DAY 9 24/03-18

My dad was always the one to pick fights. Whether it was just me accidently ignoring something he said or serious stuff like wasting his money without him knowing. He could ignore me for weeks, if he wanted to.

"One time, I ignored your aunt for a year", he told me over the dining table. With a little chuckle, he added: "Heck, I can't even remember what we fought over. Only that she gave up in talking to me at some point. I can be hell of a stubborn man, and I see were you got your stubbornness from. I see myself in you, Keith."

I, of course, was too little to understand the weight of his words. I ended up learning the hard way. He could ignore me for how long he ever wanted, and because I was so similar to him, I didn't say anything to him too. At first. But it came to a point where he just needed to tell me something in order to get the information straight to me, and that's when he would tell me why I upset him. As if he didn't upset me. I would also have wanted to tell him why he upset me, but I kept quiet, nodding while he kept stating all the reasons to me. Then he would pull me into a half hearted hug, and I would still be quiet.

I walked all the time, with the fear that anytime, when I least expected it, I would end up just like my aunt that I never even knew. Ignored for any amount of time, sometimes when I didn't even know why.

° ° °

I don't why I moved into the living room, but here I am, zapping between meaningless channels on our low quality tv, my feet resting on the coffee table even if Shiro always tells me not to. I have zapped so many times between our little amount of channels that I don't doubt it went like a loop several of times.

I hear Shiro enter, but I don't look up, instead I start zapping faster, and it surprises me that suddenly the remote in my hand is taken away from me, put softly on the coffee table. I look up just as I'm being engulfed in a hug. Strong but soft arms pull me closer, rubbing comforting circles on my back, and I melt too fast, my hands resting in my lap, my face pressed against a shoulder.

I sigh, mostly because of relieve, but also because I can. I got oxygen enough to do that. I am alive, after all.

"Keith", he says against my hair, and I close my eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry you feel that way. You shouldn't. You need to know that adopting you was the best decision in my life. That is something I will never regret. Never. Ever."

"I'm sorry", I press out through chapped lips, my arms desperately wanting to hug him back, but I just stay like this instead. I don't need to tell him what I'm sorry for, because he already knows. Shiro knows me better than I let myself believe.

"Hey..." He pulls back, one of his hands still resting on my hand, but the other one is holding something. A cd case. I smile weakly when I see what movie it is. "I figured you'd want to see it after you had to put up with Hitch for a whole evening."

"I didn't think you could be such a romantic guy. That movie is cheesy as hell", I say, my smile broadening in the slightest. He returns the smile.

"Admit it, you love the movie."

"Believe what you want, but I love Batman more", I say, snatching it way from his hand to turn the movie on.

° ° °

As the movie comes to its end, me and Shiro has totally given up on being productive a regular Saturday. He's scrolling through his phones as I'm leaning against him, my head resting on his shoulder as I'm tiredly eyeing the roll credits. We have closed the curtains, so any signs of sunshine can't reach us. I could stay like this the whole weekend if I wanted to.

"Whatcha doin'?" I ask, zero interest in what he's actually doing, but I ask anyway.

"Snapchat", he answers.

"Hm." Shiro claims that he only has snapchat because all his other friends does, and they kept on complaining about him being behind in society, so one day he decided to open up an account. His name isn't the most interesting. Just Takashi Shirogane. He says that it's best to keep it neutral so there's no risk for him to regret his choice of name in the future.

"Since when did Allura and Lance become friends?" Shiro says thoughtfully, and I stop breathing for a second. Just mentioning his name does things to my heart that shouldn't be allowed. My hands immediately starts sweating and I discreetly wipe them off on my thighs.

"What do you mean?" I hope I'm just imagining the slight quiver in my voice.

"They're hanging out", Shiro says, still thoughtful. "Having a smoothie or something."

You will not look at that picture, I command myself internally. So I look anyways, peering over Shiro's shoulder and at his little phone. He turns it toward my direction so I can see clearly.

