Klance oneshots

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Keith backed away until his back hit the dirty wall and he got overwhelmed by dread, eyes snapping forward and pupil shrinking in fear. Keith’s hand scattered through the stained walls as if he was searching, desperate as if he was waiting for a secret door to pop up and take him

away, anywhere, but NOT here.

Not here.

He found nothing but the sticky feeling in his fingertips and grimaced, turning with wide eyes to face that person who’s been chasing him down that dark warehouse, and it wouldn’t help the fact that many people believed this house was hunted by the last family that lived here 36 years ago to be slaughtered by an unnamed killer, pieces of human scattered on the floor the next day, being cut off by an axe.
Keith remembered how many times he’ve been through the haunted house BS, he lost count, but this-

...this, was real.

His dad staring down at him with a twisted smile on his face while twirling around an old, rusty axe, was real. Not to mention the edges of the axe tinted with a hint of reddish brown, as if it was dried blood.

His usual clothes were battered, some pieces of the dark material hanging off his body as a reminder of what it was before. His shoes were gone, leaving him bare feet.

Texas kogane was missing an arm, leaving a few torn cloth to cover up the bloody mess, but that didn’t mean keith couldn’t see the trail of red he left behind every time he moved, and whenever he paused long enough he’d leave a small puddle on the floor. There were burn marks on his arms and legs, keith could still smell the scent of burnt flesh in his nose. The worst was the fact texas lost his left eyeball, replaced with a sea of black abyss. Those comforting, gentle grey eyes were gone, replaced by malice and hatred

Keith wanted to scream, hug him and tell him this wasn’t him, tell him how guilty he felt when he got forced by him to leave him to burn down with that house, not finding a body to bury and hold a funeral for.

But the problem was the fact it really WASN’T texas kogane standing in front of keith.
The man standing in front of him-keith just knew- was one of the ghosts who wanted his blood on the ground, the walls of this house, as paint.

“Watch your footsteps, son.” Texas rasped, the creepy grin staying on his lips as he lifted the axe and before keith could react the axe sliced through his neck. He felt the warm liquid flow down his neck and he choked, his head tumbling down on the floor, and his body went motionless.

Lance jolt out of his bed when a blood curdling scream ripped through the silence, trapped between the mess he called a blanket. After 5 minutes of struggle He managed to tug away his blanket and dash for the door, tripping over himself twice in the way. Lance knew that voice better than he knew himself, he didn’t know if the reason would be the fact he had an obsession with that idiot or because keith’s room was a few steps away from his. His bare foot tapped against the metal floor and in this sudden silence grabbing the castle in its clutches his steps sounded like rubble falling on the floor. Lance came to a halt in front of a certain door, not bothering with manners right now-he had priorities. Lance burst in the room, bayard in hand and ready to fight off a monster. His eyes darted around the room, gaze sharp as he searched for a threat but found none. Lights were out but lance’s eyes adjusted to the dark soon and he narrowed his eyes, stopping dead on his tracks when he found a a shivering figure sitting up on the bed, arms wrapped around their knees and face buried in their arms. A pang of pain went through lance and he lowered his bayard, slowly walking up to the bed and propping himself on the mattress, silently praying the boy wouldn’t kick him out because lance didn’t KNOW what possessed him to-want to try and comfort keith-someone who’d push everyone away, may i add.

“keith?” the said man let out a shaky breath, shoulders shaking. Lance draped his arm around his back, rubbing soothing circles on the material soaked with sweat. Keith shifted, making the cuban let out a yelp as he buried his face in lance’s shoulder. He was too tired, too scared to worry about this one right now. Much to his relief lance relaxed, laying his head at the messy top of keith’s.

“wanna talk about it?” lance whispered and the male beneath him shook his head, snuggling deeper into his arms.

They stayed like that for what felt like forever and soon keith was laying his head on lance’s lap, staring at nothing in particular with exhausted, dull eyes as the other kept running his hands through his black locks, eyes filled with concern and affection for the male using his lap as a pillow.

“lance?” keith mumbled, eyes still locked on the small dent on the wall.

“hm?”

“can you-can you tell me a story?” for a moment lance went silent and keith was afraid lance would push him away, stating how weird he was acting before stomping out of the room, but instead of the hatred he was waiting for, lance hummed, and much to keith’s surprise he started,

“ok let me tell you about that time i accidently poured nair in what was supposed to be mom and dad’s anniversary cake-”

“well aren’t you the troublesome kid.” keith mocked and lance gasped, his free hand clutching at his heart.

“you wound me!”

After a small, playful bicker, lance went on with the story and keith listened as he happily told him stories of the troubles he made with his siblings, he even managed to make the ebony laugh once or twice, which pleased him greatly.

They were half way through the story when he heard small snores coming from his lap and smiled, pressing a small kiss to the asian’s temple without a second thought and soon, sleep consumed him too.