Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. Sigh. Seriously, I'm really not creative like that.

Wes sat down at his desk with a sigh. It had been a long day, and it was only 4pm. He pulled an overfilled folder from his backpack, and thwopped it down in front of him. So much to be done. The history, science and literature assignments should be okay, but the math…Wes had always known, it seemed, that he was good at math, but this didn't mean it didn't require effort on his part. Math was a system of relating numbers to each other, of representing problems in a concise way, of making everything work together and make sense. When he was ready and focused, everything was clear, and problem solutions seemed to flow from his mind out his pencil. He enjoyed finding that space in his mind; he always felt capable and productive and pleased with feeling that he really understood.

Other times, it wasn't quite like that. And those times were happening more and more often, it seemed. And happening today. That "math zone" in his brain that he depended on for working math problems, felt off-limits, or unachievable, somehow. This sense of…something he couldn't quite name, but that almost felt like dread. But it was strong, and it filled his whole mind when he tried to do his work. It didn't make sense, and he didn't know what to do about it but hope it went away.

But it sometimes seemed like this feeling was (far from diminishing) becoming the norm, although that thought tended to trigger something that bordered on terror (as much of an over-reaction as that seems). It's not like it was that bad to not feel like doing math, but the betrayal of his mind, and the inability to apply himself to his work properly was really a pretty big deal in the long run. What if this feeling started affecting all aspects of his life? What if he couldn't cope academically anymore? What would that mean? What would he mean? How could he live in this world where an education is absolutely essential (and how might this affect his future career? How could he have a wife and kids?) And his thoughts went spiraling on…

Sometimes he felt this way in meetings. Meetings with teachers who liked him, respected his intelligence, but wanted more from him in certain aspects of his work. They were just trying to help, but the stress of the meetings didn't help.

And then sometimes his thoughts would wander outside his own immediate situation. He wasn't just an individual with schoolwork to do, he was a whole person, with a family, with friends, and all the relational complexities that invariably accompany these things. And Wes wasn't just a part of a family, but he was the oldest child. That means a lot more once you've lived through your mother's cancer and death when you were only fifteen years old.

Wes's younger sister, Nora, and his little brothers, Devin and Adam, often found their way into his mind, even when he was far away at school. Nora was dating that guy she liked so much, even though nobody approved of him; Devin was isolating himself and living off mac 'n cheese, and Adam…Adam had only been five, and it was hard to know exactly what went on in his little head. Wes knew he wasn't any of their parent, but with his dad so distant, he was aware that he needed to step up more as the oldest. Only, it seemed these days to be so difficult. When he thought about his siblings, he felt so helpless that he literally felt weary in his bones. He wished he could rely on his dad to take care of them, but what with the yelling, the scolding, and the new, peppy girlfriend on the scene, that just wasn't going to happen. Of course, at least he didn't have to worry that his siblings weren't fed and physically safe, but…there's still plenty of room for worry beyond that.

It didn't get better thinking about his friends. Jeff was under his eye, because he was pretty sure the guy was restricting his eating again, and that was only likely to deteriorate. He wasn't sure, but he was worried the younger boy might be cutting again. David was one of his closest friends, but he worried about him, too. David had been acting strangely; he'd had a crush on a girl who wasn't interested, and taken to declaring that he "needed to be alone" in order to get over her. It had been over two weeks since he'd had more than a few words with the guy. He suspected some sort of eating disorder there, too; more on the binging/purging side of things though, although he just didn't feel he knew enough for sure to confront his friend. Why? Well, in part because of this feeling that made him just terrified to try to deal with such a thing himself. He didn't know anything about those things. What good could he do? He'd probably just make it worse, anyways. The adults in David's life had to be checking on him, right?

But then he worried. Maybe this was his responsibility. Maybe nobody else would step up. Isn't that what friends do? But while he had always had friends, ever since Steven had moved away in grade school, he'd never felt super close to any one person. Never having that particular bond meant he'd never discussed anything especially tough or embarrassing with anyone. He felt entirely like a fish out of water even thinking about having a conversation like that with someone.

He'd certainly never discussed anything like that about himself with anyone else. Not about how he would bike as fast as possible to feel that muscle burn, so he could forget for a few minutes about his accumulating late math papers. Not about how he trembled all over after having an argument with his dad on weekends at home. Not about how he really couldn't see how he could continue on and make it through college and work a job, the way things were going. Not about this weird thing his mind did when trying to work math problems. Not about how exhausted he felt most of the time, even when he'd had sleep. Not about how he'd dig his thumbnail into the fleshy part of his finger from time to time throughout the day, hard enough to hurt but not hard enough to break the skin. Nobody noticed these things or tried to talk to him, so how could he know how to do so for anyone else?

Wes sighed. So much he was failing at. Not least (though certainly not worst), this pile of math worksheets staring him in the face. He made a loose fist with his left hand and dug his thumbnail in, firmly but not roughly. Shifted slightly to a fresh spot. His second sigh was deeper. He didn't know if doing this made him feel better, exactly, but it seemed to allow him a moment to refocus.

Bending his head over the page, he tried not to go down a particular trail of thought. The one where he acknowledged that he was pleased he had chosen a way of maintaining control over himself, when needed, that nobody could notice. The marks lasted only a few minutes, and the motion was subtle enough he could center himself that way nearly anywhere without drawing attention. Occasionally he wondered if it would be better to be caught, if someone could tell him some better way to cope. But this really didn't seem that bad (it did, but it didn't), and he wasn't convinced any "better" way would be something he could deal with. Plus, how could he possibly deal with having anyone see him that way? It wasn't as though he would see anyone else as less for doing such a thing, but he absolutely couldn't shake the feeling that to be seen that way would be just awful. It would make everything that much worse. He knew there was something irrational there, but he never could make it work right. He didn't want anyone to know, because they could only treat him differently or the same; to be treated differently seemed terrible, but if they treated him the same, it would feel as though they didn't care. Better to keep it to himself.

Agh, he hated how his mind went down these rabbit trails. Sometimes a deadline helped with the focusing, and this was due tomorrow. One more apparent fist-clench, and Wes plowed through, inch by inch. Then he searched through his dvds until he found Mr. and Mrs. Smith, the one where they were spies and did a lot of shooting. He didn't really enjoy this type of violent movie, but some nights he just needed to lose himself in something mindless, and this pretty much fit the bill.