Chapter Text
Being an adult sucked.
Shoto knew he barely qualified as being able to make that statement- he had literally only just turned eighteen- but it was true. Adulthood sucked, especially when one was in Shoto’s situation: physically unable to speak, yet still expected to answer every question sent to him promptly. University was supposed to be a massive upgrade from high school, but so far, he was still dealing with the same issues. Adults rarely wanted to deal with a disabled, hormonal teenager, after all. Doubly more so when it came to student accommodations and safety, things that might inconvenience them, or worse, cost them money.
Which was why he was here, in the admissions and student housing office, his official paperwork neatly sorted in the folder on top of his tense knees. He might be a highly desirable applicant- which showed in the sheer amount of scholarships he had- but this was always the same. Where were they going to place him? What was the lowest amount of accommodations they could fork over? At least this wasn’t as bad as the foster care offices, where they would look at him like a bug that needed to just be squashed instead of placed somewhere where he wouldn’t be abused or messed with. Here, he was an adult, and was using their system as a form of protection; they had to deal with him, whether they liked it or not. Medicine and insurance was ass in this country, but at least the existing disability protections were still in place, and still able to keep him safe.
Movement from to the left drew his attention: the door opened, and one of the office workers, a lady with severe crow-face syndrome and an impressive scowl, moved to the desk and exchanged a few terse words with the secretary at the desk, before turning to him. “Mr. Kurayami,” she announced in a harsh, gravelly voice. “Please come with me.”
They’d reached a decision, then. Carefully, Shoto gathered both his folder and the notebook he used for communication- he’d never properly gotten the hand of sign language, to his chagrin- and followed the woman back through the door and through a dreary hallway of closed doors, until she gestured for him to enter her office. The office was just as blandly undecorated as the hall, though there were windows here, which was a bonus, and Shoto obediently sat in the single chair available and waited for the woman to move behind her desk.
To his relief, she got straight to the point: “Mr. Kurayami, after considering the nature of the required accommodations for your condition, we believe we’ve found a suitable arrangement that will satisfy both your wellbeing and necessary accommodation.”
A quick glance at the nameplate on her desk told Shoto that this woman- a Mrs. Smith- was clearly not enthused about talking to younger adults, and especially not to him. Obediently, he uncapped his pen and quickly wrote out his response.
What are the details of this arrangement?
To her credit, Mrs. Smith’s expression didn’t change as she read his response. In that, at least, she was better than most. “In accordance with school policy, it is preferred that newly-arriving students spend their first two years on campus in the provided dormitories. However, we have found a potential placement with an upperclassman who is willing to accommodate you in his private residence.”
Shoto blinks. Was this woman saying they were going to stick him in some random stranger’s house?
Perhaps noting his unease, Mrs. Smith continued: “As part of the adjustments to our curriculum as required in the past two years, all students are required to undertake some form of disability awareness courses. In exchange for not having to participate in said courses, one of our Master’s students has agreed to provide your housing for the next year. After that, we will revisit the situation and decide what needs to be done. Your roommate was contacted and has agreed, and is making his way here as we speak.”
So they were shoving him in with a student who took a deal to skip classes, then. Great. Shoto resisted the urge to sigh. It could be worse. They could have stuck him in the basement of some dilapidated dorm room and left him to suffer. At least this student was getting something out of it, which would hopefully mean they didn’t treat Shoto too badly. Still, the situation was humiliating. Adulthood clearly hadn’t changed much. Once more, he was an undesirable being tossed around until they didn’t have to deal with him anymore.
Carefully, he wrote out a new question.
Was this student made aware of my communication methods?
Mrs. Smith nodded. “We informed him that you were mute, and that you preferred to speak via written correspondence as opposed to sign language,” she answered, surprising him. “We ensured that he was made aware of the necessary accommodations and consented to abide by them. Mr. Akuma is a model student here at Rowan College, and we expect he will be more than capable of aiding you with anything necessary pertaining to your first year here.”
Her words are formal, as expected, but they are also seemingly sincere, which is not expected at all. Despite her forbidding appearance, if this woman didn’t care at least in some capacity- whether it was for his sake or the school’s, though he’d bet the latter- she wouldn’t be trying to reassure him like this.
There’s a part of him that wants to hope this is for the better. There really is.
The rest of him is telling that part to shut up and stop hoping for something that has never once happened before, and sure as fuck isn’t about to happen now.
At least if this housemate of his was on his way already, Shoto wouldn’t have to wait much longer. He closed his eyes and settled down to wait. He’s good at that, after all. Patient, and quiet. The ideal roommate, actually, if he thinks about it.
Well. At least this Master’s student gets some perks out of the deal.