And there they are, Allura's arm hanging around Lance's shoulder as he's smiling brightly, his sunglasses resting on top of his head. His eyes are taunting, and it's like they're whispering screw you Mullet right up my face. I can almost hear his voice in my ear, and while it seems like he's looking right into my soul, it also seems like his eyes are distant, somewhere far away. It misses its natural glow, its brightness overall, and this whole picture just seems completely off.

And they are indeed holding smoothies, the same taste too. It wouldn't surprise me if Lance just planned to pick whatever Allura picks from the start, even if he may hate the flavor.

With the one and only sharpshooter, is what Allura wrote on the picture. She even had the guts to add a blue and a pick heart to emphasize her words.

Sharpshooter. Is that what he calls himself? If anything I would say that he only told Allura that as a bad pick up line or something. Implying more like let me sharpshoot you tonight, but Allura's mind was simply too innocent to get the true meaning behind his words.

"How fun for them", I mutter, my voice maybe the most bitter in the whole world right now, and I quickly lift my head off of Shiro's shoulder, diverting my eyes away from the screen, gluing them onto the tv instead, changing to regular channels, going back to zapping my anger away.

I flinch when I feel Shiro's hand on my shoulder. I don't even know why. He's wanting for me to look at me, but when I'm not, he says my name soflty. I force myself to look up at him against my own will.

"What happened between you two yesterday? You never told me what you talked about when I left. Is everything okay between you two?"

Well, you weren't exactly available in talking yesterday, I think to myself but bite my tongue to keep myself from saying my snarl remark out loud. Truth is a didn't want to talk to anyone yesterday. The anger I was feeling diverted my focus, and my right senses. The lens I was looking through was blurred and cracked. Anything could have ignited my anger. I never meant to treat Lance that way. I was too angry to be grateful that he actually took his time to check up on me. Again. I regret treating him like that. But then he dropped those words at me, and it was hard to feel regretful at that moment. Those words really stung, and they still do, if not even more. Because every little word that came out of his mouth held truths, truths about me, about my behaviour and all that above. It stung to hear it for myself, from someone else that doesn't even know me but just assumed.

And I hate him for that. I really do. Even if he just said all possible things just to hurt me like I must have hurt him. He was willing to say anything to hit the right spot in my feelings. I shouldn't hate him. On the contrary, I should just not feel anything when it comes to him. I should show him insensibility. That I really don't five a fuck about him and what he's doing.

Yet I sit here, all upset because of a damn snapchat photo of him.

"Keith?"

I snap out of my thoughts and blink, shifting a little to find a better position, but then I just sit altogether, running a hand through my hair, exhaling.

"Just...Can you see where Allura is located on the map?" I ask, pushing away the big side that tells me NO.

"You want me to..."

"See where Allura is located, yes", I finish hastily for him so I don't have time rethink my choice.

Without a word, Shiro opens up the map in snapchat and shows me where Allura's little Bitmoji stands. Exactly where I thought she'd be. Where they'd be.

"What are you going to do?" Shiro seems surprised over my strange behaviour.

I stand up, throwing the remote aside, stretching my arms until they crack in the slightest.

I look down at Shiro's surprised face. "Something I've never done before."

° ° °

The whole car ride consists of Shiro asking me questions. Questions I don't necessarily answer. Or I just find a way to dodge them in the best way. All I tell him that I need to fix things, before they turn into something worse. I have never been the one to apologise, so this is something completely new to me. I makes me nervous, too. Because I don't know the outcome of this action. I don't know what to expect, or what I should get in return. Is it too easy if I get forgiven right away? Will I be humiliated or just down right ignored? Is Lance like my dad? Waiting for me to apologise? Maybe, hopefully, this will clear up whatever there is between us, and I definitely don't deserve it, but maybe this will open up a new chance for me to make things right. Even if I already got a chance like that.

"Will you be okay?" Shiro asks me right before I'm about to jump out of the car. His hand is resting on my thigh. "I have no idea what you're going to do. It concerns me. Tell me it isn't something dangerous."

"No, Shiro, it's not dangerous", I soothingly say, forcing out a smile to somewhat calm him down, but I think it looks more terror-stricken than reposeful. Which must stress him more. "I'm just going to talk. Try to clear things up. I need to do it. If not just to prove that I can for myself."

