It was August, at last, in sunny South Dakota, and that meant only one thing for Lance McClain— back to school. Unlike his elementary school days, however, he was excited for it.

He was excited to see his friends again. He'd managed to make a few good ones, the kind that could last after graduation, and was going to be rooming with his favorite of the bunch this year. He couldn't wait to see the new simulators that had been installed on campus, and he was eager to visit the fraternity he was desperate to pledge to. He knew he'd be a buzzing ball of energy for the entire duration of the two-hour trip to campus. And he couldn't help himself.

"Somebody's up bright and early," his sister Veronica's voice called out as she descended the stairs. She was already dressed and ready for work, her immaculate Galaxy Garrison uniform as pressed and neat as it always was. He envied that uniform. He wanted one of his own (without the skirt, of course). "I'll bet you couldn't sleep."

"Nope. Not a wink," he confirmed with a cheeky grin as he finished slathering his last slice of toast with strawberry jam. Veronica's nose wrinkled at the sight of the stack. "What can I say? I miss everybody."

Veronica laughed as she sat down at the kitchen table.

"I'm just glad you've finally started befriending people that mom approves of."

Lance chuckled knowingly at that. As a kid, Lance had kept the company of children with energy levels to rival his, and the destruction that ensued had been as infuriating for his parents as it was inevitable.

Veronica didn't force Lance to make small talk as he scarfed down his breakfast. She had enough to worry about without those formalities. She'd agreed to wake at an obscenely early hour to drive Lance to school, and she planned to drop their brother Luis off for a job interview along the way. The morning's schedule was packed. Was Lance packed? Had he forgotten to grab anything? He ran through a mental checklist as he rushed to retrieve the pot of coffee.

Luis appeared before long. He'd managed to make himself look presentable, but he clearly wasn't used to being up so early. His children followed closely behind him, practically on his heels, and his wife Lisa more or less chased after them.

"What are you two doing up so early? You don't have to worry about school for a while!" Lance called out to the two little ones. They beamed up at him, at his side in what seemed like a split second. Lisa followed and patted their heads.

"They wanted to see you off," she explained. She was smiling, but the lines under her eyes suggested that she was less than ecstatic about their insistence and that they'd dragged her out of bed with them. Sylvio and Nadia had no intentions of apologizing.

Lance answered their million-and-one questions as he finished off his coffee and toast. They had already asked most of them, of course, but he didn't mention that. His college life was something much more grand and exciting in their heads than it really was, if only because it was "grown-up" stuff.

"Will you get to fly a rocket ship?"

"Not yet! Just the simulators for now."

"When do you get to wear the robes and the funny hat?"

"In a couple of years. Once I get my diploma."

"Do you think you'll get to meet aliens?!"

"I sure hope so!"

"Lance," Lisa warned at that last bit. "Don't encourage them."

"Right, right." Lance rolled his eyes. "Remember, guys— aliens don't exist. ...As far as we know."

"LANCE."

Lisa could protest if she wanted, but her fate was sealed. She'd spend the entire drive to school later that morning being pressed about UFOs and aliens and there was no way out of it now.

For once, Lance had managed to schedule things properly and didn't have to run to the car. He took his time bidding his niece and nephew fond farewells, picking each one up to spin around, before he left with his backpack and duffel bag and guitar case in tow. Luis and Veronica left the house after he did, but they rushed ahead and beat him to the car. Meaning he would be forced to ride in the backseat until Luis was dropped off. He swallowed his complaints, even though it meant his long legs would be aching in an hour or so.

"So!" Luis reached across the back of his seat to ruffle his younger brother's hair as the car began to move. "Sophomore year, huh? You ready to tackle it?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm actually looking forward to it! I might regret that once the assignments start rolling in, but we'll have to wait and see."

"Hey, I always though college was a blast. Sure, assignments pile up and exam season is hell, but it sure beats high school."

Lance's expression soured at the mention of high school. He'd never admit it— not to anyone— but it hadn't always been the friendliest of places for him. He didn't know what he'd done to make some of the other students target him, but he'd never gotten to be the mega-popular athlete he'd envisioned himself becoming.

Sure, he'd had plenty of friends, and he'd had girlfriends, and he'd gone to parties. All of the usual stuff he'd expected. But there had always been someone bigger and better, and people were always comparing him to his older siblings or calling him a mama's boy. He'd never gotten to be the star. He didn't HAVE to be the star, but dammit, he had sure wanted to be.

Luis and Veronica asked Lance questions about his friends at school and his favorite and least favorite professors, and he and his sister asked Luis questions about his job interview. He and his little family were relatively new to the states, and so he hadn't quite gotten settled in yet, but with his credentials he was sure to do just fine.

The rest of Lance's family still lived on the island. In Cuba. Along Varadero beach, with sparkling crystal-clear waters and a pizza shack that made the best garlic knots in the world. For just a moment, his stomach ached at the thought of home and his mother's warm hugs, but then he reminded himself that he wanted to be an All-American space rockstar and shook that silly sentimentalism out of his head.

Veronica talked about home a lot and regularly teased Lance about his All-American act. He always retorted back that she was just jealous he'd gotten rid of his accent so convincingly and that his English was so fluent. At which she always rolled her eyes. It made him feel a bit self-conscious every time she did it— he had worked really hard to perfect his English and he didn't feel like he got enough credit for that, even when he had to translate for the others. Even Veronica forgot expressions from time to time.

Luis, meanwhile, couldn't care less about how he sounded. His accent was so thick that he was almost impossible to understand sometimes. And while he gave his best effort to be understood, he didn't care if people made fun of the way he sounded. "They're just jealous they can only speak one language," he always said.

