To say that the academy was tough before would be an understatement. It had never been harder for the other boy. They switched his dorms, and he was forced to learn an entirely different protocol to respond. These men-- these mechanics would never go off to war, so they didn't treat the campus like so. They woke up late, slept in, went to bed late, partied. It was nothing like the North campus that Mikee had grown to love.
But it was on the other side that Mikee learned to grow and mature.
Within the months that he had been shifting over from Pilot to Mechanic, he had went to the North side many times. He went to raise hell with Mister McCoy, get his eyes examined by the nurse, and he even begged and begged to retake the Captain's test. But when he did get assigned, he was in a monitored session.
It began regularly, with Mikee going up to practice the easy dynamics. He was rusty from holding a wrench and hammer for the past couple of months, but he and his plane were both combined machines. He passed the first test quiet impressively, but then came the part he hated. The teachers who were observing wrote down data scores and other observations, and Mikee began to sweat.
He went onto the next test, and broke down like a baby. It was the first question that made him panic, and the rest that just went totally terrible for him. He got simple stuff wrong because he panicked. He didn't know his colors. What was a pure green? A bright yellow? What the hell did red look like?! Mikee didn't even finished the test. He bolted out of the mechanism before anyone else could stop him, and he was found later that day in his dorm, doing nothing but staring blankly at a pile of markers and crayons, trying to decipher them.
In that panic, he had taken all of the markers he could, and wrote a letter to James.
"JAMES -
I CAN'T FLY."
He didn't write any more. Or any less. He wanted to go home.
But that had been previous. It was atleast three weeks after the indecent, and he was now working. He was in the middle of a different test, one that wasn't like the Captain's test, but it wasn't all that easy like the other one. He had to build an engine from the ground up, place it inside a plane, and make sure nothing went wrong during the assembly of the creation.
Mikee finished in four hours and twenty minuets. He got an A. Mikee felt numb as he was handed the paper. This wasn't what he wanted to do with his life, but he was good at it. Under the hood, everything was the same color and everything was ordered. Everything was listed. It was like following a script. He looked at the top of his form, and he saw that the teacher had misspelt his name.
"Uh, Miss. Eugine?"
"Yes, sir?" The old woman asked, putting down her clipboard.
"My name is Mikee," He stated. "Not Mike, like on the sheet."
The old woman rolled her eyes, and placed a hand on his shoulder. He towered over the other lady, and she had to do her very best to reach the new giant. "You are far too mature for such a childish name, Mister Petrackish. Mike suits you better."
Mikee-- Mike nodded. He rolled the name around on his tongue, and went back to the finished product.
Mike managed to pass his classes with high marks. He got scholarships for mechanical engineering, workforce instruction, business educate, and so much more. But all of that didn't stop Mike from dropping out of his schooling in late July. On the first chance he could, he packed up all the stuff he could and decided to leave for good.
While his leaving wasn't graceful, he was 'honorably discharged'. Everyone from the North wing wished him luck, and his teachers from the South did the same. Most of the credits would transfer to the final years of his schooling, and even some went on to college. Mike spent some time to himself on the long bus ride, and he thought about what would come out of all that had taken place.
It was sometime in July when Mike returned home from his own personal war. The sun was hot, and the wind was hotter. He had dropped all of his things off and left almost unnoticed. His parents were often gone to Jordan during the summer months, and they hadn't gotten word that their son came back. Mike, while he was home alone, took a good look at himself in the mirror.
He had changed quite drastically.
He was taller, for one. A bit more bulky, and he grew into his shape. His face was tired, and he hadn't shaved in a while. He had brown stubble going where baby hairs once used to be. He brought his hands up to rub his face, and he felt the calluses and the scars. He felt like he was new. He felt like Mike.
Mike walked out of that house, adorning clothes he had bought from a time long ago. He had on a while shirt, nice pants and a good jacket. Nothing more, nothing less. He spent a good time taking the long way to James' house, so he knew exactly what to say to the boy once he managed there. To think, months away from him and he would be excited to hear from him, but really, Mike was terrified.
One thing he had grown into was, sadly, hesitentivness. He had drawn back. His disability had made him humble. He didn't blurt, or interrupt. He listened, communicated, waited. He was scared and drawn back when he made it up to the large house. Had he already been married while Mike was away? Did he replace him after all? Did he move?
Did James even care about him anymore?
Mike knocked on the door, his rapping matching tone to his wicked heart-beat.