Something must have been wrong with me.

I didn't understand how I was thinking - perhaps a bolt inside my head had gone loose after Keith had slammed me against the ground, but either way, I was being more irrational than natural.

"No hide and seek today either?" Allura asked softly, poking her head into my room. Her dark hands gripped the door frame gently.

"Still feeling under the weather", I lied, trying to make my voice come out as rapsy and husky as possible, to give out the impression that I was, in fact, not feeling well.
Which was not a lie, either. But just not the kind of "not feeling well" that Allura must have thought. I wasn't feeling well emotionally, and hadn't done it in two quintants now. As soon as I returned from the cave and met Allura in the middle she had immediately noticed the disquietude on my face, and I was ashamed of my own cowardice. I hid my wounded arm behind my back as Allura asked me what was wrong, and my teeth rattled whenever I spoke. From there on I began telling the lie of how I was getting a flu. I spent a varga in the infarmary then, thanks to my dearest sister announcing the false news to our parents.

Since then, the remorse had chewed on my logic senses, making me almost cry at the dining table, and I blamed the sniffs and sobs on the illness whenever someone asked me if I was okay. I was just very empatic; Keith's pain was my pain, and the thought of my departure when he seemed to need company more than ever would forever haunt me until I did something to indemnify him, no matter how much I knew that his stubbornness would get in the way.

Did he have the right to be stubborn with me? Probably. And I had every right to deplore what I had done. So that's what I did all quintant.

۝ ۝ ۝

"You've already missed two lessons, Lance, it's time for you to get your bum out of that bed." Allura added a little timid smirk afterwards, probably feeling very courageous when using a word she saw as something inappropriate.

I flew up in a sitting position, almost making my pillow fall down to the floor. "What?! Absolutely not!"

My voice was high pitched and seemingly fine, and I immediately notice the little quirk of Allura's eyebrow, so I quickly added a very false and overdramatic cough after my sentence, making it sound rather uncertain. Her eyebrow rose higher.

"Ehm... I... How can I get a lesson on formal speech when my voice is barely to use?" I coughed again, the dryness in my throat making me grimace after, which hopefully added to the "under the weather" act.

"Your voice sounded pretty usable just now", she pointed out cautiously, putting her hand on her hip.

"The power of shock, that's all", I muttered, sinking deeper down into my bed, hoping that my blanket could shield me away from the feasibility of leaving my bedroom.

"Lance", she sighed, running a hand over her face, wanting to radiate annoyance. "You can't keep on avoiding your duties. You know that these lessons are preconditional. If you keep on circumventing them, you'll end up with even longer lessons."

As if I don't know that. "Avoiding? I am certainly NOT avoiding! What, I can't help being sick! Do you want me to barf on the preceptor, or something? Because I will do that. If you drag me out of this bed, to say." I pointed at the mattress under me.

"You won't barf, Lance." Allura rolled her eyes.

"Oh my Voltron, I think I'm going to barf!" I made loud vomit sounds, putting my hand over my throat dramatically. "Allura! I'm going to.... *cough*... Oh my, I'm going to vomit!" I fake choked, and slapped a hand over my forehead as if I was running a fever. "I'm barfing, Allura, I'm really barfing!"

Allura made a disgusted face. "You're so full of yourself." She slowly started to back out of my room.

"OH MY AlTEA, THERE IS SO MUCH VOMIT!"

The doors to my bedroom hissed closed.

۝ ۝ ۝

By the third quintant, I was beginning to believe that my brain had started to decay.

I was slacking off with my skin routine, and my skin felt itchy and parched. I saw no point in doing anything, and the comfort om my bed didn't exactly help with that dilemma.

This couldn't be normal. To ponder over someone as much as I did with him... It just didn't make any sense.
Or perhaps it did, but I didn't want to wrap my head around that thought. Every second, I wondered how he was feeling, if he was getting better, if he cursed me for my retreat, or if he - which was highly possible - cursed himself for his behaviour. I couldn't get his pleas out of my head, the broken I'm sorry that cracked in the middle and faded into a frail wail.