"Oh, before I forget— you still interested in the alien girl?"

Lance perked up at Luis' question. Now THERE was something he wanted to talk about.

"You bet! And this time she's bringing a cute friend with her. Met her at orientation. Seemed like a nice girl, even if she's kind of... weird."

Veronica raised an eyebrow at Lance in the rearview mirror.

"Alien girl? That's the first I'm hearing of this!"

Luis slapped her shoulder and laughed.

"Hey, now. We didn't leave you out on purpose! It's just a topic of conversation between men, you know? Between brothers." He used the mirror to wink at Lance. Lisa had made an honest man out of him, but Lance had learned his methods somewhere. "And she's not literally an alien. She's just a foreigner. From some country that may or may not exist."

"It DOES exist! It's just new. Technically. Wasn't formally recognized until a couple of decades ago, I think," Lance explained, trying to remember the way that it had been explained to him.

Allura Oriande was, without a doubt, the most beautiful girl on campus. And she definitely wasn't American. People tended to assume she was British, maybe because of her accent, but she was from some weird, tiny country hidden somewhere in Europe that sounded awfully made-up. Maybe she was making it up. Maybe she was with the CIA or something.

"Alright, then. What's this country called?" Veronica asked sternly. Lance opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

"It's called, uh... it's... hang on, I know it! I just need a minute!"

"Hah! For a girl you like so much, you apparently don't listen to her when she talks, do you?"

Both of Lance's older siblings laughed at his expense. He crossed his arms and pouted dramatically. Getting ragged on seemed to be a guaranteed part of having older siblings, and it wasn't like he hadn't paid them back in pranks over the years. But the subject of Allura WAS another sore spot— she just didn't seem to notice him all that much. He'd been dropping hints left and right and she'd been dodging them, totally oblivious to his infatuation with her. And that had never happened to Lance before.

This year would be different, he was sure. He'd win her over if it was the last thing he ever did.

Another twenty minutes or so, and Luis' stop arrived. He adjusted his tie and made sure his hair was combed down before he jumped out of his seat.

"Wish me luck, everybody!" He called out as he waved. Veronica and Lance both obeyed him, and Lance truly did hope he got the job. His niece and nephew deserved lots of presents. Lisa, too. His brother wasn't exactly struggling, not yet, and Veronica made enough money to keep him and his family afloat, but the economy was cruel to everyone every once in a while.

The car doors slid closed. Veronica waited only a moment, until she was sure that her older brother was out of earshot, before she inhaled a breath. Lance knew that sound, and he'd been awaiting the inevitable lecture.

"Listen, Lance." She started all of her big-sister-talks like that and Lance didn't know if she realized that or not. "I understand what it's like to feel like you aren't like everybody else, but you don't have to pretend to be something you're not just to impress people. You'll fit in somewhere."

"Would've been easier if mom had let me play football," Lance grumbled as the car rolled out of the lot and back onto the highway. "...Soccer. I mean soccer. You know." He was changing the subject, if just a little bit. He didn't want to be preached at right now. He knew what he was doing. What harm was there in putting on a little show, anyway?

"You know how mom is about studying. Just be glad she's letting you join a fraternity." Veronica glanced over at her brother as she pulled the car to a stop at a red light. She smiled faintly. "Besides, you're smarter than you give yourself credit for. You'll finish all your schoolwork in no time. And then you can spend that extra time making friends and going to parties!" She sighed, letting her shoulders slump dramatically. "I envy you, really. I didn't get to party when I was still in school. I totally missed out on that side of campus life."

Lance snorted.

"Yeah, right. I totally believe you."

Veronica sighed.

"Come on, Lance. Who would have invited me to parties? I was studying, like, all the time, and I had student government and the mathletes to worry about too."

"That's... fair."

Lance went quiet for the rest of the ride (and not just because the subject of math, his least favorite, had come up). He didn't want to risk saying something and blurting it out— blurting it ALL out.

He didn't want to say aloud that he hated how jealous he was of Veronica because everyone was so proud of her and talked about her all the time. It wasn't fair to her, and he didn't hate her, and she had worked hard for what she had, but still, he was jealous. Lance also didn't want to admit that he often hated being the youngest, being the baby of the family, and not being taken seriously. Not being allowed to do what he wanted and to be himself. They were always encouraging him to "be himself", sure, but did they know what that meant? Did they really? He became less and less sure of that with every passing year.

But maybe that was only because Lance didn't really know anymore. Lance didn't know who he was, and so he'd decided to carve out a name for himself. If he couldn't feel comfortable in his own skin, at least he could be remembered as a ladies' man and the life of the party, right? Wasn't that what men were supposed to want?

For now, at least, that would have to be good enough. And he would do everything he could to avoid thinking these thoughts again.

— ◦ ✦ ◦ —

Lance's arrival on campus didn't come fast enough. By the time Veronica pulled up to the building, he was practically hopping in his seat. He was lucky he didn't have to worry about furniture. The dorms were mostly furnished as it was, and his roommate had promised to take care of everything else. He did have some posters, though, not to mention his own bedding.

To his surprise, Lance spotted said roommate, standing with a bunch of other people who looked like they were related to him and waiting for him in the parking lot. He waved as soon as he saw Lance. Lance jumped out of the car before Veronica could even fully apply the brakes.

"Hunk! Buddy!"

He ran into his best friend at full force and was swept up in a crushing hug. Normally he might be more embarrassed by that kind of thing, but it was Hunk, so he couldn't really help himself. He genuinely adored the guy. Most people did. Lance heard Veronica laughing as she approached the group.

