Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Move in day- 10am

The long drive to college was filled with many mixed emotions. Sadness, excitement, longing, melancholy, etc. All these emotions battled in the car, making you feel incredibly conflicted about the path you chose for yourself. I mean, does anyone actually know what sociology is? Does anyone actually need a social worker? The uncertainty of the future weighed heavily on your mind as you approached the campus, wondering if you were making the right decision. Despite the doubts, you couldn't help but feel a spark of excitement at the prospect of new beginnings and opportunities awaiting you.

As you exit the beat-up SUV you borrowed from Mom, a person catches your eye. Well, the RGB lights on their wheelchair catch it first. The obvious nerd energy glows almost twice as bright as the wheels do, and you can make the bold assumption that they're there for the award-winning computer science programme. You think nothing of it, as your classes are on the opposite side of the school. Maybe you'll have a Gen Ed? Regardless, a group of what you can only assume to be athletes walks over to your car, rather beat but still smiling. The woman introduces herself first. "Hey, we're assigned to help the freshman move in. I'm Shelley, and this is Dunk." Dunk gives an encouraging wave, inviting you to hand them your giant bag of what's about to be all of your belongings for the next couple of months. The bag was an old postal bag left by an odd drone that shattered your window. They really need to get better at delivery services. As you walk with the group, Shelley enthusiastically describes the Student Athlete programme. As much as you want to pay attention, you find yourself zoning off and completely uninterested.

The walk feels too short, yet also too long as you enter the small dorm. You're relieved you're on the first floor, since what you saw online indicated that they usually only give the sought-after dorms to those with disabilities. When you enter, one side is already decorated in blacks and greens. The walls are adorned in a way that they almost look like a motherboard, and you cringe. If you have to share a room with *that* kind of CS major, you may lose it. You quickly start adorning your room with your decor, a stark difference separating the room. The bed on your roommate's side is lowered, which you had never seen in any of the model dorms. Coupled with the decor and convenience of the room, you conclude that it's probably the person you saw earlier. You pray that those wheels have an off switch.

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When you wake from a death-like sleep, you turn to look at the other side of the room. Mac is sitting casually at their desk, typing something that looks to not be all that important. He doesn't yet seem to notice you've woken up, so you space out looking in their direction. You wonder what time it is and debate whether to try to go back to sleep or start your day early. As you contemplate your next move, Mac finally looks up and greets you with a smile. "Good morning! Did I wake you up?" You startle, not fully awake enough to register that you can be perceived. "No, you're good," you muster, completely unaware if that made sense in the context of the question. Mac seems to take that response well, turning back to whatever they were writing. You turn to look at your phone, 6:30. You're not supposed to go to orientation until 9, so you have time to sleep in. You close your eyes, debating whether to drift back to sleep or start your day early. However, the choice is made for you as a loud lawn mower disrupts any thought process you could've had. You groan in frustration, realising that sleeping in is no longer an option. You groan loudly, causing Mac to stifle a giggle. "Yeah, get used to that. The first floor is always the loudest."
After an unpleasant awakening, you decide to go attempt the showers. As you make your way to the bathroom, you notice the communal living space is already bustling with activity, making you feel slightly overwhelmed by the new environment. There are people gathered around, all wearing the same blue shirt with the letters RA on the back. Considering there are only supposed to be 3 on each floor, you wonder why they've all decided to convene on the first floor. Regardless, you take an exceptionally low-quality shower, with water pressure that is barely adequate. As you dry off and get dressed, you overhear snippets of conversation about a mandatory meeting for all residents. You wonder how awkward it's going to be, icebreakers and all. Once you're back to your room, you put your showering items away and start on your makeup. Mac waves, glances at the time, and bolts. You blink, and he's gone. Huh. Weird.
At about 8:45, you start heading to the gymnasium where orientation is supposed to occur. You grab a complimentary muffin and take a seat next to 2 very chatty girls talking about what drinks they enjoy. There's definitely a speech happening, but you truly can't hear it over these 2 girls. It's going to be a long meeting. The muffin is surprisingly delicious, though. You don't truly fault them though, as you've already gone through this curriculum 2 other times. The first thing you learnt from college is that they really do not expect anything of the freshmen. The orientation continues with various speakers discussing campus resources and expectations, but you find it hard to focus with the ongoing chatter. Then, what can only be described as a horde of blue shirts and flags ushers freshmen back to their respective floors for a floor meeting. You sigh, knowing that this is just the beginning of a long night filled with forced icebreakers and awkward team-building activities
. As you follow the crowd back to your floor, you can't help but wonder if there's any way to escape this madness. Then you see your roommate, decked out in blue, carrying a "1" flag. They're an RA. You're rooming with an RA. What the hell. Any plans of freedom-based rule-breaking have left your body, leaving a sense of looming dread behind them. As you exchange a nervous glance with your roommate, you realise that your rebellious streak may need to be put on hold for the time being. The thought of being constantly monitored and potentially getting in trouble for breaking the rules weighs heavily on your mind as you reluctantly accept your fate as a resident under the watchful eye of an RA. Mac looks back at you with what has always been an "I'm supposed to make you feel welcome" smile. You can't help but wonder if Mac is truly as friendly as he seems or if he's just another authority figure forced to pretend to like you. Regardless, you suffer through the icebreakers and pay attention to the rules.

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Being the accidental roommate of an RA isn't as annoying as you'd imagined, as the black-haired individual offers to bring you along to a party in one of the upperclassmen dorms. "By my current analysis, I do believe you'd like to get out of this room and meet at least someone," they joke, reading you completely. After the floor meeting, you quickly realised that your worries of a regime in your room weren't even feasible. As mac immediately comes over to get to know you. You can't help getting lost in their eyes, something almost robotic lulling you into a sense of security. It's odd you feel so comfortable with someone you met less than 24 hours ago, and yet conversation feels natural. Granted, this person is a full-blown yapper and can talk about surprisingly almost anything with a decent level of background information. Their knowledge on a wide range of topics keeps you engaged and intrigued, making you feel like you've known them for much longer than just a day, and a party invite is definitely a more-than-roommates-level friendship. They bring you along to the upperclassmen dorms, where you see many people chatting with an infamous red solo cup. The music is at an acceptable volume, playing some weird 60s song that sounds like the kind of thing you'd hear at woodstock ('69, not '99.) Mac immediately makes their way over to a group of people huddled around a television playing "How It's Made", and it's now up to you to find your own group. You get a cup of a mystery drink and soon see a small dog with a collar that reads "Davi". You plop down next to the dog and lie on its side, drinking the sweet yet burning liquid inside your cup. The dog, Davi, seems content with your presence as you take in the atmosphere of the party. You wonder what Davi is here for, maybe as an ESA or another form of service animal. Regardless, Davi seems like the easiest person to hang out with here.
A few hours and many drinks later, you stumble over to Mac, visibly very inebriated. As you try to stumble through asking who Davi belongs to, you trip over their wheelchair and end up face first in their lap. Mac looks at you with either amusement or annoyance; you can't really tell. They don't move you, though, gently shifting their legs to let you lie there. You mumble an apology, feeling embarrassed and unsure of what to do next. Mac makes another unreadable face and calls one of the people they were watching television with to help them bring you back. A tall man with a very unique, almost flashy style picks you up and carries you back to the room. During the walk back you overhear bits and pieces of conversation while also half-asleep. "Telly, I know it was a ba-" "you know it's-" "yeah but-" and then you feel the warmth of the heated dorms. You're awake enough to be set down in the elevator, capably walking back to the dorm with Mac.
Once you enter your dorm, you can't help but stare intensely at your roommate. Their glasses emit a slight glow as they take them off for the night. "I'd like to change without an audience, if that's alright," they say, yet again with a mixed emotion you're too inebriated to place. You cover your face with a pillow, which causes a laugh from the other side of the room. As they change, you can't help but picture their bare chest, illuminated by the soft light filtering through the window. Your mind races with conflicting thoughts as you try to focus on something, anything else. Your thoughts continue to wander the unholy places, leaving you feeling both guilty and intrigued by the forbidden nature of your desires. After all, the scandal of a first-year and an RA would fuel the gossip mill for weeks to come. But as you try to push the thoughts away, a small part of you can't help but wonder what it would be like to give in to temptation. All the thinking aside, Mac comes up to your bed and reaches up to take the pillow off your now beet-red face. "I've been done for a while, you know," they say with a smirk, causing your heart to race even faster. As you try to come up with a response, they cut you off with their own comment. "You should definitely also change; you smell like a bar." Feeling embarrassed and flustered, you quickly jump out of bed to change your clothes. Mac's playful teasing lingers in your mind as you try to shake off the feeling of being caught off guard. You desperately fumble for your pyjamas before a pair of tattooed arms open your dresser for you. "Let me help you with that," they tease, tugging the bottom of your shirt. Your nerves head haywire as you process the implications of Mac seeing you in only underwear. Whether or not there's any flirting going on or if the help is laced in pity is unclear, yet you flush at the idea. You really can't get these clothes off either way, so you get down to their level and let them lift the shirt from your body.
As they assist you, you can't help but notice the warmth of their touch and the way their hands delicately handle your frame, as if you would shatter if they used too much force. They successfully get you into more comfortable clothes, debating how they'll get you into your lifted mattress. "Can you get into bed? I believe I am unable to assist you." You nod in understanding, grateful for their help and kindness. As you try to step up onto your bed, you end up fumbling many, many times. They watch tentatively and sigh. "Just get into my bed for the night; you are clearly too intoxicated for your own good." You reluctantly agree, realising that it's probably for the best given your current state. As they guide you to their bed, you can't help but feel the same stirring head re-enter your face. They lie with you, making sure you're well situated. In a bout of sleepiness and drunken courage, you lazily drape an arm over their body. They don't pull away, instead wrapping their arm around you in a comforting gesture. The warmth of their body against yours helps to calm the swirling chaos in your mind, allowing you to finally drift off into a peaceful sleep.