Chapter Text
every year, dozens of students pursue higher education courses and get in their dream universities, their first days are always special. it’s a fresh start to a whole empty chapter in their lives, after all.
though, for some unknown reason, some people’s first day is heavy with anxiety and light dissociation. their mind goes into a loop that consists of too much ideas to no ideas, regardless of how perfect their life seems.
regardless of how high their grades were, how much people wave at them on a daily basis, and despite how privileged they are to be in such a place. because even perfection isn’t enough—halfway through, it starts to become more of a vague concept than a true accomplishable goal.
to do list:
- spend too much time looking at yourself in the mirror and think about what you need to improve about yourself.
- everything else??
he finds himself drifting into thoughts—leaning into old habits, before his chain of thoughts was crushed by the sound of a drawer shutting with more force than needed. a lot more force—enough to startle. quackity’s hands make their way up from where they were and puts his head in his hand, a sigh left his mouth, bordering a groan.
“o sweet and kind schlatt, would you be quiet, please? some of us like, actually enjoy the peace in quietness.” he calls dramatically, hearing schlatt grumble a swear under his breath in response.
“cut that goddamn crap, dude. you were staring into nothing like life was sucked out of you for a sec. jesus, fuck. is this the type of shit i’m gonna be dealing with for being your roommate?” schlatt exhales as he pinches the bridge of his nose.
“i’m concentrating, dipshit! and you did not have to physically abuse your drawer.” quackity immediately thinks of an excuse that neither of them actually buys but is ridiculous enough for them to simply move on from the topic. “totally ruined my moment.” he rolls his eyes, as if truly offended.
“god forbid i don’t wanna watch you freeze into a statue while you daydream, or whatever fucking bullshit you call it.” schlatt mumbled before hopping into his bed. he had finished unpacking his bags. turns out you can do a lot of things with your time if you don’t spend half of it out of the world.
“oh my god, schlatt. are you like, not emotionally moved by any of this? at all? moving on, starting over?” he insisted, still staring at the same hoodie he was meant to set in the closet far too long ago before he had gotten distracted. he actually gets himself to do a thing.
schlatt hums for a moment like he’s actually considering an answer. “i guess it’s different, yeah, but not a crazy switch. you’re taking it way too seriously, man.”
quackity sighs. what a way to kill the fucking mood. he thought about what schlatt said, but immediately dissmissed the thought. he will not let schlatt’s pessimism ruin this for him. he continues unpacking his clothes and neatly placing them in the closet.
“does it feel nice? finally being back in NY?” he huffed the question as he sat down on the stool by his desk, having finished his task.
“fuck no, it’s even more expensive than i remember.” schlatt answered with little hesitation as he flexed his shoulders back. it’s painful to look at, actually.
quackity groans before getting up again. “ugh, you fucking suck, man.” he complained, walking towards the door and unlocking it with the card.
schlatt just shrugs in response.
when quackity closes the door behind him he feels just a little bit overwhelmed with the sound of students in the back, buzzing like background noise.
he walks around the hallways with his backpack sliding up one shoulder. almost drops it when he was approached.
“quackity! holy shit quackity, you fucking made it, dude!” he recognises the voice before he even turns, because it was the one and only: katie brooklyn.
“oh my— what the fuck, katie! gosh, you made it too!” he gasps and a wide smile takes over his face. katie does a little spin and quackity is cheering.
“.. y’all are acting like you just got out from war, the fuck?” a brunette next to katie looks at them unimpressed, scrolling on his phone.
katie paused and turned at the guy, leaning her elbow on his shoulder and smiling. “q, this is ewron! he’s my roomie.” she looks back at ewron and notice’s he’s not paying attention, so she flicks his forehead and takes away the phone. “ewron! that is quackity—we are old friends. be nice to him.”
“hi ewron.” quackity says awkwardly, still smiling.
“alexis quackity, i’ve heard good things about you.”
“just q’s fine, really—”
“very cute.” he looks at quackity through his eyelashes then glances at katie and snatches his phone, before walking away like the interaction did not happen.
“.. uh— huh??” quackity mumbled with confusion as he tried to ignore the heat crawling up his neck.
“he’s tryna be nonchalant or whatever, don’t mind him.” katie shrugged with a chuckle, nudging quackity with her elbow once ewron had fully left the scene and moved into whatever direction was important enough to ditch them for. “fuckin’ manwhore, dude.”
“jesus— that was so uncalled for, katie! you don’t go making enemies on day fucking one.” quackity argued, despite his laughing. catching his breath rather quickly.
“nah, he totally earned it.” she waved her hand dismissively. “he tried flirting with nearly everyone, ergo: he’s a manwhore.”
“way to slutshame.. and uh, ergo? what, you’re suddenly an english major? i thought business students were dumb.” he teased with a completely serious voice. what a bitch.
“you can’t rage bait me, q. it’s not even a big word.” she nudged him again. someone’s touchy today? “aaaanyway, now, i dunno what your schedule looks like, but our first lecture is in like—ten minutes? maybe fifteen, if i’m lucky. uh, lost track after i got lost in campus the second time.
“you got lost—twice!—when we’ve barely been here for an hour? are you purposely trying to set a new world record?”
“why are you just continuously hating on me! and here i was gonna offer you to walk with me to the lecture hall. what the fuck, dude.”
