Lance was on Shiro's bed, the blankets crumpled beneath him. His eyes drifted between Shiro and Pidge, both hunched over the console, their faces lit up by the dull glow of the communicator screens. They were scanning through the channels again, just like they had been for the past four hours, searching for any sign of Keith. Lance watched them work, his guilt twisting deeper with each passing minute. Every time Shiro's brow furrowed in frustration, or Pidge's fingers flew faster over the keys, Lance felt that familiar knot in his stomach tighten. They didn't know. They had no idea why Keith wasn't answering their calls, why his communicator signal had gone silent all those years ago, unaware that Lance was the one who had pushed Keith away.
Pidge sighed, leaning back in her chair, eyes tired but still determined. "I've checked every channel. There's no trace of him," she said, her voice edged with frustration. "It's like he's completely off the grid."
Shiro shook his head, worry etched deep into his features. "Keith's not the type to disappear like this without a reason. Something must've happened."
Lance winced at Shiro's words. He could feel the weight of his own guilt crashing over him. Hunk pushed open the door to shiro's room, "You know, Keith's probably just been busy. He always had a way of disappearing on his own missions, right? Maybe he's been tied up with something important these past few years."
Pidge didn't even glance up from her screen, her fingers still flying over the keys as she muttered, "Three years is a long time to be 'busy,' Hunk. We've checked every channel. Nothing."
Shiro didn't say anything, but the look in his eyes said enough. He wasn't convinced either. There had been no signal from Keith, no word, no explanation. Just silence. Lance stared at the ceiling. The guilt that had been festering inside him for so long felt unbearable now, he could feel the truth clawing at him, begging to be let out. he could end this right now. He could tell them that Keith had left because of him. But would it make any difference? Would it bring Keith back? Or would it only make them resent him for not saying something sooner? Lance's thoughts spiraled as he fought with himself, the guilt and fear battling for control. If he told them the truth, it wouldn't change the fact that Keith was gone. It wouldn't bring back those lost years. But if he didn't say anything, if he let them keep searching, he would only be lying to them—and to himself—about why Keith had disappeared.
"Lance?" Shiro's voice broke through the storm of thoughts in his mind. Shiro was looking at him now, his expression soft but concerned. "is everything okay?"
Lance felt his stomach twist. The words were there, right on the edge of his tongue, but they wouldn't come out. His chest tightened, and all he could manage was a weak nod. "Yeah, just... tired. hahaha"
Shiro let out a tired sigh, running a hand through his hair. His gaze shifted to the clock on the wall, and he rubbed the back of his neck. "I think we should call it a night then," he said, his voice low but steady. "It's getting late, and I'm sure Curtis will be home soon. He'll probably want to sleep right away."
Pidge paused her typing, blinking at the clock as if noticing the time for the first time. She sighed, slumping back in her chair. "Yeah, you're right. We've been at this for hours."
Hunk stretched, his arms reaching high above his head. "A break's probably a good idea. Maybe we'll have better luck next time."
you didnt even do anything, hunk!
With goodbyes exchanged, they all headed their separate ways. The ride back to lance's family farm was quiet, the stars passing by as they always did. By the time he arrived at the farm, the familiar smell of the earth and the quiet creak of the front door greeted him. His mother and siblings were already asleep, and the house was silent. Lance slipped inside, careful not to wake anyone, and made his way to his room. It had been a long day—and all he wanted was to collapse into bed and let the exhaustion pull him under. But as he flicked on the light, something immediately felt off. The room was eerily still, the air too cold, as if the chill of the outside had somehow slipped through the walls. His eyes instinctively darted toward the window, and that's when he saw it—glass scattered across the floor, the night sky spilling in through the jagged remains of his window. confusion quickly turning to alarm. How hadn't he noticed earlier? He took a cautious step forward, his gaze fixed on the shards glinting under the pale light, trying to make sense of what had happened. Had someone thrown something? Broken in? Before he could piece it together, he heard the faintest of sounds behind him—
"Lance."
Lance froze. His heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, he thought he might've imagined the voice. Slowly, Lance turned, his pulse quickening as he faced the doorway.
"Keith?" Lance's voice came out as a whisper, barely able to speak the name. His feet were rooted to the spot, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing. It didn't seem real—Keith, here, after all this time.
...Keith?
Keith's body swayed slightly. Lance rushed forward just in time for Keith to collapse into his arms. Unable to support the weight of two people, Lance slammed into the wall with a thud. Keith fell sideways into him, all limp, and his head cracked against the wall, letting out a loud thunk. Lance's heart clenched along with the noise. That thunk sounded especially painful.
"Keith? What's wrong?" Lance called to him several times, but Keith's eyelids were so heavy that his lashes didn't so much as tremble. In addition, his face was flushed. When Lance reached up to touch it, both his forehead and cheeks were scalding hot, as if he had a fever.
First a fever and now he added a bump - let's not make things worse!