"I take it you're Hunk? I've heard a lot of good things about you," she said, extending a hand. Hunk took it eagerly.

"And you must be Veronica!"

"Are you his mom?" Lance asked the woman right behind Hunk. She was wearing a similar bandana across her forehead, and they had the same eyes and the same warm smile. She grinned and beckoned him into a hug.

"Sure am!"

The next few minutes were a blur of introductions. Hunk's dad and uncle were there to help him move stuff into the dorm, while his mother and younger siblings had wanted to be with him until they had to see him off. The little sister, too, wore a bandana and Lance wondered who had started the trend. They all waved and wished her well as they saw Veronica off. Hunk's uncle insisted on helping Lance and carrying his guitar case, promising that he knew how to handle it because he played the ukulele himself.

With the impromptu moving crew, getting everything into the dorm didn't take as long as Lance had expected it to. Hunk swore to his family that he and Lance could handle getting it all set up, urging them to go home and relax. They exchanged more hugs before they left. Already, they seemed to consider Lance a part of some big family. People like Hunk seemed to adopt everyone they met, and he had come by that honestly.

It was no wonder, really, that Lance's mother and sister approved of his recently acquired best friend. He was nice, and he was studious, and he knew when and how to keep his friends in line. A real mama's boy (not that Lance wasn't). Normally that kind of person would be Lance's idea of boring, but Hunk was all of those things on top of being funny and a general joy to be around. He could get along with anybody.

"So? You pumped?!" Hunk asked as soon as they were alone. Lance did some kind of dance move.

"HELL yeah! Let's get this stuff out of the way while I'm still high-energy."

"Sounds like a plan, my man."

Together, they dragged the furniture around. Hunk's father ran some kind of repair shop and often bought and sold things that people brought him, so he'd managed to get Hunk a decent television and blu-ray player. Lance had provided his own PlayStation, and they set a sofa and a little coffee table and some beanbag chairs around it. The school had provided two beds and two desks with chairs. Both boys claimed one of each for themselves and quickly set up their respective areas.

Lance's sheets were blue, his comforter printed with stars, and he had a multitude of throw pillows and an extra blanket his grandmother had knit for him. He threw his Star Wars and NASA and Galaxy Garrison posters up on the walls beside his bed, many of them autographed by some of his favorite astronauts and pilots. When he'd finished setting up his sleeping nest, he sat back to admire it with a smile.

Whenever he talked to most people his age, and to his siblings, about becoming a fighter pilot, he tried to sound like a big shot. He talked about becoming world-famous and making an enormous salary. But he wasn't actually in it to become rich and famous, even if he did hope that was the case. The truth was that he was, plainly and simply, smitten with space, and that he had been since he was a little boy and saw it through an expensive observatory telescope for the first time. He'd attended more rocket launches and conventions than he could count. His biggest dream, for his entire life, had been to see the cosmos up close and in person. But he didn't often talk about that. He didn't want people to think he was some kind of dork, did he?

Hunk, however, didn't judge him for it. So he felt comfortable enough, in the safety of their dorm, to set up his little shrine. Hunk's side of the room was a bit more subdued. He had a few video game posters, and one signed by some chef with Michigan stars or whatever they were called.

Lance's desk held his laptop, which was covered in random stickers, and an adjustable lamp, and plenty of notebooks and pens and pencils. He'd thrown out the ones he'd bitten into. Which was a lot. He'd always been a fidgety sort. Hunk's laptop was often used for fancy engineering stuff that Lance didn't understand and had to run coding programs, and he was known to host online game sessions with other guys his age, so he had a slightly more sophisticated setup and a nice headset.

A round checkered rug, a shoe caddy, and a coat hanger completed the room, and with that, both boys plopped down on their new couch. Hunk didn't seem to care that his roommate's long legs were in his personal space. Lance couldn't always help that.

"I guess that takes care of your energy problem," Hunk laughed. Lance groaned.

"Yeah. I'm beat."

"Well, we don't have to worry about classes until tomorrow."

"And what do you want to do in the meantime?"

Hunk sat up, letting out a huff of breath as he did so.

"I wanted to try and get to know the other guys on our floor, see if there's anybody we don't already know. And I wanna get a good look at those kitchens."

Lance beamed at that. Hunk was a phenomenal chef, so he didn't have any objections to sharing a kitchen with the guy.

They waited for a while before they set off, as each boy wanted to catch his breath first. A thorough exploration of the floor revealed that Lance already knew most of their neighbors, with the exception of a couple of freshman and recent transfers that it seemed like he didn't have much in common with anyway. The floor's media room had a large sectional and a big TV and a pool table, while the kitchen was small but fully stocked. There was a large bathroom full of showers, while dorms thankfully had their own toilets (Lance didn't like the idea of sharing toilet space with so many people he didn't know, even if he'd had to share with his siblings). He heard from others that some people's dorms had their own showers, and that one even had a tub. There were cleaning supplies in the hallway closet, there was a decent laundry room, and everything was clean and organized. Lance hoped it would stay that way. His previous roommate had been messy and his floor had been loud.

After returning to the dorm, Lance noticed that Hunk had been texting someone for a while. He casually announced that a visitor would be stopping by soon. Lance liked meeting people, so of course he didn't mind, but he was curious as to who Hunk would have invited over that he didn't already know.

A knock sounded on the door before long. Lance went to answer it and found himself very surprised. He was looking at what he assumed was a young boy, and he looked like someone's little brother who'd gotten lost and didn't belong on a college campus.

"...Can I help you?" Lance asked cautiously, shooting Hunk a confused glance over his shoulder. The kid peered over Lance and lit up when he spotted Hunk.

