroom. He was sweating and his mouth had gone dry. He felt anxious and really out of his zone of comfort. It was like that everytime he talked to Sephiroth.

He didn't know exactly what he felt about Sephiroth, but it wasn't the usual feeling a student felt for his favourite teacher. Yuffie had, once, joked about how Cloud was on cloud nine for Sephiroth, totally pun intended, and, blushing, the blond guy had considered it an option. Tifa, on the other side, had talked about how uncomfortable she felt around their teacher, like his sole presence meant danger. That, Cloud had thought, was also a possibility. But Yuffie insisted on the 'you just fell for the protagonist of a BDSM novel' thing because she loved to tease Cloud.

Akande had a cellphone, but he rarely used it.

Somehow, to everyone’s amazement, Akande Ogundimu managed to live a normal life without an extensive usage of his cellphone. He was a morning person, so he had no problem waking up early. He kept an agenda, so he didn’t have the need for constant text reminders or alarms. He liked jogging and training without music, so he didn’t charge it to his cellphone. He only ever used it for texting and phone calls.

Amélie was honestly amazed by that. As a college lit teacher, she couldn’t keep her eyes off her cellphone for more than two hours because there was always someone who needed her; students, other teachers, her assistants, or even some friends like Sombra or Gabriel. She always asked Akande how he managed, because she really could use a break from all the constant buzzing. Sadly, Akande didn’t have any tips for her.

It was weird, though; from his point of view, he was always looking at his cellphone. Well, maybe not so much like Amélie or Sombra (he admired and respected their busy lifestyles), but he used it a lot.

After all, Lúcio always had something to show him through texts.

Lúcio Correia Dos Santos had what it seemed like an infinite repertory of internet videos, pictures, jokes, puns, memes and other various stuff, so it wasn’t unusual for Akande to feel his cellphone buzzing in his pocket, a message from his favorite frog awaiting with what probably was a video of a puppy learning how to howl, or a picture of a rabbit with a funny hat.

               Lúcio: OMG LOOK AT THIS BALL OF FLUFF <3

               Akande: It is quite fluffy indeed. Like a snowball.

               Lúcio: IT’S ADORABLE I KNEW YOU’D LIKE IT!!!

               Akande: I did, thank you love.

Akande always had to find a split second of his routine to look at all the messages Lúcio sent him, and there were lots of them. It made him happy. He liked those split seconds of “Aww” he got from Lúcio’s little animal vids, or the laugh he got from the videos of people licking Nintendo Switch cartridges. Lúcio knew exactly how to cheer him up.

There were a few favorites, of course; those that Akande would definitely get if he was feeling down from a bad day, or exhausted after a rough training session: The sneezing panda (old, but a real classic), Asdf Movies (he knew them by heart at this point, but they were still funny), a specific Vine compilation (with both cute animals and funny short movies) and Akande’s most favourite thing in the world: Lúcio’s selfies.

It was 10am, right on time for his training to start and, as always, he felt a small buzz on his pocket before changing clothes. He unlocked his screen to reveal a new picture Lúcio just sent him: A selfie where he wore the new pastel green hoodie he had just gotten as a gift from Akande.

               Lúcio: Hope you have a good day today! I know I will, I’m wearing the cutest hoodie ever.

Akande smiled at the screen, typing a small answer before pocketing his cellphone inside his shorts.

               Akande: You look lovely. That color looks really good on you.

(On the other side of the line, Lúcio felt like screaming because he loved it whenever Akande complimented him.)

Akande loved Lúcio’s selfies; they were always so fashionable and cute and beautiful and oh gods that man made Akande go weak. Lúcio loved to wear diverse colors and styles, ranging from hipster to casually formal to… I don’t know, honestly, but Akande always saved every single one of the selfies Lúcio sent him. Looking at them always lifted Akande’s mood no matter what, so Lúcio had arranged a plan to always send his boyfriend a selfie before he started training, to ensure he would start his day with a smile.

