Chapter Text
“Hey, it’s you!”
Keith looks up from his book, closing it with a soft thud at the sight of the short girl in front of him. “Oh. Hey, Pidge.”
“Keith, right?” Pidge asks, setting a few books down on the counter. Among them Keith spots a book on astrophysiology, two on the history of America, and The Giver. “I didn’t know you volunteered here.”
Keith reaches for the books, sliding them across the counter towards the old, usually broken scanner. “It’s good for my resume,” he explains with a shrug, grabbing the first book on the stack. “What brings you here?”
“Modern World History,” Pidge says. “Mr. Coran is fun and all, but kind of hard to learn from, you know? He jumps around a lot during lectures. I want to get a jump on the next quarter so I can tell what’s happening.”
“Yeah.” Keith scans the barcodes across the red light one by one, sometimes repeating them if he doesn’t hear a beep, and looking up occasionally to check the computer screen. Pidge doesn’t seem to care much about his short answers, which is both nice and a little disheartening. Although they barely interact, she’s the closest thing he’s got to a friend at school.
“I’ve seen you in my class, now that I think about it. You’re in fifth period, right?”
“I think so,” he says, not bothering to look up.
“With me and Lance. You know, Lance Fuentes? Tall and flirty? He’s got like, brown hair, and he’s always talking in class.”
Keith nods robotically, staring a hole into the book he has a hold of. Of course he knows who Lance is. How could anyone not know about Lance? He’s loud, but moreover, he’s funny and charismatic, popular in that easy-to-talk-to way that doesn’t quite buy him a place in the royal courtroom of the Garrison, but doesn’t cast him into the streets either. Lance Fuentes, annoyingly, imperfectly perfect, with a perfect smile and a perfect personality, and perfect friends like Pidge Gunderson-Holt, who’s staring at him weirdly.
He nods again, aware that he’s acting more than a little bit strange. “Yeah, we’re in the same class,” he says finally, turning his attention back to the books.
“You should come sit with us sometime. I know you don’t really like human interaction, but it might be a good change, and I’m sure Lance wouldn’t mind. I’d ask him, but he’s kind of in a bad mood right now.”
Is he here? Keith finds himself glancing around the library with bitten back hope (both that he is here and that he isn’t). He can see Hunk--Lance’s best friend as far as he can tell--poking around the History section, but aside from that there are hardly any familiar faces. Pidge seems to catch his train of thought, because she shakes her head with a sympathetic expression on her face.
“He’s holed up at home. Something embarrassing happened at school earlier, so he’s kinda just sulking on his own right now.” She sighs, shaking her head in exasperation. “Honestly, he’s such a drama queen. I keep telling him it’s not that big of a deal, but he’s acting like it’s the end of the world.”
That explains why he’d looked so upset during Geometry. Poor guy. Keith shakes his head as if he’s agreeing with Pidge, handing her books back with the pink return receipt stuck into the pages of the top one. “Due date’s in two weeks.”
“Thanks,” she says, voice muffled behind the giant stack of books. (He’d offer her a bag, but she seems to be doing alright on her own.) When it’s clear that he’s not going to say anything else, she turns away and starts heading back towards Hunk. She hasn’t gotten more than a few feet away before she stops and turns around again. “You know, Keith, you really should come have lunch with us someday. Like I said, I know you’re not really a social butterfly, but Hunk and Lance are easy to be friends with, and you already know me.”
“I’ll think about it,” Keith lies. Yeah, like he’d ever even consider something like that. As much as his dad and stepmom are pushing him to join clubs and be social, he can’t bring himself to talk to any of the kids in his classes. Most are complete idiots--not school smart, street smart, or capable of the simplest logic--and the ones who aren’t are either complete jerks or surprisingly intimidating.
Okay, more specifically, Lance is intimidating. As easygoing as he seems, it still feels like an impossible task to walk up and say hi. Keith’s never really gotten as far as trying, but he can imagine how hard it would be.
Lance is in four of Keith’s classes this semester and had been in five the one before, which has given Keith plenty of time to observe him and his friends. Pidge is a lot like Keith, and she always says hi when they’re in close enough proximity; Hunk is sweet and funny, but they’ve never exchanged more than a few words at a time; and Lance is…
Pidge squints at him for a second, like she doesn’t quite believe him. “You should,” she says finally, slowly, before turning back to Hunk. “Anyway, I’ll see you later.”
