Word Count: 4.4k +
Pairing: Lance McClain x Keith Kogane
Summary: It’s the summer before Junior Year. Lance McClain is sixteen, and when he isn’t Skype-ing Hunk at Robotics Camp, he’s writhing in agony over a soul tattoo he’s never really been fond of. He longs for the day that it will stop…until it does. Lance struggles to accept who fate has chosen for him, grappling with his own expectations and hopes for love.
Author's Note: Here it is! The long awaited climax of the fourth arc!!! I cannot believe how long it took to get us here, but I am also so happy with how this turned out. I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and the ones that remain!
Chapter 32: It’s Your Turn
Lance came upon his door, listening for the receding footsteps of those just called away to dinner. He quieted his breathing as he took vague assumptions at who crossed his bedroom to descend the stairs. One set of heavy steps, two sets of lighter ones. Then, a fourth set that sounded like they were dragging along the carpet. He exhaled the air he was holding in, knowing that this might be his only chance to recover what he’d lost. Lance cracked open his bedroom door and let the scent of dinner waft up his nose. His mom’s signature dish–the one she always bragged about cooking for Gordon Ramsey if she ever decided to go on Master Chef. It was reserved for special occasions, and it was a special occasion. Grandma Catalina had finished her physical therapy and they would be starting the process of moving her back to her home.
But Lance knew that her leaving wouldn’t fix anything–just like removing a tumor didn’t erase the fear and pain inflicted on the sufferer. His mom would continue not to trust him, his father would act like Lance needed to grow up. Aunt Amillia Rose would stand aside. His older brother might shake his head, and worse still, Blake might share with him a guilt-ridden glance. So here he was, making the ten foot distance to his parent’s room as soundless as possible, retrieving the last thing able to provide him any comfort in this house of horrors.
He opened his parent’s bedroom door slowly, as any sharp movement would make it groan in pain. He tiptoed in, eyes scanning the darkness for a good hiding spot. His first thought was underneath their bed, but all that was hidden underneath were laundry baskets and organizers full of sheets and pillowcases. Next, their closet, which he rifled through the cubbies of. Coming up with nothing, he shook his head before his eyes settled on the large TV in their room. Between the top of his father’s dresser and the bottom of the screen, there was something large tucked away out of sight. Lance peeked behind the TV and there sat Tracey’s old CD player. When he pressed the release mechanism on top of the CD tray, he sighed with relief. The CD Keith gave him was still inside. Lance picked it out carefully and closed the CD player quickly. When he turned towards the door, however, the light turned on.
Lance stopped dead in his tracks and when his eyes adjusted he saw his dad standing in the doorway.
“You can keep it,” Lance gestured to the CD player with his temple. He held the CD gently in his hand as he moved towards the door.
Cedro put out a hand to stop him. “Why’s it so important?” He asked, grabbing Lance by the arm.
“It’s not,” Lance answers as he takes his arm back, shooting Cedro a look as he does.
His father seems to narrow his eyes–not in anger, but in curiosity. Lance tries once more to escape but his father blocks the door with his body.
“Lance, why did you ask me that question last summer?”
The question sends him reeling, but on the outside, he keeps a cool head. He just shrugs, looking as exasperated as he feels. “I don’t remember, what was the question?”
If he knows Lance is lying, he doesn’t show it. Cedro doesn’t repeat the question. Instead, he searches Lance’s eyes, one by one. “I didn’t tell your mom what you asked.”
“Okay,” is all Lance can think of to say. Because he knows that this is the truth. Or most of it is. His mom mentioned something about his dad telling her to lay off of him. The reason why was left up to her interpretation.
“If there’s something going on, you can tell me and it will stay between us.”
That was a lie–he knew it was. Because his father would never, could never, keep something like this from his wife. So Lance let his half-lidded eyes, full of boredom and resentment, glower at Cedro. “There’s nothing to tell.”
Cedro doesn’t budge from the doorway.
Suddenly, there is a fury unlike any he’s ever experienced rising in his chest, taking root in his stomach. He just wants to leave. He wants to run to his room and hide beneath his blanket and never come out. But he has to stay here and play pretend with his father until he gives up. But pretending is exhausting, so he glares at him. “I’m tired of everyone thinking I’m the problem. Maybe it’s the awful old lady we let stay here that’s turning us against each other.”
Cedro shakes his head, taking his anger in stride. “She’s not doing that, Lance.” His calm is infuriating–his soothing voice grating against his ears.
