Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was nearing two in the morning when Lance’s phone lit up with a notification. Looking up from his guitar, he checked the name, and almost felt embarrassed by the smile that immediately appeared on his face.

From: mullet ❤️

[1:58 am] are you up?

Lance glanced at the time and frowned. His immediate reaction was to chide Keith for staying up later than his counselor recommended, but, as he was also up, he was sure that that would quickly backfire on him.

[2:00 am] bold of u to assume i ever sleep

[2:00 am] you fell asleep during chemistry yesterday

[2:00 am] you got me there!!!!

[2:01 am] lmao

[2:01 am] anyway

[2:02 am] i was playing around with some lyrics and a tune, do you wanna see?

The question made Lance’s heart skip a beat. Setting his guitar aside, he leaned back into his pillows, propping an ankle up on his opposite knee and grabbing his earphones.

It wasn’t often that Keith sent him videos of him singing, and Lance made sure to cherish every single time that he did. Unknown to Keith, Lance had saved all the previous ones he had sent, keeping them in a folder titled Keef. This folder is explicitly Lance eyes only, and if Keith ever found it Lance would jump on the first flight to Pleasekillmeville.

[2:05 am] uh,, duh?? send it over!!

[2:05 am] ok!

[2:06 am] {VIDEO}

Without having to click on the video, Lance was able to see from the teaser image that Keith was wearing one of his baggy tank tops that he only wore to bed. Like, baggy enough that it covered barely anything. He sat hunched over with a paper in his hands, the out-of-view wall lamp lighting up his form, and his hair pulled back into a ponytail.

Clicking on it, the image immediately filled up Lance’s phone screen, and he could more clearly see Keith’s subtle muscles, the shine of his lips, his long lashes. The tiled floor gave off a faint shimmer from the wall light, which also sent shadows across Keith’s skin and made his eyes gleam. Behind him, a drawing he had made when he was a kid was hung up on the wall.

This is fine. Completely and utterly fine. It wasn’t like Lance was two seconds away from having a heart attack. Everything’s good.

It wasn’t until he pressed play when he undoubtedly decided that everything was not fine. Not fine at all. He might have to cash in to Pleasekillmeville early.

Keith sounded heavenly.

The moment his mouth opened and the song began, Lance’s breath caught in his throat and his heart seemed to come to a complete stop. As cliché as it sounded, Keith had the voice of an actual angel. Of course, this wasn’t news to Lance, he’s heard him sing a million times, but every time he listened to him he still wasn’t more used to it than the previous one.

Keith was sitting on his bathroom floor, as he liked how the room made his voice echo. For the most part he was still, but every so often he would tilt his head back on the higher notes and lean a smidge forward on the low ones. Even with the sheet in front of him, his eyes were closed, already knowing the lyrics by heart. Lance bit his lip in an attempt to hold back his smile. Of course Keith knew the lyrics already.

It was a love song. Lance felt himself swallow as his senses were overloaded with both the image of Keith and the sound of his voice. It was rare whenever Keith wrote a love song as every time that he did, it was because Lance had asked. Those requests always unfolded into a peppy tune with an addictive beat and funny lyrics, lyrics that always made Lance giggle when he heard them.

This love song was different. Keith sang of longing and heartache, of hating them when they’re gone and missing them when they’re there. He sang of wishful dreams and silly fantasies, of holding their hand and kissing their lips. His eyes were still closed, his brows furrowed, and he swayed back and forth, back and forth. The sheet in his hands trembled until, eventually, he set it down.

Lance couldn’t breathe. It was like he was ten feet under water, helplessly grasping at the surface to find air. Putting a hand to his chest, he felt the rapid fire thump thump thump of his heart.

Keith was literally killing him.

And he didn’t even realize.

Way too soon, Keith jerked to a sudden halt, his voice cutting off mid-sentence, almost as if a spell had been broken. He blinked, then ran a hand through his bangs. Lance couldn’t help but notice that Keith’s cheeks were flushed, but from what, Lance didn’t know.

The song was over. At least, what Keith had written so far was over. Pushing away the sheet, he leaned forward, and Lance quickly averted his gaze to his face. Keith never said anything before ending his videos. He sang, he finished, done. Lance wished he could at least smile. He loved his smile.

