He had them ever since he could remember.
It was a secret, something he learned to keep a secret, being pounded from an early life to hide it away, fold it down, never let other people see -
Wings.
For something that were symbols of independence, flight, freedom, it was one of the only things chaining him down.
All his life, he had to live with the wings tucked in and bandaged away, with visits to a shady clinic every 6 months.
When people asked about the near constant existance of the backpack or thick jacket everywhere, he would smile and lie about a spine brace.
And no one asked twice.
He wasn't born with them.
It kind of... popped out one day.
At least, that's how his family described it.
The family had been minding their own business, when toddler Lance started whimpering and squirming. To their surprise, fluffy downy fledgling wings had appeared under his clothes.
They moved away to another city right after.
The wings weren't always bandaged away.
Whenever the family could, Mama would close up all the windows and curtains, close the door to the big room, and stretch out his wings for the family to brush through the mess of feathers.
'Mi pajarito bonito,' she would croon, straightening the ruffled feathers. 'My little angel. I love you, mijo, no matter what.'
And he understood the reason for the secrecy, he really did.
He just wished his wings meant something more than what the public said it was - a quirk in mutation.
There were whispers.
Whispers of a select population with actual wings: The Pennipotus. The Winged Ones.
The discovery was mostly hushed up, but once it had hit, people were looking for more, more, more.
Every year, more and more people joined the Pennipotus, so many that in the bigger cities, a few dozen could be seen with wings out, just daring anyone to comment.
More and more of the Pennipotus began to outright advocate to be accepted into normal society, getting jobs and whatnot with no fear of retribution.
The whispers of equality and civil rights had changed to a roar - until one of the well known Galaxy Garrison pilots, Takashi Shirogane, revealed himself as one of the Pennipotus, coining the term 'joining the flock'.
Lance watched this unfold with pride in his eyes, awe and inspiration in his wings and pride in his heart.
He was going to be pilot, and be free, just like Takashi Shirogane.
He had gotten in the program, and had promised himself that he would come out and 'join the flock', that he would come out to the world by the first week -
But the years of hide hide hide and don't let people see -
Why were lies so much more easier?
And in the first pilot orientation class, he saw it.
Gorgeous, gorgeous wings, flared out almost in defiance, creating a bubble of empty space in the crowded room.
Dark, dark brown with slight black highlights, tipped with smatterings of white.
Streamlined lines of sleek feathers that all but screamed speed -
Lance closed his open mouth at a nudge from behind him, and tried to focus on anything but the winged boy in front.
As he kept glancing towards the bold bird boy, a sour taste made its way to the back of his mouth.
The boy's wings - they were beautifully taken care of.
His mouth couldn't help but quirk down at the memory of the state of his own ragtag bag of feathers. Furtive and rushed hand brushes were the most he got.
Fear of being discovered, he thought bitterly, sneering down his shoes. I'm pathetic.
He glanced at the dark haired boy ahead. The boy was standing in an at ease position, cool and calm to the whispers coming from behind him.
And those wings!
He couldn't help but admire them every time his eyes brushed over them, the healthy glow unconsciously pulling at his fingers to brush through them.
I should be as bold as he is, he thought, resolve in his eyes. His hands began to undo the first button of his thick jacket that held his bandaged wings, shivering with excitement at the thought of having an ally -
"Birdbrain thinks he's a hotshot, with those mutations on display," a harsh stage whisper stopped him in his tracks.
Lance froze. Ahead of him, he saw the pretty wings stiffen and still.
"School for pilots, not birds," the same voice scoffed louder. "Real flying is with machines -"
Lance slowly lowered his hand from his collar, leaving the second button untouched.
He thought he saw the glorious feathers shrink, but he must have seen wrong, because the brave winged boy decided to unfurl his wings even further, pushing the nearby cadets even further back.
Like an avenging angel, Lance's mouth hung slightly open, gazing amazed at the full wingspan.
There were several gasps of amazement as everyone realized exactly how big they were, and before anyone else had a chance to comment, a uniformed officer stood up to the podium and began to speak.
Useless, pathetic, coward. Lance barely heard the speech so busy he was with his demons.
You'll never be good enough, the voices whispered. You're never going to be free.
Lance wordlessly rebuttoned his jacket and stood stiff, eyes resolutely turned away from the boy with wings.
A/N
I wanted to write more before I posted it here (it was posted on my tumblr first) but I never ended up writing more.
...since then, it has been almost a year...OTL