He huffs, “You didn’t start thinking I was a liar until she called me one.”
Cedro shakes his head, but he doesn’t argue. Lance takes his silence as confirmation that he is correct–that there is nothing he can say to refute it. So, he pushes through Cedro and makes the way to his bedroom. But, before he can make it, he catches his mom standing beside the top of the stairs, no doubt catching every word of their exchange. He looks her over, silently asking if she had anything to add.
Her voice is just as calm, and therefore just as disgusting. “We’re having a family meeting tonight. After dinner.”
Lance makes no moves to join them downstairs, instead he turns towards his bedroom. “I’ll be in my cell, then.”
If she says anything afterwards he doesn’t hear it, because the sound of him slamming his door is all his mind processes.
Angella sits at the table, waiting for Blake and Tracey to take their seats at the dining table. Nino and Amada have finished their night routine and have gone to bed. Grandma Catalina has done the same, desperate for some rest after another disappointing dinner. Cedro sits beside her, holding her hand beneath the table. This show of comfort is all he has been able to give her as the last few months brought with it a grueling test. She closes her eyes for a second as Tracey gives her a kiss on the cheek and the meeting commences once Blake takes his place between Tracey and Amillia Rose.
“Something is going on with Lance,” Angella says over the growing silence at the table. “I need you all to tell me what you know.”
Tracey gives her a look, “Nothing? Isn’t that why he’s grounded?”
Angella shakes her head. “Look–something is going on and he’s not talking–but there’s got to be something we missed.” She looks around the table, “Can you think of anything that might be bothering him?”
Her eyes settle on everyone at the table, one at a time, looking for any indication that they have something to say. Amillia Rose clasps her hands together, eyes downcast. Blake is fiddling with his thumbs, glancing nervously up at her. She raises an eyebrow at him, and he swallows anxiously.
“Blake?” She prompts him to speak up.
He gives a small look towards Tracey, who meets his gaze with just as much curiosity as the rest of them.
“It’s my fault,” Blake says quietly, his face tinged with guilt.
For a moment, she doesn’t know if she heard him correctly, “What?”
Blake looks again at Tracey, “We uh, I told him something a while back and he’s been keeping it from everyone for me.” Blake says, the words falling from his lips despite his brain’s obvious refusal.
“Was it about your fight?” Tracey asks.
Blake looks at him, and shakes his head. Tracey seems to search his face for the answers, and when he finds them his mouth drops. Then, like he remembers everyone’s eyes are on them, he fixes his eyes to an unseen object and stares. His hands lie straight on the table, as if all animation has left him. It's a familiar sight for Angella. And just like all those years ago, her confusion is immeasurable at what could have possibly stupified her eldest son.
“What secret?” Angella asks Blake, bewildered.
Tracey shoots a look at Blake, and in response, Blake shakes his head. “It’s not important.”
Angella is about to press harder for details when Amillia Rose speaks.
“I…I also told him something I wanted to keep secret. It’s been weighing on him, I think.” Her eyes are still focused on her clasped hands, blinking slowly.
“What secret?” Angella repeats.
Cedro tightens his grip on her hand. “Honey, maybe we should leave it at that. We know why he’s been lying now.”
Angella shakes her head, tossing away his hand. “No. I want all of you to tell me what’s going on right this second.” She rises from the table, pressing her hands to the smooth finish. “Your secrets are hurting my son, so I want to know what they are.”
Blake looks at Tracey, as if to ask something and Tracey sighs.
“Mom, we’ve got something to tell you,” Tracey says, like he’s about to tell her he broke something.
Angella sits, her hand on Cedro’s once more, terrified of what will come out of his mouth.
“Blake might be my soulmate,” Tracey admits, “He told me a little while ago.”
“I wasn’t sure if we were, but when I told Lance he made me tell Tracey,” Blake confessed quickly, like he wasn’t sure he’d get the chance to come clean.
Tracey kicked him underneath the table, “You shouldn’t have needed telling.”
Angella blinks at the news, her mouth slowly falling in shock.
“I didn’t know what else to do,” Tracey admits, “so I came home.”
His words swam around in the back of her eyes and tears threatened to fall. She sniffed, trying to put aside her feelings and focus on the family meeting. But there was so much to dissect with just this secret. Once again, Tracey might have found his soulmate. It was as if his teenage years were upon them once more. She could still hear their last argument slam against the walls of her mind. She wanted to ask a hundred questions–needed to ask a hundred more. But, then she recalled their conversation on New Years. How he hated her questions and felt as though his tattoo were a curse. So, when he looked for her response, terrified of what questions she might spray at him, she simply nodded.
