Lance was blue.
He was blue in many ways. Not only was he the blue paladin, but he was also the most depressed member of Voltron. Yes, even more so than the MCR reject known as Keith.
Lance was drowning in blue. Funny, the ocean is his home, his element. Yet everywhere he looked all he could see was blue.
Lance cried tears of blue. His veins, which contained a liquid of a beautiful color, was covered up and it too was blue. The only way Lance could ever see any other color was when he took a razor to his skin.
Lance's blue tears mixed with his red blood. It pooled around the blue tile, offsetting the cheery atmosphere. Lance's eye looked at it, the red reflecting of his blue eyes. Lance took bandages and wrapped up his arms, sad to see the beautiful color perish.
Lance was drowning, yet he would not allow himself to break the surface. Nor would he allow himself to sink any further. Lance was caught.
Lance slowly trudged into the dining room, his blue eyes scanning the walls. His hand trembled from the lack of blood, and a lovely crimson color sprouted at his sleeve. Lance sat down, his chair screeching loudly against the floor.
His team looked at him, wide eyed as they took in the appearance of their blue Paladin. His eyes were no longer vibrant, they were dull. Blue. His face was tear streaked and the black and blue bags under his eyes stood out against his mocha skin.
Lance could feel his vision growing dark.
He was losing to much of that precious color.
"Lance? Are you okay?" the red paladin asked. He rushed forward when Lance fell limp, his body struggling to remain consciousness. "Lance? Lance!"
"I love the color red...." Lance breathed. He took in his final breath. "I wish I could see it more..."
The cuban boy fell limp.
"LANCE!"
