I let out a shaky breath, overwhelmed by Lance and all that he is. His precense is too strong for me to handle, and I shudder under his touch. He threw away his shirt at some point, and it makes me as flustered as the first time. His one hand is resting on my chest, and the other one is brushing my eyelashes. I blink against his fingers, and he smiles when the short hairs must tickle his skin.

"Why are your eyelashes so god damn long? You don't need them", he whines, but I see how amused he is. I stare as he bites his lips.

We woke up about an hour ago - or, if the time tracker in my mind is correct - and my heart has tripped over it's own feet at least a million times since then. I let Lance discover all my face features, touch them all in all kinds of ways that makes me crazy. I'm very much aware of how I skipped to both write the second part of my letter yesterday, and how I skipped to begin the new one today. I guess I just didn't have any words to write down. All my thoughts must have flew out of the apartment as soon as they got released from the beach ball. Everything in my head is replaced with only one thought: Lance.

"What?" Lance asks, smirking down at me when I just stare at him. He pushes my hair to the side so it doesn't cover my face.

I don't tell him how happy it makes me that I managed to witness two different sides of him; the Morning Lance and the Comforting Lance. I don't tell him how incredibly amusing I find it to see his tousled hair, his hooded eyes, the birthmark on the side of his throat and the thin hair standing up on his forearms when I let my hands touch his shoulders. How his closeness gives me a new kind of courage, making me want to do things I normally wouldn't do. I don't tell him how he makes me accept the thought of us, as scary as it may seem. That us being young just makes the exploring more interesting.

I don't tell him any of that because he should know it already.

"You're blushing", I say instead, which makes his face redder. I say it even if I'm blushing too.

"It's warm", he argues. "Your room is a damn sauna."

"Hm."

Lance's legs are entangled in mine, and I don't dare to move. I just lay like this, my arms now laying awkwardly at my sides, and I'm very aware of what this closeness may bring. God, he can't kiss me now. I don't know how bad my breath is and I'm certainly not ready for his lips to be on mine.

"Now you go drifting away without me again", Lance sighs, knocking on my head lightly. I blink. "All alone in your mind space." He strokes my cheek, his other hand gripping the fabric over my heart. "Share with me?"

I press my lips together, but freeze when I see that Lance is staring at them, the corner of his mouth wrenching slightly upwards.

"Tell me more about your family", I say instead, desperately trying to steer the attention off me. Lance seems surprised by the request, but not throughout irritated by my attempt to veer away the spotlight.

"Really?" he says like he has a hard time believing I really want to listen. "You want to hear me rant about my family? Because once I start talking, there is no end."

"I want to listen", I say but I'm not really sure how much information I can take in without getting a headache. You know, I have a limit for how long I can listen to someone. It doesn't matter who it is. My listening comprehension is quite feeble and bad, and using it with Lance should be a challenge.

"Okay..." Lance starts doubtfully. "Well, let's start off with the fact that you really shouldn't travel anywhere with my family. Not that we travel to other countries than Cuba often, but when we do, it's throughout hell."

"Why?" I ask, already entertained by the things he has to tell.

"We got kicked out of restaurants at least five times, totally. After that, we just buy food in the supermarkets and eat in the hotel room. I'm talking sandwiches, vegetables, nuts, cakes and all that stuff. Papá always steals a knife from the hotel at breakfast to cut the vegetables. We've never been caught."

I snort at the image Lance painted up in my head, surprised once again how he manages to make the laughing fall so easily. I sit up slowly, and Lance backs away a little to give me place. I feel his legs in between mine and I try to suppress the upcoming blush.

"Oh, and let's not forget about the fact that mamá always has a whole fridge in her purse. Want some cookies? She got it. Want a whole ass turkey? No problem. Getting thirsty? She brings you two bottles of water. It's very convenient, you know. Since everyone gets hungry every five minutes."

"How does she carry all of it?" I laugh, thinking how I just get tired when I have one textbook in my backpack.

"Mother strength. She puts us before her, no matter how she's feeling. I think she could carry an elephant if she ever got stuck in a situation like that."

I scoff, but inside me I'm aching. Lacking of something. Or maybe several things I lacked of for a long time now.

"My family is chaos, to put it short. It's never really quiet in our house. Even in the night, you can hear flushing toilets and someone sneaking into the kitchen to steal some chocolate from the cabinet, or Veronica sneaking in late from a party and you know mamá stayed up and whipped out the chancla when Veronica starts shrieking."