“Thank you for telling me,” she smiled through the tears in her eyes.
The relief on her son’s face was all she needed to know that she had done right. Cedro opened his mouth to congratulate them, but he stopped when Angella put a hand to his shoulder.
“And you?” Angella said, eyeing up Amillia Rose.
She swallowed hard. “It was just after Lance started school last year. He told me…uh, I told him something about Uncle Mickey and me.”
When Angella kept staring at her, she knew she had to go on, but fear held her voice in her throat.
“Amillia Rose,” Angella prompted, “please.”
She closed her eyes, trying to let her courage shine through. When it did, she glanced Angella’s way. “I told him Uncle Mickey and I aren’t soulmates.”
The collective gasp that rang through the room was enough to send shockwaves down the street.
“What are you talking about?” Tracey asked, throwing his head out so he could look at her without Blake’s fat head in the way. “He didn’t say–
“Tracey,” Angella shushed him with a look. Her eyes went to Amillia Rose. She tried to look at her with kind eyes–ones that empathized with her–but she knew she couldn’t maintain the lie for long. The feeling that meandered through her, tugging at her stomach and ripping her heart to shreds, was determined to make her mask fall to pieces. How could she pretend to be okay with something so terrible?
No good could come from ignoring a soul tattoo. It left four partners without their match. How could she choose to live like that? How could she doom her soulmate to a life without her? And Amada–would she ever come to know that she was conceived in such disregard of fate?
“Why would you tell him that?” Angella asked, trying to hide the betrayal in her voice–she failed.
Amillia Rose shook her head, like somehow, whatever she was going to say was worse than what she already admitted.
“Honey,” Cedro attempted to soothe her by grabbing her hand.
“Cedro, unless you’re going to tell me what happened last summer, don’t talk to me.”
Silence fell about the room again as they all awaited his secret.
Cedro cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the subject matter. He knew he was caught–Angella overheard his conversation with Lance. There was no choice but to come clean. For a moment, his hesitation outgrew her patience and she pushed herself up from the table again.
“Why aren’t you telling me!?”
For a moment, Cedro’s eyes fell on Tracey and Blake, then went to Amillia Rose. What look were they exchanging? What did they all know that she didn’t?
“Lance had a fight with Keith,” Cedro said just before Angella blew her lid.
Tracey nodded, “Yeah, it was probably about what Blake told him,” he pointed his thumb at Blake, who recoiled from the blame. “He said they shouldn’t be friends.”
Blake chimed in, throwing his hands out in defense of himself, “Oh, yeah, no, that’s not–
“Why shouldn’t they be friends?” Angella asked, incredulously.
“I mean, I said that, but–
Suddenly, Cedro stood up from the table, startling Angella for a second. She looked him up and down, noting that his expression had fallen somewhere between shock and bewilderment. His face became ghostly white.
“Cedro?” Angella asked, putting a hand to his shoulder. “What is it?”
He shook his head, “You should talk to Lance.”
Lance sat on the floor of his bedroom, spinning the CD case back and forth in his hands. He tried to listen for the faint music playing in his head, singing along to imaginary lyrics so he could keep time. There was nothing to do tonight but sit around and wait for the weekend to be over. His stomach growled, angry that he hadn’t eaten a bite since breakfast. Better to starve than see the judgmental faces of his family.
Then, Lance heard a small knock on his door. He didn’t get up, didn’t ask who it was. He just sat there in silence, hoping they would go away if they thought he was sleeping.
“Lance,” his mother’s voice called through the door, “can we talk?”
Her tone sounded sympathetic and it almost made Lance run to the door. But there was no way she’d be extending him an olive branch–not now. She was probably trying to trick him into feeling bad for her. That she had to punish him because he was caught lying. But…the plea was too innocent on his mother’s part. Perhaps he was confusing her with someone he’d never actually met. Maybe he was thinking the worst of her because that was what his anger wanted him to think. So he crept towards the door and opened it.
He didn’t get a look at her face, only turned away and went back to what he was doing. Angella stepped quietly around the bed and sat beside him, watching as he rotated the CD case once more.
“Where did you get that?” She asked. The question wasn’t accusatory, nor was she digging for information. It was simply an acknowledgement that she didn’t know where it had come from.