"Yeah, I'm here to see Hunk! I like what you guys have done with your dorm."

"Hey, thanks! Took a while, but we powered through it." Hunk replied. He gestured for Lance to move aside and welcomed the bespectacled child into the dorm. "Sorry to hear about your roommate, but we do have our own TV setup here, so you're welcome to stop by to play your games."

"Dude." Lance pulled Hunk back for a moment, eying the newcomer as he made his way for the TV. He had some kind of video game system with him, but it wasn't something Lance had seen in at least a decade. "Who's that?"

Hunk gave him a blank stare for a moment.

"Uh, don't you remember? The two of us hung out at orientation. You were probably too busy ogling the exchange students to remember that, though."

"I don't know who that guy is!"

"That's a girl, Lance."

"What?!"

"Are you two aware that you're incapable of whispering?" said girl grumbled from the TV, where she had already plugged in her console. Lance really hadn't been able to tell at a glance. She didn't look especially masculine, but she wore her hair short, she didn't seem to wear makeup or jewelry, and her baggy clothes looked like something a preteen boy would wear. Lance ignored her in favor of continuing to question Hunk.

"Who is she, though?"

"That's Pidge. She's Matt's little sister."

At that, Lance's mind froze and his mouth dropped open in horror. First of all, what kind of a name was Pidge? Secondly, he hoped Hunk was referring to a different Matt. Because if they were thinking of the same Matt, Lance may have accidentally offended the sibling of someone who was very much capable of making his life miserable.

"Matt. As in Matthew Holt? Our RA? Star student? Competitive robotics team captain? Son of the dean? THAT Matt?"

"Yes, that would be my brother," the girl answered loudly. She already didn't seem to like Lance very much, but he'd forgive her for that, seeing as he'd spent the whole time side-eying her and asking indirect questions. He decided to try and clear the air.

"Well, sorry for my interest, but I didn't know he had a sister."

Something briefly flashed through Pidge's expression at that. It wasn't quite a glare, but it was the formation of one. It passed as quickly as it had appeared and she donned a casual kind of smirk, shrugging her shoulders.

"Yeah, well, he's always been the celebrity between the two of us. I'm sure he doesn't leave me out on purpose, he's just... busy. You just listed a bunch of the stuff he does, right?"

Lance nodded as he took that in. He didn't see Matt all that often anyway, and the guy was always juggling a thousand projects and assignments. People closer to him probably knew about his sister.

"Look, I don't wanna come across as rude, but you don't look old enough to be here. I was a little confused!"

Pidge looked smug as she adjusted her glasses. They had big, round lenses that didn't suit someone her apparent age, and they flashed as they reflected the fluorescent lights, making her look like some kind of maniacal anime villain. 

"I'm not, technically," she boasted. "I graduated a year early and wanted to get started right away. They couldn't legally keep me from enrolling just because of that. I had the diploma and the grades, so here we are."

Lance whistled. The kid had some fight in her. He'd give her that.

"Impressive! The brains run in the family, huh?"

"I'll say," Hunk agreed. Colleen Holt practically ran the school, her husband was probably on some big space mission as they spoke, and her son was a certified genius. It wasn't much surprise that she had a genius for a daughter, too.

"Anyway, sorry if you didn't get any notice, but Hunk and I got to know each other pretty well at orientation and I mentioned my retro game collection. Hunk said I could come and play with him if I wanted. And then I ended up getting a real stick in the mud for a roommate. She won't let me use a TV at all! I tried to explain how headphones work, and I tried to promise I would only play when she wasn't there, but... it's more trouble than it's worth."

Lance hadn't gotten a great first impression of the girl, but with that explanation, he totally understood.

"Dude, that's fine by me. My roommate last year was hell. Go crazy! I'm about to try and take a nap anyway."

Pidge flashed him a thumbs up before she eagerly returned to her game system. Even after he threw himself onto his mattress, Lance peeked at the two of them occasionally. Pidge explained how the game worked, and Hunk acquainted himself with the controller, and they both laughed a lot. They already looked like a big brother and little sister. It was nice to see two people get along so well.

And Pidge seemed alright. Weird name and anime glasses and all.

— ◦ ✦ ◦ —

Lance didn't take a nap.

He fell into an accidental coma.

"I would've woken you if we had plans or something, but I figured if you were that out of it you probably needed the sleep," Hunk explained when Lance awoke, confused and groggy, to find that it was already the next morning. He wanted to be mad, but Hunk was probably right. He hadn't slept at all the previous night.

Pidge's system was still on their entertainment center. Apparently she planned to become a regular fixture around the place. Lance didn't mind that so long as the kid behaved herself. Maybe they could become friends.

He stretched out his stiff muscles, wincing at the way that his bones cracked, and jumped out of bed. He had classes that day. Nothing too early, thank god, but early enough that he couldn't dawdle and lounge around in bed for another hour. The first day of classes was always a rush. He knew that he had to do it now if he wanted to have any time to practice.

Hunk watched as Lance pulled his guitar from his case. He knew not to demand that Lance play anything specific, but he did always seem intrigued.

"You got any students this year?" Hunk asked. Lance nodded as he made sure the instrument was tuned correctly.

"I was teaching a few kids from my place over the summer, and we set up Skype lessons. There's three of them. Might be four soon."

"That's great to hear! I know I hate having to ask my family for money, so it's good to have a side hustle." Hunk shuddered at the mention of loans. Lance doubted that Hunk's family would refuse him, but Hunk probably just felt bad about it.

Hunk did a lot of odd jobs. He had managed to earn a decent amount of side money fixing things for students and even some teachers the previous year. He had a mechanic's training thanks to working under his father. For the same reason, he was Lance and his group's primary source of transport— he'd been able to buy a beat-up old van from his dad's coworker and fix it up himself, saving thousands of dollars.

