|Chapt.6|

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Two days go by. Then three. Four. Five. No word from Keith. No funny texts. It is a Friday evening when the walls around Lance's brain finally crumble to the ground. It starts when Hunk asks a simple question.

"What's going on with you?"

Lance looks up from his laptop. He's sitting at his desk, chair turned towards Hunk, who is sprawled out on his bed looking at the ceiling. Lance doesn't answer at first. But then says, "Me? What do you mean?" His voice squeaks, making his question sound extremely defensive.

"Come on, Lance." Hunk sits up, now face to face with him. "I've known you for like ten years. Don't make me play guessing games with you. You've been acting really weird, and we haven't hung out in like three weeks. Kate says you won't talk to her. What's your deal?"

Lance knows there is no point in lying, but he tries anyway. "It's just schoolwork, ya know? I'm so worried that I'm starting to do worse than I used to."

Hunk doesn't even dignify the lie with a response. He just stares at Lance, waiting expectantly.

Lance sighs in defeat. "I've been...going to the bar. A lot."

"The bar?" Hunk raises an eyebrow at him. "By yourself?"

"I have a crush on a boy. A big, nasty, soul sucking, life ruining crush."

Lance blurts it loudly, the words falling off of his tongue without his permission, like they've been dying to get out. Hearing it come out of his mouth sounds foreign and terrifying, and makes it feel way too real. He sees Hunk's shocked expression and it makes him incredibly nervous. So he decides to do what he does best when he's nervous, and he starts rambling.

"I don't know whats going on Hunk. I see him and then I just want to see him again and again. I like his smile, and his hair, and his stupid lip ring, and I can't, for the life of me, stop thinking about him. I mean, not that I'm thinking about him, you know? But like, he likes Cheetos? And he has anger issues. But like, not really anymore—"

"Lance,"

"And I think his laugh is pretty? I literally have never thought of a laugh as pretty, Hunk. And he's super pale but it works for him and he can pull off a man bun. Like, how many people do you know who can pull off a man bun? It's insanity—"

"Lance..."

"And I feel like I'm losing my mind because I want him to be happy but I barely know him, and I shouldn't be this attracted to a boy but I am, and he watches alien documentaries, and I just think he's beautiful, and I feel like I'm dying—"

"LANCE."

Lance lets out a long breath that he didn't realize he was holding. He looks down and sees his hands shaking. He refuses to meet Hunks eyes.

There are a few beats of silence then, and Lance contemplates jumping out of the window to end this awkward misery.

Hunk takes a long, deep breath. "So obviously, we're talking about that drummer kid, right? What's his name? Keith? So I don't have to spend half the night guessing that."

Honestly Lance isn't at all surprised that Hunk knows who he's talking about. Hunk literally knows all.

"So how about you actually tell me what's been going on so I have some backstory to this random epiphany?"

Lance feels relief swirling comfortably in his chest. He realizes at that moment that he has missed Hunk so much; being able to confide in him, talk to him, laugh with him.

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