2019 Voltron Whumptober Collection

24 Secret Injury

He'd had the grace of no calls for Voltron or piloting the lions to assist in coalition errands across the universe.

If he wasn't hurt, he probably would've enjoyed the time off just a little more than he was.

Instead, he was stuck clutching his arm in the darkness of his room, ears straining for the moment those alarms would sound and he'd have to slip on his paladin armor and rush to the lions, arm screaming at him all the way.

Do you have any idea how hard it is to ride a zipline one-handed?

He didn't either, but he sure as hell didn't want to find out.

So he just sat.

And waited.

Waited for the impossible moment when he'd have to make his injury known to the others. Waited for the second they'd find out he was being pathetic all because he was hiding a broken arm from their prying eyes.

Waited for the lecture most likely coming his way when Shiro caught sight of how pathetic he was acting.

Maybe he should-

No, he told himself, biting his lip, no, he wouldn't admit defeat, he- he could do this.

He wouldn't be weak.

He couldn't.

"Paladins, please head down to the training deck."

Keith nearly jumped out of his skin when Shiro's voice echoed over the castle's system, biting down a yell when his arm throbbed at the motion.

Fuck.

Training.

He'd nearly forgotten about that. Shiro being Shiro, he probably wanted them to keep their skills sharp, just because they were currently floating in space with no calls for help didn't mean that couldn't change in the blink of an eye, even Keith knew that.

Why do you think he'd been training in the first place?

With a groan, he hauled himself to his feet, trying his best to muffle his whimpers as he slipped into his armor, the wristband snapping into place nearly making him shout.

He faltered a second before he reached out to grab his bayard, the thing still sitting innocently on the floor from when he'd thrown it at the wall the second he'd made it to his room after hurting his arm.

His right arm.

His dominant arm.

Fuck.

This was going to be harder to pull off than he'd thought.

Hesitantly, Keith reached out, grasping the thing in his left hand, the bayard fitting uncomfortably in his palm as he gave it a few experimental swings.

They were mediocre at best.

Fuck.

This was going to suck.

With that thought running rampant through his mind, Keith carefully made his way to the training deck, stomach churning, arm throbbing with every step, and he clenched his teeth together to keep from screaming as he nearly tripped over his feet, his uninjured hand going out to try and catch himself before he hit the floor, relief filling him when he didn't fall.

It was slow-going, he was very much aware of that, but he'd take just a little progress over none.

He was the last to make it there, by the time he stepped foot the white and teal colored room his arm was a continuous throb of pain, pulsing in time with his heartbeat, his muscles sore. It took all of his willpower right then to not break down in front of everyone, just barely managing to lock it inside before the yell escaped his lips.