Lance, meanwhile, taught little kids the basics of playing guitar. And sometimes he looked after children. He'd grown up with so many younger cousins that he'd had to learn to look after kids when he was still young himself. And now he was known to be left in charge of his niece and nephew on a regular basis. Kids, to him, were a breeze. They weren't as judgmental as teenagers and adults. For that reason, his side work hardly felt like work at all.

"Are you still aiming for Phi Beta Tau?" Hunk asked after a minute. He knew that it was alright to talk when Lance was practicing as long as he wasn't too loud. Lance nodded.

"Still wish my mom would've let me play soccer, but, y'know... I wanted to try and do both, so at least I can still do one of them." Lance snort-laughed and played an aggressive chord. "She doesn't want me playing soccer because she thinks I'll just goof off and won't focus on my studies! I don't know if she actually gets what a fraternity IS."

Hunk shrugged. He was sitting at his desk, probably getting himself organized before he had to head to his own classes.

"Frats look good on resumes."

"So does sports!"

"Yeah, but do you actually wanna be a professional athlete? Odds are it won't be relevant to your career path. Plus most athlete careers only last, like, six years or something. Your mom's just looking out for you."

Lance frowned.

"...Nah, I don't wanna play professionally. Too much moving around, I think. It'd be stressful." Lance wanted to see the world, sure, but he still liked having a place to call home, even if it was a temporary one, and coming home to familiar people.

Lance finished practicing and tucked his guitar back into its case and under his bed. He quickly rifled through his nightstand, making sure he'd stuffed his student visa paperwork in the bottom of the drawer, and then found his class schedule. Hunk's was still sitting on the corner of his desk. Lance squinted at the papers, confirming something he hadn't been able to remember for certain.

"We don't have as many classes together this year. Guess that makes sense, through. Now that we're done most of the basic courses our career tracks are splitting us up."

Hunk sighed and shook his head.

"Yeah, it sucks, but we get to stay in the same room this year. We'll make up for lost time."

Lance gave him a hard but affectionate slap on the shoulder before he headed off to the showers.

Lance was a lot of things, but he wasn't particularly great at managing his time. He spent a typically long time in the shower and fixing his hair and taking care of his skin, and then he and Hunk got a bit too caught up in testing out the kitchen and making a great breakfast with the food Hunk had grabbed when Lance was still sleeping the night before. It was only when the food was mostly finished that Lance glanced at the clock on the wall and realized, with a start, that they both had classes starting in roughly ten minutes.

"Holy— roll out! Look at the clock!" Lance cried as he sprang from his seat. Hunk shrieked. He didn't intend to leave his breakfast unfinished, though, so he grabbed his last slice of toast as he chased after his roommate. They tore through their rooms in a hurry to grab their supplies and were out of the building, sprinting, in record time.

"Dude, this is SO anime right now," Hunk shouted. At least, that's what Lance thought he said. It was hard to understand him with the slice of toast in his mouth. Also, Hunk really shouldn't have been able to run that fast considering his size.

"I won't be associated with weebs, Hunk!" Lance did an elaborate spin to avoid crashing into an unsuspecting freshman. Hunk snickered.

"Your ringtone is Tank—"

"Shut up!" With that, they arrived at the quad, at which point they'd have to split up to make it to their respective classrooms. Lance gestured wildly to the left of him. "Meetcha for coffee and lunch, okay?! The usual spot!"

"Got it! See ya, space cowboy!"

Hunk vanished into the crowd and Lance rolled into the building. He nearly slipped as his sneakers hit the tile. The clock ticked dangerously close to the start of class. Lance skidded down the hallways and stumbled into several other students as he rounded the corner into his designated classroom. He shouted apologies at them as he ran past, but he didn't feel all that sorry about it. What were they doing standing around the door and chatting, anyway? People had places to be!

Once he was safely in the room, he took a mental snapshot of the place. And right away, something seemed off.

Lance wasn't the most popular guy on campus, not by a long shot, but he had been well-liked the previous year and most of the people he came across seemed to know who he was or had at least seen him somewhere before. So it wasn't any surprise that he'd been able to "reserve" a seat. Professor Shirogane didn't assign seating, but there was a social order to these things. A quiet understanding. Lance admired Professor Shirogane and wanted to make a good impression in his classes, so he had always sat in the front row, three seats away from the wall and its windows. Not quite front and center, but obvious enough. This seat had been regarded as his seat from the third or fourth time he'd sat there, and even if he was running late, people didn't dare take his seat.

That had changed. A student he hadn't seen before was planted firmly in his chair, slouched across the desk and tapping an impatient rhythm on its surface with— with a pen? No, not a pen. A paperclip. A large paperclip that had been straightened out and then mangled into some kind of twisty shape.

Lance had watched the way the popular kids handled these things. They did it with effortless confidence and a commanding presence. He strode right up to the boy, puffed out his chest, and leaned against it slightly. The other guy looked up at him. Sort of. He peeked up in his direction through a thick fringe of black hair.

"Can I help you?" he grumbled. His tone was already unfriendly, like he didn't actually want to help anyone, least of all Lance McClain. Lance didn't let that sway him in any visible way.

"Yeah, actually. See, you're kind of in my seat, so, if you don't mind..."

The unfamiliar student glared up at him. There were heavy bags under his eyes that almost looked painted on for how dark they were. He looked around the room, confirming that people were sitting wherever they wanted and that the professor had yet to arrive. He locked eyes with Lance.

"I don't see your name on it."