In his eyes, I can see a flicker of understandment, because once again, he knows me better than I chose to know. He knows what I'm talking about, or at least what I'm implying on. He knows this is hard for me because this is out of the ordinary for me. So he flashes me one last smile, wishing me a good luck, and I head out of the car, closing the door softly behind me.

I'm instantly met with the unbearable warmth, almost immediately soaking my t-shirt with sweat. I'm met with that, and also fear. Fear for how this will turn out. I hurriedly make my way to the café. It's just like that in Arizona. The only time you really go out is to find a place with a good air conditioner and stay there for a while until it's time to find a new place. One time, it got so warm that I saw a family - just for fun - frying eggs on the ground outside their lawn. The sun cooked them pretty quickly, and while they found that funny, I just found it very disturbing, that I lived under such a heat, without managing to melt, for that part.

You know, my heart may be like one of those eggs; laying and frying on the ground, being cooked under the rays of this whole moment. Maybe that's why my whole chest is burning right now, frying and milling, sputtering emotions all around my body.

I'm standing in front of the destination right now, the glass of the door blurred, so I can't see what's happening inside. I hesitantly grip the door handle, pushing it down slowly and opening a dangerous path for me. The entrance gives away a little ding big enough to give away my presence. I don't want to do this. What the fuck am I doing here? What kind of nonsense corrupted my mind? Maybe it's just best to hate Lance for the rest of my life - or as long as my life may rest - and never talk to him again. Maybe it's just best if he hates me too.

But then I think of Hunk, and Pidge. They won't stop hanging out with Lance just because of my dumb actions. Lance is a part of our group now, if I'm correct. If him and I were to continue this fight and ignorance, I wouldn't be able to be near him any second without getting my fist up against his face. Would that mean that I would have to stay away from the trio? Maybe I would walk in the hallways all alone, being an easier target for the bullies. How miserable would my schools days be then?

Okay, I think to myself, this will bring me two good things. I will prove something for myself, and also not risk getting bullied every single day. Good. That's good. Nothing will go wrong here, nothing should go wrong here. Just walk in, tell him you're sorry, and get the happy reunion over with. It doesn't get easier than that.

The first thing that happens when I step inside is that it does go wrong. Horribly wrong. I didn't think about this. So here I stand, completely unprepared and bared for the truth. The air conditioner makes up for it, though, it is strong enough to cool down my burning face. But not my chest. It's still burning like hell. Sputtering emotions here and there until they're laying everywhere and I can't pick up the right one.

I recognize the back of his head immediately, and he's saying something that makes Allura laugh. A real laugh, for that part. They're sitting at the very far end of the café, laughing and talking and shit. I get a glimpse of the table they're leaning over, and I see they're holding hands. All sorts of thoughts flood my mind. Allura is much older than Lance. Shouldn't she be working? What am I doing here again?

I'm just about to turn around and leave before I have time to get more humiliated, but it's already too late. Allura has caught my standing figure with her eyes, and they lock into mine, before she frowns like she's really confused as to why I'm here. What surprised me the most is that her face doesn't change when she realizes it's me. It just stays confused, not turning into the familiar softness she holds in her gaze. She doesn't seem happy to see me.

Instead she just looks straight at me, saying something to Lance, and the next second I can see his head whip towards my direction, adjusting his eyes on me. There is quite a long space between us, so when the color of his eyes change between emotions, I can't determine which emotion he's feeling. It frustrates me, because it's usually so easy to do it, but now we're simply too far away from each other to know what the other is feeling. Literally and metaphorically. The fight we had separated us as friends. Or, the way we started to become friends. I managed to snip the development in half. Just like that.

But then it's obvious; He isn't happy that I'm here. At all. His eyes says it all. They tell me to fuck off and never encounter him again. They tell me that he doesn't want me here, just like I told him yesterday. That I can go home now, that he didn't ask me to drive here and apologize to him. They tell me that he hates me.

