(I Do not own this story at all it goes to MonsieurDandylionMethod on Archive of Our Own and also check them out on wattpad as well their username is @MonsieurDandylion )
Keith works in Allura's flowershop. Lance takes dance lessons with Allura. Ke...
I kind of think that everything that happened to me happened for a reason. There are so many ways it could've gone, but I think this is the best ending. Right now, I'm watching Lance, my beautiful boyfriend, reach up to try to catch Allura's bouquet as she flings it over her shoulder. Shiro is standing next to her in a tux, handsome as always, his flop of bleached hair matching her full head that's bedecked by tiny gems and flowers that come from accents of her dress. They look amazing together, and I can already see their two kids, twins, Enzo and Emiline, frolicking in their backyard with a little boy named Caspian. Their farmhouse is somewhere I will visit often with Lance, as we're godparents.
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I watch as Lance and Hunk both grasp the bouquet of pink roses, and they immediately get competitive. I catch Hunk glancing at a beautiful woman, one of Allura's bridesmaids, named Shay, and I see his cheeks fan over in blush. I can smell Hunk's Cafe already, and now Shay accompanies him behind the counter, kneading dough and flicking flour over his broad, smiling face. I know that they'll be happy together, but they'll hold off on kids, just until they move into the empty apartment building above the cafe and turn one of the rooms into a nursery.
Pidge is off to the side with his brother, and I can already tell that he's gonna have a good life too. He won't get married, but he'll take Coran's spot as the weird uncle as Coran moves into Weird Grandpa territory, and he'll teach Enzo and Emi and Caspian to hack and code and build tin-can robots. He will live close to Lance and me, which is good because he's always getting into trouble and sleeping over.
And Lance. Our paths were meant to cross, of that I'm certain. From the first time we met at Allura's Arboretum and Floristry, my college job, to our first date with Sir Dab (who will sit in our living room, a constant reminder of when I nearly puked on you after the Zipper and when you showed me up at the water-gun game), to meeting your family, who we will visit often and sing Despacito with, just like before. From the video games, the pride parade, the club, your recital, and then, of course, my mother, you have been with me through it all.
I never told you but I think you proved Love At First Sight to me, that first glance at you, I knew that there was something about you. And under that hilarious, confident layer, I know that you're genuine and caring and compassionate. I know that you're empathetic from the way you held me when I came home from Texas, the way you cared for me for those first 6 months after my mother's death, when depression dipped into our lives and weighted on our shoulders. Lance Mcclain, you have carried so much.
I owe you my happiness, love, and I wouldn't trade you for anything. I can see our future from here, sweetheart. I can see that after college, we buy a studio apartment (Shiro's, actually) and you propose to me with a haiku. I know it's words, I know how your voice hitches on the word 'marry' even though you'll look so confident.
"To have and to hold
My Keith Kogane, I love you
Will you marry me?"
And you know I'll say yes, weirdo. You know it so when say that one syllable, your face lights up like sunshine and you kiss me and promise to make me happy. Little do you know, you already have. We'll move to California to a beach house, and at night we'll go outside and sit on the sand and while you watch the ocean, I'll look up into the stars and thank them that I have you. As you lean your head on my chest, I'll kiss your forehead and you'll tell me again that you love me.
Lance, you're gonna be a marine biologist, and I'm going to become a sociology professor at a local college, and I'll play guitar for my students who'll love me. They'll think I'm young and want to know about you and I'll tell them about our anniversaries when we go to a carnival, no matter how far away it is, and we ride terrifying coasters and you beat me, year after year, at water-gun games.
And Caspian, that boy I mentioned earlier... Lance, he's our son.
He came to us when we went to the adoption agency, he came zooming out of the door, holding a paper airplane and running so fast he tripped. When he bumped into you as we were filling out the paperwork to apply for a child, you looked at me with an expression that I'll never have seen before. You'll give me the clipboard and pick him up off the floor, setting him on your lap. He's three. I realize that he's going to be the one for us, and the adoption center lady shoots me a look that says she knows.
When Caspian turns four, his first birthday with us, he'll finally meet Enzo and Emi and they'll become best friends immediately. Us four parents will watch from our porch as they topple over in giggles in our backyard, and we'll talk about our college days where everything happened so fast.
By seven, Caspian will be a Star Wars fanatic and is scribbling out comics on notebooks we're buying every week. He has big circle-frame glasses and black hair that's messier than my bedhead. He likes hot cocoa and his favorite color is yellow. He's a weird kid. We would do anything for him.
Fast-forward, Caspian is 15. He runs a blog on Tumblr (what an emo kid, I think he takes after me for that part), and has turned out to be an incredible artist. Our house is covered in his paintings and sketches. On time, he draws us, Lance, me with an astronaut helmet covered in stars, you in the ocean, goggles around your neck and starfish on your legs. We frame it and put it in our room. At night when I can't sleep, I look at it. I think you do too, sometimes when I wake up in the middle of the night, you're sitting up in bed and staring at it. I can't blame us, it's gorgeous.
By the time he's in his early twenties, we confirm that we're actually adults now, in our late fifties. Caspian dated Emiline for a while, which was very weird for Shiro and Allura and us. But they decided that they were better off friends. Caspian is out of college and is in an art school. In a few years, he'll draw comics for a living, and they'll actually get pretty famous, so he travels the world a few times to do signings and stuff. We let him do it, we encourage him. We wish we had traveled more.
So we do. When Caspian turns 36, we take three months off and go to Europe, and holy shit is it worth it. When we get back, Caspian is dating a girl named Amy. Three years later, they get married. We cry together in the front row of the church, and everyone is there with us. Coran makes it, but he's getting fairly close to senile so Allura is constantly panicking that he's gonna have a heart attack. Caspian's honeymoon is in the Carribean, and he sends us pictures.
He's so independent sometimes it worries us. We wonder if we did something wrong raising him. He becomes much more family oriented when his first child, James, is born. He and Amy stay with us for the first 4 months of James' life, then they move back to their house in Michigan. We cry happy tears. Our second grandchild, Stella, is just as much as a light in our lives. Lance, you braid her long blonde hair and we get Christmas cards every year (that is, if they're not celebrating with us) of the four of them.
You retire at 67, and in spite, I resign exactly 1 year later. We don't trouble ourselves with much except our annual visits to theme parks to celebrate our anniversary.
...
The mechanic roar of roller coasters and rides are the bass to our song. On top, children's laughter and the sound of vendors calling out to entice passersby to play, play, play. Carnival music overlays the track and the hypothetical cameras pan to a couple sitting on a bench to the side of the gravel path. They're old, maybe 80, and are holding hands. One wears a blue sweatshirt, the other wears a red one. They complete the song. They are the Beat Drop, tying everything together, the flawless rise and fall. They are leaning against each other, and they seem to blend into the scenery, a perfect match that no one objects, an irrevocable connection.
