Little Boy Blue

Little Boy Blue

  • WpView
    Leituras 907
  • WpVote
    Votos 55
  • WpPart
    Capítulos 5
WpMetadataReadEm andamento25m
WpMetadataNoticeÚltima atualização ter, dez 24, 2019
Lance, a dancer who puts his heart and soul into what he does. He loves to dance, he always has, ever since he was a toddler. His momma would play Shakira and he'd move his hips as if they really didn't lie. But now, dancing is more of his coping mechanism. His angst and anger all poured into his routines. But dancing never stops the tears from falling down. Keith, your average emo looking high school student. Bunch of piercings, raven hair, fingerless gloves, and not to mention that *cough cough* awful mullet. He's had his fair share of hardships in the past. He's never opened up to anyone about them. Until he finds a boy in a blue jacket who understands what he went through. Why? Because he was there. And he went through the exact same trauma. Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron or any of its characters. I don't own the art, full credit to the artist. I only own the plot.
Todos os Direitos Reservados
#324
coran
WpChevronRight
Junte-se a maior comunidade de histórias do mundoTenha recomendações personalizadas, guarde as suas histórias favoritas na sua biblioteca e comente e vote para expandir a sua comunidade.
Illustration

Talvez você também goste

  • Lance's Funeral
  • My Soulmate
  • New Phase Of Life (Voltron klance AU)
  • You're safe now...(Keitor)
  • Dancing To Our Love // Klance (COMPLETE)
  • I know you better
  • (DISCONTINUED) If Only He Knew (VLD Modern AU)
  • Kangst one-shots
  • 'Unexpected Turn' (Voltron - Klance), by moongirlel ✔️
  • Room 1013

Keith hated himself for liking Lance. His limber build, the way he carried himself with shoulders raised and chin held high. His blue eyes, dark like the sea's deep, inky bottom. His tangled mess of dark brown hair that stood at odd angles, and never seemed to obey Lance's vigorous brushing. His smooth, light brown skin as he crinkled his nose, or batted the sand from his eyes on a particularly windy afternoon. Even his laugh, as loudly obnoxious as it was, Keith adored. And that was the worst part, because, unlike Keith, Lance hated him. With every word he uttered, an argument seemed to arise. Lance constantly joked and poked fun of Keith, determined to one up him in every way imaginable. So, in all retrospect, Keith had every right to detest Lance in return. But that was the thing: he didn't. Even as Lance stood before him on the worst days - face scrunched and reddened, throat hoarse from the shouting - all Keith thought as he stood stone faced, eyes locked on Lance's chattering lips, was: 'wow, I really want to kiss this shit-head.' And then he was both mad at himself and the world. Mad at himself for imagining Lance in ways he shouldn't, and mad at the world for allowing Lance to be in his life in the first place. It was torture. As powerful as a lash to the chest, or a hammer to the kneecap. Especially now, as Keith stood above Lance's cold, unflinching corpse. The dead boy's bony hands crossed over his chest, shoulders squared atop the white, velvet cushion that rested inside the opened coffin. He wore the best suit and tie money could buy, and had his shaven scalp hidden by a head of hair that was similar, but could never match the boy's old image. The image before cancer. The image before hell. The image before Keith's every being crumbled to dust. *** A Klance au in which Keith discovers that him and only him can see Lance's ghost. COVER ART: kuurakuu on Tumblr

Mais detalhes
WpActionLinkDiretrizes de Conteúdo