Excerpt - Chapter Seven “Sorry”

by Jirina Linnea

     The scent of brine in the air was so familiar.

     He felt the same cool breeze sweeping in from beyond the horizon, the recognizable cold grip of the ocean waves as they pulled at his ankles, the old feeling of sinking into the sand – deeper and deeper until he might be swallowed up.

     Lance hated that he was numb to these familiar things, because these were the memories of home.

     He had been looking forward so much to his first visit to his childhood home and the beach he had grown up on. He had spent all that time with Voltron fighting someone else’s war, hoping beyond hope that it would all still be there when he returned.

     But he looked up at the night sky, now, and all he could see was a universe that had taken away someone he loved.

     It had all happened so fast – one minute she was there, and the next she had vanished from existence.

     One minute she was standing right in front of him, and the next she was gone… floating away to become part of something cosmic and universe-altering the Lance couldn’t understand.

     The thoughts ran rampant through his brain, tumbling over one another – each one screaming louder than the one before:

You were not enough.

She never loved you.

She never even cared about you.

No one ever will.

You let her die.

You’re always going to be alone.

     The thoughts drove Lance’s feet to move. He stepped robotically forward, only vaguely aware of the water now surging around his knees.

You could just float away, too. No one would know. No one would miss you. No one would –

     Someone shouting his name snapped Lance back to reality a moment before a hand was grabbing him harshly by the wrist. He was dragged backwards and tackled onto the damp sand at the water’s edge.

     Keith’s eyes were wide and slightly frantic as he hovered over Lance – hands bracing himself on either side of Lance’s head, legs straddling Lance’s hips.

     “What are you doing?” Lance’s voice was hoarse.

     “What are you doing?” came the demand from above. “You were walking out into the ocean!”

     Anger reared its head, sudden and fierce. Lance gave a wordless growl, pushing against Keith’s chest, trying to shove him off. Keith caught his wrists and rolled, dragging Lance with him.

     Lance gave an indignant yelp as he found himself in the same exact position as before – except now he was covered in sand, and Keith was pinning him down with a tight hold around his wrists.

     “Get the fuck off me!” Lance spat. “What are you even doing here?”

Do you even care?

     “I came to check on you!” Keith snapped back. His eyes flashed in the moonlight, fierce and determined. “And it’s a good thing I did because what the fuck, Lance?”

     “I wasn’t gonna drown myself – don’t be a moron!”

     “You’re the moron! If you weren’t gonna just walk into the ocean and let yourself float away then tell me…tell me what you were actually doing.”

     It had sounded so appealing and Lance hated that Keith had hit the nail on the head.

Just let go and float away. Just like Allura did… Vanish from the world, never to be seen again.

     Not to die…just to disappear.

     He growled, teeth bared as he struggled against Keith’s grip on his arms. “What does it matter? Just leave me alone!”

Do you actually care?

     “What does it matter?” Keith was shouting at him, now. “Because as far as I can see, I just saved your life. We already lost Allura, don’t make us –“

     “Don’t you say her fucking name!” Lance didn’t know if he’d ever been this angry in his life. “You never even really liked her. I bet you’re glad she’s gone!” He knew it wasn’t true – and that’s why he said it, because he knew it was going to hurt. He wanted it to hurt. He wanted someone to hurt as much as he did in that moment.

     His words had the desired effect on Keith. His face twisting in mortification as his grip slackened just enough for Lance to free his wrists and shove him away.

     Their bodies twisted in the sand, rolling again – and Lance found himself on top of Keith, his knees pressed against Keith’s waist, one hand fisted in Keith’s teeshirt.

     Somewhere within his heart, he knew he needed this fight to keep going. He needed to yell and hit something. He needed this to escalate so he could get all of his agony and heartbreak out in a burst of aggression.

     But Keith did not give him that.

     He stared up at Lance with wide, grief-stricken eyes, his hair splayed out around his head on the damp sand.

     “You can hit me. It’s okay.”

     Lance reeled back, sitting up on his heels as he stared down at his friend lying beneath him.

     “It’s okay,” Keith repeated, and his voice was too understanding; his expression too crestfallen. “Whatever you need, I’m your guy.”