His voice was scratchy. It was REALLY scratchy, almost prepubescent in how much it cracked. He was wearing a stupid red and white jacket (and boots that matched) that looked like they belonged in a 1980's music video and not on any modern-day college student, and he actually had fingerless gloves on like he thought himself some kind of edgy emo badass circa 2012. And that wasn't even touching on the subject of his god-awful hair. Was that some kind of mullet? He hadn't seen one of those in what felt like centuries.

"So?!" Lance retorted, in between thoughts of get a load of this guy! He crossed his arms. "It's my seat! Everybody knows that! I sit here every day!"

"Well, it's the first day of classes, I just got here, and I don't even know who you are." Lance started trying to explain EXACTLY who he was, and the boy interrupted him. "And don't bother telling me. I really don't give a shit."

Lance could hardly believe what he was hearing. Refusing was one thing, but this guy was above and beyond. He wasn't even bothering to look at him now. He rested his head on his hand and looked around the room, likely trying to size up the other students. Probably the type to pick fights, Lance thought.

"What's your problem?!" Lance shouted, throwing his arms out at his sides. The student snorted.

"MY problem? I'm just trying to sit. You're the one that thinks you own the place."

"Wha— that's not— dude, just get out of my seat! Don't you know anything about pecking orders?!"

The student looked him dead in the eyes.

"I don't. Get lost," he retorted. Lance leaned in. He was too thin to be threatening, but he felt like he had to try. People were watching. Girls were watching.

"Get. Out. Of. My. Seat." With each word, he pounded the table. The other guy didn't so much as look down at his hands, and he definitely didn't flinch. Instead, he mockingly imitated Lance's gesture and intonation, only louder and more openly threatening, in his own response.

"Get. Fucked."

He practically spat that last word. Lance didn't have a chance to articulate just how pissed off he was. He stood there, mouth hanging open, as the professor walked in and commanded everyone's attention. In the time he'd spent arguing, most of the front rows had filled up, so Lance had no choice but to take a seat in the fourth row. He glared at the back of the rude guy's head, at his stupid, awful hair, and hoped he could feel the force of it from where he was sitting. In Lance's seat.

"It's nice to see all of you again," the professor said as everyone scrambled to sit down and pay attention. "And I see some new faces as well. We'll have time to get to know one another later, but for now, I want to outline what you can all expect from this course."

The room fell into a reverent silence, as it always did whenever Takashi Shirogane was speaking.

Of all of the university's professors, Professor Shirogane was easily the most revered, and this was despite the fact that he'd only been teaching for a few years and wasn't all that much older than his students. This was because the guy was a living legend. The youngest person to ever go on a mission into deep space. For whatever reason, he had retired from piloting rather suddenly, but now he was teaching here.

Being in Professor Shirogane's classes was like being allowed in the presence of a celebrity. And the fact that he remembered the names of his students, and that he went out of his way to accommodate them? Honestly, it made Lance feel like a celebrity himself. They say that one should never meet his heroes, but Lance wanted to laugh at those people. He'd met his and he was AWESOME. Humble, too— the guy had seemed almost confused when Lance had asked for his autograph the previous year.

"We'll only be using this classroom until the new one is finished. Remember, this is the advanced class, so hands-on learning is essential! Right now, we're nearing completion of the specialized classroom. Each desk is, essentially, a very small computer simulator. The full-scale practice models are still under construction, and will be for some time, but when they are finished, you can sign up via the website to reserve them for practice. These machines will also be used for your exams. And, if need be, I'll be available for one-on-one tutoring for those of you that truly feel you need it and have exhausted all of your other options. Does everyone understand?"

There was a resounding chorus of agreement. Lance shot another glare at mullet boy. How had he gotten into the advanced class anyway? He hadn't been there the previous year. Lance would definitely have remembered a guy like that. Maybe he'd ask around. Maybe he'd just been in a separate class or something. Maybe Hunk knew him? He definitely didn't care.

Lance tried not to let his irritation distract him as he got to work. Though Professor Shirogane was fair, his classes were often difficult, and he moved through the initial explanations quickly. One had to type down notes furiously if they hoped to get it all down. It was almost too much to absorb all at once, but Lance knew it got a bit easier as time went on and that it was a waste to worry so much this early.

Time flew, and before he knew it, class was dismissed. The professor flashed a bright smile.

"It was great to see you all again! I look forward to when we can all make use of the simulators."

The professor did something that set Lance off, that reminded him of the anger he'd nearly forgotten in his academic focus— he smiled at mullet boy. Lance gave the back of him another once-over and noticed that he wasn't using a laptop. He was using a tablet, and a specific kind with a distinctive logo on it. They were given out by the school to students that couldn't afford their own computers.

Lance raised an eyebrow very slightly. He wasn't gonna judge the guy for not being able to afford things— he wasn't an asshole. But it DID tell him that mullet boy didn't much care for other people's opinions. The school had plenty of scholarship students that could use a free tablet, but it ALSO had an overwhelming number of rich kids who would turn up their noses at "handouts". For that reason, most of the kids who could really use the things wouldn't be caught dead taking advantage of the program. Mullet boy didn't give a shit. That, at least, he could respect if he wasn't a total jerk.

People shuffled out of the room, and the boy antagonist disappeared with them. He didn't so much as look back at Lance. Lance took a moment to collect himself before he got up, earning a concerned glance from the professor. He was alright, on a technical level, but he wanted to try and cool down before he went and made a fool out of himself.

Lance would have never known, before that very day, that there was such a thing as utter hatred at first sight.

