For The Stars

Chapter 7: Paladin or Blade

The silence seemed to stretch for eternity. He stared at the communicator again, waiting for a response, but there was no change. The face on the other end continued to stare in deafening silence. The tics turned to dobashes as they passed and still Keith stared at the silent image in his hand.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Kolivan spoke and Keith let out a relieved sigh at his Leader's words. "Very well. You are granted 1 quintant. I await the princess' call." And with that their conversation was over. He fell backwards onto his bed and stared up at the ceiling, open communicator still in his hand. This was not good, Kolivan was pissed, Keith was in deep shit, and Allura probably hated him. Not to mention Shiro. Stars! Shiro probably hated him too – or worse, was scared of him. He wanted to go talk to his friend but he also wanted to give the man space. It was all so conflicting. And then there was Lance and Hunk. Who knew what they were feeling about the whole 'reveal' thing. A groan escaped him as he tossed his communicator onto the bedside table.

Aliens made everything more complicated. If this were the Blades, and the team were Galra, he'd know exactly what to do to fix the situation. But they weren't Galra, they were Humans and Alteans, and he had no clue what his next move should be. Groaning again, he let his head roll from side to side. "Ughh, why is this so difficult!" He shouted out into the silence.

Alone in his room, Keith lay completely still. The darkness broken only by the soft blue lights lining the base of each wall; even with the main lighting off, it was still too bright for him to sleep. Leaving his eyes in their more Human version helped, since they took in less light, but they were still substantially more sensitive than the other Paladin's eyes. He pulled the pillow out from under his head and laid it over his face blocking the light, yet even this wasn't much better. Sure it blocked the light, but it also sent his warm breath back at him, making the air around his face hot and damp. A part of him wanted to pull out his knife and just break each of the little lights, plunging the room into the sweet relief of darkness. But the princess probably wouldn't be too thrilled if he vandalized her castle; so he refrained. Keith was practically a martyr.

A shuffling sound filtered in from the hallway. Perking up, he focused his hearing on the soft sounds, listening for anything that would identify the person outside. He heard more movement, followed by some mumbling but no follow up mumbles, meaning there was only a single person on the other side. The shuffling seemed to move away, then come back, then move away in the opposite direction before returning and repeating the cycle; pacing. With a groan he got to his feet and opened the door.

"Hey, Lance." He sighed as the door opened, revealing a ghostly pale, and rather frazzled looking, Blue Paladin. The boy's eyes shot wide and he took a tentative step back before blinking several times and rubbing the back of his neck. Keith watched the motion, he could almost feel the tension radiating off the other as sweat beaded on the sides of his temples and made the short brown short hair on the back of head glisten. Softening his voice and adopting a much more casual stance, Keith leaned in the door frame, arms crossed over his chest, and hair still a mess from having been lying down. "Did you, uh – did you want something?"

Lance almost seemed to flinch at the words and he didn't speak, merely nodding his head quietly as he stood in the empty hall in his blue pyjamas and lion slippers; a soft, mint green, goo spread over his face. Keith stepped aside and let the tanned boy in. He stood in the middle of Keith's room, looking around in confusion before shrugging and plopping down on the floor with his back against the bed and his legs crossed in front. With a slight huff, Keith sat beside him.

"It's dark in here." Was all the Cuban managed to spit out. There was a heaviness to his words, his entire demeanour lacking its natural brightness and enthusiasm. Lance kept his head down, not making eye contact and instead choosing to stare intently at the fingernails he was picking at in his lap. It was very 'un-Lance' behaviour.