#mutli-chapter

           Nick walked close by. There was something different about being around him now. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but it was there. The image of him standing on Kenny’s porch, arms crossed, looking for everything like a hidden knight in shining armor was burned into my brain. I don’t know how I would ever thank him for how much he seemed to care.

           “How’s your hand?” I queried softly.

           He held out his hand, spreading out his fingers. Two of his knuckles were busted open and swollen. He could hardly straighten those fingers out at all.

           “It’s not so bad,” he replied. “I’ve had worse, trust me. Matt practically shattered his hand one time and had to wrestle in a cast for like a year. It’s still mangled.”

           I felt my brows lift. “Really?”

           “Yeah. His right hand—like, his two middle fingers healed up like this,” he said, holding out his hand with his two middle fingers close together and straight out. “And then his first finger and little finger set like this.” He spread out those fingers, like he was doing a Vulcan salute on both sides.

           “Oh my God,” I gasped. I shook my head, suddenly thinking of that night at the Hammerstein when Kenny was busted open and bleeding everywhere. “I don’t know how you guys do it.”

           “We love it,” Nick grinned. “Matt and I have never wanted anything else. We had our own backyard company. Dad even built us a ring.”

           I smiled as we waited at the elevators. Nick was easy to talk to, easy to be around. Without really trying, I remembered being in the locker room in Osaka where Nick kept me entertained with magic tricks. Even then—when he’d just met me minutes before—he was a sweetheart. I was grateful for him then, and I was grateful for him now.

           “I’ve never loved something like that… like you guys love wrestling,” I said as the doors opened and we stepped inside. I leaned back against the wall. “I didn’t really have a choice in what I wanted to. My parents put me in the private schools they chose. They picked my friends. Nick… they made me do the whole debutante thing!”

           He laughed, blue eyes going wide. “I have no idea what that is, but it sounds miserable.”

           “It was. Cotillion, a big white dress, an escort in a tux, and a ‘coming out’ ball.” The memories came rushing back. I could see it all perfectly. “In the old days, a debutante ball was to show off all the girls who were eligible to get married. At fifteen. Now it’s just an excuse for the New York blue bloods to show off their money.”

           “You’re kidding me,” Nick teased as we stepped out into our hallway. “That sounds horrible.”

           “It wasn’t the best six months. My parents even picked my escort. He was four years older than me and an absolute jerk.” I walked backwards so I could talk to Nick. “Then I graduated from the private school my parents paid a hundred grand for and ended up at Columbia studying finance so I could work at my father’s company.”

           We stopped just outside my door. Nick looked sad for some reason.

Nick

           We stood there for a minute, quiet and just looking at each other. Well, I guess we were looking in each other’s direction. It took a minute for what she said to sink in. I couldn’t imagine what it was like to not have a choice in life.

           “Let me take a look at your hand.” She said it out of nowhere, but her voice was so worried. Shaye dug through her bag and pulled out her keycard. “We need to get some ice on it.”

           I opened my mouth to protest, but she took me by the wrist and pulled me inside. She flipped on lights as she went, guiding me toward the two seater by the window. Shaye dropped her bag on the bed and picked up the ice bucket.

           “Stay there. I’ll be right back.”

           For some reason, I started grinning like an idiot. My chest felt weird. “Yes, ma’am.”

           The moment she walked out of the room, I let out a breath and sank down into the cushions. I dropped my head back onto the sofa. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. Not with my luck. I mean, when we first met, I thought there might have been something—something that could have been. But she was with Kenny—so in love that it was almost sickening. Even then, even when she could see what still existed between him and Kota, she loved him.

           And he never effing deserved her.

           The door clicked open as Shaye came back, the ice bucket clutched against her chest. She grabbed a towel from the bathroom and sat down on the floor in front of me. “Give it here,” she commanded.

           I set my hand on my knee. Shaye brushed her fingers gently over my hand, pressing in places. For some reason, I was more focused on the way little whisps of her hair fell against her cheek than the fact that she was probing a potentially broken hand. The way her brow was all scrunched up made my chest ache.  

           She touched my knuckle and I let out a hiss through my teeth. “I’m sorry!” she whimpered. Her fingers disappeared, only to be replaced with a white hotel towel filled with ice. “Nick, you shouldn’t have done that.”

           “He deserved it.” The words came out rough and surprisingly defiant. “I would have torn his head off if you weren’t there.”

           Shaye’s eyes met mine. They were like a night sky in the desert. Jesus, I felt like I was having a heart attack or something. My lungs felt like they were going to explode. This was all so weird and unreal. I’d never really felt like this before. I’d never thought to feel anything like this before.

           “You’re too good,” she whispered, both of her hands gently cradling my injured one. A smile tipped her lips upward. “Like a white knight from a fairytale.”

           I couldn’t breathe. Dear God, I couldn’t breathe.

           “Nick Jackson, my avenging knight,” she said, sitting up on her knees. “A good man like you is going to make someone very happy.”

           You, I screamed inside my head. You. I want to make you happy. Please, give me a chance. Give me a chance someday.

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After the events of Sports Festival ended, Sarada had a lot of stuff on her mind. The first question that she asked herself was when her crush on Boruto started?

Looking back on it she always observed him from the shadows before their first meeting. At first, she recognised Boruto Uzumaki as someone with similar family problems, but for some reason more optimistic than her. He was honestly annoying her, Sarada even wrote in her diary special instructions to avoid him. Later learning that Boruto was known as 'troublemaker’, she followed those instructions because of his reputation for creating problems. 

However, Sarada's actions were the result of her secret admiration for him. She admired his optimism, social skills, positive popularity, everything she didn't have.  Maybe that's why Sarada avoided Boruto like the plague, even if his class was just a few steps away from her own class.

Boruto Uzumaki was a person Sarada Uchiha wanted to be, but couldn't due to her stuck-up personality. And now the same Sarada Uchiha tried to think how she ended up with such mixed feelings towards the same Boruto Uzumaki she successfully avoided before.

In that case, wasn't it normal for her to have such contradictory feelings about Boruto as a person? Sarada before realising it until now from an 'idiot' that she's jealous of, somehow started to see him as a good friend. 

