Vikklan- Fallen Angel Part 2

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Vikk's P.O.V.

Lachlan didn't age. It was clear that his physical body wasn't going to change after about a year of him living with me even though his mind was aging as he learned- but the other thing that did grow was his wings. When I first met him his wings were about half as tall as him, folded tightly against back and hidden quite well, but over the year they began to grow. He didn't seem to notice until I pointed it out, and his eyes went wide with surprise. I supposed he was just excited at the thought of going home.

Over the year he was with me I noticed that there were some times he went out into the backyard and although at first I wondered what he was going, I quickly worked out. Every time he would stand outside he was straining himself trying to fly, his wings flapping furiously, but he never got anywhere. As his wings grew I knew it got easier for him to lift himself, but he never got more than an inch off the ground- his wings were simply not large enough to allow him to fly.

It was when I found him crying, curled up in the corner of the living room, that it had finally got too much for him. When I say crying he was full on bawling, tears and snot, wings curled up around his body which was trembling and shaking so much that for a heart stopping moment I thought he was having a seizure, but instead it was a panic attack that was so bad he could barely breathe.

All I could do to comfort him was hold him tight, whispering gentle but almost completely useless words into his ear. I squeezed his hand tight, wanting nothing more than for everything to be better.

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Even though Lachlan didn't grow, I did. I was 23 when I first met the boy, a child stuck in the body of a young man, an angel in the world of humans, an alien in a world that he didn't understand, and after almost 2 years I had turned 25, still living in the same small house, still working the same unconventional job on YouTube. I loved it, and I wouldn't change it for the world.

Lachlan was still as shy as ever and although the root of his frustration was more out in the open now, we both still struggled. He was more adept at expressing himself, finding the right words to tell me what was wrong and how to help and his concept of time and technology was much better, but on occasion it still got bad enough that he would self-harm. He didn't even know he was doing it most of the time, pulling so hard on the feathers of his wings that it drew blood. Most of the self-harm happened when he was thinking about going home, his wings too small to allow him to do so.

But still, he grew up a bit. As his wings grew he grew too, gaining more confidence as he got closer and closer to going home and although I felt sad when thinking about him leaving, I understood he couldn't stay. He didn't belong here, and he needed to be home.

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"Vikk?" Lachlan whispered, looking up at me, wide eyed.

"Yeah Lachy?" I replied, my heart sinking a little. "What's up?"

"I think... I think I remember some stuff from... home?" His voice was questioning and his brow was furrowed, confusion deep in his eyes.

"How do you mean?"

"I remember some... things..." He mumbled. "I remember... other people... other people like me. People with wings."

"Oh... oh Lachy this is great!" I smiled. "You might be able to work out how to get home!"

"No." He breathed, tears blurring his eyes. "I don't... it's not... I don't want to go home. It's not what I thought it was."

"What... what do you mean?" I asked, confused.

"They're... they kicked me out. It's why I can't fly, it's why... it's why I can't go home."

My heart sank all the way into my stomach as he started to sob, curling up on himself with his wings tucked tight around himself, ugly cries falling from his lips. For a moment I froze but when my mind caught up with me I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close.

That was all I could do.

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That event was really a turning point in Lachlan's journey because he started to develop on his own, finally having the understanding he needed to grow. He had been so fixated on going home, returning to his old way of life, that he had never really tried adjusting to where he was. Sure the discovery made him sad and also angry, but it started him down a new path in life.

It was his understanding of himself, his new found confidence, that got him where he wanted to go. He started to really throw himself into learning about his new world, working out how to do things on his own, living without my help. He was still barely able to leave the house but he learned all the things that he should know.

Over the period of a couple of mouths I taught him how to cook, how to do household chores like washing, I showed him what I did for a job (which he was fascinated with) and began to taught him how to entertain himself with technology. He quickly turned to YouTube to teach him things rather than me, which was very helpful.

I wasn't sure what it was that caused it, possibly his acceptance of his situation, but his wings grew even faster after that. It excited him- and it wasn't long before he was flying.

His flight was shaky and not at all strong, only a few feet above the ground, but he was flying and he was so damn proud of himself that I couldn't shoot him down. I only laughed as he swooped around the backyard, his fingers just touching the ground.

Lachlan wiggled his wings a little as I ran my fingers through his feathers, but he didn't pull away. He was used to my gentle touches now and even looked forward to them, it was a silent bonding time for the two of us and we often spent hours just sitting on the couch together, my hands combing through his wings.

I smiled to myself as Lachlan leaned his head back into my shoulder, his wings now folded tight against his back. I ran a hand through his hair and earned a low sigh of appreciation, shuffling back further against me.

"Comfortable Lachy?" I asked, continuing my gentle touches.

"Mm." He mumbled, closing his eyes. "Comfy."

"Good." I whispered, leaning down to gently press my lips to his forehead. "That's good."

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