Keith has managed to avoid Lance for the past 24 hours, get a good meal, and shower. So he thinks he's doing fairly well. That is until he enters creative writing class.

"Ok, everyone settle down." Coran calls to his class as Keith takes his seat next to Allura and gets out his laptop, "If you'll recall, I asked you to think about a three word prompt about two opposing things and explain how they are the same. This is your first assignment, so I don't expect any shakespearian feats, but I would appreciate your best effort. I will collect what you have at the end of class. You have an hour and a half starting now."

The clicking of keys seems to fill the room instantly, leaving Keith alone in his bubble of confused silence. He opens a word document and stares at the blinking cursor. Nothing. He's got nothing.

He looks away from the screen and focuses on a chip in the plaster of a wall at the front of the room. He decides to let his mind wander.

At first he tries to steer it away from Lance, but it soon becomes obvious that his mind has a plan and intends to stick to it. So, Lance it is then. The boy of oceans and ice, cool, collected, playful, powerful. Sounds about right.

He types out one word: Ice.

But what's the opposite? He leans back in his chair, tapping on the desk until Allura sends him a look. He pretends he disnt see it, but stops anyway. Fire, of course.

The document now has all three prompt words: Ice and Fire

Now, what to write. He hunched over in his chair, eyes much too close to the screen, as though he was trying to get the assignment to write itself. Finally, he begins to type.

You can tell a lot about someone from their eyes. Not the color, or the shape, but the little things that settle there as memories of who they are. The smile lines from happier times, the way they sometimes sag from a sadness that has leaked out of their soul. It's the smudged makeup, the oddly placed freckle, the shadows underneath that tell the story of their life.

But it's not until you've looked into someone's eyes, really looked into them, that you know their soul.

The first time I looked into their eyes it was like staring out a window somewhere high above the sea and watching the waves roil beneath me. It was the feeling of storm clouds in the distance and the fear and exhilaration that impales the heart when its shadow passes over.

And in that moment, I was fire.

I was a candle thrown on a bonfire of driftwood, my tendrils whipped to and fro by the wind. I was beaten back by the sea spray, an inferno that stood like nothing against the immense ocean. Nothing.

That fire burned within me, and I know, had they looked into my eyes they would have felt it's heat.

The second time I looked into their eyes, they were ice. The frigid, unforgiving shards, the chill of a broken promise, the clearness of a lake's glass surface, made solid from lack of warmth. They were a thousand things at once, snowflakes, hailstorm, and the might of glaciers, shaping the very land it marches over. Indifferent, nigh on numb, cold.

And I?

I was fire.

I was an entire forest up in flames. My path marred by the skeletons of yesterday. The smoke choking out the sun so that the only light came from the flames as they storm through, consuming, burning, destroying. And melting the ice back to rain.

I now realize that were weren't so different. We balanced in an eternal dance between the gift of creation, and the tax of destruction, both building worlds, and thoughts, and words, that we believed could exist quite separately. But we were wrong.

Fire and ice.

Ice and fire.

A pairing so odd, so ludicrous, that it is believed they are impossible. A candle is not lit on the waves, and a glacier must yield to a wildfire. It is the way things are.

But when I look into their eyes. Really look. I see myself staring back.

And though they may melt, and I turn to ash. From this is life born.

And I realize, quite suddenly, that we are the same.

He leans back in his chair again. Resting his hands and watching the time tick down. A few others were done also, checking their phones and fiddling with whatever was closest. Finally Coran stands.

"Okay everyone, that's time." he claps his hands cheerfully," I need you all to submit that to my email. Just copy and paste please, no strange attachments. The subject is 3 word prompt and be sure to add your first and last name at the top. Have a good day."

The students begin to file past and Keith's eyes stay locked on his cursor, still blinking at the bottom of the page, waiting for whatever's next.

He sighs and pastes it into an email, pushing send before he can second guess himself. He shuts the laptop unceremoniously and tucks it back into his bag, now the only student left in the room. He throws his bag over his shoulder and begins to make for the exit, dodging chairs left untucked by the other students.

"Oh, Keith!" Coran calls to him, leaning against the front of his desk, "Could I have a word?"

Keith hides an exasperated sigh and nods, steering himself away from the exit. He makes his way down the aisle, feet dragging just the slightest bit.

"Yes, professor?" He asks with a false enthusiasm.

"Are you doing ok?" Coran questions, shuffling a stack of papers and binding them with a clip, "You seem a bit out of sorts. Has something happened?"

"Uh, no." Keith mutters, "I just haven't slept well. I'm fine, really."

Coran nods, not looking as though he completely believes Keith's explaination.

"Alright, but you can tell me if something is wrong. Its my job to educate and care for my students, and I don't want to put anything extra on your plate of something is going on."

"Really, it's fine." Keith assures, adjusting his bag, "But thank you for your concern. I'll be sure to get more rest."

"See that you do." Coran smiles, turning back to his papers.

