Chapter Text
His depression had come back without him noticing, and it was in full swing. He could still distract himself thanks to his ADHD, but distractions only helped the symptoms, not the disease. But it didn’t matter. He couldn’t concentrate even if he wanted to.
Not able to pay his full attention to what was in front of him, Lance was making mistake after mistake. It was clear after only a couple of missions that he wasn’t good at his job, wasn’t good at being a paladin. And not being a good paladin means people suffered because of his own simple, stupid failings.
It was easy to hide his mistakes from the others at first, but they had been piling up. Soon, everyone would see the damage he had caused. And Lance knew that as soon as failures come to light, those that he respects and calls friends would turn on him. How could they not?
So Lance stopped sparring with Keith. He hid from Coran when there was cleaning to be done. He refrained from checking up on Pidge. He no longer asked for advice from Shiro. He neglected to make sure Allura took a break. And he avoided the kitchen and Hunk at all costs.
He withdrew to his room at first, and then other parts of the castle that weren’t in use. It helped Lance to be in an environment he wasn’t familiar with, made it easier to keep reality and his shortcomings at bay.
But a reckoning was coming. The only thing to do was to brace and wait.
But nothing changed. No one confronted him. They would ask him in passing if he was doing okay. Lance would say, “I’m fine” and the socially-expected small talk would end there. In the meantime, he would keep making mistakes, causing damage, and bringing Voltron down with him.
Even still, the cracks were widening. Something had to change.
Lance could feel his anxiety starting to grow as he waited. In the brief interactions he had with his team, he could tell they knew. How could they not see how much damage he’d caused in Voltron’s name and not one person confront him about it?
Shiro asked Lance if he could help. “No, its okay.” It was his own problem, not Shiro’s to deal with.
Hunk cornered him into agreeing to lunch the next day. It would be nice, but ultimately meaningless.
He could even see Keith pitying him from across the room during briefings.
He appreciated the compassion. Really, he did. But it still didn’t change that Lance was a leech that was also somehow a paladin. If no one else would do something about him, he would.
Lance had made that promise to himself a week ago, but so far, he lacked the strength to do anything. He couldn’t even keep a promise to himself. God, the levels of his own patheticness astounded him sometimes.
And so he continued to sludge through, day after day, just waiting for someone to kick him off the team to make room for someone better who wouldn’t hamper the success of Voltron.
After one particularly disastrous and unproductive mission, Lance found himself sitting on the ground and staring out at the stars on the observation deck. Pidge would be working on an upgrade for green; Coran tuning up the engines; Allura making last minute alterations to their heading. Hunk could either be in the kitchen or helping Pidge. Keith would most likely be training, and he honestly didn’t know Shiro well enough to know what he did in his freetime, but he knew it wouldn’t be as useless as staring out a window.
But sometimes fate, for all its cruelty, actually strokes the wheels of change to end stagnation.
“This seems like fun.”
He whipped his head around to see Keith, whose eyes were focused on the expanse of space. Lance only shrugged and returned to watching the stars slowly pass the castle by. “Not really.”
“Then why not do something else?”
“This is the only thing that makes sense anymore.”
Lance hoped his vagueness would end the conversation rather than incite more questions. It was a safe bet considering to whom he was talking.
Keith didn’t give a verbal response, but instead sat cross-legged next to him.
The silence was comfortable. No expectations to keep up a front of being okay. And it was nice not being alone.
“What have you been up to lately?”
Really? Keith was making small talk? Now Lance had to put real effort to make it sound like his reply had some energy.
“Oh, you know. This and that.” His response didn’t even have enough energy to his own ears, so he tacked on a, “the last mission was just exhausting.”
“Yeah, it was,” Keith let out in a sigh. But it clearly wasn’t the answer that he was looking for. “How are you doing?”
“I”m okay. Well, as okay we can be floating out in space being tasked to save the universe.”
Lance had an inward sigh of relief when Keith didn’t immediately respond. It’s not like Lance wanted to hide his failures and all the damage from his teammates, but he also didn’t want to cause them trouble. If they knew, they would have to clean up his mess.
“No, you’re not. You’re lying.”
Lance tore his eyes off the stars to glance sideways at Keith, who was still staring out the window and most notably, not looking at Lance. “You’re right, but I also know no one ever wants an actual answer to that question. It’s the same as ‘Good Morning,’ or ‘Hello.’ Just small talk so you come across a normal, polite human being.”
“Do I seem like a ‘normal, polite human being’ to you?”
Lance had to acquiesce a smile. “No, not really.”
“Then tell me what’s really going on with you,” demanded Keith. As brash as it felt, Keith’s usual pushiness relaxed Lance, made the conversation feel normal.
But Lance still had to ensure that Keith knew what he was signing up for. “Are you sure you really want to know?”
“I am sure that you really want to tell me.”
Lance would take it. He needed to vent and there is the remote possibility that Keith was actually paying attention.
“Fine, but you literally asked for it.” Lance took a deep breath before casting a final glance at Keith. His jaw was tense, but he was still looking out the window.
Lance purged. Every mistake, every possible consequence, Lance spilled them all at Keith’s feet. He spat out every depressed, anxious, contradictory thought he had; repeated and talked himself in circles. Gross, snotty tears even made an appearance or four. On Lance’s face of course, not Keith’s.
It was horrifying, exhausting, and relieving to finally have an audience for what he had been going through. Finally someone knew his pain and believed him, probably. He swore to Keith that it wasn’t all just for attention. It couldn’t be. There had to be a purpose for his suffering.
Inhaling a deep breath after having talked himself out, he turned towards Keith, who was still looking out the window.
“Were you even listening to me?” Lance’s question came across as more accusatory than he intended and Lance certainly didn’t want to make Keith any more annoyed than he probably already was. “It’s okay if you weren’t. I totally get it. It’s all just excuses---”
“It was a lot,” Keith interrupted. “Sorry, I’m just processing it all and I find it easier to think and pay attention if I’m not looking at your face.”
“What’s wrong with my face?” Through his own pout, Lance could feel his smile. In this small moment, he felt a little like regular Lance again: the Lance that was actually useful and liked.
Keith finally broke his stare with the stars to look at something behind Lance. “Oh, no. Not your face in particular. Just faces in general. They make me uncomfortable.”
“Uncomfortable?”
“Yeah. You know what they say, ‘windows to the soul’ and all that.”
“Faces make you more uncomfortable than anything I just said?”
“Well, yeah. What you said actually made sense.” Lance just stared him. Keith quickly glanced at his expression before looking away and responding, “Well, not the words you used, but now I know you aren’t okay. You should tell Shiro. He could help you.”
“I’m definitely not telling Shiro that I’ve been fucking up so much that I need help.”
“Why not? I do.”
Lance, stunned and also desperate for a change in subject, asked, “what could you possibly need help with?”
“A lot, and I’ll tell you the details some other time. But why not ask Shiro for help?”
Fine, but only because Keith was insistent that Lance be selfish and make this conversation about Lance. “Because a lot of reasons.”
“Like?”
“Ugh, fine,” Lance groaned dramatically before his face fell once again into a somber frown. “I respect the guy. I certainly don’t want him to know that I’m so much less than everyone else. Plus, I would only be throwing my problems at him to fix. No one wants that.”
“I do.”
“What?”
“Why do you think I asked if you were okay?”
Lance couldn’t look at Keith. But now, Keith was finally looking at Lance.
“I don’t know,” Lance eventually answered, but the small amount of normal that he had found earlier had vanished, leaving only the feeling of complete and utter failure in his attempts to be a normal human being in its place.
“Neither do I. That’s why I was asking you.”
“Asshole.”