Day 7
Thursday, December 22nd
6:30 A.M.
If Keith had learned anything about Lance in the past two years, it was that the Sanchez boy hated cleaning. Actually, no, hate wasn't strong enough a word. Lance despised cleaning. The thought of doing so made him whine, cry, and pout like a child. However, it was his strong, fiery, burning detestation of cleaning that made him such an efficient one.
First of all, he'd been raised by Rosa Sanchez. And if anyone knew Rosa Sanchez, it was that her house only ever had two versions: clean as heaven or messy as hell. Therefore, when Rosa finally deemed their messy house fit for a cleaning, she brought out the broom, the mops, the buckets and the dusters. It was always then that the Sanchez children knew it was time to suck up their complaints and get to work. Like the other children, Lance was always obedient and always cleaned when told to do so, as that was something he'd grown up learning. He cleaned well and efficient , even if he loathed the idea.
However, just because he obeyed Rosa's cleaning rule didn't mean he'd enjoy the process. He'd continue to bicker and complain, all while scrubbing the floor so ferociously that it shined brighter than a temple. He'd whine while washing at a dirty pot until it was brand new. He knew how to sort laundry efficiently, he knew the tricks to folding a bed sheet, he knew how to remove grape juice stains from clothes, and he knew the perfect way to wash a window. Lance was something of an unintentional home economics professional, even if he abhorred it to the ends of the earth.
Benji wasn't much better, and Josie had the nasty habit of learning from her brothers' examples. While it was true everyone cleaned, it was Josie, Benji and Lance who were yelled at the most during the cleaning hours, usually for making smart comments or complaining under their breath.
Rosa had woken the entire house at 6:30 a.m. that day, marching into each of her children's bedrooms with great intent. She was woman on a mission, and she intended to fulfill said mission if it was the last thing she ever did.
She'd flung open the door to Lance and Keith's room furiously, letting the hard wood smack against the door stop. She was already showered, dressed, and adorned with a light shade of makeup.
"Wake up!" She bellowed loudly after switching the light on, taking three long strides to the bed covered in blankets, pillows, and two young adult males.
Now, it was moments like this when Keith and Lance were grateful they slept together every night. And it wasn't because they wanted to lay in a bed next to each other (which they most certainly did, but that's not important). It was because when a family member entered the room, like Rosa had just done, said family member would see them cuddling and it would look natural. Because, as most people know, couples cuddle all the time in bed. Especially if one was shirtless.
Lance had the habit of sleeping half naked, which amazed Keith. Why? Keith knew Lance was insecure about the large scar across his abdomen. Lance had told him once that letting people see the scar made him anxious. Even though that made sense, what Keith couldn't comprehend was why he, why Keith, was allowed to see such a thing. He'd already touched the damn thing. He'd let his fingers trace it when they made out in the arcade, he saw it every morning when Lance came back from a shower in a towel, he saw it every night when they went to bed.
Why was Keith so lucky? Why did he have the privilege of being present to one of Lance's strongest insecurities?
Despite his confusion, Keith wasn't really complaining. Sleeping against Lance's bare skin made Keith warmer with the extra body heat, and there were several times in the night when Keith felt his fingers brush against Lance's soft belly, or chest, or even collarbone. Each touch of the skin was electricity, and often Keith slept better in the night because of it.
They'd discovered only two nights earlier that spooning was the best option to preserve space in the bed, as it was a twin and wasn't made to fit two grown men. They'd originally decided Keith would be the little spoon, hence his smaller size. Only one night in and they'd already switched positions within their sleep, Keith backpacking Lance like a child.
"Wake up!" Rosa yelled again, this time her wake up call more like a lion's roar. Lance launched himself upwards in the bed, revealing sleep filled eyes, slobber stains, matted hair, and a shirtless torso.
"What?" He mumbled, struggling to let his eyes adjust to the newfound light. Keith had refused to move, even if he was awake.
Rosa clapped her hands and snapped her fingers repeatedly around Lance's head to wake him up. "Wake up, Lance! ¡Despiértate, despiértate! ¡Es un huevon!"
Lance wiped at his eyes like a toddler, turning his head away from his mother. "¡Bien, bien! ¡Ya voy, Mamá , cálmate, Jesús!"
Keith groaned loudly, letting the tension of sleep escape his body with the noise. He stretched and rolled onto his side, taking the rest of the blankets with him. This only made Lance shriek from lack of warmth and thrash for the blankets.
Rosa huffed, her hands balled into fists at her hips. "Boys! Abuela will be here in three hours, and the house is not fit for her eyes . Get up!"
"But-"
"Lance Emanuel Sanchez! Your grandmother is arriving and I am about to lose my goddamn mind!"
Lance blinked for a few moments, attempting to process, before flopping back onto his pillow face down. There was faint mumbling from Lance's mouth into the soft fabric, and Rosa looked ready to burst. Literally burst, like explode, like her face was red and similar to an overheated furnace.
"What was that?" She asked in snarky tone, raising her eyebrows as if sensing an attitude. If Keith didn't know any better he'd think she was about to drag her son out of bed physically. (He was ninety nine percent sure that was something she'd do anyway.)
Lance turned his head to the side, though he barely moved more than that. "I said-" He countered in an equally sharp bite. "-That I will come down in a few minutes."
Rosa stared at him a moment longer, as if she needed to affirm that he wasn't throwing spite (which he totally was.) Then, with one final nod, she exited the bedroom. She left the door open on her way out, which only angered Lance and made him let out another string of curse words into the pillow. Lance had revealed to Keith before that leaving the door open was a special 'mom trick'. It meant that if you wanted to shut the door, you'd have to get up, and if you got up? Well you were already up, so it defeated the purpose of already going back to bed.
Basically, Rosa was a genius.
After a few minutes of laying in bed, contemplating life, and creating lengthy mental lists of the things he most hated (including mornings), Keith finally got up from the bed. Lance took his sweet time following Keith's example, not moving from the bed until Keith had already left to go downstairs.
