Sunday, December 18th
11:37 A.M.
"Why does my Dad hate me?"
The question was simple really. Anyone who knew the truth could answer it, and Keith, someone who had just witnessed this full fledged truth, felt he should answer it with ease.
But did he want to answer it with ease? Not really.
A part of Keith felt like Jaime Sanchez truly didn't hate his son. Hate was a strong word, hate was the thing that fueled world wars and murder and discrimination. And although Mr. Sanchez had been disrespectful and horrid, some of the things he'd said still struck Keith a different way.
"I don't think your Dad hates you," Keith confessed, never letting his eyes stray from the white lines of the road. "I think he loves you, in some weird, twisted, asshole sort of way."
Lance wiped at his eyes. "Yeah, sure," He spoke sarcastically, like the notion was bullshit. Which, in Keith's defense, may have been slight bullshit, but still came from the truth.
Keith was getting the vibe that Jaime Sanchez didn't really think his son was worthless. It was more complex than that. Jaime loved his son, loved his son deeply, and Keith had the suspicion that Jaime truly wanted to support Lance. But Jaime was also old fashioned, and confused, and a beginner to understanding his son's bisexuality. He didn't know what he was doing, having to deal with a bisexual son, and he was naturally going to others for help. They didn't exactly make a handbook for this sort of thing (alright, some do exist, though Keith doubts Jaime would ever read those.) Jaime reacted the way he did because it was all he'd ever known. Growing up in a religious household, especially with Lance's Abuela for a mother, had most likely set him to have black and white vision.
However, that didn't justify Jaime's words, not in the slightest. What he'd done was wrong, regardless of the intent or ignorance.
Keith wanted more than anything to protect Lance from his bitter situation. He wanted to save him, rid him of all his problems. Except, Keith was smart. He knew that was an irrational notion, because the world is a cruel, hideous place, and that's the reality. You cannot protect someone forever, no matter how much you care for them. Why? Because at the end of the day, you have your own problems, and they have theirs. Someday Lance was going to have to fight his own battles, and on that day Keith wouldn't be there to help him escape.
But, for now? For now Keith could at least be a support, a shield of protection for a day. He could keep driving, and driving, and driving, letting the car cruise at seventy miles per hour down the freeway.
It wasn't an escape though, not by any means. It was a step back. One that would allow Lance to make a better, stronger step forward in the right direction.
Lance had stopped crying a while ago, though the red eyes and puffy cheeks still lingered. Keith refused to look at Lance again, not while he was still in this state. Not that Keith was embarrassed to see Lance cry, their relationship had taken a strange and unexpected turn past that. No, Keith just didn't want his heart to ache all over again.
The silence between the two boys was masked by the car's engine, and Keith noticed Lance tugging at his shirt absentmindedly. Lance was all worn out now, the energy of crying, adrenaline, and emotions having drained him of every last drop.
Keith thought back to just fifteen minutes earlier, how he'd wrenched at Lance's hand and led them straight out the front door. He remembered how Jaime had seen them, how he'd cried out to stop, how distraught he sounded. Jaime knew he'd made a mistake, he knew he'd broken his son. He felt guilty, Keith had heard it in his voice. And had Keith stopped? No. Keith had kept walking, all the way out the front door, all the way past the soft jingle of the doorbell, all the way to their shitty car. All the way to somewhere safe.
And then Keith remembered how Lance had sobbed, how he buried his head into his sleeve so Keith wouldn't see, and how Keith had whispered, "It's okay. It's okay. It's okay to cry."
"But-" Lance had whispered, his lips red and chapped. "But it's not. It's not okay. I'm, I'm a twenty year old man, Keith."
Keith remembered how he'd pulled onto the side of the highway just so he could take his eyes off the road, just so he could stare at Lance and get his goddamn point across.
" Everyone. Fucking. Cries. "
"Y-Yes but-"
Keith had growled. "And you're a human. Crying is human. Crying is natural, crying is a part of God's bullshit circle of life. Are you an alien? Are you a cyborg? Are you some weird ass dude with no tear ducts from that anime shit you watch?"
Was this Keith's attempt at cheering Lance up while also proving a point, but like, simultaneously? Lance couldn't seem to decide the answer to that, or whether he should laugh or cry even harder. It just resulted in his tears stopping, and his jaw clenching shut.
"Well, no, but-"
Keith had thrown his hands up. "There. See? You've got no excuse then."
Lance hadn't been able to find a response to that, and when Keith drove back onto the highway their silence had continued.
