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Touch starved
Lance had to ask Hunk about it, who then asked Shiro to best explain it, and suddenly it became a Talk. Shiro sat them down — black paladin to blue, green and yellow — and explained what it meant to be touch deprived.
"It's something that usually starts when you're already an infant. If you never get the stimulation of touch, it can get quite serious actually..."
"So Keith just needs a lot of hugs?" Lance concluded, because to him it was so foreign. He couldn't quite imagine being touch starved, at least not in the way Shiro was trying to explain.
Shiro shook his head. "No. Because of how long this has been going on, too sudden simulation can... be overwhelming."
"But can't touch deprivation cause... problems?" Pidge asked, whom had been frowning this entire time.
Shiro nodded. "Lack of tactile stimulation, especially in early infancy and if continued for a sufficient length of time, may lead to serious developmental and emotional disturbances, such as stunted growth, personality disorders, and social regression." He seemed to be reciting a definition of sort, as if he'd been prepping for this talk, memorizing a script.
"Wait," Lance said, "so Keith is the way he is... because he's touch starved?"
Shiro mulled this over before he finally gave a tentative nod. "In a way, yes, I guess you could put it that way."
That was unbelievable. Lance couldn't quite wrap his mind around it. How could you just not be touched? While he grew up, Lance had never really thought about the whole touching thing, it just happened. Then again, he and Keith had grown up very differently...
"I know it's not always easy to deal with him," Shiro continued, "but I just wanted to tell you that how he reacts isn't always something he can control. I know, he has to take some responsibility and I'm not saying that you should give him any slack, but... maybe keep it in mind?"
It was Hunk who answered Shiro, with a soft, reassuring smile. "We understand what you're trying to say, Shiro. You're looking out for him, and so will we. Thanks for telling us."
Shiro visibly relaxed. He gave a long sigh and smiled. "Thank you, all of you. And if there's anything you want to ask, please don't hesitate."
On the way out, Shiro patted them all on the back. It made Lance realize that Shiro was always making sure to cheer them up and look after them. Even though none of them were touch starved the way Keith was, they didn't really have to worry about suddenly becoming it with Shiro around either. He was always looking out for them.
"Oh my God, Keith could have died?" Lance screeched, jumping from his chair and staring horrified at the screen in front of him. Pidge shrugged behind him.
"Seems like it."
"Oh my God, can he still die from this? Oh my God, Pidge, we need to do something! Keith could die because we're not hugging him enough!"
Pidge sighed. "Relax, Lance. It says that infants can die from it, so I highly doubt Keith will suddenly die now."
"You doubt it, but you're not sure!" Lance exclaimed, still standing with his eyes glued to the screen as if he was willing the words away. Pidge switched to another site.
"You heard Shiro, Lance," Pidge said calmly, "too sudden simulation could do way more harm than any good. You can't just suddenly hug him with all your might and make it go away, it doesn't work that way. And even if it did work that way you have to remember that this is Keith; he can barely handle a high-five."
"But we have to do something!" Lance cried and slumped into his chair.
It was just so hard for him to imagine. How had Keith dealt with small wounds or nightmares as a kid? Had no one ever hugged him and told him everything would be okay when he cried? Had Keith ever cried?
"If you want to do something," Pidge thought aloud, "you should probably talk to him. I mean, he has made a lot of progress. Remember when he freaked out when we tried giving him high-fives? I think he'll be up for almost-hugs in a few months, so it's not like he's in any immediate danger. But if you want to make sure, you'll have to ask Keith himself or maybe Shiro..."
Lance could do that, it wasn't like he was shy or anything. But what would he say? This was so foreign to him that he didn't even know where to start! Did it hurt? Was it like an itch in his skin? Did he want to change it?
"Keith probably won't talk about it..." Lance muttered.
Pidge shrugged. "I'm not sure anymore, he's been opening up a lot more lately. Of course, if you act as your obnoxious-self..."
"Hey!" Lance protested, but it wasn't any real anger behind it. He knew he couldn't just burst into Keith's room and act silly around such a serious subject. He knew that much. But acting silly was always so much easier, it always made the situations so more lighter. "I'll think about it," he said instead before saying goodbye and walking out.
It took Lance an entire week to build up the courage to ask Keith directly. That entire week he'd made up conversations, questions and even a few light-hearted jokes if the situation turned sour. Lance felt as prepared as he could ever be, given that the subject was so far over his head as it was.
Yet when he found himself outside Keith'a room that night, he hesitated. Maybe Keith didn't want to talk about it, maybe it was better to just act as if he didn't know — but then he thought about a scared little Keith, sitting all alone and crying without anyone to comfort him, and that made the decision for him.
He knocked. "Keith?"
Lance heard a muffled "what", and before he could really think about it, he opened the door and walked in.
