The spark of defiance was slowly dying out.
Lance could feel it — the entirety inside him that remembered, it slammed against the wall of oblivion, roaring to finally be let out.
And honestly, he became tired of fighting against it. Maybe it should be like this, he was just the dog that handed over his leash willingly, although he was not willing at all.
Running his hands through his hair, he didn't know what to think, feel and how to behave. He closed his eyes and leaned back, hearing Paige put away the things under the seat.
He resolved for now to just close his eyes and stop looking at her.
But he heard her soft breathing, and could smell the scent he had fallen in love with.
'Fuck fuck fuck fuck'
****
They arrived with an angry Lance and an angry Paige; besides there being one who volunteered to let himself be taken cared of, and one who volunteered to take care of the other. What could be harmonious was awkward and irksome.