- Langst One-Shots

- The truth, and nothing but the truth.

i constantly vanish from this book because i no longer have ideas nor motivation to write but i thought of this and now i want to write it.
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[Trigger Warning: descriptive SH, mental abuse, e//ting d//sorders]
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A choked sob ripped from Lance's throat, the purple bolt of electricity surrounding his body like an unpleasant coating. He felt his stomach churn, the bile building up and creeping up his throat as the electricity dissipated, quickly keeling over to vomit onto the metal flooring of the enemy's ship. His breaths were quick and ragged as he attempted to shake off the feeling to get back to his feet despite the room still being hazy. Seeing doubles for a moment and irritating ringing bouncing back and forth in his skull, he haphazardly made his way back to his feet using the wall as assistance.

When Lance's sight finally morphed back into solid figures and his ears stopped shreiking in dismay at least a little bit, he was greeted with faint gunshots. The leg of Keith's red and white suit was stood about a foot away from Lance's face. Everything was moving slow for him. In the blink of an eye Keith was by his side, hoisting the injured paladins arm over his shoulder and practically dragging him as quick as he could.

———

Lance awoke on his bed surprisingly, a rare but almost welcoming occurrence— because Admittedly, falling out of an Alien space tube every other week wasn't as appealing as it sounds. Quite frankly it's caused him quite the crook in the neck as well. He tossed the cotton blanket to his side, tossing his legs off the side of the bed. He let out a hefty sigh before proceeding to the bathroom to do his usual morning routine. When he finished, he of course made his way to the kitchen. He wasn't going to eat, but he enjoyed being around the crew.

"Hey, Lance, you're finally awake!"

"Yup," is what he meant to say. Instead, out came, "I wish I hadn't woken up, ever." His eyes widened, heart dropping into his stomach. He swallowed hard, looking down at his food which was suddenly extremely appealing to the Cuban paladin. No words were spoken for a moment, until Shiro's hearty laugh broke through the tension. "Honestly Lance if we could all sleep forever, we would." The team joined along laughing, Lance nodding and chuckling uncomfortably.

—

Lance had been avoiding his team for about 3 days, he'd been practically mute as well. Every time he tried to speak a sickly truth would come out.

"Oh, hey, Lance! I wanted to know if you could help me with this project!"
"Why? You think I'm stupid, you don't want me around when you're working."

"Hey, Lance, can you help me cook this?"
"The sight of food makes me want rip out my stomach so I can't eat ever again."

"Lance. Can you help me? I have to do some training."
"Oh, of course you would wanna spar with the weakest link. Easy confidence booster, huh lover boy?"

It went on, but, Lance was too sick to his stomach to memorize anymore. He keeled over on his bedside, arms desperately gripping at the rough sheets as he struggled to regain a steady air supply. He was having a panic attack, and a bad one at that. He wasn't sure what caused it, but he didn't have time to figure it out. He was a bit preoccupied with, well, having a Panic Attack.

His breathes were more like pained wheezes, his mouth wide and sputtering for something, anything, and yet he found nothing. He was in his room alone, he was in space alone, he was alone. He always has been and he always will be. He couldn't stop that. He was useless, worthless, a waste of space, nobody wanted him there. No one wanted him anywhere. They would all just be better off without—

. . .

blood.

When the hell had that gotten there? How the hell had that gotten there? Lance looked up, he felt as if he were in a trance. His arm looked like it had been mauled, various large and small gashes pooled with blood and god damn he was glad the pain hadn't registered as much as it should yet. He hyperventilated, rushing to grab something to stop the bleeding. His vision faded in and out, almost pulsating— the corners of his eyes going black  and filling with morbid stars. His arms were shaking, he was too tired to hold the towel to his wounds. He felt himself slipping away, the darkness was like a warm embrace.

Everything was going to be better now.

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I wanted to give a happy ending but :] not this time. Unless anyone wants a second part, then maybe. But for nowwww, sad times. ;) anywho, Tysm for reading! I'll try to post more often, if not here then in my BKDK angst book. I feel like I'm really repeating the same concepts in this book, which is why I don't write a lot anymore, but yeyeyeye, pls like & comment!!

Requests are open. <3