Chapter Text
The student looks tiny in Logan’s office visitor chair, a letter from the dean clutched in his fingers. Logan had received a frenzied email at 3 am after the student received his midterm deficiency notice and Logan invited him to meet during office hours the following morning. He looks panicked, and guilty, and a bunch of other things that Logan couldn't identify if he tried.
"What's going on?" Logan sighs, leaning forward to meet eyes with the smaller man. His eyes flick to Logans and then down.
"Nothing," The student says tightly, his bright hybrid tail flicking behind him, "I'm just stupid."
Logan shakes his head, leaning back into his chair, "No. That's not it."
"Yes. It is." The student says shakily, "I don't understand anything you're talking about, I'm here on a full ride I don't deserve and I don't even know what to do with it- I'm failing everything-"
The cat hybrid sniffles, wiping his little nose on his oversized sleeve.
"Sorry."
Logan just pushes a box of tissues towards him, waiting for him to pull it together. He does, slightly, gain his voice back. "You can't fix stupid. I'm stupid."
Logan was not only witness to, but on the front lines of those trying to get hybrids into higher education, but he'd failed to recognize how they'd adjust when they were granted it. Hybrids weren't often schooled as diligently as humans, yet the new law gave any hybrid with a high school degree a full ride to a state school. Some have been adjusting well but the majority have been overwhelmed. This isn't anywhere close to Logan's first meeting with a distressed hybrid. His mind leads him through the motions, tired and not looking forward to the week ahead.
"That's what teaching is, no?" Logan says calmly, "And you're taking a 200 level physics class, most people find that difficult."
The hybrid scoffs, anger peeking through his tears, "I shouldn't even be here."
This student drowns in his men’s small Walmart hoodie and jeans, but his friend wears specially tailored "pack" clothes, sticking out like a sore thumb in his earth toned tunic. Logan has curiously watched their dynamic, even though they both sit in the very back of the classroom.
"Why do you say that?" Logan asks patiently, pushing up his glasses, "I think you should be here."
The student bares his teeth but Logan can't find it in himself to be very frightened. He is smaller than most grown men are, lithe and sleek to mirror his animal counterpart. His friend, a rabbit hybrid, is even smaller, and quicker. Logan has always been very curious about hybrids, and was glad to be able to meet some, but they usually shy away from his conversation attempts.
"You're the only one," The student says miserably, glaring down at his letter, "I went to all my professors and they just said that if I fail then I wasn't meant to be here in the first place."
Logan hums in distaste, opening up his laptop to see which of his co-workers to avoid. He scrolls through his student list, refreshes his memory on the hybrid’s name, Cassidy Matthews, and then clicks onto his class list.
"Wait-" Cassidy seems to wake up from a sulking anger, "What are you doing?"
"It is an educators responsibility to educate, and it seems like some people aren't doing their job-"
"No!" Cassidy stands up and shuts the laptop from behind, nearly slamming it down onto Logan’s fingers. He snatches them to his chest and blinks at the hybrid, who blinks back.
Cassidy sits back in his seat, bounces a bit at the speed of the impact,"Sorry. I'm so sorry-"
"It's- fine." Logan says slowly, sitting up straighter, feeling as if he was awoken from a trance. Cassidy is shaking.
He's been afraid this whole time. At least he appears afraid. Logan purses his lips and wonders faintly why Cassidy came to him last.
"Uh- what-" He gestures to the laptop, the clack of it shutting so forcefully still echoing in his ears.
"They'd take it out on us. On me. Don't say anything." Cassidy says, and Logan is inclined to believe him; even as the idea is ugly and unthought of.
"Then what do you want to do?"
"I think maybe I should just drop out." Cassidy shrugs, either bitter or resigned, "Would be better for everyone.”
That has been happening, hybrids giving up in droves, running back to their packs. Logan fears that many people aren’t trying to help them so they don’t have to keep teaching them in the future, still stuck on barbaric trains of thought about hybrid mental capacity. It annoys Logan immensely that his work could be undone so quickly, simply because students were denied help and resources.
“Or, you could ask for help,” Logan says, and when Cassidy opens his mouth to retort, “From me. Help from me. I want to help you pass.”
Cassidy’s mouth snaps shut and his ears flatten against his head. Logan doesn’t exactly know what that means but it doesn’t seem particularly good.
“Why?” He accuses, pulling his legs onto the chair with him, “What will you make me do?”
“Uh,” Logan looks away awkwardly, “It’s my job and I want you to succeed. And. Study?”
Cassidy pauses, and then tilts his head, looking embarrassed, “Oh.”
“We could meet bi-weekly, starting tomorrow,” Logan starts speaking again, feeling the momentum of the words pull the sentences out of his mouth, spur him into motion like an automaton. He opens his drawer and pulls out an empty calendar and pulls a pen out of his breast pocket, circling the times in which he is free. “You should look over this schedule, and email me what times will be good for you, and I’ll block you in.”
Cassidy unfolds his body and takes the paper, stares at it for a few moments, before pulling distrustful eyes back up to Logan’s face. “I didn’t say I would do it.”
Logan’s momentum is halted. This whole interaction is throwing him off. He’s been told by his family that he acts like a robot, and interactions like this briefly convince Logan that he must be one. How he observes the world, how he speaks, how he acts. It’s very isolating in how he perceives himself as strange in comparison to everyone else around him.
“Oh. Will you?” Logan finally forces out, trying not to lose eye contact but failing, staring beyond his shoulder and at the seam connecting two walls and a ceiling. Logan likes his office. It is warm, with a fireplace and comfy chairs and dark wood on his desk, and neatly aligned paper and pens. It’s too bad barely anyone comes to visit him for help.
Cassidy stares at the calendar, and then back at Logan’s face. As if he’s searching for something. His tail flicks behind him in what appears to be agitation. He folds the paper into quarters and stuffs it into his pocket, along with his hands. He then nearly folds himself over and whispers,
“Fine.”
Logan claps his hands together with a small smile. “Excellent.”
He’s excited. He likes teaching one on one, because he feels like it’s actual teaching instead of throwing information at a room full of people and hoping they’re paying attention. Cassidy looks at him, the look in his eyes a lot different than when he came in, when he was crying, upset, scared. Logan would think that his attempts to help would be comforting, since he’d been turned away so many times before, but it instead seemed to upset him. Logan is confused, but he offers Cassidy a piece of chocolate on his way out, and he accepts it. The door slams closed behind him. Logan wonders if he did something wrong.
He plans lessons for the rest of the night, and then goes home to his cold, empty house.
He goes to sleep so he doesn’t have to turn the heat on.