A/N: Warning for lots of cursing. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Keith wakes up at an average time in the morning, but with his bleating alarm to remind him of the long day of schooling and work ahead, it becomes much less enjoyable. With a tired groan, Keith forces himself out of bed. He stands there rubbing his sleepy eyes until the loud clashing of pans jolts him out of it. "Intruder" is his immediate thought.
     Keith ignores his body's half asleep state and slides into the kitchen in his plaid pajama pants and tee shirt.  He tenses up at the sight of Lance, standing over Keith's stove in Keith's shirt.  "Lance?  What are you doing there?!" he screeches.  Lance lifts up a pan from one of the lower cabinets, making Keith jump into some sort of bizarre pose to defend himself from the weapon.
     "Breakfast...?" Lance says, swinging the pan around in his hand.  "Y'know, the most important meal of the day.  What's wrong with you?"
     "What's wrong with me?" Keith repeats.  "How'd you even get in here?"
     Lance rolls his eyes, half laughing, though a bit nervously.  "Keith, my buddy, you must be sleeping still.  You let me in."
     Keith's face drops, and he goes into immediate hysteria.  He runs his hands through his hair, wheezing out laughter.  "I let you in?  A criminal?  A felon?  I let you into my home?"
     Lance clutches his arm awkwardly, pan swinging from his other hand at his side.  "Yeah, you do like to bring that up at every chance you get."  Keith continues sputtering nonsense about Lance's less than legal activities, making the latter blush a bit in embarrassment.  Lance puffs his cheeks up and sighs, setting the pan down on the counter and pulling a chair out at Keith's small dining table to sit.  "Look," he starts slowly.  "I know what I did was wrong.  And I really, really regret it.  All of it."
     Keith mouths a small, surprised, "Oh."
     "It was just...Well, there's really no excuse for it.  I've just been going through some rough shit, and I was just so tired of it all.  I needed a way to escape.  And drinking, stealing on top of that, was not the way to go.  So, I'm really"-Lance looks up at Keith sincerely-"really grateful that you're letting me stay here.  Even if you plan on kicking me out in the next minute."
     Keith swallows thickly, shocked out of his state of madness.  He purses his lips.  "Um..."
Lance stands up from his chair, smiling lopsidedly. "Breakfast?"
The words are caught in the Keith's throat, but he eventually forces out the, "That would be great." Lance smiles more sincerely and gets to working on it, pulling eggs from the fridge. Keith watches him for a moment in an awkward silence, trying to divert his eyes by looking at the clock above the stove. Keith's breath hitches. "Hell! I've got to get dressed!" He runs out of the room, and Lance stifles a laugh.
     Lance finishes the scrambled eggs and sets them down on two plates on the table, just as Keith comes running out with his hair brushed and actual clothes on.  He sits down, shouts a quick, "Th-Thanks!" and speedily proceeds to shovel the eggs down his throat.  And with that, Keith dashes out the door.  It slams shut behind him.
Lance sighs, playing with his eggs.  He's all alone.
     Keith hardly makes it to school on time.  It takes Pidge and Hunk a whole lot to keep him awake today.  After that, he sprints to work, realizing only then that he left his umbrella at home.  What an idiot.  Lex questions Keith's soaked attire. Keith ignores him and proceeds to work until closing time. Keith stares through the glass doors of the Center Grocery with an agitated look. Rain pounds against it. Keith grabs a taxi for the way home.
     Keith arrives at his apartment loudly, slamming the door shut and groaning exasperatedly.  He jumps a bit when he remembers Lance is still there (as if he hadn't been on Keith's mind all day), only after he sees the boy sleeping in an uncomfortable looking position on Keith's couch.  The television drones on quietly in the background.  Keith walks over slowly, the only sound being the fabric of his clothing rubbing together as he moves.  He cautiously shuts the TV off.  Lance stirs.  Keith wonders briefly if he sleeps best with the noise. 
     "Keith...?" Lance mutters sleepily, stealing his attention.
     Keith freezes up.  After a moment of silence, he asks, "Did you kill anyone today?"
     Lance coughs out a single, "Ha."  He stands up, stretching his back out.  "No, but I'm working on it."  Keith grimaces distastefully.  Lance slaps him on the back, making Keith flinch.  "C'mon, man, it was just a joke.  How was your day?"
     Keith stares blankly at Lance in confusion.  He shakes his head, walking away.  "Whatever.  I'm going to bed.  Eat something from the fridge if you're hungry."
     "Oh...kay?" Lance replies, watching Keith disappear into his bedroom.  Lance shrugs and chooses to get to sleeping on the couch.
Lance sleeps in a little later the next morning, only waking up to hear the front door slam shut. Keith just left. Lance sighs in disappointment and rolls over to try to fall back asleep.
Keith gets back late at night, shaking out his umbrella as he enters his apartment. "Break anything?" Keith asks Lance, his lack of sleep evident in his groggy voice.
"No?" Lance replies from his station on the couch, trying to smile at Keith's half hearted joke. Keith has already shut himself away in his bedroom.
     The next day goes just about the same.  Lance has taken to abusing Keith's television to watch the History Channel's alien programs all day, being careful to avoid the news channel.  Keith arrives home late even grumpier than the previous day.  "D'you steal anything?"
     "No," Lance says, staring blankly at the television and wondering why people go to college when you can get a lifetime's worth of knowledge of the ancient astronaut theory when sitting home for a day.  He's already aware that Keith didn't stay to hear his answer. 
