Patterns

Running From Him

Keith could feel his breath coming in hiccups as he grabbed the front of Shiro's vest angrily. He wanted to cry, to collapse, but instead he clung to this Shiro, this man who was not like a brother to him, who had turned into something foreign. This evil man’s yellow eyes glinted as he snarled, trying to pull away from Keith. “Shiro! Shiro, stop!”

He could faintly make out Lance crying behind him, calling for him to back away. Lance was more emotional than Keith, visibly sobbing, his bayard shaking in his hands. “Keith, please,” he begged, trying to get a clear shot. Shiro was his hero but if he layed a finger on Keith Lance knew he wouldn't hesitate to shoot, no matter how much it hurt.

Keith let go of Shiro’s vest to try and grab his face. “Shiro, it's me! Please, just listen-” he tried, but this man would have none of it. With a growl he reached out, grabbing Keith and pinning the younger boy to his chest. Now flipped, Keith felt a stab of pain as he watched the turmoil of Lances thought float across his face.

“I know you won’t shoot him,” the thing(Keith couldn’t bring himself to think of him as Shiro any longer when he wasn’t) hissed to Lance. Lance knew he was right. He still didn't lower his bayard. He did let out a cry of panic when Shiro activated his arm and held it next to Keith's neck.

Keith could feel the heat of the weapon, the tendrils of sweat already forming on his brow. He strained away from it, gritting his teeth as he tried to maintain the insanity that was his thoughts at the moment. He struggled against the arm pinning him, trying to go for a firm kick to a knee cap, but stopped when he felt the arm singe away some of his hair, that's how hot and close it was to his neck. He was shocked he hadn't caught fire yet.

“Lower your bayard,” the thing demanded, and Keith tensed with renewed panic as Lance slowly did, hands trembling violently.

“Lance, think about what you’re doing,” Keith barked to his love, knowing they didn’t have a fighting chance if Lance gave in. “He’s bluffing!”

The evil raised his eyebrow, staring Lance straight in the eyes as he grabbed Keith's arm with his weaponized hand. Keith's cry of pain rang out, crashing though Lance. “Drop your bayard!” he yelled.

“Shiro, stop,” Keith sobbed out as the man released him, waves upon waves of pain thrumming through his newly burned arm. Tears of anger and tears of pain rushed down his face. “Lance, don’t you dare!”

Lance payed him no attention. Watching his boyfriend in that much pain distorted his voice of reason. He dropped his bayard immediately, throwing his hands up as a sign of surrender. “Don't hurt him,” He seethed, his voice wobbly but his words strong.

The thing watched Lance carefully. “Kick it over.”

Lance did as he was told, watching their last hope slid across the floor of the castle and come to a stop at Keith's foot. Keith, in a fit of rage, kicked it as hard as he could, sending it sailing across the room.

The things eyes flashed. Then, there was black.

. . . . .

“Keith, Lance, we have to form Voltron now!” Shiro yelled into his headset, the pounding of his footsteps steady alongside the thrum of worry in his head. “Where are you?! We're under attack!”

His panic increased as ran down the halls, trying to focus on keeping his breathing even. It wasn’t like Keith to be absent in times of danger, and the Gods only knew what Lance could be up to. He rounded a corner, this string of thoughts abruptly stopped at the sight infront of him.

A man that looked to be him but couldn’t be him because he was Shiro, right? This man stood there, yellow eyes glinting as he put a finger to his lips. “Shh. They’re trying to sleep.”

Lance and Keith were gagged and bound, their heads resting limply against one another's. There was a nasty gasp on Lance's forehead and one of Keith’s forearms was a bloody, blistering mess. “W-what did you do?!”

“Nothing yet. But I’ll make them better. Just like we made you.”