The Grinning Blue Barista (Shance Modern Coffee Shop AU)

Chapter 6

Hey, guys. Slow updating on this one, huh? Anyways, here it is. Please enjoy, and leave a comment on what you think. You have no idea how much I appreciate comments, they make me want to continue writing. Sorry this chapter is so short.

******************************************
Lance was exhausted. The night had been a disaster. He'd accidentally brought up how he missed his seashell glass at dinner, which set Lotor off. He'd yelled at him for an hour, not to mention manhandled him and paced while seething. In the end, he hadn't even calmed down, just left with a slam of the door.
Lance had tried to slow his heart down, cleaning up dinner and breathing deeply, but couldn't help the tears slowly trekking the passage of his cheeks. Lotor hadn't ever been that angry, slamming his hands on the counter, grabbing Lance's hair and wrists. Lance could already feel bruises forming along his arms. His tears fell into the sink, where his hands had stopped moving to clean the dishes, instead just sitting in the lukewarm water. He raised them to cover his eyes, water mingling with the salty tears. His body was wracked with sobs strong enough to buckle his knees and send him to his knees on the ground.
Eventually, he dragged his heavy body to his bed, passing out almost immediately on the soft fabric.

When he awoke, it almost seemed as though he had never fallen asleep. He was exhausted, and had an awful headache. His arms didn't hurt anymore, but were covered in bruises that would. Poking one of them, he reasoned that as long as nobody touched them, he'd be fine.
Upon choosing an outfit for the day, Lance choose a long-sleeved form-fitting sweater and his normal skinny jeans. No way was he leaving his bruised arms on display for everyone in the cafe to see.
Passing the mirror, Lance realized just how tired he LOOKED. Puffy eyes, dry down turned lips, streaky cheeks. How could he look this bad even after sleeping? He sighed, splashing his face with water. Now for chapstick. There, at least he looked presentable.
Before he could leave, someone knocked on Lance's door.
"Coming!"
When he answered the door, Lance came face to face with his Landlord, an older man with a receding hairline, barely-there beard and piercing icy blue eyes. Lance knew immediately that this would be about last night.
"Mr. Jackson," Lance wheezed. "Hi."
"Hey, Lance." he started, eyes piercing Lance's, trying to see into his soul. "Some of the other tenants reported hearing screaming coming from your place last night. You okay?"
Lance sighed internally, but only smiled on the outside.
"Oh, everything's fine. No need to worry."
Of course, lance could tell that Mr. Jackson didn't quite believe him, but at least he let it slide with a simple 'okay'.
This time, when Mr. Jackson had left, Lance sighed externally. And now he would have to rush to get to work on time, too.