Today, Akande had stamina training, so he started off by running on the treadmill. His trainer had an exercise regime where he would shift between different aerobic exercises each 10 minute, so Akande first run on the treadmill, then he changed to the cycling machine, then to the stair climbing one, and back to the treadmill again. It was intense, but it had helped him to last much longer while jogging, which was helpful.

After some time, he was given a break so he could drink water and relax before the next round. Akande had already discarded his shirt, his sweat making it a bit uncomfortable, but he had an extra pair in case this happened. His trainer was pummeling him today, but it felt good letting out all this energy.

He felt a buzz coming from his bag. He opened it, looked for his cellphone and found a new message from Lúcio there. A selfie (oh this was definitely a good day) with Lúcio holding a little newborn dog right next to his face.

               Lúcio: Look!!! Hana’s dog had puppies!!! Aren’t they cute?

It was almost like Lúcio had felt Akande needed a word of cheer to keep on going. He smiled fondly at the screen, already typing an answer.

               Akande: Yes, they are very cute. Will she keep them all, though? I could use a partner at my morning jog.

               Lúcio: I’ll make sure to ask her. How’s training?

Akande was about to write his usual answer, something along the line “Everything’s good,” but a sudden idea flashed through his mind. A good one, might I add. At the gym, there was a whole wall covered in mirrors and just looking at them gave Akande a clever idea to thank his boyfriend for lifting his mood.

He stood up from the bench and went up to the mirror wall. Then, Akande flexed his arm, making sure his muscles looked the best he could. He flashed a small smile; the kind of smiles only Lúcio had the privilege to see and, with the tap of a finger, he sent his boyfriend a selfie of his own.

On the other side, Lúcio felt a buzz on his pocket, so he left the little pup rest on his lap while he opened the chat. His phone didn’t automatically download all pics (Hana had a bit of a habit of spamming him a lot of memes), so there was a split second of wait before all air escaped Lúcio’s lungs and all his blood went straight to his cheeks.

               Akande: You tell me. Does it look like it’s working?

Oh man… oh man oh man oh man oh man.

“Phichit, how many times must I tell you that I’m not going to drink anything?”

“Aww c’mon Yuuri! I bet Viktor would love it!”

“What, to see me drunk and all over the floor?”

“Twenty dollars. What about that?”

“I’m not gonna drink!”

Phichit laughed innocently, as if he wasn’t trying to get his best friend drunk. Yuuri sighed long and deep, trying to remember the multiple reasons there were for Phichit to be his best man. A part of him was trying to be mean and say “There were no reasons to begin with!” but... let’s be honest. Phichit was sweet, understanding, he always supported Yuuri and cheered for him, among other things. Maybe all that could make up for what was happening right now?

“Just checking, you know I’m kidding, right?” Phichit asked, his tone a bit more serious now.

Yuuri sighed again. “Yeah, but, I think it’s time to cut it up for now.”

“Okay, okay, I promise I’ll stop it.”

“It’s just that,” Yuuri started. “You are aware that, when I get drunk I get... well, you know? And I don’t want to repeat what happened at that Grand Prix banquet.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know that.” Phichit smiled at Yuuri. “I’m not going to insist about drinking, but I will insist about you, needing to bundle up some courage and have fun tonight.”

“What do you mean? I am having fun!”

“I mean, go ask Viktor for a dance!”

The sole mention of Viktor’s name caused Yuuri to start looking around, searching for him. That man wasn’t hard to find; his platinum hair made such a nice contrast with his black suit, and the black rose pending from the jacket was unmistakable. Yuuri’s throat would go dry just by looking at him. Such elegance, such beauty, Yuuri felt like a teenager all over again, sighing spellbound to Viktor’s unique charm.

Yuuri almost needed to slap himself across the face to remember that this wasn’t just a dream or a vivid fantasy, but a reality.

“See? You want to dance with him as much as I want to record it,” Phichit added, with a subtle laughing tone.

“W-Well... yeah, I kinda want to.”

“So? What are you waiting for?”

“I... don’t quite know. Maybe the right moment?”