"No, not just friend..." she muttered in a daze to the empty air. 'Friend' meant the person she could trust wholeheartedly like Chō-Chō.  Sarada knew why she shouldn't doubt the intentions of other people so much, but being suspicious was her most natural reaction.

Being betrayed once was enough but due to that Sarada was scared to trust people that weren't Chō-Chō. Even though she interacted with Mitsuki, Sumire and Shikadai as a fellow club member, Sarada was unable to trust them completely. 

When did she start to trust Boruto and developed feelings that weren't something which Sarada would label as friendship? Sarada till this day could recall stuff Boruto said to her during these past few months.

"Are you sure about that? No matter how strong you are it is nice to have someone worrying about your well being."

"That's a really awesome dream, ya know!"

"You can always stick to me, ya know! I mean to stick with all club members, hehe."

"Hahahahaha! An alien! I'm not a handsome and popular guy in your eyes, but an alien! It's the first time a girl thinks I'm coming from another planet, ya know? It's hilarious!"

Boruto is quite a smooth talker, isn't he? Out of context, those lines sound strange. No wonder she ended up loving him. It's this annoying idiot fault, not hers. 

Suddenly, a light tap on her shoulder interrupted her thoughts. She couldn't help but jump slightly. 

"Are you alright, Sarada? You seem kind of absent right now, ya know?" It was Boruto. He's the person that is responsible for all her mixed up emotions

"B-Boruto! Don't scare me like that ever again. Please." Sarada came back to her usual composure. The more nervous she was, the calmer she appeared in front of others. 

"Did I scare you? Sorry, I can't tell because you don't look scared at all." Boruto almost looked like an angel with that relaxed smile. 

"Yes, I was startled. Besides, it doesn't matter how I look." She hoped this answer was good enough. Sarada knew her judgement towards Boruto behaviour is clouded. Especially, after realising how handsome he is in this moment. 

"What a waste, ya know..." Boruto muttered averting his blue eyes.

"Eh, a waste?!" Sarada didn't know why he made this comment. Was he trying to make her misunderstand something?

"I mean I think you should care more about how you look, ya know? I'm not talking about something extreme, but it would be nice if you sometimes dressed up. I really know you would be pretty if you smile more, Sarada." 

Sarada eyes widened. Boruto's words really struck her heart, so she looked into his eyes and smiled. It wasn't sarcastic smirk, it wasn't a forced happy expression, it was her most real and sincere smile.

"Thank you, Boruto. It doesn't change the fact you're annoying." Sarada said, ignoring a small blush forming on Boruto's cheeks.

"Y-yeah... By the way, I realised that I forgot to give you an address to my house.  We still need to know when we should meet to buy you a new phone, ya know?" Boruto spoke as fast as possible throwing in her direction the small paper. And after that, he disappeared from her like flash of lightning.

Sarada took this little scrap of paper in her hand and decided to read it. Boruto's house was really close to the cat alley she liked to go. Oh, whatever she'll pretend she's not jealous of Boruto running skills at all and forgives him now for deserting her.

At home, Sarada was like usual alone. She decided to read her favourite mystery novel that she got into. Though, her plans were quickly disturbed by her mom coming back. Did something happen?

"Mom?! I thought you had a shift today?" Sarada questioned her beautiful mother, Sakura.

"Did I surprise you, Sarada? I took the day off today." Sakura responded with a kind smile.

"A little bit. Last time when you suddenly came back we didn't have a pleasant conversation." Sarada remembered her mom was against her being a member of a club she participated in.

"Sarada. I'm still against you being in a club that involves gambling." Sakura sighed silently wishing this issue could finish fast. She wanted to spend time with her daughter in the same way as before. Without this tense atmosphere. 

"I know." Sarada covered her face with a book just not to show her sadness.  Her mom was stressed enough, even without her causing problems.

"You should quit." Sakura walked over and took a book from her daughter's hands. Honestly speaking she should have this conversation with her one month ago.

"I'm sorry, but I don't plan on quitting anytime soon, mom. I know you think this club can bring for me painful memories. However, being a member of this club made me more happy than sad." Sarada started to tell mom her reasons. She should speak sooner about her feelings. Maybe if she explained her reasons calmly before, her mother would be less stressed.

"Happy? Grandma Tsunade was happy too, but look like she ended up. Dear, I don't want for you to end up hurt. Can't you see I'm doing it for your sake?" Sakura mentioned Tsunade. It was painful for her to use the name of her mentor in this sort of way. Tsunade died pursuing her dream, the dream Sarada wanted to fulfil. 

"Yes, happy. I moved on, mom. Of course, thinking about the past is painful, but that's it. It's the past."  Sarada looked into her mother's emerald eyes. Her mom looked exhausted but still decided to have this honest heart-to-heart talk. It made Sarada incredibly happy.

"Are you sure you're okay, Sarada? I don't want to see you looking lifeless again." Sakura patted Sarada head lightly. Why people close to Sarada have the urge to pat her head?! 

"I'm sure. I moved on and you should too, mom. Oh, and I don't know if I want to be definitely the owner of a travelling casino. Dreams can change, ya know?" Sarada imitated Boruto speaking habit. His influence on her was one of the reasons she used it. 

"Is that so? I think you resemble someone I know a lot right now." Sakura teased confused at her words, Sarada.

"I do?" Sarada asked trying to get her mystery novel book back from her mom's hands.

"Yes, you do. Did you meet some new friends in the club perhaps?" Sakura smirked realising why her daughter didn't want to quit the club right now.

"I did. To be honest, joining this club made me feel less lonely. Boruto is really a great friend." Sarada decided not to mention Boruto was the person she had a crush on. Her mom was too much eager to listen about teenage romance stories.

"Boruto, you mean Boruto Uzumaki? Naruto Uzumaki son?" Sakura mouth formed a little 'o' in her surprise.

"Yes? He's the president of our club." Her causal answer made her mother laugh.

"Who would have thought Naruto son is more responsible than him. That's hilarious." Sakura had a small tear in the corner of her eyes from this apparently funny situation.

