Chapter Text
~In another life, I would make you stay
So I don't have to say you were the one that got away
The one that got away~
-Katy Perry-
Now
Shiro definitely puts too much sugar in the coffee he makes. Far too much.
It's like he's trying to make his little brother have to pay more for dental. He doesn't get how the man can stand that much sweetness in his drink. Keith has only ever met one other person who liked their coffee that cavity-inducingly sweet, and he doesn't like to think about them anymore.
Keith grimaces at the coffee mug like it's just assaulted him (which he wouldn't say is too far off.) Shiro doesn't even do it to spite him, he just feels like every human can handle that kind of poison. But, poison or not, it's caffeine, and he's not going to waste it.
He takes his time chugging down the contents of the mug, feeling Shiro's scrutinising gaze on him with every gulp. When he finally places his empty cup back on the scratched up counter with a sigh, Shiro decides that's his cue to speak up.
"So, what was so important that you had to wake me up at four in the morning?" he laughs, albeit tiredly. Right, maybe the sugar load-on is to try to wake them both up. Keith doesn't blame him for being tired. "We both know you've only called Code Brogane once, Keith…" Shiro says, a little unsure.
Keith's not surprised. Code Brogane means something big if Keith uses it.
Keith couldn't sleep —something he's found to be a common occurrence in the last few years— and that's when he started thinking about his life —the past five years that consisted of him dropping out of university, as well as almost every friendship or relationship he had— and came to the conclusion that it was time to get his shit together .
He had been to one of his meetings, and he had met a girl. Choppy, pixie-cut copper hair and big round glasses. She was easy to get along with, and she shared a lot in common with Keith. So when she mentioned that she was in Garrison University in New York, it struck him in his core.
That night, the feelings came. It started out as an itch. It lingered under his skin and only grew with time, getting harder to ignore. It was a voice in the back of his head telling him to do something. Something . It was only around half two when his subconscious decided that something was his music, pushing him to open one of his guitar cases, that was, honestly, covered in a thick sheet of dust. But as he readjusted the strings to be in tune and began plucking, nothing really sparked —his block still there— but this itch just would not leave . So he did the only thing he could think of. The one thing about his life that's stayed consistent through the last five years.
He called his big brother and activated their... 'brogane code' as Shiro had named it a few years ago. Keith still hates the name.
And that's how he finds himself here, sitting in the kitchen of Shiro and Adam's house, slumped in his stool at the counter. The fluorescent lights rain down on them both as Keith rethinks this whole decision.
The thing is, Keith has never been good with confrontation. Even as a child, Keith was so stubborn to not cross a difficult subject that it lead to the development of his quiet, closed off demeanor. His mother was the only one who could get young Keith to speak up about things. And when Keith got older, there was only one person who he ever really opened up to enough to the point of pure vulnerability.
But neither of them people are here anymore. And Shiro is someone he trusts whole-heartedly, but since… that happened, it's been harder for Keith to open up to anyone.
If Keith's being truthful, the growing anxiety under his skin, and his strumming of a random discordant that matches his heart's staccato, paired with the fluorescent lighting of the kitchen— is making this conversation feel like an interrogation. He contemplates just running for the door and acting as if this never happened. Catching the train home to cower under his quilts until Shiro forgets about it and they can go on like they have for the past two years.
The door was only a few feet away—
"Nope. You're not running." The finality in Shiro's voice is enough to make Keith deflate, slumping in his stool. "Besides," Shiro speaks up, "I locked it. You act like I haven't been your brother for your whole life."
Keith huffs out a breath. He crosses his arms on the counter and leans forward to rest his chin on them in an attempt to avoid Shiro's gaze to his right. "You're cruel."
Shiro laughs, but doesn't speak up. Keith knows that his brother wants him to open up, to do what he came here to do. They're both silent for five minutes, a battle of who will crack first.
But, of course, Keith could never match Shiro's level of patience.
"Fine." He sits up again and rests his elbows on the surface in front of them, cupping his head with his sleeve covered hands from the oversized hoodie that swallows his whole figure. "I need help."
Shiro raises a brow as he hums, encouraging Keith to elaborate.
He thinks over what exactly he needs help with. He's not entirely sure. He just knows he's done being in this emotional and physical slump, and that he wants to do something about it.
But what does he want to do?
There's the option of going back to school to do his music, but he still feels the block like it's a brick wall between him and the creative part of his brain. He knows it will come back to him someday —not sure when, but he knows it will— he just needs to figure out how. He's not been one for sitting and waiting.
