We're Going Home

6

Hey,
I don't know what's happening to me. There's this odd new painful ache in my chest. It's integrated itself to become a part of me. It's the only part of me I can recognize anymore, yet it's so new. I wish I knew what the hell it meant?

It nestled itself there and wakes up every time I look at Keith. Is that normal?

Hey Jude ~The Beatles

Lance returned to Keith's room that night. He was quiet when he crept in with his blankets and pillow.

Inside Keith was sitting up, pen on paper, the comforting sound of a calligraphy pen scraping against the white surface. A beautiful tune in a soft tone flowed throughout the room. Lance paused in the doorway, he could feel some sort of fire blooming in him as the voice continued. It was gorgeous. His voice flowed gently and carried perfectly around the room. He couldn't hold back a gasp.

Keith looked up at Lance through his lashes and the voice immediately silenced. Lance's eyes widened, "that was you?"

"I sing Matt to sleep when he wakes with nightmares," he explained briefly. "It was bad, wasn't it?"

Lance's eyes filled with a familiar sparkle that had been lost long ago. "No."

Keith blushed a deep red and stared at his hands. "You're just saying that."

He shook his head slowly. An idea sprung into his head. "Sing for me?" He just longed for more of the angelic noise that had somehow been created by Keith's lungs and lips.

Keith shook his head bashfully. "Two's a crowd, and I have stage fright."

Lance laid his things down. He started to pace, wondering if he was willing to do this. He didn't know what it was but somehow Keith's voice had managed to pierce the veil over his eyes. It was so fresh, so clean, and it was the first thing to seem so real since the room. "Sing for me," he started to bargain. He was going to regret this, "And I'll dance for you."

An evil grin spread across Keith's face. Still, he didn't know whether he was willing to sing just to see Lance dance. His voice was a fragment of his soul, and belonged to those who needed to hear it. Yet, the way he danced was so mesmerising that maybe-

"But I'd like you to dance with me if we do dance." Lance added, nervously.

Keith considered this for a moment. "Let's dance." He strode nervously to Lance and placed his hands on his shoulders. Lance giggled and took one hand off his shoulder. The sound wasn't normal for Lance. It didn't belong. Lance didn't giggle anymore, yet Keith gave him this strange high.

Lance placed one of his hands delicately on Keith's lower back then used his other hand to grab Keith's free hand. Lance's fingers placed tentatively on bare skin. Keith could feel an odd sort of electricity at that point, surging up his back.

He looked up at him, fear and love mixed in some sort of toxic concoction in his eyes. Lance bit his lip then his mouth spread into its classic grin. "Now for your bit of the bargain. We can't dance if we don't have any music."

Tempt you ~Nothing But Thieves

He inhaled deeply through his nose then an unbelievable voice erupted from his chest. He weaved through different vocal inflections for a moment before it settled onto the lyrics, low and clear and gorgeous. "Darling, I'm gonna build you something."

A blush illuminated his cheeks, seen even in the dark. The only light that graced their path as they swept barefoot across the cold linoleum floor was the light from the stars and the moon, shrouded by clouds and the bars on their window as well as the curtains that seemed ever closed.

"How do I tempt you out of the city?" Keith asked this question desperately as he sang. As if the city was the fortress that kept the real Lance locked away inside this shell. As if Lance ever had a choice to leave.

Their feet weaved new patterns on the floor, making art with the trails they left as Keith stumbled and Lance carried him. He spun him, dipped him, and pulled him dangerously close to that devilish grin. As long as he sung Lance kept the glimmer in his eyes. The moment he stopped the glimmer started to fade, so Keith wished to never stop. Never stop even when he couldn't breathe any longer.

Keith's heart was pounding in his chest. They neared distances of less than inches away before Lance swept him away in a different direction. He grew short of breath, not only from the activity but also from the heavy palpitating of his heart telling him that this boy was way too close, and way too beautiful. That he should stop now, and that he should never stop. As Keith held the last note of the song Lance dipped him again, his face shadowed and Keith's brightened by moonlight.

Their noses brushed and Keith could feel Lance's cool minty breath on his lips. He sucked in air quickly, afraid of what might happen next.

Lance hesitated, searching Keith's eyes frantically for a yes or a no. After a moment Keith squirmed out of his grip and went over to his bed, sitting down, his feet swinging over the side.

Change the topic.

Don't talk about whatever that was.

Or wasn't.

"I know that I had tried and failed to commit suicide." His eyes flitted over patterns in the ceiling that he'd already memorised a million times over. "I don't know anything further than that. I have no idea about any of my past. It was all erased. There is nothing beyond this hospital. I know the sadness is true. I can feel it inside of me. But there has to be a reason why I can't remember anything before the rope, and the chair, and the-" he shivered and curled his shoulders inwards. His head dropped, his eyes following the wall and floor until he came upon his lap. "Honestly, Galra simulation makes a lot more sense than anything else I've come up with this far."

Lance stood there stiffly, arms at his sides. "I'm sorry," he told him. Not just for what had happened, how he didn't know anything before this hell, but also for putting him somewhere that he'd been uncomfortable.

He'd been smiling, he'd been laughing. How the hell was Lance supposed to know that they didn't both want-.

He didn't even want to breech any topic having to do with a simulation. It wasn't real. He knew that all too well.

"No. Don't be. It's not your fault. I just-" he rubbed his knuckles along his thighs, a nervous habit. "I don't know." He turned and laid down in his bed, rolled on his side, facing the wall. "Goodnight Lance."

He fought the urge to say something else, and yet with every ounce of resistance shown, he felt it surging towards his lips. "I- Goodnight, Keith."