Solving Keith

Flowers are full of protein.

Keith hits the puck with much more strength than necessary, frustrated.

"Keith! Chill out, dude!" He hears James yell, scaring across the ice to him. "Dude, what is going on today? You're gonna break your stick."

Keith huffs. He's frustrated, because of Lance. Lance. Of course it's Lance. It seems to be nothing but him lately.

They haven't even interacted much lately, and the last time they had hung outside of school was on Keith's birthday.

It's almost thanksgiving now. They were good. They were, but Keith felt the need to keep his distance, not wanting to be overwhelming or weird.

But, of course, Lance makes it impossible. Getting on the bus in the mornings in his warmest jacket, wearing a blue and white hat with little puffballs on the top.

He wears these ridiculous jeans, that sit low on his hips, so when he reaches up to put things in his locker, or when he bends down to get something out of his book bag during class, and his shirt rides up, a small sliver of that tanned stomach is exposed, along with two small dimples at the bottom of his back.

And he's not wearing makeup most days, telling Keith the cold weather makes his skin dry.

Keith could not care less. Lance was beautiful before, of course, but this version of him? It was doing something to Keith. Seeing all those freckles and beauty marks, was just so appealing. Though, he does miss that weird sparkly stuff he had on his lips.

What Lance had done today is the reason why he's frustrated.

Keith went up to Lance, finally mustering up the courage to invite him over, under the guise of studying.

He's walking up to him in the hallway during lunch, and he's no less than six feet away when some guy comes up to Lance, shoving a big bouquet of roses in his hands, blushing.

And Lance accepted it. He took it- with a smile! He was smiling at this random guy and his unimpressive arrangement of flowers- not even Lance's favorite kind of flower; Lance prefers pink roses, not red. Only an idiot wouldn't know that!

Keith turns on a dime, stomping off in the opposite direction.

He hits the puck again, almost growling.

"Some guy gave Lance flowers today," he tells James, grunting.

"Lance? Who's Lance... oh! the gay kid?" He asks. Keith pulls off his helmet nodding. "Wait- you like Lance?" James asks, wide-eyed.

Keith frowns shrugging. "I don't know. It just made me mad for some reason."

James laughs, elbowing Keith. "Well, how big was the bouquet?"

"Normal, I guess."

"Well, just get him a bigger one," James tells him, wiggling his eyebrows. "Show him who's better."

Keith looks at him thoughtfully. He nods, pondering to himself as he gets off the ice.

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The next day, Keith is on a mission. He doesn't even know why he cares so much about a damn bouquet but he does. He gets up an hour early so he can have time to go by the grocery store to look for a bouquet before school.

He can't find one as big as what he wanted, so he gets three of the biggest ones they have, taking them to the register, grabbing some of that scratchy, stiff, shiny fabric and ribbon on his way.

He puts his huge bouquet together in the locker room, cursing as he plucked out every thorn, popping them in his mouth, in too much of a hurry to get breakfast on his way out the house.