— ◦ ✦ ◦ —

When the day's classes were finally finished and "lunch time" arrived, Lance made his way to a particular tree near the outdoor eating area full of picnic tables. It was where he and Hunk met up when they were planning to get food together at the campus coffee place. It was decent food, even if it was just sandwiches and things, and pretty cheap, but nothing spectacular. Lance only ate there so often because certain other people also frequented that café. The aforementioned exchange students.

There was a sizable crowd already forming as people filed out of the buildings, one by one. On a differently-scheduled day, he and Hunk might have taken the time to eat in the cafeteria between classes. But on a packed day like this one, it made sense to wait. Lance's stomach, impatient for food, growled at him. Nearly fifteen minutes passed before he spotted his friend.

"Dude, what happened to you?" Hunk asked through an incredulous laugh as he approached. Lance felt his face flush with both fury and embarrassment. He thought he had worked it out of his system. He'd been consciously trying not to think about it. Now he knew why people had been going out of their way not to walk too close to him— nobody wanted to get too close to the guy brooding under a tree.

"I don't wanna talk about it," he said vaguely. Hunk didn't accept that answer. He prodded and prodded, as they walked, until Lance finally spilled. He explained what had happened with the chair incident.

"...That's it?" Hunk deadpanned. Lance scoffed.

"Hey, look— it's not so much that he refused! It's the WAY he refused!"

"What could he have possibly said to set you off this bad?"

"He literally told me to get fucked."

"That... that'll do it, yeah," Hunk admitted, looking genuinely surprised. "But, hey, it's not worth picking any fights over. Everyone's a little stressed out this time of year. He might have just been feeling grouchy."

Lance grumbled something under his breath. That was a plausible explanation, but didn't seem right. Everything about that kid had screamed "emo" and "loner". So there was a good chance he acted like that all the time.

He didn't have long to think it over. Lance and his companion arrived at the café, and Hunk started to rattle off their usual orders to the lone barista attending the counter before he paused and his eyes lit up with recognition. Lance's lit up with a different emotion.

"Oh, hey! What's up, man? It's been a while!" Hunk called, sounding even cheerier than he usually did. The barista flinched.

"Uh..." it took him an uncomfortably long time to collect himself. "Hunk, right? I've been... fine. Good. I've been good." It sounded like a lie. The boy, who had a stupid mullet, held eye contact with Hunk for a moment before he allowed his gaze to pan over. As soon as he saw Lance, his mouth curled down at the corners and his eyes narrowed. "Oh. And YOU."

"Uh oh," Hunk mumbled to himself. He was smarter than people thought he was. He knew what was going on. Lance slammed a hand down on the counter.

"You little— what are you doing here?!"

"I'm... working?" Mullet boy replied. "Kind of like how I was sitting in the desk that's made for sitting. Hunk can explain to you how furniture and buildings work if you really need an explanation."

"YOU—"

Hunk shoved Lance backwards with the back of his hand against his chest. Lance sputtered for a retort, but irritatingly, mullet boy seemed like the type who wouldn't care what he had to say. Unbothered. Like Lance was little more than a gnat that he could just swat away.

"Keith, yeah? It's Keith?" Hunk asked. Mullet boy— Keith, apparently— nodded. Lance rolled his eyes. Keith. What an ugly name. Keith. Who the hell looked at a baby and said 'You know what, honey? Let's name him Keith'? Not any normal person. "I didn't see you last year! I definitely would have remembered if I did. Didja transfer from somewhere else? What are you studying?"

Keith didn't seem to like to make eye contact with people when they were talking to him. He glanced at Hunk, but didn't hold the gaze. Lance guessed that he didn't talk to people often. Apparently the boys knew each other well enough to recognize one another, but weren't exactly best friends, or else there would have been more excitement and they wouldn't have had to make sure they had each other's names right.

"I did my first year online. I'm in the fighter pilot program," Keith answered unenthusiastically. Lance growled when he heard that. Keith was in the same course? Hunk shoved him again. He wasn't going to let Lance fight him, apparently. Not that Lance actually had any intention of throwing a punch. He just wanted to give Keith a piece of his mind.

"What did you guys say you wanted again?" Keith asked, but not before yawning. Those bags were still under his eyes and were actually worse in this lighting. He looked like he hadn't slept in about a year. Honestly, Lance wondered how he was standing. Hunk laughed, apologizing for stalling Keith from doing his job. Even though there wasn't a line. He repeated the orders, occasionally shooting a warning in the form of a look in Lance's direction. Keep your mouth shut, his eyes said. "Okay. I know Hunk's name, but you're..."

Lance glared at Keith. He was asking so he could write it on the cups, probably, but Lance still didn't appreciate it.

"Lance," he said. "Not that it's any of your business!"

"I don't actually CARE. I just... gotta put it on the cup." Keith's movements were sluggish as he moved away from the counter. Lance shouted after him, but Keith paid him no mind. Hunk shushed him. Other people were showing up and forming a short line behind them.

Keith was accompanied by only one other person, who threw together the sandwiches and chips, while he took care of the actual coffee. He scribbled something on the cups and handed them over. He didn't bother to yell out their names. Which made sense. Lance made sure to look him in the eye and glower at him as he took the warm cup from him. Keith was still wearing those dumb gloves.

He hated his guts, sure, but Lance wasn't planning to stir anything up in front of the other patrons. He wasn't, anyway, until he actually looked at the cup and felt horribly slighted.

"Who the hell is LIAM?!" Lance screeched. Keith squinted at him.

"...What?"

"Liam! You wrote Liam, ya jerk!"

"So? How does that make me a jerk?"

"Because that's not my name! You did that on purpose!"