"Chancla", I smile, loving the way Lance is saying the Spanish word with such ease. I see him grin, probably because of my pronunciation, and my face goes through a heat wave. "How do you guys survive getting hit with it? It's hella terrifying."

Lance shrugs. "You get used to it. Soon enough you can predict how she throws it, and dodge. But she always comes up with a new choreography, so you're never really safe."

My smile broadens, until it's starting to hurt in my cheeks again. I smile for various reason. The main one being Lance. And how he lifts several layers of melancholy and gloom from the air around me with just his eloquent persona. How he makes me something I'm normally not, but I'm not even faking it. It's not necessarily bad. It's just wholly new.

"Hey", Lance's hands are on my face again. "Don't zone off on me again. Stay with me."

"I'm here", I mumble, looking away in shame. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Your body is here, but your mind isn't. You always disappear like that. So suddenly. You're always distant." He taps his fingers softly against my temples.

I can agree with that. I always turned myself inwards. I never had someone to talk to in the orphanage; everyone was too busy being angry with their life's to even think reasonably. So I created this own little field in my head - or, mind space, as Lance puts it - and it has been my little sanctuary since then. A toxic sanctuary that often brings my mood down. Maybe it's more like a prison I created for myself.

"Tell me what you're thinking", Lance pleads, his eyes begging and his fingers softly gripping my hair. "It makes me crazy not knowing."

My lips feels cold when I speak. "I'm thinking about you."

Not a lie. The thought of him somehow always finds a way to get stuck in my head, no matter how much I deny it.

His eyes twinkles. "What about me? Of how hot I am?"

Yes. "No", I scoff. "Just... You. And how strange all of this turned out."

"Strange? You don't like it?"

I sigh, frustrated that he just can't understand without me having to tell him. I just want him to understand. "I do like it... It's just that... You know... I... Fuck, Lance, I hate explaining myself..."

"Try", he simply says, waiting. I don't know what to do with my hands so I keep them on my mattress, soaking my blanket with sweat.

"It's just... Fuck, I'm scared, okay? And hella confused, and I don't fucking know what this is because this is new to me and all that shit. I want to know what I'm feeling but I don't. I hate that I don't have control over anything. It's driving me insane and I don't know if it should or not and I don't know anything. I hate not knowing, Lance. It makes me crazy not knowing shit..."

"Hey hey! It's okay, Keith, calm down..." His fingers snakes behind my head, massaging the sensitive little spot where my neck just begins. I shiver. "It's totally fine, Keith. It's normal to be scared. Don't be ashamed of it."

I refuse to look into his eyes, but still I do. His gaze is thousands different stains of blue. Newborn colors that was always there but never noticeable. They glow and shimmer and grant me words to speak.

"How the hell are you so collected and calm about this?" My smile crawls out even when I don't want it to.

Lance breaks down into a big laughter. That kind of laugh that's uncertain but open and sincere at the same time.

"I have no fucking clue."

I fall into his laughter, reluctant but at the same time not. We dedicate some minutes to just laugh at the risible things the world has to offer.

° ° °

"What does your parents even think of you sleeping over at my place twice now?" I ask, arms crossed as I watch Lance search through our drawers. "Aren't they... I don't know... worried, or something?"

"Nah", Lance says with a cavalier shake of his hand, not even looking back at me. "They trust me. Besides, mamá texts me at least fifteen times to make sure I didn't get killed." He let's out a cheerfully aha! when he finds what he was searching for.

"Do you even know how to make lemonade?" I ask, sitting down in one of the chairs, watching as Lance's reaching for one of our cups in the upper drawer. He's still shirtless, claiming he always is when it's this hot. I watch as the muscles in his back is working and eventually it gets too much for me so I look away. "Put on a freaking shirt", I mutter lowly.

"Nah", he says again, this time sounding impish. "It's too warm. And why does it bother you so much, anyways?" He knows goddamn well why it does. That little annoying prick.

"Just make the lemonade", I grouch, resting my head on my arms that's laying on the table. I look out the window to prevent my eyes from traveling to inappropriate places. The heat is as bad as every other day, and news reporters have ordered people to preferably stay indoors. Shiro went to work today, though, leaving me and Lance all alone in the apartment. My mind is all over the place right now, thoughts spilling in big amounts. Lance is doing everything he can to make me forget about the sorrow. I'm really grateful, and I mean it. I just find it very hard to show it.

"You tired?" He asks, the sound of a spoon stirring filling every little empty hatch in the air.