“Later,” Keith echoes to her turned back as she walks away. He sighs, fanning the pages of the book he’d been reading to get some dust out from between the pages. (The library doesn’t get much use, as far as he can tell, and Please Don’t Kill the Freshman isn’t exactly a popular read.)
Poor Lance. Whatever happened to him must have been something pretty big, if his mood in Geometry had been anything to go by. He’s usually a pretty optimistic person, and although he does complain and sulk quite often, it’s never really… well, it’s never serious. He always puts a playful spin on his negative emotions, so it had been weird to see him genuinely upset.
Keith has never spoken to Lance, but he’s been paying attention to him practically since the beginning of the year. Ever since the first week of school, Lance has captured his attention. He’d seemed annoying at first, but over time Keith had found himself smiling at Lance’s bad jokes and paying more attention to him when they were in the same room. He’s thought about reaching out-- would reach out, if he were still back at his old school. But now?
The Garrison is… Well, it’s something. It’s a lot bigger than Galra Polytechnic was, with more students, more clubs and teams, and bigger classes. The staff and teachers aren’t exactly friendly, save for a few of the younger or quirkier ones, and the students tend to lean towards the surlier side of teenagedom for the most part. It’s not what Keith had hoped for, but it’s better than he’d expected. Sometimes. Still, it’s been hard to fit in, especially because everybody already seems to know each other. Nobody’s exactly looking for new friends.
Keith closes his book gently, setting it into his bag, and pulls out his phone instead. He’s got a few texts from his dad, an email from one of his friends at Galra Polytechnic, some Instagram notifications (not that he ever goes on there, anyway) and a message on the Garrison’s school system messenger.
The Garrison has its own messaging system, kind of a mashup of Skype and Gmail, and each of the Garrison’s students has a profile until they graduate. It’s supposed to be for group projects or for reaching other students who don’t give their numbers out, but most people just use it for its group chat feature. Keith has never, not even once, gotten a message on it.
He slides it open, inputs his school password, and taps on the text. There are two unread messages from Auxia which he quickly opens.
3:56 pm
Acxa: Keith, do you want to go to a party with me this weekend?
Acxa: My friend is hosting and she said I could bring my brother.
Keith frowns. He’s still not used to being someone’s brother. Auxia--or Acxa, as she prefers--is nice and smart, and about as far from intrusive as someone can be, but they’re not blood related. She’s a senior, about half a year away from graduating, so when her mom and Keith’s dad had gotten married, they’d decided to move into the Cadbury residence so she could finish high school in the same place.
Of course, that decision had caused essentially all of Keith’s current problems, but he’s not about to go and complain. Sarah makes his dad happy, and that’s what’s important.
He starts typing out a response, only to delete it and start over again.
4:20 pm
Keith-Yeun: No, thanks
Keith-Yeun: I’ve got studying to do
He tacks the last part on as an afterthought, since it had seemed a little blunt. Not a second later, the ‘Acxa is typing…’ message pops up at the bottom of his screen.
4:21 pm
Acxa: It could be an interesting experience
Acxa: I know you don’t get out a lot
Keith-Yeun: I’m fine, thanks
Acxa: Okay, but I’ll ask again soon.
Acxa: Is this your first time using the messenger?
Keith-Yeun: Yeah
Acxa: You should change your username to something other than the school default.
Keith glares at his phone, letting out a little huff. It’s not like he’ll be using the messenger much, and he’d rather not have to make up some stupid username.
4:22 pm
Keith-Yeun: Like what?
Acxa: Maybe a nickname?
Acxa: Do you have any?
Keith-Yeun: Do I seem like the kind of person who has a nickname?
Acxa: You might have had one back at Galra.
Keith-Yeun: Well I’m not at Galra anymore
Acxa: Hm…
Keith-Yeun: What.
Acxa: What about Mullet Man?
Keith-Yeun: No
Acxa: Knife Guy?
Keith-Yeun: No.
Acxa: Well, think about it.
Keith-Yeun: I won’t
Acxa: Think about the party, too.
