Lance bit his lip as he made his way down the hall, eyes darting around to observe the familiar flood of people walking around him. His fingers dug aimlessly into the cover of his textbook.
His nerves were high as he neared his classroom, he could barely stand to face the people he knew. It was all too much, he didn't want any of this. He didn't want any of them. Not when they did so little for him but so much to him.
You see, Lance was someone that you would call popular. He genuinely enjoyed people and loved to make others happy. Essentially everyone knew him, knew that he was a person they could turn to or just simply converse with.
He was happy most of the time, quick to laugh, flirt, and joke around. He would help people to his own detriment. Because his nature was so caring and accepting, most of his peers had grown to admire him.
It was unfortunate that he couldn't see how many people cared for him in return.
All Lance could ever fathom was that he was just another useless popular person, or worse yet, a nuisance. He thought this was mostly due to the fact that he was never anyone's first choice. He had dozens and dozens of friends, but yet he never found himself being the first to be asked to hang out. It was always someone else.
He didn't hold this against anyone, he was aware that he was a natural second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, or even seventh wheel. That was just who he was.
Most days Lance could ignore this fact, he could disregard it and be happy. But this wasn't one of those days. He felt as though no one needed him. No one cared.
Far too soon, Lance stood in front of the door to his classroom. He wasn't going to let this get in his way. His lips quirked up in a false smile, and he sauntered in, dropping his stuff on his desk in a carefree manner and starting light conversation with his classmates.
He hated himself for this. He wished desperately that he had someone to turn to in times like this, that he could just speak his mind. But no. He was the person other people turned to. He had no one to return the favor.
Of course, there was always Hunk or Pidge, but neither of them would understand. They would write him off like they always did. He was Lance. He couldn't possibly have any problems. He was perfect.
The class passed by uneventfully, giving Lance the perfect time to think. Think about his uselessness. He didn't want to think, but did his mind care? No.
When there were two more minutes left before the bell rang, he was approached by another student. He had surprisingly been left alone up till then, and he tossed one of his dazzling smiles at the man, saddened by the fact that he couldn't force it to be bigger, happier.
"H-hi." The student spoke quietly, and as Lance inspected the other more, he came to the realization that he knew him.
It was Keith. Pidge's best friend. One of Lance's eyebrows rose in question, confused as to why Pidge's friend would be coming up to him like this.
"Lance... I..." Keith struggled to find words as he averted eye contact, crossing his arms in nervousness.
"Yep, what is it? What'd ya need?" Lance replied with false ease, his face a façade of cheerfulness.
"I was wondering if... ah, this probably sounds really weird, I'm sorry... I wanted to ask if you are okay? You seem... off, today." Keith's hands shook, he was afraid of doing what he was doing, but then again, he was terribly impulsive.
"You been watchin' me?" Lance quipped, smirking playfully, trying to avoid the question he knew he didn't have a proper answer to.
"I-I.... uh... just shut up." Keith scowled, his face flushing in embarrassment.
"I'm fine." Lance grinned deciding to just lie. It was the easiest option.
Keith looked at him dubiously, as if he didn't believe him. But before anymore words could be uttered, though, the bell rang and Lance was out of the classroom in a heart beat.
---
After that encounter, Keith and Lance had become some sort of friends. Months passed with them hanging out, Pidge and Hunk supporting the new development entirely.
Lance was beyond appreciative of the new close friend, he felt that he could finally go to someone with his problems. Before he could do anything about it, though, Lance had realized that he had fallen for his hotheaded, impetuous friend.
He didn't know what to do about his feelings. If anything, they made him feel worse about himself. He had unintentionally become clingy and protective when it came to Keith. It bothered himself more than anyone else, but he believed it was the other way around.
After befriending Lance, Keith had grown to be popular. He now had friends to turn to, and Lance despised his thoughts on that. He didn't want Keith to have friends, because then he would just leave Lance behind. Lance would become an afterthought-- again. It was unavoidable.
Keith showed no inkling of feelings for the taller teen. Lance had even ventured far enough to ask Pidge about the whole ordeal. From what he learned, Keith only thought of him as a friend.
---
The school year ended all too soon, and another one began. Lance was falling apart on the inside. Over the summer Keith had began to drift. Lance had expected it, though.
There was no way Keith could stay with someone who had so little to offer.
When the new year began, the friendship Keith and Lance had formed was all but ruble. Lance was devastated, and yet he still loved the other so dearly.
Lance's popularity had started to fall. He could no longer always pull a fake smile, and that didn't please the masses. His spirits were low and he tried to turn to his family for help.
All they did was smile and attempt to comfort him, but were distracted the second more pressing matters arose. No one could make time for him.
