you're gonna go far, kid | ON HOLD

chapter 4

When Keith was fourteen, he went to a concert. He'd been to a few before but this one was different. It still smelled like sweat and cigarettes, everyone was wearing tight jeans and dark eye makeup, the music was too loud, merch too expensive, but there was something different about this one. It wasn't just one of the bands that he listened to casually and didn't go out of his way to keep up with, but the one that he followed almost religiously and always made sure to purchase the music from instead of illegally downloading torrents. There were posters on his walls and shirts with the logo laying on his closet floor. To say the least, it was not an event that he took flippantly. If Patronuses existed in this world, there was a good chance that going to that concert would be rendered as Keith's happiest memory.

The feeling of seeing your favorite band walk onto the stage, only about ten feet away, is a surreal experience that one can only really understand if they've experienced it before theirself. Your head gets dizzy and you feel your heartbeat picks up as adrenaline spikes through your veins, and then you think to yourself, I can't believe that this is actually happening. Standing in awe and afraid to blink until you're walking out of the venue as if it'll all go away if you look away for a millisecond. That kind of feeling that stays for days, if not weeks, after it's over.

When Keith squinted through the smoke and saw the person before him, he felt something similar to when he went to that concert. The spike of adrenaline and surprise and denial. Especially denial. He didn't realize it, but he gasped. It was a stupid thing to do given his current surroundings, but Keith was never known for making the smartest choice when prompted suddenly without time to think. He fell over coughing and choking from the smoke inhalation, eyes wide.

It had been years since they'd last seen each other, but Keith was sure of it. Lotor.

With the small bit of control he still had, Keith forced himself not to run up and poke his old friend to make sure this wasn't some sort of hallucination. It had to be. The smoke had to be messing with his mind because there was no way that now of all times Lotor was making a reappearance. Keith had accepted, with much pain, that he'd never see Lotor ever again years ago.

There was an amethyst mask and hood over his face similar to the ones donned by Voltron, but eccentric blue eyes glowed in the shadow. As one would expect, his voice was much deeper now, but Keith could recognize his posh British accent. Allura had a similar accent, which shocked Keith the first time that they'd met, but even so, there was something about Lotor's voice that no one would ever be able to imitate. A flash of pale hair slipped from the hood as he bent down and with his all too familiar smirk, Keith's suspicion was confirmed.

Keith shouldn't have doubted it at all, it was painfully obvious. Besides, Lotor had always been one to make a dramatic entrance. And what better way to do that is there than in Final Fantasy armor?

He tried his best to school his face into neutrality as the two made eye contact. Lotor's predatorial smile widened in amusement, and Keith knew that he recognized him too. "Why hello there, dear friend, let's have some fun shall we?"

A golden gleam circled the iris of Lotor's eye and Keith's eyes widened slightly. Though there was still a chance that Lotor was the one being manipulated, Keith had a strong suspicion that he was actually the puppeteer in this game.

As if on cue some sort of foreign thing slipped into Keith's conscience and pressed against his mind. There was no just way to describe whatever it was, but as it clawed with slick claws he knew it was Lotor's doing and that he couldn't let it reap control of his mind. A talon reached out and shoved, and Keith screamed. It was unnatural and wrong in every way possible, and all Keith wanted was for it to get the hell out. The walls shielding Keith's mind somehow stayed intact , but the fiend circled like a vulture.