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The castle was eerily quiet, the dark corridors devoid of life and the silence a prominent entity among nothing. The only bit of sound he could pick up on was the faint roar of the castle rockets, powering them further and further into the unknown.
His footsteps were light as he made sure not to cause any sort of disruption to the castle's soundless state. It was also extremely cold, and he rubbed his forearms, feeling the goosebumps prickle up his skin. The hair at the nape of his neck stood on end—something wasn't quite right. Of course, this was considered 'nighttime', judging by the clock Pidge had fixated into the system to match their circadian rhythm.
When the lights went out, it was nighttime on earth, and when it was bright with fluorescents, it was daytime. Oh, how he missed the desert sun. Sure, it was scorching hot, but it had become home after making itself a consistent companion over the span of a year. He couldn't recall a day when it wasn't there. Maybe it had rained a few times? He couldn't remember.
The only thought that flickered through his head was one of confusion and loss. It was as if his body was on autopilot, his legs carrying him towards the observation deck. Why? Maybe it was cause he couldn't sleep. Maybe it was cause something inside of him knew to go there.
And when the doors slid open, it revealed a lone figure sitting on the steps, his eyes fixated on the world beyond. Keith could recognize that head of chestnut hair and that jacket from a mile away.
His rival.
His teammate.
His friend.
The scene was peaceful—yes, a tad bit lonely—but there was a certain tranquility that wafted through the air, slowing down time and whisking away their current troubles. It masked the possibility of danger, of the battles that thundered somewhere their eyes couldn't see, of their journey.
Instead of a greeting, he moved forward, purposefully keeping his steps heavy enough to echo about the room, as to not startle the blue paladin. And when he reached him, he slid down so that they were sitting next to each other, their shoulders barely brushing.
Lance's eyes never left the giant window, his gaze hooded with awe and peace. For once, the stress didn't mar his face, softening his eyes and bringing back the youthfulness that had been stolen away much earlier.
Sometimes, Keith forgot they were all still teens, barely toeing the edge of adulthood. This war was hard, and it had forced them to grow up. They had all become warriors in children's bodies.
Neither of them made a sound, Lance watching the stars, and Keith watching Lance. Then he turned away, almost reluctantly. The only sounds that could reach his ears were his faint heartbeat as it drummed against his chest, the soft breathing that came from the pair, and the light roar of the engines.
Outside, everything was changing. From the planets that were changing course to the freedom and liberation that were affecting its citizens. The grip of power was loosening among the population, and this effect rippled across the universe, changing lives and altering futures.
Outside, the stars continued to burst and incinerate, giving and taking lives in a natural state. Even the supernovas that exploded in their eyes had to change. A symphony of life echoed from every corner, every nook and cranny of the universe.
Outside, nothing was ever the same.
And yet, from here, everything seemed consistent.
They sat underneath the dim lights that swathed their bodies in a gentle glow. And the brilliance from outside bathed their forms in a faint shine.
"Do you," Lance started, effectively breaking the silence, "do you think you'll miss this?" He leaned forward, pulling in his legs and resting his chin on his knees, eyes never leaving the swirling galaxies and feathering stars. Keith mirrored the move, tasting the answer on the tip of his tongue.
"Yeah," his voice came out gruff, almost raw, "We both entered the Garrison for a reason. To see what's out there."
Lance huffed a laugh, "But now that you know, would you go back and redo this—all of this—over again? Just skim the surface of the atmosphere and leave the fighting to someone else?" His tone was one of bitterness underneath his wistful sigh.
He hummed, running the question through his head, "I...don't think so. I think, without us, everything would have been different. Maybe things would have been better with someone else, maybe worse. But that doesn't matter cause everything that's happened has already happened."
"Any regrets?" The question was sudden, immediate.
Keith thought back, chewing on his bottom lip as he flipped through his memories. Did he regret dropping the Garrison? Saving Shiro? Becoming the red paladin? There wasn't anything he really lamented for, except—
"There is one thing," he mentioned, turning his head so that his cheek rested against his knees. Lance did the same, finally turning away to face him, eyes boring into his. "But I can't seem to remember it. It's there, but—" He paused, unsure how to go on. Lance only hummed, his gaze unfaltering as he watched Keith struggle to answer.
With a sigh, he suddenly spoke, relieving Keith of an answer.
"Hey, I say 'Vol', you say 'tron'. Vol..." his voice trailed off expectantly. Keith lifted his head and their eyes met. His blue crinkled with a smile as they met wide, violet, eyes caught off guard by the sudden statement.
"Wha—I don't—" he spluttered. Lance's grin only grew, and he relaxed his position, slumping back onto the palms of his hands, a brow cocked in amusement.
"The instructions are explicit. It's in the chant," he pushed himself off his hands and leaned in close, rapping his knuckles lightly against Keith's forehead. "Keep up, mullet."
Instinctively, he curled back, a scowl plain on his face. It didn't hurt, but still.
"Vol—tron?" he responded, tilting his head. Lance only sighed, shrugging his shoulders towards an imaginary audience. Instead of getting impatient, he leaned in again, this time, closer than he had before.
"I say 'Vol', you say 'tron'. Vol..." The smile had softened, just a curl at the end of his lips, and his eyes were impossibly fond as he gazed at Keith. His heartbeat quickened in pace, and he stopped himself from moving back. Rather, he moved forward until they were only a breath away.
"Voltron," he whispered. The blue in Lance's eyes shone brightly as they burned in the dim lighting, and just from the reflection, it seemed as if they held all the stars in the universe, swimming in a stunning, blue ocean. Keith could see his face reflected in those eyes, and he was mildly surprised to see the tracks that lined down his face.