"Mm", I lie, still not looking up. I wouldn't be able to sleep even if I stayed up for a decade. I hardly even slept this night; I will admit, Lance's precense did make it slightly better, but still not good enough. It was just too noisy in my head. Nothing anyone could disperse.

"You could take a nap if you want", Lance proposes. "And I could watch a movie or something while you rest..."

"Of course not", I dismiss, always having this big clump in my throat, making me want to keep my words to a minimum. "Maybe the lemonade will wake me up." If the sourness won't pinch me awake I don't know what will. Something about lemonade and sour candies are so entirely different.

"You sure? I really wouldn't mind you taking a nap."

I hum again, following the dust whirling around with my eyes. Not everything looks good under sunlight. The brightness of it can emphasize details you normally wouldn't see. Details that isn't necessarily good.

"Okay", he mumbles, and the stirring continues. I sigh, not knowing what to do with this situation. Just like I don't know anything anymore. The only thing I seem to know is how utterly misled I am nowadays, thinking I now what I'm feeling but the world always finds a way to prove me wrong.

It takes one minute more until Lance speaks again.

"Hey..." I look up, just as Lance walks towards the table, placing two long cups of lemonade on the table, sitting in front of me, lips curled into a smile. Fuck, he really needs to put on a t-shirt. "The lemonade is done."

I sit up properly, dragging the cup closer to me, looking down into the content. I poke the lemon with my long spoon, my stomach telling me no, but still I bring the cup to my lips, hesitant to taste. It smells weird, but I try not to show any disgust on my face. Lemonade has never been a thing I choose to drink, and one that Lance makes? I just hope it's drinkable.

"It's a fast lemonade, but I bet it's still the best one you have ever tasted." He takes a big sip of his drink, his face staying the same, and he licks his lips afterwards. My heart is asking all sorts of questions. "Go on, try it."

Like chugging a little cup of medicine, I take a quick sip, my mouth immediately wanting to push it out, but maybe it would hurt Lance's feelings. Oh dear lord, this is the worst lemonade I have ever tried. Lance sees my face and he grins.

"I added vinegar to yours", he preens.

I spit it all out, happy I managed to get it over Lance's arms and a little on his face. He jerks backwards so suddenly his chair almost trips back. I make a gagging sound as I fly up, sprinting to the sink, turning the water to full force, washing away any trace of Lance's horrible lemonade from my tongue. He chortles behind me, hitting the table in between his laughter.

I turn around, ready to scream at him, but then I see his face. His laugh is uncontrollable, so it goes a little all over the place, switching from howls to wheezes. If anything, it's an ugly laugh, but his face isn't. He has his teeth bared into a big and open smile, and his face breaks into wrinkles. Wrinkles that characterize him even more. I don't even realize I'm staring when he suddenly opens his eyes, and I whirl around, leaning over the sink, my breath rapid.

"You have disgusting leftovers between your teeth", I mutter, trying to shake the image of him out of my head so I can at least save the little sanity I have left.

"And you have disgusting vinegar on your tongue", Lance laughs.

"Fuck you." I spit into the sink one last time before washing it away, returning to the table, not looking at what I know is Lance smirking so I won't get my blood boiling.

"I thought, since you're already a sour bitch, a regular lemonade wouldn't do for you. So I added some vinegar to really wake you up", he explains with a shit-eating grin. I huff and push my lemonade far away from me.

"I will get back at you", I say.

"You said that before, too." He shrugs. "Nothing really happened."

That clicks my mind into realization. The picture I took of him when eating a sour candy. I just forgot to fulfill my threat.

"Actually, I am getting back at you." I reach for my phone that's laying beside me on the table, turning it on to my plain black background, lock screen and home screen. I go to my gallery, to my very few pictures, and choose the ugliest one of Lance. I glance up at him and I see that he's looking at me cautiously, sitting in a rigid posture that makes it look like he's debating if he should stop me from whatever I'm doing or just sit still.

I quickly change the backgrounds, and show him the result, keeping my phone a fair distant from him so he won't be able to snatch it away from me. I see the fast change on his face when he sees the picture, and I react quickly when his hand comes flying towards my phone. I jump up, darting out of the kitchen with a chuckle. I hear the sound of Lance's chair dragging across the floor, and soon enough I hear the sound of his loud footsteps coming behind me. My neighbors will definitely complain.

We run through the apartment; not like there's much space to run in, but it works. We're running around furnitures and tables, and I'm pushing my limits. Lance seems to notice that too.