Keith-Yeun: No, and I’m surprised you’re actually going
Keith-Yeun: You don’t seem like the partying type
Acxa: I do what I want
Acxa: Also, Ezor invited me, so.
Keith-Yeun: Sure, whatever
Keith sighs, exiting the messenger. He’d rather step on hot nails than go to one of Acxa’s friends’ parties, no matter how responsibly monitored or self-contained they are, but he knows he’ll be dragged into it either way. He lets his head fall down onto his arms, mind wandering back to Lance.
Maybe it was a bad grade, or a fight with a friend, or something like that. Maybe Lance got in trouble at home, or maybe one of the more strict teachers called him out for swearing in class. Keith honestly doesn’t know what could have happened that’s so bad that it’s noticeable--Lance is normally the epitome of a happy, carefree person; a single positive light in Keith’s life.
Lance hadn’t looked like himself, earlier in the day. He’d seemed devastated, not to mention embarrassed, and not even Hunk could cheer him up. And Keith just wants him to feel better, maybe because it will make him feel better to be able to watch them laugh and talk and yell like they normally do. It’s selfish, but there’s no one there to know except himself.
But like he said before, Lance--despite being happy and kind--is also intimidating. He’s been going to the Garrison since middle school, and he’s known Hunk and Pidge for years. How would Keith, of all people, be able to cheer him up if everyone else can’t?
Maybe… Maybe he should try. Maybe Pidge is right; he should take a chance for once. School is pretty boring, anyway, especially in the classes he has without Lance and his friends, so it couldn’t hurt to try something different. He should just go up and ask if Lance is okay, maybe take Pidge up on her offer to sit with them. What’s the worst thing that could happen?
He chooses not to think about the answer.
The rest of the night drags by slowly, and yet by the time Tuesday rolls around, it’s all too soon. Keith spends most of History on the edge of his seat, glancing over at Lance and Pidge every two seconds. He’s jittery--he barely takes any notes, and he doesn’t retain anything from the lecture Coran is presenting. (Pidge is right--it’s seriously hard to follow.)
The bell rings, and students file out of the class in a thick crowd. Keith shoves his binders in his backpack and looks around the classroom, searching for Lance and Pidge. There--on their way out the door into the main hall. Keith hurries to the door, trying to catch Lance before he disappears into the swarm of students.
Pidge’s voice carries over the hum of the hallway. “I’m just saying, he won’t-”
“Um, Lance?”
Keith’s voice comes out quiet--he clears his throat and tries again. “Uh, Lance?”
Lance glances back--not at him, but a little to his left. Still not loud enough. “Did you-”
“Come on ,” Pidge interrupts, pulling him away. “We can’t be late again.”
Keith sighs, shoulders slumping as he watches them disappear towards the lockers, probably to meet up with Hunk. There goes his chance to get this out of the way quickly. The three of them have Physics together next, and then lunch, and then Keith doesn’t see him again until P.E. the next day, which isn’t a very good place for conversation. If he doesn’t do it today, he might never work up the confidence again.
The science room is half-filled with sophomores when he arrives, most of them on their phones. Keith takes his normal spot at the quietest table and pulls out his notebooks and pencils, doing his best not to glance up at the door every two minutes. Maybe this is a bad idea. Lance is talkative, meaning that there’s not a lot of time when Keith can approach him. He really doesn’t want to start a conversation during lunch, and the halls are too loud and crowded to talk in. His plan had been a short, quiet conversation-slash-introduction, but with the way things are going so far, he might actually have to yell to get noticed.
Not like he actually would, but still.
After he’s done everything that he can to distract himself--organizing his binders and supplies by size, color, and least to most favorite--he looks up again. It’s two minutes to class, and Lance and Pidge still aren’t at their normal table yet. Something tells him that today isn’t his day.
But he can’t give up. He’s not going to give up.
He hears footsteps behind him and turns quickly to see Lance and Pidge making their way down the hall. “Hey, Lance,” he calls, reaching a hand out as if to stop him in place. If the bell just holds off for thirty--no, ten more seconds--he’ll be able to get out a quick “I hope you feel better”. Just five seconds-
“Huh?” Lance turns around in confusion, scanning the sea of faces just as the bell rings. Pidge motions for him to sit down just as the science teacher, Ms. Sauceda, walks through the door. The bell rings, and Keith slumps in his chair dejectedly, ignoring the sounds of class beginning around him in favor of moping. Clearly, the universe isn’t in his favor today--but then again, when has it ever been?