Once Keith's socked feet hit the wood of the main floor, it was like Rosa's sixth sense had alerted her of another slave for the cleaning. She came storming around the hallway, broom in hand and apron around her waist.
"Keith!" She cried, shoving the broom into his hands. "Sweep?"
Keith blinked, not sure if she was asking him permission or giving him an order. Cautiously he took the broom and began to sweep the hallway of excess dust and dirt. Rosa speed walked out of his way and through the door, arms swinging at her sides.
From the kitchen Keith could hear soft 70s music playing on the old radio, probably from Rosa's favorite radio station. Keith swept his way in through the kitchen archway and wondered if old music was Rosa's choice of cleaning soundtrack. She enjoyed Shakira and Jason Mraz, Lance had said that, but what else?
Lance finally entered after ten more minutes wearing his boxers, a t-shirt (thank god he'd put one on) and soft blue slippers. He yawned and waddled over to the fridge, swinging it open widely.
Again, her sixth sense triggered, Rosa came pounding her small, yet ferocious body back into the kitchen, this time with a mop in hand. Her jaw was set and square, bottom lip almost puckered out from determination.
"Lance!" She cried, racing to grab her son. "Go! Clean! Abuela is coming and-"
"Mamá ," Lance began, turning slowly and shutting the fridge. "Let me eat. It's too early, and if I don't have food in my belly I will wither and die of starvation. "
Rosa waved her hand as if swatting at a fly. "You can die now, eat later! I need all the hallways mopped and dried before Abuela even sees this house-"
"Mamá , please. Just let me make some food and then I'll be more awake."
For a moment Rosa looked ready to protest, but then she just sighed. "Fine! Fine. You do need to eat. But make it quick- no procrastinating with pancakes!"
With that she was already out of the room, taking the mop with her. As she passed the stairway she screamed a few spanish words at Benji who was still out cold in bed.
"Move your butt, huevon!" was followed by a loud groan echoing from upstairs, and Keith chuckled.
The sound of a frying pan banging against the oven made Keith turn. He raised an eyebrow as Lance sprayed it with cooking spray.
"I thought your Mom said no pancakes?"
Lance gave Keith a sideways smirk, like he had a master plan already put into action. He swung the fridge door open and grabbed a few eggs from the carton. "Yeah, but she didn't say no procrastinating with omelets."
Keith rolled his eyes and went back to sweeping, moving the broom underneath the kitchen island's bar stool legs. After a while Lance moved to switch the radio up a bit louder, swaying his hips to the soft music. Keith forced himself to look away, the past few days evidence to him of what Lance's hips could do.
Danny entered the room a minute later, baby Isabella resting at his hip. The small child was still in her pajamas, footie ones that were purple and designed with flowers. She wore a mess of bedhead, and she was obviously still adjusting to the morning light. She rested her head against her father's shoulder, more cuddly in the mornings.
"Lance," Daniel cried, racing over to his little brother. "I need you to take Bella.
"Now?"
"Right now. Mom's on a rampage and she didn't have time to grab extra food from the grocery store. Rachel's still sleeping so-"
Lance snorted. "Yeah, yeah, just hand my baby over." He immediately handed the spatula to Keith and reached for Isabella, essentially telling Keith to make the omelets. Keith panicked, mainly because he had never made an omelet in his life. Nonetheless, he took the egg covered spatula anyway, practically dropping the broom and racing to the oven.
Bella didn't want to go to Lance at first, crying in protest when she was pried from her father's arms. Daniel grabbed his keys from the hook and waved goodbye, giving his daughter a smile. "Bye, Bella! Be good for Tio Lance."
After a few soothing words and loving coos, Bella slowly began to calm down. Her coffee colored irises widened as she looked around the room, observing the morning and the people around her. She was not only shy in the morning, but also a cuddler, wrapping her small arm around Lance's neck and resting her chubby cheeks against his shoulder.
"Okay," Keith began, having deemed Lance capable to finish breakfast. "Please make this, I have no idea what I'm doing."
Lance chuckled and shifted Bella at his hip. "You can do it, just don't burn the house down."
Keith turned and gave Lance blank, angry eyes. "You know for a fact that I could actually do that. Cut the crap and make your own damn omelet."
With a roll of his eyes, Lance took the spatula. "Fine, I'll hold Baby Bella and make you breakfast."
"Wait-" Keith backed away when Lance stole the spatula. "You were making me breakfast too?"
Lance shrugged like that wasn't an issue. With Bella on his left and the spatula at his right, Lance set to work flipping the food with his back turned to Keith. "Of course, you need to eat."
His words were simple, and there was honestly no meaning behind them. Except, Keith couldn't help but feel more. Lance was making him breakfast, real breakfast, like a real boyfriend, like they'd just had a heated, intimate night and had woken up to eat together.
God. Keith was over thinking and needed to stop.
Except, it didn't help that he got to see Lance in this vulnerable state. Baby on his left shoulder, right hand preoccupied with the spatula, hips swaying again, it was all too much. His brunet hair was upright and spread every which way, a white t-shirt hanging loose to his body, and Keith felt his heart skip a beat.
And then Lance began to sing, his spanish lyrics matching the ones that came from the old stereo. His voice was quiet and hoarse with the last remnants of sleep, definitely off key, but with the intention of modest chorus. He wasn't singing for the fun of it either. His body language revealed to Keith that his words were directed at Baby Bella, singing the chorus to her with a strange love that Keith didn't recognise.
Isabella may not have been Lance's child, but she was family, and he loved her so unconditionally that Keith needed to look away. Bella made Lance an uncle, Bella gave Lance a new role in life. And Lance loved this new responsibility, he took it seriously, he practically reveled in it.
Keith loved it, loved it so much that the swell of his heart hurt, physically ached. It was a pleasant pain, the kind that left you breathless and violently tight. He was seeing something so simple, just a man making breakfast. Yet there was more, it was domestic and intimate and an entire new side that Keith was seeing. This trip was opening Keith's eyes, letting him see fractions of Lance Sanchez that he'd never known were there. He wanted it, ached for it, loved and wished for it. This was something he wanted to see every morning, every day that he woke up, every time he entered their kitchen.
