#about lance

wait why are they hating her 😭😭

but doesn’t surprise me most of these ppl are closet misogynists

Quite literally for posting a throwback💀

Lance doesn't know what it's talking about. Finding ones self. Your true calling. Choosing a path. He shows it to one of his partners. A stocky man with the codename Panther. They laugh about it. Panther shakes his head, lights a cigarette and says, "Like there's a better path in life than shooting fuckers in the head."

His smile fades.

He hides the book in his bunk.

He tries to remember what he wanted before a gun was shoved in his hands. He doesn't think he had put much thought into it before. Dug at the bottom of his meagre belongings is an old, tattered notebook. He's careful with it. A poem is scrawled in neat script, the only thing of his mother remaining. Panther teases him when he catches Lance leafing through the yellow stained pages.

Hey look guys. Letters from your girlfriend?

No, Lance says forcing the words out in a rush. It's too much of an insult. His careful cadence stumbles on consonants, it was m-my m-mother's.

Panther utters a quiet little oh and then it was just a joke, man.

Not that Lance cares. He scribbles his own poorly written poems beside her old ones. At first they're clunky and confusing. Nothing at all like Shakespeare or Byron, Frost or Ginsberg, the poems he used to read before the gun. His collection grows until he needs a new notebook.

Sana brings out the best of his language. Words blossom under the sunshine of his infatuation, then his sunset soft loyalty and love. She is his muse and he paints her with poetry. He would follow her to the ends of the earth and says so one day when the two of them are alone in the twilight of a night shift.

It's cold on the deck as they lean into the banister. The helicopter pad is empty but he doesn't remember why. His head has been full of static. His temples pounding with a coming migraine. Sana toys with the rifle, watching the other guards at their posts through the sight.

Even if it's all the way to hell? She says.

Yes, he says. If only to drag to b-back.

She laughs as she sets her rifle back down. It's quiet out here. Of all the places he's ever been, it's not so bad. He could pretend this os his choice.

And then she looks up at him, her dark eyes like the midnight sky. He's never been in love before. Mikhail (Beetle) doesn't do attachments and Lance isn't sure he's really into men like that even though it felt good. He's never touched Sana's skin, he's never kissed her soft, full lips and he's not sure he's even dreamed of it, but it doesn't matter because he knows. He knows as much as he knows self determination is still a load of bullshit.

But maybe, maybe, it's not that farfetched when she says, let's get away from here.

Maybe it's her. Maybe hes wanted to hold a pen instead of a gun and write flowery prose about all the ways her smile births butterflies in his belly.