The medical bay was too bright, too clean, too calm. It felt wrong.
Keith lay on the bed, armor peeled back where the burns had scorched through. His skin was pale, his breaths shallow. Machines hummed around him, monitors flashing steady lines that Lance couldn't tear his eyes away from...because if they stopped, if they faltered....
"His vitals are weak but stable," Coran said gently, adjusting the scanner. "He'll just need some time to recover."
Shiro stood nearby, composed as always, though the tightness in his jaw gave him away. "How long?"
"Hours. Maybe longer."
The words should've comforted Lance. Stable.. meant safe. But all he could see was Keith's still face, all sharp edges softened by unconsciousness. Too still. Too quiet.
Lance's hands curled into fists at his sides. He felt heat building behind his eyes, his chest rising and falling too fast.
"Lance," Shiro said softly, stepping closer. "He's going to be okay."
"No, you don't get it!" Lance snapped, louder than he meant to. The words came spilling out before he could stop them. "I left him. I told him not to move, I told him I'd be right back, and then-then I came back and he was..." His voice broke. He turned away, dragging a shaky hand down his face.
Shiro's expression softened, but he didn't interrupt.
"I should've stayed!" Lance shouted, his throat raw. "I should've been there. If I hadn't ran off! If I hadn't left him alone..."
The thought twisted like a knife in his chest, sharper than anything the Galra had ever done to him.
He felt a hand on his shoulder—Shiro's, steady and grounding. "You can't blame yourself for this. You did the right thing calling for help."
Lance laughed bitterly, shaking his head. He pulled away from Shiro. "The right thing almost got him killed!"
The room went quiet, the machines humming their steady rhythm. Lance stared at Keith, the words he'd never said pressing heavy on his tongue.
"Don't do this to me, mullet..." he murmured under his breath, voice trembling. "Don't make me realize how much I..how much you mean to me...only to…" His words faded, swallowed by the lump in his throat.
He dropped into the chair beside the bed, burying his face in his hands. For the first time in a long time, Lance didn't care if anyone saw him crack.
Because if Keith didn't wake up, none of his walls would matter anymore.