There’s a lot of preparation for the school’s annual egg drop during Physics. Keith overhears (read: eavesdrops on) a conversation between Pidge and Lance about Hunk being the reigning champion of the Garrison egg drop contest. He watches out of the corner of his eye as Lance scoffs at something Pidge says, rolling his sea-blue eyes dramatically.
“Are you having trouble coming up with a design idea, Keith?” Ms. Sauceda asks kindly. Keith shakes his head, turning back to his own table.
“I’m alright, thanks,” he says, hoping she won’t ask about the completely blank sheet of graph paper that’s sitting in front of him. Luckily, somebody else calls for help and soon he’s on his own again.
With a sigh, he grabs a pencil from a pocket in his bag and starts brainstorming ideas. Lance might be distracting, but he’s not going to keep Keith from his work. It’s not like he’s totally, helplessly obsessed with him or anything.
Right?
A little over an hour and a half later, the bell rings and students start to gather up their supplies. Keith takes the two best designs for his project to the stack of papers at the front of the room, passing Lance’s table on the way. He’s nervous--over a boy, of all things. It’s definitely not his lowest moment, but it’s pretty far down.
Luckily, when he turns around, Lance and Pidge are still there. Pidge is stacking her books and binders into a messy pile while Lance shoves papers into his backpack.
“Hey, Lance?” Keith says, his voice catching in his throat again. “Uh, I just wanted to know if-”
“Hey, Keith!” Pidge exclaims, catching sight of him. “Lance, this is Keith.”
“Hey,” Lance says, barely bothering to look up as he crams a blue folder into his bag. Keith waves despite his lack of attention.
“So, did you decide to take me up on my offer?” Pidge asks, raising her eyebrow. “Or are you just here to steal our plans for the egg drop?”
“No, I- I wanted to know if- Uh…” Keith looks between Lance and Pidge uncertainly. “Um, if you guys were going to use a parachute or not,” he finishes lamely.
“Oh. Well, yeah, we probably are. Although, the no-parachute category does intrigue me.” Pidge scratches her head, considering, before turning back to Keith. “Was that really all you came for?”
He’s been given a second chance; it would be a shame not to use it. “Actually, I wanted to know if Lance is okay,” he admits, glancing at Lance quickly. “Since, you know, you told me something bad happened yesterday.”
Pidge’s expression is one of surprise. “Oh, really? Well, Lance-”
The door to the classroom opens, and a tall student with long, dark hair enters. He looks familiar, but Keith can’t quite remember where he’s seen him before. Lance and Pidge both freeze as he scans the classroom, then heads towards the front.
“Pidge, let’s go,” Lance hisses, pulling his backpack over his hunched shoulders. Pidge nods, grabbing her own bag and following Lance towards the exit.
“Wait, but I-” Keith starts, unwilling to let Lance go again.
“Look, can you just-” Lance sighs in frustration, runs a hand through his already messy hair, then shakes his head. “I’m busy right now. Another time, okay?”
Keith watches them go despondently, standing in the main aisle of the classroom until the door slams closed. He sighs, hoists his backpack onto his shoulders, and turns.
The boy from before is looking at him strangely, but turns away as their eyes meet. Keith frowns, shrugs it off, and goes to bag up the rest of his things.
He’s run out of time. He’s going to need a new plan.
Reluctantly, he heads down the hall to the cafeteria, taking a seat at an empty table within observing distance of Lance’s usual table. (Because he’s a creep and an emotional masochist, okay?) It looks like the hot lunch of the day is hamburgers, which are only a step up from those greasy pizza rolls that nobody eats. He’s wondering if it would actually be healthier to skip lunch instead of eating ninety-eight percent artificial food like the rest of the school, when his phone vibrates in his pocket. It’s a message from Acxa.
11:39 am
Acxa: Why so down?
Keith glances around suspiciously, then turns back to his phone.
Keith-Yeun: Are you watching me?
Acxa: No, Ezor is.
Keith-Yeun: Why?
Acxa: Are you going to answer my question?
Acxa: You look like someone just recycled the love letter you shoved in their locker.
