Happy Liar

Tears Don't Prey On Innocent Victims

Friday, 12:30 p.m.

Lance sat in class, struggling to keep his attention on his work, per usual, until finally the bell rang. He quickly gathered his things, shoving his paper in his backpack, and headed to the cafeteria for lunch. 

After getting his lunch, he walked outside where he normally spent lunch, on a bench at the side of the courtyard. He wasn't too hungry that day. He hadn't been the day before either. He ate his apple and a few bites of the cheese sticks they had for lunch that day before he couldn't stomach any more food. He threw away the rest, and returned to his seat. 

Lance was a generally happy person. He had a good home life, and a few good friends. However, aside from that, he was a mess. His grades were low, not because he wasn't smart, but because he had trouble focusing. He always felt like the second option. Pidge and Hunk always hung out and talked tech, which he didn't understand, and Allura was always with her girlfriend, Romelle. Even despite all this, he was a pro at hiding his insecurities. Nobody would take him seriously if he tried to vent, so why try, right? He normally was fine, and could deal with not talking about it. He was overall pretty happy with his life, but every so often, it would all just catch up to him and way him down until he let it out. Today was one of those times.

He spotted a tree a few feet from the bench at which he sat. Kids climbed the tree all the time. Maybe if he climbed it, he could just stay there before he had to go to his next class and listen to music. He walked up to the tree and grabbed one of the branches, attempting to climb it, but his foot slipped and he fell back to his feet on the ground. This would have been fine, except his left foot landed on a root and twisted, causing him to fall onto the ground in pain. "Fuck," He cursed, fighting back tears. It only takes a minor inconvenience to push you over the edge when you already feel like breaking down, and this it for Lance that day. He took his bag and sat on the ground behind the bench where he then broke down. He hid in his jacket, hood up, and let the tears fall. It's not like people would see. He was hiding, and they only see what they want to see either way.  It was the first time he had actually let himself break down in months, but he needed it. He curled up into a ball and sobbed quietly. His ankle still hurt like the devil, which just made it worse. 

He stayed like that for what seemed like forever before a voice pierced through the silence. 

"Are you okay?"

Lance tensed, but looked up wiping his tears and smiling. "Yeah, I'm all good, just twisted my ankle pretty bad, that's all"

The boy in front of him had raven hair cut in a mullet, and deep violet eyes. Lance expected him to leave, but instead he lightly shook his head and sat down next to him.

"You should go see the nurse about your ankle if it's that bad," He said softly. The stranger took a sketchbook out of his bag and a pencil from his pocket. The sketchbook had a black cover with a painted red floral design on the front. He flipped to an empty page and began drawing something.

Lance looked at him, confused. He said he was fine, why did he stay? "Like, I said, I'm fine. I've twisted my ankle before, I can walk it off."

The stranger never looked up from his sketchbook, instead just calmly answered. "If you say so. Do you feel comfortable talking about why you were really crying then?"

Lance was taken aback. How the hell did he know he was crying about something else? "I don't know what you're talking about," he lied.

"I've seen enough tears to know physical from emotional pain," He replied. "But I understand. You don't even know me so I can't expect you to tell me right off the bat. I'm Keith."

Lance took a second before just responding, "The name's Lance." He looked off to the side, a bit frustrated that his breakdown had been cut short. 

Keith nodded. "By the way, you don't have to stop crying just cause I'm here. I understand just needing to let it all out, so I won't judge, but I'll be here if you want to vent," he offered. Not once did he look up, nor did he show any sign of emotion.

Lance wanted to say something, but he decided against it. He did need to breakdown, so he let the tears continue to fall, but refrained from sobbing this time, instead just hiding his face behind his arms which rested on his knees. A few moments passed like this before the bell rang. Keith closed his sketchbook, returning it to his bag, before standing and holding out a hand. "Can you walk okay?" He asked, referring to Lance's injury.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," He said, trying to stand, but when he put pressure on his injured ankle, he nearly fell back to the ground. He caught himself on the back of the bench.

"You should really go see the nurse about that," Keith insisted, but Lance only insisted it was fine once more. "Alright. Before you go, though, here," He said holding out a paper from his sketchbook. Lance took the paper and looked at him confused. "I hope I was able to capture it well enough," He said before walking off.

Lance looked at the paper to see a drawing which featured a boy sitting down, smiling, with a shadowy, monster-like figure coming out of his back which appeared to be crying. He looked closer and realized the boy was himself. So this was what he was drawing. He was drawing what he thought Lance was feeling. 

How did he know?