Hijacking Reality

Chapter 12

So the story was like extremely dense so I tried some comic relief for ya'll since I'm not that cruel and yes I said I would update tomorrow but I realized it was Mother's Day and imma be busy so you're welcome!~ Anyway hope you enjoy, tell me what you think!

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The light weighted red colored bayard flickered in a fragile light that shed the same very hue of the newfound hilt of the sword that lay in the silky brown grasp of Lance. It was a brilliance of understanding between paladin and lion. Not just any lion, but Keith's lion. Red had a difficult personality and when it came to people she wasn't fond of their presence. This personality coincided with Keith, which is why they worked well together as the small silent team they were in Voltron as the right arm. For Lance to be accepted in this intricate thread laced with vigilance and fortitude, tied a firm knot deep within his chest. Just for the time being he would have the fallacious impression that he was significant in the lives of these lone prowlers. Though he was overjoyed with Red's confirmation, he needed his utmost attention to go through with his heroic actions.

"Keith," Lance leaned his ear up against the door listening carefully for any noises from the other for reassurance, he needed it because his nerves were jumping with apprehension, "I don't know where you are right now but I'm going to knock down this door. Make sure you steer clear and if not...I'm going to save you, okay?"

He closed his eyes for just a millisecond to see if the twitch of his own ears could pick up anything from Keith, but it was a no go. He swallowed and darted away from the door holding a stance ready for a take down. Palms sweaty and hands gripping the hilt of the red sword tightly, his face contorted with varied emotions like pain, sadness, worry, hate, and the most confusing-- undeniable devotion, infatuation, passion, tenderness, and a deep rooted yearning to just...hold Keith in his very arms. Once he had that, it would all but vanish to another existence and only the favorable pleasures would stem via those that were bewildering. He needed him more than he wanted him because without him, Lance felt empty, like his essence was slowly being chipped away into nothing. Lance could barely breathe without Keith being close. And it all started from a simple nightmare.

His pupils narrowed as his back muscles clenched along with his arms preparing for a swing. "Strong but steady," he uttered under his breath reiterating words that Keith said when attempting to aid Lance in sword fighting. That lesson never really did work out in the way that Lance planned. It had more nagging and punching than he wanted it to.

"One, two, three," he grunted out as if he were playing tenis and swung a hard blow at the unsuspecting plants.

He hit right on his target, making him cheer a bit on the inside since apparently pressure made him more accurate. The hard twigs screeched in an ire of steam and hisses as they slowly curled into a dying heap of useless dust onto the dirt covered floor. Though when Lance looked back up he saw a newborn spiral of twigs climb up the door once more.

"No way," a gasp played on his lips of shock, "No way man! Not in my house!"

He slashed and slashed and slashed. The rage easily consuming him as a new fire unleashed under his now heated skin. He wanted death upon these plants. He wanted destruction. He just fucking wanted Keith.

"You damn pesky weeds," light mewls of desperation set in as he let his body take control of the matter and with every word spoke he struck the sword heavily, "Leave him the hell alone!"

A frightening roar echoed the hallway causing it to shake uncontrollably. Even so, Lance never gave up, standing his ground like the real fighter he was. He wasn't in it for the glory like he normally would be. That could only be the real reason as to why he was still able to fight like this.