The Color of Death is Blue

The Cake

Keith stood with his hands in his pockets and his hood up. His eyes followed the mundane actions of the various people in the bakery: a little girl with pigtails jumping up and down and tugging on her father's hand, a tan woman receiving a large white box, two high school girls sharing a cupcake. He tried to move his legs away, but his body wouldn't budge. Keith begged himself to continue on, but he finally gave in and entered the bakery.

The little bell jingled as he opened the door. He was hit by a wave of warm vanilla. The smell of crispy pastries and cinnamon rolls permeated the dim yellow air. Keith's eyed scanned over the treats behind the glass counter. It held an assortment of cupcakes decorated with colorful frostings and topped with chocolate or spices or cookies.

His ears reacted to the sound of a bag crinkling as a man accepted it with a 'thanks have a nice day.' Keith followed him with his eyes as he left the store and turned right, pulling out his phone. Keith turned back to the glass and scanned over the sweets until he found what he was looking for: a piece of cake covered with sparkly white frosting and topped with whipped cream and a glazed dark red strawberry.

"Welcome back," Lance greeted him with a smile.

Keith gave him a nod and quick smile as he entered, careful not to hit the cake box. He was surprised at how comfortable Lance had gotten, as he only wore a grey tank top and shorts.

Lance clicked all of the locks into place, then rubbed his hands together in satisfaction. Then, he pointed to the opaque bag as Keith set it on the table, "What is that?"

Keith held back the urge to stare at Lance's baby pink sport shorts. "It's for you."

He tilted his head and smiled in confused surprise as he lifted his arms, "For me?"

Keith scratched the back of his head with a hand on his hip as Lance's slim fingers picked open the bag and opened the box. He flashed a wide smile at Keith, then looked back down to admire the cake. "You got this for me?" His aegean eyes shimmered with appreciation and his lips curled upward, showing off his teeth.

Keith turned his head sideways and fiddled with his hair, "Well, I-I mean, I just, just remember that you liked it, so-" he trailed off.

"Thank yo-"

Lance was cut off by the deafening crash of glass. Shattered pieces of the large window fell onto the wood floor. Keith quickly jumped forward to wrap his arms around Lance's waist and yank him back into the kitchen, curling up behind the shelter of the counters. The stomping of boots entered the apartment, crunching the glass. Keith cursed under his breath and slid over to a cabinet, retrieving a gun from inside. Lance was curled up, covering his head and shaking. Keith yanked out his phone and called Shiro. He reached over to pull Lance's arm toward him. Lance looked at him with a scared, desperate expression.

Keith shoved the phone into his chest, "Tell Shiro what's going on." He motioned to the open cabinet, "Get in and be as quiet as possible."

Lance hesitated for a second, but complied and climbed in. Keith closed it behind him and gripped his gun with both hands. Now that Lance was out of view, he mentally panicked. Various boots explored the apartment, searching through the rooms. Soon they would find him. Lance was hidden, so as far as they knew: Keith was the only one there. There wasn't anywhere Keith could hide, so he had two choices: fight or wait for Shiro and Coran. Judging by the frequency of steps, Keith figured there were at least six men. Keith was good with a gun, but not that good. There was no way that he could take on six people on his own. It was only a matter of time before they found him, and he had nowhere to go. It would be near impossible to wait long enough for help to arrive.

I'm fucked. Keith's breath became ragged as he listened to the sound of someone creeping toward the kitchen. He was surrounded on both sides. He tightened his grip and bit his lip. He tried to calm himself and think logically.

There was no way he was getting out unscathed. If he didn't die while fighting them, he would die shortly after. The only solid thing was that Lance was safe. No one knew he was with him. Keith was doing his job; so there was only one option left.

"Drop your weapon!"

Keith raised his head to look at both gun barrels aimed at him from both sides. The men were wearing dark purple with black- the standard of the Galra recruits.

"I said drop your weapon!"

Keith controlled his angry breathing as he reluctantly chucked his gun to the other side of the kitchen, way out of reach.