Active TWs: Ableism, Faunus Racism, Briefly Implied Suicidal Ideation
Passive TWs: PTSD, Depression
6. September: Roots
The moment the professor dismissed the class, Yang was out of her chair and making a beeline for the door. She hadn't even slung her messenger bag fully across her body by the time she made it into the hall.
She turned the corner, headed down the front steps of the building. It was later in the day, early evening, and she had finally gotten out of her last class of the day. People were milling about, leaving classes, going to clubs or work, or heading back home. She stepped off to the side, standing next to the staircase so she could get herself situated before making her walk back to Beacon Hall.
With careful skill, she pulled her phone out of her left pants pocket. Her earbuds were wrapped around the top half of the phone, plugged in, with the buds loosely placed at the front. With a careful grip, she used her thumb to flick off the earbuds, and then spun the phone in her hand repeatedly until the earbuds were no longer wrapped around the top. She slipped the phone back into her pocket, grabbing the loose earbuds and putting them into her ears.
Once they were secured in her ears, Yang pulled her phone back out of her pocket and began to walk. She opened up Spotify, scrolling for a moment before clicking on her Yangst playlist. The title always made her feel at least a little bit better, since it was a dumb pun she had came up with when she was 15. Over the years, her reasons for listening to this playlist had changed, and plenty of new songs had been added, but one thing remained the same: when she listened to it, she was having a bad day.
Yang hit shuffle and the first song popped up.
Hey Asshole - Watsky
She flicked the album cover away. Good angst song, but more for a depressed angst, not an anger angst. The next song popped up.
Talking to Myself - Watsky
Two Watsky songs in a row? Still, she'd take it. This was exactly what she was looking for. She pressed the repeat button twice, slid her phone back into her pocket, and began to walk.
One day you opened up your eyes inside of you
Inside a world inside a universe you didn't get to choose
You didn't get to pick the rules or pick the past or set the pace
Or cast the cast and crew you didn't get to pick your starting place
And though it was a race you didn't understand
You simply lined up on the blocks and when the pistol popped you ran
And when you tripped and dropped you picked yourself up off the ground
And picked your scabs you knew you had to pick a plan to end what you began
As she walked, she could feel them. All of them.
The eyes, the stares. It had been nonstop all week. And she was so fucking sick of it.
As you got older there were days of cold surrender
Days of shrugged whatevers folded in with days of shocking splendor
But as time advanced the lovely days were covered up from view
By an advancing melancholy haze that hovered near the dew
Yet there were moments
There were these pure arresting moments when you stepped outside your head
Outside your pain outside control, outside the bullshit, out of body, out of rage
Outside the need to get it, get it, you will never get it, that's okay
The song had looped twice by the time she made it back to Beacon Hall. She tapped into the lobby, using the fob attached to the bracelet on her wrist. That was one of the perks of the aftermath of the accident, getting a special fob from the disabilities center and not having to swipe in everywhere anymore, since she couldn't really pull her card out of anything with only one hand.
It's the little things, she would often have to remind herself. The little positives out of all of this that she had to latch onto. If she didn't, she wasn't sure she could convince herself that going through everything every day was actually worth it.
Have you felt a little off today
Had a lot to say
But wound up talking to yourself?
Have you hunted for a kindly ear
But couldn't find one near
And wound up talking to yourself?
Yang stepped off the Beacon South elevator on the first floor. She had to consciously remind herself to turn right instead of left, her old autopilot from her semester in Beacon North still alive and well, much to her annoyance.
Every floor in Beacon Hall was a square. Beacon North only had odd numbered rooms, while Beacon South had even numbered rooms. In Beacon South, the room numbers started in the Northwest corner with room 102. Then, as the rooms continued down the Northern hallway to the East, their numbers went up in increments of 2, going to 104, then 106, and so on. In the middle of the Northern hallway, between rooms 106 and 108, was one of two staircases in the tower.
