Bloody Texas

Raise Your Hand if You're Literally Crying

Lance got thinner and sicker, just as the doctor had said. The stupid doctor. Keith despised hospitals. He hated them for taking away his world. Lance spent most of his time playing cards or talking with Mark. When he wasn't up, he slept with Keith's hand in his. There was a man a few rooms down who had pneumonia as well. The difference between his situation and Lance's was that Lance only got worse while that man went home.

It only took four days for the pneumonia to kill Lance.

He died at 3:58 pm on a Tuesday.

It was slow. Quiet. Whenever Keith thought about death, it was always loud and angry. But for Lance, dying was gentle. He lied in bed holding Keith's hand as his breaths became more and more strained and shallow. Lance had asked Mark to leave the day before, as he didn't want him to see his death. The only person with him was Keith and a nurse.

"Hey Keith?" Lance spoke with a strained inhale.

"Yes?" Keith's face was calm and relaxed.

Lance took a shallow breath, "Do you...do you think I'm special?"

Keith furrowed his brows. "You know my answer is yes, but I'm guessing that's not what you're asking."

Lance shook his head and let out a pitiful cough. "I mean," after every couple of words, Lance took in a wheezing breath, "Do you think...that I...changed something?"

"Changed something?" Keith tilted his head.

"Did my life," he coughed and hacked, "mean anything?"

Keith leaned over to kiss his forehead. "Of course it did."

"For...what?" He gave Keith a panicked look. His eyes shimmered with tears, "Am I gonna die in vain?"

Keith's face stayed silent. He slowly shook his head. "No, you won't." He placed a hand on Lance's bony cheek, "I just know that something good will come out of this."

Lance's eyes had become depressed lakes in his skull. They were dark and sunken in. He couldn't keep them open anymore and fought for the right to focus on Keith. "Promise?"

Keith nodded and kissed his dulled hair, "Yes. I promise."

Lance lied there and took in strained breathes for a minute. Keith asked the nurse if he was allowed to lay with him, and she nodded with tears in her eyes. He slowly and gently made a place for himself beside Lance and hugged his head to his chest. They had removed his oxygen mask as to not draw out his death longer than it needed to be. They gave him numerous drugs and simply left him. Just left him to die. How sick.

The only reason Keith was able to contain his anger was because he couldn't feel anything at all. He waited for any sort of emotion to come. He wished for a laugh or a smile–even tears, but nothing came. His face stayed in the same neutral position while the rest of his body cracked under all of the pent up heartbreak.

"Hey," Lance tried to cling to Keith's shirt with his failing hands.

"Hmm?"

Lance lifted his head to look up at him, "Thank you...for loving me."

Keith leaned down to kiss him, "I only wish I had found you sooner."

Lance's head dropped back down and his grip loosened as his muscles gave out. "Yeah," he smiled and closed his eyes. "But I'm... ...I'm glad I... ... ...glad I met you."

With his final breath, Lance's heart stopped. It was quiet. The heart rate monitor let out a single tone. Just a long beep. A never ending punch to the stomach. The nurse went around and turned off all the machines one by one. Keith lied in the bed holding Lance as he flinched at every push of a different power button.

Keith's world crashed down on him. Lance was gone. He wasn't going to wake up this time. Lance's body was silent. It had no heartbeat. No breathing. It was just silent. His thin frame sat limp in Keith's arms. The nurse let him lie there with Lance for a while. She held back her own tears.

Keith cradled Lance's silent head and kissed his hair. He wasn't ready. Keith wasn't ready to go yet. He wasn't ready to not hear Lance's laugh anymore. He wasn't ready to not touch him again. Keith wasn't ready. He held Lance's body tighter and waited for the tears that never came.

"Mr. McClain," the nurse placed her hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, but he's gone."

"I know." Keith pet Lance's brittle hair. He looked down at his empty face and stroked his cheek. "I love you."

Mark was sitting in the waiting room. Even though Lance told him to leave, he stayed until the end. He jumped up with a hopeful smile when he saw Keith. Keith stopped walking at the end of the hall and shook his head. Mark's smile dropped and he sat back down to hold his head in his hands. Keith went up and sat next to him, placing a hand on his back. Comforting him seemed like the only thing he could do. Maybe Keith could call Mark his friend one day.

Lance was buried in the dress Keith picked out for his proposal. The funeral went by in a blur until it was Keith's turn to give his speech. He stood and buttoned his suit jacket, walking up to the stage. Keith took a deep breath and scanned the crowd. Lance had more family than Keith had realized. The only ones there who weren't related to him were Hunk and Pidge.

Keith held up his head and stuffed his shaking hands in his pockets. It took a few moments for his voice to finally come out. "Lance once told me that people like to leave their marks on the world—however small they may be." Keith looked over at the picture of a smiling Lance with flowers in his hair. "The gods know that he's touched every one of us." The crowd nodded and hummed in agreement.

Keith found it annoying. What had these crying people ever done to help Lance? He tore his eyes away from them and focused on the casket. "Lance believed he was small. That he was insignificant. I only wish he knew how much of a lie that was. You see, Lance was a beautiful flower growing in a pool of lava." Keith could feel his throat tighten. He rushed the speech. "I just know he's going to be part of something great. Thank you." Keith quickly stepped down from the stage and walked out the doors.

He could feel sprinkles of wet snow fall on his face as he stared up at the sky. His eyes stung and his breathing hitched.

"Keith?" Mark placed a hand on his shoulder.

Keith kept his eyes up, "He's gone, Mark." A tear fell down his cheek, "He's really gone this time."

Mark pulled Keith into a hug, "Yeah, he is."

Keith cried into Mark's suit as the light snow wet his hair. "He's dead!" His chest jerked and he clung to his jacket. "What am I supposed to do?! I'm never gonna see him again!"

Mark held him tighter, "It's okay, man. You'll get through this." He let go to place a fist over Keith's chest, "You're a McClain now." He gave him a smile. "And we're fighters."