It was official, my brain had started to rot from the deliberation.

۝ ۝ ۝

"Weren't you sick just yesterday?" Allura indicated, but her heart wasn't really into the accusation, probably too contented with me finally stepping out of my dismal burrow. I pulled on her arm, dragging her behind me, out into the garden.

"I recover quite fast", I said, which was half true.

When we reached the tree, I turned around and pointed at her, opening my mouth.

"I'm the searcher, I know", she sighed before I could speak, waving her hand to dismiss me.

My mouth slammed shut, my mouth twitching nervously. Well then, to return to him wouldn't be as hard as I first thought.

Much to my guesses I had at some point on my way here, the cave was completely dark when I entered it, which made it extremely hard for me to look out for the stalagmite that could easily put me into a coma if I collided with any of them. I listened very carefully for any sign of life around me, but I should have by now known that if it was something Keith was good at, it was to act dead, so unnaturally quiet that it scared me. He could be standing behind me just now and I wouldn't even notice a thing.

It wasn't only the darkness that made it exceedingly hard to localize Keith, but also my increasing worry that seemed to conceal all my senses from reach. I ruminated about every possible reaction I could receive if he would see me now, and most of them looked pretty bad in my head, which made me chew on my lip so hard that tiny, dried skin fell into my mouth, and I spat them out immediately, gagging afterwards.

Suddenly someone gripped my arm, and I was ready to scream, which I ultimately did, but I quickly fell dead silent again when I saw who it was. Which should have scared a normal person, especially after what had happened, but I knew that I was far from normal, so I just rolled with it.

Keith gripped my wrist intently, applying just the slightest of pressure to it but still managing to maintain some sort of tenderness to his touch. Which confused me, obviously.

He brought my arm up to his face, pushing up the sleeve of tunic to bare the almost faded marks of his claws he dug in his sudden surge the other quintant. It had been easy to lie where those imprints had come from when I returned home, but not so easy to convince my parents that I didn't need to be but into the healing pod, that it was just scratches from the prickly branches that would soon heal, but I noticed dad's face when he took a closer look at my underarm. His face stayed tranquil, like it always did, but I saw the tincture behind his eyes, how the wrinkles in his forehead was just a tad too deep.
I knew he suspected something. Zarkon had been a dear friend to him, after all. He knew more about Galras than I ever could.

And seeing Keith now, inspecting a not so bad injury, didn't seem so pleasing. The light of my attire didn't do such a good job in lighting up the wound, but he seemed to see it clearly nevertheless, because he kept on muttering something to himself, his grip turning firmer and firmer by every tick passing by.
I could make out just a few things that came out of his mouth:

"...hurt...fault... I shouldn't... angry with..."

"Hey there", I said, trying to make my voice sound placid, careful not to let my true emotions slipp through. "You seem to be feeling better today."

Keith's laugh was bitter, so drained from happiness that it made me shiver. He didn't look at me. "Feeling better? What a fabrication..."

"I'm fine, Keith..."

"No you're not", he growled and I shut my mouth closed. "Don't take me for a fool, Lance. I smell the uncertainty on you. Uncertainty for me, and if I will attack you again. There is nothing fine with that, Lance. You shouldn't have returned."

His words disoriented me more than angered. "Smell? You... Should I be concerned that you can smell my emotions?"

Keith's eyes bore into mine, hollow and set hard. His lips were a straight, solemn line. "Once again, worried for the wrong reasons."

I quickly retaliated. "There is no right or wrong reasons here! I get to be concerned with whatever I like!" I withdrew my arm from his grasp, kneading the place after his hand. "And besides... I want to make it very clear that my concern is for a completely different reason than the one you have painted up in your head."

I hated that we stood in obscurity, and that I couldn't see his face evidently, so I had to base of my guesses on his emotion by hearing his voice. "And what other reason could that be?"

I didn't hesitate to say: "You reaction, obviously..."

It didn't take much to see that Keith's gaze turned somber. "Hmpf. That's the exact same reason."

