Room 1013

A Gun

Keith was cleaning when he found the gun. A small black pistol tucked away in the corner of Lance's drawer. He stared at it for a few minutes before carefully picking it up and walking out into the kitchen. Standing with the gun in hand, he stared at Lance as he cooked.

Lance heard him walk over, but didn't look to acknowledge him. "Hey baby, do you wanna do the regular chicken or-" He finally did a double take and stopped his tasks when he saw his hand.

Keith kept his eyes on the gun, letting the cool metal crease his palm. "Lance, what the fuck is this?"

Lance's breathing quickened, "That's..." Keith met his eyes. "That's a gun."

Keith gave him a dramatic nod, "I see that." He waved it a little to emphasize his words. "What the fuck is it doing in our house?"

"I," Lance locked his lips and fiddled with the towel on the oven door, "I take it-used to take it when I met with a dealer."

Keith's chest was silent. His lungs were slow and his heart was calm. He popped his lips, "This is your drug gun?"

"No," Lance pointed at it, "That is my defense gun."

"Lance," Keith sighed, "Can I ask you how the hell you even got a gun?"

Lance opened his mouth to answer, but opted to let out the breath he was holding. After a few seconds, he finally asked, "Do you really wanna know?"

Keith sighed and shook his head, "I guess not."

They continued staring at each other in a battle that neither of them knew they were fighting. Keith didn't even know what to say. All he could do was give in and return to what he was doing. Hesitantly, and with confused eyes, Keith returned to the bedroom. He stared down at the gun in his hand. What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?

During a lapse in judgment, Keith didn't put the gun back in Lance's drawer. Instead, he pulled out his suitcase and stuck it into a small pocket on the inside. It was the safest place he could think of at the time. There was no way in hell that he was giving it back.

"I don't know, Shiro." Keith hugged the fluffy pillow on Shiro's couch. "It's just different."

"Well, how is he doing?" Shiro sat next to him and leaned his elbows on his knees. "I mean, is he treating you right?"

Keith flashed back to the previous few days. "Yeah. We're like really good."

Shiro gave him a concerned look, "Then why are you so worried?"

Keith wanted to tell him about the drugs and the gun and all of the junkie friends, but he couldn't. "I just don't want him to do anything stupid. He's been under a lot of stress this past year and I'm afraid that he's not alright."

Shiro took a deep breath and pat his back, "He looks fine. I think he's gonna be fine now that you're alright."

Keith nodded, "Maybe."

No matter how much time passed, Keith still felt like something was wrong. An annoying itch bugged his mind all hours of the day. Lance was most certainly not fine. If he was, he wouldn't have done drugs in the first place. But what was Keith supposed to do? He had tried all he could to support Lance and give him what he needed, but it didn't feel like enough.

Everything Keith did was never enough. Lance was still irritable and depressed. He still didn't have that spark he harbored when they first met. It had gone out long ago and been replaced by a hollow void that needed much more than Keith to fill.

Keith rested his chin on the pillow, "Hey Shiro?"

"Yeah?"

He kept his eyes on the fireplace in front of him. "How did your dad handle being with a drug addict?"

Shiro's eyes fell into a deep trance as the memories flashed before his eyes. "He...didn't actually. It was so hard on him to keep everything together." A smile tugged on his lips. "I never went without-he made sure of that. However, as much as my dad loved him, he fell into depression. It took a long time for him to recover, but now he's doing great and has the best wife."

"So," Keith thought about his words, "Was it okay for him to stay? Or would it have been better for him to leave?"

Shiro thought about his words for a minute. They seemed to bewilder him and claw at his mind. "I guess..." he trailed off, but recovered shortly after. "I guess that it's best to leave, but it has to be for the right reasons and at the right time. I know that's complicated, but everyone is different." He looked back toward the happy voices in the kitchen, "My dad wouldn't be the same person if he had done anything differently."

Keith looked down at his feet and let the cheerful atmosphere hug him and warm his cold chest. "Yeah, I guess so."