"You know Boruto's father?" Maybe it seems like she pried too much into her mom private life, but the rumours in the school were making Sarada nervous.

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't. However, if Boruto Uzumaki is the club president half of my worries can disappear." Sakura concluded having a little bit of joy seeing confused expression on her daughter's face.

"So I don't need to quit the club and can still be Boruto's friend?" Sarada asked quite unsure how Sakura will answer.

"Yes, but I'm still against you gambling in any way."  And with those words, Sakura started to talk about her work as well plan of spending her day off with Sarada.

Sarada was glad the heavy air between her and Sakura has lifted. It was quite a while when she enjoyed spending time with her mother just like today. It was one of the best days of her life.

Boruto felt strange since yesterday. Seeing Sarada smile was really rare. He didn't know what caused this reaction, but now was seating next to Mitsuki and Shikadai in the clubroom.

"Girls are complicated and scary." Mitsuki started the topic with a heavy sigh.

"You just say it right now because of Sumire and Chō-Chō avoiding you, don't you? What a drag." Shikadai said while closing his eyes.

"No, not really I sorted it out with them yesterday. All three of us decided to be friends after I explained my circumstances. I was talking about Sarada completely charming her way into Boruto's heart."  Damn you Mitsuki! It was the only words Boruto could think as an answer to his friend that changed the subject to Sarada.

Sarada smile popped into his head. She looked beautiful when she smiled. Any reasonable guy would want to put her in the cage and protect her seeing how awesome she looks when she smiles. Being this cute should be forbidden.

"Sarada? I'm her friend right now, ya know?" Boruto forced himself saying those words. For some reason, they didn't feel right to him. 

"Troublesome. Every member of this club knew you wanted to be Sarada's friend. It was obvious. But what do you think about Sarada now?" For the sake of their friendship from childhood, Shikadai wanted to help Boruto in any way he can. He owes it for hurting him that day, after all. 

"She's cute, I guess?" Boruto had a big grin when he told them his opinion. Mitsuki and Shikadai sighed in the mutual understanding of the hopeless case of Boruto denial. It wasn't surprising for Shikadai. Boruto probably didn't want to get hurt by a girl again.

"Why do you think she's cute? A lot of students think it's hard to deal with Sarada and calls her Ice Queen, you know?" Shikadai wondered. Sarada looked more like the girl that would murder you with one stare than looking cute.

"She's cute when she smiles? And Sarada isn't that hard to deal with when you get to know her a little bit better, ya know!" Boruto tone was very cheerful like he told them something they didn't know. 

"Ahh, it's troublesome. If your fangirls heard you right now, Sarada would be probably killed." Shikadai wanted to sleep but helping Boruto was now his priority. It's not like his friend wasn't aware of his own feelings, he was just too stubborn to admit how he feels. 

"Eh?! But my fangirls are afraid of Sarada, ya know? They ran away in fear after seeing her." Boruto statement made Shikadai sigh much more than before. Mitsuki just stared at the clubroom wall with a creepy smile showing on his face.

"I think you and Sarada would make a nice couple." Mitsuki chimed in after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence. Boruto started to fake coughing and cursing Mitsuki brutal honesty.

"No way! Not to mention the fact I don't know if I can trust any girl in terms of dating." Like Shikadai thought that was the main root of Boruto denaying the possibility of having feelings for Sarada.

At that moment door to the clubroom opened and Sarada entered the room. That was kind of awkward since they were still talking about her.

"So why you don't trust any girls in terms of dating, Boruto?" Sarada question made them really uncomfortable. Did she hear everything? 

"Oh, Sarada how long you were here?" Boruto let out a nervous chuckle.

"I just came here and heard something about you having problems to get a girlfriend." Was it Shikadai imagination or did Sarada is jealous? Oh boy, they screwed up in talking about it in the clubroom.

"Kind of, ya know? It's tied more to my own personal problem than wanting to get into the relationship." Boruto answered truthfully.

"Is it tied to the question I asked you during the Sports Festival?" After some thought, Sarada whispered not being sure if she's ready to hear Boruto response.

"It is, ya know. Bringing up Asami Kinoshita and how I got into the gaming is always hard." Boruto averted his gaze from Sarada. It was a stupid move to mention his ex-girlfriend. However, Sarada eyes widened in surprise like she discovered something unusual.

"Asami Kinoshita?! That Asami Kinoshita?! Is she the root of the problems happening in our club?" Sarada outburst was really out of place. She spoke like if she knew Asami too.

"Sarada... You know Asami?" Boruto complexion looked pale. If Sarada knows Asami was she a participant in that game tournament year ago? Shikadai looked like he ate something unpleasant hearing Asami name. Mitsuki, on the other hand, was confused.

"I do, though I can say I wish I didn't know her at all." Sarada words could make anyone shiver in fear.

"Really? That's a surprise, ya know? Want to hear how I got into the gaming from the start?" Boruto voice lacked his usual energy, but Sarada nodded. She was curious about it not too long ago.

"Yes." It was the only answer she could give.

"Are you alright with it Shikadai?" Boruto looked at Shikadai before he got a thumbs up it's okay from him. Mitsuki at the same time thought him fading into the background was a great idea for now.

"You can start. I will listen." Sarada tried to process this unexpected situation calmly.

"Asami was my girlfriend and at that time was the person I cherished, ya know?" Boruto smile was warm, but his eyes looked like he was in pain.

What was this feeling of uneasiness in Sarada's heart? Sarada hated the smile that appeared on Boruto's face every time he mentioned Asami name. However, it didn't matter how she felt. She needed to hear this story. Especially, if it involved Asami. 

Sarada promised Chō-Chō to discover the truth. Listening to this story will lead her to this discovery. No more excuses! She just needed to prepare her heart to hear everything from Boruto personally. She needed to know the truth from him and not anyone else.

Because she loved him.

AN: Uff, Chapter sixteen of GoF is finished! I mean published. I read something angsty and needed to heal from it, so this chapter has a lot of fluff! I will try to at least update one chapter of GoF every month. Maybe two, depending on how fast I polish up the next upcoming chapter. Anyway, like usual hope, the chapter doesn’t contain too many mistakes and ya all enjoyed reading it!

