Lavenders Blue ❦

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟChapter Nine; Chaotic Day

Ten Days Left Until the Ball

Keith, as he's been taught, holds the door open for Lance when they reach the tailor. He feels a sense of confidence in doing so, with the thought that he's never done it for anyone before, and that everyone had always done it for him. Keith likes opening doors, he's decided.

"Lance," The girl at the counter grins, delighted by Lance's presence. "It's been so long! How long has it been?"

"Many months. I've heard you're about to become a Mrs. Shay Garrett." Lance teases, his eyes drifting gracefully at the ball gowns that line the back wall, waiting to be picked up and shown off by the eligible ladies of Marmora (and most likely some visitors from other kingdoms too, he hopes for Altean guests if he attends.)

"You have heard correctly." She says with the biggest smile, taking a second to look at the silver band on her left hand's ring finger. "What have you been up to?"

"The usual." Keith watches Lance sigh, and it seems that everyone in the room knows of what that means. Work, more work, and working some more for a step-family that doesn't even return a millionth of what he puts into them.

"Then allow me to make today a fun day! What can I do for you?" Shay brightens up her previous smile, leaning on her elbows with her hands cupping her bright cheeks. Lance looks to Keith, because he doesn't really know the answer to that question.

"Do you have anything already made?"

Shay exhales, her words a cookie cutter: "All of our formal attire is sold-"

"Casual." Says Keith. "Lance could use a few more day-to-day things, per say, and urgently if you will. Something functional." He places his hand on Lance's shoulder, oddly causing Lance to jump slightly, breathing in deeply.

Lance's discomfort is going off the charts, embarrassed and flustered at the same time. He's never been 'treated' before, and he feels like a burden. He doesn't want to be 'spoiled', which is an entirely different deal (maybe, he isn't quite sure), and he doesn't know how to define the category of the current events.

"Is something wrong?" Keith asks, keeping the hand ever so gently on his shoulder. "Lance?"

There's a tear growing in his eye, soft and almost unnoticeable, yet it fades too quickly to fall. Lance always makes sure they don't fall. Why is there a tear anyway? Lance doesn't have an answer for that either.

Lance feels pathetic, for falling apart so quickly after so many years of being able to keep it together. Then one day, this stranger with a talent for making him swoon and sway comes along and he just collapses. Keith makes him feel this way, and treats him like he deserves to feel these sort of ways. Lance isn't sad, he's grateful, and he can't help but be overwhelmed by the new, distant emotion.

"I'm sorry," He mutters politely, turning his head, hiding from the shame of being vulnerable. "This is unusual for me, is all. I am more than alright."

Keith nods, not in full understanding, but with the will to understand.

"We may have some things to your liking in the back." Shay says quietly, as if not to disturb the peace. "I'm not really supposed to let you back here, so don't tell anyone. Also, Miss Balmera is working, so do not disrupt her methods and remain respectful, please."

Lance nods, already walking quietly with Keith to follow him as he follows Shay behind the counter and past the thick bourbon curtains. Shay acts like everything is normal, like it isn't odd to see more clothes than any closet shall hold in all of existence. It's like walking into a childhood-embracing wonderland of luxurious heaps of fabric.