As Keith reached out to stop the recording, Lance stared at his face, memorizing every line, every curve, every mark. His bangs framed his face beautifully, his eyes nearly shielded from view. Lance wasn’t ashamed to admit to himself that Keith was just as breathtaking as his singing. Of course, the only audience to that way of thinking was Lance himself (and he preferred to keep it that way).

There was about four seconds left of the video when Keith looked up.

Lance froze. Keith must have been staring straight into the camera, as their eyes locked perfectly. His mouth was parted slightly, his cheeks were still flushed, and his eyes held a strange gleam. For a second, it was almost as if it was happening in real time, like a FaceTime call, or Skype. Lance’s breathing stuttered before he whispered, “Keith…”

As if he heard him, Keith’s eyes widened, looking like he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. The next second, the video ended, the “play” symbol covering his face. His perfect, beautiful, dumb face.

Lance continued to stare at the screen, even as it faded in warning of turning off. He felt his heart through his shirt, how it was still pounding, and how his ears still rang with the echoing notes of Keith’s voice. His perfect, beautiful, dumb voice.

Keith never looked up. He never acknowledged his phone unless he was stopping the recording. Not once in all the videos he’s sent Lance has he ever so much as glanced at the camera, or even his own image on the screen. It was just him, his voice, and the stop button.

Why did he look up in this one? The one that’s a love song.

Oh, god, Lance thought as the realization fully hit him. Keith wrote a love song.

And Lance had never asked for it. He wrote one on his own accord, it possibly being about someone.

The mere thought of Keith writing a love song about some guy stabbed Lance’s heart with a million razor sharp needles. For a good five seconds, he forgot how to breathe.

Breathe. Breathe, Lance.

God, he was totally gone, wasn’t he?

[2:12 am] so um

[2:12 am] how is it?

Shit. Right. Keith was waiting for his opinion. How long had he just been sitting there, staring at Keith’s face?

Opening the text box, Lance’s fingers hovered over the keys. He swallowed, his mind scrambling for something to say. It’s good. It’s great. It’s amazing.

You’re amazing.

Just say something, Lance!

“Fuck…” he whispered.

Keith wrote a love song.

“Fuck…”

[2:16 am] holy shit keith

[2:16 am] stop being so amazing at literally everything

[2:16 am] keith, it’s beautiful. seriously

[2:17 am] the lyrics are okay?

[2:17 am] “okay”

[2:17 am] they were fucking breathtaking

[2:18 am] thank you, lance

[2:19 am] np mullet <3

[2:19 am] sooooooo,,, anyone in particular this is about??

[2:19 am] *eye emoji*

[2:22 am] um

[2:24 am] well

[2:24 am] yes

Yes.

Closing his eyes, Lance rolled onto his side, the edges of his phone digging into his palm as he gripped it.

Keith was in love with someone.

That’s fine. He’s okay. He’s happy, actually. Happy for Keith. He deserves this happiness, considering everything else in his life. Lance could live. He could live with that.

He could live with seeing Keith happy with someone, even if that someone wasn’t him.

He’s okay. I’m okay.

[2:27 am] oh???

[2:27 am] care to explain??

[2:29 am] um

[2:30 am] he’s cute

[2:32 am] ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

[2:32 am] i need MORE, keith!!!!

No more. No more. God, already he feels like he’s choking.

[2:33 am] what is this, middle school??

[2:34 am] fuk u i’m excited

[2:34 am] my baby’s all grown up!!!

[2:35 am] so proud :’D

His chest hurts.

[2:37 am] um

[2:38 am] i guess

[2:38 am] he doesn’t feel the same, though

[2:39 am] whaaaat?? impossible

[2:39 am] how r u so sure?

[2:41 am] i just know.

[2:41 am] goodnight, lance.

[2:42 am] …

[2:42 am] are you okay, keith?

[2:42 am] i’m sorry for prying, i won’t do it anymore

[2:47 am] keith??

[2:53 am] goodnight, keith <3

Lance’s eyes were crusty from dried tears when he woke up four hours later.

He had fallen asleep with his phone in his hand.