“this seems like sabotage, if i’m being honest. do you even know if we share the same schedule today, though?”
katie shrugs after thinking about it for a moment. “i don’t really think you’d have economics on any day.” she says before pushing herself off the wall and waving goodbye. “good luck on whatever bullshit you're doing!”
he smiles faintly as he watches her leave while adjusting the bag on his shoulder, deciding he should make his way too.
he walks by himself towards the lecture hall, passing by clusters of students. some of them sat on the floor (what the fuck) and looking like they already regret ever making any of the decisions in their life that lead them here. the noise was constant, overlapping over itself.
but he was generally great with noise, he learned how to block it into background noise—but that didn’t mean this felt exactly comfortable.
he exhales and reminds himself to keep the good energy flowing. this has to be clean.
the room is surprisingly much bigger than he thought, with rows of unoccupied seats. he looks around hesitantly at the rows of seats before he settles on one not too close to the front.
he drops his bag on the floor by the stool and huffs a sigh, pulling out a notebook. he taps his pen against the page, eyes drifting anywhere but the page in hand.
quackity realises he is probably being rude, sitting to a random guy without even acknowledging him yet. well, he hasn’t exactly been acknowledged either, but.. i mean the guy is on his phone, he obviously won’t notice someone sitting next to him. actually, that sounds like a red flag. what level of dissociation is this?
and even worse, what kind of style is this? his entire essence is just radiating the energy of unwashed clothes and cancer with edible chemicals, if that exists. and he looks just bored. like, “‘i dont give a fuck’er” type of bored. (??)
he shrugs the thoughts off before he could spend too long thinking about spitting a word and never doing so, and he wipes off the criticism off his head. “hey,” he starts. “im quackity—short for q. no, i mean, q for short. sorry! aha. fuck..” he fumbles on his words as he tries to remain very chill. very not working.
the guy glances up and looks at him up and down like he’s fucking grading him. with that drip? absolutely not. “hi.” and he’s very responsive too! just amazing.
quackity tells himself he should not try to indulge in some conversation or whatever because this guy does not look like he’s here for a chat. or here for studying, either.
regardless, he has made it his mission to befriend him and he’s committed. he smiles politely. “soo, what’s up? honestly i’ve heard so much horrifying bullshit about this class and it’s probably getting to me.”
“yeah, uh, i can.. see that.” he squints a little bit as if his sight was poor, eyes flickering before sighing. “you’re like, bro, you look stressed as shit.” he says. uh, at least he’s not like.. hostile??
“oh, no! no no no, that’s just my normal face. you better get used to it already, hmmm?” he makes an attempt at teasing the stranger he just met. he does not laugh. aw man.
“not really, unless we’re interacting again.” he shrugs before looking back at his phone again. quackity hears his accent dropping in the words occasionally—not too sharp, but very much there.
“oh uhhh, yeah.. yeah!” quackity lets out a small laugh like a fucking idiot before picking up the pen again and flipping it between his fingers.
a moment of awkward silence passes and quackity looks at his empty notebook.
the other next to him suddenly brings the phone closer to himself and starts talking. “mam wyjebane. ni chuja nie zapłacę. umówiliśmy się na poniedziałek!” he says before pausing, his tone bordering on frustration.
he then sighs before adding in a deadpanned expression. “ogarnij dupe.”
quackity looks silently at the guy after.. all of that. he looks casual, like whatever that seemed to frustrate him just seconds ago was a regular occurance. conclusions: 1. he’s mentally ill (wtf is up with the mood swings) 2. he’s definitely not american.
“soooo, umm, you’re not from here—where are you from? that sounded like a slavic language.” quackity asked him eventually while still playing with the pen in his hand.
“dude, are you a spy? why do you wanna know where i’m from. the hell?” he looks up from his phone and glances at quackity. was that sarcasm? “poland.” .. probably.
“ohh!” he exclaimed before clearing his throat. “dzi— uhh.. dzień dobry!” quackity says, very proudly.
“.. brzmisz tak kurewsko głupio. annoyingly enthusiastic.” he chuckles at quackity’s attempt at saying something. it.. wasn’t that bad, okay! it’s just obviously poor compared to a native.
“don’t swear at me in a language i don’t understand! that’s just a dick move. i’m leaving!”
“you literally can. you’re the one who decided to sit next to me.”
“don’t you want a new friend? come onnnnn.”
“jesus, fine. have my greatest apologies. happy?” he groans before dropping his phone on the desk and finally fully facing him. “now what do you want?”
“uhh, nothing. i just like meeting people.” quackity casually shrugs.
he just nods back and keeps looking at him. quackity looks away and instead focuses on the empty page in front of him. he writes “intro stats” on the top.
a few more moments of silence pass before the professor walks in, setting her bag down and looking at the half empty room with mild disappointment. she adjusts her tie before finally speaking. “welcome to intro to statistics.” she starts, and her voice echoing across the hall slightly.
“looks like there’s.. not many of you today, but for those who did show up, good job! the first lecture is the most important.” buuuullshit.
———————————————————————
by the time the professor was leaving, most of the students were losing focus in the topic as a whole. quackity can’t blame them, math sucks.
before leaving, he turns to— he just remembered that he hadn’t gotten his name yet. he turns to the polish guy next to him and taps his shoulder to get the attention. because unfortunately, this guy won’t leave his fucking phone.
“hey, uh, i figured you could probably make use of some notes because um.. you know, you doing your stuff. so like, if you uhh.. if i have any if your contacts to send ‘em to ya, that’d be nice—”
“so you just want my number?”
“well, no, you need the notes.”
“hm, fair.”
he takes quackity’s pen and grabs his arm, his grip bordering rough, writing the number on it. quackity froze in his place for a moment before pulling away after he had finished writing.
“you uh.. could’ve just wrote it on paper. we have that.”
“true.
“.. moving forward.. uh, what do i save you as?”
“multi.”
“.multi? why?”
“cause it’s my name, duh?”