Chapter 23

                                    

                                          
Lance’s chest rose heavily up and down. Up and down. His eardrums throbbed from his uncontrollable pulse. He hadn’t heard from his mother since a year ago, when she called Lance but was abruptly hung up on once he heard his father’s voice. The Cuban had tried to call back several times, only for the call to go straight to voicemail. 
                          
He stares at the phone for a few minutes, contemplating whether this was all an imagination of his. There were already two missed calls from her when Lance decided to answer. A few long seconds went by before hearing a foggy “Hello?”

                          
His heart dropped, trying to spit out the words that were overwhelmingly drowning him. A locked door trying to be forced open. Lance bites his lip nervously before choking out “Mama?”
                          
“Lance! How are you doing son? You’re safe,” the old woman questions in a hurried manner. It was like she was rushing. 

                          
The tan boy takes in a heavy breath before replying, “I’m alright, Mama. How are you?”
                          
There's a sound on the other side of the line, like shuffling. Lance knows what could possibly be going on. When his mother shuffles, something is wrong. He struggles to breathe in the moment of silence. 
                          
“Mijo...su papá está enfermo.”

                          
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.

                          
.

                          
Keith hears the door open from behind him. He turns his head quickly to see Lance, drenched.
                          
Lance’s face was completely blank, unable to tell what he could be thinking. The pale boy got up and ran towards his fiance to give him a heartfelt hug. 
                          
The taller boy didn’t wrap his arms around Keith. Instead he stood there, staring out into oblivion as he quietly struggled to breathe. The latter didn’t mind Lance’s behavior. Keith could tell that his lover was upset about something serious, since Lance was usually one to not let certain conflicts move him. The two stood there, welcoming the silence into their usually noisy home. 
                          
After Lance was able to relax, he muttered a few words.  
                          
“My father...is sick. Not just sick but-” The words are caught in his throat. Lance was drowning from all the tears he held back on the way home.

                          
.

                          
.

                          
.

                          
“My dad,” Lance asked in his native language. His mom hummed in agreement. 
                          
“He isn’t in critical condition, but it won’t be long.” Lance stared out into the rain, collecting all his thoughts and mentally filing them in the proper cabinets before he conjured a mental breakdown. “I know you both are in bad terms, but I don’t want to see my son and husband have any regrets.”
                          
“Mama, what about Allura?”
                          
There was a pause. Lance sort of felt bad for bringing Allura up to his mother as if it she was at fault. He could hear a loud thump, indicating that the phone was dropped. Then there was a sound of a shuffle before his mother said, “You remember?”