After the school day ended, Lance found himself in the music room. He sat on the bottom step of the bleachers, guitar in hand, testing out different notes. He had a single earbud in as he replayed Keith’s video, eyes closed as he listened to the lyrics. Scattered around the room were music stands and school owned instruments, and a handful of chairs that had been messily stacked together to make more space. The room was barely able to fit the bleachers in their entirety. Sunlight filtered in through the windows, putting the room in a soft glow. Outside, he could hear the lacrosse team laughing as they made their way to practice, the faint sounds of tires squealing on the pavement as cars pulled out, the singing lyrics of birds.

There was a very real possibility that Keith would trash this song. He usually did if he deemed them too personal.

“They’re my own thoughts and feelings,” he had said when Lance questioned him. “They don’t need to know those. Not all of them.”

Keith was probably in his car by now, taking the shortcut through the park that led him to the apartment he shared with his brother. Lance had a theory it was because he liked to see all the dogs people would bring. Keith didn’t deny it when he accused him.

A smile crept onto Lance’s face as he recalled the first conversation he had with Keith. It was sixth grade, nearly November, when Lance had finally mustered up the courage to approach the new kid after almost two months of watching him from a distance.

The boy sat at his desk, his head bowed, scribbling something into his notebook. The teacher had let the kids work with whoever they desired, and the rest of the class was a disorganized mess. Lance was halfway through the assigned packet when he glanced over his shoulder and realized the new kid hadn’t moved from his seat. No one had went to him, either.

Biting his lip, Lance ignored the tingling in his stomach to send his friend, Hunk, an apologetic smile. “I’ll be right back, bud. Think you can survive without me for a bit?”

Hunk stuck out his bottom lip, already on the packet’s last page. “You’re leaving me?”

“Not for long, babe. Love you!” Lance sang, giving him a dramatic air kiss. Hunk rolled his eyes affectionately before going back to his work. Standing up and grabbing his packet, Lance sent a look to the teacher before spinning on his heel and making his way towards Keith.

Despite being an apparent “Straight A Student”, Keith hadn’t even touched the packet. He was doodling something in his notebook (sketchbook? Kogane can draw?), swinging his feet, the world around him completely tuned out. His hair was long and ragged, and his jacket was two sizes too big.

Whoa, is that a leather jacket? Lance thought, cocking his head as he got closer. It’s a biker jacket. Kogane’s wearing a biker jacket! When did he get that?

“Hey, Keith!” Lance called as he got closer. Keith visibly flinched before he covered whatever he was scribbling, turning to look up at Lance warily. Lance sent him a soft smile. “Sick jacket, dude.”

Keith’s eyes narrowed in confusion, his gaze sharpening into a glare. “What?”

“Cool jacket,” Lance said, gesturing towards it. He saw Keith’s eyes track the movement. “I like it.”

“Oh.” Keith’s shoulders lost some of their tenseness, but he still sat somewhat rigidly. “Thanks.” He turned back to his notebook, seemingly done with the conversation.

Refusing to be put off by it, Lance shifted a little bit closer, trying to see what Keith was doodling. His hand was blocking most of it, but Lance was able to catch what looked to be a tail. Some kind of animal, maybe?

“Whatcha drawing?” he asked, putting his hands behind his back. Keith looked at him warily again, but it wasn’t as hostile as before.

“My new puppy,” he said. Lance’s eyes shot open wide.

“You got a new puppy?” he cried, unable to hold back his excitement. “Oh my god, what’s its name?”

Keith looked down at his desk. He fiddled with his pencil before raising his hand to twirl his hair around his finger instead. “His name is Kosmo.”

“Kosmo,” Lance cooed. “Aw, he sounds like a very good boy.”

“He’s not,” Keith corrected, still staring at his desk. “He’s still a puppy, so he’s not trained yet. He pees and poops in the house, and chews on things. He’s a bad boy.”

The way Keith had said it so seriously made Lance giggle. Keith looked up then, narrowing his eyes. “What?”

“Bad boy,” Lance chortled. “A bad, naughty boy. Santa’s getting him coal for Christmas.”

“Santa doesn’t exist,” Keith said.  Lance grinned at him, then leaned forward and winked at him mischievously.

“Kosmo doesn’t know that,” he stage-whispered.

Keith stared at him with a peculiar expression, and for a moment Lance could’ve sworn he saw the ghost of a smile.

“Kosmo‘s a dog,” Keith said, dropping his hand from his hair. “He’s never heard of Santa.”