There it was. Yuuri realized that it was a dumb excuse. Phichit would most probably say something like “Man, there’s no right moment for a dance, just go for it!” because Yuuri was acting all nervous for no real reason. How many times had Yuuri and Viktor danced together already? Not only as pair skaters and practices, but also just... just because they felt like it. Viktor would promptly take Yuuri’s hand and ask him to dance along whatever tune the radio was playing. How was this any different?

It was just their wedding celebration, where a lot of family, friends, fellow skaters and even a few people that Yuuri didn’t even know that well were reunited, and the moment that Viktor and Yuuri started dancing together, everyone would stop what they were doing to watch them dancing, while people like Phichit and most probably Yuuri’s mom recorded every second of it. Not a big deal, right?

Well, duh, Yuuri had already done that a million times... because he was an ice skater... who was spectated all around the world in competitions... Ugh, I’m over thinking stuff again, am I not?

So Yuuri was ready for Phichit to give him a speech or just sigh at him. He was acting like a dork.

But that didn’t happen. Instead, Phichit placed his palm over Yuuri’s shoulder and looked at him in the eyes with a fond, happy sight.

“Yuuri, you know that Viktor loves you, right? You’re wearing his ring!” Phichit’s voice was cheerful, but quickly became a murmur. “Just between the two of us, I overheard him talking with Chris about how much he loved his new surname. You got Viktor wrapped around your finger and I’m sure he loves it. He would drop any conversation in the world if you asked him to hold hands. Now, if you asked him to dance? Hoo boy, that Russian man wouldn’t be able to stand on his feet properly.”

Yuuri couldn’t afford but to chuckle at Phichit’s words. He knew Phichit was both joking and being totally serious. Phichit had a manner to say what he thought in a fun way to lighten up the mood, and he was really good at it. Yuuri felt grateful for that.

“And, also, not only Viktor. Everyone here. We’re all here because we’re celebrating the blessing that is to see you two happy. You two are our friends, our family, we couldn’t ask for more than for you two to have a blissfully happy life together.”

Yuuri felt those words reaching deep within him. Phichit was being honest about that too. Yuuri knew he was a man surrounded by a lot of people who loved him.

“You can wait a bit more if that’s what you really want, but I say... Go get that booty!” and then Phichit burst into laughter.

And then Yuuri, blushing a bit, tried to help Phichit calm down a bit because he was making a fuss and people were turning around to see what was happening, which made Yuuri embarrassed and Phichit would only laugh more.

But that’s not the main point of this. Yuuri knew that Phichit was right. He did want to dance with Viktor and just looking at his ring finger reminded him that Viktor would, most probably, want that too.

So Yuuri inhaled deeply, told Phichit that he was going to ask Viktor for a dance, and walked straight towards him. Phichit, of course, started telling people around him that they better get their cameras ready, the newlyweds were about to dance! He wasn’t going to lose a single second of this.

Yuuri was just about to call for Viktor’s attention, but Yurio didn’t miss a second to tell Viktor that Yuuri was coming. Before Yuuri could realize, Viktor was looking at him. Everything around him felt dead silent.

This should be easy... right?

“Viktor Nikiforov,” Yuuri started.

Yuuri was stiff, tense. Everything about his posture was giving it away. Viktor noticed that... but Yuuri’s eyes were dead serious. There was something he wanted to say. And, if that was the case, better say it properly.

“Viktor Katsuki-Nikiforov,” he corrected, a smile on his face.

An unexplained happiness rose from Yuuri’s chest, helping him relax. Phichit had said it; Viktor loved him. And he did seem to like his new surname.

“Viktor Katsuki-Nikiforov,” Yuuri said again, now his voice full of pride and confidence. “May I have this dance?”

Viktor froze.

He knew that Yuuri had wanted to say something; his eyes had that subtle sparkle that Viktor knew very well how to read, yet... To see Yuuri subtly bowing to him, offering his hand for Viktor to take it and offering a dance...

Ah, Yuuri, how happy he made Viktor. How much he warmed Viktor’s heart. How much Viktor wanted to just live forever in this moment.

“Yes, it would be an honor.”

Both of them smiled. Yuuri felt happy. Holding Viktor’s hand in his, he guided Viktor to the center of the room, where people were already making room for them, as the music slowly faded for a new song to come up. One that only the grooms would dance to.

