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every time i open up

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lanceylance > kogayne

lanceylance: hey i love you

lanceylance: why are you isolating again

kogayne: wha

kogayne: am not

lanceylance: i’ve been watching your spotify activity for the last hour and you’ve just been playing your sad playlist

kogayne: it’s not my sad playlist

lanceylance: it’s full of sleeping at last, sam smith, and a bunch of other songs about isolation and abandonment

kogayne: you don’t know that

lanceylance: azlyrics is my best friend

lanceylance: what’s going on starlight

lanceylance: talk to me

kogayne: okay i swear i didn’t /mean/ to it just sort of happened

lanceylance: i don’t think /anyone/ really means to

lanceylance: what happened

kogayne: it’s nothing we haven’t already been over

lanceylance: :(

kogayne: then i got thinking about meeting my mom and i’m

kogayne: i’m scared

kogayne: i’m /terrified/

lanceylance: why

lanceylance: talk me through this

kogayne: i mean i’ve already said it before but??

kogayne: she’s the root of my abandonment issues and she’s never tried to contact us before this and she never showed up for my dad’s funeral or shiro’s parents’ funeral and she never sent money to at least make sure we were financially stable

kogayne: and if she’s homophobic i don’t know how i’ll take it because on the one hand that’s my /mom/ and i /want/ things to go well with her

kogayne: as shitty as she is for abandoning me it’s my /mom/ and /maybe/ she has a good reason for leaving

kogayne: so what if she’s just

kogayne: “gay? not in my good christian household!”

kogayne: but like

kogayne: not ironically??

kogayne: given everything else happening in my life being gay was one of the easier things for me to come to terms with because i just kinda,,, set it aside like “well i like boys nothing i can do about that” and just??

kogayne: and if she’s homophobic i can’t bring /you/ to her and be like “hey this is lance this is my boyfriend!” because she won’t handle it well

kogayne: and she’ll probably do some shit like call you a friend or if she’s /worse/ she’ll probably degrade you /and/ me

kogayne: but i don’t wanna walk in going “this is lance, this is my,,,,, ‘friend’” because you mean /so much/ to me i can’t just go doing you dirty like that

kogayne: dsfdwedqfwewes i never had to really come out to parents before, or like, never really struggled with it?

kogayne: matt’s bi and allura and shiro are pan and they were out long before i was so i already knew i had no problem coming out to the holts or the alteas or my aunt and uncle

kogayne: hunk’s moms /are gAY/ so like,,, no problem there either

kogayne: i don’t think i’ve ever actually come out to shay’s family but she’s bi so i mean??? they all seemed lovely at the parties anyway so

kogayne: and then by the time i got around to meeting your family and hanging out you were /already out/ and yOU APPARENTLY COULDN’T SHUT UP ABOUT YOUR BIG FAT CRUSH ON ME

lanceylance: :)

kogayne: so just???????? this is so wEIRD AND DIFFERENT AND I’M TERRIFIED ALRIGHT?? THERE I SAID IT I’M SCARED

lanceylance: and being scared is perfectly reasonable and perfectly valid

lanceylance: rest assured if she is a homophobe she has the entire squad to deal with

lanceylance: plus i’m pretty sure shiro wants to fistfight her, so

kogayne: hhnn

kogayne: i don’t know what i’m gonna do if/when i meet her

kogayne: like?? AAAAAAAAAAAA there’s not many people i can ask for advice on this subject

kogayne: BECAUSE THIS GENERALLY DOESN’T HAPPEN

lanceylance: can i try and give some advice/reassurances?

kogayne: i guess hhhh

lanceylance: breathe

lanceylance: breathing is key

lanceylance: listen, if u don’t want me to go with u, i won’t go, but i want to be there with u for support

lanceylance: i will 100% understand and won’t be hurt if, in a worst-case scenario, i get introduced as a “good friend”

lanceylance: i don’t want you putting yourself into a dangerous position

lanceylance: take care of yourself first

kogayne: :((((

kogayne: mmmmmm i can;t

kogayne: i can’t form words right now

kogayne: aaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

lanceylance: phone call? ft??

kogayne: can you please come over

kogayne: if you can

lanceylance: of course

lanceylance: want me sleep over?

kogayne: /please/

lanceylance: let me get some stuff together, i’ll leave in about 5

lanceylance: i love you

lanceylance: hang in there, pat a cat or something till i get there

kogayne: BLACK IS A DE—

kogayne: i know what you’re doing

lanceylance: ;) <3


            Keith waits on the living room couch for Lance, mindlessly taking in whatever show is on the Home & Garden Channel. He can’t bring himself to care about some guy’s issue with the tiles in the bathroom, or the fact that there are three walk-in closets in this house and not four.

            He doesn’t get up when he hears Lance’s car roll up in the driveway after fifteen minutes of this family’s fruitless search for the perfect home, nor does he get up when he hears the car doors opening and closing. He only rises to his feet when he hears Lance’s footfalls as he ascends the steps of the porch, and pulls the front door open so Lance doesn’t have to fumble to get the spare key out from its hiding spot.

            Lance doesn’t smile. He gives Keith a weary look of sympathy and steps into the house, sets his bags down on the chair closest to the door, and then sweeps Keith into his arms, one hand holding the back of Keith’s head, the other one around his back. Keith slides his arms underneath Lance’s and clutches the back of Lance’s shoulders, buries his face in the side of Lance’s neck.