Lance opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the teacher at the front of the room. “Mr. McClain, are you doing your work?” he asked, staring at Lance sternly over the rims of his glasses.

Startled by the classroom’s attention suddenly on him, Lance blushed and fumbled. “I, um…” Kids had turned around in their seats to stare at him, and heat rose up the back of his neck and ears. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hunk hide his face in his hands, something he very much would like to do himself.

The teacher raised an eyebrow, and Lance desperately tried again. “I was just, just…”

“He was asking me a question,” a voice cut in next to him. Surprised, Lance looked down at Keith, who didn’t seem bothered by the attention now focusing on him. “He’s almost done with his packet, too.”

Lance looked down at the packet in his hands, the page flipped to halfway. Funny. He didn’t think Keith had noticed.

The teacher’s eyes were narrowed at Keith, a frown pursing his lips. “He’s not bothering you?”

“No, sir,” Keith said.

“Alright…” He sounded dubious, but he turned back to the papers at his desk. With the distraction over with, the rest of the class went back to their own work, but Lance could see Hunk continuing to stare at him worriedly.

Fiddling with his paper, Lance looked at Keith, who had gone back to doodling. He couldn’t help but notice that he wasn’t covering the page anymore, and Lance could see that he was in fact drawing a small dog. It was a good drawing.

Huh, he thought. I guess Kogane really can draw.

“Um,” he started, and Keith looked up at him. There wasn’t exactly a warmth in his eyes, but he definitely looked more… open, to Lance. “Thanks. For that.”

“You’re welcome,” Keith said.

“I’m Lance,” Lance blurted. “If you, um. If you didn’t know.”

Lance didn’t know what god he pissed off a little less than usual today, because that was the moment Keith decided to smile. An actual, real, honest smile.

“I know,” Keith said. He was staring at Lance. “I’m Keith.”

A small laugh escaped Lance, and he returned Keith’s smile.

“I know.”

The video of Keith ending pulled Lance out of the memory. Adjusting his grip on his guitar, he turned to his phone and pressed play again. For a moment, the image of Keith sitting on his bathroom floor, hair in his eyes, lips soft and shining in the pale light, distracted him. Swallowing, he turned back to his guitar, playing the tune he was slowly putting together.

They became friends in sixth grade. Well, he wasn’t sure if he could’ve called them friends, but they did get closer. If they weren’t friends in sixth, they were definitely friends by seventh. It was in seventh that they actually hung out outside of school, with Lance mainly being the one to go to Keith’s house instead of the other way around. Lance had asked Keith about his autism and about any boundaries he should be aware of, and even though Keith liked Lance’s house, it was almost always full of people, which Keith wasn’t always comfortable with. It was the sounds of footsteps over floorboards and the multitude of voices mixing and overlapping that got to him, he said. It was something Lance had picked up on, how his shoulders would tense at the noises and how he would start to fiddle with his hands, closing himself off. The last time it happened Lance had suggested they go to his house instead, and relief had flooded Keith’s face. So, they had spent most of their time in Keith’s yard. Lance didn’t mind. He liked Keith’s house, too.

Getting off his bike, Lance rested the blue metal against the mailbox, tucking his helmet under his arm. The pathway leading to the front door had some cracks in it, and he hopped over them as he made his way to the porch.

The front yard was relatively empty, the exception being a lone soccer ball the boys had kicked around the last time Lance had come over. It was only two days ago. A plastic flamingo stuck out of the flower bed, which Keith’s brother, Shiro, had told him was a weak attempt at making the house feel more homey.

Lance wasn’t blind to their financial problems, and he was aware of the fact that they were probably going to move out soon. His heart hurt a little bit, but Keith had talked about the apartment he and Shiro had looked at, and it seemed a lot more easily manageable. They had also made sure it was soundproof, and that the neighbors were nice. Keith didn’t love it, but he was okay.

And if Keith was okay, Lance was okay.

Hopping up the porch steps, Lance rang the doorbell, stepping back to rock on his heels. The weather was nice, not too warm, with the leaves on the trees just starting to turn colors. Lance stared out at the trees lining the yard, the reds, oranges, and yellows dancing before his eyes. Keith loved autumn.