And now? Now they were on the highway again, driving with no destination or plan intact.
After a moment, Keith finally spoke up. "Where do you want to go?"
Lance looked up and bit his lip, as if confused. "G-Go?"
Keith didn't dare move his eyes from the road. "Yeah, go. I'll take you anywhere. Do you wanna go home?"
Lance shook his head. "No, not yet. I don't want to worry my mom."
"Wait-" Keith's eyes widened. "So you're not going to tell your mom what your dad said?"
There was a pause, and for a moment Lance looked as if he was still debating. Then he finally shook his head. "No."
"Jesus Christ-" Keith's grip on the steering wheel tightened even harder, and his pale knuckles turned even whiter. "You need to talk about it with her. This can't go unnoticed. This needs to be resolved, resolved between you and your parents."
"I won't do it."
Keith huffed. "Don't be ridiculous! Hiding away your emotions isn't going to fix anything."
Lance turned his eyes towards Keith at a sharp angle, his voice growing increasingly more irritated. "I've hid my emotions my entire life, Keith. It'll be fine."
That wasn't good enough. Hiding your emotions only caused them to boil over and explode when a limit was reached; Keith had more than enough experience understanding that.
"Bullshit." Keith scowled. "You need to tell your mom, or I'll tell her for you."
From the edge in Lance's voice, Keith could tell that his friend was growing increasingly more irritated.
"I don't want her to know, okay? She doesn't need to know. She already deals with enough shit as it is, and my parents already fight over the issue, adding to it will just-"
"But, Lance, being a parent means that you're willing to deal with shit! Your mom-"
"Will you stop?"
Keith shook his head forcefully, making his hair sway. "No. Your mom will want to know! She's a good woman and-"
"WILL YOU STOP?" Lance repeated, banging his hands on the dashboard. "What do you know about parents? What do you know about my mom? You're an orphan, Keith! You don't have any parents!"
Keith felt the words stab into his chest, anger overflowing like blood.
Keith stopped the car immediately, swerving into a patch of earth on the side of the road. He parked the car, never turning off the engine, never even taking the key out, never looking at Lance once.
He was angry, one could tell from the way his eyes seemed to glow.
Keith wanted to scream. He wanted to bite his lip, and he was - biting his lip so hard that the taste of metal began to smolder his tongue.
Keith wasn't sure what he was feeling anymore.
On one hand he knew Lance was thinking irrationally, he knew that Lance hadn't meant such harmful words. When you were in despair, and anxiety took over, you tended to say hurtful things. Especially to the ones around you, to the ones you loved.
But on the other hand? On the other hand Keith wanted to something malicious right on back. Maybe Keith was thinking a little irrationally too, maybe it was the car's awkward heat. Maybe it was the fact that he was going out of his goddamn way to take care of Lance, maybe it was because Lance had just thrown him to the side and ignored the sacrifices Keith was making. Maybe it was because Keith felt broken too.
Keith knew he didn't have parents. Of course Keith knew, he'd lived his entire life afraid, and alone, and all by himself. He didn't need Lance fucking pointing it out for him, he didn't need this asshole reminding him of Keith's most painful insecurity. He didn't need Lance, a boy who did have a family , to brag and flaunt and flash it in his face! Lance had the one thing Keith would kill for - and he had the audacity to throw it away so blindly?
"You know what, Lance?" Keith began, his words vicious on his tongue. "You're right. I don't have parents. Great job on pointing that one out for me! You're very observant."
Without turning to look at Lance's reaction, Keith forced the driver's side open and yanked himself out, slamming the door shut behind him in a fit of rage. It was loud, the slam of plastic and metal only shattering the roadside serene peace.
"Oh, and by the way-" Keith turned and stared at Lance through the door's window, vexation oozing from his lips. "Go fuck yourself."
Keith wanted to go find a tree and bang his head against the bark till his skull broke. Keith wanted to go scream at nothing, he wanted to jump off a cliff, he wanted to punch something, or worse, someone. He wanted someone to feel the same pain he was feeling, he wanted someone to ache and to burn and to bleed.
Lance. He wanted to punch Lance. He didn't care about the guilty look Lance wore, or the round eyes that oozed with sorrow. He didn't care that Lance was getting out of the car, voice urgent, racing around with his tear damp sweatshirt to stop him. He didn't care that Lance repeated the words I'm sorry over and over again, like a mantra he'd memorized. He wanted to give Lance a bloody nose, he wanted to sock the motherfucker in the jaw.
