[lαncє]

Lance picked up the makeup brush to his left. Holding the brush steadily, he glanced into the mirror, applying glitter over his cheek bones. The dark blue glitter shimmering over the dim florescent lights of the club's bathroom. Lance trying his best to ignore the graffiti-covered walls and smell of dampened toilet paper. Paying little to no attention to the open stalls, the toilets turning grey from age and use.

The bathroom walls were shiny with grime. The corners of the tiled walls filled with mold. Any cracks in the wall quickly filled in with anything; from chewed gum to clumps of black eyeliner. It made Lance grimace each time he nearly touched the wall. Using an insane amount of hand sanitizer and soap if he touched it (after gaging for several minutes and being traumatized again).

The glitter covered brush then dropped down on his hands and onto the sink he was using to place his things down on. "Fuck." He cursed as the door opened suddenly and his brush fell into the sink. The edges wet and filled with long hair (even though it was the men's bathroom, and he had yet to see any women at this club). Wincing as he looked down at his brush, then at himself, and finally, at the man who opened the door.

The man held a lighter in one hand and in his other was a pack of cigarettes. The lighter obviously old as it's silver color was dulled by fingerprints and old stains.

His hair longer than anyone Lance had ever seen (on a male at least), his raven locks ending right at his shoulders. Creating a messy mullet half of it being held up with a stretched out, blood colored hair tie. The messy pony tail falling looser with each step he took and shaking pieces of hair down. Peacefully letting it fall to his neck and his shirt collar.

Lance, staring at him still, noticed he wore a beat up leather jacket. The black leather clearly fake as it held a speckled grey-brown pattern. Frowning deeply, he decided to confront the man. "Hey, what'd that door ever do to you?" He spat. Lance huffed but felt slightly guilty. He didn't mean to make his voice such a harsh tone.

The man looked him in the eyes. Lance then realized he looked around his age. 19, 20 at most maybe? "Annoyed me." The man spoke to him, making Lance crack a small smile. "Oh really?" Lance shot back. His voice, thankfully, more playful this time. Only then did Lance look at the anonymous man's eyes, gulping as he examined the color. They were beautiful.

Lance couldn't help but compare them to endless pools of the galaxies stars. A pool of purple and blue, joining into a dark color that Lance felt himself get lost in for several seconds. Lance squinted lightly, was that grey he saw? Lance was only pulled back into reality as the stranger started to speak again. "What's your name, glitter face?" Lance cocked an eyebrow and his small smile turned into a frown.

"... Lance." Lance said as he peered down. Under his leather jacket he wore a black shirt. Black jeans completing his "emo" look.

Popping a cigarette in his mouth, he spoke to Lance again. "Keith." Came a muffled reply.

Lance nodded mutely and picked up his brush. The bristles were damp and when the brush had dropped in the sink it left specks of glitter to cover the sides. Sticking to it and making Lance do a small prayer (read: apology) to the janitor. "Mind if I smoke?" Keith questioned as he flicked on his lighter. Lance watched the flames flicker and spit sparks. The blue, orange light of the flame capturing Lance's interest. His eyes lingering, following the flames as they touched the unlit cigarette.

Keith sucked in and then blew out a puff of smoke into Lance's face. Lance coughed and backed away, his back bumping into the sink. "Ew." He murmured to himself. The smoke evaporating in the air quickly. Keith blew out another puff of smoke.

"What brings you here?" Keith avoided using his name. Unsure whether to continue teasing him about the glitter which covered his cheeks and eyelids, or to respect him. Lance didn't notice. "Birthday." Lance's voice was quieter, the Cuban man turning away from Keith and his puffs of cigarette smoke.

Keith took the cigarette out of his mouth. "Well aren't you special, birthday boy." Keith decided to tease before putting the cigarette back in his mouth. Watching the end glow with a ring of orange as he blew into it. Lance felt himself blush. His face heating up from his neck. His blush spreading like a forest fire to his ears and cheeks.

"It's not my birthday, asshat." Lance spat a little harsher than needed. His stomach was knotted. He felt angry, a little confused, but angry. He had no clue why.