Keith-Yeun: Ha ha.
Keith-Yeun: Are you done?
Acxa: For now.
Acxa: Anything I can help with?
Keith-Yeun: No, I’m alright
Acxa: You want to come sit with us?
Keith-Yeun: No, it’s fine
Acxa: Just head over if you change your mind
Keith-Yeun: Thanks
Keith looks in the direction of Lance’s table, where a couple of people are lingering--probably whispering not so nice things, too, if their expressions are anything to go by--and then down at his phone. Axca’s comment about notes in lockers is ridiculous, sure, but it’s also starting to give him an idea.
It’s stupid, and really overly cliche--but it’s not like he’ll ever have a chance to talk to Lance otherwise. He’s always around Hunk and Pidge, and the only classes he has without them are ones Keith isn’t in either. But maybe if he could talk to Lance a different way…
Keith knows a few things about the Garrison messaging system. It’s an official school system, but it’s monitored by specific trustworthy upperclassmen--most of whom are seniors who are busy with classes and extracurriculars. The public parts of students’ pages--usernames, profile pictures, and a space for a quote--are customizable, while the behind-the-scenes parts--the student’s legal name, birth date, whatever information’s in the school system--are permanent. But there’s also a private account option, which minimizes the amount of public information other students can see on the profile down to just the chat nickname. The faculty can still see everything, but to everyone else it’s completely hidden.
Maybe he can “customize” his profile a little, until it’s not quite recognizable as his, and then message Lance through the system. If things go bad, he can unsend all his messages and delete the conversation, and if they work out, he can casually reveal himself and maybe, possibly, slowly work towards getting to know Lance more.
It’s not a foolproof plan, but it really is the best he’s got.
Keith opens the messenger again and goes to his profile. He’s got a pretty bare one as far as customization, since he only started using it yesterday, which means all he has to do for now is change the name.
But to what? It has to be something that can’t be easily connected to him, like all of Acxa’s suggestions from yesterday can. Anonymous fits in too well with the secret admirer trope, which he definitely is not. He could do something generic like that-one-guy or creative-nickname, or something funny and random like gay-strawberry, since he likes red and dresses like a seedy drug dealer. But he’s not funny and random, and he’d never choose that name voluntarily, so he crosses it off the list almost immediately.
If only he had someone to ask, like all those bad high school movies where both main characters are pining for each other and gushing about it to their friends. (Not that he’s pining. He’s not that pathetic.) Sadly, the only person he’d even consider calling his friend here is Pidge, and he doesn’t really get the whole let’s-talk-about-boys vibe from her, so the perfect nickname remains unknown.
Unknown.
He almost smacks himself in the face for not thinking of it sooner. It may be a little cliche as well, but it’s perfect --simple, blunt, no-nonsense, and straight to the point, just like him. It’s not as cheesy as Anonymous, but a lot better than something like gay-strawberry. He types it into the nickname slot, then goes into settings and turns on the private account mode, just in case things don’t work out. Now for the hard part: the actual message.
Should he be direct, or work his way around to asking if Lance is okay? He should definitely get past “Hi” or he’ll probably be ignored, and he can’t come off too creepy or else he’ll get reported. Maybe he should scrap the whole idea and go back to watching from afar.
He looks over at Lance’s table again, where the older kids are still lurking. One of them whispers something to the other, who snickers cruelly, eyeing Lance out of the corner of their eye. Lance bows his head and stares down at his food miserably, while Pidge glares at the upperclassmen.
And Keith thinks that if he can make Lance feel even a little bit better, it will all be worth it.
He debates what to say to Lance throughout the rest of lunch, into the last two periods of the day, and during almost the entirety of his shift at the library. Finally, he throws all his ideas out the window and gets straight to the point with only two messages: hey as an opening line, followed by you seemed really upset yesterday. are you okay?
It takes a few hours for Lance to respond, and he almost unsends the messages more times than he’d like to admit--because he’s not a coward, okay, he just wants to survive his first year at the Garrison without being labeled a creep. But around twenty minutes past nine at night, a new message pops in from his notifications.
9:18 pm
Dancing-Bi-Myself: Hey, thanks for asking
Dancing-Bi-Myself: I’m alright, just being dramatic
Dancing-Bi-Myself: By the way, I don’t think I know you
Dancing-Bi-Myself: This is Lance, in case you have the wrong guy. What’s your name?