His body looked like it was glowing as he approached, the suns light outlining his silhouette in gold. Lance slowly knelt down in front of him and reached forward, cupping Keith’s cheek in his hand. Keith completely melted under the soft touch, Lance’s skin sending warm honey through his veins and causing his body to fall slack. As he inhaled again, the scent of Lance filling his lungs, he realized how much he missed him. He hadn’t ever let himself truly miss Lance before, and as he let the fullness of that feeling wash over him for the first time, he had to stifle back tears. He’d never realized how much he craved Lance’s touch because he’d never let himself indulge before, never let himself get close enough. But now that he had Lance here, soft palm cradling the side of his face like he was something fragile, the longing building in his chest was almost insatiable. And it scared him.

His fear clawed its way through his dream and the scene around him blurred. When his vision refocused, his gaze was now fixed on the mark running down his chest. And when he looked back up at Lance, he was looking at the mark too.

No.

His blue eyes seemed to grate over his chest, taking all of it in; all of him in.

Don’t look. Don’t look at it.

Keith was struck with a deep sense of panic. The last person he wanted to see him like this was Lance.

Don’t look at me.

The soft touch against his cheek suddenly ignited as he remembered what was beneath it, and as he struggled to gain his bearings the dream shattered completely. Now, he found himself in the hallway of the castle ship. He was cold, his muscles were stiff, and his head felt heavy. The light was no longer golden but harsh and white, and the only breeze came from the quiet humming of the nearby vents. As he regained his breath he was hit with the sweet smell of coconut, but unlike before, the scent didn’t calm him. Lance was really there, he realized, and he was really touching him. When he finally looked up, frantic, his eyes were met with a gaze of solid ice. The ocean blue of Lance’s eyes had frozen over in the harsh white light, and he was looking at Keith like he was scared of something. For a moment, Keith was unable to look away from him. But Lance’s gaze burned cold and sent ice through his veins, and all he could do to keep from freezing over was stand and tear their gaze apart. As he stood, Lance’s hand was torn from his cheek, and Keith was immediately struck by how empty it felt without his touch. A sense of loss immediately settled into his stomach, followed by an intense sense of longing. No matter how long he’d fought to suppress these feelings, his body still wanted Lance, craved him, as if Keith had no control over this at all. That thought scared him even more.

Before he’s fully awake, Keith’s already running.

Lance stared down at his open palm, furling and unfurling his fingers. His hand felt like it was on fire, as though Keith’s mark had somehow branded his skin with the memory of how it had felt to touch him. He couldn’t stop thinking of the way Keith had looked at him the other day, or the way he’d recoiled from his touch as though he’d burned him. He couldn’t help picturing Keith’s bare back as he had turned away from him, walking down the corridor and shutting him out again. The scenes kept playing over and over again in his mind on an endless loop, and as long as they continued to play, his palm continued to ache. Distantly, he heard someone calling his name.

“Lance? Lance?” He felt a pillow hit the side of his head, Hunk’s voice finally registering and drawing him back into reality. As usual, he’d spent the night playing video games with Hunk and Pidge well into the late hours of the castle’s cycle. “Are you even listening?”

“Oh… yeah. Sorry, what were you saying again?” Lance fidgeted under Hunk’s gaze, the worry in his eyes cutting clean through him. Pidge and Hunk were hovering by the common room doors, staring at him from his position on the couch with creased brows.

“We’ve finished cleaning up, and we’re heading back to our rooms now.” Pidge glanced up at Hunk, who met her worried expression with one of his own, before reverting her eyes back to Lance.

“Oh… right.” Lance’s cheeks burned, but he forced his face into a warm smile. “Night guys.” Pidge paused for a moment, looking unconvinced. After a few moments she sighed, relenting, before offering him a small smile and turning to head out of the room.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Hunk said, pausing to take one final glance over his shoulder before following Pidge out the door.

“Yeah.” Lance turned and faced him, giving him the most reassuring smile he could muster. “Sorry man, I’m fine. Just tired is all.”

“Alright… if you say so.” Hunk smiled weakly back. He hesitated for a moment longer in the doorway, but ultimately, decided to leave Lance alone with his thoughts. The door closed with a near silent click, and with that, they were gone.

Lance had intended to go back to his room, he really did. But when he arrived at the sleeping corridor on his way back from the common room, he found that he’d rather just… keep going. Although his eyes burned from a lack of sleep, Lance was far too restless to settle down. And besides, he wasn’t entirely sure that his body, composed entirely of coiled muscle and wired nerves, would have let him sleep even if he’d wanted to. So he listened to it, letting it carry him down the hall and further into the castle.

Lance was surprised when he eventually found himself in the training portion of the castle, not entirely sure how he had gotten there. As he slowly fell back into his body, he eased his pace, wandering down the halls at leisure. Soon, he began sliding his fingers down the smooth surfaces of the corridor. He took his time as he did, watching his fingers as they traced down the wall in long, swooping lines. When his hand brushed glass, Lance knew he’d stumbled upon the doors to the training room. What he couldn’t quite figure out was how, at this hour, he had also stumbled upon Keith.

He stood, wide-eyed and slack jawed, as he stared at the view of Keith he’d somehow managed to capture below his fingertips. Legs frozen in place, he withdrew his hand and watched from behind the door as Keith lunged forward and took a bot out clean. Taking two steps back, Keith seamlessly transitioned the sword to his left hand and stabbed another bot to his side. With his sword still buried in the bot’s chest, he swung his sword and took out another. For a moment, Lance was awestruck. Keith’s movements were faster now, more confident. His body held a certain strength that Lance had never seen before; he could see it in the way he stood tall as he attacked, and etched into the muscles running down his back. But, the longer Lance watched, the more he realized that no matter how much Keith had changed, his fighting style was still the same. Although Keith’s swing was sharper and more accurate than it used to be, he could still sense its recklessness. Although the frame that charged forward had more skill, the boy that drove it still fell pray to the same habits. For a moment, the knot in Lance’s chest loosened. No matter how different he became, Keith would always be, well, Keith. The same Keith he’d always known, and –

The same Keith who had left him.

