Lance remembered that summer night with such clarity. It had been the second anniversary of Allura's sacrifice. Scraps of red from spent firecrackers had littered the ground, and the faint smell of smoke lingered in the air. Her memorial ground was alive with laughter and merriment, the vibrant hum of freedom filled the air as friends and allies shared stories of her legacy. But amidst the smiles, Lance stood apart, a heavy silence clinging to him, his heart weighed down by a deep, aching sadness that no amount of revelry could lift. In the warm glow of the firecrackers, Lance looked up to find Keith's heart-stoppingly dark eyes gazing at him, filled with unspoken concern.
His gaze, the laughter and chatter around the memorial ground.. it all became a blur to Lance as he quietly slipped away, his steps slow and heavy. Allura's face, her smile, her sacrifice—it was all he could think about.
"Lance!"
He stopped, his heart skipping a beat at the familiar voice. he turned to see Keith standing there, his dark eyes full of concern.
"Lance, wait," Keith said softly, his voice gentler than ever, "about the letters-"
"I don't read them."
Silence fell between them, thick and heavy. Lance could feel the weight of his words pressing down on his chest, suffocating him. When he finally forced himself to look up, Keith was staring at him, the hurt was clear in his eyes, like a sharp blade that Lance had driven in without thinking.
"You dont read them?" Keith repeated quietly, more to himself than to Lance. He said nothing more, the pain evident in his face.
Lance swallowed hard, guilt twisting in his stomach. He hadn't expected it to feel like this, like he'd shattered something delicate between them. He wanted to explain why he had to push him away, but the words stuck in his throat. Keith opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, his communicator beeped. The sudden noise startled both of them, cutting through the tense silence. Keith glanced down at it, frowning as he read the urgent message. His eyes flickered with worry, and without hesitation, he answered.
"I have to go," Keith said, the hurt still lingering in his voice. "Something's happening back in space."
Lance stood there, frozen, the guilt crashing over him like a tidal wave. He watched as Keith's figure disappeared into the distance, the weight of what he had said sinking deeper into his chest. He had lied about not reading the letters; and now it was too late to take it back. The guilt gnawed at him, growing with every step Keith took farther away. Lance wanted to call out to him, to say that he really did read them, but the words caught in his throat, swallowed by the silence Keith left behind.
Years passed since that summer night. Lance remembered the way Keith looked at him—hurt, like he had taken something from him without realizing it. Lance thought he would come back, that they'd talk, and maybe things would get better between them. But Keith didn't contact anyone after that. Not lance. Not the team. Not anyone.
The third anniversary of Allura's death came and went, and there was still no sign of him. The rest of them gathered like they always did, sharing stories about her, keeping her memory alive. But it felt wrong without Keith there. Besides from shiro, they didn't talk about his absence much, but it hung in the air, unspoken and heavy. They all felt it—how strange it was, not knowing where he was or why he left without a word. But lance felt it more than anyone. He couldn't shake the guilt. The way he pushed him away, refused his help, lied about those letters. Maybe if he had just tried to let him in, things would've been different. Maybe he wouldn't have left at all.
The fourth anniversary came around, and still, nothing. No messages. No word. It was like he had disappeared completely. lance checked every communication channel, but there was nothing. they were left wondering if Keith was okay, where he'd gone, if he was ever coming back. But deep down, lance knew. He wasn't coming back. Not after the way he'd pushed him away. Not after he let him leave that night without saying what he should have said.
