The Garrison is a pretty weird learning facility. I have a headcannon that they don't care if you miss class, as long as you are in the library, training area(s), or working on something for a different class. Occasionally this will be abused, but there is a counter measure that all students generally have to reach a certain grade that is combined with all your classes. If you are dangerously close to the cut off, they will assign you mandatory tutors. Garrison needs as much people as they can, as it is a private learning facility geared to some specific vocational areas (don't want to say private school because that makes it sound like Catholic or Christian school). Even with those counter measures, the instructors won't fill you in on what you missed—even if you were doing something important—but will give you the work that was assigned.
Forever on his phone calendar—and an ancient paper one from Hunk's side of the room—marks Day 133, otherwise known as February 7th. He marks it with a black sharpie before capping it and throwing it to his bed.
He follows suit, face planting onto his pillow and screams in it. He is at his peak, his emotions—anger, frustration, and his pride—are let loose, dying down from the agonizing tone that leaves his mouth. Lance fists the pillow closer to his mouth to muffle his pain. He doesn't care that he is acting like a toddler, be he needs some kind of outlet to take his emotions out on.
He can't talk to Hunk—his friend is working on an important project in the library—and he can't tell Cicero his problem. He doesn't know that he is having troubles with his soulmate—he had to spill because the Garrison had a week off for Thanksgiving and he saw his arm—because he never told the truth about his circumstance. The same thing with his parents; he didn't want them to feel horrible that he has a soulmate that didn't reciprocate with him. His whole family and close friends back home know that he has a soulmate and he doesn't want to disappoint them.
He cannot call them and tell them that he's upset over something that should make him elated. He should be jubilating that he got into the fighter class spot, but he just wished that it didn't have to be this way.
He recalls everything prior to his regression like breakdown.
He noticed that Keith wasn't at the early morning run. He assumed it was due to the other male being faster, and was up ahead. He had to push himself farther, leaving Hunk's side for the daily morning jog that is mandatory for all cadets, no matter what program they are in.
He also noticed the teen wasn't there for their physics class, and he could be facing detention. Detention itself is a punishment rarely administered in the Garrison from Lance's experiences. It's usually the last resort if someone has been out of conduct multiple times, the instructor believing that a fitting punishment is to miss class instead of demerits or odd punishments. Cutting into your learning is one of the harshest punishments—besides some privileges that are taken away—because they all have a shot to get in the Global Space Program.
Personally Lance was ecstatic. Keith managed to get himself in detention, and he can beat him in physics. His greatest strength is physics, and it already helps that he studies with Hunk. While he doesn't know Keith's grade during their only core class they share, he can assume it's in the upper percentile. He never seen raven haired male study for tests, never cramming before class, and the guy is in the fighter class. Not to mention his grade in flight theory isn't something to sneeze at.
He's willing to utilize any advantage he has to one up him. He paid extra attention to class, rarely getting distracted from Hunk whenever he tapped his desk when he's half-paying attention. The guy understands a lot of this stuff, but it is a requirement to take the class.
When flight simulation class rolled around, Lance thought something is up. Even though detention is one of the last resort punishments, Keith wouldn't do something stupid to warrant at least two classes of his absence.
From what Lance knows, Keith is the epitome of a perfect cadet. He takes risks when he feels like it is necessary, studious, strong-headed, and focused on each task given to him. While he may be the textbook definition of perfect in those aspects, he gets out of line when he believes he has done something he thought was right instead of assignments, or certain maneuvers. Nothing that gave him a demerit or two, and he is stuck in detention for who knows how long.
He hates to say it, but he's worried. It's not fun when his rival isn't here to even compete. It's one thing getting an edge, and another to not be in the running. If he can't one-up the teen what's the use of trying? No, Lance shook his head, he can't think that. It doesn't matter if he is or isn't here, he wants to be the best in the Garrison, even if he can't shove it in Keith's stupid face.
A minute before class starts, Iverson called Lance up. He was perplexed, he didn't do anything to get the resident hard-ass instructor on his case.
"Yes sir?" Lance asks as Iverson pulls him off to the side.
"Congratulations. You moved to fighter class," Iverson tersely states.
Lance couldn't believe it. His heart is soaring. Finally he's in the top notch program like he was meant to be. He couldn't help but have a large grin on his face.
His elated feeling halted when he recalled Iverson's words months prior. The only way to move up in ranking is through the test, and that doesn't happen until the next year.
