Wanted to finish the first five chapters before publishing so people could have more material than just chapter one to judge. I've found out I quite like writing romance...
Anyway, I hope you enjoy this. It's definitely been fun and cathartic to write.
Note: author themself is chronically ill although not with exactly what Danny has in this fic. So please please please my abled/healthy readers remember that chronic pain and chronic illness is a very... fluid experience and think over your words before talking. Please.
Even though it's hot at the San Fransokyo airport, I can't take off my jacket. Even if the flight attendant assigned to me wasn't wheeling me so fast my hands are stuck to the armrest and I'm stuck praying that neither I nor my cane fall off, I have a backpack on and taking it off is a hassle.
"Is anyone waiting for you?" the flight attendant asks. I slither off the airport wheelchair and steady myself with my cane before grabbing my bags and shaking my head.
"No, I'll just take a taxi. Thank you."
"Have a good day." The flight attendant runs off, probably catching another plane or another DPNA request. I sigh and readjust my bag before taking my phone out of my pocket and ordering a ride.
The driver stares at me, a quick judgmental glare of my cane and I gulp and smile and try to load my bags into the backseat without taking too much time. The drive is tense and I play with the ghost stickers on my cane. I pay the driver and leave the car a few blocks early once the driver's glare gets under my skin and struggle to handle my bags without losing my balance. Then I see it and the frustration and embarrassment melts into nothingness.
The tall gates of the San Fransokyo Institute of Technology are open like a portal to another world. I try to walk so fast I almost trip over and take a moment to steady myself. The courtyard is grassy and bright, with people who aren't in class at the moment walking around or sitting talking to each other casually. The doors in the front of the main building are automatic, washing me with relief. The wonder dissipates the moment my movement causes pain to travel up my legs, taking all the air out of me.
The airplane wasn't kind to me.
Hobbling over to the stairs leading to the doors, I sit and exhale deeply. I lean on the wall and open my map again. Now, where are the dorms?
"Are you lost?"
I yelp at the voice and whip my face around to look at a tall guy behind me. He's black and wearing a green loose knit sweater and a matching headlack to push his dreadlocks out of his face. His smile is amicable and I shuffle around to face him.
"Did the bags give it away?" I joke. He shrugs. "I'm actually looking for my dorm. Uh, here," I flip the map to its back and point to where I wrote down my dorm number. His eyes widen.
"Oh, you're my new roommate!"
"Oh!" I use the stairs' handrail to push myself up to a standing position and offer my hand. "Nice to meet you, Damon." He cringes, startling me. What did I do wrong? "I'm sorry, did I deadname you or something?" He blinks and then shakes his head, embarrassed.
"No, no, that's— that's my name." He scratches his neck. "I'm just so used to everyone calling me by my nickname that unless I'm at the doctor's office or something I never hear it. Call me Wasabi."
"Oh, okay." I extend my hand again. "Nice meeting you, Wasabi. I'm Danny Fenton, your new roommate." He shakes my hand and looks at my bags. "Can you help me find our dorm?"
"Sure thing! It's actually on the other side of campus. Do you want help with your bags?" His eyes linger on the cane and I grip the handrail a little tighter. I want to say no, but I'm so exhausted after the airport that I smile gratefully nod instead. "Okay then, Danny, let's go." He lifts the bigger of my bags like it's nothing and, once we reach the bottom step, starts rolling it along. I trail behind him taking in the view. I'm only taken out of my fascination by the sharp, stabbing pain that accompanies each step. Wasabi stops walking and turns to look at me. "Are you okay?" he asks. I shrug.
"Jet lagged," I half-lie, and continue walking. He tries to match my pace so I can keep up and I mutter a thanks.
Our room is on the second floor and we use the elevator to get there. Wasabi keeps his side of the room neat and put away, something I'm deeply grateful for as it means I can get around the room without tripping over random books and laundry. He sets my bag by my bed and pats it.
"Do you want me to stay so I can show you the robotics lab afterwards?" The question catches me off guard. I bite my lip while I think. On one hand, I'm exhausted and I can feel my knees and ankles swelling from the trip. But turning him down sounds immensely awkward, and I should see the lab now instead of later… I can feel Sam yelling at me from Amity as I respond.
"Yes, please." I organize things quickly, putting my notebooks on my desk and putting my sheets on the bed (not as neatly at Wasabi, but it does the job). I keep my medication in my bag and put the posters and pictures on my desk rather than on the wall. Even if I weren't keeping Wasabi waiting for me, there's no way I can get on my knees and keep my arms raised for long enough to put up all the pictures. I stuff my clothes into the drawer under the bed and feel Wasabi's desperation at my messy job crawling up my back.
"It's just for now, I promise I'll organize it later." I straighten my back and grab my NASA backpack and cane. I squeeze my cane with a white-kuckled grip to keep myself from crying out in pain with each step. Too late to back out now.
The robotics building is large and modern with the glass walls and glorious white stairs leading up to the doors. I frown. "Hey, uh, where's the ramp?" Wasabi freezes.