Well, he isn't anymore.
But now, he's tired of his own shit. He knows he needs to grow up and act like the twenty-three year old he is.
"I'm just… I want to be better," He admits. It's vague. He knows it is. Especially because he is better, very much so. And everyone wishes to stop feeling numb, don't they? "The accident was five years ago, I want to be normal again. Therapy has worked, but it's almost over. I've spent years just trying to get healthy again, so I don't know what I'll do when that's no longer my main focus." he pouts, the last of his sentence being more of a mumble as he looks up to Shiro like a lost puppy that needs a home.
His brother puts his cup back down to the polished granite surface and regards Keith with a gentle smile. He opens his mouth to respond, but both their attention is snapped to the sound of someone —obviously Adam— coming down the stairs. They're heavy and uncoordinated steps, obviously due to the time of night... Morning?
But it isn't Adam who comes into the kitchen first, and instead, it’s a massive siberian husky— dark fur with eyes so bright Keith feels like he could communicate with the dog if he let him. He comes bounding in and all but tackles Keith at the sight of his previous owner.
"Hey, Kosmo!" Keith coos as he scratches behind the dog's ears. Not two seconds later is a very disgruntled Adam walking into the kitchen.
"Oh, this is where you are," He mumbles to Shiro, rubbing his eyes. "Kosmo was being a little shit and needed… A shit, I guess." He spares Keith a glance and half-hearted wave before turning back to Shiro, looking for the answers to their early —very early— meeting.
"Keith is trying to figure out what next step to take in life," He tells Adam as he passes them to unlock the back door and let Kosmo out to the yard. Adam nods, letting Shiro know he is still listening as he steps outside. Shiro turns to address Keith this time. "You thinking school? Summer vacation just started, you could try applying for the class of 2023."
He leans into his hand, squishing his cheeks as he scratches the blunt nails against the jagged scar on his face, mumbling a small, "Yeah." He pouts for a moment, his brows furrowing and nose scrunching as he thinks. "But if I want Marmora to accept me, I need to find my inspiration. I can't go while still blocked."
Marmora University was where Keith had planned on entering five years ago, but things didn't work out.
Obviously, or he wouldn't be here.
Adam comes to lean against the open backdoor, arms crossed over his chest. "What about a gap year?"
"A gap year?" Keith echos, confused. He knows what it means, but he isn't eighteen. He isn't even nineteen, he's twenty-three. How can he do a gap year when he technically has nothing to take a 'gap' from?
Shiro doesn't seem as confused as Keith, if the way he straightens in his chair and slams his hands down on the counter— his prosthetic hitting it with an uncomfortable clang— with a megawatt smile that has his eyes sparkling was any indication.
Adam comes back into the kitchen, settling himself on the chair between the brothers as Shiro seems too excited to even speak. "It's quite simple. When I say gap year, I mean a break. A vacation. Go somewhere and get that spark back." He seems to mull over his thoughts as he holds his chin. He raises an eyebrow and smirks. "What about the beach house?"
"The one in Varadero?" Keith straightens in his stool, interest piqued. He's been to the beach house a handful of times. It used to belong to Shiro and Keith's parents, and Shiro got it in the inheritance. The beach house was where his love for music really flourished.
Keith looks to the men by his side and catches the end of Adam saying something like, "What he doesn't know won't hurt him." But then Shiro is cheering way too exaggeratedly to be real, but he just goes along. For now.
"It's reasons like these you're my husband, Adam!" He sends him one of his signature loving looks and Adam chuckles at Shiro's childlike persona.
"And here I thought the reason was love." They laugh and smile lovingly at one another. Adam's the only one who can really bring out Shiro's young side. The rest of the time Shiro is a supportive brother with a really dark sense of humour.
Keith smiles at his happy brother and brother-in-law. Three years of marriage and Keith can tell they're going to stay together. They stayed strong even through the accident. Shiro had lost his arm, gotten that scar across his nose, and Adam was there for every second of the way. Adam even stayed after the incident two years ago. Keith doesn't know if Shiro would have pushed through the way he did if he didn't have Adam.
Soulmates. Keith's mind supplies.
"It's settled then!" Shiro claps his hands together, smiling brightly and seeming a lot more awake than before. "Keith, you're going to Varadero!"
