Shiro had somehow arranged to get all of the original Voltron paladins into a single room for lunch. Usually they were all off doing their own things, seeing family or working on the technologies in their separate departments of the Garrison. Despite not asking Shiro for permission, Keith had dragged James along. It had taken a lot of convincing on his part but, after a great deal of pestering, James had given up with arguing and had agreed to come.

That was how they ended up sat around the table in the new Castle of Lions kitchen. Hunk had cooked them all some pasta which he brought out to each of them individually. Once the plates were laid down in front of Lance and Pidge, they started to shovel it into their mouths as if they hadn't eaten in years. Coran ate slowly in a polite way that almost contrasted his erratic personality and Shiro waited for everyone to get their meals before tucking in. Keith ate a few bites of his before realising James hadn't even picked up his cutlery.

"Do you not like it? I can ask Hunk to-" Keith started but James quickly shook his head. Unsure of whether it was the bright lighting, Keith couldn't help but notice how green James looked.

"No, no, it's great. I'm just not hungry."

"But you didn't eat lunch either." James went silent, poking the spaghetti with his fork. The hand that wasn't holding the piece of cutlery was being used to balance his head, sad eyes staring into the dish. "Are you sure you're feeling alright?"

"I feel a bit sick..." James moved his arms so they were wrapped around his stomach and his face scrunched up in a painful wince.

"I think I should take you back to your dorm... You don't look good."

"I think I'm going to be sick."

"Hunk, can you get..." Keith trailed off once he realised that he was too late. James had heaved so loudly the world seemed to shake, vomiting all over his front. He was trembling violently and seemed to have somehow gotten even paler after being sick.

From where Shiro was sitting beside James, he pressed his hand into James's forehead. His fingertips seemed icy cold in comparison to the scorching temperature of James's face. "He's hot. I think he might have a fever," Hunk wiped James's lap with a wad of kitchen roll until there was only a stain of the moment left on James's shorts and in all of their minds. "Take him to his room and get him a wet cloth for his forehead. Coran, go and get some meds."

Coran nodded before rushing out of the room to follow through on the command. Keith helped pull James up onto his feet before guiding him down the halls. They walked at the pace of a snail as James had to stop every so often to lean against the wall to stop the room from spinning around him. Each step elicited the turning to increase in speed, making him all the more tempted to vomit again. Luckily, he wasn't sick for a second time until he was back in his dorm. That time, Keith had given him a bowl so he didn't ruin his outfit even more.

As James sat on his bed, still trembling, Keith sifted through James's wardrobe until he found a set of clean pyjamas. He turned back to James and handed them over but James didn't make any effort to move. Deciding to help him out, Keith reached out and lifted James's shirt over his head; that movement alone was enough to trigger an aching wave of pain throughout James's weak body. After, Keith helped him get the shirt on. "Would you like me to do your trousers?"

James's eyes were lidded as his head toppled forward and he tried his hardest to keep himself awake. He seemed disoriented so Keith could only frown and help him pull his trousers off and get the pyjamas on.

"James?" James hummed but didn't bother using actual words. "I'm just going to get you a wet cloth, okay? I'll be right back." Anther hum. Still distant. James didn't seem to be completely present; his mind seemed miles away. Keith rushed out of the room so he could grab a flannel from the bathroom and wet it. Once he was done, he handed it to James who didn't make the effort to press it against his head. "Lay down for me..." He pressed his hand into James's chest and lightly pushed him onto his back before laying the flannel on top of his forehead.

A knock on the door made Keith turn his head, though James didn't appear to even flinch. Keith quietly pulled the door open to reveal Coran, who was holding a box of basic nausea pills and a plastic cup of water. Keith held out his hand with a pair of pills sat on top of it but James just leaned away and mumbled something incoherent. When Keith moved closer, he could just about make out, "I can't" over and over again.