"Keith..." I turn around, seeing he's closer than I thought, and he pushes me against the wall behind me, just beside my room. We're separated by just a dangerous thin strap of air again, breathing heavily, the smell of lemon hitting my face. "Stop... running. No...good...for you..."

He has me caged between him and the wall, hands pressed beside both sides of my head, face mere inches from mine. I could have pressed my lips onto his if I had the audacity to. My heart throbs in my throat, and I can't swallow it back to place. My hands are on either side of my waist, pressed against the wall like that would keep me upright. I grip for any kind of rope to bring me up, but still I feel like I'm falling but at the same time standing completely still. This moment makes me completely bared. Before, I was a book without a cover and no title and my words were written in a language nobody could understand, and it was best that way. With Lance, he just cracks that code, seeing through me even if I make myself believe I don't want to. He is that reader that is determent to learn everything he doesn't know.

This whole moment is a painful miracle.

"Can I kiss you?" he whispers, softly and so quietly. He breathes so harshly it sounds like he already kissed me, and his eyes travels to my lips, staring at them like it's his duty to capture them with his. Never has it been this hard to breathe.

"I...I have disgusting... vinegar taste in my mouth...", I stutter, scared of the nearness and the puissence in my chest, swelling with every breath I take.

"I don't care", he gasps, looking at me like he really doesn't. Looking at me like he wants to wind me in with his eyes, and roses swells open in his face, painting his cheeks red. "Keith, just..." He ends up not continuing the sentence, and suddenly I can't distinguish any distance between us because he closed that distance and all I know is that his lips are on mine, and he's taking away the oxygen I never had.

This whole moment is a slap in the face, but it doesn't hurt. My eyes are wide open, seeing everything and nothing. I'm seeing everything blindly. I don't know what I imagined kissing someone would feel like, but it could never have been this; like I could flick the whole world into awakeness myself. Like I took touches for granted. My fingers tingles, and I don't know how to move. His lips are moving against mine, like he knows what he's doing. He takes my fear and turns it into something completely else, flipping everything the other way around. He kisses me gravely and thoroughly, like time tipped over the edge into nothingness. His tastes fills my mouth like golden water and it's filthy but drinkable and I want more. I just don't know how to get it. I'm too shocked to move.

Lance cups the side of my face with his one hand, and the other one is gripping the hollow of my back and is pulling me towards him, hard, chest pressed together until I don't know which heartbeat is mine. I flounder in the deepness of the water around me, lifting my hands instinctively to grip anything, something that must be Lance's upper arms and he breathes out sharply through his nose, kissing me harder. I feel something pointy and incredibly warm pressing against my lips, and I take a guess and open my mouth just slightly, my moves based on every cheesy kissing scene I have been reading in books even if I didn't want to. They do come in handy now, though, but I'm still too inexperienced to use any method.

But then I feel it; his tongue. In my mouth. Tasting and unraveling me. I feel him even more, a warm taste, the taste of lemon sipping it, something I can't indetify but all I know is that I'm slowly starting to love it. His tongue swirls into mine, our teeth clashing and the kiss is starting to get sloppy and messy but that's just because we realized the hunger for each other and we can't eat in small amounts.
Lance went from careful to rapid in mere seconds and I thought it would scare me but it doesn't. I thought I would freak out but I can't help to just move without thinking, seeing where this new courage takes me.

I move my hands to grip his neck and my touch makes him grunt, tongue teasingly licking my palate and my legs quivers. I would have fallen a thousand times if he wasn't holding me upright. I feel Lance all around me, coming like a bulk, too much to taste just slowly, so I have to devour him. I try to move my lips against his and it feels strange and clumsy but I don't mind it. Lance seems overly excited over my counteraction because I feel him smile and suddenly his hands are exploring my face, fingertips tracing fire on my skin. I have caught fire and there is no water to extinguish me anymore.

I don't know when one of his hands traveled further down but then I feel something pulling my t-shirt slightly up and fingers caressing my bare stomach. I gasp, pulling back, trying to collect all drops of oxygen but Lance just takes them right away by pressing our lips together again, harder this time. He's panting, breathing harshly into my mouth, getting the fire on him too, kiss becoming jagged and clumsy, and my hands are gripping his hair for support, maybe too hard, but I can't do anything about it. My hands are running freely on the field that is his body and exploring every little strand of grass on his head, every hill on his chest, the roses that swelled up in his face. Lance bites my lips and he says "Fuck, Keith..." and he pulls me away from the wall and we're stumbling into my room while desperately trying to continue kissing and the aspiration I never knew I had lays in my hands and I hold it tightly.