"Not that this isn't an honor, but why?" He asks, hesitant to receive an answer, but searches the instructor's face. Iverson's frown lines are deeper than usual, and he bites back a thought about the wrinkles the man gained from that face.
"Cadet Kogane dropped out due to disciplinary issues." Iverson said, and he tsks at the end. "That boy was a fine pilot if he could reel in his temper. Now get back to your seat McLain. Paperwork's transferred so you're taking simulations with the fighter class cadets now."
He felt numb. No empty. A hollow victory that isn't even one. More of a standstill where you know your side got the worse deal.
Throughout the day he felt that, he shut off all his thoughts—girls, skin care, his tests, homework etc.—until he was walking back to his room with Hunk. Pain settled in his chest, his heart was beating loudly in his ears, and he couldn't keep his breathing even. He took deep breaths then shallow ones, and back again to even it out.
He walked to the shared room with shaking legs, circles the calendar, and lets out a scream of hurt and rage.
Lance calms down slightly, clenching the pillow as he stares at his wall. He doesn't know how long, or when the laugh started bubbling in his chest. He palms his hair, as he lets it out. The sounds that escape his throat are harsh and curt. He did it long and hard, and he coughed a few times riding the high.
His body trembles as his laughter slows. "God fucking damn it." Lance curses quietly, and his eyes sting. He repeats, "God fucking damn it."
All it took was for one person to drop out to get into the fighter class. He didn't really earn the title fighter class. No, he's still a fucking cargo pilot, and everyone is disappointed from that.
He wipes his eyes, and turns his body to stare at his ceiling. His fists are clenched into his pillow and blanket.
He isn't good enough to be a fighter pilot, he chuckles darkly as he tightens his fists. Not good enough to go due to his own merit. Not good enough until Keith decided he wanted to drop out all because of some kind of disciplinary issue. Lance snorts before clenching his jaw. The guy didn't bother to stick around to be his rival. Dropped off because he was suddenly too good for the Galaxy Garrison, who trains eager young minds for the next frontier.
Keith decided enough was enough, and dropped their whole rivalry on a whim. Fine. He can find someone else to be a guideline if that mullet wearing loser isn't going to be here. Add ten points or something to make things more accurate.
He turns around to glare at the calendar. He'll make sure Keith regrets this.
If he can't compete against him then he automatically wins. Not the greatest victory, but he'll make sure he comes out on top the next time he sees him. He'll be greater than Keith ever was, or will be, if he stuck to the Garrison. He can hold it over the teen, and shove the fact he didn't need him to his stupid face.
Lance doesn't need Keith, not the slightest. He knows he'll meet him again one day, even though he thinks that his one-way bond is inane. It has its use, to show him that he can go on just fine—better—in his life without the short teen being around.
"What kinds of food do you like?" Hunk asks, directing the question to their new teammate.
Just today Hunk and Lance managed to get on the same team for the rest of the year. They are the engineer and pilot respectfully, but they need a communications major to complete the triad.
"Peanut butter. Well any peanut products without just plain peanuts, like those peanut butter mochi. Delicious. Oh, and smooth chocolate, and pizza. Especially peanut butter with pizza" Pidge lists as he taps Hunk's desk. He then pushes the bridge of his glasses up, and flickers his eyes at Hunk, challenging him to think that peanut butter and pizza are not a good combination.
Hunk rubs his neck and chuckles nervously. Lance snorts at the two.
Lance's seat is pulled off to the side of his buddy, and this is the only shared class between all three programs where it is mandatory for teammates to be with. It's in the classroom where his old flying theory took place in.
"I would kill to get some pizza," Lance says, "maybe some different toppings. Like a sunny side up with ricotta and pine nuts. Ooh and some roasted cauliflower."
He is salivating from the thought of it. The two blanch at his suggestion.
"Seriously Lance?" Pidge says, "That sounds awful."
"He's not even joking. I saw him eat that." Hunk inputs.
"Like you have room to talk, you think Hawaiian Pizza is a good thing or anchovies and feta cheese is."
Pidge's mouth is wide open, and scoots his chair a bit. "You guys have weird tastes."
"Hey don't knock it 'till you try it." Lance says as he puts his hands behind his head. He tilts his head to the smallest member of the team, "You put peanut butter on perfectly good pizza! Peanut butter!"
"Cadet McClain, I don't want to hear you from here." Instructor Vargas warns.
"Hehe sorry sir." He says sheepishly.
"I think we should all try our favorite pizzas, that way we can see what's the best." Hunk suggests and Lance groans.