"I mean," I hurried to say, bothered by his disregard. "You reaction towards my presence. I was concerned if you would be happy to see me or not. You know, since I ran off like I did when you were the most vulnerable. Friends don't do that. I'm sorry I abandoned you..."

Keith's growl-like laugh silenced me once again, and his eyes were so incredibly yellow it made me squint.

"Friends? You... You consider me as your friend, after what I did?" He looked at me like I was speaking pseudointellectual flimflam, and I could never really acclimate to the resentment in his glare, always turning sharper and sharper for everything I said.

"Stop that", I grumbled, pointing up his face sloppily. "Stop... That. Right now."

Before Keith could ask me what I meant, I put my hand on his arm, and he stilled.

"Put up the fire, please?"

He opened his mouth again, only to breathe out - a light whiff of air hit my face, warm and solid, in a way -, but then he closed it again, his face congealing. He looked at me one last time before slinking past me and it filled me with relief when I heard the sound of the matches behind me. I closed me eyes with a quiet sigh, before turning around, seeing him clearly now.

Keith's arm was still bandaged up, but he didn't look as ghoulish or horrendous as before, which was a prosperity. Today he just looked overly enervated, and in desperate need of sleep, but I knew that he wouldn't let himself rest, especially when he was beating himself up for what had happened. I couldn't blame him, though, his stubbornness was nothing different from mine.

"How is your arm?" I asked quietly, once again afraid that if I spoke too loudly, something around us would burst.

His eyes narrowed at me. "How's yours?"

I met his gaze with equal provocation. "Keith..."

"You didn't show up for three quintants", he interrupted, looking away, down at the fire with a same kind of flame in his eyes, if not stronger. If he had looked at me any longer, I would for sure had melted by the heat of his gaze. "I was beginning to think that you started to hate me, which you should. But it still... I couldn't help but to feel egotistical. I knew that your absence was good, that you finally came to your senses and realized that I am danger, and that you shouldn't be here. I was even believing that you would send your father on me. I knew I should have been happy about you finally getting away but..." He paused.

I waited for him to continue, but he didn't. At least for what felt like a whole dobosh.

"Hm", he finally snorted. "Look at that, I'm trying to explain myself to you. How amusing." His jaw stiffened and he moved his fingers a little. "You don't deserve my lame excuses. I don't deserve explaining my... I don't... I don't get to act like I know the tricks of words and how to use them." He clenched his wounded hand, looking down at it with wonder, his lips forming inaudible words again, words I wished I could hear.

I grew angry, fumbling after something to say, and it took a while, but after some tics, I settled for just a short and harsh. "Me neither."

Keith quirked a thick eyebrow.

"I don't deserve to explain myself either", I clarified. "I'm sorry I ran off. I'm sorry I worried you. I'm sorry that I left you when you were in a state like that. I'm sorry that I did the complete opposite of what friends do."

His fist was to tightly clamped that it looked like his skin would burst from the contraction.

"I don't deserve your apology", he snarled.

I pinned him with a penetrating look, muttering again: "Me neither."

Keith glared at me, but thankfully didn't say anything more about this topic.

I seized the opportunity and quickly tried to change the subject, stepping forward. "Hey, I've got some complaints about life. Care to listen? We could have a sob-party, if you have anything to talk about too."

I saw how he wanted to contradict, how his mouth twitched as if he was about to bring up the previous problem again, but he didn't. Maybe my gaze was just that cogent.

۝ ۝ ۝

"Sounds tough", Keith said after all my whining about the upcoming ball, and if you broke through all the layers of abstinence and confines, I could hear the candor in his voice. He had kept a fair distance between us this whole time, but his body was just slightly angled towards mine, letting me know that I had his attention.

"It's a shame that you can't come", I groused, prodding my chin on my palm, my elbow planted on my knee, gazing openly at the fire, surprised that my eyes didn't sting from the light. "You'd at least make it bearable."

I didn't need to look to know that he was perforating me with a look. "You know I wouldn't show up even if I was allowed to."