     Lance wakes up again to the sound of Keith's departure.  The television is still on from the night before, 24/7 alien theories.  Lance whines, resting his hand on his cheek.  It's better than being alone in jail.  He feels just as solitary, though. 
     Keith stomps through the door late that evening.  His friends were starting to notice his bitter attitude.  Keith clenches his teeth as he heads to his bedroom.  "When are you going to turn yourself in?"
     Lance whips around to face Keith, eyes widening in shock, maybe fear.  He feels his heart thump with a sudden violence in his chest.  "Wha-"  Keith had already disappeared. 
     The next day, Lance is having none of it.  He puffs up his cheeks angrily, trying with all he has left to mask his fear.  He tried to play cool and just avoid the matter altogether, but Keith just went and said it.  "When are you going to turn yourself in?"  Lance bites his lip at the recent memory, not wanting to admit defeat and surrender to the tears that escape from his eyes and fall down his cheeks.  He will wait for the door all day.  He will ask Keith what he really meant by that.
Keith finally arrives back, muttering something about opening a voicemail as he enters the door, lifting his phone to his ear.
Lance jumps up immediately.  "Keith-!"  Lance stops in confusion when he sees Keith standing still in silence, watching as his face drops completely and his neck bobs as he swallows thickly.  Keith's empty black eyes are fixated on the floor in front of him.  His pink lips are agape.  His entire face had paled.  A single, stray tear rolls down his cheek, leaving behind a cold sting.  "Keith...?" Lance repeats quietly. 
     Keith's phone skids to the floor as he releases his grip on it, wailing angrily and holding his face in his hands as the tears come pouring out.  He coughs and sputters in rage as his face and palms are covered in the tears. 
     Lance takes a few cautious steps towards Keith.  "Keith, buddy, what's wrong...?"  He reaches a hand towards the raven haired man who had nearly collapsed to the floor. 
     Keith smacks Lance away, glaring at the Latino through blurred vision.  "G-Get away from me!  Don't touch me!  Why are you even here still?!"
     Lance grimaces in surprise.  "What did I ever do to you?"
     "Wha...?" Keith starts in disbelief.  "You've done nothing but sit around and mooch off me for the past week, there's one thing!  Not to mention, you also nearly stabbed me through the neck!  Almost decapitated me, there's a three pointer vocab word!  You probably didn't learn that one before dropping out of high school, did ya?"
     Lance spits in disgust.  "I graduated from high school!  I'm sorry I don't have rich parents to pay for me to fly off to Harvard!"
     Keith growls.  "Whatever, it's not like they'd accept a bum like you.  No one wants to hang around your kinda shit, don't know why you thought I would."
     Lance sniffs angrily, wiping the formation of tears from his eyes.  "Wow, fuck you.  I wouldn't have guessed it by the way you've been ignoring me all week.  Y'know, Keith, I tried being nice.  Maybe you would've noticed if you had actually hung around this piece of shit."
     Keith hisses.  "When did this ever become about you?  If you're so desperate to talk about yourself, just go to the damn judge already."
     Lance clenches his teeth.  "You keep saying shit like that!  I thought you would be the one to finally understand me.  But I guess I should just take a hint already.  I'll go cry to the fucking judge, and you can go run back to your mommy and daddy so they can wipe your tears away with dollar bills."
     Keith's face falls, and he shakes his head slowly.  He hiccups, and more tears start flowing out.  He clutches his hands to his heaving chest.
"Mierda..." Lance whines quietly under his breath. Not knowing what else to do, he carefully wraps his arms around Keith. He rubs cautious circles into Keith's back and sings soft foreign lullabies, staring through his tears and up at the ceiling. He really has no clue what he's doing here. Lance looks back down at the man in his arms. "Keith...Can you please tell me what happened?"
Keith pushes against Lance's chest, distancing the two. Keith wipes his eyes. "M-my..." He coughs against his crying. "The hospital called, and...my mom has been diagnosed with stage three lung cancer." He doesn't know why he's telling Lance all this. He just needs somebody.
Lance inhales sharply. "Well, shit. Um..." Lance can't think of anything he can do. "Shit, maybe you can...just get some sleep..."
Keith nods slowly, still close enough to Lance that he can feel Keith's head bobbing up and down against his chest. Keith stands up straight, taking a deep breath. He suddenly looks so old. "Yeah. I definitely need some sleep." The way his voice wavers with sadness makes a part of Lance fall apart. Keith walks slowly to his room, forgetting the phone he dropped on the floor earlier. Maybe ignoring it.
Lance goes to sit at the couch, suddenly becoming very shaky. Tears erupt from his eyes. Shit. What was that? He almost misses the warmth of holding Keith against him. All of the emotion caves in on Lance, and he starts sobbing loudly. He should just forget all of it, all about Keith. Lance is just some disgusting piece of scum who belongs in jail for every reason.  A thief, a criminal, a felon, a bum, a piece of shit, hell, a murderer!  Every last thing that Keith had called him.  He should just die.  He should just get up and-
     "Lance...?"
     Said Latino jolts in surprise, turning to see Keith leaning against his door frame and sniveling, cheeks still flushed from all the waterworks. 
     "Can you sleep with me tonight?"

A/N: Ahaha, how was that, my friends? I hope it was sad enough. I feel like I'm making it move too fast, but I don't know. Please let me know. I hope you've enjoyed this slightly longer chapter. Updates might be getting a little slower. But again, I love hearing feedback from you all! See you next chapter! ;D