So he did.
It happened so fast, and the moment Keith's fist made contact with flesh, all of Keith's anger seemed to slip away.
There was no cracking noise (Thank God), but Keith's fist still came away from the punch covered in blood. Deep, thick, red blood, staining and dripping from both Keith's fingers and Lance's nose. For a moment the two of them just stood there on the side of the road, blood dripping onto the dirt, staring at each other like they couldn't believe what was before their very eyes.
I just gave Lance a bloody nose, Keith's mind screamed, panic beginning to form. I just gave Lance, my fake boyfriend, the one I'm supposed to be FAKE DATING, a bloody nose.
What is Rosa going to think?
Keith began to back away, eyes wide. "Lance, Lance I'm so sorry-"
"Puta madre te voy a matar! Que mierda fue eso?!"
Lance was infuriated, malice painted across his skin like a Picasso. The words fell from his lips like spitfire, like vitriol. Keith couldn't understand Lance's curses, but he was smart enough to recognize the wrath Lance emulated.
"Coño carajo esto duele-y me hiciste sangrar! Eres un cabron de mierda! Quedate allí para que te saco la mierda, cojudo-Oye! Para moviendote de revés! Oye!"
Lance charged, and Keith was screaming.
Tackled to the ground with a shout, the two boys began to roll in the dirt. Lance tugged and ripped at Keith's hair and shirt, cursing loudly in wretched spanish. Keith continued to scream, pushing at Lance's face in his attempt to get away.
With a fierce kick to Lance's gut, Keith was able to scramble to his feet and sprint away from the scene, leaping over the road barrier and down into the forest area that lined the highway. He continued to screech, constantly looking behind him to watch Lance pound down the steep hill. He cupped his bloody nose with his hand, yelling out so many curse words that Keith was becoming increasingly terrified by the second.
"Keith! I'm going to fucking kill you!"
Even though Keith knew that Lance wouldn't ever kill him, he still kept running, fear spreading and his calves burning.
And then, in an almost humorous turn of events, Lance tripped on an old, spindly vine that grew out from a thick tree. His already bloody nose slammed against the brown earth.
Keith was too scared to laugh, and he took Lance's setback as an opportunity to run faster, leaping over a few rocks and branches, not knowing where he was going or in which direction he was headed. He probably should've been looking for landmarks, or at least thought through the situation before leaving Lance's Corolla on the side of a main highway.
The forest that Keith continued to sprint though was the type that people were murdered in, or the kind where you found a random cabin with an evil old woman inside. Keith couldn't help but feel a chill on his skin, despite it being noon and the sun shining through the gaps of tall branches. The trees weren't exactly green, most of them bare or a dead yellow from the Arizona weather.
After a while of running, Keith realized Lance was nowhere near him. He slowed to a halt, dropping to his knees to catch his breath. He wheezed into the December air, sweat causing his black t-shirt to stick to his skin.
God, His mind murmured. I keep fucking this up.
After a few more breaths, Keith made the short decision to turn back and see if Lance was alright. However, without a single warning, Lance appeared from the bushes in a fit of rage. He pounced Keith, making his enemy screech in surprise. The two began wrestling again, rolling across the dirt and leaves. Branches poked into their sides and made sharp cuts in the skin, tree sap sticking to their clothes and elbows.
"I can't believe you fucking punched me!" Lance screamed into Keith's ear, raking his fingers towards Keith's chest.
"Of course I did!" Keith yelled right back, pushing at Lance's jaw and struggling to kick at his lower half. "You decided to be an asshole!"
They continued to roll and battle, tugging at each other's hair, shoving, pushing, scratching and kicking. This was so unlike their playful game on the bed from the morning earlier, this was violent and fearsome and, in some ways, a little childish.
As everything must come to a close, so must anger. So must battles, grudges, fighting, fury. So must the fire that you feel beneath your rib cage, so must the ice that burns your belly.
Their battle came to a close as all things do, and it did with a splash.
Cold liquid enveloped Keith's body, the two boys slowly falling into deep water. It was a huge shock, making Keith's eardrums pound and his heart race into overdrive.
It took a few moments for Keith to process that they'd fallen, somehow, into a body of water. Adrenaline pressured him into swimming upwards, forcing his body against the current. He felt water surge up his nose, ice cold burning like poison.
Lance yelped, bursting from beneath the water. The blood had washed away from his face, but was already beginning to drip from his right nostril again. Keith launched up soon after, exploding into a fit of coughing to hack the water from his lungs.
