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The gnawing pangs of hunger accelerate as the nights hours drone on; the feeling of being empty slowly corrupting his mind as each hour passes by. He loves the feeling. The feeling of an empty stomach. Light, floaty, almost like a feather dancing in the wind.


Lance traces his hand up his stomach, somehow feeling his ribcage which, in all honesty, freaked him out a bit. He didn’t understand how he could feel the thin outline of his ribs so vividly when he was so fat.


He thinks that maybe he wasn’t actually that fat. Maybe he’s imagining everything when he looks in the mirror. It confuses him in all honesty. Who should he listen to? His eyes or his sense of touch?


Maybe he’s just delusional.


The teens long fingers find their way to his protruding collar bones; the deep crevice giving him a small sense of security. Because maybe, just maybe, he isn’t as fat his minds eye seems to tell him. Or maybe Lance was wrong and he was dreaming?


Yeah. Delusional seems about right.


Another shot of pain through his stomach leaves him curling in on himself. The foetal position not helping lessen his bodily needs one bit.


He’d been fasting for about two days now that he thinks about it, starting the night after a small party on an alien planet that they’d saved. Pidge dared him to eat a lot of weird un-appetizing foods, betting on the rightful ownership of the console they’d both scrounged up enough money to get that one time they went to the space mall. Needless to say, Lance had a set food eating schedule and that night fucked it up.


He fucked it up. He can’t blame it on Pidge for daring him, Hunk for not intervening, Shiro for not being there at the time, Coran not paying attention, Keith watching on in anticipation, and Allura finding the planet that needed help in the first place.


It was all on him. And he regretted every second of it. Every hot, spicy, juicy food that would enter his mouth. Every warm, fluffy dessert. Every lukewarm appetizer that sent his taste buds into a frenzy because finally some sort of food had entered his system that wasn’t space goo or the alien equivalent of diet coke.


And to top it all off? Lance lost the bet.


Every calorie that was consumed that night, for nothing. Because once he started, do you really think he could stop?


Lance clenches his fist, feeling tears well up in his eyes. God he was so hungry.


In all honesty, which yeah Lance usually is quite honest, he doesn’t understand how the team doesn’t know. He has only shown up to one meal these past two days; and when he had showed up he doesn’t eat anything. He just sits there, letting the conversation flow smoothly. Make everyone too distracted to notice that you’re just playing with your food; not actually demolishing it like Keith, eating slowly like Allura, or eating normally like Shiro.  


He doesn’t think he’s the best at covering his tracks. Especially from Hunks worried glances and Corans skeptical eyes. But hey, Lance has gotta do what he’s gotta do, right?


Not raise suspicion. If he can stop Hunks worry and Coran sliding more goo onto his plate when he’s not looking, the teen can continue on in peace.


Lance winces, unclenching his fist to the feeling of crescent moons burned into his palms.


Don’t raise suspicion.


Because suspicion is the first step to failure.