Keith takes this as his cue to leave and makes his way quickly up the aisle. He emerges into the hallway and sighs, exhaling a breath he didn't even know he had been holding. He closes his eyes and leans against the wall for a second. Appreciating the cool concrete against his once again pounding head.

"Oh there you are." an all too familiar voice says to his left, "Allura said I could find you here, but I thought I was late."

Keith narrowly avoids groaning in protest against the universe, but instead he calmly opens his eyes, meeting those of Lance.

"Whoah dude," Lance continues, shifting the textbook in his hands, "You don't look so good. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm-" Keith thinks for a second to find the least suspicious words, "Just tired, and got one hell of a headache. But I'm fine."

Lance doesn't answer, his brow furrowing in worry. He looks down at his feet, then back up at Keith.

"Do you-" Lance starts, "Would you-" he sighs and tries again, "Can we talk?"

"Yeah, sure." Keith pushes off the wall, following Lance down the hallway.

Externally, he's keeping it together pretty well, but internally? He's a panicking mess. Their footsteps echo off the mostly empty hallway, a few students clustered every few yards.

Lance turns off into a deserted classroom, shutting the door behind them. Keith looks around, it's lit by large windows lining the back wall, row upon row of empty desks stand collecting dust and the chairs remain stacked in the corner.

"How'd you find this place?" Keith asks in bewilderment.

"I didn't." Lance answers, taking a seat on top of one of the desks and letting his feet swing, "Matt did. It only has classes during spring semester. Its some sort of philosophy class."

"Good find." Keith sits on the desk opposite Lance so they face each other, their feet swinging between them.

"Yeah." lance looks down, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, "I, um, want to apologize."

He clears his throat and looks Keith in the eye, pinning the other boy to the spot with his gaze, but remaining oblivious to his effect.

"I'm sorry about Saturday, that wasn't cool of me. I shouldnt have reacted that way-"

"Its fine Lance, you don't have to-" Keith rushed to stop him.

"No, no, I need to say this." Lance's gaze grows stronger, more determined, "I shouldn't have reacted that way. I know how it feels to be...hiding a piece of who you are. Its scary, and stressful, and you feel like everything could come crashing down if you let it slip. And that's part of why I need to apologize. I had no right to react so, brashly. I wasn't considering how terrifying it must have been for you, hell, it was terrifying for me."

Keith freezes, his heart racing.

"I'm bi, and when I came out to my family, God, I was so scared."

Keith freezes like a deer in the headlights. A thousand thoughts run through his head, a million questions.
The main one just being an endless stream of ?????????????

"Oh." Keith mutters quietly.

Lance smiles and snorts at Keith's reaction, "Yeah, surprise, surprise." He does an unenthusiastic jazz hands and smiles weakly at Keith, guilt evident in his eyes.

"So..." lance trails, swinging his feet again and making a loose bolt on the desk creak, "Are we good?"

"Yeah." Keith cracks a grin, a real grin, for what feels like the first time in years. "We're good."

A bit of the weight in his gut seems to lift. It's not everything, but it's a step in the right direction. The monstr still lay coiled around his heart, but, for now at least, it is satiated.

"Good, good." lance nods awkwardly, "What do you say we go get some dinner, yeah?"

"Yeah." Keith agrees.

The two walk out of the room, leaving the dust to swirl around the base of the door as the slight wind stirs up the particles.

"Hey!" a voice shouts at the end of the hallway, foot steps growing louder, "Lance! Keith! Wait up!"

Keith turns around to find a rather disheveled Matt barreling down the hallway towards them, binder swinging in one hand, paper hanging on a whim, and his unzipped backpack in the other.

"Hey." he pants, finally reaching them, "Did you guys hear?"

"Hear about what?" Lance asks, helping him shove the binder into the already full backpack.

"The party!" Matt exclaims, finally able to close the zipper and looking up with a mad gleam in his eyes, "It's going to be wild! Anyone can show up, it'll be crazy!"

"When is it?" lance asks, more than a little intrigued.

"This Friday!" Matt smiles, skipping on ahead of me them and turning to walk backwards, giving Keith more anxiety than he would like to admit, "You guys should totally come. There'll be booze, babes-"

Keith snorts a little, but doesn't interrupt.

"-And of course great music, so what's to lose?"

"Well that's movie night." Lance points out, swinging the door open before Matt can hit it.

"Movie night? You're kidding right?" Matt laughs a little, "it's the biggest party of the year Lance. A bit bigger than movie night."

"We'll think about it." Keith inturrupts, pinching the bridge of his nose in an effort to alleviate his headache, "Thanks Matt, we'll consider going, just-"

He groans a little in pain.

"-just not right now."

"You ok dude?" Matt questions.

"Headache." Lance offers in explaination, pressing the button to activate the crosswalk. Matt ignores the safety procedure and spritnts across the road in his usual fashion. That is, in a very big hurry to get nowhere in particular.