Voltron One Shots

Attempts

Summary: Lance attempted something bad, and now he must attempt something good. Why are things that are good for you always so hard to do?

A/N: I apologize for continuously promising new fics and then never posting them. My motivation to finish anything has been -1 in the last 6 months. I'm not announcing when I'm going to post fics anymore because it stresses me out and then my motivation vanishes and I can't write anymore lol. 

P.s. I am rusty so I apologize for the occasional scatterbrainedness. I'm just happy I finished the damn thing lmao.

P.p.s. Sorry I haven't gotten to the wattpad one-sentence prompts. Again, -1 motivation. I'll try my best to write them.

Trigger warnings: suicide attempt, suicidal thoughts, overdose, drowning

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Lance woke up in a daze, his head half submerged under the water. He opened his mouth and he began to choke. His eyes widened and he tried to sit up but found that he couldn't. He thrashed around, trying to pull himself out of the water. His arms hit something solid. He braced them against the walls and drug himself upright so that his head was out of the water. 

Still feel groggy, Lance threw his upper half over the wall and looked around, trying to understand what was happening. He saw that his feet were tied together with a rope, which was also tied to the shower head. Fear gripped his chest as Lance shook his head over and over. He weakly reached over to untie the ropes, nearly falling back into the bathtub as he did. It took several minutes of his fumbling around to finally be able to slip his feet out of them. He scrambled to get out of the tub, falling onto the hard floor and sending a pile of pill bottles flying across the floor, spilling the contents of them. The little blue pills scattered all across the floor. Lance lay face down on the floor without moving as he tried to catch his breath. His heart was beating so hard in his chest that he thought it might explode. His head was spinning and it felt like it was full of cotton. 

Finally Lance felt strong enough to push himself up. He reached for a towel off the hook on the wall and loosely wrapped it around his shoulders. His entire body felt like it was on fire but he was so cold at the same time. The cold water that had sloshed out of the tub seemed to seep into Lance's bones. He coughed violently, trying to get the remaining water out of his lungs and then froze. He slowly looked around at the scene around him.

The pills.

The tub.

The rope.

It was only then that he truly realized what had almost happened.

Lance began to moan quietly and shake his head. Water droplets fell from his head and slid down his face. Lance wept silently as he shakily tried to stand up. He had to get out of there. He had to tell someone. He had to do something. He had tried so long to keep and thoughts and feelings to himself.

Look where that got him.

Lance tried to stand up too quickly and slipped on the water. He fell hard onto the floor, bouncing his head off the tiles. He gasped in pain and felt blood begin to gush out of the wound on his forehead. After allowing himself a few more moments to cry Lance began to, slowly this time, peel himself off the floor. When he was finally on his feet Lance slowly shuffled out of the bathroom, kicking pills across the floor the whole time. 

He continued to cry as he exited his room. He didn't know where he was going, he just knew that he couldn't be alone anymore. He had to get help.

That's how Keith found him, standing outside his door at four in the morning, wearing nothing but a pair of soaking wet underwear and a damp towel. Keith's mouth fell open as he stared at Lance's disheveled appearance. Blood rushing down his face, pills clinging to his wet hair. Without speaking a word Keith ushered Lance inside and guided him to the bed.