Voltron One Shots

Satisfied

Summary: Lance has everything he's ever wanted in life. 

A/N: I'm currently on a social media break for mental health reasons, but I wanted to post this real quick before I leave again. I'm sorry for not being active, but I just need some time.

Trigger warning: suicidal thoughts, self harm

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Lance has never wanted much. As child he craved attention. He craved love and validation for all the hard work he did. As a teenage, Lance feared that this would never happen. At the garrison he was constantly ignored, even though he worked hard and improved rapidly. He was one of the top pilots there, and still, no one recognized him. Even his rival couldn't remember his name.

But then that all changed.

When he became a paladin of Voltron people began to notice his hard work. They praised him for his skills and his accomplishments. People across the universe know who he is. They cheer for him in the streets when he steps out of his lion. Their praises fill his chest with warmth. It climbs up his throat and spills over his mouth in the form of a smile. Every comment, every acknowledgement of his skills were like a weight lifted off his chest.

Lance had never been happier.

His teammates even saw Lance for who he really was. They supported him and appreciate him for everything he brought to the team. They noticed his strengths. They laughed at his jokes, they didn't call him annoying or think he was a bother, like so many had before. 

Everything in Lance's life was going exactly the way he wanted it to.

"Amazing job today, Lance" Shiro said, patting Lance on the back. "Seriously, we couldn't have done that without you and your sharpshooting abilities" Lance beamed. 

"Thanks" he said. "You did amazing too. I mean, that swingy move with your robot arm?" Lance swung his arm down in front of him, imitating what he had seen Shiro do earlier. "That was awesome!" Shiro laughed at Lance's impression of him.

"Thank you" He crossed his arms. "You should get some rest before training tomorrow. Seriously, you did some good work today" Lance grinned and glanced at his feet bashfully. 

"Okay, I will. And thank you" Lance turned and headed down the hall to his room, the smile still on his face. He passed Hunk and Pidge as he walked. 

"Heading to bed?" Hunk asked. Lance nodded.

"Yeah, gotta rest up before training tomorrow" he flexed his arm with a smirk. "Don't get this way by sleepin' in" Pidge snorted.

"Okay, see you in the morning" Hunk said, waving at him. Lance nodded and continued on to his room. Lance turned the corner and headed to his room, the smile still bright on his face. 

After entering his room Lance busied himself with his nighttime routine. He grabbed a fresh change of clothes and then headed into the bathroom. He put the clothes in the bathroom counter and then paused.

Everything was going Lance's way. Everything was perfect. Lance couldn't think of a single thing that he could ever want.

Lance stared at himself in the mirror, watching how his bright smile dimmed until it slipped completely off his face. Here, in the silence of his room, he could let everything fall away.

Lance had everything he could ever ask for.

And it still wasn't enough.

Without another thought Lance reached into the bottom drawer next to his sink and pulled out the blade. He lifted the hem of his shirt and stared at the rows and rows that lined his stomach. Some were fresh, the skin around the jagged scars was raised slightly. Lance ran his finger across a particularly large one. He felt numb. 

He didn't understand it. He had everything he'd ever wanted. He had people who loved and cared for him, and yet he was still unhappy. It wasn't enough. He faked it as much as he could, hoping that maybe someday it would be true, but it didn't work. Nothing worked. Lance cut himself just to feel something.

With a quick flick of the wrist Lance ran the blade across his skin, slicing it open. He sucked in a sharp breath and then dropped the blade onto the counter. As Lance watched his blood drip down his body and onto the floor, he considered ending it all. What was the point of being alive anymore? Before he could tell himself that if he could just hold on a little while longer, just until he had this or that. Until people respected him. Until people took him seriously. Until someone loved him. But now, now that Lance had all that and more, he had no more excuses. He was living day to day, waiting for night. Waiting for a few hours of sleep when he got a reprieve from everything.

He had everything.

Why wasn't it enough?