Dying (A Langst: Voltron)

Feelings

What would their reactions be to my death? I may have died before but do they know I died?

I still don't know. Why?

Am I afraid to ask? But then again, why would I be afraid to ask if they knew I had died?

Now I remember: They would probably either not give a glance, ask questions, send me to a therapist or just call me a liar. Like I didn't die, like I never died before and even if I did, who cares?

It was just death.

Nothing special about that. Who cares if someone dies, right?

But really, would I feel anything if someone were to die in front of me? I guess it would depend on who it was or if I knew them.

I feel nothing half the time so would I feel anything then?

Do I even have these 'feelings'?

What are feelings?

I don't know.

Would dying feel as great as it did the first time? Would dying more than once affect that  feeling?

What can I do to get that feeling again?

Could cutting give you that pleasure?

Could that be what I can try?

Dying needs to be treasured, if the feeling it brings is like that.

If cutting is what I need to get that feeling, then I'll do it.

That feeling can't be described.

It can't be labeled by simple words like 'amazing' 'pleasuring'.

I'll do whatever it takes to get that feeling again.

Cutting might seem like amateur work compared to dying.

But both at the same time-

What feeling would that bring?!

W-

Lance heard a knock at his door but ignored it.

Would they notice my cutting?

Would they care?

Would they ask questions?

If they did I would have to say another lie. That's easy.

Lying is my life in one word.

Can pleasure be gotten by cutting into the soft flesh and leaving a mark?

Would they give me what I crave?

What about an alternative if it doesn't go well?

Alcohol?

Drugs?

But would drugs give me the pleasure I want?

Alcohol could help me forget. Yes, alcohol will be in there too.

Cutting and alcohol.

Dying and cutting.

Alcohol and dying.

Alcohol, dying and cutting.

Dying, alcohol and cutting.

Cutting, dying and alcohol.

Cutting, alcohol and dying.

Alcohol, cutting and dying.

Dying-

Another knock.

Knock, knock, knock.

Knock, knock, knock-

Lance sighed and put his notebook away once again, in trade for his phone and earbuds.

"Come in." He said just as he picked a song and laid back in a relaxed gesture on his bed, like he hadn't a care in he world.

It was Shiro.

"Hey, Lance."

He gave a wave.

"That last mission, you messed up big time-" 

Lance tries to drown out his lectures, insults, the truth- Or ignore him.

Shiro doesn't want anyone to know of him yelling at Lance. He wants Lance to listen to what he has to say and not ignore him.

"Lance."

Lance winces involuntarily.

"Are you listening?"

Lance nods.

"Look me in the eyes and tell me you are."

Lance doesn't want to- he really doesn't want to.

But he has no choice. He doesn't want what happened last time to happen again. Another reason why he so desperately wants to die, to feel that pleasure-

"I'm waiting."

Lance looks up with a straight face, nothing bothers him. He looks him in the eye. "I am listening." Robot, people would think he was some kind of robot with how he said that.

Shiro smirks. "That's right, you listen, you obey and you do not do what I don't tell you. That's good."

Lance knows this. He knows it very well.

Anything Shiro tells him to do, he does. He obeys, he listens and he always does what Shiro wants or tells him to. He was Shiro's dog and nothing could change that.