This was a man that Keith wanted in his life.
Which meant that Keith needed to leave, leave the room, get out. The emotion was too much, it was too overwhelming, it was making Keith's breath shift, overstep, he needed an escape.
Without alerting Lance, Keith rested the broom against the wall and left the kitchen, letting his legs carry him towards the front door. He swung it open and forced his body from the house.
Coming here was a mistake. Coming here was a stupid, reckless mistake.
Keith plopped down on the front porch steps and wrapped his arms around his knees, letting his head hang low. This was ridiculous, he needed to get a grip on his emotions and he needed to do it fast. Letting his mind wander into uncharted territory, letting his thoughts make uncontrolled conclusions like that, it would only end in chaos.
A prime example of chaos? Loving Lance. That was irrational, that was stupid. He'd only grown intimately close with the Sanchez boy over the course of one week, and already he felt like his heart was his. He may not have realized it until now, but the infatuation was there. And it wasn't even a full love, because love was something that could grow with time. It was a love that had the potential to grow even bigger, even stronger, even more intense, so prominent that it could wreck him when it came crashing down. This whole time he'd been worried about leaving the Sanchez family and missing them, which he would for sure. But it was now that he realized he'd be losing Lance too, and that was just as worse.
He couldn't handle this. He was afraid of love. He didn't understand love. He didn't know how to love. He wanted love to get out, he wanted love to disappear, he wanted love to find a grave and bury itself within, he wanted-
"Keith? Are you okay?"
Keith looked up towards the voice immediately, realizing that he'd been on the brink of hyperventilation. His nails had dug into his palms, leaving small indents in the skin.
It was Cleo who spoke, her long hair pulled up into a messy pile at the back of her head. She wore gardener's gloves and dirt stains covered her bare knees. It appeared she'd been weeding the front yard, and he immediately felt embarrassed for having come outside and disturbed her quiet work.
"Yeah," Keith mumbled, taking slow, even breaths to calm himself down. "I'm fine."
Cleo raised an eyebrow and tossed her garden tools into the grass. "It doesn't look like it to me." She took a seat next to Keith on the porch steps and hugged her dirt covered knees. "What's up?"
Keith bit his lip, praying to God that he didn't make it awkward. He liked Cleo enough, but in this state Lance knew something wrong was bound to leave his mouth.
She was right on the money though, he wasn't okay, and if anything he needed to talk about it. Except, what was he supposed to say? That he was in love with her brother? But that said brother couldn't know ? It would blow their cover. Cleo couldn't know the truth.
"My emotions are out of whack I guess." He shrugged like it was nothing and kicked at a small pebble with his foot.
"Is it Lance?"
Keith knew he should lie, or avoid any doors opening into dangerous territory. Yet he agreed, only digging himself into a deeper hole. "Yeah."
"Is your crush on him turning painful?"
Keith nodded. "Yeah."
"You think he doesn't like you back?"
"Yeah."
For a moment the two didn't speak, and Keith was completely oblivious to what she'd said. And then he realized.
Wait a second.
Wait a second.
Keith whipped his head around to look at Cleo, his dark eyes wide and thin rimmed. All she wore was a smirk on her face, like she knew something he didn't. Which was true, she did know something . She knew everything, absolutely all of it. She knew about the fake relationship, Keith's crush, the unrequited love, everything, and it only made Keith feel intimidated by the fourteen year old.
Cleo was more intelligent than he'd realized.
"I know you guys aren't dating, Keith. I know it's fake."
Keith gulped, suddenly wondering if he'd start to hyperventilate all over again. Bright, red sirens blared in his ears, ringing and screaming to abort . Abort. Abort the scene. He knew he was blushing, he knew his poker face was gone, he knew his facial expressions only further proved her point. How could she possibly know? Did others know? Had she told others?
"But we are dating," He mumbled to her, giving a last minute attempt at protecting his secret, even though he was smart enough to know it would do nothing. "We've been dating for a while."
Cleo shook her head. "I'm pretty smart, Keith. I can tell the difference between two way romance and two way pining." Her voice was soft, obvious that she chose to speak quiet in order to keep the secret.
She was cautious and concerned, and Keith wondered if he could confide in Cleo. No one else in the house had shown any signs of knowing their secret, none until Cleo revealed herself. Keith could only guess that she hadn't told the others. Cleo was smart, that was something Lance had always stressed about his little sister. She would know better than to tell.
Keith finally groaned in distress, banging his head against his knees. He might as well confide in the girl, she was there with open ears.
"It's ridiculous, Cleo. It's ridiculous." His words were mumbled into the fabric of his pants, Keith's cries barely understandable. "I only agreed to be his fake boyfriend for the free laundry and free food! I didn't sign up for this fucked up pining, and his eyes, and his dancing hips, and his dorky love of children, and this ridiculous crush, and all the heart wrenching emotion-"
"Have you tried telling him how you feel?"
Keith looked up immediately, gazing at her like she'd lost her mind. "What? No! That's the last thing on my mind right now. I'm never going to tell him, not in a million years."
"Well," She spoke slowly, her voice soothing despite the curiosity on her tongue. "Maybe you should tell him."
Keith shook his head. "No. Hell no, no way, not ever. He'd never want to be my friend again if he'd known I'd taken advantage of him and this trip."
Cleo raised an eyebrow. "Well, have you?"
"No!" Keith yelped this immediately. "I'd never take advantage of him that way. I would only do anything unless I had his consent. It's just, what I mean is that, like-" Keith began to stutter as he searched for the right words, voice shaky and body going numb. "If he knew that I'd liked him? And also kissed him? And that I'd never said anything?" Keith shivered at the thought. "He'd never talk to me again."