I almost miss it, but I see a movement. It's not Lance. It's Allura, waving me over. Now she just looks serious, urging me to come over to their table. And I now it's not to hang out with them and be besties with them. Lance notices that movement, and he looks over at Allura, and he must be as surprised as I'm feelings right now, staring at her in dismay. They have released their hold on their hands, and Lance is gesturing dramatically, but I can't hear what he's saying. I can only assume that he's telling Allura she's crazy and that he doesn't want me here, and I can imagine she's saying something like he needs to apologize in return, because Lance did tell her, right? He did tell her what of a dick I am and that's why she gives me this look.

Don't turn around now. I've already come this far, even if it didn't start out good. Don't chicken out now. Two things should come out of this, and if it means making a complete fool out of myself, then so, let it be.

My first steps feel wobbly and slowed down, like something is pulling me back and I'm struggling to move forward. I want to move forward, but it's hard. very hard. Especially when one side me tells me to go back. It's like I'm fighting those two sides right now. Resulting in this; Moving forward while I'm being pulled backwards. It takes an eternity but also just seconds to get over to their table, and there I stand, two meters away from them as I'm fiddling with my hands openly because I gave up in hiding them a long time ago. I tug at my gloves, curl my toes and press them hardly against the base of my shoes, because that's a way for me to keep my face neutralized. Instead of letting the embarrassment paint my face red, I let it slip down to my toes. If it helps now? Probably not. I probably look like I just ate a whole lemon and chugged a bottle of chili sauce right after.

And Lance isn't looking at me. That's what's making this even worse. He's looking down at the table like it's way more interesting than I am. The scratches on the surface is probably way more fascinating than I will ever be.

"I believe you have something to say", Allura says suddenly. Hearing her talk makes me almost jump, but I stay put, and slowly lay my eyes on her face. Her eye's are telling me everything but at the same time nothing at all. She holds all the words there is to say, but at the same time her face is completely blank. It makes me bewildered.

I risk a glance at Lance. He's still not looking at me. I want to tell him everything but nothing at the same time. I want him to understand. He should just understand. I shouldn't say anything. But I need to. Because he isn't talented enough to know my intensions. I thought he was, but he isn't. He made me believe that he was willing to know my intensions. But he isn't willing to do it either, just like everybody else. That's why people doesn't want to spend time with me. They're too lazy to understand me, and I make it harder for them by instantly pushing them away.

Lance doesn't know what I think now, he doesn't know why I reacted the way I did, not just yesterday, but from the day we first met. For a second he really did make me think that he was willingly trying to read the pages I have hidden. And I'm not talking about the pages in my notebook, but the pages written on my face. Somewhere. They're there. I carry a notebook in my mind too, not just in my pocket. It's just that nobody has took their time to find it yet. But it's there.

"He doesn't have to say shit." It's the first time Lance speaks in this awkward silence. His words comes out like a sort of growl, mixed with an undertone. He doesn't lift up his face but he lifts up his voice instead, as to make me hear him clearly. "He can go."

Now he looks up at me, awfully slowly. If a look could kill, Lance would be a slaughterer. "I didn't ask for you to come here. You can go home."

So those words I said to him must have really hurt him, and that's why he's using them against me. My mouth are too dry to say anything to that. Or maybe I just don't have anything to say to that. What could I say? It wouldn't be wise to just drop my apology like a bomb and then retreat, hoping that I made the war come to it's end. Maybe that bomb would trigger a whole attack?

So I say nothing at all. Lance is looking at me like he really expects me to say something, anything, to clarify his hatred towards me. So I stay silent, not knowing what to do now. Him and Allura are just staring at me.

"What? Aren't you going to say anything?" Lance seems annoyed. "Come on, drop some more of you're bullshit so we can get this over with. But just so you know, I don't care about anything you say."

"Lance, let Keith say what he came to say", Allura says but I know better than to think that she's giving me a chance. Lance has probably made her turn against me, in this short amount of time. Whatever he must have said must have painted an awful picture of me in her head, and whatever picture she set of me before is tumbling down. Even if we've known each other by far longer time than she and Lance has, she chose to stick with Lance's way of describing me. It makes me angry. Very angry. Fuming angry.