The Northern hallway ended at 112, and the Eastern hallway began at 114. The Eastern hallway had both of the singles on the floor, 118 and 122 and the study lounge, 120, the only non-double occupancy rooms along the outer square. The Eastern hallway ended with 126, and the Southern hallway had room numbers 128 through 138, with the other staircase in the tower located between rooms 132 and 134. The Western Hallway had room numbers 140 through 152, with room 146 being the floor's trash closet.
The center of the tower had elevators that opened up to the Northern hallway, and custodial closets open to the Southern hallway. These structures served as a halfway point for the rooms located in the center of the tower, completely detached from the ring of rooms on the outer side of the hallway. On the Eastern half of the center was the women's restroom, with doors opening to the Northern and Southern hallways. The Western half was a mirror image, but had the men's restroom instead. The two towers of Beacon Hall were connected in the lobby with two sets of elevators that faced each other, making them a mirror image of each other. In Beacon South, the elevators opened to the Northern hallway, as the elevators faced Beacon North, and vice versa.
When Yang had lived in Beacon North, she had lived in room 137, which was exactly where room 138 was in Beacon South. She would take a left turn out of the elevator, and then turn down the hallway until she reached the back corner. When autopilot had taken over, it wasn't until she read the name tags on the door of 138 that she remembered that she didn't live in that room anymore.
Despite her best efforts, it had been a full week since she had moved into her dorm, and this was her first time that she hadn't accidentally let autopilot take over.
She turned the corner, heading down her hall. She was staring at the ground as she walked, lost deep in thought about how the towers were designed, when something caught her attention out of the corner of her eye.
She took a step back, pulling her earbuds out of her ears and blinking as she mentally confirmed what she had just seen.
A light grey baby gate… In the doorway of a dorm room?
Yang looked up to see Blake sitting in the middle of the floor in her room, holding out a cat toy on a stick as a rather small black cat fought the ball on the other end.
"Hello!" Blake exclaimed with a smile, giving a little wave with her free hand.
"Hi…" Yang hesitated, still processing the image. "You have a cat?"
Blake nodded. "This is Gambol. Would you like to meet her? She's a sweetheart."
"Sure." Yang shoved her earbuds into her pocket as best she could, before stepping carefully over the baby gate. "I didn't realize you had a cat."
Blake nodded. "She's my ESA."
"ESA?" Yang asked as she crouched down next to Blake and Gambol, who was still very enthralled by the ball attached to the stick in Blake's hand.
"Emotional Support Animal," Blake responded, shaking her head. "Sorry, I forget that not everyone speaks in university bureaucracy acronyms. Reslife kinda drills that stuff into your brain."
Yang smiled at Gambol, who had finally noticed the new person in the room. Gambol got up, and trotted the few cat steps over to Yang, who held out her left hand for investigation. After a few moments of sniffing, Gambol decided that Yang was trustworthy, and ran her head along her hand, demanding head scratches.
"She's so friendly!" Yang commented, her smile spreading wider as Gambol began to purr.
"She does a great job at bringing up people's moods. She kind of nailed the whole ESA gig."
"What exactly is an Emotional Support Animal?" Yang asked.
"It's a classification for disability accommodations," Blake explained. "She helps me a lot with my mental illnesses."
"Kind of like a service animal?"
Blake hesitated for a moment. "Yes and no. Yes, because they cannot deny me her as an accommodation, but also no, because she isn't a service animal. Service animals perform specific tasks for their handlers, are allowed out in public, and are specially trained to perform those tasks. Denying someone service at a business or public location because of a service animal is illegal, but ESAs have different protections. The only protection I have with her is in housing. I can't just take her out with me to class or something, but she's allowed to stay in my dorm with me. Does that make sense?"
Yang nodded slowly. "I think so. Do you have like, special paperwork that makes her an ESA or something?"