"Vol," Lance repeated, this time softer, as if he were whispering a secret only for his ears, and Keith felt a warmth in his hands, in his chest, on his cheeks as the blue paladin's palm cradled their hands to his chest. Faintly, he registered the slow beat of his heart against the back of his hand and swallowed heavily.
"V—Vol—Voltron," he choked, his throat closing up as he felt his chest cave in to the emotions that ran rampant through his veins. He could now feel the wetness escape from the corner of his eyes, traveling down his cheeks until they conglomerated at his chin, where they fell in a slow arrhythmia.
He heaved, curling forward until his forehead collided with Lance's shoulders. Never before had he felt such sadness resonate through his body, flooding his mind with a lightness that weighed heavily on his labored breathing. His body shook, hands fisting into the soft fabric of Lance's shirt, fingers curling desperately as he held on for dear life.
Through his own heaving sobs and choking breaths, he could faintly hear Lance's voice, soothing and calm, laced with melancholy, as he gently rubbed Keith's back.
"It's all gonna be all right. It's ok. It'll be ok..." And though he knew things wouldn't be all right, he allowed himself in that one moment to be soothed, for from somewhere deep within, he knew it would be the last time. Lance pulled him closer in, leaning his cheek against his forehead, and he moved to cup the back of his neck. Then he started to pat the back of his head, smoothing down the inky strands in a slow rhythm that only made Keith cry harder.
Why this amount of sadness, he wasn't sure, but something nagged the back of his mind, screaming at him to savor the moment. And he did.
Even when the shaking started do subside, his breaths coming out less labored but still uneven, he stayed rooted in Lance's arms, refusing to let go. The other boy said nothing, his mutterings having diminished into a comfortable silence. It left something smoldering in Keith's chest, a warmth that traveled throughout his body in a rush of slow heat.
Gradually, they were left in silence, save for the sniffling that permeated the air in an unsteady staccato. His heart beat fiercely against his chest, trying to slow itself from its racing state just a moment ago. Lance had moved on to rub at his back, the heat from his palm searing him through the thin cotton shirt. He could feel his breath as it feathered through his hair, onto his forehead.
And when he looked up, there was no mocking or teasing in his expression, only one of concern and gentleness. Tenderly, with a little difficulty, Lance reached up to wipe away his tears with the pad of his thumb, the rest of his hand coming to cup his face.
"All right?" he whispered. Keith swallowed, his throat raw, and nodded. He pulled back reluctantly but made sure he was still in contact with the blue paladin. There was something screaming at him to just stay, to just be there with him.
With a light pat, Lance made to stand, hands never leaving Keith as he pulled him up. Both hands on his shoulders, he leaned down just a little and stared into his face. That bundle of emotions started to swell again, and another lone tear tracked its way down his cheek. Lance wiped it away before it could fall, and he murmured, "Let's go to bed."
Steering him by the shoulders, he led them away from the enormous window, the door hissing as it closed behind them. The corridors were still dark, barely lit, enough for them to see their footsteps as they trekked towards the hall with their rooms. Their footfalls echoed lightly, and the temperature seemed to fall minutely but enough for goosebumps to erupt on his forearms.
Finally they stopped, Lance keeping him in position as he paused in front of the door to Keith's room. He released him, turning him so that they now stood face to face. Keith rubbed his arms, unable to warm them up with his frozen fingers.
With a quirk of his lip, Lance shrugged his jacket off and draped it over his smaller frame with a flourish. The warmth was immediate, settling on his skin and comforting the unease that rattled his chest.
"Get some rest," he muttered. Then he pivoted on his heel, making his way further down the hall. Before he could stop himself, Keith blurted out, "Where are you going?"
Lance paused, and then he turned to face him. He shrugged and shoved his hands into his pockets.
"I think it's time for me to go home." And with a small smile, he mouthed out a message that had Keith stumbling after him.
And he turned away. The hall in front of him started to glow, turning brighter and brighter until Keith couldn't take it, and he cried out Lance's name, watching his silhouette grow fainter and fainter until the light became blinding.
And then everything went dark.
--
He woke with a start, chest heaving as he pushed himself up. There was a wetness that clung to his cheeks—to his face, and he noticed the tears that had blotted his sheets, turning them a shade darker than the white he was accustomed to. He sat up, leaning back until he hit the wall.
He tilted his head back, feeling it thump against the surface, and gritted his teeth. There was a dull pain that ached in his chest and resonated through his body. Without even noticing, his hands had clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms.
Swallowing heavily, he brought them both up to his mouth, hoping to muffle the wounded cries that seemed to originate from the cavity of his chest. When that didn't work, he curled forward, gripping them over his heart.
It hurt.
It squeezed every semblance of breath out of his lungs, rendering him helpless and lost. He could still hear it—the fire of lasers all around him. The blasts that followed. The cries of his teammates as they fought the massive galra fleet. The crash of metal against metal as the blue lion shoved his away. The desperate cry of Lance's final "GO" before the ion cannon shot its fatal blast.
And then the sound of ringing.
Then silence.
He remembered it—remembered it all. Remembered landing. Remembered burning lungs and labored breathing as he raced towards the unresponsive blue lion. Remembered Shiro shoving him back, trying to keep him from seeing the damage. Remembered blood—oh, there was so much blood—as it tinged the air with copper.
Remembered seeing the unresponsive blue paladin.
Remembered seeing his oceanic blue eyes devoid of life.
Keith slammed his head against the wall, trying to erase the image from mind. The dream from before only escalated his twinge of pain, and he yelled into his curled form. The final image of Lance wouldn't be his lifeless form. He refused to allow that to be his final goodbye.
No, it'd be the one from his dream, the one who turned towards him, the one with fond eyes and a beautiful smile.
The hero who had gone home.
"Goodbye, Keith."