Rings | Klance

Tchaikovsky

Use of derogatory words for homosexual men. Please do not read it this could trigger you. Safe reading xo

3rd Person

Lance had been living with Pidge for almost two weeks, he hadn't seen much of Keith considering he had a new job that he wasn't allowed to talk to the group about but Lance was healed. His teared skin had scabbed and healed over, leaving small marks. His face had a slight hint of green, but was easily covetable with a decent concealer and some powder, which Lance happened to own. Pidge's mum hadn't reported Lance's Father, which meant that Lance and Ronny could live together. Lance was laying in his 'bedroom' scrolling on instagram. The light was shining in from a crack in the shutters and illuminated the room, the orange colour of the walls added with the sunset made the room look beautiful and Lance could almost feel himself absorbing the heat of the sun.

His chest was exposed and he was only in his boxers, the door had a lock and Lance used it, even if Pidge's mum never even bothered him anyways. He didn't want any intruders.

He pulled his phone off the bedside table and clicked open his contacts, landing on Keith's number. Pressing call, he held the phone up against his ear, making sure he sat up so he didn't sound half dead over the phone.

The phone beeped and eventually Keith answered.

"Hey." Lance smirked, tapping his legs against the floor.

"...Hey." Keith's voice was shaky and hoarse, almost as if he'd been coughing for weeks on end.

"Woah your throat, you okay?" Lance's tone was getting increasingly worried as he spoke, he didn't want Keith to be sick.

"Oh yea, just a little cough." Keith's voice didn't sound great, but Lance's ring was telling him that Keith wasn't in any pain, so he let it be.

"Okay, well. Do you want anything, soup?"

Keith shook his head, almost forgetting that Lance wasn't right next to him, although he wished he was.
"No I'm alright, I'll see you on Monday and my cough will be gone by then. Oh, and we have a geography trip, wanna sit next to me on the coach?"

Lance thought for a moment, and a smile grew on his face.

"Yes of course I do." He sounded a little eager, and he hoped Keith wouldn't notice.

Lance tapped his foot against the edge of his bed and curled his big toe around his small toe in a nervous habit.

"Sounds like a plan. Well anyways, I gotta make myself some food. I'll text you later." Keith could be heard shuffling around in the background and the noise of drawers was evident.

"Enjoy your food. See ya." Lance hung up the phone and groaned, he had literally nothing to do the whole day. Rolling over a few times in boredom, he decided to pull out the speaker he had and plug his phone in. After changing into some leggings and dance shirt, he pressed play on the music and began to stretch.

Sitting on the floor, he pulled his leg up high and made sure he could feel his hamstrings pulling. After rotating a couple of times he decided to do the splits, putting both legs down he easily slid down and facepalmed once he reached the bottom. Everything was so easy for him now, he needed a challenge.

Pulling on his feet, he leant over and smirked at the tugging feeling in his back. Deciding to push his limits, he pressed his whole body forward, flattening it against the floor which he did with ease. He pulled himself to his feet and stared at the room of the floor, he hadn't enough space to practise so he grabbed his speaker, pulling the plug out of the wall and wrapping it around his arm.

He unlocked the door and waltzed into the kitchen, he hadn't expected anyone to be home and to the sound of it no one was, either that or they were just extremely quiet. Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, he searched around the large house to look for a room big enough to dance in.

After looking in many of the living rooms, he decided on the main one which had a large floor space of which he could easily use. The marble flooring of the centre made it a great place to practise and he smiled, looking round for a place to plug the speaker in once again.

After choosing '1812 Overture - Finale' by Tchaikovsky, Lance made his way into the middle of the circle and set himself in the correct starter position. As the piano set off, Lance was completely still, his mind and body were relaxed as he focused on the chords that pulsed throughout his veins. The music started and rushed and began to increase in volume. Lance almost drifted off into an alternate reality as he danced, with each chord Lance flowed into it and let his body move him. It was almost as if he wasn't controlling himself, his subconscious already knew what to do. The pace of the music was intense, most dancers wouldn't have been able to keep up, but Lance was connected to the music, his whole body and mind seemed to intertwine with the notes and his expression was calm.

-trigger warning-

With all of the stress of the recent events, he hadn't been able to unwind, his Father disapproved of his dancing and called it a 'faggot thing" and would beat him if he caught him dancing or even stretching for that matter. Lance wished for a supportive parent, and he knew his wish would never come true. As Lance began to dive deeper into his mind, his body seemed to connect with the music even more and he could feel himself being overtaken with the urge to dance his heart out. A few tears managed to escape from the corners of his eyes and he blinked them back, wiping them with his hand gracefully as he danced.

As the song began to draw to a close, Lance could feel his heartache fade slightly and fill with a small pang of happiness instead.

As he ended the song in a stance, he finally let out a breath that he'd apparently been holding. A faint clapping could be heard and Lance almost gave himself whiplash from the intensity of his head turn. Mrs Holt was standing in the doorway, arms full with shopping bags. Lance's face flooded with embarrassment as he realised that she must've watched him dance, at-least watched some of it.

"I'm glad you kept dancing. You're.... incredible." Mrs Holt's eyes were filled with wonder and amazement and Lance beamed.

"Thank you." Lance scratched the back of his neck
awkwardly and bent down to pick his phone up out of the speaker. As he held the phone in his hand, he couldn't help but hope, hope that things were getting better.

With his soulmate in his life now, they probably were.