“It was a gift,” Lance says, and he wonders if she thinks he is lying again. He tries to find comfort in the fact that, since he’s been grounded for lying, he hasn’t lied to her once. Though, if he asked her, she might argue that lies of omission were lies just the same. So he continued spinning.
Angella nods, taking his answer at face value. She changes the subject entirely. “I had a nice long talk with everyone downstairs.”
“What did they say?” Lance asks–his tone a mixture of disinterest and anger. Though, in truth, he couldn’t have been more worried over her answer. In the time he’d been up here stewing, he was terrified that Blake and Aunt Amillia Rose’s guilt would get to them. That they would cave under the slightest pressure.
“They told me you were keeping their secrets–and what those secrets were.”
Lance looks her way, measuring the look of her. The red eyes, the heavy weight to her shoulders. What she is saying could very well be true. “So you know about them then,” he prompted, fishing for more information just in case.
She nods. “I never would have guessed–about either of them, really. But a lot of things started clicking once they told me. I asked Amillia Rose once about all the popsicles if she and Mickey were so close, but she waved me off. And Blake? That’s who the universe chose for Tracey?”
Lance feels a laugh bubble up to the surface, but he coughs. “There’s still a chance they aren’t.”
Angella shook her head, like she was almost hopeful. “Let’s hope. I mean, I love the kid, but show up on time.”
“And Aunt Amillia Rose?” Lance asks.
Angella’s face falls, but returns after a few seconds. “It was a lot to take in–I’m not sure how you kept it a secret for so long.”
“Did they say anything about me?” Lance asks, steeling himself for the answer.
When she shakes her head, Lance nearly collapses from relief. She studies him, terrified to ask the question on her mind. He wonders how long it will be until she gets to the root of why she’s here. Lance knows that it cannot be to commiserate about the family.
“They didn’t tell me anything,” Angella admits. “But they all know, right?”
Lance can feel his throat start to strain, terrified of what he might reveal if she keeps asking the right questions. He shrugs because he isn’t sure what they all know after their little show and tell. He’s not even completely sure what his mother knows.
“Is there a reason I can’t know?”
He can feel his floodgates crumbling at the heartbreak in her voice. He wants so badly to answer her, to say that there was no reason she couldn’t know. But to come out and say it would take a terrible hit to his pride. How could he fold with such little provocation? This was his most important secret. The one that he lied to everyone to keep–the one that he needed to reveal himself when the time was right.
She sniffs, but tries to keep her voice from shaking. “I want to understand, honey. They put so much on your shoulders–but their soul bonds aren’t your responsibility. You shouldn’t have been expected to carry all that.”
Lance feels the tears sting his eyes, and he focuses on the title of the CD, trying his best to see the obscured text through blurry vision.
“Did you feel like you had to? Because you didn’t. Those kinds of things, they’re for the whole family to deal with–not just you.”
The ache in his heart, the pit in his stomach, everything inside him is breaking. All of her assurances, her soft voice, it is all he’s wanted to hear. That there was a lot thrust upon him, that he couldn’t handle it alone.
“Why were you keeping their secrets, honey?”
The question comes so softly, Lance can’t help but answer. “Because they were keeping mine,” he says, tears spilling over onto his cheeks.
“What’s your secret, baby?” Angella asks as she pulls him into a hug.
Lance feels his tears dampening her skin, her shirt’s collar, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he buries his face in her shoulder and tries to remember how to speak. The words get caught around the lump in his throat, so for a while, all he is able to get out are choked sobs. But, eventually, Lance takes a deep breath, and on his exhale, he tells her what he should have told her somewhere between now and when she introduced them to the Koganes.
“Keith is my soulmate,” he whispers against her chest.
A few seconds pass as the news sinks into her skin. She hasn’t gone rigid beneath him, hell she hugs him tighter. When she pulls away, she wipes a tear from his cheek and ruffles his hair.
“Is that it?” She says with a small teary-eyed chuckle. “All this because you met your soulmate?”
Lance shakes his head, “It was all wrong–it was nothing like you and dad. We were just two kids who slammed into each other.”
Angella grabs Lance by the shoulders, lowering her gaze so that their eyes meet. “Lance, your father and I were just two kids who slammed into each other.”
“But you had this instant connection–dad said he felt like the waves were singing to him.”
“The only connection we had was our tattoos, baby. The rest was up to us.”
