The Struggle with Secrets [Mavin Fanfiction]

Michael has always had to keep his anger in check. Why? The reason is quite simple, yet very obscure, he's a hybrid. Not the animal type of hybrid. No, it's more complex. He is an angel and demon hybrid. This...curse, is why he's living alone in New Jersey. He hates it with his very being. The reason? It makes him live longer than others, but he isn't immortal. He out lived his family. He had to watch the very people who loved him, and his secret, die. He was furious, still is, but he manages to keep that in check.

Anyway, Michael does in fact have wings. Fortunately, his mother and father taught him a concealing spell to hide his wings. He never understood how they knew that, but he doesn't dwell on that thought for long. The only thing giving a clue that he has wings when this spell is used, are the two perpendicular scars running from his shoulders to his middle, lower back.

The main reason he has to keep his anger in check, is because if too much of any emotion gets to him, his powers will be unleashed. Unfortunately, Michael has always had a short temper. Another reason Michael hates his curse is that he can't get close to anyone. They're several explainations as to why he can't; 1.) He's scared of watching the ones he love die in front of him again. 2.) They might find out his secret and Michael will have to move locations. There are, in fact, more reasons, but he doesn't really want to go into detail with them.

So here he is, alone, in his apartment, playing video games and raging at them, while capturing the footage on his camera. Michael's been doing the whole Youtube thing for a few months now, but it's mostly just to past the time and get out all his built up frustration of the day out. Michael has two jobs at the moment. He works at the nearby StarBucks for morning hours, and the GameStop, two blocks from his apartment, in afternoon hours. He gets decently paid and is quite settled for the moment.

He finishes the video and shuts the camera off. Michael gets up and goes into the kitchen, opening the fridge and grabs a beer. He pops the cap open and takes a sip, while walking back to the living room and sitting in his original spot. He lets out a heavy sigh, 'I'm going to regret this, aren't I,' he thinks begrudgingly. He shakes his head and puts down his drink. Michael removes his shirt and places the piece of clothing to his side. He breathes in and out and closes his eyes. He leans forward a bit from the couch cushions and focuses on the scars on his back. He visualises them closed, and then imagines them opening. He feels a slight heaviness on his back. He smirked at himself. "Still got it," he murmurs to himself happily at his small achievement. Michael may hate his power and lifespan, but he loves his wings. He doesn't summon them a lot, because they're a small reminder of what he is, but he pushes that to the back of his mind. He stands up and stretches his wings to their full length, which is 14 inches. He admires the elegant and soft feathers, which are a rusty brown, just like his curly hair. The feathers have small white spots on them. Michael smiles at them. 'Just like my freckles.'