"But peanut butter is such a strong smell." He whines.
"No it isn't! It smells perfectly fine, in fact it is the greatest smell on the planet. No, the whole galaxy!" Pidge states, "Not like anchovies, ugh. I hate that fishy smell."
"Cadet Gunderson, same warning as your teammate." Instructor Vargas said as she leans down to his ear.
Pidge flails around, startled, and Lance slapped his hands over his mouth as the instructor left their group. He tries to quiet his giggles as his eyes look at a familiar desk. His laughter dies, and he frowns lightly. He touches his pocket, feeling the papers in there, before turning his attention back to his teammates.
"-aying that you should give it a try. Don't know what could tickle your palate." Hunk says as he wiggles his fingers close to Pidge's face.
He must have tuned out from their conversation, and immediately Lance focuses on the two.
Pidge moved the digits from his face slowly. "I just don't like fish."
"Oh. Well you can still try Hawaiian Pizza," Hunk immediately brightens.
"Hunk pineapple belongs in chocolate, sprinkled with sugar, in a smoothie, made into a dessert, or eaten plain."
"Says the guy who eats tomatoes whole."
"They are juicy and delicious. Mama always sneaked me one after grocery shopping, and I always buried them in the garden. Heck, we have our own tomatoes at home that appeared one day thanks to yours truly." Lance points his thumb to his chest.
"Dude, I think your parents bought a tomato plant for you." Pidge deadpans and Lance deflates.
"Taking Hunk's side huh. Betrayal from by my best friend reopen once again." He remembers the similarity between Pidge and Hunk's words when he was ten. Cicero was the only one who believed him, along with Jose and Lou when they were old enough to understand.
"Everyone should be close to the end of the 'Getting to Know You' activity sheet. Class shall officially begin in five minutes." Instructor Vargas said and all three of them look at their sheet.
They are on question two, "What is your favorite food?" The first question was about what program they are in, and there are ten questions printed on the single sheet. The next questions are what are your favorite colors, music, superpower, TV show, animal, hobby(s), relative, and if you could be anywhere in the world where would you be?
Standard questions, but the three of them look frantically at one another.
"One two three not it," Lance touches his nose and Pidge follows right behind.
"Oh darn. Fine speed round." Hunk says before sighing. "Orange, Scottish music, the power to make everything safe, Once in a Lifetime, and I love parrots. I love to cook, read, and watch the sunrise. My favorite relative is my mom, and visit Kaneohe again."
"Turquoise, alternative, power of probability, Prison Minds, cat, I code and game, my brother," a look of pain crosses his face before Pidge continues, "and I would be in Giza."
"Too OP," Hunk comments under his breath and Lance is bewildered before listing his favorite things.
"Forest green or a sky blue, pop, emotions, pick up chicks and game, and that one's difficult. I'll say Jose because he looks up to me and Varadero Beach."
"What kind of super power is emotion?"
"Well emotion regulation. You know, make someone feel attracted to me, calm people down that stuff. Probability?"
"Anything that could happen, I have control over." Pidge smirks and rubs his hands in glee. There is a reflection on his glasses, and if Lance is being honest with himself, it is a little offputing.
"That's why I said OP." Hunk said before holding his hands out in front of them, "Come on, slap it! New team."
Pidge is hesitant to give Hunk a high-five, but Lance instantly does it. He holds his hand out toward Pidge expecting him to hit it, and the poor guy looked baffled between the two hands. He then concedes and slaps both of their hands. The guy gives them a lopsided smile, "New team."
Vargas claps her hands twice, getting everyone's attention. "Back to your seats everyone. First day and all, but we need to get started."
A/N: September 28th. Lance rips out the month that is circled black, does the same with September 28th. He keeps it tucked in his pocket as a reminder. Keeps it with him forever. Same with August and February since he came to the Garrison that day and found the bad news about Keith.
Global space program: The highest tier anyone can reach. They are people who are experienced or promising rookies in the aerodynamic field, communications, or engineering—includes building or intricate wiring—of each nation. People from there go to a neutral nation to work together and it is also a way to build relations with one another. Think of it as the Olympics, except aiming for humanity's benefit.
Lance doesn't understand feelings. He may be on the right track, but the conclusion is way left field.
Lance and Hunk marks things down on the calendar.
Hunk days = orange
Tests/exams = red
Anything bad/don't want to do = black
Family days/events = brown
Important Garrison events = yellow