Voltron One Shots

Pressure

Summary: Lance tries to find a way to make the pressure in his head cease.

A/N: This is really self-indulgent sorry.

Trigger warnings: self harm, eating disorder 

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Lance closed his eyes and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyelids so hard that he could see stars. He let out a soft groan and leaned his head back until it was resting on the wall behind him. The pressure had been building in his head all day. He knew that if he got up and did something, it would help, but the longer he sat there, the more helpless he felt. 

All fixes were temporary.

Food helped only for an instant, then he just felt sick. 

Cutting never helped. It only made him hate himself more. And the scars that remained on his skin were a constant reminder of how weak he was. 

Training worked until he was finished. Then his body was sore and he felt no better.

He tried meaningless distractions, music, tv, drawing, writing. They just made his mind feel more cluttered. They began to feel like a chore to him. 

He tried being around others, but he found himself growing tired of them. He felt irrationally irritated at everything they did and said. 

Being alone didn't help either. Emptiness would bloom in his chest, filling his head with bad thoughts. Loneliness ate away at him, even though he knew that he didn't want to be around anyone.

He just wanted it all to stop.

Lance picked himself off his bed and crossed his room. As he neared the bathroom door he hesitated. He quickly turned and walked back to his bed. Dread swelled in his chest as he reached the edge. He grit his teeth and turned back to the bathroom. He repeated this several more times, pacing back and forth, unsure of what to do. 

Some time later Lance found himself staring at his reflection in the mirror, choking back tears. He didn't recognize the face that stared back. His sunken eyes, rimmed with red, and accented with bags from a lack of sleep. He was a shell of his former self.

Lance took the razor he had stowed deep in the bottom of the drawer and examined it for a few moments. He turned the cool gleaming object over in his hand and then slowly pressed it to his skin.

Lance felt like he was stuck in an endless cycle of pointlessness.

Everything he did seemed to make it worse.

Without another thought, Lance ran the blade across his skin. He hissed in pain and--

Everything quieted.

He closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath. Every thought left his mind. The emptiness in his chest faded.

Then, just as soon as it ceased, it began again.

Lance stared down at his blood covered hands in dismay as the pressure began to build once more.

He began to sob.