Bloody Texas

Oh No, It's Getting Depressing *snaps* Cue The Sad Music

Lance loved the smell of clothes straight out of the dryer. He loved the warmth and softness they held. When he was younger, it was the closest thing he had to affection. When he wished for someone to hold him or when the world was particularly cold to him; he came home, poured the clothes out, and let them fall down on him like rain. It seemed like a silly thing at the time. He would always start off with laughing that would slowly progress into tears. The best feelings he could access were hugging pillows, warm shower floors, and clothes from the dryer.

When he got the HIV results back, his body fell numb. The yelling from his parents went right through him as he stood there like a ghost. The whole world felt like it was traveling underwater. He went upstairs to the dryer in slow motion and yanked all the clothes from it, scattering them across the floor of the laundry room. He fell to the ground and finally recovered his emotions. He clung to the various shirts and jeans as he cried for hours. All his siblings and disgusted parents ignored his sobs and left him all alone. That's the first night he planned to kill himself.

Knock. Knock. "Lance?"

Lance looked over at Keith standing in the doorway. He wore his leather jacket and cheeky smile, "Whatcha doing?"

Lance hugged Keith's pillow tighter and rolled onto his side, taking in a deep breath of his scent. "Just thinking."

Keith walked up to him and leaned down to his level. His eyes were like precious jewels that held Lance's entire world. "About what?"

Lance lifted a hand and placed it on his cheek. "Nothing important."

Keith covered Lance's hand with his own and kissed his palm. That's when Lance noticed how thin he had gotten. He and Keith used to be pretty close in size when they met, but now his hand was half the size of Keith's. His skin wrapped around weak bones and a thin layer of muscle. The tendons in his hands were carved out with his knuckles. Even his ring was just slightly bigger than he remembered.

He was dying.

Keith's eyes locked on his face again, "Lance? What's wrong?"

He forced a smile and shook his head, "Nothing. What did you need?"

Keith leaned in to kiss his nose, "I want you to come downstairs."

Lance scrunched his eyebrows together, "Why?"

Keith pulled him off the bed by his wrists, "Just come on! It'll be fun!"

Lance was led down to the kitchen and was greeted by a mountain of baking supplies spilling over the counters. He pointed at it, "Um, Keith? What is all this?"

"We," Keith placed a tiara on Lance's head, "are going to bake a cake." He flicked his nose, "Any one you want."

A feeling of warmth enveloped his chest and leaking into the room. It wasn't the same as the clothes from the dryer. It was better. Lance's cheeks brightened, "I want a devil's food cake."

Baking with Keith was anything but elegant. He was messy and took no regard for measuring utensils. Lance laughed at him and constantly checked over his work. Keith liked to play around when he could get away with it. He painted Lance's cheeks with batter and chased him with handfuls of flour. In the end, Lance caved and blew a mound of white onto his black clothes. They fought with eggs too, busting them over each other's heads or shoulders. Keith also spun Lance around as he licked the batter off the spoon, placing him up on the counter to make out. By the time the cake was done, the whole kitchen was coated in all of its ingredients.

"You!" Lance pointed at him with a soapy whisk. "You are terrible!"

Keith leaned over and planted a kiss on his cake-covered cheek. "But you love me."

"You're lucky I do," he picked up another dirty dish and ran it under the water.

Keith smirked and set down his towel. He leaned an elbow on the counter, pressing his sleeve into a splotch of butter. "You wanna finish this later?"

Lance chuckled and pointed to his arm, "You're real sexy when you're covered in your dessert."

"Am I?" Keith placed a hand behind his head and posed.

"Stop that!" A laugh formed in Lance's throat. He tossed the dish into the sink and dried his hands.

"How about," Keith dramatically moved his arms and swayed his hips to mimic Elvis, "How 'bout we go and," he slicked his hair back, "wash up."

Lance's laughing intensified, bringing tears to his eyes, "Oh my god! I love you, but don't ever do that again."

Keith held out a hand for him, tilting his head and raising his eyebrows. Lance took it and was pulled into a spin. Keith sweetly kissed his forehead as they swayed. "Let's go."