Keith scoffs at how his brother didn't even discuss it with him, but it's good hearted as he returns Shiro's smile and feels like a weight has been lifted from his chest. Varadero felt like a good start.
How unaware Keith is that this trip will change his life.
Then
September - Junior Year
The squeak of trainers on the worn down linoleum floor still seems to break through Keith's earphones as he makes his way to his locker.
It's his first day of Junior year at Altea high school, and he's already behind on sleep.
When he gets to his locker, well, he doesn't, because someone else is mauling his lock. The tall boy pulls and jiggles the lock in every which way before attempting to put in the code again, just for it to not open— and the cycle goes on. Keith stands behind him and just watches with amusement as the boy fungles over and over.
That is, until the bell rings out through the halls and every student begins to shuffle to their classes. And Keith really doesn't want to be late to class on the first day, so he decides it's time to intervene and walks up behind the boy.
But the universe seems to like tormenting Keith. The brown haired boy in front of him pulls especially hard on the lock, elbow smashing right into Keith's nose, who had placed himself right in the line of fire.
It lets out a loud crack before Keith is stumbling back into the centre of the hall, earphones falling out of his ears and hanging down his leg. His combat boots squeak against the linoleum as he holds his hands over his nose.
When tears gather in his eyes, he moves to wipe them, but realises he has blood covering his palms before he does. He catches a hold of himself enough to level the taller boy with a glare.
"What. The. Fuck?" He seethes through his clenched teeth.
The boy has already turned towards Keith, mouth agape and eyes wide. Keith wouldn't be surprised if he was frozen in shock with the realisation that he just pelted someone with his elbow.
"Shit! I am so sorry!" He walks up to hold Keith's face in his hands and inspect his nose. He winces at the sight before mumbling a weak, "I think it may be broken."
"No shit," Keith deadpans.
"Listen here, you Nico Di Angelo wannabe." He leans into Keith space and pokes a finger into his chest. "It was an accident, okay?"
"Did you just call me Nico?" Keith asks, genuinely surprised that such a preppy looking boy would have a clue about good books. And how the hell did Keith look like him? He huffs a laugh at the boy in front.
The taller boy pouts and crosses his arms. "I just meant— ugh! Never mind. Come with me." The boy grabs his wrist and starts walking down the hall, not even giving Keith a chance to protest or ask where they're going.
They keep walking, passing about seven classrooms, and Keith is sure there is a small trail of drops of blood marking their path from his nose, but before he can even grimace, the boy in front of him stops, causing Keith to walk into his back before checking where they are.
The acrylic plate by the side of the door reads Nurse's Office, and Keith gags internally at the mere thought of the smell of antiseptic.
He hates the nurses office. The hospital is one of his least favourite places to go, despite being one of Keith's most visited places through his adventurous childhood that would lead to a collection of cuts and bruises… and sometimes broken bones. And the nurses office just smells more like vomit.
The brunet knocks the glass panel of the door and soon a nurse comes to open it. She takes one look at Keith and her eyes widen and she's already in the act of opening the door wider for them to walk through.
The boy sits down in the waiting room with him, and it's only then he let's go of Keith's wrist and clasps his hands before facing Keith. He seems more shy, now. Less angry at Keith's deadpan answer to his apology.
"Listen, man. I'm really sorry." He threads his fingers through his hair, pulling at the ends a little with a long sigh. "My locker wasn't working, I think they gave me the wrong code." Right. Keith's locker. The one this boy thought was his. He's about to tell him he's wrong when he speaks up again, offering his hand to shake. "The names Lance."
Keith is hesitant for a moment. He was just super rude to this guy, but he may have just broken his nose, and called him the son of Hades. But he sees Lance is trying to genuinely apologise, so he takes his hand and shakes it once before replying with a simple, "Keith." He thinks about mentioning the locker thing again, before the nurse is poking her head out of a door and speaking up.
"Could you patch up your friend's face for now?" She looks apologetic and quickly addresses whoever is in the private room before turning her attention back to them. "There's supplies in the top drawer in the room through that door." She points to another private room and Keith and Lance nod before making their way through.
Lance walks straight to the drawers and starts searching through them. He gathers a collection of things while Keith seats himself on one of the medical beds, groaning at the pain in his nose (which doesn't help the pain, at all.) It was still dripping a few drops of blood now and then, but had mainly dried up. He doesn't want to imagine the mega bruise already spread along it.
There's no doubt in his mind his parents will think he's getting into fights again. But that was middle school… and maybe twice last year.