            “It’s okay, baby,” Lance whispers. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

            Keith hates how much of a routine this has become—Lance dropping everything to come be with him and comfort him over something he should be able to work through himself. Lance never even complains, but guilt still gnaws at Keith anyway.

            Lance shuffles forward, then, and Keith shuffles backward. Lance leads them to the couch where they promptly collapse—Lance’s back against the cushions, and Keith on top of him, head against his shoulder and chest. They both grunt lightly, but slowly inch into a more comfortable position, muscles relaxing. Lance runs lazy fingers through Keith’s hair, eyes on the TV screen, while Keith closes his eyes and snuggles closer.

            The one good thing about today, as opposed to other days, is that Keith isn’t crying, isn’t so fraught with anxiety that he can’t breathe. Those are the worst days, the ones that make him feel guiltier more than anything. For himself, seeing a person cry is difficult to deal with, because everyone knows comfort isn’t exactly Keith’s strong suit. He’d rather run and let someone else deal with it. His close circle of friends is the only exception—Lance especially. Because they know. They expect Keith’s personal brand of comfort, which is generally to hug things out and threaten to fight the things that make them sad.

            If they want advice, they go to Lance.

            Except here, Keith doesn’t need advice. He just needs someone to hold him, to be close to him. As much as he hates the routine, he always tries Lance first, and Lance, somehow, always pulls through for him.

            “That’s the ugliest kitchen I’ve ever seen,” Lance mumbles at some point, and Keith turns his head long enough to glimpse the TV, to glimpse a woman running her hand along a granite countertop that by no means matches the orange wallpaper of the room, nor the stainless steel of the appliances.

            “Yikes,” Keith agrees quietly.

            Lance shifts again, underneath him, until he’s somewhat sitting upright, and Keith’s head ends up in Lance’s lap. Lance’s hand never leaves Keith’s hair; every twist of a strand, every finger against his head sends a wash of warmth through Keith. The tension that plagued Keith the entire morning slowly ebbs.

            He and Lance lose themselves in House Hunters reruns, making commentary here and there. As time passes, Keith begins sitting more and more upright, and ends up with his head back where it began, on Lance’s shoulder. Lance, meanwhile, brings an arm around Keith to pull him closer, nonchalant and sly as he points at the TV and the hideous floor paneling, Keith, what kind of self-respecting person lives like that?

            “When we buy a house, I’m gonna specifically request that all the floors look exactly like that,” Keith teases.

            Lance gapes indignantly. “Buh—wha—I can’t believe you would ever think we’d buy a house together. In this economy?”

            “You right,” Keith replies, and pulls back to look directly at Lance. “Besides, we all know the apocalypse is gonna start before then.”

            Lance nods along with him. “Yep. The question is, are we gonna be dealing with zombies or robots?”

            “Um, aliens, clearly,” Keith replies. “They’re gonna come for the White House first and the takeover will be way too easy, and we’ll all be too busy worrying about the robot uprising to even remember that aliens are a problem. The aliens then hijack our technology because they’re too advanced for us, and we get double-teamed.”

            “Double-teamed?” Lance asks, and wiggles his eyebrows.

            Keith snorts and shoves him. “Don’t even go there! It’s a battle tactic, Lance—”

            “Mhmm, yeah, battle tactic—”

            “Oh my God, why are we even dating?”

            Lance throws his other arm around Keith and brings him in tight, squishing Keith’s cheek against his own, while a laugh bursts free from Keith.

            “Because you loooove me,” Lance sing-songs, “and I loooove you.”

            Lance draws back slightly, only so he can begin peppering the side of Keith’s face with kisses, each one punctuated by an over-the-top kissing noise. Keith giggles and holds tight to Lance’s arm. Here, it’s easy to forget why he was so anxious and scared in the first place, and Keith’s content to stay here, and let Lance shower him in affection.

            “Because you’re just so cute,” Lance continues, “and you’re passionate, and for some inexplicable reason you like cryptids and believe in aliens and it’s just so damn endearing, and you’re protective and sweet but you don’t want anyone to know and you like to think you’re tough but you’re just a big ol’ softie—”

            Keith’s face burns.

            Lance notices.

            “And you can’t take a compliment without becoming an adorable, flustered mess!”

            Lance throws all of his weight on Keith and sends them falling over.

            “Lance!”

            Keith laughs even harder when Lance hums and presses his face into his neck.

            Is the position—his arms pinned between Lance and the couch, as he leans over at an awkward angle—uncomfortable? Just a little bit, but being cuddled by Lance immediately makes up for it.

            “See? Soft,” Lance mutters. “I could fall asleep right now, as a matter of fact.”

            He pretends to snore, settling himself into the couch, purposely throwing a leg over Keith’s. Keith giggles again and reaches as best he can for Lance’s face. His fingertips barely brush Lance’s chin, but Lance gets the gist of it and leans his head closer, just so Keith can lean over and kiss his temple.

            “Sleep tight,” Keith says. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

            Lance nuzzles his face further into Keith’s neck. “You’re the only bed bug—”

            “Don’t even finish that sentence.”