Ask And You Shall Receive (Langst/Klance)

1

Lance looked up. The vastness of space always terrified him. And now, he was in an observation deck in the middle of it all. Protecting it all, he doesn't really know who he is anymore.

Everyone in this vast universe depends on him. And his team puts pressure on him. Lance learns not to crack jokes, or cry, or try to put it anything at all. Red needs a fighter, Voltron, the team, The Universe, it all depends on Lance not being Lance anymore. And it's hard, Lance wantsto be the funny guy, but he can't. He can't be himself because he just hinders people. He earns cold stare and exasperated sighs anytime he is himmself so why bother.

Lance trains, for 30 minute, then an hour, then 2, then 4, and he looses count. Somewhere in the time he was training on this night, he started crying. He started cursing himself for being born, and he starts laughing. Laughing at himself, at how weak he is. He laughs at his brothers and sisiters, how beutifuly naive and blisssfuly ignorant those beutiful children are. And he laughs at the team, and then he screams at the team. And then he screams at himself, he lets the gladiator hit him, he puts away his bayard and accepts every punch, kick, and swing from the sword he receives. The boy manages to stay on his feet.

Lance sits still screaming profanities directed at himself, the gladiator stops, anouncing its victory before retreating. Lance lays down, feet still planted firmly on the ground he slides his back in the ground, and tears the skin on his face with his nails. He scratches up his arms and legs, and just, he just lays there. Broken and bleeding. This is Lance now. A sweaty bloody, ball of angry and numb. And, whatever. If this was him, then so be it.