But not anymore . He hated seeing his mom disappointed in him. His dad, he wasn't too bothered with. Him and his dad had a simple relationship where he doesn't mind too much of what Keith does, as long as he's a good person. He reacts to Keith's fights, but not like his mother does.
Krolia Kogane is scary enough that he's sure she's a badass alien in another life. But she is also where Keith gets everything from, so he guesses that would make him one, too.
But she's also his biggest supporter. She taught Keith the ukulele when he was seven, and helped him afford his collection of instruments he has now. She helped him layer his room with soundproofing so he could practice without bothering anyone. She even drove two hours so Keith and Shiro could visit their first pride parade after Keith came out two years ago.
She's his best friend. He doesn't know what he'd do without her.
So he really doesn't want to disappoint her again.
Lance comes back and spreads a collection of supplies (that Keith is sure is far too much) on the bed next to Keith before half sitting on the bed, one foot on the floor as he faces Keith.
He grabs a wipe and cleans away any dried blood around his face. Lance looks insanely guilty everytime Keith winces at the pain, or when he gets an awful nose full of antiseptic smell. But he carries on if it means he'll get his nose sorted out.
Lance readjusts Keith's face so he's facing upward, and Keith sighs before looking down to Lance. His face is turned into a pout in concentration as he tends to Keith's nose, and he can't help but take in the image of him. An expanse of golden, tanned skin, looking smooth to the touch; a collection of freckles that dust over Lance's nose and high up his cheekbones, where the longer strands of his curley, brown hair brush against. He's boyish, but he's pretty. It suits his preppy aesthetic. Keith can say that much.
Once all the blood is cleaned up, Lance grabs the ice pack and gently places it over Keith's nose. The cold makes his breath hitch, and Lance lifts the pack up immediately. He holds it over their heads as he looks at Keith, worry evident.
"It didn't hurt, it was just cold," Keith says before Lance can even ask the question. The worrying furrow if his brow softens and he slowly places the pack back on Keith's nose, and Keith takes it from there, keeping it there to lower the painful throbbing.
It's silent for a few moments after that. Both boys unable to think of conversation. Keith thinks he sees Lance go to say sorry again, so he speaks up.
"So," Keith starts, and Lance shuts his mouth. "how do I look like Nico?" He asks, and Lance's face morphs from confusion, registration and then embarrassment, pink dusting his cheeks.
"Right... Well, you have long, black hair —like a mullet," He says, gesturing to the mop of raven hair on Keith's head. Mullet? "Your jacket is also kinda how they describe it in the book, it's kinda big on you." He then points at Keith's shirt, and raising a brow, showing his confidence of his statement rise. "And then the skull t-shirt just finishes it off."
Okay, Keith could kinda understand. A little. Okay, maybe they were alike, but at least— oh shit, they're both gay, too! Well, he's not gonna let Lance add that to the list. But his shirt—
"It's MCR," Keith supplies. Lance just looks at Keith like he's supposed to know what that is, and Keith sighs, pushing the pack harder onto his nose.
Now, listen. Never do that to a potentially broken nose. It hurt. Bad.
Lance takes the pack again and holds it on Keith's nose for him. Keith pouts at being babied, but let's Lance do his thing. He seems like he knows what he's doing.
"How are you so good at this?" He bets he seems like a child, needing a stranger to hold an ice pack to his face because he can't seem to. Lance just looks to him questioningly and Keith takes it upon himself to elaborate. "With medical things. You into that stuff?"
Lance smiles fondly, and Keith decides he likes Lance's smile, white teeth a stark contrast to his darker skin.
"It's actually because of my family. I'm the youngest, but I have a lot of siblings and you just kinda learn along the way. Also, some of my cousins are pretty young, so when I babysit them, I usually look after them."
"Big family?" Keith smiles as he asks the question. It stings his nose a little, but this Lance boy looks so bright and cheery just speaking about his family, and Keith can't blame him, he loves his family, too.
Lance only smiles brighter at that. He makes a sort of explosive gesture with his free hand as he laughs, "Massive." before adding, "I love them all. You?"
Keith warms at the thought of his family. One of his favourite memories is them all crowded around the piano back in Varadero, singing and playing a range of songs to settle into the brand new holiday home. It's only when Lance chuckles that Keith realises he's probably staring off into space.
"I have my mom, dad and then my big brother, Takashi," he supplies, coming out of his stupor.
