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Lance had scars.
They were a problem.
Any time anyone saw even a glimpse of them, they would ask to see more. Oh, they're so cool. How could you hate them? They're gorgeous! And Lance would always have to make a half assed excuse as to why they couldn't see because these people just didn't understand boundaries!
In reality, they were the ugliest part of Lance. They were a symbol of Lance's dying, Lance's weakness. Lances inability to move faster, to get both him and his partner out of the way. They were a symbol of the police station using so many resources to save him that their small clinic, all about helping the small guys out there, was out of commission for a week. A symbol of everyone waiting outside of his hospital room, teary eyes and breaths hitched as they explained that they knew what happened and that they were sorry, like they had something to apologize for.
Lance hated them so much; on the particularly bad nights, Lance has held a knife against various places on his skin, trying to work up the courage to cut chunks of his scars off. Surely one big scar would be better, right? People would finally see how mutilated and ugly he truly was. (He couldn’t do it, no matter how much he tried to talk himself into it, he couldn’t move the knife.)
But there was one flaw in Lance's complete self hatred. Keith Kogane; wonderful boyfriend, model photographer, and complete dork.
If Lance was so ugly, why would Keith still be here? If Lance was so horrific, why would Keith stick around after Lance had shown Keith every part of himself? Keith is smart and he knows what he wants, so why does he want Lance? If Lance was as terrible as he thought, why would nights like this happen? Nights where Keith had him laid in the most gorgeous of position, with his most expensive camera set up to photograph him. Why would Keith put in that much effort, to someone that would be pointless if Lance was as terrible as he thought.
Really, if Lance was as bad as he thought, why would Keith have hundreds of pictures of Lance, lined around their apartment, looking so nice that Lance barely recognized it was him?
"To the left, baby," Keith murmured, his voice soothing over the gentle music playing in the background, helping set the mood with the lighting. Lance shifted obediently and Keith hummed approvingly, "that's good. Good boy."
A bit of water built up at the corner of his eye, but he was turned away from Keith just enough that he didn't see so. His whole body was turned away from Keith, really, just a red velvet sheet draped over his body like he was a work of art, the lighting low to help the pictures turn out just the way Keith wanted them to. They had done these kinds of pictures before, ones that were lewd without really showing anything of Lance. But never had he been so bare for Keith, for so long, and never had it been captured on camera.
"Gorgeous baby," Keith said lightly, and the soft click of his camera echoed. The song changed and Lance breathed out deeply, trying to seem as fluid as he could within the picture. After a few more clicks (Keith was, and always would be, a perfectionist when it came to his photos), he finally spoke. "Can we do another one? Do you need a break?"
And God if Keith didn't make Lance feel so seen, so heard. He felt loved, but not for something that he wasn't. He felt as if Keith understood him and took him for what he was, not what he could be, or what he used to be.
Keith thought he was beautiful. It was undeniable that that is what Keith thought, and yet it shocked him down to the core every time he rediscovered it.
Lance's shoulders shook with the intensity of his silent cries, but Keith noticed. He always noticed, especially when they were taking pictures.
"Lance?" he asked, and his tone was so different than before, so willing to do anything that Lance needed to make it better. Lance curled in on himself, the lewd picture that painted him as one with the sheet no more. Now, he was just a man, crying in the arms of his partner. Keith spoke again once Lance was secure in his arms. "Does it hurt? Is it cramping?"
Too much too much too much.
"Color?"
Color?
Lance felt like he was drowning.
They're gorgeous!
How could you hate them?
God they're so pretty.
They're gorg-
-so pretty-
-hate them-
"Y-yellow," Lance spat without thinking about it.
Keith wasn't satisfied with his answer. "Don't lie to me, baby," Keith murmured, moving the sheet and reaching for the blanket he kept on the bedside table so Lance could wrap up afterward. He didn't want his baby getting cold. "Are you red? It's ok if you are, there's nothing wrong with expressing your boundaries with me."