Cleo pressed her lips into a fine line as she thought through his words. "Honestly?" She questioned after a moment. "I doubt he would. He really likes you, Keith. I know my brother."
Keith swallowed, a sudden jolt of anxiety jumpstarting his heart. "Are you saying he likes me romantically? Because I highly doubt that's the case-"
She never missed a beat. "It's something I can't know for sure, and even if I did know, I wouldn't tell you. You need to find that out on your own." Cleo tucked a strand of brunette hair behind her ear while the two were silent. Keith didn't say anything, mostly pondering Cleo's words and examining the small white pearl earrings she wore.
"I'll think about it," He said finally, turning away from Cleo's face. He looked out at the rolling fields in front of them, groups of livestock traveling across the dry grass and desert areas. Despite their conversation somewhat over, the two just sat there and looked at the fields.
Even though they were in the middle of the desert, Lance liked this part of Arizona. The fields were obviously more dry than the ones in Oregon, and most of the farming was done as livestock breeding. Keith remembered taking Mateo on a walk with Lance to go see the neighbor's horses. He'd carried Mateo on his shoulders so the child could see better.
"So," Keith began again, rubbing around his bottom lip. "How did you guess so quickly?"
That made Cleo chuckle, her giggle reminding Keith of bells. She leaned back onto the porch to rest on her hands, some hair moving over her shoulder. "I saw you guys dancing a few days ago. The body language was what gave it away."
Even more embarrassed, Keith blushed under the morning sun. "Is it really that obvious?"
"Nah, I'm just super observant."
"But, like, what body language?"
Cleo tapped a finger to her chin while thinking back. "It was like walking on eggshells. You two didn't have the same comfortable aura that most couples share. Except," She smiled, remembering the song the two had danced to, how Lance had chosen to continue despite the song's sentimental value. "I could see that you both wanted to feel it. The two of you are really close, you just have a hard time seeing it in each other."
"Anyway," Cleo began, standing up and dusting off her hands and pants. "We should probably get back to cleaning or my mother will have both our hides." With an outstretched hand towards Keith she helped the older boy up, and he gave her one final nod.
"Thanks for keeping our secret."
Cleo gave him that same smile from before, and it reminded Keith of one of Rosa's smiles. "Of course. Just make sure you mention me at the wedding."
With that she was gone, having grabbed her weeding tools and disappearing around the side of the house.
Keith took in a deep breath, feeling it rumble in his chest and then escape all over again. A mixture of anxiety and relief flooded his system, both happy and scared that Cleo knew the truth. On one hand, glad because he now had someone to talk to, to confide in, someone who could help protect the secret. However, on the other he was worried, scared because if Cleo could discover their secret, who else could?
For the next hour and a half Keith considered Cleo's words. He finished sweeping the kitchen and moved to vacuuming the carpeted areas, all while contemplating whether or not telling Lance would truly end well. Cleo obviously thought it was a good idea, but was it really?
Keith made his choice when Lance and him were washing windows. They hadn't stopped cleaning since the morning, and had powered through several assignments until they fell to their last and final job: window washing. Lance was persistent that he wash the outside while Keith washed the inside, all for efficient purposes.
In hindsight, washing a dirty window with windex spray didn't sound anywhere near entertaining. If anything it was fabulously dull, a repetition of boring arm movements and screaming at the sun.
Lance had found a way to make it fun, at least for the two of them. Making faces from the other side of the window was included in his tactics, followed by playful teasing games of 'washing' the other through the glass and races to see who could wash a window faster. It was then, watching Lance giggle and make silly faces, that Keith made his final decision. Yes, yes he would tell Lance how he felt. He needed to, because he'd regret it if he didn't. But not until after Abuela was gone. Keith wanted to take on his problems one at a time, not dealing with all at once.
So yes, someday Keith would tell Lance how he felt. And then they'd go their separate ways, and maybe it would end out alright.
Day 7
9:55 A.M.
Lance was fidgeting.
"Dammit, Lance, calm yourself," Keith commanded, poking at the boy's side while looking down at his phone. "Abuela's arrival isn't gonna kill you."
The two lounged across the living room couch, waiting impatiently for a certain seventy year old's entrance. Lance couldn't stop moving, the anxiety and tension of Abuela's doomed arrival only making him panic, shift, move, tick, and fidget. It was becoming unnervingly annoying, and Keith was suppressing the urge to fling a couch pillow at Lance's face.
"You don't know that!" Lance cried, blue eyes round and alert. The other couch cushion was squished in between his arms and chest, hugging the thing like it was keeping him sane. "You've never met my grandmother. She's batshit crazy ."
Keith rolled his eyes, currently texting the group chat (the day's conversation included dick jokes, game of thrones spoilers, and reasons why Hunk hated being a best man.) Once he sent his text he looked up at Lance, observing the boy cautiously. "Maybe she is, but I highly doubt she'll kill you. Don't be a baby."
Lance kicked at Keith's leg from the other side of the couch, earning a growl. "I am not a baby, Keith Gyeong. I am a smart, mature member of society."
"Let's hope Abuela thinks so." Keith snorted at that, going back to his phone.
It wasn't even two minutes later that the sounds of voices echoed outside the front door. They were loud, one of them widely more vibrant. Keith didn't recognise it in the slightest, though he had a hunch as to why. Slipping his phone into his pocket, Keith and Lance both sat up straighter in their couch cushions.
The door swung open and Keith gasped.
"Well, would you look at this place!"
Abuela.
"She's so…" Keith trailed off, whispering into Lance's ear as he watched the woman enter the room. "..not what I expected?"
Although Abuela Sanchez was still old and withered, there was no doubt she was different than your average grandma. First of all, she looked fit, walking with only the support of a medium sized cane. Second of all, she was tall, even despite the small hunch of her shoulders. Keith discovered that it was the Sanchez side, her side, that must've carried the tall gene to Jaime, moving on to Danny, Lance, and then Cleo. She had a sharp nose, though not as protruded as a witches nose, and her fingers were long and spindly. She wore a plain dress that adorned her thin body, and large pearls in her ears that shimmered under her hair.
