Hana

Honeysuckle

All the pain Lance felt disappeared; and everything was black. He opened his eyes to see his body was floating in nothingness. He couldn't see anybody or anything around him or underneath him. He heard everything as if he was underwater, only aware of his own presence. After a few seconds, he realized that he couldn't hear his heartbeat, so he focused on his chest. He wasn't breathing either. More like, he didn't need to breathe. He reached his arm out to the side in an attempt to feel anything, but there really wasn't anything there. He thought that he probably should have been frightened in this situation, but he was at complete peace. Maybe it was a side effect from not having to pump blood or breathe. Maybe it was a side effect of dying. Was this how dying felt? Was this all that was left? No tunnel of light? No light at all? Just forever floating in a void of a color darker than black?

Maybe I should just let go. The thought crossed his mind many times. Many nights, he would lie in bed praying that he would choke on his own blood and get it over with. That he would finally die. He had been brought back from the dead many times. From surgeries to medications to fucking yoga, Lance did it all. Why again? For his family? It definitely wasn't for himself. Or maybe it was. Maybe, somewhere inside him, he actually wished that he could magically be cured. He won't. It's not possible. The flowers may have already imbedded themselves into his lungs. That's probably what killed him.

Lance would have smiled if it was possible. This could be it. It's finally over.

He let his body float downward, and the welcoming void coaxed him into its arms. The comfort of it all was the most relaxing feeling.

Keith flashed into his mind. His dorky, bright smile. The way his hair curled differently depending on if he had it up or down. His warm embrace and strong arms that protected Lance from the cruel world. His face when he cried for Lance. The way he tried to hide it to keep Lance from thinking he was weak.

Keith brought his hand up to Lance's cheek, just grazing over his skin. He smiled sweetly and gazed into Lance's eyes, "I love you."

Why didn't he answer him? Why was it so hard to think of an answer? Why was it so hard when the answer was so obvious?

No.

I'm not dying today.

Lance's eyes shot open and he forced as much air into his lungs that he could, reopening every tear in his throat. The intensity of the pain he was in hit him in one big wave, causing him to curl up and clutch his chest. It took him a moment to realize that it was nighttime now. How long was I out? His heart hurt the most as it ached for Keith. He gathered all of the strength that he didn't have. Adrenaline was the only thing that kept him alive. He pushed onto his hands and knees, crawling to the edge of the road. He wasn't sure if this would even work. How busy was this road anyway? He had to stop to hack up pink and brown. Brown? That can't be good.

When he successfully dragged his body to the side of the road, he stopped and caught his breath. Was he supposed to just wait for a car to drive by? He could actually be dead by then. But with a smashed up phone and lungs locked in self-destruct mode, he didn't really have an option. There weren't any houses across the road or he would have opted for that route.

A few feet away was a fence. Lance dragged himself to it and used it to hurl himself into his feet. He knew that he would fall if he let go, so he leaned on it, splinters piercing the skin of his palms. He listened intently and desperately prayed for a car to reach him. All he heard was the sound of the wind blowing through the trees. Fuck. Come on!

Finally, he noticed lights painting the branches of the trees. His heart filled with relief. He lifted one hand and waved it above his head, attempting to get the driver's attention. The lights shined brightly in Lance's face, then disappeared. Lance slowly dropped his arm to his side. Blood leaked from his smiling mouth, Is this really how I'm gonna die? He let go of the fence and let his legs give out from under him. Tears overflowed his eyes and spilled onto the gravel. He cried out in desperation, his voice breaking with grief. "Somebody help me!"

There was no answer. Of course there was no answer. He fell onto his back and looked up at the stars. They twinkled a lot more without the light pollution of the city. They disgusted Lance. Every star. Every. Single. One. All those wishes they held meant nothing. He hated that this would be the last thing he saw as he died.

Suddenly, they got harder to see. Lance turned his head to see two huge, bright lights in his face.

"Lance!"

Lance thought that it was terrible that he would imagine such a thing in his last moments. That he would have to see Keith's broken face as he passed. But then he realized that it was real.

Keith dropped to Lance's side, blocking the lights. He picked up Lance's head and cried softly, "Please be okay."

"I'm in love with you." Lance's voice was low and airy.

Keith smiled down at him, "You crazy son of a bitch!"

Lance was picked up and put into Keith's car. It was warm, unlike his previous gravel deathbed. Keith let Lance hold his hand as he drove to the hospital. He could feel his skin, it was really Keith. His angel had saved him again.

Every few minutes, Lance would choke out, "I love you."

And Keith would answer with a warm voice, "I love you too."

When they reached the hospital, Lance was pulled into surgery. When he opened his eyes, Keith was sleeping with his head leaned on Lance's bed, holding his hand. He smiled at the cute scene and let himself fall back asleep as well. He wanted to enjoy this happiness for as long as he could.

After all, he can't just magically be cured.