That caused me to whip my head to the side, letting my hand that supported my head fall down to my lap. "What? Why?"

Keith rolled his eyes. "What could there possible be for me there? If I showed up we would both just die out of boredom."

I crossed my arms defensively, puffing out my chest. "Hey! You don't know that! Maybe we would have the best time! And don't paint up a picture of the ball in your head based on my complaints."

He rolled his eyes again. "What else should I think of it? You're not really doing a good job at advertising it."

"Yeah well..." Before I could hit him with a comeback, a new idea plopped up in my head, and I instantaneously perked up. "Hey, I just came up with something! Can't you just transform into a human and slink in to the ball? Nobody will suspect a thing if you're human!"

Keith didn't look enthralled by my suggestion, instead he just reminded me flatly: "It hurts."

I made a wry face, mentally hitting my head against a concrete wall enough to make my skull crack. "Oh... Right..."

He didn't say anything, so it prompted me to fill the silence.

"I mean... Is it really that... um, painful? Like utterly, dreadfully painful? There is really no chance of you changing form?" I bit my lip afterwards, afraid that I had riled him on.

He held my eyes without blinking, his face staying the same. "Lance, this is a very serious case of mutation we're talking about. It doesn't come off as easy as you think. My Galran from, and my human form, are two separate things. It requires a lot of alteration and transfiguration. My cells... how do I say this in a proper way... they need to change, which can be quite arduous, yes."

My lips were sealed, my mouth depleted of any words to use.

"And I as mentioned before", he continued in a calm voice, probably contented that he managed to substantiate his arguments in a way that was plausible enough to change my mind. "My Galran side is the dominant of the two. Don't you think I would have stayed human if I could? It's simply just tiring staying human for more than a quintant. It sucks away my energy like a vacuum cleaner."

I raised my eyebrow, tilting my head to the side, confused. "What's a vacuum cleaner?"

Keith looked as stunned as the time when I asked him what matches were, and he straightened his back, locking his eyes with mine. "It's... You don't know what a vacuum cleaner is?"

I shook my head silently, waiting for him to explain.

He still looked dazed as he started his description. "It's a... um, machine that sucks up dirt from the floor into a rounded box that you can empty out later, and connected to the box is a long... tube with a powerhead that sucks up all the dirt..."

"Oh, you mean a skin sucker!" I exclaimed when realization hit me. "I've seen those before. They advertised that for It's Earth, the Earth store I was talking about before."

Now Keith was the one looking confused. "Skin... sucker?"

"Yeah! For the foot scraper. If I understand it correctly, you use the foot scraper to rub off dead skin, and then you suck up the pickings with the skin sucker! Truly an amazing innovation."

"Wh..." His mouth flopped open and shut like a fish on shore, his eyes wide. "What... No, that's not what it's for... And it's certainly not called a skin sucker... It's a vacuum cleaner, used for dirt, not skin."

"Oh..." My shoulders dropped, and I got disenchanted. "That doesn't sound as exciting."

"It's what it's for", Keith argued.

"Doesn't make it exciting", I rebutted.

He huffed, but didn't look overly annoyed. He crossed his legs and rested his elbows in his knees, leaning forward, examining his arm. His composure was rigid, per usual, and it seemed like he could never recline or relax, always heedful, observant even if the place he was in was clear from any danger.

I reached out, reaching for his arm, wanting to make him unwind under my touch,

His movement was swift, so fast I couldn't fully register it, but suddenly my wrist was held firmly in his hand again, and I squeaked.

He brought my injured wrist up to his face, closer than before, and it was like taken out of an imagination I never really considered having, when he brought it to his lips, letting them just slightly brush the fabric that covered my skin, preventing me to feel the touch of his light kiss, and suddenly I wanted nothing more than to just rip off my sleeves. He didn't look at me, even as he dropped my hand, and it drooped down between us.

"Eighteen doboshes", he reminded in a subdued voice.

I blinked, bewildered, annoyed at time, annoyed at the situation.

If just, I thought. Time could stretch a little bit further.

۝ ۝ ۝

Wink wonk ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡° )