Lavenders Blue ❦

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟChapter Five; Garden Trespasser

'He wants to take Lance's hand at the ball, and dance with him until their toe-tips burn. He wants to see Lance feeling like a million dollars, all dolled up in a suit picked just for him. He wants to see his Mother give him a nod of approval, and grant him with a pass to tradition so that he can be happy. With Lance.

After only meeting Lance yesterday, Keith can already see their future together. That's just how far gone he is.

And Lance? Lance doesn't even know it yet.'

✧

The suit was not safe with Lance, he needed it hidden well. After tucking it away discretely under the floorboards of his attic room, he scurries away with jolts of joy in his nerves, fizzing like champagne bubbles down to his bones. Did a man he met two days ago really have him this jittery? Yes, yes he did, and yet Lance didn't feel more than a few concerns about the whole ordeal. It worried him.

With his step-family's suits and gown in hand, he tip-toed down the stairs to deliver them. Every time he sought out praise from them, he always left feeling bitter and disappointed. But a spark of hope, one that would probably be stomped out, was left anyway.

"Haggar." He says, feeling a familiar wave of unease crash into him the second he opened her door. "Your ball outfits have been cleaned. Not a trace of flour left." He says, holding the textiles out for inspection. The woman stands up, and Lance feels like throwing those contents in the air and running for his life. A clay mask that reeks of turned milk was plastered over her aged face, but it had hardened and filled the cracks in her visage. Her hands reached out to caress her gown, then her eyes see the appearance of a dress that looks brand new.

"It certainly took you long enough. See to it that this time they stay spotless until the ball. We're only nineteen days away, you know."

With a small, sharp nod, Lance retreats from the beauty parlor and hangs the clothes in a clean closet upstairs. He then lifted a piece of parchment from his pocket, a list of his chores that Haggar had written down for him. Convenient, and appreciated as well.

Her penmanship look like she was pressing so hard that the quill-tip most likely bent to a point of snapping. It was rushed and disgustingly splotchy, but he managed to make it out just fine; 'Clean the bathrooms, scrub the dirty dishes, make dinner (keep hot), trim rose bushes'

While it would require hard work, as it always does, today would call for less hours than usual. Lance smiles at that. So many things in his life are going great today, so many pieces he didn't even know about are snapping into place as they never have.

For the first time in many years, Lance feels as if he has worth. Be it the worth of one beautiful suit, fine. He has value in the eyes of a very determined stranger, or Keith's sympathy, at least. He'll take either at this point. No matter how short and sweet the feeling of either may last, Lance will embrace it happily. It's something to hold on to, and compared to years of absolute nothing, he'll grasp for dear life.

And to add, Lance's step-family had always hoped to have someone, anyone, fall in love with them in one sitting. If that's somehow possible, why can't Lance feel lightly flustered like that overnight and in a few sitting thoughts?

Lance smiled that day. For the first time in too long, he smiled and he let it remain, even if it meant his siblings would question him, or his step-mother would sentence him to more labor or lashings upon his busted back, though he doubted it. As long as the visions of blue silk and long, dark hair danced in his head, he would be happy.

And so Lance smiled that day, and he didn't stop it for anyone. He smiled as he scrubbed the marble toilets, he smiled as his forearms were submerged in dirty, brown dishwater. He smiled as stove-hot grease popped and burned his working hands, and he smiled as he carried garden tweezers and pails for the well out to the rose bushes.