"Well, the little walkway over there also leads to the building." He trails off and I bite my tongue. A small bit of dread climbs up my throat and I push it down to follow him. I try to hurry up the stairs and lean on the cane way too hard once I reach the top. Still, the lab is nice, with high walls and testing areas and desks for each person. I spot my desk by the fact it's barren and nod to myself. Wasabi is still talking about each section of the lab and where his table is in case I need him when my pain suddenly spikes and I tumble. It's bad enough to make me nauseous and I cover my mouth. "Hey, are you okay?" I breathe deeply.
"Y-yeah," I lie poorly. "I just need a moment. Thanks for showing me around." I don't even think about asking him where I get my ID. Just as I leave the front doors, I clip shoulders with someone. The impact makes me see stars. Once my vision clears, I'm faced with a tall person in a cap and thin sweater. I nod at him before limping off.
Not such a great first day.
Eventually, I find where I can get my ID and my photo looks like I crawled out of hell: hair out of place, tired eyes and lips in a tight line. I ask for directions to the Disability Services Office.
The lady there is kind, with crow's feet around her gray eyes and a long sleeved pink dress. Her silvering hair is in a loose ponytail and she smiles politely between every sentence.
"I remember your email and phone call! You're Fenton," she says. "I emailed your professors, but remember you have to talk to them yourself about the actual accommodations. Thank you for checking. How are you finding campus?"
I consider mentioning the ramp problem, but decide that's for another day and shrug with a blank smile. "It's good, people are really friendly. My roommate showed me around."
"That's Wasabi," she laughs and I stare at her. He wasn't kidding when he said everyone calls him that. "Okay, well, pleasure to meet you Danny. May you enjoy being part of the SFIT family." I thank her and make the trek back to my dorm. I mean to organize my clothes and maybe take medicine but the moment I sit on the mattress to catch my breath my body gives out on me. I crumple on top of the mattress, shoes and backpack and all, and close my eyes.
My phone vibrating and flashing wakes me up, and I accept the call without checking the number first. Without the flashing light, the room plunges into an awkward evening darkness, red shadows dancing along the walls.
"Hello?" I slur.
"Didn't answer your messages, so I figured you were sleeping," comes the response. I roll my eyes slightly.
"Thanks, Jazz."
"How's the place?" I consider telling her about my swelling and exhaustion, but hold back. If I tell her, she'll tell Mom and Dad and Sam and Tucker and then I'll be on the phone with everyone until midnight.
"It's okay." I shrug even though she can't see it. "I'm jet-lagged and tired from the airport, but from what I saw campus is nice. A little inaccessible though, so that's a downer. My roommate is really friendly though."
"I can't wait for it to show up on the news you fought the person who built SFIT a hundred years ago to talk about ramps, doors, and stuff like that," Jazz jokes.
"Shut up."
"Never, little bro. It's around six over there, so please go ahead and eat something. Take your meds, sleep, drink water… not in that order." I snort at her rambling.
"Jeez, okay, Mom."
"Want me to put her on the phone? Because I will, and then you'll beg for me."
"No, no, please. Fine, I'll eat and stuff, just don't put her on the phone yet."
"Aye aye. Okay, bye. If you haven't eaten when I text you in an hour I'm telling Mom."
"You're the worst. Love you. Bye." I hang up and stare at the dark ceiling. I can feel my knees throbbing and curse at myself. Might have to miss class tomorrow already. "Dumbass," I mumble, and then get up. I make my way to the bathroom (an in-dorm one, an accommodation that was luckily possible) with slow and unsteady steps and check my knees. I brush my fingers over them, wincing at the sharp pain the light touch causes. They're warm to the touch, too. Just my luck.
I buy food and water at the cafeteria and limp back to my dorm room. I turn on the desk light and nibble on my food slowly. I rummage through my bag and take all my medication before Wasabi can come back and see the huge pill organizer. Once I finish my food and text Jazz, I start the ultimate task: showering.
The process is grueling, but by the time I get out of the bathroom in my boxers, shirt, and compression socks, Wasabi still isn't back. He's probably with friends or has a night class. I crawl into bed and sift through my bag to find the compression bandages and pain relief patches. After covering all the surface area of my knees, I plop back and work my way under the covers. My alarm is set and I write notes in my symptom tracker app about my knees and campus. I set it to charge next to my pillow and doze off.
Someone shakes my shoulder, making it hurt. I open my eyes to see Wasabi.
"You ate, right? You could find the cafeteria?" His genuine caring warms my heart enough to stop me from grumbling that he woke me up.
"Yeah," I mumble sleepily, and check my phone. As if on cue, it flashes and vibrates with a message from Jazz and Sam. I answer them, say goodnight to them and Wasabi, and close my eyes again, feeling heavier than ever. Probably the strong medication.
Hopefully the pain relief numbs me enough I don't wake up throughout the night.
I'm (atm) a high school art gay going to an art school writing stem gays at an institute of technology, so please, college students and/or stem gays suspend your disbelief, I'm really trying.
Love y'all.