The thought slammed into him, knocking him back into reality with a force. Unmoving, he watched quietly for a few moments as Keith finished off the rest of the bots, and as he stopped to wipe his brow. As he watched, he slowly steeled himself, digging his nails into his palm. Suddenly, Lance was storming through the training room doors before he even realized he was angry.

When Keith heard the loud bang! of the training room doors swinging open, his first reaction was to whip his head in the direction of the sound. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting to see as he did, but he definitely wasn’t expecting Lance.

At first, Keith was completely dumbfounded as he beheld the tall boy now standing in front of him. He was usually the only one who stayed up this late into the castles cycle, and even if anyone did happen to be awake at this hour, the training room was a far distance away from the main living area. As Keith continued to take him in, he slowly registered the way that Lance had strode into the room, and the angry expression he currently wore. Quite frankly, he looked pissed.

On instinct, Keith’s first reaction was to be annoyed. Lance had suddenly barged into his training session, at God knows what hour, and somehow had the audacity to be mad at him about it? He almost opened his mouth to scold him, but then the full reality of the situation hit him. With a pang, he remembered where he was, and why he was there. Keith slowly retreated back into himself and said nothing, the fire having died in his throat.

“There it is!” Lance’s voice echoed loud throughout the silent room as he spoke, the outburst causing Keith to flinch. “Why do you keep doing that?” Keith blinked in surprise, once, twice, before composing himself enough to answer.

“Doing what…?” His voice was quiet in comparison, the confusion in his tone evident. Lance huffed in exasperation, as if Keith should already know.

“That!” He sighed again as he spoke. “Just… looking at me like that.” When Keith continued to stare on in shock, Lance groaned in frustration. “You look at me like, like you’re hiding Keith!”

At that, Keith felt like he’d been punched in the gut. Helplessly, he continued to stare on, mouth agape and at a complete loss for words. He hadn’t been expecting Lance to barge into the room so late at night out of nowhere, and he definitely hadn’t been expecting him to be angry – especially not this angry. Before he could even consider getting a word in edge wise, Lance continued.

“Trying to hide from us!” Lance coiled his fingers into tight fists at his sides. For the first time, Keith noticed how badly Lance was shaking. “Trying to hide from me.”

“Lan-“

“Why?” Lance’s voice was suddenly quiet, coming out just above a whisper. “Why do you keep avoiding us? What did we do?” As Lance met his eyes, Keith swore his heart shattered.

“We used to be able to talk… and now you don’t tell me anything.” Lance’s voice broke as the words continued to spill messy from his lips. Slowly, he took a deep breath in. “I know that we used to fight a lot… but I thought… I thought that we still trusted each other.” Now that he’d started, Lance couldn’t stop the words from pouring out. He could feel himself slowly coming undone, his entire body shaking with hurt and anger and confusion and a million other emotions he didn’t have the names for. “You came back without a word, and I was happy to see you. But you’re acting like you don’t trust us anymore. Like you don’t trust me at all.” Lance was silent for a moment, staring at the ground.

“Lance, I-“ Instinctively, Keith reached forward to try and touch him, to try and comfort him.

“Don’t touch me, Keith!” Suddenly, Lance seemed to come back into himself. He swatted at Keith’s hand, angry tears beginning to burn at the sides of his eyes. “You came back out of the blue and won’t tell us why, but worst of all, you left the same way! You just left, Keith. You didn’t tell us why you were going or how long you’d be gone for. You barely talked to us for almost two whole years.” He paused for a moment, gathering himself. “Why did you leave? Why did you even come back?”

“I didn’t want to leave!” It felt like Lance’s words had slapped him across the face. Keith’s head spun as he spoke, all of his emotions seeming to rush to the surface at once. “Lance, you have no idea why I did what I did. The things I had to do to keep you all safe, the things I always do to protect you.” His voice was raw and defensive, and his words were sharp. They splintered up his throat and cut along his tongue as he spit them.

“You didn’t have to!” Lance’s reaction was instant and strong, making the tears now streaking down his face look almost frightening. “You’re right, I have no idea! Because you never talk to me!”

“You wouldn’t understand.” Keith stiffened, turning his head to the side.

“How do you know?” At that, Keith looked back up. “How could you possibly know that?” Lance’s voice was accusing and cold, but his eyes held nothing but hurt. “You don’t know anything about me anymore.” Stunned, Keith didn’t say anything. He couldn’t, not when Lance looked at him like that, and not when he knew that he was right.

“Why won’t you let me in?” Lance staggered forward, suddenly shoving at Keith with an open palm. “Why are these walls so high?” Lance pushed him again, this time, with more force.

“Lance-“

“Why.” Lance squared his shoulders and, using both hands, shoved at Keith again. Keith stumbled, taking a few steps back. “Won’t you.” This time, Lance lifted his palm like he was going to slap him.

“Lance!” Keith caught his wrist before it could strike his cheek, holding him firm.

“Let me in.” Lance swung with his other arm, but Keith caught that one as well. “I want to understand!” Keith tightened his grip as Lance struggled in his grasp; tears now free flowing down his cheeks. Lance gasped and hiccupped and writhed until Keith felt himself lose his footing, and within moments, they were tumbling to the ground.

Keith landed flat on his back, absorbing the impact of them both as Lance landed on top of him. However, the pain felt distant when he looked up at Lance, with his head bowed over Keith’s chest, shaking and crying on top of him. Lance had landed with his legs on either side of Keith, straddling him at the waist. His hands lay open and empty on Keith’s chest, the tears they failed to catch soaking into Keith’s t-shirt. Seeing him like this made it hard for Keith to breathe.

“I-“ Keith opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when he noticed a jagged, white scar lining Lance’s hip. In the fall, his t-shirt had ridden up his chest; revealing just enough skin for Keith to get a good, long look at it. Instinctively, he reached his hand forward and grazed the mark with his fingertips. To leave a mark like this, the wound must have been deep. It must have been excruciating.

“What are you doing?” Lance said weakly, unmoving. His tears had slowed, and his voice sounded hoarse and raw. But Keith could barely hear him.

