Anathema | KLANCE

ONE: Waiting Game

The moment finally arrived – after a whole year with his grandparents, Lance was back in his hometown of Cañon City, fingers tickling his anxiously-shaking wrists. This is the right time to do it, Lance, don't worry. They won't be disgusted.

Shrugging off his incoming anxiety, Lance stepped onto the patio of his best friend's family cottage, nervously biting his bottom lip while weakly assuring himself that it'll be alright. With a dozen of fleeting words, his knuckle collided into the wooden door, impatiently shifting around after nobody was coming.

"Wait, I'm almost there, just wait!" Pidge, who was adopted by Hunk's family, was yodeling dramatically, feet pitter-pattering so loud, even Lance could distinguish the sound. After a few seconds, the door was flung wide open, Pidge's glasses reflecting the insanely-bright summer sun. Lance's awkward, lopsided grin had no effect on Pidge, who squinted their eyes at him for what felt like hours. "Who the fuck... holy shit, wait – Lance? Lance, Lance Ramirez?"

Lance jerked his shoulder up, uncomfortably waving at the disbelieving friend he hasn't seen in his year away to be cured. "Hey, Pidge... yeah, it's me." His index rubbed underneath his nose, eyes scanning anything else nearby besides Pidge. " 'S been a whil- "

"ASSHOLE!"

Confused, he switched his gaze back onto Pidge, who physically tackled him to the ground in .25 seconds, nearly breaking his arm by placing Lance into a death-lock. Tapping out vigorously, Pidge's devious demeanor gradually changed into worry, eyeing Lance from his now-distorted head, all the way to the tip of his shoes.

"You... lost a lot of weight."

"L-Let's not talk about that! Is Hunk here? I wanted to visit and reconcile- "

A carton of eggs dropped onto the rickety-patio stairs, yolks almost landing in the same exact space that Pidge was pinning Lance down in. Hunk's surprised gasp was overdramatic, as he tended to be, and joined in on the wrestling session, Lance heaving once his body plopped down onto Pidge.

The entire time, Hunk's irreplaceable battle-cry pierced his eardrums, undoing a year's worth of silence and therapy. "Lance, Lance, Lance, Lance, Lance, Laaanceeeeeeeeeee!"

Maneuvering his sore hands, Lance clapped both of their backs, signaling for them to get off. "Yeah, it's me, buddy. Let's discuss this over tea before I die of asphyxiation."

--

Sipping the last drop of peach tea from Hunk's black-kitty cup, Lance's gaze lifted up once more, an interrogative-vibe floating around in the room: Pidge in their permanent-sitting Thinker pose, and Hunk idly whistling in the air, stealing glances every few seconds. With a sigh, Lance sunk in the too-comfortable seat, pursing his lips while contemplating what to say. He's been absent for their whole junior year, and now he's miraculously back from the trek he never mentioned to either one of them, only remaining in contact via Snapchat and messages. It's only natural for the three once-best-friends to be in a tense atmosphere: Lance left without a trace or clue of where he would be. For a reason he wasn't even sure of until he arrived.

The growingly-agitating tapping of Hunk's feet made Lance snap, repositioning himself once again and speaking before he could come up with the right words. "Um, well, sorry I left without telling you guys... it was, it really wasn't my choice." Pidge's glasses did that creepy anime-sparkle while leaning back, motioning for Lance to continue on with his ever-so-elegant way of broadly discussing important matters. "Aaaah, I stayed with Abuelo Antunes – not because I wanted to – and it was such a drab town. Floral City is the worst place in the United States, I swear... nobody even wants to live in Florida in this day and age..." Getting off topic once again, Lance coughed into his fist, attempting to recollect his thoughts on the right path. "Shit, I have no idea on where to start-"