Keith's eyes widened for a second. The raven haired 22-year old then rolling his eyes. "Well someone has a potty mouth." He thought aloud. Lance looked at the toilet in the mirrors reflection. "Seems appropriate. Seeing where we are." Lance commented dryly. Keith almost chuckled at the joke(?).

"I could always give you a swirly and see if that would flush away all your bad language?" Keith suggested then quickly adding; "Shame. With all that toilet water, your glitter will come right off." Lance clenched his teeth together. His wet brush being gripped tightly before he turned fiercely. Lance then threw the brush at Keith.

"Woah." Keith laughed with a frown on his face. It was more a defensive laugh than anything.

"I'm going." Lance grumbled. "Need to find my friends and– ugh! Why am I explaining myself to you?!" Lance frustratedly exclaimed. Snatching the brush off the dirty ground and sending Keith a harsh glare. Keith dropped his cigarette on the floor. Smashing the remains of it with the bottom of his boot.

"See you later, ass wagon."

Lance opened the door with little effort. Letting it swing open and hit the wall with a loud slam. "Go to hell." Lance replied as he looked back. Watching as he walked when Keith flipped him off.

"Lance!" A voice called out. Lance sighing and shaking his head fondly as he looked at Hunk– his best friend of (like) a million years. "Hey bud." He spoke. Lance quickly detecting the smell of alcohol on him as Hunk staggered closer. Pidge was behind him, the minor calmly walking up to Lance's side. "Birthday boy here got his drink too strong." Pidge explained briefly. Hunk giggling and quickly quieting so Lance could hear the music playing.

Two thousand years gone by and going strong

The speakers blared. Clicks of glasses filled the air in hushed noises. A few piercing sounds of breaking glasses and shrieks accompanying it.

well never fear my love it won't be long
you say you've had enough, it seems so wrong now it's suicide, oh my love

Lance paused. He heard a different voice than the singer. Pidge had gone off to get Hunk again. Who — when Lance was drifting away and into the music — managed to start twisting tables like toy tops. The voice grew louder and closer. It's honey like melody melting any tension Lance had about what had happened in the bathroom earlier. His eyelids closing for a split second before opening again.

Hands touched Lance's hips, making Lance open his eyes. Biting his lip he decided not to look at whoever was grabbing onto him. A touched whisper singing the lyrics into Lance's ear as they started to rock. Moving their hands and Lance's hips in time with the beat.

and now you know just why I'm here
and now my eyes they see so clear
no fear

Lance hummed along softly and stared at the ceiling. The ceiling was filled with signatures. Small messages and then a name. The most prominent one being: I'm only like this because I'm afraid to get hurt. ~ K.K

Lance swung his hips lightly. His eyes still watching over the thick, black quote. It seemed to be written in sharpie. The black color sticking out like a sore thumb on the green ceiling filled with other quotes (all written in white). "It's nice to see you again, glitter face." A familiar voice spoke to Lance. Lance stopped swaying, feeling Keith slowly remove his hands.

"That the birthday boy?" Keith questioned, still out of Lance's sight as he pointed to Hunk. Lance, seeing where he was pointing, nodded. "Yeah. Now if you excuse me, I'd like to get back to the celebration." Lance spat at him, walking away quickly.

Keith who didn't move closer to him cracked a smile. A small blush tinged his cheeks. The darkened club lights, showing arrays of blue, purple, red, green, and white covered up his blush well. The raven haired man taking one last look at Lance before walking behind the bar counter. Lance glancing back occasionally to see Keith walking away from him — not to the bar itself.

"Long break, Keith?" Shiro said to him as he handed him the bartender apron. Keith shrugged mutely. Shiro had tried to sound stern but, in the end, he sounded genuinely concerned.

"Yo bartender!" Lance hollered, averting Shiro's attention to him and his group. "Two please." He ordered as he held up two fingers. He had yet to notice Keith. Shiro glanced at Keith. "Two tequilas." He stated and gave Keith a playful shove to get him into the mood. Keith rolled his eyes, equally as playful.

Over the hushed voices of the bar, Keith could easily hear Lance's voice.

"Hunk! That lady is not your mom, stop trying to hug her!"