"Again, yes and no. I have a letter from my therapist saying that she's an accommodation for my mental illnesses, and acts as my ESA, but that doesn't necessarily like, register her as an ESA in some sort of registry. Well, okay, it's a bit more complicated than that." Blake tilted her head from side to side, trying to find the words. "The Student Disabilities Center has that paperwork, so that they have it for their records on who has an approved ESA on campus so reslife knows who is allowed to have animals, which is sort of like a registry, technically. Only technically though. Outside of colleges, there isn't some like, master registry or something. When I leave, a landlord can't deny me housing because I have her, but honestly, it'd just be easier to find a pet friendly apartment regardless."
Yang nodded with more confidence this time. "Okay, that makes sense." Gambol pushed her forehead against Yang's hand, demanding more attention as she continued to purr. "She's so cute, oh my god."
Blake smiled widely, pride beaming from inside of her. "She's an angel. She's definitely taking a liking to you. She doesn't even care about the toy anymore," she said with a small laugh.
"I've been told I'm really good with animals," Yang replied, giving Gambol some chin scratches.
"I wouldn't argue that." Blake smiled, looking down at the purring Gambol for a moment, then back up at Yang. "How's your first week back going?"
Yang's face fell instantly, her petting getting slower. "Not super great, if I'm being honest."
Blake frowned. "Do you want to talk about it? Or even just vent for a bit?"
Yang thought for a moment before giving a nod. "Do you mind if I close the door though? I don't want to risk Ruby hearing me… complaining, and telling our parents or getting worried or something."
"Sure," Blake said, standing up and putting the cat toy away.
Yang also stood, carefully removing the baby gate while doing her best to make sure the door didn't slam shut. After quickly shoving the baby gate between her legs, she managed to gently shut the door with her left hand.
"You can just put the gate against the wall behind the door," Blake told her, sitting cross legged on her futon. Gambol had followed, jumping up in front of Blake, but keeping an eye on Yang at the door.
Once Yang placed the gate against the wall, she dropped her messenger bag onto the ground next to the futon and sat on the other side of Gambol. She leaned against the wall, facing Blake, and crossed her legs in front of her. As soon as she was settled, Gambol climbed into her lap, headbutting Yang's stump.
Yang gave a small laugh at that. "Sorry Gambol, I can't use that one." She continued the petting session with her left hand.
"So what's happened this week?" Blake asked once Gambol was back to purring away.
"I…," Yang paused for a moment, trying to find the words. "I'm just really, really sick of the stares. It's nonstop. I mean hell, it's Thursday. I've had all of my classes at least twice by now, and literally everyone stares at me at any given opportunity. I'm walking in? Staring. I'm leaving? Staring. I answer a question? Staring. I sit in front of anyone? I can feel them staring, and sometimes I can see it in the reflection of my laptop screen, before I turn it on. It's exhausting."
"I'm sorry that's happening," Blake replied, frowning again. "People should know better by this point in their lives."
Yang simply shrugged. "I just…" she shook her head, taking a deep breath. "I thought I would just be able to put on a brave face and deal with it, but now I'm practically running out the door from every class, because I don't want to be there, and then just hiding away in my room until it's time for my next class."
"Do you have any friends who are still here from your first semester?"
Yang shook her head. "No, not really. I think there's like, one girl who's still here, but we weren't even that close. Just someone who used to live on my floor who I hung out with a few times at the beginning of the semester, but not really much beyond like, the first four weeks."
"Have you tried talking to anyone on the floor this year, or leaving your door open?"
"No, by the time I get back here I'm too exhausted to really try making new friends. Physically too, not just socially. This thing is draining," Yang said, moving her stump for emphasis.
Blake tilted her head. "What do you mean?"
"Twenty-four hours a day, my brain and body are trying to figure out why it isn't there anymore," Yang explained, slumping her shoulders. "It swells and shrinks, I get phantom pains and sensations at least once a day, more often when I'm stressed, and well, it hasn't exactly been a relaxing first week. I nap and eat a lot more than I used to because my body needs a lot more energy to just exist."