The doorknob turned, and with a low creak, Keith was poking his head around the edge. Seeing it was Lance, a grin broke out across his face as he opened the door wider. He was wearing his favorite sweatshirt and jeans, and a raindrop chew necklace hung from his neck. In all honesty, from the state of his hair, he looked like he just woke up.

Lance’s face stretched into a smile, and he bent over in a deep bow. “Your Highness, I have come at last.”

“Get in here already,” Keith laughed, tugging on Lance’s sleeve. He nearly tripped over the threshold on his way in, which just made Keith laugh more.

At the end of the hall, Shiro poked his head around the corner. “Is that Lance?”

“Hey, Shiro!” Lance called, taking off his shoes before Keith tugged him down the hall. It opened up into the living room, revealing Shiro to be sitting on the far side of the couch. He looked over his shoulder, a grin breaking out across his face. Lance loved Shiro, and was immensely jealous that Keith got to see him every day. Keith tried to assure him that he “wasn’t missing anything, honestly”, but Lance didn’t believe him. Shiro was a divine being, a breathtaking god.

Keith called him ridiculous when he told him his thoughts, but he had smiled while doing so.

“‘Sup, Lance!” Shiro said, leaning against the back of the couch. Some sort of writing was opened up on his laptop in front of him. “Whatcha up to?”

“The daily grind,” Lance responded as Keith said, “We’re going to my room.”

Lance sent him finger guns and a wink. “So, the daily grind.”

Rolling his eyes, Keith turned away, thudding his way up the stairs. “I call Link in Mario Kart!”

“Wh- Hey! No!”

Lance made to go after him, but a sudden hand on his wrist made him stop. Turning, Lance looked at Shiro’s hand, then at Shiro himself, before raising an eyebrow. “Shiro, I love you, but my man is on the line here -“

“Thank you,” Shiro interrupted, bringing Lance to a surprised halt.

Lance blinked at him, a frown tugging on his lips. “For what?”

The grip around his wrist loosened, and Shiro dropped his hand to dangle in the air between them. With a faraway look in his eyes, he gazed up at the top of the stairs, where Keith had disappeared. Lance couldn’t place the emotion on his face.

“He doesn’t have a lot of friends,” Shiro murmured. “It bothers me more than it bothers him, but. Before you, not many people tried to understand.” He looked at Lance again, gaze refocusing. “Thank you for being his friend, Lance.”

“Oh.” Lance blinked again. “You don’t have to thank me for that, Shiro.”

“I know, but -“ Shiro ran a hand through his hair. “You make him happy. He was never unhappy, but. He wasn’t like this.” He looked at Lance again. “So. Thank you.”

A small smile appeared on Lance’s face. “He makes me happy, too.”

Shiro returned the smile. “I know.”

From up the stairs, Keith’s voice called out. “I got Link!”

“Fuc- uuuuudge,” Lance cursed, frantically turning away from an amused Shiro and bolting up the stairs. “I’ll get him next time, Keith! Mark my words!”

Keith just laughed.

“Lance?”

The abrupt sound of Keith’s voice jerked Lance out of the memory. His fingers faltered over the strings, resulting in an ugly, high pitched squeak. Flinching, he quickly pulled his hands away and looked up.

Keith hovered in the music room doorway, watching Lance with wide eyes. Their schedules weren’t the most aligned, and they hadn’t been able to see each other all day. Sometimes they shared a free period, or gym, but it didn’t match up this time. Lance was kinda glad. After the night before, he wasn’t sure if he would’ve been ready to face Keith again so soon.

Keith was wearing a dark gray hoodie and black joggers, and his hair was pulled back into a ponytail. In his hand he clutched his phone, and with the other he fiddled with a stim necklace hanging from his neck. It wasn’t anything extraordinary, but seeing him after a full day of nothing was like a drink of water in the middle of a dry desert. Lance’s heart twinged, and he hated how even though it hurt, seeing Keith made him happy.

Keith made him so, so happy.

“Keith! Hey!” Lance called, mustering up a grin. “I thought you had already gone home.”

“No, I -“ Keith started, shifting his feet. He looked at the floor before quickly snapping his gaze back up to Lance. “I wanted to see you. You weren’t answering your texts, so…”

His texts…? Frowning, Lance looked down at his phone. The video had stopped again, and he swiped down to see his notifications. Sure enough, a handful of texts from Keith appeared.

from: mullet ❤️

[3:02 pm] do you want a drive home?