Now, despite the physical descriptions that easily fit her grandmother persona, it was the way she carried herself that differentiated. If Keith could use any word to describe her, he'd say she was boisterous. Exuberant. Animated. Lively. Pompous. Arrogant. There were so many things to describe her aura, things that just oozed from every word she said.
"Rosa, I'm impressed! The house looks lovely. Far cleaner than last year." Her hands gripped the handle of the cane tightly, using it as leverage in her walk. Rosa walked next to her, helping as a physical support while Jaime carried in the luggage.
Abuela's voice boomed, and that was something Keith disliked from the very beginning. He didn't understand how a frail woman could have such a loud, dominating voice. It was thick with a spanish accent, though many syllables rolled from her tongue with ease. Keith could tell she was an intelligent woman, and had at one time been very powerful. Hell, she was still powerful, just one step into the room and she was the center of attention.
The woman inspected the room with large eyes, as if looking for any mistakes. And then she saw Lance, and a smile lit up her tight face. "Lance! Grandson, you are so big! I've missed you!"
Lance stood from the couch and made his way over to her, enveloping the woman in a simple hug. Abuela Sanchez patted the boy's back before pulling him away so she could observe his face. She held his jaw up in front of her, turning it every which way in order to inspect him like a physician.
"Ah, Abuela, can you, uh, please-" Lance stuttered his cries out in protest, though he didn't fight the older woman much when she was tugging at his ears and hair.
"Oh my," She clicked her tongue loudly, pulling at a strand of hair. "You need a haircut. And your ears! Still so big. When you were a baby they were so large." She gave Lance's ear one final tug before letting go of his face, chuckling to herself.
During the entire exchange Keith forced himself to finally stand up, anxious, terrified, and worried beyond reason. He still stood, taking the few steps over to Lance's side.
"Abuela," Lance began, suddenly reaching for Keith's hand. Keith wasn't sure if it was for show or if he genuinely needed someone's hand to hold in that moment. Of course he needed a hand to hold, the man was about to reveal his boyfriend. (Fake boyfriend if you wanted to get technical.)
Keith obliged and the two clasped fingers together, watching as Abuela Sanchez turned her head to look at the two boys. She raised her eyebrows, asking for Lance to proceed.
"Abuela, this is my-" Lance paused, swallowing down air. Keith could see small drops of sweat at the back of his neck. "This is my boyfriend, Keith Gyeong."
In that moment Keith expected something massive. He expected an explosion or the sky to open up, he imagined there to be dying screams or gunshots, oceans to rise and mountains to fall.
Instead? Instead Abuela Sanchez smiled.
Now, the main question was this: was it a good smile? Honestly, no one was entirely sure. Keith saw several things in that smile, and the very first thing he recognised was it's act of cover. It was a show, a front that Abuela had pulled in order to hide her true emotions. And what those true feelings were; no one could say.
However, Keith did not sense a change in aura. Although she was still stiffly cheerful and entirely friendly, it was evident that she didn't know how to respond to Keith. So, as if it was her natural response, she insulted him.
"He is skinny."
Lance looked ready to fall over. "Of course he's skinny! He's Keith!"
Abuela clicked her tongue. "No. If you want to date men, nieto, you must date stronger men. Keith is a shrimp."
Even though her way of introduction wasn't the most pleasant in the world, Keith would've taken being called 'shrimp' any day in comparison to what his original fears held. He'd stayed awake at night, just fearing for when the famous Abuela arrived. He'd been terrified of her being homophobic, of her calling him nasty words, of her making Lance cry all over again.
"If Keith's a shrimp, then I'm a shrimp!" Lance cried, throwing his hands to the air. "I'm skinnier than him!"
Abuela sanchez swatted her hand at Lance as if to push his words away. "You are allowed to be skinny, he is not." Abuela began to walk towards the couch. "We must fatten him up."
Lance's jaw had dropped. "With what?! You can't force feed him, Abuela!"
Keith laughed at that, relief flooding his system. Abuela wasn't what he'd thought. Was he still scared? Of course. Was he cautious? Most definitely. Was he thankful, thankful that she wasn't as bad as they'd all prepared for? One hundred percent.
Abuela chuckled and sat into the couch cushions, letting her head rest against the soft back. "Oh, I can try."
Lance let his agape mouth shatter closed. If Keith didn't know any better, he looked angry. Why was Lance angry? Angry that his grandmother wasn't as bad as he'd expected? He should've been pleased, he should've been thankful. However, Keith could understand his shock. Everyone was shocked, even Jaime and Rosa, who silently stood at the back of the room with wide eyes.
"Lance," Rosa began, still staring at Abuela Sanchez with wide eyes. "Will you take Abuela's suitcase to the guest room?"
Lance didn't need to be told twice. One moment he was in the living room, the next he was sprinting towards the guest room on the main floor, suitcase in one hand and Keith's palm still held tight in the other.
Once inside the guest room, Lance slammed the door shut behind him. He left his head bang against the white wood, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth.
Keith observed the guest room, noticing first the yellow walls. The paint was a soft color, reminding Keith of baby yellow. It was a simple room, with only a bed, a dresser, and one lone nightstand in the corner. Despite it's simplicity, Keith noticed pushpin holes in the walls, remnants of someone at one time having lived in the room.
The question Keith asked next made Lance halt against the wall, his breath cutting short completely. Keith couldn't help it, his curiosity got the better of him.
"Who stayed in this room before it became the guest room?"
Having realized too late, Keith discovered that he already knew the answer. Painted in pink ink on the wood of the door, right above Lance's head were two words.
Sophia Sanchez.
Keith swallowed down his mistake. "I'm-" He paused, feeling insensitive. "I'm sorry."
Lance sighed and moved from the door, walking over to the simple twin bed and sitting atop it. "Not your fault. You didn't know."
"I've just," Keith bit his lip, turning to look at Lance. The boy rubbed at his neck, like there was painful tension there. "I've just never been in this room."
