The terms were set, Roy had until the next school term to improve his grades and attitude. Jason was informed that Roy needed someone to motivate him, to help guide him through the work-loads. Roy's capability was never an issue. He could definitely complete the tasks set, he just rarely did. Roy was actually thankful that that particular piece of information was shared with his tutor, at least now the kid wouldn't think he was a total dumbass who didn't know shit from clay. But motivation was something that Roy found didn't come easy, especially when it came to academia.
But, in truth, Roy wasn't really committed to anything these days.
He liked drumming. It was escapism at the very least. To be a good drummer, you need to have rhythm, it's something you either have or you don't. Techniques can be learnt and practice earns improvement, but if you don't have rhythm you should just quit while you're ahead. Roy could drum. He was proud of it, he was skilled, he enjoyed it. No one could take it away from him. The weight of the sticks in his hands made him grounded, the vibrations as they traveled through the skins made him feel alive. Music was universal, a form of self-expression unlike any other. Roy had so much locked inside that he couldn't say, had no outlet for. He often lost himself in any number of his favourite songs. He took his frustrations out on his drum kit. It was one of the only things that ever held his attention anymore.
At some point, he'd also developed a habit for twirling the sticks when nervous or agitated, and he was twirling them furiously now. Mr Wilson had ushered them from the office rather abruptly after the initial introduction. It had been awkward and stilted but Jason and Roy had shaken hands. They were now stood opposite one another, both with their heads down; Roy's drumsticks were spinning and Jason's grip was clenching on the clasp of his bag.
Roy cleared his throat and quickly shoved his drumsticks into his back pocket, before turning to fully address the other boy. He knew this arrangement was unavoidable, but he didn't have to pretend to like it. He certainly didn't want to be standing around awkwardly waiting for one of them to figure out something to say. He opened his mouth to speak but halted abruptly when he saw the look on Jason's face. The other boy was frowning slightly, an irritated furrow adorned his brow. Roy wondered what he had to be irritated about, it wasn't like he was being forced into tutoring. Finally, Jason looked up, his gaze snapping to Roy's.
"Okay, look, I know you don't want to do this. But, this is gonna look really good on my college application. So, I'm committed to seeing this through. You don't have to like me. I don't expect us to be friends. But, I guess I wanted you to know that I'm taking this seriously, if you are."
Roy wasn't expecting the other boy to say much to him at all, let alone let out the firm, little rant. He appreciated Jason's upfront and no-nonsense attitude, it was refreshing to say the least. Anything that Roy may have said died before he could give voice to it, he flashed him a smirk, almost unable to help himself. A small part of him wanted to see if he could push his luck with this kid, but he seemed earnest enough. Roy couldn't ignore the fact that there was something about Jason that got his back up a little. Perhaps it was the way that Jason so obviously had set ambitions, had his shit together. Maybe Roy felt a little inferior in the face of it.
Roy sometimes felt that he was at war with himself. If he succeeded in school then maybe Ollie would be proud of him. But also, fuck Ollie anyway, why should he have to proof anything to him? And maybe if Roy really destroyed himself one day, Oliver would notice what his absence had done. Maybe it would hurt him.
It was a twisted logic. On some level Roy knew that he was only hurting himself in the long-run. But, Roy couldn't help but think about how happy he'd been before Oliver had taken him in, not that he wasn't grateful for all that Oliver had done, it was just that Roy didn't fit in this way of living. It just wasn't him. He sometimes felt like he stuck out like a sore thumb, that he was wearing some neon sign. Even though there was nothing about his outward appearance that would declare 'outsider', that didn't mean he didn't still feel like one.
And now this Jason kid was stood there talking about college and taking things seriously when he was 15 years old and born with a silver spoon in his mouth. No fucking way.
"Y'know what, kid? Fine. I'mma do this 'cause I don't much have a choice. But, don't expect shit from me, I don't do well with expectation, and I don't need some stuck-up brat dictating to me."
Roy knew the words were harsh even as he was saying them, but he often fell into the trap of making himself angry and lashing out with it. Jason didn't deserve his sharp tone, had done nothing to warrant the insult.
Roy clamped his teeth down on his bottom lip, unwilling to say more and too stubborn to take the words back. He saw a flicker of something in Jason's eyes, a glint of something hard as flint. The younger boy's mouth twisted into a grim frown. He looked pissed, a little sad, but mostly just reserved. He regarded Roy with an unfathomable expression, his eyes still like steel. And Roy simply scoffed and made to turn away, he threw an off-hand "see you around" over his shoulder. He didn't look back.