Keith's room was dark except for the little light that seeped in through the gap in the bathroom door. His room was unusually bare, not that he had that much in his own room, but something about Keith's just made it seemed... impersonal.
Keith sat on his bed, knife in one hand and a cloth in the other. Lance wasn't much surprised to find Keith sitting in the dark and cleaning his knives. Something about that just seemed very Keith.
"What do ya' want?" Keith asked, barely looking up.
Lance puffed his chest out and took a deep breath. He'd planned out an entire speech, but as he looked at Keith — with his unruly hair, pale skin, tank-top ruffled and bare feet — everything he'd rehearsed flied out the window.
"Eh— Keith, buddy, pal," he babbled. "I just— I, uh, I wanted to ask, eh, I mean..." As he scrambled around his words, Keith looked up at him with furrowed brows and waited. Lance could feel sweat trickling down his neck. For a moment he panicked and he blurted out, "Are you touch starved?"
Keith froze and his gaze flickered. A strained, tense silence fell over them for what felt like millions of lightyears. Lance was sweating like crazy and Keith's room felt too hot, so damn hot. He should have kept his big mouth shut. He should never have come here. He should have left it alone and he was stupid, so stupid, so, so—
"Yeah," Keith whispered, voice so quiet Lance almost missed it. "I think so."
"You're not sure?" Lance squeaked, and he didn't know if Keith not being sure was better or worse.
Keith shrugged. He was fingering his knife, turning it over and over in his hands. "Shiro told me I might be, but there hasn't been, like, a professional who said it or anything."
Keith looked smaller, younger somehow, while he sat there, playing with his knife and talking about being touch deprived in such a small voice, as if it confused him.
Lance throat squeezed so hard together it was hard to breath. "Does it hurt?"
That made Keith look up, his face startled. Lance wanted so bad to just go over and hug him, to tell him it would be okay. He would make sure it was okay.
"Does what hurt?" Keith asked, brows furrowing.
Without thinking about it, Lance had walked towards the bed. He watched Keith's reaction closely, and when he didn't look opposed, he sat down at the edge of his bed. Close, but not so close that they were touching. There was a good amount of space between them.
"Being, you know, touch starved. How does it feel? Does it itch? Is it something you can constantly feel?" He might have leaned in a little closer as he asked.
To Lances surprise, his questions made Keith smile. It was a quick show of his teeth, his lips lifting upwards as he shook his head and raised those twinkling eyes to Lance. He looked happy. So stupidly happy, and it was simply because Lance had asked such a simple question. Lance's heart stopped momentarily.
"It doesn't hurt," he said, then he frowned again as he started to think. He started to opened his mouth, "Sometimes..."
"Sometimes what?" Lance prompted, and somehow Keith seemed to need those little pushes, the little bit of prodding to show that Lance really wanted to hear what Keith had to say.
"Sometimes it... it kinda stings?" Lance hated how unsure Keith sounded, how afraid and uncertain he was, as if he was saying something wrong. "But it doesn't feel bad... does that make sense?"
"You're over-sensitive," Lance nodded. "Your skin isn't used to being touched, so of course it would feel... weird."
Keith nodded, looking down at his knife. He had stopped cleaning it long ago. He still looked small and young, huggable and in desperate need of comfort though. Keith muttered, "How... why..."
Lance scooched closer again, but still kept a little distance. He was testing the waters, seeing where the lines were. So far things seemed better than he'd expected. "I was worried," Lance said, "and I didn't understand why you were acting the way you were acting so I asked Hunk, who asked Shiro and then he explained, but I couldn't really understand it, except I knew you were hurting, and then Pidge and I read that you could die and I really just needed to ask you, like, personally, because... I can't imagine it, Keith. I'm sorry, but I can't even picture it, and I wish I could, I really do, so please, just tell me if I can help with anything? I know that a hug won't help, Shiro and Pidge already told me that smothering you in hugs might do more damage than good, so... I don't know," Lance ended quietly, a little out of breath and his hands a little shaky. "I don't know how to help, Keith. I want to, but I don't know how, and I'm sorry."
Keith was staring at him, mouth slightly agape. "Why are you sorry?"
"Because!" Lance said, too loudly, "I can't stop picturing you, all alone, without anyone, and— and I don't want that! I don't want you to ever feel alone again, okay? You don't deserve that. You don't deserve not being hugged, and not having anyone to kiss your wounds better or kiss you goodnight or hug you when you cry — and I feel so awful because I can't even..." Lance shook his head and took a deep breath, turning his gaze to Keith and holding it steady. "I don't want you to ever feel like you don't have anyone again. Okay?"
Keith nodded, still looking dazed and shocked. And then, shocking Lance, Keith reached out and held Lance's hand.
"Thank you," he whispered, and they sat there like that, holding hands. It didn't seem like much, but Lance knew. Lance knew this was a big step, for both of them.
He couldn't stop smiling.