There came a time, near the end of the school year, that Lance's smile was gone. He couldn't bring himself to feel happy. No one cared. No one even noticed his slow disappearance. Everyone was too busy.
He decided one day, in the middle of class no less, that he was tired. Now, he had been tired for quite some time, but he couldn't take it anymore.
The pain was agonizing, he loved a person who had abandoned him, he was left by the people he trusted. He was betrayed.
He was done. His mind was made up. He wasn't going to go on.
---
Two days later and Lance sat at his desk, messily writing his goodbyes out onto paper. Tears fell from his eyes and stained the ink below him.
A distraction came suddenly when his phone chimed, he was surprised to hear the sound, as hadn't heard it in so long. He tried to think of the last time he had, but his memory failed him.
It was Keith. He bit his lip in anxiousness, checking the text and his heart dropped in his chest as he read the words.
Keith: hey, Lance, you got a minute? I'm not doing so great rn
He debated on whether or not to help, Keith didn't deserve Lance's help after the countless times he had been ignored. But who was he kidding? Of course he'd help. That was who he was.
Lance: yeah, sure man, what's up?
Was Lance's deceptively cheery reply, as he continued to scribble his last thoughts onto the pages.
Keith: thanks, i just am feeling kinda down
Lance's lips turned up in a cynical smile, he was shocked that he was even able to do so much. Of course Keith was feeling down.
Lance: ah, sorry dude, what can I do to help?
Lance typed out and went back to writing, finishing up his letter for Hunk and then folding it neatly and sliding it into a crisp envelope. Oh how kind Hunk had been to him.
Keith: just talk to me, please?
Lance's eyes lingered on the words. Would this really be the last conversation he was having? Helping someone? Of course it was. This is what he does.
Lance: yep! Sure ;3
Lance: whatcha wanna talk bout?
Lance frowned. He hated pretending. More tears fell.
Keith: hey, I'm really sorry we've been kinda distant recently
Keith: ive been busy
Lance sighed. Busy with people-- other people. He could hardly believe that no one had noticed his pain. It was so dreadfully obvious.
His hand began to shake as he wrote his last letter. It was to Keith.
Lance: it's aight dude, I understand, no prob ;)))
Lance wished he had the guts to tell Keith just how much of a lie that was. But he couldn't find it in himself to do so. It wasn't Keith's fault; or rather, it was, but Lance didn't blame him.
Keith: so, how've you been?
I've been horrible. Lance thought in distaste, finishing off the word he was writing before replying.
Lance: I've been great, you know, the usual
More tears.
Keith: that's good, so what are you doing?
Lance: just chillin
Lance was finding it hard to talk to Keith any longer. His entire being shook in devastation. He felt guilty. He felt selfish. But then, he also felt that this was the only way.
Keith: thats good, hey, I gotta go now, sorry
Lance's face twisted in and odd sort of desperation. Keith had texted him for help and now he was leaving? But then, Lance couldn't be surprised. This happened often.
Lance: aight, well, I hope you feel better soon :)
Keith didn't respond after that. Lance smiled sadly at the thought. Of course. His hand could barely write properly, and his eyesight was blurring from the tears. He finished the note as soon as he could, packing it away in its envelope and setting it below all the rest in an orderly pile.
Lance stood up from his seat, opening his window to climb out on his roof before jumping off the lowest point to start his trek into the woods behind his house. He was familiar with this forest; he had grown up playing amongst the trees.
He, as well as his siblings, had claimed a specific tree as his own. They all had one. It was stupid, sure, but Lance found it nice. He loved his tree dearly. He had never learned what kind of tree his was, but it didn't matter.
He walked mindlessly, knowing the way by heart. His lips quivered, the tears had never ended.
His tree came in view and a smile worked its way on his lips. Old Angeline. He thought, feeling nostalgic as he patted the aged, worn bark. He had no idea why his child self had named the tree that.
Lance shakily made his way to a rope he had piled beside the trunk, untangling it and tying it up securely. He pulled a small chair he and his brother had left there long ago over and situated it below the hanging rope.
Tears fell from his eyes as he climbed up onto the chair. He felt selfish, but then again, no one actually cared. The world would continue spinning, anyone that did happen to care would deal. This is what had to happen.
He pulled the noose to hang around his neck loosely. A small smile grew on his face. He wanted this. He needed this. He was ready.
He kicked the chair out from under him, and the vulnerable fear and terrifying pain of hanging by the neck took ahold of his system. His body subconsciously fought against the threat by thrashing around while his hands grabbed for the rope, and his brain flooded with warnings.
It died down soon as his consciousness faded. The smile on his face was finally genuine. I'm sorry, everyone. He thought with the last of his life. And then he was no more.