And then there was Lance.
A part of Keith wanted to put it off as long as he could,
but the other part was desperate to know how the Blue Paladin would take the news.
Keith found the opportunity to tell him almost immediately after he and Shiro got back, intercepting Lance in the hallway and grabbing him by the elbow to stop him from heading off to meet with the others.
His hold was tight, but shaking, much like his voice when he spoke up;
â---I need to talk to you.â
There was fear in his eyes, layered under apprehension and remorse.
He wanted to believe that Lance wouldnât regard him any differently, but thereâs still that CHANCE, that possibility that the news will completely ruin their dynamic, ruin whatever theyâve got going for them.
Lance surely wonât be able to look at him anymore without thinking about IT---
                                              âLike, now.â
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For the first few seconds Keith just blinks at Lance, then makes a point of looking down to himself---pointedly looking at the t-shirt heâs got on.
When he lifts his head to look at Lance again,itâs with a brow raised to record heights.
â---But itâs not cold?"Cuddling would be totally fine with Keith, of course,but for WARMTH? Itâs, like, seventy degrees outside.
âAre YOU cold? You couldâve said something. Iâll turn the heat on.âThere Keith goes, rising from the couch to go messwith the thermostat, putting it at what he hopes iswill be a comfortable temperature for the both of them.Sorry, Lance.
Were the room not designed to pick up on the words, Keithâs not sure it wouldâve been registered - not when he pants more than he speaks.
Satisfaction over his win keeps him upright, a final âIâm betterâ as he watches the floor swallow up the droid heâd knocked down onto it.
---Only once his opponent is gone ( even though itâs nothing more than a machine, and therefore canât even process what it means for him to keep himself upright for PRIDE ) does he slump over, grabbing his knees and waiting for his breathing to even out.
When he straightens up, strands of hair fall against his neck and tickle his skin, and with a huff that sends the hair in front of his face lifting he considers tying it back before the next fight.
First, though, water.
Keith turns to head to the wall where heâd set his things - bayard, jacket, and two bottles of water - only to pause at the sight of Lance in the doorway.
They still had yet to have that TALK, and... for that Keith feels a little guilty. They could be having that chat now, and instead heâs spending a majority of his time on the training deck. Itâs just... he may be a little bit... really nervous? Heâs not sure what to expect, and itâs kind of keeping him on edge, a feeling that he chooses to take out on the training droids he can lose himself in battling.
â---Hey,â he greets, a little belatedly. âYou here to train? ...How about a quick spar?â
Sitting there at the round table, watching unique species filter in through the large doorway, Keith canât help but wish heâd fought Shiro harder on this.
Politics and diplomacy were never his forte - he always opted to sit out when letters were sent requesting the presence of a Paladin, leaving Shiro to take the seat.
But THIS time, his brother did that thing where he hinted towards it, then hinted towards it some more until Keith eventually CAVED and agreed to show up at---...what was the planetâs name again?
He doesnât feel bad for not caring. Heâs been there two days already, and from what he can gather itâs just a simple disagreement between two neighboring solar systems - itâs nothing LIFE-THREATENING. His assumption is that he and Shiro only received the missive because the ambassador hosting the diplomatic convention wanted to have a guest as grand as a Voltron Paladin.
All the attention heâs been getting further suggests that.
New faces show up every meeting, representatives from different planets that will be affected by whatever change is made. Thereâs a handful gathered around the large table, but Keith watches those entering the room:
Thereâs someone from Ilâkiv - a planet he and Shiro saved not long ago; thereâs an Arusian - Keith actually had a short, though warm conversation with them earlier; thereâs a couple from Baskan; and thereâs---
holy shit.
Itâs immediate, the feel of losing all his breath.
The space made in his chest by breath stolen is replaced with an ache.
On shaky legs Keith rises, eyes-wide, staring disbelieving at---
                                              â---Lance,â
But what with how quiet he sounds when he says it, and considering the amount of people in the room talking over him, Keithâs not even expecting to be noticed.
Surprising to no one, the Castle of Lions picks up on Galra activity following their leave of Shki-Lan. Keith had been anticipating exactly this, and even though their time on the planet had been extremely favorable, heâs eager to get back in the swing of things. Lose himself in the battles. Take out part of the empire that stole his brother from him.
But thanks to these planet-bound skirmishes, it gives him and Lance little opportunities to sit and talk. Something heâs anxious over, but highly suspects needs to happen.
Theyâre down in some caves on a new surface, split into pairs, and this is the first time in DAYS - ever since Shki-Lan - that Keith and Lance have had the chance to be alone.
...It figures that all their focus would have to go into keeping themselves ALIVE.
âLance, your left---â Keith warns, swooping in to throw up a shield on the Blue Paladinâs right, only to then charge out with his bayard to take down the sentry whoâd fired. Another opponent dives in to take the place of the first, and although Keith tries to keep his attention on all enemies at all times, he hadnât noticed the one halfway across the room, shielded by two more, wielding an impressive gun---this of which he fires, the blast aimed straight for Keithâs back------
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Maybe it was a little bit of a dick move,
but ever since the end of their excursion to that trading planet, Keith had made efforts to avoid being alone with Lance. He didnât go out of his way to not see Lance at ALL, just... if everyone else were to exit the room, leaving the two of them alone, heâd make some excuse and take his own leave.