[3:07 pm] ????

[3:10 pm] laaaaaaaance

[3:15 pm] are you okay? are you busy?

[3:18 pm] Lance?

[3:20 pm] wait are you in the music room

Lance laughed and looked back up at Keith, who had drifted closer. “You know me so well, mullet.”

Grumbling, Keith looked at his feet. “You always come in here. Everyone should know that.”

Shrugging, Lance turned off his phone screen, setting it down. “Sorry for not seeing them. I was practicing.”

“I can see that.” Walking over to his right side, Keith sat down, hunching over his knees. One of his shoes was close to coming untied, and Lance was tempted to lean over and tie it back for him. Would that look kinda gay or what?

The sunlight from the windows hit Keith’s face at an odd angle, and it made a thin strip on his nose glow. Lance could’ve sworn his hair was glittering in the golden light, and for a moment he imagined himself pulling out the ponytail and running his hands through the thick strands. They looked so soft.

Now that would’ve been gay.

“Lance, I…” Keith muttered, wrapping his arms around his legs. Turning his head, he rested his cheek against the top of his knees, his eyes locking onto Lance’s.

Lance loved Keith’s eyes. Some days they looked a deep blue, some days they looked a beautiful brown, and some days they even looked an enriching purple. He couldn’t tell today. Today they were just dark, staring at him in a way that made them seem like they knew all his secrets. It made his throat dry.

Stammering, Lance turned back to his guitar, his hands sweaty. “I - I liked your song yesterday. Er, last night. This morning?” Scratching the back of his neck, he laughed. “It was nice.”

Keith didn’t respond for a moment. Glancing at him, Lance saw that he was still staring at him, his cheek squished up against his knees. He looked so cute. Fuck.

When Keith finally spoke, it wasn’t at all what Lance was expecting.

“You’re pretty.”

Freezing, Lance stared at him, the breath stilling in his lungs. His fingers dug into the back of his neck, and a moment later his heart began pounding against his ribs.

You’re pretty.

“Uh -“ Lance coughed, then gave a nervous chuckle. He wanted to look away from Keith’s eyes, but they had become a magnet. He could feel his face burning. “Thanks.”

Keith lifted his head. His own cheeks were a deep red as he nodded to Lance’s guitar, breaking the eye contact. Lance felt like he could breathe again.

“What song are you doing?” Keith asked, voice soft.

Lance looked down at his guitar, having forgotten about it just then. “Um, it’s - it’s for you.”

Beside him, Keith went still. “Me?”

Swallowing, Lance played a few notes. “Yeah, I’ve - I’ve been listening to the lyrics you sent me, and I was trying to put something together for it.”

He felt a solid weight against his arm, and his heart skipped a beat. It’s been doing that a lot, lately, huh. Glancing to his right, he saw Keith leaning against him, staring at Lance’s hands. The weight both comforted him and made him panic. “Can I listen?”

“Ah - sure!” Adjusting his grip, Lance put his focus on the strings under his fingers. Deep breath, Lance. Breathe. It’s just Keith.

Just Keith.

Keith, who you’re in love with.

Damn.

The first notes rang out, drifting through the air. It was a soft, gentle tune, as Lance wanted it to match Keith’s singing, but to not overpower it. His fingers danced across the strings, the sounds slowly leading up to the opening lyrics. Already the music was calming him down. He closed his eyes, lips opening to mouth the words that had been ingrained into his brain.

He reached the moment the lyrics would start, and it was then that Keith began to sing.

How he knew that that was when his cue was, Lance didn’t know. His fingers kept moving, but his eyes had shot open, and he stared at Keith as Keith swayed back and forth, head tilted back, eyes closed as the words flowed from beyond his lips. That thin strip of sun was across his nose again, and the space around them seemed to be catching the light, glittering.

What kind of shoujo bullshit is this, Lance thought, breathless.

They kept going, Keith singing, Lance playing his guitar. The two sounds flowed together perfectly, dancing and spinning and filling up the music room. It was one thing hearing Keith’s voice over a recording. It was completely different hearing it in person, sitting right next to him. It somehow sounded more beautiful, more angelic, more everything.

