Premium Seats [Klance] ✅

15 - Red and Blue

A/N
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LANCE

"Pa?"

Mr McClain looked up from his desk, where he was currently in the middle of attaching spare parts of an airplane model. A guide book lay open under the work lamp, one if its pages showing a fully finished picture of the model while the other was completely obscured by a mass of spare parts. "Yes, mijo?"

Momentarily forgetting about why he was here, Lance shuffled awkwardly at the doorway, vacillating. He'd run Adam's advice over and over in his head since yesterday, each time sprouting with different scenarios of conversation he might have with his dad. None of which, unfortunately, ended well on his outlook. It had taken a lot of reasonings – and endless bickerings in his head that had almost waged a war against reality – until he resolved to man up and talk to his dad. Straight up. Unscripted.

"I – can we talk?"

The serene expression on his dad's face morphed into one of sudden wariness, frightening Lance to an extent. "What happened?" he asked in a steely tone. "Did something happen at—"

"No, things are fine!" Lance said hastily. "I just wanna talk about, you know, the flight scheme ..."

At once, his dad's shoulders relaxed. "Well, come in, Lance," he motioned him inside, clicking off his work lamp – meaning he was making a time to talk to his youngest son. Lance warmed at this. "You look like a stranger standing there."

Lance entered. He took a seat at a plush armchair near a bookcase.

"How are things progressing?" his dad asked, surveying him intently.

"Mr Wright says I fly well," Lance responded with a modest shrug. "Not the best, but average."

His dad nodded slowly. "Okay, so what do you wanna talk about?"

Lance heaved a deep sigh. "My basketball trainings might clash with my flight schedules,"

Already his dad was delivering that look like he couldn't careless about something that didn't appear as noteworthy to him. Lance's heart ached a bit. "I'm sure you can re-schedule your basketball sessions?"

This is not where I'm hoping this conversation would go. "We're gonna have our first match in two months – less, actually,"

"I see ..."

"No, wait – Pa, I wanna talk about ... something else,"

His dad tilted his head aside a little. "I already gave you the sex talk when you were dating Nyma two years ago,"

Lance's eyes expanded to the size of golf balls. "Wha— no, not that – I'm single!" he said. "We broke up last year."

"You experimenting with pot?"

"No," Lance groaned. I'm a good boy – I would never! When his dad motioned for him to proceed, he inhaled. "Serious question; what if, one day, I'm offered a scholarship by the basketball league? And the air force also offers me a scholarship?"

"Well, you'd choose the one that gurantees you a good life, of course,"

Lance wasn't sure what to dig out of that answer. "Which is what?"

"Personally, the air force would," said his dad pensively. "If you think about it – just compare being a fighter pilot to being a basketball player – which one is more professional?"

Mind going blank, Lance was left to frown. Should he go with the answer from his heart, or from his dad's? When his dad phrased it like that, he made it sound like playing basketball for a lifetime wouldn't promise you a prosperous life. He wished the answer lay in a pallete of choices instead of swimming in a vast spectrum. "I – don't know?"