Title: Moving On
Words: 3269 Themes: Grief, comfort, love, romance Pairing: Keith/Lance from Voltron: Legendary Defender Thank you for the commission, Reina! I love you, sweetie <3 The fic!
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This one is Highschool Klance! Started on twitter!
The question wasn't what Lance was expecting. He turns to look at Hunk, his long-term friend of...basically forever, and shrugs. "Keith's cool." "But he's a total ass, Lance! He treats you, and everyone else, as if they're the scum of the Earth." Hunk frowns, sipping on the juice carton in his hands. "He's totally, totally, totally not good for you, and yet you keep being nice to him." "Well, yeah. He's a nice guy once you get to know him," Lance tries to gauge Hunk's expression, but it's pretty hard to understand his mood right now, "and someone's gotta tell him that mullets went out of fashion decades ago." With a roll of his eyes, Hunk throws the empty carton in the bin, and then the school bell rings. As the boys pack up their things, Keith appears in front of them. He hands Lance a note and walks off without another word. "That-...was weird." "Agreed." Lance slowly opens the note to look inside, and his heart almost skips a beat. Oh. Oh. "What does it say?" Lance looks up at Hunk and smiles, a small blush on his face. "He's gay. And...well, Hunk- I'm bi." Oh. Started on twitter!
(THEMES OF SUICIDE) His diary was the only thing they hadn't seen. It recounted of memories, of his childhood, and things he loved. It took all the strength in his mother's body to open those first few pages. He had gotten this diary as a birthday present from his late father a few years ago, and he had kept it ever since. The front cover was a faded green, and the pages looked as if they had been stained. But everything was still legible. There were normal, daily things on the pages. About his Father, who he was, and about his family. He would do anything for his family, as his mother would recall, flicking through his daily routine. He always circled back to his little sister, how he wanted to see her grow up. But the pages soon turned. It wasn't as if she didn't know, but there was nothing she could do to prevent it. The darkness that swarmed his head, the thoughts he kept lurking inside. It was horrible to live like that, and...he did. He lived his life with the darkness, and ended it with them, too. The final page was a goodbye. A letter to his family, a letter to everyone else. His mother wept, wetting the book with her tears. His little sister came into the room to read, hugging tightly onto his mother. If only he had spoken to them. If only he was still here. Started on twitter! (This one is Klance)
Keith put his arm over Lance's body. It was a mistake to come here. This base was filled with Galra sentries, and Keith had the sinking feeling that something would go wrong. "Stay here." Keith whispers, keeping Lance behind him. There really wasn't the need to be so protective, but Keith was on edge. And that meant keeping Lance safe. Even if it meant being...well, bossy. "I can look after myself, Keith-" "Sh!" Keith sighs and peeks around the corner. They were trying to escape, and hearing the walking patterns was a bit difficult with Lance acting up like this. He had some weird...thing with Keith. A rivalry, if you will. A few sentries pass by, and Keith has to move his head back to avoid being caught. His bayard is activated, and his brow is furrowed. "On my mark, we-" Pew, pew! The sentries are down. Keith glances over at Lance, sighing. "Or, you can do that." "What? They're down, aren't they?" "Not quietly!" An alarm blares off in the distance, and Keith has to bite his tongue and pull Lance back as he realises that there are more sentries coming their way. The noise rings in his ears, and he can feel his heart pounding as his anxiety rises. There's going to be more than they can handle, and he knows that. "Lance. We need to get out of here. We can go the back way." Lance turns to look, gulping. "Uh, Keith? They're coming from both sides." Keith freezes. That means they're either going to be caught, or killed. He takes a deep breath and turns to look at Lance, and he can see the fear in his eyes. The fear that he was feeling himself. He moves closer to him, takes a deep breath, and hides them behind on the pillars. "Be still, be quiet." Lance nods. Started on twitter!
Gentle, subtle, and sweet. Her embrace was everything to me. And under that cherry blossom tree, we shared the first kiss of many. As we grew older, and our time together became more certain, our kisses would, too. It was like every day there was a new way to get to know her. She was my girlfriend for a very, very long time, and yet it felt like we were just kids messing around. We kissed under dazzling lights during the Holidays. We spent most of our time together under the stars, hands held tightly, wishing for this moment to never end. The moon would lay witness to the tales we told each other - how much we loved one another, and how many stories we could make together. It was challenging at times. We have different interests, different friends. But that didn't mean we weren't going to persevere. That didn't mean we had to split, just because some nights we weren't together. No. It meant...something different. It meant that we could snuggle each other when we come back, and tell of everything we had done without each other. It meant that we could kiss like we hadn't seen each other in years when we were separated for a few hours at most. It meant that we could miss each other, learn what it was like to feel that pain, and then have it resolved at the end. It made us stronger. It was on one of these nights that I knew it was time. I had everything ready for when she came home. Her friends were none the wiser, and nor were mine. The living room was decorated in her favourite flowers, and as soon as she stepped inside, I think she knew, too. Our first kiss was shared under the cherry blossom tree at our highschool. And here we are, again, under a cherry blossom tree as people gather around us. For now, she is my wife. And I am hers. Started on twitter!
If I had meant to kill her, I wouldn't have blood over my hands. I would have used a sharper blade, and I wouldn't be this nervous. As of right now, I can barely function. My wife is dead. It was a spur of the moment thing. She came home from work, tired, late- and I had given her the attention she deserved. I sat her down, cooked dinner, and even gave her a foot rub to ensure that she was the most comfortable being in the world. But it wasn't enough. She demanded I do more. The house wasn't clean enough, and apparently it was my fault. Did she forget I was working too? Did she forget that my life doesn't just revolve around hers? It wasn't as if I hadn't done anything. The dishes were clean, the house was only a notch away from being spotless... What did she want from me? What could she possibly be angry about now? Lately, we had been fighting a lot more than a normal couple should. We had been married for years, the kind of marriage that if you came out of it now you would be too old to be anything but a divorced, crippled human being, with nothing left of your salary to give even a homeless man. Our arguments never got physical. But she threatened me a lot. And with the threat of violence over my head, I did what she wanted. I told her what she wanted to hear, told her I loved her even though the passion had died months ago, and had even tried to give her a baby. But it wasn't enough. It wasn't. Enough. It was 11pm when it happened. I don't know what came over me. I was making her a snack, like I usually do before we go to bed, and I just thought...I could stop it. I could make her stop. I could end it all. And then, finally, it would all be over. I could be free from her fucking prison of a house. I brought what she wanted to the bedroom. She was grateful, so grateful, that I almost felt like dropping the butter knife in my hands. But then it started again. It wasn't made to her standard, the food was getting cold, the tea wasn't sweet enough- and then I did it. I killed her. But, I didn't mean to. The knife was just lodged into her throat the next minute I looked, and the tears were rolling down my face because there was a dead body in my bedroom and I had caused it! And I loved her, goddamn it, I did! ...But she didn't love me. Not enough. I guess I did mean it after all. Hi! My name is Neeson.
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