Seeing a new scar on Lance and not knowing where it came from terrified him. He desperately wanted to know who had hurt him, and how. He wanted Lance to tell him who and what had caused him pain, and he wanted to take that pain away. All this time, he’d imagined Team Voltron staying the exact same as how he’d left them, but that wasn’t true at all. They had fought battles and wars and had cried and gotten hurt just like he had – he had new scars of his own, and so did they. The realization that he had no right to ask Lance about his scar hurt him more than he ever anticipated, but the realization that he could do nothing about it hurt him even more. All at once, he understood why Lance was so upset with him. He felt his anger crack and dissipate, and before he even realized he was moving, he was scrambling upright. When Lance looked up at him, the two of them eye-to-eye, Keith grabbed his teary face, drew it forward, and kissed him.

“Keith!” Lance drew back in surprise, eyes wide, only for Keith to pull him back in. “What are you- mmmff!”

Keith knew that this was sudden, and a little bit crazy, but he didn’t know what else to do. He’d suddenly become overwhelmed with a desperate need to protect Lance that he couldn’t quite describe, and the intensity of that feeling left him unable to hold back. He wanted to know that he was safe, and the best way to know that for sure was to feel him. He was never good with words, but he hoped that Lance would somehow understand the overflow of emotion he was desperately trying to convey in the only way that he knew how.

Lance struggled at first, but his efforts were all lackluster. His mind was screaming at him, reminding him that he was angry and upset and that this situation made absolutely no sense. But every time Keith drew him back in, and every time he felt Keith’s lips against his, the voice in his head completely quieted. Keith was kissing him so intensely that he could hardly believe how gentle his hands were as they held his cheeks. And Keith’s hands… Lance could feel them shaking. Tears began rolling down his face again, but this time, he didn’t quite know why. When he felt Keith brush them away with his thumbs, touch so light and gentle it sent a shiver down his spine, he completely melted into him.

Now Keith was kissing him, really kissing him, craning his neck upwards and dipping into his mouth, because Lance was letting him. And he was kissing him back. Keith had been gone for so long without a word, and there was so much that had been built between them that had never been spoken aloud, and Lance could feel it as the weight of each crashed down on them both. How much they’d missed each other, and how much pain they’d endured alone. Every word that had ever been left unsaid between them, and every worry they’d ever had for one another. Slowly and silently, something had developed between them and Lance hadn’t realized what it meant until all of his hurt and anger had been quieted with something as simple as the feeling of Keith’s lips against his. Unable to process the rush of emotions that had suddenly devoured them both, Lance swayed in Keith’s lap.

“Lance!” Keith caught him as Lance’s body gave, slumping forward. Lance’s breath drew heavy from his chest, and with his head dipped down, it brushed hot against Keith in small, shaky bursts. “Lance.” Keith meant for his tone to sound comforting, but instead his voice came out a quiet plea. In response, Lance grabbed onto Keith’s wrist for support. Breathing a small sigh of relief, Keith slowly eased him back up, hands immediately reaching up to cup Lance’s face so he could study him. Lance’s lips were dark and swollen, his face was flushed pink, and his cheeks were still wet and lined with all the tears he’d shed. Underneath the swollen red of his eyes, the deep blue of his irises were practically swimming, and there was so much pain in them that Keith cracked. “I’m sorry, Lance.” His voice broke and hitched in his throat. “I’m so sorry.”

Lance slowly drew Keith’s hands away from his face, letting them fall between them. He didn’t have the words, or the energy left to speak them, but he knew what he wanted to do. All he’d ever wanted to do. Silently, he reached his arms forward and pulled Keith into his chest, as though his frail arms could somehow protect him.

And they could. Keith let himself get drawn in, and let himself lean into Lance’s chest. Lance was warm and his skin was soft and he smelled so much like home that Keith couldn’t help but cry. In the comfort of Lance’s arms, he finally let himself feel what he’d been hiding from for so long, and it felt okay. It didn’t feel wrong. He wrapped his arms around Lance’s middle, hugging him close, and let himself feel safe for the first time in years.

The next morning, Allura walked into the training room only to find them fast asleep on the floor, tangled in each other’s arms.

End of Chapter Three. Previous || Next

           “Thanks, Nick,” I said quietly. I pulled my knees up, bracing my heels on the edge of the seat. I leaned forward and settled my chin on my knee.

           He smiled and his eyes crinkling a little at the corners. “You’re welcome, Shaye.” He glanced out the window, and I could suddenly see the lights of LAX shining in his eyes. I’d been to the airport more times than I could count, but it was somehow beautiful in a new way seeing it now.

           The pilot came on. Prepare for landing. We’d be on the ground in ten minutes.

***

           “You know, Matt met his girlfriend here,” Nick said as we came up the escalator to the top concourse. He’d tried to carry my bags, but I wouldn’t let him. “Right over there.”

           I followed his finger to where he pointed to the security station. “How did that happen?”

           Nick took a breath and seemed to crumple. “I grabbed the wrong suitcase from baggage claim. I got hers and she got mine. We met over there to exchange them.” I looked up just in time to see his mouth tip upward in a small, sad smile. “She was so pretty. Charmed both of us before we knew what had happened. I was going to ask her out, but Matt got there first.”

           “Oh, Nick,” I mumbled. Before I could stop myself, I reached out and laced my fingers with his. Almost reflexively, Nick’s hand clutched mine. He held onto me as if letting go meant he might drown. My heart broke for him. “Is that why you look so sad?”

           I watched his eyes squeeze shut. He swallowed hard. His hand held on, and my heart broke even more. “It’s what she wanted. And they’re happy.”

           “But you’re not.” I pulled him to a stop and tugged him around to look at me. “Do they know?”

           “No. It won’t change anything.” Nick’s voice was quiet and pained. He looked at a spot over my head. “Matt loves her. He’s crazy over her.”

           I took his hand in both of mine, surprised to feel tears burning in my eyes. “Hey,” I said, trying to make my voice calm. “I’m here for however you need me, Nick.”

           Somehow the echo of his earlier words seemed right. We might not have known each other well, but I could feel his heartbreak as if it were my own.

