saints and soldiers » klance

6: The Leaving Song

Don't waste your touch, you won't feel anything
Or were you sent to save me?
I've thought too much, you won't find anything
Worthy of redeeming...

Keith poked at his food, pushing it around on his plate without eating any of it. The food actually smelled good, contrary to what he'd been expecting, but he couldn't bring himself to touch it. He did know, however, that there were three hundred seventy-two peas on his plate and that there were sixty-three scratches on the surface of the table.

He was in the middle of counting the scratches on the bench that ran along his left side perpendicular to his at the square table when someone slid onto it.

He looked up, expecting Coran. He was surprised to find a familiar face there instead.

It was the boy from the garage, the one who'd kept coming as everyone else backed away. He was wearing a blue shirt today, too, but this time, his face was less serious, less focused, and more relaxed. He looked friendly and open.

Two more people sat down at the other benches. One was a tall, muscular guy in a black t-shirt. The front of his hair was almost as shockingly snow-white as all of Allura's, with a scar across the bridge of his nose. The other was a girl with hair cropped short, glasses sliding down her face and a green sweatshirt on.

Keith was bewildered, unsure where to look. What was this? Why were they all here, why now, why him? Had he looked that lonely, hidden away in his shadowed corner? He'd thought he'd put off enough of an air of being fine with his solitude, but apparently not. Why else would anyone bother approaching him?

"Hey," the boy from the garage said. "I'm Lance. This is Shiro and Pidge," he says, gesturing first to the guy and then the girl. Lance looked maybe seventeen or eighteen, Pidge maybe fourteen or fifteen, and Shiro was probably in his early twenties.

Keith continued to stare dumbly as Lance said, a peculiar look crossing his face, "Do I know you from somewhere? You're new here, right? I know I haven't seen you here before, but somewhere else?"

Keith started tapping his fingers against his knee. Even Lance didn't remember him, when it was barely twenty-four hours ago that they'd last seen each other.

He was almost glad. If he could disappear, he couldn't get hurt, and Keith could always disappear. He'd learned it with his mother and perfected the skill with Roy. The last six years were just practice.

He wasn't sure why there suddenly seemed to be a weight in his stomach.

The three of them watched him expectantly, waiting for him to answer. He stared calmly back at them, at the wall behind them, every now and then looking back to his food. Silence descended firmly over the space, and he saw the three of them exchanging what they thought were surreptitious glances.

Pidge cleared her throat. "Did you know that bananas are a berry?" she finally said, and Lance shot her a look that Keith couldn't decipher and turned back toward him.

His blue eyes scanned Keith's face again, his brow furrowing. "Was it..." he began, tilting his head slightly to the side. Keith almost blushed, both at the scrutiny and because of the boy it was coming from. He didn't, though. His face appeared as apathetic as ever, he was sure. He wasn't really sure when the last time was that he actually allowed anyone to see his emotions.

Slowly, comprehension dawned in Lance's eyes. "Was it you, yesterday?" he asked. "At the garage?"

Keith didn't respond, but his steady, unblinking gaze holding Lance's seemed to be all the answer the other boy needed.

"You mean the police raid last night?" Shiro's voice broke in. He had a prosthetic arm, and the fingers on the other hand were tapping lightly against the table. Keith ceased his own identical tic the second he noted it in Shiro.

Lance nodded. "Yeah, I think so, right?" he said, seeming to be addressing the question to Keith. Lance looked over toward the kitchen, and Keith followed his gaze. A tall boy in a yellow shirt was standing behind the kitchen, serving food onto plates. He was staring at Keith and the others at his table, but his cheeks went red and he looked away when he noticed Keith watching him.

By the time Keith turned back to the table, Lance was staring at him again."You didn't talk last night either," Lance muttered thoughtfully, eyes still on Keith's. Keith looked away this time. He didn't know what to do with these people, felt the knot of stress from earlier returning to settle into his chest again. He stabbed his fork into his mashed potatoes.

Shiro and Pidge were looking at him with renewed interest now. "You're sure, Lance?" Shiro said, like Keith wasn't there.

It was probably better that way. He didn't want to be there.

Lance nodded confidently. "Yeah, I'm sure now." Pidge raised an eyebrow. "Then why didn't you recognize him earlier? You had to ask Shiro who he was."

Keith ignored the pang in his chest. There were one hundred six people in the dining hall that looked like wards, nineteen more volunteers intermingling with them, and seven people behind the food counter.

Lance was turned toward Shiro and Pidge, but Keith could see the other boy's eyes focusing on him from their corners. He looked back down at his food. "He knows how to disappear," Lance said softly, and Keith's fork fell from his fingers and onto the table with a clatter.

All three of them looked up at him, but he was staring at the fork- mashed potatoes coating its tines, the rest gleaming dully in the light- his lips slightly parted as he breathed. Was he that easy to read? So easy to decipher, so easy to see through and to figure out?

If he was easy to read, easy to see through, he had nothing. No defense.

He couldn't even do the one thing he'd been doing all his life right. He couldn't do it at all, much less do it well.

There was a slight hitch in his breathing.

Worthless.

He stopped. Reached for his fork. Wrapped his fingers around it.

Thought again.

Let it go.

Stood up.

Walked away.