He takes me to the bed and softly lays me down into the soft blankets and his body hovers over mine and he kisses me again, deeply, tongue still tasting, my stomach still flipping. His lips travels down, all the way to my neck and his tongue leaves a cool trace over my skin and I only see the top of his head when he continues down, kissing just the beginning of my chest and I grip his shoulders while an earthquake is shaking my body into million pieces.

Lance grips the hem of my t-shirt again and he mumbles "Up, up", against my skin and I realize too late what he's doing and I shiver when he pulls the cloth all the way up to my throat and just like a flick of a switch everything dies. Every rose in my body loses their pedals and I feel myself go paler. I let myself look at his face and his mouth is open like he wanted to say something but all his words just got cut off in the middle. His lips are swollen, darker, and he still has that blush on his cheeks, his chest rising and sinking fast. I feel a whimper rise in my throat and I want nothing else than to drag my t-shirt down again and escape.

I'm just about to do so when I feel his fingertips, softly touching the long scar that is running over my chest, staring at the pale and bumpy line with wonder in his eyes. I look down at his face and my chest moving so quickly and don't even have time to collect my feelings when his face sinks down, and he presses his lips onto the forever lasting wound that has gone numb over time and stars explodes behind my eyelids and I fumble in the darkness. He kisses every inch of the scar, kisses nothing like the one we shared just a minute ago. These kisses are filled with reflexion and they're open and soft. His shoulders are warm under my hands and the roses spread themselves all the way there.

He moves up and up and he patches everything up with his lips and soon he's kissing me again but he keeps his hand on my chest and my heartbeats increases and he pulls back for a second to just look at me and never have the water in his eyes been this deep.

"You're all good things in one", he whispers.

And I think: maybe I could get all the life I might lose just in his presence.

° ° °

We kissed for a very long time. Not long enough for Shiro to get back, but long enough for the sun to set at the very top of the sky. I spilled my oxygen a million times but still I have too much of it inside my head. I'm always dizzy, every movement hammering my head into a state of pain. So instead I just lay, Lance behind me and he pushed the hair away from my neck to kiss the nape of it, tongue teasingly licking, and then he blows on the wet traces which sends shivers through my body. I have to turn to my back so I won't go completely crazy.

"I've been thinking about something", I say, trying to seems unaffected by the way he's touching my bare chest, but I know I'm fooling nobody. I should have put my t-shirt back on.

"And I've come to a conclusion", he preens. "You taste as good as you smell."

Instantly, my tongue darts out to lick my lips, as if to feel if his really were on mine. I still feel the pressure of them.

"I thought about how you want to know more about me", I say and I sense Lance's interest. "You know... always talking about listening to me and wanting to know what I'm thinking of..." I dare to peek at his face and his eyes shimmers with interestedness. "I'm willing to share some of my thoughts with you. Not all of them, but some. And at times when I feel ready."

"You're willing to give me a perception of your mind?" he says with anticipation.

"Only if you give me one, too", I mumble, ashamed of this whole moment and irritated that I can't escape it.

"A perception of my mind?"

"Yeah." I figure I need to get something in change out of all of this. I don't want everything to be about me. I want to know what's on Lance's mind too. "It could be like a phrase we use when we want to tell each other what's on our mind, or something. Like "sneak a peek", or some shit like that."

He smiles like he finds my innovation amusing. "Well, Keith... Sneak a peek."

"Yeah?" I wait for him to continue, and freeze when he puts his fingers on my lips, staring at them.

"I love these... On mine. Very much."

I attempt to bite his fingers and he takes them back laughingly.

"Sneak a peek", I say, and he hums, waiting. "I'm less scared now. I'm starting to accept the thought of us. Slowly. I have a crush on you too, Lance. I'm starting to come in terms with that."

"Good", he mumbles. "Cuz I'm not done kissing you just yet."

° ° °

DAY 15 30/05-18

I came to think of something. It's not one of those shower thoughts, or something. More like a realization.
I realized that the anger in my chest will always be there. It is something that I stored up throughout almost my whole life. It won't disappear, or maybe it would take as long as it took to get it in the first place.

No one can just make it vanish. Not even Lance. But what he can do is make me forget it's there, if only for a second. Make be believe it's something completely else.

Maybe he is my escape from reality.

° ° °

╰( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° )つ──☆*:・ﾟ