Lance shook his head hard, because he knew he wasn't red. He knew he was ok. Lance was just confused, and emotionally overwhelmed. He didn't want Keith to think he'd pushed Lance's boundaries that far! "Y-yellow!" he insisted through cries. "Just— overwhelmed," he fought out. "You make me feel—" Lance couldn't finish his sentence, unsure of what he was even trying to say.
What did Keith make him feel? How could he even begin to describe that?
Keith seemed upset that he didn't finish his sentence, and that made sense because Keith needed to know what went wrong with the scene, as to not do it again. But Keith did not push it, even though Lance knew it would come up later, and started helping Lance toward the bathroom.
"Alright Lance," Keith said, helping him to the ground by the shower, turning it on. "We're gonna take a quick shower, help compose ourselves a bit," a nice way of saying that it was Keith's way to calm Lance's down, "and then we can talk about it, ok?"
Lance nodded, hiccuping a bit. It didn't sound like the worst plan in the world.
...
Lance wasn't sure how they ended up sitting face to face with each other on their bedroom floor, mere feet away from their bathroom entrance, but it worked for them. And, admittedly, Lance was feeling much better after the shower and ready to talk. Keith seemed to know him, in and out, more than Lance have him credit for.
"Can you talk to me about what happened, Lance?" Keith asked, and Lance honestly hated it when Keith called him by his real name. There were so many cuter, better, sweeter alternatives; baby, sweetheart, my love, El, Leo (after his full name), McClain, beloved, soulmate, future husband. Lance loved the last one, in particular.
Lance started off from where he left the conversation, trying not to add any more suspense to the conversation than there already was. Keith was just so visibly anxious and Lance felt bad!
"You make me feel so..." Lance trailed off again, just like the last time he tried to answer the question, but for a different reason. He had too many words to put to the feeling now. How could be pick just one to describe Keith?
Keith was on the entirely wrong page. "Bad?" he guessed, his eyebrows scrunched almost cutely if not for the situation.
"No, no!" Lance was quick to assure, grabbing Keith's hands. He decided saying whatever he had to say was better than making Keith think he did something bad to Lance. "You make me feel... so loved, cherished. You make me feel understood and looked at and listened to. That's all I ever wanted Keith, ever since that damned lightning strike and the stupid days after, I just wanted people to look at me the same and they never did. But you didn't care and... sometimes it just overwhelms me because I forget that you're so special. I will never let you go, Keith Kogane."
And still, Lance felt like there was more than he could say when it came to how he felt about Keith.
"Oh baby," Keith whispered, hand cupping Lance's cheek. "I love you so much, you know that?" Keith asked, touching their foreheads together in the most intimate way. Lance smiled, nuzzling forward.
"Of course."
Keith gave a soft smile as well, all sappy and happy, none of earlier's mood involved. "I want to propose to you so bad right now," he confessed, leaning forward to peck his lips. "But the ring isn't done for another few weeks."
Lance's jaw dropped, ripping away from Keith. "You custom ordered me a ring?! Keith, you could have literally proposed to me with a gummy worm you crafted into a ring and I would have been beyond delighted! What the hell!"
Keith leaned forward again, capturing Lance in his arms. This was anything but sweet, like earlier, if his smirk was anything to go by. "I could've," he admitted, because he knew Lance so well, "but I wanna take some pretty pictures with it on you. They'll turn out so good."
Lance's face burst into flames, trying to wriggle out of the cage Keith had him in in embarrassment.
Keith chuckled, unrelenting. "Color?"
And, as much as Lance huffed and puffed about it, he really was ok now. Lance loved Keith so much, for knowing exactly what he needed to get him back to an ok mindset. "Green," he said quietly, not fully wanting to admit it. "How do you want me?"
"Lemme show you baby," Keith said, already moving back toward the bed, grabbing the red sheet. "I know exactly how to position you to show the world what a model you really are."