Klance oneshots

Insane

We are not who you think we are.

We are strong, not weak.

We will fight, not stand aside.

We are loving, not hating.

We are normal, not crazy.

We are not who you think we are.

I always tell myself these things when I'm feeling down. I am not insane, people just can't see things the way I do. I don't want to harm others unless those others have harmed. 

I am not insane, I am me. 

They can't see the world I do and that's because their minds don't work the way it's supposed to. Mine works perfectly normally. I can see the things they can't. 

They are the problem, not me. Not anybody here. Our brains are hardwired to see the world as it is and they cannot handle it. 

They call themselves 'doctors'. They call me 'insane'. 

I call them 'monsters' and I call myself 'normal'. 

They never listen. 

They never listen.

They never listen.

They never listen.

"THEY NEVER LISTEN!" I scream as I punch the wall. Those light pale blue walls I have grown so accustomed to. I fall to the ground, pulling my hair and loudly sobbing. Why can't they just listen? Why can't they just understand? I do not cry for myself, I cry for them because they cannot. They will not. I hate them and pity them. They don't even try. 

So why should I?

Because I have a reason to. I try because even though I know they will not understand, I will fight for what is right.

It's just us and them.

They diagnosed me as a 'danger to the public'. What I still don't understand is: what I did wrong? I was only protecting the people.

So what if he got hurt? He was in the way of the greater good. 

Somebody had to do something and nobody was, so I did. 

I've been here for seven years. I don't remember much about myself. Just my name. Lance Mcclain. I don't know how old I am or when my birthday is. I don't know how tall I am, I don't know squat. There are always constants in my life, though. And I need someone to talk to right now.

"Keith?" I call out. 

"I'm right here," a voice gently said next to me. I turn my head to see that wonderful man I've known since I was young. Of course, he wasn't a man when I was little. We grew up together, Keith and I. 

His wavy black hair, his vibrant purple eyes, his stupid red jacket, everything. Just... everything. 

"Keith..." I trail off. Sometimes it's hard for me to say anything more.

 He kindly smiles and places his hand on my shoulder. 

"I'm right here," he assures me again. I lean against the wall I just punched and he does the same.  He rests his head on my shoulder and wraps his arms around me, cuddling with me.