Black and Blue

1 Day to Blizzard

Knock. Knock.

Keith didn't react to the door, staying in bed. He hugged his pillow tighter and kept his gaze on the wall as his father sounded from behind the wall.

"Keith?" He paused a moment, his mouth trying to form words, "Keith, you should come eat something."

Keith stayed lying in his bed; his mind blank, yet running a hundred miles an hour all at once.

His father huffed, "You haven't left your room for days now. Please come out."

Keith closed his eyes, replaying the scenes that haunted him. Every hit Lance endured. How his face contorted into a mixture of fear and betrayal. The vase splashing water and petals over his defenseless frame. The look on his face when he told Keith to leave.

"Keith!"

Broken out of his daydream, he finally turned his head toward the door. He took a deep breath, then stood up. He wore baggy black sweatpants and curled himself in Lance's light grey sweater. He could feel his skin stretch over his collarbones and hips, and his clothes seemed to be just a little bigger than he remembered. He rubbed his eyes and grabbed the doorknob.

"Keith y-"

Keith opened the door to his father's surprise. The two stared at each other for a moment before Keith let out a small voice, "I think I'm hungry."

Keith's father wrapped him up in a blanket and put him on the couch with the tv on; then, he went to prepare some food. Keith hugged his knees to his chest and rested his head on them as he watched the screen. A sitcom that he didn't recognize was on, but his mind couldn't process the humor in their strange words, so he just dozed off until a tray was set on the coffee table in front of him. It held a plate speckled with saltines, various berries, and a small cup of vegetable soup. Next to it sat a glass of water. Keith stared at it for a moment, then extended a hand for a cracker. He nibbled on it as he kept his eyes on the ground.

His father took a worried breath and kneeled down to face his son. He kept a calm face as Keith's eyes looked to him. "Son," he rested a hand on the couch, "Can you tell me what's going on?"

Keith reached for the glass of water, bringing it to his lips, "Lance." His voice was dry and emotionless as he spoke.

"Did you two get in a fight?" He raised an eyebrow questioningly.

Keith took a small sip of the water and thought for a moment. They had, but that wasn't the whole story. He hesitantly nodded his head, then took another sip.

His father gave him a pained look, "Well, people fight, its a fa-"

"No," Keith stopped him, brought his knees to the side, and returned the glass to the table, then rubbed his tired eyes, "That's not the only thing."

He tilted his head in confusion, relaxing to fully sit on the floor, "What do you mean?"

Keith fiddled with his hands in his lap, keeping his head down. After a moment, he brought his eyes to his father's and choked out a whisper, "He's in trouble, Dad."

He scrunched his eyebrows together, "He's in trouble? How?"

Keith bit his lip to hold back tears and shook his head.

"Keith? What's going on?" His voice got more desperate with every word.

Keith brought his arm up to wipe his tears with the sleeve of Lance's sweater. "His mom!" Keith sobbed.His father pulled Keith into a hug as he cried into his shirt. "She's terrible!" he sniffled, "She's so mean to him!"

Keith's dad shushed him, petting his hair. "What did she do?"

Keith cried harder, balling his shirt into his fists, "She hit him!"

He pulled back and took Keith's face in his hands, "What did she do?" His voice turned into concern laced with anger.

Keith held his wrist and shut his eyes tightly, "She hits him! Over and over. Then," he hiccuped, "Then she threw the vase at him, and" he pulled his hands up to cover his face, "I hate her!"

Keith felt his father stand and pace around the room.

"I hate her!" Keith babbled, "Why would she do tha-"

They both stopped to share a look when there was a sudden knock at the door. Keith hadn't stopped to notice but it was evening, maybe around six o'clock. He turned to the door, then back at his father.

His dad held up a finger and started toward the door, "Stay there." Keith watched him as he opened the door and leaned back slightly in surprise, "What are you doing here?"

Keith curiously strained to see who was at the door, leaning over the armrest.

"Where's Keith?" The door jerked slightly, "I need to speak with him."

Keith jumped back at the familiar voice. He attempted to stand, but stumbled through the dizziness. He held his head and called out, "Lance!"

"Keith?!"

Keith's father moved out of the way and let him in. Lance ran over and pulled him to his chest as Keith fainted. He dropped to the floor and cradled the wobbly boy with a hand on his cheek. Lance's face was full of concern and regret as his eyes darted around Keith's light body. "Keith?! Are you alright?"

Lance was wearing a black leather jacket with a grey shirt and dark jeans. Keith brought a hand up to his cheek, brushing his fingers over his lips, "Are you really here?"

Lance's left eye was black and there was a cut on his jaw below it. He smiled as his eyes filled, "Yeah, I'm here." He leaned over slightly and pulled Keith up into an embrace, cradling his head in one hand. "I'm sorry," he pleaded, burying his head into Keith's neck.

Keith wrapped his arms around his head, "Are you okay?" He pulled his knees around to sit on them, keeping his body intertwined with Lance's.

Lance pulled back a little, their faces inches away from each other, "Am I okay?! Are you?" he wrapped a hand around Keith's wrist, "You're so thin!"

Keith yanked his arm out of his grasp and brought his hands up to his cheeks, pulling him towards him in desperation, "You're hurt!" He let go and leaned back to let out a few sobs. He dropped his head, "I'm sorry I got you hurt!"

Lance quickly pulled his face up, "That was not your fault." A tear fell down his cheek, "I'm so sorry I yelled at you."

Keith nuzzled into his hand, smiling and crying at the same time.

"Will you ever forgive me?" Lance choked out.

Keith looked up and nodded, "Of course I do!" He jumped onto Lance, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. The two fell back and Lance returned the hug around his waist. After a few moments of sobbing, Keith pushed himself up and leaned down to kiss him.

After pulling away, Lance pushed them back up and brought a hand to his cheek, "Will you please eat now?"

Lance took care of the starving, depressed boy that night. He spoon-fed him the soup, made sure he got enough water, and let him lie on his chest for warmth. As Keith lay on Lance's chest on the living room couch, he stared out the window. He still couldn't wrap him mind around the fact that Lance had come to him. That he was there. That he didn't hate him. Keith's chest ached at the thought of Lance hating him. He took in a deep breath of him. He smiled at the scent of cookie dough and campfire smoke that soaked into his shirt. He had fallen asleep before Keith; which was nice since his eyes were dark with bags underneath them. Keith turned back to the window, nuzzling his cheek into the warm fabric. It had gotten dark outside, but he could make out the snow starting to fall in the dim street lights. Watching the small petals of snow fall onto the ground was serene to him. They kept his eyes calmly occupied as he slowly succumbed to the sleep that took so long to claim his body.