See, if he was left alone with Lance, that would be giving the other all his attention, and he just... didnât want to let that happen. He'd only just been growing confident enough in their relationship to call Lance a FRIEND - the last thing he wanted to do was ruin that with feelings.
So, he tried not to let himself be alone with Lance, in hopes that space might help him bring his emotions back under control. Not that they outwardly affected him much---he was still able to work with Lance just fine, could easily throw back taunts as they were given to him. It wasnât this world-changing situation. Keith liked Lance. All that was different was he was AWARE of the reasons his gaze lingered on Lanceâs smile, or why it felt so important to prove his worth to him.
Now, although Keith tried his best to make sure there was always at least a third person in the room, sometimes being alone with Lance was just unavoidable.
Such as right now, when he rounds the corner and just BARELY catches himself before he collides with the Blue Paladin.
âOh---hey,â he greets, a little stilted. âSorry---was on my way back from training.â He adds, like maybe that should explain why he wasnât paying attention. To him it makes perfect sense - he was rolling over techniques in his head, planning for next time, coming up with ways to do better.
With a jerky little nod, Keith starts to try and slip by;
âI should... get going.â Like thereâs actually anywhere to be.
The soft ring of bells welcomed Arthur as he pushed open the door of the Kingsmenâs Mechanics shop.
âHey Uncle Lance...â Arthurâs voice echoed out softly. His Uncleâs head snapped up to Arthur.
For some reason, a sense of uneasiness washed over Arthur.
"Can...â Arthur cleared his throat. â...can I talk to you for a sec?â
âItâs been awhile, lad,â Uncle Lance grunted out with that gruff voice of his. Arthur missed hearing it.
âIt really has... I-Iâm sorry, I wouldâve came sooner, but...â Arthur winced internally. â...I... ended up... busier than I expected...
Uncle Lance slid a mug of hot chocolate towards Arthur. The younger mechanic smiled at the smell of his favorite drink, and lifted his head up to thank his uncle... but faltered when he saw his expression.
Why did his gut always have to be right?
âWhatâs wrong...?â Arthur pressed nervously.
There was a small sigh, before Uncle Lance folded his hands together and carefully placed them on the table.
â...I think Iâd like to talk to you too, Arthur. I... have some questions...â
Arthur blinked, tilted his head, and waited.
It looked like Uncle Lance was having trouble articulating a response.
â...Iâve heard about what happened yesterday.â
The younger mechanic froze.
Lance looked distressed. â...lad, Iâve been hearing things lately that are starting to worry me. Your attitudeâs changed, and according to Vivi, youâve started picking up pranks and jokes that arenât... very... harmless...â
There was a painful tightness in his chest. Half of him, the part of him that took full blame for Lewisâ death, told him to stay quiet and not protest, but the other half... some other half of him wanted to say something.
It was probably the more selfish half of himself (he wasnât so sure) but eventually, the second half won out.
Arthur was so tired. He couldnât keep up with this pretend game anymore. At first, he was okay with these possessions as long as Lewis got his revenge, but it was stepping too far. Exacting his revenge was starting to hurt and involve too many close people... Arthur couldnât accept that, and yesterday had been the final draw.
He took a shaky breath. â...U-Uncle... I... I-I really need to tell you something. S-something... something r...really i-important...â
Lance looked conflicted, but he nodded. With a gentle prompt, he said, âYes? Iâm listening, Arthur.â
Arthur opened his mouth, wondering how he was supposed to start explaining this... this clusterfuck of a mess... until his eyes caught something outside the window.
His breath immediately caught in his throat, and a wave of panic so intense slammed into him so quickly that Arthur choked and nearly stumbled back.
âA-Arthur? Lad, whatâs wrong?â
âL---â Arthurâs fingers dug deep into the edge of the table, the wood nearly denting underneath the vice grip of his metal fingers. He tried to force out the word, but his tongue seemed to be stuck on that one letter, and no matter how hard he tried to push himself to say it, he just couldnât say it.
Why? Was the hyperventilating a factor?Â
âArthur! Itâs okay boy, calm down--- can you speak? Whatâs wrong?â
Arthur scrambled off his chair and pushed himself to a stand. His flesh hand clutched tightly to the collar of his turtleneck, and suddenly, everything felt too hot, too dizzy...
âC-can we talk somewhere? Pl-please?â Arthurâs eyes wouldnât leave the window, because outside, waiting for him with a dark glare, was Lewis.
Lance caught Arthurâs gaze and tried to follow it, but as soon as the older mechanicâs eyes fixed on the window, Lewis disappeared.
That only sent him into a worse panic.
âSomewhere else? Of course, Arthur... h-here, letâs take it slow and easy... youâll be okay son...â
For one split second, Arthur briefly snapped out of his panicked state, stunned by his Uncleâs words.
Son?
His peripheral vision caught sight of pink mist, and before Arthur could even speak, he blacked out.