Newfound Armor

Keith sat on his bed, the armor he wore growing heavy. He stared down at his reflection in the helmet that he held between his hands.
Faintly purple eyes stared back. His eyes. His face. But it didn't really look like it. Not in the black, at least.
This wasn't supposed to happen, he thought, shaking his head and shutting his eyes, his reflection becoming unbearable to look at.
"I can't do this," he whispered. He began to feel hot inside, a burning in his chest.
I can't lead a team, I can't lead Voltron.
Frustration racked his brain, anger rising as he clenched his jaw.
I'm not a leader. I'm not a hero.
His eyes began to sting from the frustration. His grip tightened with anger, his head hurting from too many thoughts flooding in.
What were you thinking?
He thought of Shiro's voice in his head, telling him to lead Voltron.
You can't leave me to do this.
He wanted to scream, his head was pounding.
I'm not you, Shiro.
It felt like venom was running in his blood.
I can't do this!
His thoughts rang and repeated in his mind, until he couldn't take it anymore.
He whipped the helmet at the door, which opened automatically as it rolled out into the hallway before closing again.
He ignored the loud clang echoing outside his room as the helmet clattered to the ground, Keith realizing he was holding his breath before letting out a deep sigh when turning, a mirror stopping him.
He swallowed while looking over his reflection, his focus moving down over what he wore.
Thanks to it's functionality and ability to size to any paladin, the black armor fit perfectly, just as red did.
Of course, it didn't feel the same.
Just looking at his reflection made the armor feel like a weight, like an extra burden left on his shoulders.
Like a reminder of Shiro.
Keith reached out, placing a hand on the mirror over his face to cover it. He tried to think of Shiro's face held high atop of the armor instead of his own, an image that looked much better in his head.
He sighed at the thought and dropped his chin, his eyes staring down at the floor, tired of seeing the sharp black replace where the red once was.
"Please don't leave me," he whispered as if talking to Shiro. He was already gone, of course, but he spoke as if believing that a part of him still was there. A part that was still inside of Keith, that light of hope and welcoming that he always felt when he was around.
After all, Shiro was his anchor. A vision of safety, of home, and Keith tried to desperately hold onto every memory of him, keeping it close in his mind and heart. Keith needed his brother back.
And wearing this armor- your armor- He closed his eyes again.
Shiro would be proud of him. Flash a smile, give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, tell him that the black suits him.
And Keith would smile back. Because even though he was wearing his armor, Shiro would still be standing beside him.
But now Keith was alone. And nothing felt right, his gut twisting.
Felt like he was a rushed replacement, an empty shell.
Because Shiro was his true armor.
Keith whipped his head around as he heard his room doors slide open behind him.
"I think you dropped something," Lance smiled sheepishly, walking over and holding out the black helmet.
Keith let out a breath, looking at it in his hands.
"Right. Thanks," he muttered, Lance watching him grab and toss it on his bed without a thought.
Lance hadn't seen Keith in the black armor yet. He tried not to make it obvious while looking over him, as if getting his eyes used to the new color on his teammate. but Keith looked too distracted notice.
He concluded that the black was a nice change. Not too bad, he thought. Sharp. Lance couldn't help but wonder if he himself looked better in red than blue.
"Alrighty then, I'll uh, see you out there Keith," Lance said, shaking away the thought and clapping his hands, breaking the silence that was thickly hanging in the air. He slowed down as he turned away, waiting for some response before heading out.
But Keith didn't say anything, too busy staring at the helmet in his hands with a stern focus.
"O-kay," Lance said more to himself, pivoting on his heel to leave the bedroom.
"Lance," Keith began, bringing up his chin.
"Yeah?" Lance turned his head, rather quickly, finding Keith's eyes looking at him, no, searching through him, as if needing him to give an answer that Keith had silently asked. But instead he watched him take an exhausted breath, then shake his head.
"Um. Nevermind," he said, looking away.
Lance stayed standing, glancing at the mirror to see Keith's face. He looked torn. Tense, and torn.
Lance knew Keith was closed up. All arms-crossed and serious-faced. But he also noticed how close he was to Shiro. He always seemed to soften when at his side, looking in his direction as if to make sure he was still close by. And Lance was just now realizing how difficult it was for him to know that he was gone. He seemed extra hard and stone faced when around the other paladins, his shoulders uptight and quiet.
But now seeing Keith hunched over on his bed, his black hair even more messy than usual from the countless times of running his fingers through it, Lance can see that Shiro's disappearance didn't really harden Keith, but the opposite.
It was like he was now an unraveled spool of thread, completely loose and at loss, unsure of what to do.
Even though he first thought that the black armor looked sharp, he also was beginning to wonder how difficult it was for him to wear it.
"Keith," Lance began softly, sympathetic for the boy. He hesitated when deciding to take a seat next to him, sitting down when Keith didn't move to say otherwise. He paused for a moment, thinking of what to say.