     Lance’s fist clenched at his side, and he saw Keith’s eyes drop to pick up the movement. His gaze swiveled back up to Lance’s face, his eyes giving Lance permission – telling him he understood. Telling him it was okay.

     If they had kept fighting, he may have accidentally swung at Keith and then immediately regretted it. But there was no way he could raise his fist when Keith was looking at him like that.

     Lance ground his teeth together.

     The desire to yell and fight and hit something was fading, and with it, his strength to hold himself up.

     Releasing his grip on Keith’s shirt, he smoothed out the wrinkles before letting his body fall forward, catching himself on his hands in the sand by Keith’s head.

    His face hung over Keith’s, but his eyes were squeezed shut so he couldn’t see his friend’s expression. He only heard and felt the soft, shaky release of breath against his cheek, and he understood that Keith had really been prepared to take a punch from him just now.

     “It doesn’t matter what I do.” Lance was too tired and too emotional to hold back his words anymore. “I did everything I could to make her happy, but it was never enough. I’m never going to be enough, so why should I bother? I don’t know if she even cared about me at all.”

     “She did care about you.” Keith’s voice was just audible over the crash of the waves behind them. “I know she did.”

     “You can’t know that for sure.”

     “Hey…hey, Lance? Yes I can. Do you know why?”

     Lance felt soft fingers on his chin, tilting his head – and then he was staring into Keith’s eyes, only inches away.

     “Why?”

     “Because you’re you. It’s impossible for anyone not to care about you.”

     “Fuck off.” It wasn’t mean, just disbelieving.

     “I care about you. Isn’t that proof enough?”

     Lance’s eyes caught and held Keith’s. He wasn’t sure if it was hard to breathe because they had fought or if it was because of some other reason entirely… Their proximity to each other. The softness of Keith’s voice. The moonlight reflecting in his eyes. His fingers that still lingered on Lance’s chin.

I care about you.

     “We all care about you. We need you, Lance. You have no idea how important you are to us.”

     Lance stared at him, unable to break their eye contact.

     Finally he breathed out, “You said earlier that whatever I needed, you’re my guy, right?”

     “Yeah.”

     “I know you’re not a touchy person, but…I could really use a hug right now.”

     Keith stared at him for a second longer, and then he was reaching up – his arms snaking around Lance’s shoulders. He pulled Lance down on top of him, their chests pressed together and Lance’s face stuffed in the crook of his neck.

     Lance had had a brief moment of wishing it was Hunk with him instead of Keith. Hunk gave the best hugs, and Keith had always seemed a little hesitant – like he was expecting the other person to pull away at any second; like he didn’t want to linger too long and ruin something.

     But this was different.

     Lance felt himself melting in Keith’s embrace. He felt Keith’s arms squeezing snugly around his torso. He felt one of Keith’s hands running up and down the length of his spine. He felt Keith’s heartbeat matching his own.

     This was the kind of hug that conveyed a message, and Lance felt his eyes sting a little as he understood.

I’ve got you.

I care about you.

I’m not going to let you float away.

     “You’re my guy, Keith?” Lance didn’t know why he whispered those words. The moment he said them, he wanted to take them back because it suddenly felt too intimate.

     But Keith answered simply, his hand never stopping on its path along Lance’s back. “I’m your guy. Whatever you need, I’ll be here for you. Just please – God, please don’t give up on yourself, okay?”

     It should have been awkward, but it wasn’t.

     Lance was literally lying on top of Keith in the sand, his face buried in Keith’s neck. He should have felt uncomfortable. He should have wanted to move away.

     “If I get too close to the edge,” he whispered instead. “Will you pull me back?”

     Keith’s hand stilled for a moment, then – only to trail upwards. Lance closed his eyes as he felt Keith’s fingers comb gently through his hair. “Of course I will.”

     Lance kept his eyes closed, letting go for just a moment.

     He let the sound of the waves and the gentle ocean breeze soothe the anguish in his mind.

     He let the echo of Keith’s words comfort the pain in his heart.

     He let the warmth of Keith’s fingers in his hair lull him into a state of calm and stillness.

     And he understood – if only for a second – that he wasn’t alone.

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