"I thought you said—"

"You've got some nerve, you know that?! How petty do you have to be to—"

"LANCE." Hunk grabbed Lance by his hood and tugged him away from the counter. Keith seemed dazed and continued to stare at the spot where he'd been standing. As soon as Lance had regained his footing, and Hunk verified that he hadn't spilled his drink, he led him away by the shoulder. "Talk to you later, Keith! It was nice seeing you again!"

"You bet," Keith shouted back. He sounded a bit sarcastic, or maybe just overwhelmed. He might have laughed. The joyless kind of laugh.

Hunk didn't say anything more until they were a good way away from the café. They earned a few questioning stares like that. Hunk looked like a mother cat dragging its kitten around by biting the back of its neck. When the food pavilion was entirely out of sight, Hunk released him, finally getting to check the bag of food and make sure the order was actually correct. He seemed satisfied with what he saw there.

"What the hell is his problem?!" Lance asked the universe, gesturing behind him to indicate the now-distant barista. Hunk groaned.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe the fact that you called him a jerk for no reason?"

"For no reason?! He wrote my name wrong!"

"Dude, I just don't think he heard you right. You saw him. Guy could have really used a nap. Don't you think it could have been an accident?"

"Sure, if he wasn't the same asshole that took my seat."

"It's not assigned seating, Lance! The desk doesn't have your name on it!"

With that, Hunk gave up with a heavy sigh. He had the air of an exasperated parent. Lance continued to glare at his coffee cup and at the the blasphemous name there as he thought. Then, he turned to frown and raise an eyebrow at his roommate.

"...So you actually know that guy."

"Yep."

"You've met before."

"Yeah. Uh-huh."

Lance left a long pause, waiting for Hunk to elaborate, before he dramatically threw up his free arm.

"Are you gonna explain, or do you insist on being vague?!"

"If you want me to tell you, you have to ask, man. I'm not a mind reader!" Hunk seemed to be concealing a smirk for a second. "...I know him from high school, that's all."

"Were you friends?"

"Not... Not exactly? I mean, we talked from time to time and I helped him with a few math problems. Gave him some pointers, told him where he could find help online, that kind of thing. But he's... What can I say?" Hunk shrugged, and he looked kind of worried. This Keith was already proving to be troublesome. "He's a really private dude. Even if you were on friendly terms with him, it's not like he was coming over to your house on the weekends or eating lunch with you. He was always by himself. Seemed to prefer it that way, too, but as far as I know, he's not a bad guy."

"Sounds like a loser, as far as I'm concerned," Lance spat. Hunk rolled his eyes.

"You don't mean that."

"Well, nobody wanted to hang out with him, right?! Don't you think that was for a reason?!"

Hunk didn't answer that question. He looked up at the sky, scratching his chin in deep thought. His brow wrinkled as he tried to remember something.

"Kogane," Hunk recalled aloud with a snap of his fingers. "That's his name. It's Keith Kogane. I couldn't place it for a minute."

"Kogane?!" Lance snickered immaturely. "That sounds like a brand of toothpaste!"

Hunk stopped walking.

"It... Holy shit. It totally does." He had to recover from that realization before he could move again. They both sat down at one of the picnic tables, these ones closer to their dormitory. There were plenty of benches and things on the grounds. It was supposed to encourage people to get out and about. "So the food court looks a little different than it did last time, huh? I wanna try that new sandwich bistro."

"You mean the glorified Subway?"

"It's about trying new things, Lance. It doesn't have to be great."

"Is there a type of food you don't like?"

Hunk contemplated that for a few seconds.

"Not really. I have a very diverse palate."

In truth, Lance was similar. He'd try anything at least once. But Hunk was an actual gourmand, and he could describe the tastes and textures like a proper chef.

"That café is seriously understaffed," Hunk murmured. He wasn't wrong about that. There had been a few times the previous year when Lance had thought he was about to watch a barista break down and cry. Those days, he and Hunk would usually decide to go somewhere else. "I would have thought they'd have hired more people this year considering how bad it was last time around."

"Well, hey, you know people around here," Lance replied. "Probably think they're too good to work food service, and if they do it they'll do it where nobody on campus will see 'em. But if you need the money you're not worrying about that kind of thing." He thought again about Keith's tablet. Hunk grimaced at Lance's point.

"Oh, yeah. I guess that makes sense. I'll never get people like that! Money is money. We all gotta start somewhere. Where I grew up, everybody knew I worked in the garage with my dad, and my clothes got greasy so often that I sometimes didn't have anything clean to wear. And nobody cared. It's honest work. But I'll bet you half of these people wouldn't be caught dead doing manual labor."

"You've got that right."

Hunk laughed, and then he started talking about one of their dormitory neighbors. He was learning to play tabletop games from him. And Lance was listening to Hunk, of course, but found that he couldn't fully focus his mind on the conversation. Every time he lifted his cup to take another sip of coffee, he caught sight of the incorrect name there. And then he was reminded of the unpleasant person who'd put it there. It hadn't occurred to him until then that he was going to be seeing a lot of Keith. They shared his first class of the day. Keith wasn't gonna ruin his favorite class for him, was he?

Lance couldn't claim to know everything, and he couldn't see into the future, but he knew one thing for certain: he and Keith Kogane would never get along.

— ◦ ✦ ◦ —

A/N: as an advance warning, keith and lance are both absolute dumbasses for like half this fic and you'll probably wanna scream at them a few times. i'm trying to exaggerate and explore the whole "growing up" thing. we all did stuff when we were younger that we look back on now and think "why the hell did i do that? i was such a jerk back then!" i'm trying to paint a very clear arc of growth. so if one of them does something that's really dumb, don't take it as me endorsing it!