Nick

           I blinked. Hard. I didn’t like feeling like I was going to cry. Not that I thought men shouldn’t cry, but I personally hated the everything about it. My face scrunched up and I just looked like an idiot. And I really didn’t want to cry in front of Shaye.

           Her hands were so small wrapped around mine. I could feel how tight I was holding on, and I wanted to let go. But I couldn’t. It felt like I would die if I let go. I’d never said a word to anyone about what happened the day Matt and I met his girlfriend. I swore I’d take it to my grave since saying it out loud would only make things worse.

           Shaye gently tugged her hand free and dropped her backpack on the floor. She leaned up on her toes and wrapped her arms around my neck. One minute, I’m surprised as hell. The next, I locked my arms around her waist and lifted her straight off her feet. I tucked my head against her neck and held on as if my life depended on it.

           “I’m so sorry, Nick,” she said softly. Her mouth was right next to my ear and I couldn’t stop the shiver that raced down my spine. She settled her hand against the back of my head.

           I hid my face against her shoulder. It didn’t matter how much I hated it. I cried, surprised by the strength of my heartbreak. Saying it out loud made it real.

           Out of nowhere, she kissed the side of my head. It was faint, but it was there. I squeezed my eyes even tighter. Shaye hugged me as hard as she could. And I hugged right back.

           “You’re so good,” she whispered firmly. “Good and kind. You deserve to be loved just for you, Nick Jackson.”

           My heart ripped open. I held onto her as hard as I could. I cried, and I realized that to anyone looking on we looked like two long separated lovers finally reuniting in the airport. I sucked in a deep breath, filling my lungs with the scent of her hair and her clothes. My traitorous mind whispered home.

           “I’m sorry, Shaye,” I said at last. It took all of my strength to put her on her feet. I wanted to hold on. Good God, did I want to hold on. But I made myself let go, take a few steps back. I wiped my eyes with the heel of my hands.

           “Hey, hey.” Shaye reached up and swiped her thumbs beneath my eyes. “Nothing to be sorry for, Nick. It’s okay.”

           She patted me gently on the chest with both hands before she stepped back and picked up her backpack. I sighed, already missing how it felt to hold her. And I hated myself for it. That wasn’t what she needed.

           I took another deep breath. “I’ve never told anyone about her,” I found myself confessing. A relieved laugh spilled out of me. “I never thought anyone would understand.”

           “If anyone would, I think it would be me.” Shaye sounded so sad. I felt a flare of hatred for Kenny for breaking her heart. I watched her take a breath before she reached out and laced our hands together again. “I know I slept a lot on the plane, but I’m exhausted.”

           I had to force myself not to hold on too tightly. “My car is in the long-term lot. It’s nothing fancy—it’s a Nissan.”

Shaye

           I fell into step as Nick led the way out of the terminal into the night. I was used to the heat of the city, trapped as it was between steel and glass hundreds of feet high, but California was so different. It was a heat that was simultaneously draining and refreshing. The sky above was dark, blotted out by the light of Los Angeles.

           “You seem to think that I’m not used to not fancy things,” I said as I glanced up at him from the corner of my eye. “Just because I grew up on the Upper East Side.”

           He blushed. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

           I bumped him in the shoulder and smiled. “Honestly, Nick,” I said softly, “it doesn’t matter to me.”

           We were quiet as we walked across the parking lot to the long-term spots. Nick’s car was an early 2000s champagne colored Nissan. He popped the trunk and tucked our bags inside. Then he walked around and opened the passenger door. “Still,” he said with a coy smile. “It’s not a Town Car or the Hilton.”

           I leaned against the side of the car and tipped my face up to look him in the eye. “I’d rather it be a Nissan and a one bedroom apartment in Rancho Cucamonga than a 50,000 square foot apartment on Fifth Avenue right now.”

           Nick looked down at me with his bright blue eyes. I could see them in the dark as if they were sapphires glittering beneath strobe lights. “Or a Tokyo high rise?”

           “Definitely not a Tokyo high rise.”

           He smiled. For a moment, it looked like he was genuinely happy. “Yeah. I think I like this better than a Honda and a studio in Riverside.”

           I didn’t have to ask what he meant. Who he meant. I slid past him and put one foot into the car. Then I turned back to look at him. “D’you think we can get something to eat on the way?”

           Nick laughed as he walked around the front of the car. It was a beautiful, bright noise that made me smile back. “Ever been to In-And-Out?”

           “No. Is it like McDonald’s?”

           He rolled his eyes. “How dare you blaspheme the In-And-Out.”

Nick

           We sat in the parking lot of the In-And-Out off the I-15, eating our food under the street light while we sat on the trunk of my Nissan. Shaye was practically devouring an all the way double-double as if she hadn’t eaten in days. I could tell I was grinning like an idiot when she looked up at me.

           “What are you smiling at, Nick Jackson?”

           I gestured to her mouth. “You’ve got some sauce…”

           Flustered, she looked around for a napkin. The next thing that happened was either brave or stupid. I reached out and wiped the corner of her mouth with my thumb. Of course, I then wiped it on my jeans, but still.

           “That is not appropriate etiquette at a dinner table, Mr. Jackson,” she teased. It made my whole body warm.

           I laughed. “Good thing we’re on the trunk of a beat up Nissan then.”

           If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was blushing. “A really good thing.”

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           “Hey,” Dean said, reaching out to take my hands in his. “What’s wrong?”

           “What…” I replied, taking a deep breath. “What do you guys expect from me?”

           It was quiet for a moment as they looked at each other and then back at me. “We don’t… Addy… we don’t expect anything from you. We just want you to be happy. That’s all.”

           I gasped in a breath. “We’re… I thought…” I gestured around me at the apartment, at the fact that it was the three of us alone together.

           Dean slid his arm around my back and kissed the side of my head. “Princess, if all you ever want to do is eat pizza, watch movies, and sleep—alone—all break, that’s fine with us. We’ll set you up in Seth’s room.”

           “You don’t even have to hang out with us if you don’t want to,” Roman added, his taking my free hand in his. He brushed his thumb along the back of my fingers. “Just having you here is enough for us.”

