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Summary
"My sister died and I didn't cry. Not even for like, a minute. I felt like such an ass. I mean, I still do. My mom cries whenever she walks past her room, and me? Nothing.”
“I’m sure y-”
“Did I even love her?"
"That's crazy," Keith scoffed, directing his focus to the empty bottle in Lance's hand. He offered him his own, half full, which Lance graciously accepted with a nod of his head. "Of course you loved her. You still love her. Just because you didn't cry- Lance, you don't have to cry to prove that you're upset. You know that, right? You don't owe that to yourself or anyone."
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