A shrug. "No one ever is."
Lance tugged at his neck more, rolling his shoulders into the pain. Without thinking Keith crawled behind Lance onto the bed, suddenly placing his fingers at the base of Lance's hairline. Then, with smooth, soothing movements, he began to kneed into the muscle.
The sudden impact of skin made Lance release a small groan from his throat. "What-" He sighed into the pleasurable sensation. "What do you think you're doing?"
"What does it look like I'm doing?"
Lance moved to whack at Keith, but he only dodged it and put more pressure into the muscle, making Lance groan.
"You're tense, and Abuela's arrival only made you more tense. So I'm giving you a much needed a massage." Keith used his thumbs to rub into the flesh, hoping that the added heat would sooth the knots under the skin.
Lance hummed. "What I really need is a chiropractor."
Keith raised an eyebrow and began to use his elbows. "Do you see any chiropractors around here? I do not look like someone who paid for several years of medical school."
"True," Lance giggled, rolling his shoulders. "But you do look like an emo kid from 2001."
Keith pressed even harder into the muscle, making Lance yelp out in pain. Lance's cries only made Keith smile triumphantly, and it wasn't until Lance swatted at him that he finally stopped.
"So," Keith began, moving onto the side of the bed. "Your Abuela. She is-"
"Totally freaking me out?" Lance asked, eyebrows raised. "Yeah. I have no idea what's going on."
Keith flopped his back against the mattress, letting his eyes drift to the ceiling. He noticed that the guest bedroom too had glow stars, just as Lance's old room did. It made Keith shiver just to think of the masked Sophia Sanchez ever counting stars like her brother.
"I thought she would be more, I don't know," Keith sucked in a breath. "Angry? Furious? Break mountains with her screams?"
Lance spun around and flopped onto his back so that he lay parallel to Keith, the two of them lying perpendicular on the bed.
"Nah. That isn't my Abuela."
"But you said-"
"What I said was that she's terrifying. And believe me, she is, in her own way. She's very opinionated, and when you get her to talk about her passions? That's when she gets scary. She's also a critic, and arrogant, and pompous to her core. She may speak loudly and her attitude may make her the center of attention, but she's not one to get angry. Passive aggressive, yes. But not really angry."
Keith bit his lip, letting his hands rest on his belly. So Abuela was still going to be an issue. An issue in her own way, one that Keith was sure they could handle. And if not? They could leave, go back to Oregon, go home. Plain and simple.
"What's the worse that could happen to us?"
Lance shrugged from his place next to Keith. "I'm not sure really. I'm surprised she didn't make any weird comments."
"Well, she sort of did," Keith pointed this out with a laugh under his breath and a smile on his lips. "She called me a shrimp."
Lance giggled at that, still laying flat. Even though the two boys weren't looking at each other, it was an intimate sort of exchange, just laying there with the sun hitting their faces as it fell through the half open blinds.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say my parents talked to my grandmother before hand. She was too…" Lance trailed off for a moment to find the correct word. "Clean. If that's a good word to describe it. The Abuela I know would've spoken her thoughts the moment they came to her mind, but this? She was cautious, and I think it's because my parents talked to her."
"Like," Keith wondered out loud, letting his thoughts speak for themselves. "Like, your dad? Do you think he told her to be respectful?"
Lance didn't miss a beat. "I wouldn't doubt it. He's been….trying. Hard. I've noticed it. He still cringes when we talk about our kissing and he can't really be in the same room as us for longer than ten minutes, but he's definitely trying more than before."
Keith nodded like he understood.
The two boys didn't say much after that, just lay on the bed and stared up at the white ceiling above them, window light warming their skin.
It would be okay.
Keith began to repeat those words in his head over and over, hoping to God that Abuela's intense personality wouldn't result in something wild. He wanted the Christmas to be okay. He wanted to wake up on Christmas morning and watch the Sanchez family open their presents, he wanted to meet all the other cousins, he wanted to eat Christmas dinner, he wanted to do all of it with no issues.
Except, that expectation wasn't realistic. Keith should've known better, he shouldn't have jinxed it.
As the two boys rested on the bed, there was the sudden commotion of a dog barking outside their room. Lance slipped from the bed and opened the door to see Terminator barking viciously at the front door, Mateo waddling over to the door with Greedo in his arms.
"I want to get it!" Mateo screamed behind him, reaching for the door handle with an arm full of iguana.
Now, before the door opened the family had been fully prepared for Abuela's arrival. They'd known in advance, they'd cleaned the house, they'd mentally prepped and readied themselves.
But this? This was worse than any crazy grandmother.
Mateo swung the door open and gave the visitors before him a wide smile.
"Hello! This is the Sanchez house. What's your name?"
The visitor smiled. It was a woman, curly brown hair reaching just past her jaw. Keith was positive he'd never seen her before, but there was something about her that was vaguely familiar. He wondered if he'd seen her in a photograph, or maybe on a photo in Lance's cellphone camera roll.
And then she spoke, and it was like the world had turned upside down.
"My name is Sophia Sanchez. What's yours?"
Day 7
10:32 A.M.
Up until Sophia's arrival, Keith had been positive he knew what he was getting into. He'd known about the rambunctious family, he'd known about the dangers of meeting Abuela, he'd known about the trials he'd face. It's true there had been bumps that weren't planned. Learning about Lance's family, falling in love with Lance, falling in love with the Sanchez family, growing so attached that he never wanted to leave- all these things he hadn't prepared for. Nonetheless, he'd survived them so far, and he'd made it out with only a few battle scars to show.
Still, the trip wasn't over yet.
And this? Keith hadn't signed up for this drama bullshit. It was like an episode straight from a TV show drama. One moment everyone was panicking about the arrival of Abuela, the next there was the surprise appearance of the mysterious Sophia Sanchez.
