Peeling Covers: Lance

03. Quiet, Norm, and Break PT.3

Lance feels his legs shake and calls out, "End...session."

He then brings his hand up to his chest softly, as if reminding them that he's done for now. He hasn't pushed himself that much in, Lance doesn't even know how long, but he's quickly realizing he may have overdone it. 

The robot instantly gets lowered down before the deck closes the gap, taking the defeated robot as well. This leaves Lance's form alone, now doubled over with his hands on his knees for support as he tries to catch his breath.

He must have been running on adrenaline more than he realized if he is crashing like this now. Lance coughs, lifting his head to avoid sweat dripping into his eyes. He tries to hold his breaths in his chest before releasing them slowly, swallowing down bubbling panic at how hard it is to do so. To breathe. 

Keith's eyebrows furrow in concern. "Is he okay?" He asks out loud before consciously deciding to do so. Lance doesn't look well, but it's not good to just stop after doing such high intensity exercise. 'Maybe that's why?' Keith wonders.

Finding no one offering any answers, Keith looks around. The rest of the team are watching through the glass at Lance as well.

Click. "Lance, are you alright my boy? Do you require a hydration pouch?" Coran asks through the speakers, watching for indications the boy was not alright or could not respond. This behavior from Number Three was unusual, completely unprecedented.

Hunk and Pidge are both stepping quickly down the stairs before Coran's second question is asked. Keith follows behind them.

"I'm... fine. I just- uh- need... a second." Lance calls up around wheezing gasps, raising one hand in a thumbs up. He swallows around a mouth of saliva and closes his eyes, focusing on taking slower breaths through his nose. 

Expand the chest, expand the chest... Lance repeats in his mind, trying to will it into happening. An accident was not on the itinerary today, let alone any day in space. Lance needs to relax.

After a moment, Shiro decides to go down as well to see Lance for himself with Princess Allura behind him. The session was over after all. No reason to stay up here.

Coran was grabbing a hydration pouch after quickly scribbling the time and points on Lance's evaluations. Altogether, the team gets down to the deck to see Lance vertical, pacing slowly back and forth with arms raised above his head. 

Keep it moving, breathe, don't crash, keep it moving. Lance exhales for the three counts, ignoring any panic his mind was trying to force him to feel. Three counts. 

In for one, out for one. 

In for one two, out for one two. 

In for one, two, three -Lance's chest hurts, he swallows the stutter - out for one, two, three. 

Repeat.

Inwardly, the change from aiming to counting catches him off guard, adding to the cap of distress over his head. It feels like his chest is being squeezed too tightly to pull in most of the air he's actively inhaling, leaving him feeling breathless and slightly panicky.

His inhaler was on Earth. Hidden. 

Lance outgrew most of his symptoms, regular activity and breathing techniques stopping an attack from happening more often than not. Yet, here he is.

But it's fine. Breathe slowly. Shallow breaths. Accept the burn. Woo- this drill was hammered into Lance when he was younger. It's near instinctive to go through it as he forces his mind to calm.

He can breathe. He just has to embrace the sore feeling of his chest expanding first. 

In the meantime, Lance can concede to himself that this isn't a real cause to freak out. He hasn't worked this hard in a while, so this reaction to the careless cardio he did earlier should have been expected.