Lance sniffs, “What?”
“No soul bond is perfect,” she says with a smile. “It’s work. Hard work. Your father and I chose to make things work–even when,” she trailed off for a second, “other people didn’t think we could.”
Lance took in her words, but he knew from experience that she was right. Once he got over the shock of it, Keith being his soulmate grew on him. The more he learned about him the more he wanted to learn about him. And the more he was around him the more he craved his presence. To the point that when he had him, all he wanted was to lessen the distance between them.
“I’m sorry,” she says, holding Lance close to her again. “I should have asked you what was wrong the second you started acting off. I just didn’t want to assume you couldn’t figure stuff out on your own. My mom always tried to make my choices for me.”
“She did?”
Angella nodded, “Yeah. Where I should go to school, where I should work, where I should live,” she listed a few, though Lance had a feeling she could go on. “As strong as you are, you shouldn’t have had to figure all this out alone. I should have been there.”
Lance shrugs, “I wasn’t really alone, I had him.”
She smiles. “You do, and you always will.”
The thought cheers Lance up, and his mother catches this. He clears his throat, embarrassed. “You’ll be there for Nino.”
“And if I mess up again, you’ll help me out?”
Lance nods, “Me and Tracey. And your son in law, Blake.”
Angella groans, pulling Lance into another hug, hoping to silence him. She takes a greedy sniff of his hair, and exhales. “You know, in hindsight, I should have known he was your soulmate.”
Lance looks up at her, catching only the side of her head. “Why?”
“You never made fun of his mullet once.”
Lance lets the laughter come easy, appreciating that he still has the capacity. “Not out loud,” he admitted.
The next two hours are spent in Lance’s room as he mindfully sifts through all the details of his life these last two years. He tells her how he and Keith met, how awkward their “first meeting” was, how mean he was to him at school, the urges he felt to help Keith, the sensations in his tattoo. He told her how he came to know of Aunt Amillia Rose’s secret–how he came to know Blake’s. How knowing about Uncle Mickey and Amada did nothing to change his mind about them. When he approached the time period that Grandma Catalina showed up, he admitted that he did come home drunk from Jake’s party. His mother confessed that she had her first cigarette because Grandma Catalina always accused her of smoking. Though, she was quick to remind Lance that she would kill him if she ever caught even a whiff of ash off him.
When they emerge from Lance’s room and go downstairs, they find everyone still at the table, chatting amongst themselves. Angella looks at them, though their unfinished conversation is hanging in the air. In the time it took her to learn the truth from Lance, it appears that they have put it together themselves. She gives Lance a small shove forward and smiles.
“Lance is no longer grounded,” she announces.
The question no one is asking hangs in the air.
“So it’s true?” Cedro asks, his eyes welling with excitement.
Lance looks at Angella and they both smile. “Keith is my soulmate, dad.”
The cheers that rise up are enough to wake the entire family, because soon Nino and Amada are running downstairs. Grandma Catalina even shuffles out of her room, wondering where the fire is. But Angella tells them of Lance’s news.
“And you’re okay with that?” Grandma Catalina asks, her frustration evident in her tone. “That his soulmate drinks and gets grounded right along with him?”
Angella looks down at her, “Mom, I’m proud of Lance and who he loves. That’s something I always wanted for you and me, but if you can’t give me that, at least give it to him.”
Lance watches as Grandma Catalina opens her mouth to argue, but concedes relatively quickly. What could have made the fight go out of her, he’d never know, but he was glad it did. He was even more glad that his mother was so ready to defend Keith. For whatever reason, Grandma Catalina decides to bless everyone with one of her favorite midnight snacks, though Lance senses that it is an apology of sorts. After she hands him a steaming cup, and their eyes meet, he can tell a wordless exchange is taking place. He just doesn’t know the subject matter yet.
Before the end of the night, Cedro puts Lance’s phone into his hand.
“Tell him we’re happy to have him,” Cedro smiles and rejoins the cluster of McClaines crowded in the living room.
Lance turns on his phone. He knows that it's the middle of the night, but he holds out hope that Keith is still awake. The first chance he gets he opens their text chat–not their snapchat where everything is set to disappear after twenty-four hours–the one they use to talk about anything but their soulbond. He types out his first message in over a month, almost baffled by its brevity. But when he hits send, he feels this immense pressure fall from his shoulders. In its wake, he’s hit with a wave of something he hasn’t felt in a long time: hope.
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