Lance perks up at Shiro's real name, and Keith doesn't even have to hear Lance's question of, "You mean the school's super-hot, old head quarterback?" to know that he's gonna answer the same way he always does when people ask about him. He's proud, but God, does Shiro have a lot of fans.
"That's the one."
The fact that Lance shamelessly called Shiro hot goes completely over Keith's head, and they continue to talk nonsense, helping Keith forget about the pain in his nose.
Once the swelling in Keith's nose has died down an acceptable amount, they decide to finally make their way to class. They literally miss the whole of the first period and beginning of the second, so when they walk into mister Wimbledon-Smythe's physics classroom ten minutes late, they have to sit together at a desk.
Keith's in the middle of writing notes about stars and the different types, when he remembers what he wanted to tell Lance.
He taps his pen against Lance's shoulder and waits until the boy looks up from his notes. He still manages to write as he's looking at Keith, humming in encouragement to speak up.
"They didn't give you the wrong code. You were trying to get into my locker," Keith says, trying to keep his grin down as Lance's eyes widen comically before Keith is adding a quick, "Give me your paper."
Lance grabs his code from his pocket and hands it to Keith. He's not even writing anymore, just staring at Keith expectantly. Keith leans into Lance's side to show him the locker number above his key code.
"See, yours is the one to the right of mine," Keith whispers, trying to make sure mister Wimbledon-Smyth doesn't reprimand them for talking.
Lance takes the piece of paper and holds it close enough to his eyes Keith is sure it's most likely blurry. He huffs out a small laugh before sighing.
"Holy cheese, you're right." He puts it back in his pocket and smiles at Keith. "Guess we're locker buddies, too, then."
Now
Santa Marta Airport is busy. But Keith recons that's because the summer break just about started, and Varadero is the holiday location. There's all sorts of people around; from the overweight man with an already red sunburn covering his skin; the mother in tow with her son and daughter, the father lagging back as he carries all the suitcases; and a group of what looks like college students on a break all gathered in a group to take a selfie. And this is it just at four in the morning.
Keith didn't take into account what time he would arrive at the airport. Just that he didn't want to wake up early just to end up with jetlag from the flight. He didn't think this through that much, Adam and Shiro were the ones who arranged most of the trip. To which Keith was thankful for, except for this. But it could easily be payback for waking Shiro up with a Code Brogane at the crack of dawn.
Oh well, he could just crash as soon as he gets to the house.
He waits at the luggage claim until his suitcase comes into view. He luggs it off the machine with little to no effort and leaves the airport, catching the first taxi he sees available.
Santa Marta Airport is located just outside of Varadero, and the beach house is right by the start, so the drive isn't too long and Keith doesn't have to pay too many pesos to the driver as he's dropped off into the driveway.
Keith had said he would crash straight away, but seeing the beach house brings back so many fond memories. He doesn't think there is a single bad memory that this house truly carries within its walls.
It's a single story beach house. Three bedrooms, an en-suite attached to each. The main room has the kitchen, dining room and living room in an open space. The outside is made up of cream rustica brick, orange roof-tiles and full length windows. Brightly coloured tiles along the staircase inside that lead to the balcony on the roof, and a number of rugs covering the wooden floor. It's all fresh in his mind, and he hasn't even stepped inside yet. It's always been a house Keith has loved. Ever since his parents bought it the summer before his twelfth birthday. It's so familiar: Keith and Shiro's names carved into one of the bricks; The personalised house plate; Some of his mom's favourite juniberry flowers.
The wind is strong at the moment, waves crashing to the shore and the beach plants dancing around, causing a muffled whistling occasionally. He quickly ties his hair back from his face to keep it out of the way. It's weird to think that the last time he was here, his hair only just reached his shoulders.
He smiles and his whole body relaxes at the feeling of home. This will always be a place that belonged to his parents. Always be a place of memories and happiness for him, his parents and Shiro. Pure nostalgia. He hopes being back here will get his brain back functioning and he can continue his plan of getting better.
He decides he's done enough reminiscing and walks to the front door. He fumbles for his keys and unlocks it, barely entering the dark main room before his hands are pulled behind him and he finds himself half-kneeling on the ground.
"What the—" He turns to see the person who holds him down and the curse dies off as his throat closes up with a hitch of his breath. The other person gasps and stares, just as shocked as him.