You can bet Phichit was holding his phone recording everything. And Christophe too. And Yurio. Almost everyone, actually, wanted to save this moment.

Neither Viktor or Yuuri said a word. They already knew how this was. You hold your partner’s hand in your hand. You hold their waist as they hold your shoulder. You both look at each other in the eyes. There are no words needed, because you two already exchanged them all.

Yuuri knew all of this, but it always felt the same. It felt sweet, to sway around along the music, it would make him feel warm on the inside. He just needed to close his eyes and focus on Viktor being this close to him and there it was. He didn’t know what it was exactly... a feeling of certainty, probably. Certainty of Viktor being right next to him, not as a dream or a fantasy... but as a man who chose to love him, and who Yuuri loved back.

There was a mug of coffee on the nightstand and a book in his hands. Keith had been like this for some good two hours and only the need for more coffee had interrupted his session. Yesterday Keith had received this novel as a christmas gift and thought he was all over sci-fi, it wasn't a bad idea to give it a try. And god did Keith love this novel. From the very beginning with dorky kids swimming in a community pool to this current part where the protagonists were meeting again after a year of being away, it had been delightful. It had been a while since he wanted to cry with a novel.

He was exactly in the second-to-last page of it when he heard the rustle of keys and the apartment's door flew open and thought Keith knew it was a bit rude not to go and say hello, he had to finish it before he was dragged into some kind of Lance antic.

“We're home,” said Shiro.

“And we brought brownies!” Lance announced.

'Brownies' Keith thought, a bit tempted. But, no, he had dedicated some good hours of his life to this novel and for all that was sacred in this world he was going to finish it.

It was a scene at the desert. Both kids were stargazing in the middle of the desert and one of them had said that he had had enough of all of this, of their friendship, because he couldn't hold back his emotions anymore and it was becoming more and more painful for him, and the main character/narrator was almost watching his entire life flow in front of his eyes as he considered how horrible it would be to not have the other boy in his life, and the moment Keith thought he was finally going to say something...

“Keeeeeeeith!!!” Lance came into the bedroom. “The brownieeeeeees!!!”

“Shut up Lance I'm in the middle of heavy drama.”

“But they're going to get cold!” Lance insisted as he came forward to drag Keith by the arm.

Keith made a gesture towards his mug and looked at Lance right into his eyes. “I swear to god Lance, I'll throw you hot coffee in the face if you don't let me finish.”

Lance backed up in the moment and raised his hands in a gesture of resignation.

“Fine, fine, finish your book. But don't blame me if I eat all of your brownies!”

The moment that Lance was out of the room, Keith focused back on the book. The scene, effectively, had a bit of dialogue and a kiss. And another kiss. And they laughed and resolved their tension. Keith had awaited for a while for a kiss but, at that moment, he couldn't feel the excitement he, at first, had portrayed he would feel. Reading it felt a bit bland.

“Goddamnit Lance, you ruined the moment!” Keith yelled as he stood up, threw the book on the bed and went to the kitchen.

Shiro and Lance were sitting at the small table they used to eat dinner, Keith's seat still free, with a couple of cups with milk and a plate with brownies on the center of the table. There were a fair amount of pieces, just enough for it to be impossible for Lance to eat them all in the time Keith decided to finish his book.

“Oh, goodness gracious, we're blessed with a strange visitor!” Lance laughs.

“Shut up, you ruined the mood of the end of my book,” Keith said, sitting down and picking a brownie from the center.

“Did you like it?” Shiro asked.

“Yeah, I loved it. Thanks for the gift.”

“Aw c'mon! Now you're going to say that you didn't like my gift,” Lance pouted.

Shiro, Keith and Lance had spent christmas with Lance's family. They had had dinner, a couple of drinks, they played a bit with the youngest kids and they had exchanged gifts. Keith had received the novel from Shiro, a nice christmas sweater from Lance's grandma, a spaceship lego model from one of Lance's siblings that loved Keith and, from Lance, Keith had received a framed photograph of Lance, Shiro and himself together. Keith couldn't even remember when Lance took that photo.