It burned, everything burned, and Keith felt like his entire body had turned blue from the temperature. Weren't they in a desert? Why was there a lake? And why was it so cold?
It was then that Keith remembered it was fucking December, and despite the warmer Arizona temperatures in comparison to other states, the water was still going to be cold. He groaned out loudly, his throat sore and aching from the lake water.
In a state of survival, both boys immediately swam in the same direction towards the bank. Keith struggled to swim with his limbs turning numb, his t-shirt and skinny jeans soaked to the core. His lips shook violently from the cold, already beginning to turn purple and blue. Keith forced his legs through the water, counting the seconds until he could finally be on the shore.
The moment he was free of the icy lake, Keith let his body flop down against the rocks and crouch into a fetal position. He was so cold, and he wanted more than anything to strip himself of the soaked clothing that clung to his body. He wouldn't ever do that with Lance watching, not if his life depended on it.
Lance flung himself to the rocks right after Keith, following his example and curling his knees to his chest. The two didn't say anything, just let the adrenaline subside and the cold ice their skin. Keith watched as Lance's lips turned a soft reddish blue, the skin chapped despite the water droplets that decorated the lipline. Wet blood dribbled into his mouth and across his tongue, staining his skin and continuing to bleed. For a moment Keith feared that Lance was going to lose too much blood.
Shaking, watching Lance shiver, letting his body grow increasingly more numb by the moment, Keith tried to process what had happened. So many things flooded his brain, and for a moment nothing seemed to make sense.
"This-" Lance shivered, letting his arms rest and soak the rocks beneath him. "This is the most fucked up christmas break I've ever had."
And then, without any warning and in his unstable state, Keith started cackling.
"What-" Lance breathed through shivers, moving his head to the side. "What the hell?"
"You-" Keith belted out, attempting to speak despite the bursts of wheezing and chortling. "Are you, are you kidding me? This is the most eventful christmas break I've ever fucking-"
Lance scowled, wiping at his nose and trailing blood across his arm. "You're an idiot."
"And I, I fucking, I fucking punched you and-"
"Yes, I know. I'm bleeding because you're a lucky punch."
"And, and you, and you fucking-"
"I'm aware that I tripped on a tree, Keith. I know, I was there."
"And then? And then? We fell in a lake? A motherfucking lake, Lance! Like, what fine cooked shit is this-"
Lance groaned and sat up, cupping his nose again and pinching the bridge. Keith continued to cackle on the rocks, now rolling around in his laughter. Lance had never seen Keith laugh this hard in his life. And honestly? He wasn't sure if he liked this new, wild, joker Keith. Obviously Keith had lost it, because never had Lance thought that Keith Gyeong could actually laugh for longer than a solid minute.
"I'm leaving you," Lance announced, standing up from the rocks to shake some water from his clothes.
Keith's laughter slowly died down, and he struggled to scramble up from the rocky bank. "Hey," Keith said, racing up to walk at Lance's side, still in a small fit of giggles. "I'm sorry. Like, I really am."
Lance scowled and wiped at his bloody nose again, moving more blood to his sleeve. "Fuck you, man. You punched me!"
"And you brought up my dead parents! Never bully an orphan, that's like, the #1 tip on how to not be a dick." Keith ran a hand through his wet hair, slicking the black strands back and out of his eyes. "I'd say we're even."
Lance frowned and moved a branch out of his way. "Whatever." It was obvious he was still mad, but more grumpy than anything else. Who wouldn't be, soaked and walking through a forest, blood staining your shirt and face.
Keith moved up to stop Lance with a hand to the chest. "Hey, Lance. Let me patch you up."
"Why?" Lance countered, his words full of bite. "You don't want to."
With no warning, Keith immediately began to strip the wet, black t shirt from his body. The fabric unstuck from his skin slowly, revealing a pale chest lined with goosebumps.
"Yes, I do. Here."
Keith was oblivious to Lance's sudden blush, or the fact that his eyes went wide. Lance took the shirt silently, not able to rip his eyes away from the dip of Keith's belly button or the soft baby fat that lingered around his pants.
Keith had given Lance his shirt. For a bloody nose no less. How romantic.
Turning on his heel, Keith began to stride through the forest, whacking away at plants and branches with his hands. Lance brought the wet t-shirt up to his nose to apply pressure, letting it soak up with blood. He was still a bit in shock, and it took a while for Lance to move again. He'd taken too much time watching the way Keith's hips moved when he walked, the movement more obvious now that he was shirtless.