Now, Keith knew hardly anything about Sophia Sanchez. She was a mystery girl, the eldest daughter, the child who left the family after the birth of her first child. Keith knew she'd been seventeen when she'd gotten pregnant, but beyond that he was clueless. He knew no context, no backstory, no vital information as to why she left. And now? Now the entire family, Keith included, were all questioning the same thing.
Why did Sophia wait six years to show her face again?
Sophia introduced herself to Mateo like it was nothing. He was her nephew, the one she'd never met, and yet she acted so calm, so contained. Keith didn't understand, and coincidentally, neither did Lance.
Lance's tan face had gone completely pale, almost a sickly green color. He was frozen in place, his muscles no longer allowing him to move. Keith could see that Lance was emotionally compromised, like something had snapped. He wasn't panicking, just scared, or worried, or some variation thereof.
The two boys watched from the bedroom door, not able to see everything, but able to hear the majority of the conversation. Lance refused to move, and Keith refused to leave his side.
In response to Sophia's original question, Mateo gave a bright, toothy smile. "My name is Mateo! I'm five!" He held out five fingers proudly, almost dropping Greedo in the process. "And this is my iguana. Actually, it's Tio Benji's iguana, but Tio Benji is cool and let's me play with him."
Another voice spoke, one that neither Lance nor Keith recognised. It was younger, high pitched and sweet. "Will the iquana eat me?" The voice sounded out every syllable of iguana.
Mateo giggled before holding Greedo out to the small voice proudly. "No! He eats bugs. Sometimes he shares with me."
"Mateo? Who's at the door?" Rosa's question boomed from across the back of the house, awakening Lance of his trance. He immediately raced from Sophia's old room, taking Keith by the hand with him, his breath heaving as if he needed to warn Rosa.
But it was too late- Rosa took one look at her daughter and went speechless.
It was so quiet that one could hear a pin drop. Rosa and Sophia stared at each other, neither daring to look away. Keith could physically feel the tension, so thick that it could be cut with a steak knife.
Then a voice destroyed the silence, the same twinkle of innocent words from before.
"Mamá ," The voice questioned softly, making everyone turn to the speaker. It was a girl, about one year older then Mateo. A pile of dark curly hair was piled on her head, held back with several rainbow hair clips. She was cute in a strange way, the clothes she wore obviously second hand. However, she wore them extravagantly; yellow rain boots with Minnie Mouse on the sides covered her feet, an old Lilo and Stitch t-shirt, large, thick rimmed glasses that were held on by a string of rainbow alphabet beads, all items she wore proudly.
"Mamá ," She said again, tugging at Sophia's jeans. "Is that woman my Abuela?"
Sophia had no choice but to turn to her daughter, getting down on her knees so they were eye level. "Alexi," She began, taking hold of the girl's small hands. "I want you to go play with this nice boy. His name is Mateo."
Alexi, or the name that Keith now knew her as, puckered her bottom lip in protest. "But what about Abuela?"
Keith couldn't help it, he turned to look at Rosa. Here eyes were rimmed with red, as if ready to cry. It was a strange, mixed emotion read from her face. She was obviously angry, and that was something Keith wasn't accustomed to. She was also sad, the tears falling as she looked down at her granddaughter for the first time. Keith could only imagine the thoughts running through Rosa's head. Here was the girl, this six year old child Rosa had never seen before, calling her Abuela as if they were family. No, they were family.
Sophia looked on the brink of tears, and she tucked a strand of hair behind Alexi's ear. The strand was so curly - Sophia's act of love hardly did anything to move the amount of hair from the six-year-old's face.
"You can talk to your-" Sophia halted her next word, closing her eyes to take a short moment. "A-Abuela later. Please go play with Mateo."
Mateo held the iguana close to his body with one hand, reaching the other out to Alexi. "Yeah! I like to play. We can go see my goat and my chickens and my cat. Have you ever seen a chicken?"
Alexi giggled at Mateo and nodded her head. "Of course I've seen a chicken!"
"There are nine of them. I counted."
With one last glance towards her Mother, Alexi was lead away by Mateo's hand. Keith watched them go, and for a moment he wished he could join them. He didn't want to be an adult in this situation, he didn't want to be present to the tension that was slowly oozing back. What he did want? For everything to be okay.
However, that is, and always will be, an unrealistic expectation. If Keith knew anything, it was that life always had negativity. Coincidentally, life always had positivity, as one can not exist without the other.
As soon as Alexi and Mateo turned the hallway corner, Rosa let her head whip around to stare at Sophia again. The tears on her face were drying, yet new ones continued to fall, combining with the anger she held for her lost daughter.
"What's going on here, Sophia."
The sentence sounded more like a demand than a polite question, the words spitting through the gaps in Rosa's teeth. Rosa's small, withered hands were balled into fists at her sides, gripping tightly to her skirt for balance.
Sophia stood slowly, her face neutral in order to hid her true emotion.
"I'm sor-"
Rosa spit out again, voice vicious. " Don't say you're sorry. Tell me why you're really here. Tell me why you're here, unannounced, showing up with this child that calls me Abuela, tell me what's going on."
For a moment Sophia didn't respond, just clenching her jaw and biting at her bottom lip. Then she spoke, her words strangely calm and contained..
"I promise I'll explain. I have an explanation, I do, just -" She paused, turning to stare at Keith. It was as if she'd just realized he was in the room. Even if Keith was unwelcome, even if it was a private affair, it still allowed him to observe her more closely for the first time. She had dark freckles on her nose, similar to Lance, though more prominent. Her nose belonged to Jaime, her eyes belonged to Rosa. Danny and Sophia had the same distinct face shape, her body type reminding Keith of Cleo. She was definitely a Sanchez.
And it was then, as she looked him up and down, noticing Keith's hand intertwined with Lance's, that Keith realized. She hadn't been there when Lance came out of the closet. She didn't know about Lance's bisexuality, and so here Keith was, holding Lance's hand.
Sophia wrenched her gaze away from Keith. "I don't want Lance and his-" She paused again. "-Boyfriend in the room."
