chatroom | klance au

24

     The next morning was an absolute shitshow for Keith. His head pounded in his ears like a drum, the memories from the night before flashing in his head. Lance was above him, snoring delicately.

Keith was, to put it lightly, a mess. His raven black hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, strands randomly sticking out in places they shouldn't be. He wore a black shirt spotted in questionable stains with sweatpants and the bags under his eyes that taunted him.

Keith swore under his breath, trying his best not to wake Lance up as he tip-toed over to his dresser. He picked out a red sweater - thankfully with 0 stains, and a pair of black skinny jeans. He quietly opened up the door to the bathroom and slid everything on before taking a look at his hair.

Yikes.

He undid the unruly ponytail and began brushing through it. It had grown longer after a while, now coming down to a little bit past his shoulders. He was thinking of cutting it, but he kept pushing it back out of pure laziness.

Once he decided his hair looked decent, he opened up the door once again as softly as he could and plopped back down on his bed, taking his phone and scrolling through random social media apps mindlessly.

Lance yawned, sitting up and looking around him. "Keith?" he asked groggily, wiping his eyes. "Yes?" he muttered, still trying not to talk to him more than necessary.

Keith was hurt over what Lance did. He understood why and didn't blame him, but going into another relationship would just make everything worse. He obviously didn't want to go through what he did again. Feeling like he was the most worthless piece of shit occupying the planet Earth for weeks on end wasn't exactly Keith's ideal plan.

"You're already dressed? Wished you could have woken me up, pretty boy. I probably look like shit right now," he laughed quietly, smiling at Keith. 

He winced. "Oh. Sorry," he muttered softly. Lance's choice of words wasn't exactly the best. Keith hated it. He hated every second of it. He hated that he didn't know that he was hurting him, and he hated that he couldn't do anything about it. 

And, god, did Keith hate the fact that Lance literally looked like Sleeping Beauty.

He, quite noticeably, had taken his shirt off at some point in the night. He obviously didn't have a 6 pack, but damn, he still looked really hot. Keith mentally slapped himself.

"Bathroom's over there," peeped up a small Keith, pointing towards the familiar door as Lance climbed down the ladder that connected the two beds and groggily grabbed his duffel before heading into the bathroom.

As he sat on the bed, a soft blush tinged Keith's cheeks as he thought of Lance shirtless again. Why did he have to come in here and fuck everything up?

You're being selfish, his mind chimed in. He doesn't have anywhere to go.

He let out a shaky breath as he watched the tall figure emerge from the illuminated doorway. He wore a simple, (yet incredibly hot) outfit, which included black ripped jeans, a denim jacked and a white shirt. The jeans complimented his long, lanky figure and the shirt showed off his torso. 

"Do you want-um," Keith tugged on the sleeves of his own sweater, "Do you want breakfast?"

"That would be nice," Lance responded, flashing a dopey grin.

"I can't do this," he whispered under his breath as he took in every inch of that dumb smile, groaning audibly.

-
"What do you want?" Keith asked, his head buried in the pantry to avoid Lance's gaze. "We have Cheerios, oatmeal, toast, other random stuff."