He could barely see. Tears were only just being held back as he stormed through the empty corridors. His face was red, not from tears or shame but from how hard he had been rubbing it to keep the tears at bay. No one could be allowed to see him like this. He had already stormed away from their taunts, if they were to see him now he didn't know how he could live past it.
He was still in a corridor accessible to anyone. Anyone could walk by and see him. He shuddered, the fear of Commander Iverson seeing him like this quickly flooding his thoughts. He just needed to hurry up. He was too far away from his dorm to hide there, besides he still didn't know his dormmate, Hunk, too well and didn't want to bother him. A bathroom was the next best bet. He couldn't be too far away from one now.
He turned down another corner, the Garrison still felt like a maze to him despite being there for a few months now already, bumping headfirst into something equal parts hard and soft. Lance yelped, stumbling back and clutching his head, although it didn't hurt. He muttered an apology, eyes only looking up to meet the beginning of a Garrison officer's uniform as he moved to go past him - not wanting to see who it was that had seen him like this.
He had barely made it past him when a hand landed on his shoulder, keeping him in place and turning him ever so slightly so they could see each other's faces.
It was Professor Westly.
Lance lowered his gaze. Professor Westly was his favourite teacher. He didn't know if he was glad it was him or not.
Westly seemed to scan over his face in silence for a minute before letting go of his shoulder, "Join me in my office, McClain?"
Lance didn't say anything, keeping his eyes downcast as he silently followed him into his office. He had never been in here before. The Professor usually only called poorly behaved cadets in here, like Kogane - he had been called in quite a few times to Lance's knowledge. He was a stern teacher but Lance liked him.
The Professor closed the door behind them and crossed the room, gesturing to a comfy-looking seat in front of a coffee table and asking him to sit. Lance sat stiffly, unsure of how he should be presenting himself. Was he in trouble? He hadn't saluted the man properly in the hall earlier but he wouldn't have been sent to his office for that, would he? He shrunk further into the chair. He hoped he hadn't disappointed Professor Westly. That would just be another thing to make him want to cry himself to sleep tonight.
Cups clinked in the corner where Westly was busying himself, "You're not lactose intolerant, are you?"
Lance watched him curiously, not quite able to see what he was doing from this angle, "..No?"
"Good." Lance had to hold back the sigh of relief when the Professor's voice came back pleased. The man came back towards the table, slowly this time as he was carrying cups. He set a mug down in front of Lance and sat down in a seat across from him, taking a few tentative sips of his own drink before setting that down in front of his as well with his hands cupping it.
"McClain - Lance." The man shook his head for a moment in indecision before settling on the name, "You can calm down, I just want to talk."
Lance sent him a miserable attempt at a smile before ducking his head back down to where his hands where shaking on his lap, he didn't think he could pick up that cup right now if he tried, "W-what about, Professor?"
"Adam." Westly stalled before talking again, this time a smile hesitantly coming to his lips, "You can call me Adam outside of class. Only a few years and we'll be co-workers," Adam took another sip of his drink, "The formalities are pretty pointless traditions in my opinion."
Lance breathed out a laugh, "Okay, sir - Adam."
The silence stretched between them for a moment longer and Adam set his tea down again, "What are your plans for next year? You have months but you can never have enough time to properly prepare."
Lance reached a hand out to his cup, fingers skimming the edges before he quietly answered, he wasn't good enough to fighter class, people only laughed at him when he said it was his dream, "...I want to be a pilot... fighter class." His voice wavered at the end and trailed off into a whisper.
Adam nodded to him from across the table, looking pleased, "Your grades are definitely on route to get in. You'll be easily qualified if you carry on like this." Lance bit his lip, finally willing himself to have a sip of the drink. Hot chocolate. "I'm sure you already know how difficult it will be. The Garrison's not always about skill or potential - it's far too focused on competition. With you attending the Garrison with a Visa as well, it's going to be more difficult." Lance already knew all of this, he'd told himself this enough when he wanted to put off studying, "They'll no doubt favour someone that they think is... more likely to stick around."
"From what I've seen in my class, your theory and independent work really does show your potential. It's when it comes to relying on others that you struggle. Your linguistic capabilities could also use some improvement."
"I know that, I'm working on it, alright." He winced, noticing the clear anger in his voice. Adam looked surprised as well but didn't comment on it.
"I know. You've already improved a lo-" He was cut off with a knock at the door and Adam sighed, clearly annoyed that he'd been interrupted but called them in anyway.
A taller man with a head of dark hair shaven at the sides walked in. Lance had seen him around before and he could vaguely recognise his face but no name could be connected to it. When Adam's eyes fell on the man his whole demeaner changed. His eyes lit up and a smile spread across his face, waving him further in eagerly, "Hey, Takashi. What brings you to these parts?"
The man came in further, carrying a pile of books with a small cardboard box stacked on top. He gave Adam a questioning look when he noticed Lance, his face defaulting to a disappointed dad look that gave Lance the sudden need to defend his non-existent wrongdoings. Adam responded with silent response that he couldn't quite decipher but caused Lance to relax when the officer sent him a smile. He dropped off the books on a counter and the box on Adam's lap, reaching over the give Lance's hair a ruffle, "So, you're Lance. Be careful and don't give up. I know you'll do great."
Lance watched him leave, stunned and unable to come up with anything to think, let alone say.
Adam chuckled at him, passing him a cookie, "Don't worry, Shiro didn't make these. They're perfectly edible." Lance took the cookie and looked blankly at him as he nibbled it. Adam laughed at him, louder this time, "That was Shiro. He's my hot shot astronaut boyfriend."
Lance brightened up, he didn't know there were any queer staff at the Garrison. The people in his class certainly acted like it could never even be possible, "Woah, that's... so cool. Congrats."
Adam nodded at him, looking proud - of himself or Shiro, Lance couldn't tell, "Shiro was still learning English when he joined the Garrison too. And now he's an astronaut."
Lance looked back at his drink, eyes still stinging a little from earlier but the throbbing need to cry had died down. He could do this. He could get into fighter class. Keith was one of the best in their year so surely if he could beat him then he would be guaranteed a place. He took a sip of the drink, mind made up. He was going to beat Keith and he was going to get into fighter class and then he could be an astronaut - like Shiro. He could do this.
