Shut Up and Dance With Me

Chapter 12: Break the Ice

Summary:

vive la lance: okay so you know in titanic when the boat is going ass side up and that one guy falls and breaks his fucking legs on the propeller then goes into a 360 spin like 15 times before hitting the freezing water face first?
uptown hunk: of course
coo coo motherfuckers: that's my fav part
vive la lance: thats me
vive la lance: thats a metaphor for my life
vive la lance: Im in too deep
vive la lance: Im drowning
vive la lance: titanic take me

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Much like with Lance, Keith is starting to develop a complicated relationship with Altea Dance Studio.

On one hand, it's his safe haven. He feels at home among these halls. He finds comfort in the familiar sights, smells, sounds. This studio introduced him to dancing. It helped him through a rough spot in his life. Taught him a new way to express himself, to let it out, to destress, to relax. It gave him a purpose that he never thought he'd have, but cherishes nonetheless.

This studio is where his brother's heart is, his stability, his center. This studio is where Allura's legacy is, her spirit practically radiating from the very foundation. This studio is where he reconnected with old friends and made new ones. This studio is where he found a new family.

This studio is where he found Lance.

He's always been happy to be at the studio because the studio has always been where he comes to escape his problems, to be himself, to do the things he wants to do. The studio has always been where everything makes sense.

Now, however, nothing makes sense anymore.

Here and now, walking through these halls, his chest feels tight. His palms feel sweaty beneath his gloves, and his fingers are twitching, tapping and rubbing fingers to thumb. The hand holding the strap of his bag drums idly rhythms, rushed and incoherent. His steps are heavy, like his body is made of lead as he drags himself up the stairs. He knows, logically, that his movements are no less fluid than they usually are, but he feels stiff. Like his mind and awareness aren't quite connected to his body.

Walking through the doors of Altea, seeing the familiar worn hardwood floors reflecting the florescent lights, smelling the vaguely citrus smell of whatever cleaner Coran uses, hearing the muffled sounds of music practically pulsing through the walls. It used to all put him at ease, center him, clear his headspace.

Now his headspace has never been more cluttered, and it's leaking out into his chest. Making his heart pound restlessly, tightening and clenching as he thinks about his practice room, as he subconsciously listens specifically for Lance's voice, as he imagines that smile, that voice.

And no matter how much he thinks about it, prepares for it, seeing him always blindsides Keith. Hits him like a truck to the chest. Leaves him out of breath and momentarily flat lining until Lance does something else that jolts life back through his veins.

It's dizzying. It's exhilarating. It's nauseating. It makes him feel light and warm, and it makes him feel heavy and leaden.

He used to look forward to coming to Altea Dance Studios, and he still does, but his reasons have shifted somewhat, and he hasn't gotten used to it. Hasn't gotten used to the way his body reacts to Lance now. Isn't sure he wants to get used to it. But it bothers him all the same.

Makes him feel anxious, worried, nervous, anticipation turning sour in his gut whenever he pulls up to the parking lot and walks through those doors, climbs these familiar steps.