Keith reads the messages three or four times, reveling in the fact that he hasn’t been shut down yet. Lance almost seems… friendly.
Maybe this will work out after all. Maybe he’s finally found his chance. His luck is due for a change any time now, after the past few months. If he keeps this up without something going terribly wrong, he might actually have a shot at making a few friends.
He picks up his phone and types out a new message with shaking hands, unable to contain his nervous hope.
9:24 pm
unknown: no, i have the right person
unknown: and my name is keith
Despite staying up later than he’d like to admit waiting for a reply, Keith’s phone remains sadly silent for the rest of the night, and well into the morning. He’s beginning to have doubts--or maybe it’s just the adrenaline rush from Lance’s first reply wearing thin. Either way, he’s so nervous that he checks his phone five times in the same amount of minutes on the bus ride to school. Still nothing.
Has Lance given up on him? It wouldn’t be much of a surprise. After all, he probably doesn’t even know who Keith is in real life, despite Pidge introducing him yesterday. Maybe he’s just decided to ignore the rest of the messages, now that he knows who Keith is.
He hovers over the few messages he and Lance have exchanged, wondering if he should just delete everything and forget the whole experience ever happened. But he still has a tiny bit of hope left--maybe Lance broke his phone, or maybe he’s just exceptionally busy. It’s not very likely, but Keith figures that he’s gotten too far to give up now. He’ll give it twenty-four hours, and if there’s still no reply, he’ll forget about Unknown forever.
The bus pulls up to the Garrison and the doors swing open. Keith calls a quiet thank you to the driver before hopping out, still clutching his phone as he walks to the door. He’s early; the doors to the gym don’t open for five minutes, so he takes a seat on the steps that lead to the basement. A few students are hanging around as well, but none of them spare him a glance.
Keith sets his phone down on the step next to him and attempts to think about something other than Lance. It should be easy; after all, nobody’s that obsessed with someone they’ve never even had a proper conversation with. He turns the volume on his phone up and zones out not quite listening to whatever playlist he has on, content people-watching until class starts. At least nobody is paying any attention to him.
His song ends just in time for him to catch a familiar voice. Keith quickly pauses his music and angles himself away a little, so his back is facing the doors that lead to the stairs.
“I would have,” Lance is saying--because of course it’s Lance. “It’s just that my phone didn’t charge last night, and it was completely dead when I woke up. I would have been late if Pilar’s alarm didn’t wake me up, too.”
“So you just asked them their name and never responded?” Hunk asks as the two of them pass Keith on the steps.
“Yeah, pretty much. Allura’s letting me charge my phone in her room, though, so I’ll get to it after first period.”
Keith waits until they’ve rounded the corner and are just out of earshot before grabbing his backpack and phone and walking quickly after them. They have to be talking about Unknown, and he really wants to hear the end. If Lance really hadn’t had enough battery to respond this morning, that means he hadn’t been ignoring Keith on purpose. There’s still hope.
“You really think they’re gonna tell you, though? I mean, they must have gone all anonymous for a reason,” Hunk says doubtfully, dropping his backpack just outside the gym.
“I don’t know, dude,” Lance says. “Maybe it’s a cute girl or something. I’ll take my chances.”
“Alright,” Hunk agrees, sounding wary. “But isn’t it a little creepy that some anonymous stranger decided to message you? They could have at least used their real name.”
“Maybe they’re shy?”
“Maybe. Just… be careful, okay? We don’t know anything about this Unknown person. They could be working with Rolo, or maybe they have old connections to Florona’s ex.”
“I promise I’ll be careful,” Lance sighs, setting his own bag down. “Jeez, Hunk, you don’t trust anyone.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Hunk agrees, “but I’d stay way far on the cautious side if I were you. Something about this whole anonymous messenger thing… I don’t know, it’s creepy.”
“It’s probably just some gawky freshman,” Lance says dismissively. “I’m not that concerned for my safety. But it is kinda a weird thing to do.”
Coach Brooks blows her whistle as the bell rings, signifying the beginning of class. Keith stands there dumbly, watching Hunk and Lance walk away. Creepy. Weird. Of course that’s what they’d think of him. This is high school, after all, and not in a teen-romance-novel kind of way.