           I suddenly felt as if a weight had fallen from my chest. The two of them watched me carefully, their faces open and honest. They looked at me as if the world turned around where we three sat together. Dean’s forehead settled against my hair, his warm breath skimming along my throat. Roman caressed my skin as if I was made of porcelain and velvet.

           “I thought you guys would want more from me now that we’re… you know,” I said as I glanced between the two of them.

           Dean chuckled mischievously against my ear. “Well, I’m not going to deny that I’ve thought about it.” His wide hand skimmed up the line of my spine. “But it’s all on you, princess. It’s whatever you want. Whatever, whenever.”

           “Why are you guys doing this?” I asked quietly. “Most guys in your position would take advantage of it.”

           Warmth slipped through my limbs as Roman chuckled. “Trust me, baby girl, I know I’ve thought about every which way to take advantage of this position,” he replied, wiggling his eyebrows. “But why are doing this? Because we love you, Addy. And there’s nothing that we wouldn’t do for you.”

           I breathed deeply. “So if I were to say I was… interested…”

           “All you have to do is ask,” Roman promised. “One. Both. What you want. That’s it.”

           “You won’t be upset with me, with each other, if I wanted to… stay with one of you rather than both of you at night?”

           “Princess,” Dean said, his fingers curling against my chin and tilting my face to meet his gaze. “I don’t care if you sleep in Roman’s bed and fuck him every night you’re here. As long as you get up in the morning and smile at me, as long as you kiss me and tell me you love me… nothing else matters.”

           Roman sank onto the sofa next to me. “If you want to sleep by yourself in Seth’s room and not see either one of us at night, that’s fine with us.”

***

           We had Chinese takeout for dinner. The three of us sat around the rickety table in mismatched chairs sharing General Tso’s, fried rice, and egg rolls. The TV played low in the background and drew Dean’s attention every now and then. He’d found a show about restoring classic cars.

           After dinner, Dean collapsed on the sofa, the hood of his sweatshirt up over his gingery-brown hair. Roman packed away the leftovers into the fridge while I went to drop my stuff in Seth’s room. The walls were plastered with record covers and tour posters of a myriad of rock bands—most of them of the alternative punk and emo persuasion. The full bed was made up with a black comforter and slate grey sheets. It was clean and organized. The desk had a stack of CDs on the shelf and a few worn paperbacks beneath the lamp.

           I pushed my suitcase into the corner and sat down on the edge of the bed, taking a deep breath as I let myself settle into the understanding that this was my life now. While Seth’s room looked comfortable, I didn’t like the idea of sleeping alone. I just couldn’t figure out how to maneuver the sleeping arrangements for the night.

           To take my mind off the conundrum, I grabbed my toiletries and headed to the bathroom to take a shower. It took me a moment to figure out how the shower worked, but when I finally did the water came out wonderfully warm. I slipped beneath the spray and let it run over my face and hair. After a while, all that mattered was the way the steam relaxed my senses and drew the worry from my limbs.

           I took my time drying my hair before wrapping in a towel to head back to Seth’s room to get dressed. I opened the door and took two steps into the hallway before I ran smack into Roman’s broad chest. When I looked up, he was grinning down at me, his dark eyes burning bright.

           “Feel better, baby girl?” he asked, stroking his fingertips along my cheek and down my neck.

           “Yes,” I replied, nipping the inside of my bottom lip. “I had some time to think.”

           He watched, waiting patiently, letting me take my time. I settled my palm against his chest, feeling the beat of his heart beneath my fingertips.

           “Are you okay with me sleeping with… sleeping in Dean’s room tonight?” The words came out more hesitant than I intended. My shower self had been desperately certain of her decision.

           Roman tucked his knuckle beneath my chin and lifted my head. His lips curled into a smile. “I’m fine with it, Addy. I promise. As long as you still love me, as long as you’re honest with me… I’m fine with it.”

           I stood up on my toes and pressed my lips to his, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I love you, Ro,” I said, smiling against his mouth.

           He curled his arms around my back and lifted me from the floor. He squeezed me until I could hardly breathe, but I didn’t care. “I love you, too, baby girl.”

***

           It was near midnight when they started winding down. I sat on the sofa, curled into Roman’s side, and wrapped in a blanket. There was an old B-rated horror movie on the television that barely held my attention. I was more preoccupied with figuring out how to tell Dean my plans for the night.

           Roman nuzzled his nose against my hair and kissed my temple. His mouth settled against my ear. “Just follow him when he gets up,” he whispered as if he knew what I was thinking. “It’ll make him happy.”

           I threaded my fingers with his as we waited in the quiet. My heart started to pound against my ribs. I squirmed, nerves settling in my chest.

           Almost half an hour later, Dean unfolded himself from the armchair and stretched, pushing the hood back of his hair. “Night, Ro. Night, princess.”

           He leaned over and dropped a kiss on the top of my head before padding toward the hallway. I glanced up at Roman, calmed by his steady smile, and kissed him goodnight. Then I slipped off the sofa and trailed behind Dean. He turned toward the bathroom, so I went straight into his room.

           It was so different from Seth’s and Roman’s. Where Roman’s was utilitarian and Seth’s was orderly, Dean’s was a verifiable disaster. Clothes were piled in heaps in his desk chair and on the floor. His bag was thrown in the corner, books and supplies spilling out of it. Magazines were stacked in haphazard towers. I grabbed one from the top of the nearest one and plopped down on the end of Dean’s bed, unsurprised to find the magazine was dedicated to classic cars.

           Dean slipped through the doorway, kicking the door shut with his foot as he tugged his hoodie over his head. I flipped the magazine closed and tossed it back onto the stack. He jumped and turned around, denim blue eyes going wide when he saw me. I couldn’t stop my gaze from walking up the length of his torso. I bit down the faint sigh of surprise as I drank in the way his broad shoulders tapered down over a toned chest to a ridiculously narrow waist, a deep V disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans.

           I bit my lip and looked up at him, feeling boldness spill into my veins. “I’m cashing in my twenty-nine.”

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