How the hell Lance was going to get over his feelings, he didn’t know. Keith could turn him away and date a million other guys, and he would still harbor this pathetic softness.

I really am in deep, huh, he thought.

The lyrics came to an end, and the both of them trailed off, the lingering notes hovering in the air. Lance swallowed, blinking frantically as he stared at Keith’s profile.

You’re pretty, he had said.

Keith was staring at him now. It was quiet, and Lance felt like his head was stuffed with cotton. His tongue was dry, and he swallowed again.

“Lucky guy, having you sing this for him,” he croaked. God, it hurts. “Will I have to be at the confession as backup musician, or…?”

There was a moment where neither of them moved.

Something in Keith’s expression changed, then. His eyes focused, and he turned his head to better look Lance in the eye.

Lance recognized that look. It was a look Keith got on his face when he had finally decided on something, when he had finally made up his mind. It was a look of action, of determination. Lance didn’t know what it meant that he was at the other end of it.

Before he could say anything, however, Keith was leaning forward. Lance only had time to inhale sharply before their lips were being pressed together.

Holy shit.

Holy.

Shit.

Holy shit!

It wasn’t a soft kiss. Keith didn’t like soft touches. Lance let Keith press against him, the solidness of the weight grounding him before he can go careening off center. Keith’s eyes were squeezed shut, and he brought up a hand to grab at Lance’s sweatshirt. Closing his eyes, too, Lance gripped onto his guitar with everything he had.

He didn’t see fireworks. He didn’t feel explosions. The only thing he did feel was the pounding of his heart, bass boosted. He was sure Keith could hear it. He was sure the whole world could hear it.

Keith was kissing him.

Keith was kissing him.

Holy fucking shit Keith was kissing him.

The grip on his sweatshirt tightened. “Kiss back,” Keith whispered - pleaded. It was a desperate sound, a scared sound.

Lance’s eyes opened, and as much as it pained him to do so, he pulled away - although, he didn’t go far enough that their noses didn’t touch. Keith’s eyes were still closed, but they fluttered open then, wide and dark. So, so dark.

“The guy in the song,” Lance whispered.

“You,” Keith breathed. “God, Lance, it - it’s always been you.”

It’s always been you.

“Oh my god,” Lance whispered. It wasn’t until his cheeks started to hurt that he realized he was smiling. “Keith, you…”

A breathless chuckle burst from his lips, and his hold on his guitar loosened. Keith stared at him, his brows furrowing.

“Why are you laughing?” he asked, his voice starting to rise. Lance shook his head. He was pretty sure his eyes were damp. Holy shit.

“Keith, you -“ Lance swallowed, and he slowly brought up a hand to grip Keith’s wrist. “You - you like me?”

Keith was blinking, and at Lance’s words he looked down. It was only for a second, however, as he quickly locked back onto Lance’s eyes.

“I love you,” Keith whispered. They were close enough Lance could feel the softness of his breath.

Lance’s heart was working overtime. Lifting a hand, he brought it to Keith’s cheek, where he brushed the bangs away from his face. Keith’s eyes widened as he stared at him.

“Can I kiss you?” Lance asked.

There was a moment before the words sunk in, then Keith leaned forward, eyes somehow sparkling. “Yes.”

This kiss was different. Lance leaned into the touch, tilting his head for a better angle. Keith shifted closer, reaching past Lance to move the guitar out of the way before sliding his hands into Lance’s hair. He could feel Keith smiling before his lips started to move. He tasted like mint gum, and Lance tried to kiss him even harder. He could feel a giggle in his throat, and when Keith briefly pulled away for air, he let it out, watching as Keith’s eyes lit up before he pulled him in again.

He was kissing Keith.

He was kissing Keith.

Lance had kissed people before, usually at parties - mostly girls, a handful of guys, some ambiguous. They happened on bathroom floors, or against stairwell walls, or on the corner of couches. They made him forget who he was, what his name was. All were more forward, more rough, just more.

However, as Keith sighed against his lips, his hands sliding up Lance’s chest as Lance fulfilled his fantasy of dragging his fingers through his ponytail, Lance decided he wouldn’t trade this kiss for any of them.

“I love you, too,” Lance whispered.

He could feel Keith smile as he kissed him again.