What was he thinking?
I need to unsend those messages, Keith thinks, starting to panic. And quickly, before Lance finds out who I am . His phone is in his backpack, which is outside the gym door with everyone else’s. He could ask Brooks if he can go get some water, but she probably wouldn’t agree so early into the class. And as much as he’d like to sneak out to get his phone, he knows there’s a pretty good chance that someone will catch him. He’s on most of the teachers’ good sides right now, and he doesn’t want to mess that up.
Lance’s phone is in Allura’s room upstairs. That means that Keith should have enough time to unsend all his messages and delete the conversation before it’s too late. He can fix this. It’s going to be okay.
He’s jittery and distracted throughout all of first period, only managing to focus when they finish with their basketball drills and start in on the actual game. He easily scores his team a few points before backing off and letting the jocks steal the show. Still, he runs a little harder than necessary and successfully tires himself out enough to stop worrying about the messages for now. Exercise has always helped him take his mind off things, the harder the better.
Lance is on the opposing team, while Hunk is with Keith. The two best friends throw playful jibes at each other across the court, always trying to make it harder for the other one to score. Lance’s mood seems to be lightening, too, with the distraction of the game to keep him busy. That is, until a tall, athletic boy with bright blue hair knocks the ball out of Lance’s hands, whispering something in Lance’s ear and making a condescending face as he leaves. Lance’s smile drops in a split second.
Keith may or may not go a little bit harder on blue-haired-guy just for that.
Brooks calls them over five minutes before class ends to talk to them about technique. She praises Keith’s abilities along with blue-haired-guy and a few of his friends, which earns him a couple of dirty looks from the star athletes in the class. The bell rings and Keith jumps up, hurrying towards the door as fast as he can. It will be fine, he thinks, watching Lance and Hunk make their way out the door.
“Keith, hold on a second,” Coach Brooks calls, marking something down on her attendance clipboard. Keith almost groans out loud. This can’t be happening.
“Yeah?” he prods, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“I wanted to let you know that I’m giving well-behaved students with good grades preference when I pick my teams next year,” Brooks says, not looking up. “I’m not sure where you’d fit on a football team, but basketball and soccer are always open to you.”
“Uh, thanks,” Keith says, glancing towards the door. He’d rather die than join a Garrison sports team with those six-feet-tall popular kids that are straight out of some high school sitcom, but he figures arguing won’t get him out the door any faster.
“I hope you’ll at least take the time to try out,” Brooks continues, finally glancing up at him. “Colleges look for things like that on resumes, you know. But you’ve got until next year to make up your mind.”
“I’ll think about it,” Keith lies.
“Good. You’ve got potential, you know? I bet you’d make a good goalie.”
“Maybe.”
They’re the last ones in the gym. Lance has probably already gotten to his phone by now. Oh god, Keith’s gonna have to run away and change his name, or something equally as dramatic. Maybe he’ll call himself Unknown, just for the sake of irony, and maybe he can become the world’s next cryptid. The man who hides from the world because he did something stupid once and will never live it down: Shame Man.
“Keith? You can go now, if you want.”
“Huh? Oh, okay.” Keith nods curtly, then spins on his heel and sprints towards the door. It’s too late , he keeps thinking, over and over as he grabs his phone from the top of his backpack and furiously types in the passcode. The screen automatically opens to his chat with Lance, where he’d left it before. The messenger says the message is unseen.
Holy shit, there’s still time.
Keith taps and holds on the last message, my name is keith , until a little pop-up appears. He taps the unsend message option while the school’s notoriously slow wifi buffers, and finally-- finally --the message disappears.
Keith breathes a sigh of relief. Now for the next one-
The little seen icon pops up next to the next message, and then the Dancing-Bi-Myself is typing… message appears. Keith panics, almost drops his phone, and exits the chat even faster than he’d run in class today. Two seconds later, a notification pops up on his screen, immediately followed by another.
Dancing-Bi-Myself: Keeping your identity a secret? Mysterious
Dancing-Bi-Myself: I’m intrigued
Keith’s heart pounds in his chest unevenly. Oh crap. Shit. Fuck. Lance is responding .
He’s dead.