Despite being soaked, dirty, bruised, and just a little miserable, Keith felt at least a tiny bit content. He'd succeeded in helping Lance escape. At least, sort of, in a strange, unpleasant sort of way. Lance wasn't crying anymore, and he wasn't heartbroken over his father for the time being. That was a win in Keith's book.
After hiking through the roadside forest for a few more minutes, Lance finally spoke up. "So-" He began, still holding the black shirt to his nose. "How do you know where you're going? I feel sort of lost. I have absolutely no idea where the car is."
Keith raised an eyebrow, as if it were obvious. "You left a trail of blood, dude." With an outstretched arm, Keith pointed to droplets of red blood that splattered across several branches, leaves, and other forestry, all of it creating a path north.
Lance gaped, finding the situation both hilarious and morbid.
"This is, like, a really fucked up version of Hansel and Gretel."
Keith snorted and continued to follow the blood trail. "Yeah, but the rated R version."
"Well, obviously." Lance chuckled into the shirt at his nose."I mean, you've got your blood and gore, your reckless college kids, your homosexuals, filthy language, there was our violence earlier, one of us is half nude-"
"I am literally shirtless, not half nude," Keith pointedly interjected, moving a branch out of the way for Lance to walk through.
"-and all we need now is a hardcore sex scene!"
Keith laughed like that was preposterous, and he looked away immediately to cover up his blush. "Well, if we run into Han Solo anytime today, I'll let you know. Then we can have a real rated R movie."
That made Lance chuckle, and the way his eyes crinkled and his mouth tilted into a smile made Keith's body warm.
Things may not have gone according to plan, but looking at Lance then made it all worth it. He was smiling, really smiling. Even having a bloody nose couldn't bring away Lance's smile. And maybe it was Lance's natural survival tactic, maybe it was his form of coping, Keith didn't know. But it was worth it, worth all the shivering and the blue lips, the cuts on his skin and tree sap stuck in his hair, worth the screaming and the anger, all of it, just to see that smile on Lance's cracked lips.
They reached the corolla after several more minutes of walking, a trek that was mostly filled with crude jokes and Lance calling Keith, 'Gretel'. The bleeding from Lance's nose had finally subsided, and the two boys were slowly warming up from the movement.
Keith practically dragged himself to the car, never more happy in his life to see such a piece of junk.
"H-Hey, little lady…" Lance breathed, letting his words trail off as he hugged the car's front hood.
Despite being tired and ready for a four year long nap, Keith still had the energy to snort in Lance's direction. "You're insufferable."
Keith was surprised the car was still there, and just from one look in the window he could see their phones. How was the car still there, key stuck in the ignition, and not hijacked? How in the sweet hell were they still surviving this?
Keith climbed into the front seat and sat down, happy for once to be inside Lance's shitty corolla. He gave a content sigh, and reached for the key in the ignition so he could heat up the car and warm up his cold arms. He gave the key a full turn, and the car sparked to life for only a moment, before it sputtered out and died.
Keith's eyes widened, realization hitting him as he thought back to an hour earlier. He'd left the car on. He'd left the motherfucking car on. And now the battery was dead, and they were in the side of highway thirty-seven, and they were wet, and Keith was shirtless, and Lance was about to die from blood loss and hypothermia.
"Lance?" Keith called from the car's open window, his voice cautiously unsteady. "Do you happen to have any jumper cables?"
Lance poked his head up from where he'd been hugging the corolla's hood. "Um, no, why?"
Keith howled and pushed against the steering wheel horn out of anger. "Shit!" Keith yelped. "The car is dead."
"Well, fuck." Lance slid into the front seat and reached for his phone so he could text Danny.
"Six missed calls," Lance mumbled solemnly. "My Dad's worried about me." He didn't sound bitter, yet there was that same hint of sadness from before.
Keith gripped Lance's shoulder and squeezed it lightly, letting his thumb rub softly at the wet t-shirt fabric. "Listen," Keith began, tilting his head so the two could make eye contact. "Your father may be an asshole. He may have fucked up big time. And I may want to punch him in the gut next time I see him. But you know what else? I think he feels guilty. I can see it when he looks at you- he isn't angry. I think he's confused, and frustrated, and more angry at himself than anything else."
Lance bit his lip. "But what if you're wrong? What if he actually does hate me?"
"I don't think he hates you, Lance."