"James? You need to take..." Keith trailed off upon watching James frantically shaking his head as if taking the pill would do something drastically horrific. "Okay, fine, you don't need to take it..." Frowning, Keith climbed into bed alongside James but not after handing the two pills back to Coran. Once Keith's body was pressed up against his boyfriend's, he could have sworn he heard James murmur the words, "I'm sorry." He couldn't help but wonder if he had imagined it when he looked at James's closed eyes. Shrugging it off, he snaked his hands up to James's hair and began to play with it and whisper soft words until he joined James in a deep slumber.

-

It took James a few days to recover and go back to 'normal' but, even then, Keith couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right. He seemed... distant. That much was apparent in the way that he refused a second date with Keith and seemed to have an abundance of excuses underneath his Garrison uniform jacket. Keith had tried to lure James to come along with him and Lance on a walk (because the fresh air would do him good) but he refused, claiming that he was too tired. So Keith had left James behind in his dorm whilst he trekked the Garrison campus by Lance's side.

"So is James doing better?" Lance said. It was one of the first things he asked upon seeing Keith. Keith shrugged, frowning and glaring down at the floor as if it was responsible for the death of his father.

"I don't know honestly. He isn't sick, if that's what you mean. He does seem to be acting kind of strange though."

Lance let out a soft sigh. He had his hands buried into his pockets but pulled one out to graze it against Keith's arm. "Strange how?" It was supposed to be a friendly gesture but the heat from the contact triggered an onset of nausea in Keith's stomach.

"He's acting distant. He refused to come out with us today without a good reason."

"Oh... maybe he's still sick?"

Keith abruptly stopped in his step, turning to look at Lance but not quite meeting his eyes. "D-Do you think it could be something worse?" Keith started to fiddle with his own hands as if they were a fidget spinner, encouraging Lance to examine his entire body posture. With his hunched shoulders and moving hands, he hardly resembled the same hardcore, emo guy Lance had first met at the Garrison. He seemed almost fragile and afraid.

"Sorry?"

"Do you think he could be really sick? He was tired all the time before and I never saw him eat. Shit... what if-"

"Keith, I'm sure James is fine," Lance hesitantly wrapped his arms around Keith and pulled him into a hug. Keith chewed on his bottom lip and blinked away tears as he buried his head into Lance's neck. "Talk to him. If something was up, I think he would tell you."

"I try but he turns me down every time. I think he's trying to hide something."

Lance stayed silent for a second as he contemplated his next move like a participant in a game of chess. He had to be tactical, so he didn't hurt Keith's feelings and make things worse. "I'm sure he isn't. Maybe he's just stressed? Aren't exams coming up?"

"True..."

"Talk to him, that's the only advice I can give," They began to walk again in unison. Lance swung his arms back and forth as he moved, unable to keep them still for even the shortest moment, though his fidgeting was a result of ADHD and not nerves like Keith. "Anyways, have you seen the new Killbot Phantasm game? Pidge managed to get a copy of it and we've been playing it together. It's insane. You need to play it."

"Nah... video games are a waste of time."

Lance huffed in dissatisfaction. "You wouldn't say that if you played it. The graphics are perfect, I swear. I feel like I'm in the game."

"Good for you. I'm sorry I don't think the world is a bad enough place that I feel the need to escape through a video game."

"Wow, no need to be sarcastic."

Clearly uncomfortable with the disinteresting topic of video games, Keith jumped to another subject. "How are your family? Are things okay now?"

"They're okay. Mamá and papá are really upset that they thought I made everything up but I'm trying to convince them that it's alright. I don't... I don't think I would have believed me either, if I was them."

"It must be hard for all of you."

Lance shrugged. Keith could see all the emotional baggage hidden in the glistening depths of Lance's eyes but decided not to push it. "It's not that bad."

"So you're doing okay?"

"Yep, better than I've been in awhile." The only problems were the repressed feelings Lance had for Keith but he was never going to admit that. "I'm grateful to be back on Earth."

"Me too. I miss having the freedom to fly Red whenever I wanted though. Sometimes Earth just seems so restricting, you know?"

Lance nodded, though he hadn't paid attention to what Keith's response had been. He was deeply lost in the purple that was Keith's eyes.

But what is really wrong with James? I'm interested to see if anyone has any theories. I think I've given you some massive hints :P