The two weren't super close, but they were teammates. Even though Lance won't admit it, he'd call Keith a friend.
Being on an alien ship-castle stuck in space fighting to save the galaxy can really bring people together. And with such a big goal in mind, it also has a lot of risks. Sometimes Lance worries that he might lose a teammate, and he'd come to terms with the fact that if that were to happen, it would be like losing more than a fellow paladin, including Keith.
After all, the two had been through quite a bit together. Stuck in an elevator, fighting hay wired robots, battling their way through missions. Admittedly, they make a good team.
But seeing Keith in this state of loss, not giving any backhanded remarks or competitive teasing, he knew he needed someone to talk to, no matter how many walls he keeps up.
"Are you alright?" He finally asked, already aware of how not alright he was. Just looking at Keith's profile, chin hung low, this close up he could see the sadness and stress in his eyes.
Lance waited patiently as he watched Keith close them for a second.
"Do you think," he started weakly, before clearing his throat and retrying. He was going to ask how Lance thought of it all, of Keith piloting the black lion. But he honestly didn't want to hear what Lance thought of it, worried that he's also disappointed in the decision. Keith was already disappointed in himself just wearing the armor.
He decided to just say what he thought.
"I don't think I can do this," he said quietly, while the words echoed in his head so loudly.
Lance didn't say anything for a long tick. He didn't know what to say.
Lance saw Keith as an impulsive, action-chasing, sword-swinging action figure. And yes, sometimes those characteristics have caused some trouble, but Keith always went into these things with surety. Maybe not surety of making it out alive, but surety that he wasn't going down without a fight, a single goal in mind and his stubbornness making sure that no obstacle is going to slow him down.
But there was a lot of heavy doubt in Keith's voice, and Lance could hear every ounce of how straining Shiro's loss was for him.
Of course leading Voltron is a big deal, and yeah, Lance would really like to fly the black lion, but obviously piloting the head of Voltron isn't an easy task.
But he also knew that it wasn't a one man job. And even if Keith was a lone wolf or whatever, they finish each mission together.
And that's exactly what the boy needed; a reminder that he's not alone in this.
"Keith, look at me."
"Lance," Keith sighed out, starting to regret saying anything to begin with.
"No I'm serious Keith, look at me."
He let out a tired sigh, turning to face Lance. Those bright blue eyes, usually laughing, turned serious.
"You will never be Shiro-" he began.
"Wow, you're really going for the pep talk of the year award-"
"Shut up I'm not finished," Lance hit Keith's shoulder, annoyed at being interrupted, but not helping a slight smile. There was bound to be at least one snarky comment left in him, and Lance was for once glad to hear it.
"Hey don't hit me," Keith said, hitting back.
"I'm not hitting you, I'm just-" he hit his shoulder again. "Tapping your shoulder."
"That's not tapping," he hit him again.
"Stop, it's just-"
"No, it's hitting-"
They went back and forth hitting each other like two toddlers fighting over absolutely nothing.
"Are we seriously doing this right now?" Lance said, continuing the hitting.
"You started it," Keith said annoyedly, giving another smack to his arm.
Lance finally was the first to stop, holding up his hands like a surrender. "Okay, okay-"
Keith hit him once more.
"Stop it!" he scolded, rubbing his shoulder where Keith had repeatedly hit him.
"What I'm trying to say, is that you will never be Shiro- don't hit me," Lance pointed a finger, Keith reluctantly remaining still, crossing his arms.
"Because no one will ever be Shiro."
Keith took the time to look at him, actually listening.
"Don't-" Lance sighed, beginning to think of himself.
"Don't think of yourself as a replacement," he started slowly.
"Don't think that, that you're stuck in this shadow, where people want you to be someone you're not, and loads of expectations are thrown at you so it just seems impossible," Lance looked down at Keith's hands, then to his, not noticing Keith's gaze look over Lance's face.
"Because you're not a replacement. You're you, Keith-"
Keith snorted, "thanks.".
"Hey, that's a good thing," Lance said, putting a hand on Keith's shoulder.
"And maybe, yeah you're a bit impulsive,"
Keith shrugged a shoulder, truthfully.
"And sometimes leap without looking,"
"Okay-"
"A little stubborn-"
"Alright-"
"Very hot-headed-"
"Lance," Keith warned, getting the point.
"But you're brave. And courageous, probably too much for your own good. And skilled, like, how do you know how to use a sword so easily, did you practice in your Texan hut or something?"
Keith shook his head, but Lance noticed the small smile on Keith's face, running a hand through his hair.
"That's what makes you great leader, Keith. That bravery makes you dedicated, and strong. And we all see that, and we'll follow that bravery."
"Unless it gets us killed, of course," he muttered, Keith rolling his eyes.
But Lance returned it with a reassuring smile.
"We're always here for you," he said.
Keith looked up, and Lance could see his eyes clearly. No more hurt and stress clouding his eyes, now just a clear, deep violet color. Lance had never noticed how shiny they were. Like the galaxy. Pretty.