But it had been nice. It was a cute photo of them, sitting on their sofa, just smiling and cuddling. It's not like Keith had disliked it, not at all. But it also wasn't like he was about to admit that in Lance's face.

“I'm not not going to say that I didn't not like your gift,” Keith declared instead, laughing internally as Lance's facial expression shifted in confusion.

“Okay, that's enough,” Shiro cut them off. “Lance, remind me again, did we buy everything we needed?”

“Yep! Everything.” Lance raised his hand and started counting with his fingers. “We got some steak, rice, onions, garlic, eggs, salt and pepper for tomorrow's lunch. We also bought the sponge and the dish soap, the toiler paper and a new mug for you. Oh, and these brownies.”

“And the cake?” Shiro asked.

“The cake?” Lance seemed a bit shocked. “You didn't list a cake.”

“I... did not?” Shiro looked inside of his pocket and took out a piece of paper. There was a list of goodies written on it. “Fuck.”

“What's the matter?” Keith asked.

“I... I asked a patisserie to bake a special cake for my cousin, and I should have gone there today to get it, but I forgot. Fuck.”

“Hey, it's okay,” Lance reassured Shiro. “Keith can go with you to get the cake and there'll be no problem!”

“Why are you offering me?” Keith asked.

“Because I already went out and you know I don't like the cold, so you'll go with Shiro.”

“You can both come with me,” Shiro suggested. “We go outside for dinner, we walk through the city to the patisserie, we get the cake and then we come back here. I'll pay, since I'm the one who's dragging you guys around.”

Keith and Lance looked at each other for a second before nodding to each other. It sounded like a nice plan. Keith liked the idea of going out for dinner and Lance could resist the cold for a bit more. It wasn't like it was snowing outside.

It was, in fact, snowing outside when they went out of their apartment and Lance stood crooked with a lot of coats and sweaters over him, cursing the winter for its cold temperatures and any deity out there that thought that snow was an enjoyable thing. Lance hated the cold weather. He wasn't going to go back into the apartment because Keith was there, and Lance could resist anything better than Keith could, but that didn't mean he would ignore his spite and stand straight, or get his hands out of his pockets.

They all walked through the streets covered in a thin blanket of snow, Shiro and Keith shielding each of Lance's sides from the cold breeze, as Keith periodically reminded Shiro the fact that they were going out for dinner and for a cake, and that, ideally, nothing else should be done. Lance also asked from time to time if there was anything else that Shiro could have possibly forgotten, but Shiro kept saying that there wasn't anything else to do.

Shiro had a lot of issues with memory. He could be reliable, trustworthy and a great leader, but he usually needed people around him that could help him remind important stuff because he, by himself, was unable to. Everyone that knew Shiro well enough also knew that it wasn't his fault. His brain had endured a lot, from a couple of childhood traumas to an actual car accident, so he was physically unable to remember key stuff by himself. Keith and Lance knew that too, so they would always lend a hand when Shiro needed to run an errand, so Shiro wouldn't forget what his intention was.

That's what any good boyfriend would do, right? They didn't mind helping Shiro.

As they walked, Keith and Lance noticed that they had already passed the burgers place that they usually ate at, or the chinese restaurant that was where they went when they felt a bit fancier than hamburgers. And, now that they thought about it, had Shiro specified where he wanted to go?

“Shiro,” Keith asked. “Do you remember where are we going?”

“Oh yeah,” Shiro said.

“Are you sure?” Lance asked. “We don't even know where we're going.”

“Don't worry guys, it's a nice place.”

Keith and Lance were a bit doubtful, but... Shiro seemed confident enough, so, they decided on trusting him. Either way, if he forgot what place he wanted to go, they could always go for chinese food.

And before they noticed, they were in front of “The Veil,” a restaurant so fancy that neither Keith or Lance had ever considered even laying their eyes upon it.

“Uhm, Shiro...” Lance started. “We're... not, going to eat here, right?”

“Is there a problem?” Shiro asked, a bit of concern growing on his expression.

“Uhh, well...” Keith started. “For instance, we're not dressed up for the occasion?”