All the thoughts he had pushed away for years —not wanting to allow the memory of his mistake to get to him anymore than they already had— were suddenly all that occupied his mind. All he could think of in that moment was the past. Innocent and caring love. Warm touches and burning love. Regret and painful love. The thoughts had always been lying just beneath the surface, able to be ignored. But them crystal blue eyes have them rising from the depths of Keith's mind, and a wave of memories wash over him and floodgates threaten to burst open to the feeling he locked away from his heart years ago.
His blue eyes are reflected from the little amount of moonlight coming through the front door, and all Keith can think of is how he used to lose himself in them anytime their gazes locked. How they would be so full of affection and adoration. Whereas now they're wide and worried— yet no less beautiful. His heart clenches at the sight of him.
They stare, and stare, and stare—
Until the boy comes out of his stupor and is letting go of Keith like he's just burnt him. He stumbles backwards and almost hits over a potted plant in the dark.
"Lance… " Keith breathes as he stands. They continue to stare, and Keith's heart feels like it may fall out of his chest. Because, holy shit, he hasn't seen Lance in about four years. Hasn't spoken to him in five.
Lance looks just as entranced as Keith, and all they keep doing is just staring, as if the other may disappear in a puff of smoke if either moves. Lance seems to snap out of it first, straightening himself and dusting off the non-existent dust from his night clothes.
He picks at his sleeves before chuckling, and all Keith can think about is how deep it's gotten in the five years they've been separated.
"How're you doing, Keithy-boy?"
Then
September - Junior Year
"Hey, Keithy-boy," Lance says as they sit across from each other in their chem class. It's been about a week and they keep end up sitting together in their shared classes and occasionally hanging out together at dinner. His friend Hunk is always with him, and Keith has taken a liking to them both, even if Lance is insufferable.
Keith looks up from the alkali test tubes and sees Lance about to pour the test solution into one of the cylinders like a movie mad scientist would. "Would you say we have—"
"Don't—" Keith warns.
Lance does. He drops the mixture into one of the test tubes and it changes to a blue. "—chemistry?"
Keith grumbles, rolling his eyes at his antics. He asks Allura, the girl that sits next to him, about the toxicity of the chemicals. She whispers back that they'll itch, but nothing more. So, he makes sure the teacher's back is turned before taking the opportunity to grab the tube and throw the mixture at Lance.
Lance yelps, trying to jump away from it, but the blue mixture still gets him, soaking into the fabric of his white lab coat. Keith smirks as Lance's nose scrunches in annoyance at him. It just makes Keith puff out his chest the way Lance would, causing both Allura and Hunk to laugh.
"Keith, you're no longer our friend!" Lance whines, but there's a little bit of a chuckle in there. "You can go back to being 'loner emo boy.'"
Keith laughs at the childish comment before answering with, "Was I ever your friend?" and that only makes Lance gape at him incredulously. The way he does everything over the top would be endearing if he weren't so annoying.
"Hear that, Hunk? He doesn't even think of us as friends!" he crosses his arms and holds his chin high, looking down his upturned nose at Keith. Keith doesn't take him seriously and that only riles him up even more. "That's it. I'm never sharing my fries with you again. Enjoy cafeteria food."
"Don't worry, Keith. I'll share mine with you." Hunk jumps in, and Keith laughs even more, crossing his arms and smirking at Lance, who just pouts at his best friend in a sense of utter betrayal. "But I am your friend, right?" Hunk adds, and Keith melts a little at the sincerity.
"Y-Yeah, I guess. I just didn't know you saw me that way." Keith shrugs stiffly.
Even if Lance is annoying, they're both really nice people, and he hadn't let himself be optimistic enough to hope they wanted to actually be his friend. But he guesses they do. He smiles easy, and Lance mirrors the quirk in his lips.
"Of course we do, man. We shared our fries, you're officially knighted into our friend group."
"I thought you didn't want me in your friend group."
"Right," Lance realises. He hops from his chair and heads for his bag that's kept away from the science equipment. He comes back, ruler in hand and uses it as a fake sword. He holds it to Keith's nose, and Keith goes cross-eyed trying to look at it. "You have committed treason against your fellow Paladin and you are now to be put to death." he drops the ruler down on Keith's head, and he may as well play along, so he lays his head on the desk and makes over dramatised dying noises.
They all laugh before Lance let's the ruler fall and somehow causes a red mixture to spill and land on his lab coat, right next to the blue. The colours bleed together to make a purple and Lance pouts at his ruined coat.