"And you know, it's not just you on these missions. I bet being the head of Voltron is probably a lot, but, you gotta remember you're not alone. When you're stuck in a rut, I got your back. We got your back."
Lance nudged his shoulder.
"We're not just teammates, Keith. We're friends. All of us."
Keith looked back down.
"Yeah," he said quietly, looking down with a slight smile. He knows he's got some walls up, closes himself in when around the other paladins. He never really thought he fit in with everyone else, Lance of all people, who he thought hated him.
But right now, Keith felt better with him here.
"C'mon," Lance said, standing up to face him, holding out a hand.
Keith looked at it with a raised brow.
"Just get up," he said, rolling his eyes and waving his fingers.
Keith took his hand, pulling himself up to his feet.
"Look," Lance pointed to the mirror, Keith swallowing when seeing his reflection again. He was just now noticing Lance in the red armor. It looked good on him.
"Hey, not too bad, right?" Lance smirked, snapping finger guns at their reflection, striking a pose.
Keith let out a laugh, pushing away his finger guns.
"Yeah. Red suits you," He said.
Lance wasn't actually expecting him to agree let alone a compliment, surprised for a moment before rubbing a hand behind his neck.
"Oh, thanks. Not too bad yourself," he softly laughed out, patting a hand on his shoulder.
Keith quirked a brow at the compliment.
"Don't get used to it," Lance muttered, looking away from Keith.
They stood next to each other awkwardly for a moment.
"So uh, I think I'm gonna get outta here," Lance said, taking a step away from Keith, realizing how close they were standing next to each other.
"You wanna-?" He pointed out the door, Keith shaking his head.
"I'll be out in a minute," he said.
Lance nodded his head, reaching over Keith's bed and turning around to face him again with the black helmet in hand.
"And uh, try not to hurl this out the door anymore," he said, tossing it to Keith who caught it in his hands.
"Oh, you saw that?" He asked, feeling a bit guilty.
Lance tilted his head. "Ah, well. I've never really heard anything roll out that loudly," he said awkwardly, hoping Keith doesn't think that Lance just stands outside of his room like a creep. He honestly was just passing by when a loud clang rang through the halls.
"Right. My bad," Keith said, sheepishly.
Lance just gave a forgiving smile, giving a salute with the nod of his head before turning to walk out.
"Hey Lance," Keith said grabbing his attention.
"Thank you," he said, meaning it genuinely.
Lance smiled. "No problem, Keith," he said, about to step out of the room when Keith moved towards him. "And Lance..."
He waited patiently as Keith awkwardly placed his free hand on his shoulder, trying hard to maintain eye contact, Lance seeing violet eyes soften.
"You're not a replacement either."
Wow, did he make it that obvious? Lance thought.
"You're not in anyone's shadow. I mean you said it yourself, no one can be Shiro," Keith shrugged a shoulder, oblivious to the fact that Shiro was not the person Lance was comparing himself to.
"People like you for you, Lance. You're... You're more important to the team than you may think," And Keith gave a small smile.
He wasn't good at comforting people, but those words seemed right. And he truly meant them.
And Lance was a bit surprised. And then he smiled back.
Those were the words he'd been wishing to hear for a long time, and Keith of all people was the one to say them.
And so Lance stepped forward and closed him into a hug.
Keith wasn't used to hugs, or really any physical contact. He was never really sure where to put his arms, or how long these things lasted. But Lance's embrace was somehow different. He was only an inch taller than Keith, but maybe that was enough to feel like a perfect fit for his head to go over his shoulder. Enough for him to close his eyes for a moment and realize that hugs weren't so bad.
He was tense at first from the sudden closeness, Lance wondering for a moment if this was a bad move, but the thought went away when he felt his arms slowly place on his back. There was a small part of Keith wishing that he wasn't holding the helmet so he could use both hands to hold onto Lance. So he was careful, his gentleness almost making Lance laugh thinking of how quick and ready the boy is when it comes to slicing enemies with a blade. But when he felt his chin lower slightly on his shoulder, Lance held a little a tighter, a little longer.
"Thank you, Keith," he said quietly.
"No problem," he replied.
Then Lance let go with kind smile, his blue eyes shining again.
"Meet you out there," Lance said taking a step back, the warmth between them fading away and Lance wondered briefly if he felt it too. Missed it, even.
And Keith did. Not that he'd say that out loud, of course. He only nodded his head at his words, watching Lance give a small wave before walking out.
Letting out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, he watched the doors close behind him then turned around.
He looked at the mirror again, and this time, held up his chin. He saw his face clearly, shoulders brought back as the armor felt much lighter than before, the helmet he held in his hands no longer a dead weight.
He felt that warmth again, felt arms hold him close like a welcome. A feeling of stability, a reminder that he's not alone.
And inside, Keith felt that little shine of light in his chest again.