Premium Seats [Klance] ✅

38 - Troubled and Trouble

A/N
It gets better, y'all I promise

LANCE

Being an idiot was no surprise to Lance, but even this inner, more judicious side of him hadn't expected him to stoop this low. And because of his puerile, tactless words fired at Keith, the two of them were now not on speaking terms.

A week had passed since their dispute; since Lance was grounded; since things fell apart, to sum it all up. Keith barely showed up to school, and though Lance could sense that he might be the reason behind the boy's frequent absences, he thought there might be more underlying issues to it. But if the former was the only sole reason, he couldn't entirely blame Keith. It would be highly hypocritical of him to regard Keith as childish, not when Lance himself had behaved like a prick.

He hadn't stopped beating himself up over it. Stupid stupid stupid. Phone calls were immediately switched to voicemails; texts were unread; his attempts to approach Keith at school (on the rare days the boy showed up) rolled down the hill. On some days, Lance gave up entirely. This tension didn't go unnoticed by either Hunk or Pidge, however, both of whom always cast him concerned glances whenever they saw Keith dart out of sight. Though, neither of them dared to bring it up. Not yet anyway.

It didn't help either that Lance couldn't seem to find a distraction to draw him out of his stifling misery, considering his only form of escape had been restricted to him by his dad. Revising and finishing his homework didn't count. All in all, he was imprisoned in his own realm.

As of such, Lance drummed his fingers on his desk, tapping his head with his pen, eyes itching. The sentences that made up the maths problem stared smugly at him from his textbook, refusing to fuse themselves into a coherent question. Stuck in his bedroom and trying to finish his homework wasn't his ideal way of spending his Friday afternoon. Normally he'd still be at Atlas High's basketball court, releasing his stress; or spending his time hanging out at Hunk's place, since the boy lived a few blocks away; or simply dropping by Keith's.

But obviously, he was grounded.

"I give up," Lance muttered to himself, pushing his chair back and getting to his feet. He glared at his homework with an acute loathing, as though by doing that he'd be able to prompt his pen to move on its own.

He went downstairs to get some snacks, but on the last landing he came face-to-face with his dad. There was a prolonged beat where it seemed as though time had rewound itself.

But before his dad could open his mouth, Lance headed back upstairs – appetite be damned.

He could feel it coiling in his stomach; the bemused temper; the pique; the urge to cry. His emotions had been on a roll like that for days on end, and Lance sure felt like the sun had stopped shining.

Maybe I deserve it.

Lance plopped down on his bed once he returned, giving it a few seconds before grabbing his phone from the bedside table. Ever since he told the team that he wouldn't be attending practices and matches (much to everyone's chagrin), he had been too frightened to check his phone – not when Kolivan had harangued him for the rest of lunch break last week. So far he'd only received a few sympathetic messages from Shay and Ryan. Otherwise the group chat went on as though one of their best players hadn't just been banned from playing.

But no-one had sent him anything, and Lance wasn't surprised. After all, the Atlas team was currently holding a friendly match with a neighbouring high school. It was the only thing that everyone talked about earlier on – something that he had very much tried to avoid, though to no avail. Driving home from school while everyone else were heading into the court and filling the bleachers had been gut-wrenching indeed, especially the questions hurled in his way from fellow classmates who had no idea of his current predicament. Even he noticed that Keith's motorbike was still in the parking lot.