So I snap. "What? You hate me too? Did whatever shit Lance say about me get to your head? Am I you're enemy now because I'm Lance's? Do you really believe in bullshit?" Allura is taken aback by the things I say, but Lance is quick to come to her rescue.

"Shut the hell up, Keith. I don't think anybody could like you now. It was only a matter of time before Allura realized what a dick you are."

"You don't fucking know me!" I shout suddenly and those few people here must have turned their attention to me now. But I don't care. I need to say my thoughts aloud. I need Lance to understand, no matter what way I use to get my information through. He needs to understand. I'm done being misunderstood. I fucking hate being misunderstood because that's one of the biggest wounds in my life. It hurts. Everyday. It's a wound that never gets patched up. It just keeps bleeding and bleeding but never being taken care of. It hurts like hell. I need to patch it up, I need to let someone know that I'm wounded.

"And I don't plan on knowing you", Lance retorts, turning his body towards mine, staring at me as if to show me he can play unbothered too. I know he can't. He's too lively to do so. He's too expression filled. If I look closely I can see the stars dotted on the bridge of his nose again, forming constellations I have never seen before. I want to know all of them. Because I am willing to understand. I am willing to study the stars on his face. But he isn't willing to read my pages.

"No, you don't know me", I say again, my voice like a hiss. "You don't know my intensions." Because he doesn't. I need him to know that he hurt me too. He made me believe, he made a five year old that believed in fairy tales. It was only now that I found out the truth. That Santa doesn't exist. It was all just a made up story. But I really liked that story. I like the idea of a old man riding a sleigh driven by deer's in the night sky while handing out presents to children in only one night around the whole world. It was something I believed in.

Lance snapped that believe in half with his bare hands.

"What intensions?" Lance scoffs but judging his eyes, I can see that my words did get to him. In some kind of way. They're making him hesitate. "Being a complete asshole? I can say just now that your intensions isn't good."

"How the fuck would you know that?" I say, my voice rising again. Attracting more attention. "You're not planning to know me, is what you said, so how would you know what my intensions are?"

"It's pretty easy to figure it out. Judging just by the whole of you." His arguments are useless, but that's good. It's because I accomplished something in this whole soup opera. It didn't go to waste. He's rethinking now. But it clarified something for me; He isn't worth my time. I did get something out of all of this after all. It wasn't the things I first wanted, but it was something I didn't know I needed. A clarification.

"Then that makes you like everyone else", I say, calmer because I finally understand now. This opened up my eyes. "You judge. You don't take your time in understanding people." I think back to the day we first met. "You're not willing to listen to the both sides of the story. You're not willing to listen to me." I'm ready to leave, because I have said everything I wanted to say. Things I didn't want to say at first but said anyways. It seems to have a big affect on Lance. He doesn't have that murder stare anymore. He just seems utterly shocked, his lips slightly parted like he was about to say something but just gave up. His chest isn't moving, and I realize he's holding his breath. Just like me. I didn't realize I wasn't breathing, but seconds pass as we're both losing oxygen.

"You said you would make my twenty days the best." I try for a breath. Maybe two. Or perhaps three. "You lied, Lance."

° ° °

"What, so you're just going to ignore what I had to say", dad told me as he appeared in the doorway of my room, his voice stern. I looked up at him from playing with my simple little spaceship toy.

"I didn't hear you, dad", I said because it was true.

"Okay. You always "don't hear me". Keep using that lame excuse. I can ignore you too."

"I didn't hear you, I'm telling the truth, dad!" I protested, frustrated that he didn't believe me. He nodded once and turned around, leaving my room to start our fight. I was too angry to say anything else to him. Because my temper was always evident. Since I was little. You know, I can't really remember many good times with dad. Almost every memory I remember of him is simply depressing. I don't want to have that picture of him in my mind. I want to see him differently, but it's hard when he didn't offer many good memories to me. Maybe that's just what he did to himself. He painted a picture of himself in my head, even if that isn't necessarily how he wants me to see him. I remember what I got to experience the most. Simple as that.

° ° °

*wheeze*