"I didn't know amputated limbs did all of that."
"It's a huge process just to live. It can be better or worse with a prosthetic, although that varies wildly based on a lot of factors. For me, it'd be a lot more difficult with little…," Yang hesitated, choosing her next words carefully. "I don't want to say benefit, because I know I would benefit from one in some way, but the technology just isn't where I feel like the positives outweigh the negatives, I guess? Well, it exists, but it's way too expensive, and my insurance won't cover the cyber prosthetics, only the mechanical models."
Blake simply nodded. "That makes total sense. If it's exhausting enough as it is, and you don't feel like it's worth it, then that's your choice to make."
Yang ran her hand along the length of Gambol's body, who seemed blissfully unaware of the serious nature of the topic at hand. "Yeah. Besides, the exhaustion or the lack of a hand isn't the thing that bothers me the most right now… It's the stares. It's not exactly like a prosthetic is going to stop that from happening."
Blake nodded again, thinking for a moment. "I can't pretend to be an expert on amputation, but I do know a thing or two about uncomfortable stares."
A puzzled look came across Yang's face. "Why would people stare at you?"
Blake simply raised her eyebrows and wiggled her top set of ears.
"Oh, right…" Yang replied quietly, a small blush rising on her cheeks. "Sorry, I honestly kind of forgot a lot of people aren't used to seeing Faunus every day."
"Yeah, it's a culture shock for a lot of people, with how many Faunus we have here at UV." Blake shook her head with a sigh. "It's always worse the first few weeks too, because there's a whole bunch of new freshmen who haven't really settled in and gotten used to actually being around a diverse population of people yet."
"How do you deal with it? The stares?"
"Honestly? I've never been very good at it," Blake admitted. "My freshman year, I tried to hide my ears with a bow for a little while, but that only lasted a couple of weeks, and got me a worse reaction than just… leaving them be. I used to just kind of glare or scowl at people when I caught them staring, which did work, but I don't think it's the best way to go about it anymore."
"Yeah, I've tried the glaring but I can't make myself do it consistently. I end up just trying to pretend I didn't notice them staring."
"I've been trying something new this year though," Blake said with a nod. "I've been trying to still let people know I've caught them and they shouldn't be doing that, but not by glaring. Instead, I try to smile and wave."
Yang tilted her head. "Smile and wave?"
Blake smirked. "It works really well. People get flustered, because they realize they've been caught staring, and they shouldn't be doing that. They either smile back and then look away, or just get really embarrassed and look away. Plus, I'm just trying to be… more approachable this year overall."
"Hmmm," Yang hummed, thinking for a moment. "I kind of like that. I might give it a shot."
"You'll have to tell me how it goes!"
"For ssssure," Yang yawned. She blinked a few times, shaking her head. "I think that's my body telling me it's time for a nap."
Blake simply nodded and smiled again. "I hope Gambol and I were able to help at all!"
Yang looked down at Gambol, who was still curled up in her lap. Gently, she began to push Gambol off with her hand. "Both of you definitely did. Venting to someone who actually listens is a very nice change of pace."
"Well, anytime you're having a bad day, you can always come by for some venting and cat time." Blake scooped up Gambol, who was resisting leaving Yang's lap, but allowed Blake to hold her in her arms instead. "Or even if it's just an okay day, and you want to make it better! Gambol has magic powers, I swear."
Yang laughed as she got up and grabbed her bag off of the ground. "I might just take you up on that offer. Thanks again!"
"Anytime," Blake said with a smile as she watched Yang walk out of the room, and close the door behind her.
Blake looked down at Gambol in her arms. "You're doing such an excellent job," she cooed, giving Gambol a small kiss on her forehead. Gambol let a small meow, nuzzling Blake's face.
"I know, I know," Blake laughed, nuzzling Gambol back. "You just want constant affection. I can't say I blame you."
She looked back up at the closed door, taking a deep breath. "I hope you like Yang, Gambol, because I have a feeling she'll be back."