The memories of Lance's abuse were still fresh in the minds of the paladins. They realized that he probably hasn't had a good Christmas since the day he was born. It's about time that they changed that.
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Lance had never had a good Christmas. It was easier to say that Lance was never allowed to have a good Christmas. Not when he was living with his family, anyway. Thinking back to the Christmases that he left behind on Earth, there was never any good memories that came with them. He wanted more than anything to feel the joy that came with Christmas; the joy that everyone else seemed to have when he looked at people on the street. His father knew that too; every year he would taunt Lance with them. Presents, foods, cookies, anything really but he would never let Lance touch any of it.
One year, when he was about nine years old. Lance tried to sneak away with a Christmas cookie that laid forgotten on the counter while his siblings were raiding the kitchen. He had almost gotten outside when his father's hand wrapped tightly around his wrist and yanked him back. He looked down at him with such venom as he ripped the cookie out of his hand and threw it on the ground in front of him.
"You don't deserve these things, boy," he snarled at him before he slapped him across the face. A split second later, he backhanded the other one making Lance fall back with a cry. He looked up at his looming father with tears in his eyes, shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. His father spun around without a second thought and headed towards the kitchen again.
"Clean that up," he hissed before walking past the door's threshold. Lance gasped and scrambled up to his feet, scooping the broken cookie up in his trembling hands and stumbling to the bathroom to dump it in the trash. As he cleaned his hands of the sugar, he looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was dishevelled, his eyes were watery and filled with tears, and his cheeks were bright red.
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Red cheeks became a morbid Christmas tradition in his life. More than anything, he wanted to experience some sort of Christmas joy. So, every year he tried to somehow experience it. His father would always catch him though, whether it was sneaking food away from the kitchen, or decorating the small area behind the shed with decorations that had been thrown away and was punished for it.
He would sit up in his room or outside holding his stinging red cheeks, listening to the laughter coming from the living room as his siblings opened up their gifts. Sometimes he would cry and sometimes he just felt numb. Why couldn't he have the things that they did? All he wanted was to have a good Christmas. At least the colour of his cheeks were festive.
When he moved away to the Garrison, he opted to stay at the school over the break. Hunk invited him to come to his house for the break but he declined. He didn't want them to have to deal with him while they were supposed to be having fun with their family. He knew that Hunk meant well, but down deep he was afraid that he would be excluded like he was in his own house. He didn't want Hunk, his only friend to find out what happened to him during Christmas, or during his whole life really. That wasn't his cross to bear. It would always be his.
He was slightly afraid when his team started talking about Christmas. He didn't really know much about celebrating it, except for the small tidbits he could get from the TV when no one was looking. Thankfully, no one asked why he was suddenly so quiet, too caught up in the excitement that Christmas brought for them. He yawned and stretched his arms above his head, drawing everybody's attention over to him.
"I'm beat, I'm going to head to bed," he announced before running out of the room. The paladins looked around at each other.
"He didn't seem too excited," Hunk commented staring at the door.