“I asked for a private room for us three, so you don't have to worry about people judging our clothes or anything.”

“But,” Lance continued. “Don't you need a reservation?”

“Yes you do. And I have one.”

“What about the money? This place must cost a fortune.”

“I've been saving up to treat you guys a dinner here.”

Keith was gaping. Lance still couldn't believe what was happening right in front of him.

“Can we get in already?” Shiro asked. “Or would you prefer going somewhere else?”

Of course Keith and Lance wanted to go in! Shiro evidently had done a lot, and all by himself, to bring them there. They were not going to turn it down!

They entered the main hall of the restaurant, which was gigantic, and there were many people sitting down, chatting and enjoying their meals, all of them dressed in shirt, cloth pants, dresses and shoes that could cost a whole kidney. Keith felt really out of place; he was wearing cargo boots and a simple red sweater under his poofy jacket. Lance wasn't that better either; he was wearing a blue shirt with matching sweater, which was a plus, but the jeans killed the entire vibe.

Shiro spoke to a man with a book in front of him, probably the one in charge of reservations, and after confirming that Shiro, effectively, had made his own, the three of them were guided to one of the private rooms. It was a room with carved wood decorating the walls, a small window that allowed you to see the outside, a small table in the center and three seats ready to go.

These rooms were a bit harder to get, since most people wanted a private dinner, so, to get one, you had to make a reservation at least with one month of anticipation.

“Just how much did you go through to get this room?” Keith asked.

“Not too much, actually,” Shiro laughed. “I called this place last christmas and they said the room was available for today, so I took it.”

“You reserved this place a year ago?!” Both Keith and Lance felt their jaws falling to the floor.

Shiro... Shiro remembered a reservation he had made a year ago? How did he manage to remember it? It was true that Shiro would write things down in papers for him to remember, like making a list for the supermarket or pointing out in an agenda that he had to go to a meeting a certain day, but, the fact that he had remembered something that Keith and Lance themselves would have forgotten easily was just so... amazing...

Without saying anything else, the three of them sat down, the waiter brought the menus for everyone and, after asking for something to drink, they were left alone. Keith and Lance started reading the menu and while Lance was trying to pick one of the many fancy things this place offered, Keith was trying really hard to imagine what all these things could look and taste like. Some of these things sounded like spaghetti, but what was the “al pesto” sauce?

“You know, guys,” Shiro started, and both Keith and Lance lowered their menus. “I don't know if I've ever told you this but, when I was little, I never celebrated christmas the way I do with you two.”

Keith and Lance looked at each other, and Keith said “I don't recall you telling us how you celebrated christmas before.”

“Really?” Shiro seemed both surprised and relieved. “Well, it's like that. Christmas, for me, wasn't a family day as a child. It was a romantic day for my parents to celebrate. Dad would usually take mom on a fancy dinner like this.”

Lance tried to portray small Shiro with his parents as they had a romantic night while Shiro watched movies at home. Lance couldn't quite portray himself in that kind of tradition. He loved to spend time with his family exchanging gifts and making the youngest kids believe in Santa. But Shiro didn't seem to be sad about remembering that. So, did he...

“So, you wanted to share christmas with us in that way?” Lance asked, his face starting to heat up.

“That was my dream. At least once, to have a date with you guys on christmas.”

Shiro smiled. It was a tender smile, so loving and endearing it made Lance feel warmth in the pit of his belly even though he had been freezing just a while ago, and it made Keith feel like he wanted to hide somewhere because the emotions were too much to handle.

Lance reached out with his hand to hold Shiro's, pulled it towards himself and planted a kiss on the dorso. Similarly, Keith stood up for a second to plant a kiss on Shiro's cheek. Shiro could feel all his body warming up just as his partners did.

“That may be the sweetest thing I've ever heard you say, you know?” Lance said with his teasing voice.

“Sometimes you're so embarrassing,” Keith teased Shiro too.

“Hey guys,” Shiro's face was as red as a cherry. “C'mon, I worked hard on not forgetting this!”

“We know,” Keith reassured.

“And we love you so much for it,” Lance finished the idea.