2019 Voltron Whumptober Collection

10 Unconscious

Dang it.

"Keith, you better wake up." With that he dove in, stumbling further into the collapse, fingers digging into the rocks and pebbles where he hoped the teen was, only to come up empty.

So he just kept digging.

And digging.

And digging.

Hunk's gloves were beginning to tear at the tips, his fingertips sore and scratched when he finally came across something that was for sure not the endless lilac rocks that have been staring him square in the face for who knows how long now.

Instead.

It was blood.

Bright red and fresh.

If it had been Lance in this situation, Hunk was sure the teen would've cursed up something fierce at the sight of it.

Shiro would've gone into a panic.

Pidge struggling to push away rocks nearly the size of her.

But, of course, Hunk was Hunk.

And Hunk just dug faster.

It took several agonizing minutes to clear the rest of the rubble away, his efforts doubling as he pulled another good-sized chunk out of the way to uncover the battered remains of the red paladin helmet, the visor cracked and shattered, the helmet itself crushed to infinity, frayed wires sparking into the air, the armor of the helmet now a dusted red-purple mess.

His heart jumped to his throat.

Hunk struggled to push away a boulder nearly the size of him, out of breath as the thing finally rolled away.

And then he looked down-

"Oh my God, Keith!"

Hunk's stomach lurched, acid tickling his throat at the sight of his leader lying limp on the ground at his feet.

The teen didn't look good.

Far from it actually.

With Keith's head being unprotected when the rocks came down, nearly half his face was covered in his own blood, crimson leaking sluggishly from a head wound, dark hair plastered to his head, the black locks sheening a faint red. His equally red armor was now dusty, dented, and cracked, some of it torn away completely to show deep wounds brought on by the rockslide, painting the white of his armor a deep scarlet.

As he fought to keep his sudden sickness of the sight in check, Hunk forced away the remaining debris, revealing Keith's left arm to be twisted at an awkward angle. His violet eyes were closed, looking strangely blissful for the macabre state he was in.

No.

No, no, no, no, Hunk, now was not the time to puke.

Keith needed help.

He had to do something.

"Keith?" He tapped his leader's face with a bloodied finger (oh, God, blood, he hates blood, he must've gotten it on him moving the rocks away), painting pale skin with red, making the teen look even paler in the planet's light.

He didn't stir.

Hunk tried again, "Keith, man, buddy, could you wake up for me? Please?" He didn't know what to do, what should he do? He couldn't move him, well- he could move him, but there's probably an internal injury somewhere because there was no way he wouldn't have one after all that, so he couldn't move him unless he knew for sure. He needed to know exactly what he was dealing with, and the only way to do that was to try and rouse the teen (he definitely had a concussion, he shouldn't even be asleep) so he can say exactly what was wrong with him.