Anathema | KLANCE

TEN: Baby Boy

Beep.

"Shit, shit, shit..." Lance whisper-screamed at himself, turning off the coffee pot quickly and making sure nobody woke up from the blaring sound. The time read 3:01 on the dot, and he couldn't sleep for the past three days. Nonetheless, he snuck into Hunk's house with the spare key his friend gave him, just to make coffee since his machine was completely broken already.

Pouring the scorching-hot coffee into the same cat mug from four days back, he saw a distorted reflection of his droopy eyes and worn-out expression in the grime-covered carafe, instant dread flushing out his weariness. Each day, the cycle has been the same: midnight restarts the chain and segues into loneliness, then a few hours later, self-contempt boils up to the surface, and the rest of the day switches back and forth between lethargy and anguish.

There was no way for him to channel out all the locked-away emotions he's built the past couple of years, and he could feel himself on the edge, staring down at a warped void underneath the cliff.

Swirling some of the vanilla creamer in the mug, Lance ogled at the diffusing light-brown color in the cup, too distracted to hear the footsteps padding down the creaky floor of Hunk's house. While one hand was preoccupied with mixing the caffeinated drink, the other unscrewed the cap of his antidepressants, scavenging for two tablets blindly. His two hands moved, but his eyes were planted on the reflective surface of the coffee pot, absorbing how terrible he appeared.

Disgusting.

"Lance..."

"Holy fuck-!" The coffee splashed on his jerking hand, a burn visibly forming despite the lights not being switched on. "Ah, shit, shit, my wrist!"

"Watch your language, some people are trying to sleep," A small elbow nudged him in the hip, stealing the coffee pot and downing half of the remaining amount in one gulp. "You're starting to worry us, you know. Did you even eat yesterday?"

Pidge's question made the fidgeting boy twitch, realizing that he hasn't had any food in the past two days. "Um..."

"Why do I ask when I already know the answer?"

The dissatisfied sigh was painful to hear, Pidge's glassless-face leaving an intimidating impact on the sleep-deprived boy. After glaring at Lance with a puzzling intention, they plodded down to the fridge, rummaging around in the meat drawer as the other intruder guzzled down the sweltering drink. To Lance, it tasted bitter enough to awaken his exhausted soul, closing his eyes and sticking his tongue out from the overwhelming, nasty sensation.

A chilly stick was smacked onto his forehead, eyes bulging out from the sudden movement. Pidge was waving a massive slab of pepperoni in front of him, a teasing-smirk developing their famous dimples in the unlit kitchen.

"You caaaan eat it, you know, if you stop sulking around and avoiding your hunger." Lance swallowed the bitter-saliva forming in his mouth, salivating from how appetizing it appeared to be – his stomach growled from accepting the fact he was starving, the two freezing from the obnoxious sound.

Hunk's snoring ceased in the seconds following after the rumbling-stomach, both of the trespassers ducking down by the cabinets.

"Are you fucking serious, Lance?"

"I-I couldn't help it! It looks so good..."

"Shhh, we're going to wake him up!"

"This wouldn't have happened if you didn't scare me-"

"Oh, so now it's my fault?!"

"I wouldn't have done that if you weren't here!"