It was as if Lance had ignored him. "What if, what if I need to stop dating men? What if I pretend I'm straight? Maybe I need to do that to make him happy, maybe I need to-"
In one swift motion Keith had both hands at Lance's face, squishing his cheeks together like a monkey. Lance looked like a baby, his lips puckered out and his blue eyes wide. Keith squished the cheeks in a little softer, but he still held his hands there. Lance didn't say anything, just stared at Keith expectantly.
Then, Keith finally spoke, his voice heavy and deep.
"No."
Lance moved to protest, but Keith squished his cheeks in even more.
"No. Never, never ever change for someone else. I don't care if that person is me, or your father, or the Queen of England. Never change."
Keith wasn't sure if he was the right person to give Lance this advice. He wasn't even sure if he deserved to be there, sitting in that stupid car, heart beating, feeling his own eyes begin to tear up, looking at Lance and wondering how. How had he gotten here? Why was this a thing? What had led him to sit in that car, hands on Lance's cheeks. Why was Keith the one there at Lance's side, there at a time when Lance needed love more than ever? It was like Lance's body needed Keith to survive, and Keith was there, happy to comply.
Maybe it was fate, or maybe it was God toying with their hearts. Keith wasn't sure, but what he did know was that he'd never been a religious person. He'd never known much about God, or angels, or bibles and churches. But what he did know, was that if God were real, if God truly did sit up in the sky on his throne of a cloud, was that he spent his time watching and laughing. He laughed at human misfortune, laughed at the world he had created, laughed at the things that he'd done. And Lance? Lance didn't deserve to be laughed at by God.
Keith swallowed.
"Never change. Because you are unique. And I know that's cheesy as shit, and I know this is coming straight from those chick flicks you pretend to hate, but you are so fucking unique. You're so, so…" Keith felt his breath hitch, like he was about to cry. Dammit, he'd never forgive himself if he cried.
"You're so Lance . You're compassionate, and friendly as hell. You watch anime, and can memorize any song you put your mind to. You love your chickens, and you love your siblings, and you love to wrestle. You love your bunk bed. You're sentimental. You're a crier, and you don't want anyone to know it. You're competitive as shit, yet you'll give up winning just to let your little brother feel victory. You're self sacrificing. Your music taste is the cringiest in the world, and somehow you still don't care. You can dance like Shakira, and fuck, you have the most amazing hips. When you dance?" Keith laughed, no longer in control of the words leaving his mouth. "When you dance, you remind me just how gay I am. Because it's so damn hot. I watch you dance, and I want bang to my head against a wall."
Keith shook his head, laughing quietly under his breath. "Lance? You're bisexual. That's the reality. It's a part of who you are, just like all those other things. Those things you can't change, they're written into your DNA. So never, never say you want to change. And if you do? I'll kick your ass into the next reality."
Keith's hands fell from Lance's cheeks. It was quiet between the two of them, and Lance's face was blank, devoid of any emotion except shock. Keith didn't let it get to him, he just moved his hands away, placing them neatly in his lap.
Suddenly, like the world had spun just a little too fast, Lance was hugging him. Hugging so damn tight that Keith felt his bones creak and his muscles strain. Lance buried his face into Keith's neck, tears dampening Keith's bare skin.
For a moment, Keith didn't move, too shocked by the sudden act of contact to focus. And then Lance mumbled two words into Keith's shoulder, and it made his lips spread into a smile. It made his heart soar and his mind scream, it made little fireworks erupt in Keith's stomach.
"Thank you."
Keith gripped Lance tightly back, wrapping his short arms around Lance's torso. The two of them sat there, embracing in the front seat of the car, Lance sending tears down Keith's bare skin. And then they were pulling away, and although Keith had known the break was bound to happen, he wanted more than anything to be in Lance's arms again.
Lance wiped the tears from his eyes and chuckled quietly. "God, you're right. I am a crier. This is, what? The third time I've cried in front of you? And how long have we been on vacation?"
Keith smiled warmly and leaned back in his chair, absentmindedly rubbing his bottom lip underneath his teeth. "Only two days." Keith paused, watching as Lance wiped at the tears with his sleeve. "Man," Keith continued. "I made this really gay, didn't I?"
"Yeah," Lance agreed, looking back up at Keith with wet eyes and a sparkling beam of a smile. "But I don't mind. After all-" He paused, running his next words through his head like even admitting them was a great accomplishment. Which it was, and Keith was proud of him for it.
"After all. That's okay."