Keith didn't need to be told twice. He wanted out of the room, and now was the perfect opportunity to take Lance's hand and flee. Except, Lance didn't want to run away, that much was evident when he yanked his hand from Keith's grasp.
"No," Lance declared bravely, taking a step towards his sister. "I have a right to know why you're here."
Sophia scowled, a huff escaping her nose. "I just want to talk to mom-"
"Why? This is, what, the first time you've talked to her in six years?"
"Lance," Sophia groaned, running a hand through her curls. "Please don't do this now-"
"NO!"
His shout was malicious, making both Rosa and Keith jump from the eruptive noise. Keith shivered just from watching the red in Lance's face. Something told Keith that this was Lance's anger flaring. Lance had been good at keeping his emotions under wraps in other situations, especially when confronting Jaime. Now this, this was something different, like a balloon releasing all it's helium into the world. Lance was like that, his inner balloon had finally been popped.
"No," Lance repeated, though quieter. "I do get to do this now. I've waited so long to do this, Sophia."
"Lance-" Rosa muttered, her voice held with warning. Lance ignored it, instead clenching his fists.
"You were gone six years. Six fucking years . Do you even know what happened in that time?"
"Lance," Rosa ushered again, moving towards her son cautiously. "Please don't do this now."
Lance continued to ignore his mother's warnings, instead focused on his words and the poison that came with them. Keith could only wonder how long Lance had dreamed of this moment, Keith knew he wasn't the only one had felt the way he did. People often dreamed of one day being able to yell at someone who'd wronged them. It's a sense of justice, a sense of closure that most people crave. So it made sense, at least in Keith's eyes, why Lance would've used this opportunity to let out his anger on his sister.
Sophia bit her lip, staring Lance down with an equal amount of emotion. "I know I was gone, Lance. That's why I'm here now."
Lance hadn't reached a sobbing level yet, though Keith could sense it's oncoming presence with every stuttering breath. Keith wasn't ready to see them, to see the tears, and he was suppressing every urge in his body telling him to do something .
Hug him. Hold him. Take him away.
Keith wouldn't do any of those. He refused, because this was Lance's battle to fight, and Lance was going to fight it as he pleased, alone .
"But why now? Why not four years ago when I was coming out of the closet? Why not three years ago when Benji was sick and going through chemo? Why did you ever have to leave in the first place?"
Sophia was red in the face, a mixture of embarrassment, sadness, and slight anger. "I know I fucked up, Lance. And I can't take back the past. That's why I'm here, here now, and I'm trying to explain why I-"
"You got pregnant, Sophia. And then you left, ran away because you were scared! You ran away to raise your kid and be stupid-"
"You don't think I know all of that, Lance! Of course I know it was stupid. I was a teenager, of course I was stupid. All teenagers are stupid."
"But that's not an excuse!" Lance cried, jabbing a finger in Sophia's direction. He was truly crying now, fat, alligator tears rolling down his cheeks. "You still did it. And you can't take that back."
Keith wasn't sure what to do, the harsh words thrown back and forth like a tennis ball. It was painful to watch, and he imagined even more painful to endure. But the look on both their faces, the tears under both their eyes, it was equal heartbreak.
"Oh my God, Lance. " Sophia looked ready to push her younger brother. "Can I just, I don't know, explain myself? Maybe I came back home after six years to explain myself, and say I'm sorry, and make things right? I didn't come here to have you yell in my face!"
"But you deserve it!" Lance looked ready to punch a wall, and if he did Keith wouldn't be surprised. His fists were so red, knuckles so white. "You deserve it, Sophia. Because you were my older sister . I looked up to you. You were my hero, and I may have been annoying, and you may have thought me a pest, but I loved you . And I didn't deserve losing you, especially at a young age like that."
It was like a bomb had dropped, Lance's final words strikingly accurate. They were a slap to Sophia's face, Keith swore he could see an invisible handprint in Sophia's expression.
There were no words spoken from Sophia's lips after that. Silence had settled between the two of them, Sophia too pained to respond, Lance too emotionally drained to speak.
Rosa broke the silence, having been present between their violent words. She looked sad, and it was the type of sad that reminded Keith of a woman mourning. He hated seeing Rosa like that, and if he could do anything to put a smile back on her face, he would do so in an instant.
"Sophia," Rosa whispered, dried tears staining her skin. "Why did you come back now?"
Keith wasn't sure what he expected Sophia to say. The way her face changed, it made him wonder if her next words were truly genuine.
"Alexi," she whispered simply. "It was Alexi. She asked why she had no family. And I guess," Sophia wiped at her tear filled eyes. "I guess it broke my heart a little. Because I couldn't tell her the truth. How the reason was my fault."
There was more silence, and Sophia looked up like she was expecting Lance and Rosa to insult her. None ever came, the two of them completely willing to listen, even if they were emotional. So she continued.
"I have reasons why I never came back. And I could go on and on about them," Sophia was crying profusely now, though her words were still understandable. The woman didn't dare make eye contact with the others, mostly out of embarrassment. "But I can't. Not now. Later maybe, but right now? Can you at least be happy that I'm here? I know you all deserve to hold a grudge. I understand your anger. But I'd rather just be welcomed home to the family I remember, just for now."
Keith wasn't sure what he expected of Rosa. However, if knew anything about the woman, it was that she was forgiving.
Even though Rosa was angry (Keith could see it in her eyes) she still chose to pull Sophia into a hug. Rosa deserved an explanation, she deserved to be furious, she deserved justice, but instead? She chose to be humble. She chose to wrap her arms around her lost daughter like the mother she needed to be.
It was that sort of love that made Keith turn away. It was that kind of love that made him uncomfortable, the kind that scared him. And maybe that's why Keith respected Rosa so much, why he looked up to her. Because she loved her children unconditionally. Lance may have been bisexual, Sophia may have been a rebel, but she loved them. She loved them just as much as the other children, and Keith didn't doubt she would die for them.
So he turned away, taking the stairs one step at a time.