“What do you mean, you don’t have a favourite colour?”
Keith smiles. He gets more comfortable, sinking into the soft padding of the overstuffed armchair. His eyes follow Lance as he paces the common room, occasionally climbing on furniture just to jump off or shake himself around.
“I dunno. I guess I just don’t have one.”
Lance pauses from where he’s climbing the makeshift coffee table, hands on his hips, squinting at Keith.
“I think you’re lying to me,” he decides. Keith smiles wider. Lance’s eyes are narrowed, and his hair is all mussed and curly.
He’s so fucking cute.
“Am I?”
“You must be!”
“What’s my favourite colour, then?”
Lance somersaults off the table, landing in a heap in front of the armchair where Keith is sitting. Keith peers down at him.
“You good?”
“Shh, I’m thinking.”
Keith dutifully remains quiet, smile crinkling the corners of his eyes as he watches Lance mutter and mumble to himself in barely-comprehensible Spanish.
Suddenly he vaults up, crashing into the chair and Keith.
“Oof,” Keith says, as there is suddenly 120 pounds of scrawny Cuban flopped on top of him. Lance flips around so he’s facing Keith, hands on his shoulders, so close he’s practically straddling him.
“Blue!” he shouts. “You’re favourite colour is blue!”
Keith grins, shaking his head fondly. “Yeah? How do you figure?”
“Whenever we get supplies from the space mall, you pick the blue stuff! Most of the books in your room have blue covers! And blue is the colour of honesty and trust, so it fits you!”
It’s true that Keith picks a lot of the blue supplies, but that’s ‘cause he’s usually the last to pick and blue is almost always left over. And yes, most of the books in his room are blue, but Keith’s willing to bet that’s coincidence. As for the honesty and truth thing — Keith huffs. That’s very sweet of him. A very Lance thing to say.
He’s about to open his mouth to say all this to Lance, but pauses. He thinks suddenly of the blue in the wide desert sky, of the community pool in the early morning. The blue of Adam’s glasses and Shiro’s nail polish and the lake they took Keith to, every summer. The blue of the Castle, the blue of Pidge’s braces, of Allura’s earrings and Hunk’s favourite mixing bowl. The blue of Coran’s fancy advisor’s uniform.
Finally he thinks of blue armour and a blue lion and a blue baseball tee, always within arm’s reach, always armed with a grin and a joke. He looks at Lance’s beaming smile, eyes scrunched and so, so sure, and he realizes that he loves blue. He loves the colour, bright and clear as it is, and everything and everyone it represents.
“Yeah,” he whispers, voice as soft as a summer sunset, “Blue is my favourite.”
Lance cheers, scrambling back off Keith and resuming his excitable chattering all over the room. Keith smile grows with the warmth of his chest, the slow beat of his heart. He looks at this boy in blue who holds the heart of the universe in his hands and thinks that he’ll never look at blue the same way again.
———
based on this post
