We're Going Home

7

Dear Keith,
It's not like I ever meant to feel a damn thing. Look, if this isn't what you want... then I can live with that, but it's gonna take a long damn time before I'm alive again. You don't get that there's this divide. See, just because you're living doesn't mean you're alive, and I get that I can breath because I have an air supply, but without you to breath in I haven't got a high. And I know that you're not supposed to tell people these things. That you just let them go and take what life brings, but I'm treading on water and gasping for air. And I don't even wanna swim back to shore if it's not you there. So yeah, maybe I wasn't supposed to give a fuck, but how can I when, without you, I don't think I can ever be enough. You smell like daisies and memories worth wasting film on. I'm just preparing myself for when you're long gone. Yeah, I'm living but God only knows if I'm alive. And if I don't have you I can't thrive. So, you can leave me here, it's not like I ever meant to feel a thing, but since I did, It would be nice to know if you did to?

~Lance

Lonely Boy ~The Black Keys
He crumpled the letter and threw it to the floor, laying back on his bed and staring at the ceiling. His emotions were like a bad trail mix in his chest. He didn't know what he wanted. He wanted to kiss him, but was that him or the man in the mirror? He wanted to dance with him and sing with him and... and he wanted him to go away. To get the hell out of here and away from him because he didn't want to feel anything. Keith made him feel this potent concoction of emotions like venom when he wanted nothing more than to cease to be anything. He made him feel like he was flying, but he made him scared. He was terrified to lose him.

Lance stood up and picked up the crumpled letter and smoothed it over delicately. He folded it up and stuck it in his pocket, stepping out of his room and walking resolutely to Keith's room.

He slipped the letter under that door then started walking in the other direction, very determinedly the other way. Lance didn't want to have to talk about it right now. He clenched his fists and turned.

He wandered the hospital for the greater part of the day. The Cuban felt a sense of regret and fear. Did he really want this? Was his letter honest? Of course. He'd never been more damn honest in his life.

Besides, if Keith did read it and was awkward about it he could just plead insanity. He was in an asylum after all.

Lance sat down in a library. It had very few books. Basically, they tended to eliminate anything that might trigger the patients.

Lance stood as something caught his eye. He slowly paced over and laid his hand on a book that read, 'Galra History'. He ran his fingers carefully over the binding. His hand tremored nervously. The boy blinked twice, to see if he was just seeing things. It still read the same. He shook his head slowly and backed away.

The lunch announcement rung through the compound and Lance turned and left the library as quickly as possible.

He heard someone running behind him. When he turned, he was inches from Keith. "I did." Keith said, breathless. His eyes were red and the letter sat in his hand, damaged from tears and crumpling and being unfolded and folded so many times.

Lance hadn't expected to be confronted about it so soon. Why was Keith crying? Lance stepped forward and wiped a tear from his cheek. Of course he was elated. But he was too shocked to show it. A smile spread across his cheeks. "Thank god." He whispered.

They sat down at lunch and Lance seemed to be shaking. Keith was still recovering from crying so hard.

Lance pushed the book out of his mind and focused on here and now. Keith felt something too. Lance had no idea what, but he did, and that's all the more he needed.

Matt eased the tension by sitting with them. But Matt being there made him think about the book again, because Matt still believed.

"So I have an idea!" He said, filling his mouth with food. He continued one he swallowed. "So like I'm guessing if we get far enough the simulation has to stop somewhere right? Or like there has to be a way that the others get out. An abnormality in this universe. Right?"

The book.

Lance nodded. "You're right, Matt." He murmured. "You've gotta find it."

Matt looked ecstatic he stood up. "I should start now, shouldn't I?!"

"Yes. Start now Matt!" He replied. He wanted him to go away so he could talk to Keith.

Matt hopped up and dumped his tray then started heading towards god knows where.

Lance waited till he was far out of sight before focusing on Keith, who was silently picking at his food. Lance took a bite, chewing, just to delay the inevitable a bit longer. "So about the letter." He started awkwardly.

"Yeah?" Keith raised his brow.

"I meant it. Every word." The cafeteria seemed distant. It was as if his voice was hitting empty space and echoing.

A grin graced Keith's face. "I'm glad."

"It sucked didn't it?"

"I have never, in my life, seen words written with more raw emotion than that letter held. It was gorgeous." His voice was small, as if he was afraid to say it.

Lance's eyes averted to the table, a smile hidden inside them. "You know, Keith Kogane, you are really damn cute when you're nervous."

"Well, Lance McClain, you are very fucking hot. All the time." The words escaped his mouth against his will, more powerful than what he'd wished for. A blush shone red across his cheeks.

"You know what this means?" Lance said, standing up and slamming his hands on the table.

Keith looked up, startled. "What?"

"It means Matt is sleeping in my room tonight."

Keith's eyes widened. "Why?"

"Because, Mr. Kogane, that statement gave me several ideas." His eyes were half lidded and begging for Keith to agree.

Keith stood up slowly, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Oh, Mr. McClain, your ideas don't matter tonight."  

With that, Keith dragged Lance off to his room and locked the door behind them.