Dirty Laundry by Gibslythe

Day 3 Ch. 15

Sunday, December 18th

11:37 A.M.

"Why does my Dad hate me?"

The question was simple really. Anyone who knew the truth could answer it, and Keith, someone who had just witnessed this full fledged truth, felt he should answer it with ease.

But did he want to answer it with ease? Not really.

A part of Keith felt like Jaime Sanchez truly didn't hate his son. Hate was a strong word, hate was the thing that fueled world wars and murder and discrimination. And although Mr. Sanchez had been disrespectful and horrid, some of the things he'd said still struck Keith a different way.

"I don't think your Dad hates you," Keith confessed, never letting his eyes stray from the white lines of the road. "I think he loves you, in some weird, twisted, asshole sort of way."

Lance wiped at his eyes. "Yeah, sure," He spoke sarcastically, like the notion was bullshit. Which, in Keith's defense, may have been slight bullshit, but still came from the truth.

Keith was getting the vibe that Jaime Sanchez didn't really think his son was worthless. It was more complex than that. Jaime loved his son, loved his son deeply, and Keith had the suspicion that Jaime truly wanted to support Lance. But Jaime was also old fashioned, and confused, and a beginner to understanding his son's bisexuality. He didn't know what he was doing, having to deal with a bisexual son, and he was naturally going to others for help. They didn't exactly make a handbook for this sort of thing (alright, some do exist, though Keith doubts Jaime would ever read those.) Jaime reacted the way he did because it was all he'd ever known. Growing up in a religious household, especially with Lance's Abuela for a mother, had most likely set him to have black and white vision.

However, that didn't justify Jaime's words, not in the slightest. What he'd done was wrong, regardless of the intent or ignorance.

Keith wanted more than anything to protect Lance from his bitter situation. He wanted to save him, rid him of all his problems. Except, Keith was smart. He knew that was an irrational notion, because the world is a cruel, hideous place, and that's the reality. You cannot protect someone forever, no matter how much you care for them. Why? Because at the end of the day, you have your own problems, and they have theirs. Someday Lance was going to have to fight his own battles, and on that day Keith wouldn't be there to help him escape.

But, for now? For now Keith could at least be a support, a shield of protection for a day. He could keep driving, and driving, and driving, letting the car cruise at seventy miles per hour down the freeway.

It wasn't an escape though, not by any means. It was a step back. One that would allow Lance to make a better, stronger step forward in the right direction.

Lance had stopped crying a while ago, though the red eyes and puffy cheeks still lingered. Keith refused to look at Lance again, not while he was still in this state. Not that Keith was embarrassed to see Lance cry, their relationship had taken a strange and unexpected turn past that. No, Keith just didn't want his heart to ache all over again.

The silence between the two boys was masked by the car's engine, and Keith noticed Lance tugging at his shirt absentmindedly. Lance was all worn out now, the energy of crying, adrenaline, and emotions having drained him of every last drop.

Keith thought back to just fifteen minutes earlier, how he'd wrenched at Lance's hand and led them straight out the front door. He remembered how Jaime had seen them, how he'd cried out to stop, how distraught he sounded. Jaime knew he'd made a mistake, he knew he'd broken his son. He felt guilty, Keith had heard it in his voice. And had Keith stopped? No. Keith had kept walking, all the way out the front door, all the way past the soft jingle of the doorbell, all the way to their shitty car. All the way to somewhere safe.