Title: Creeping On A Stranger
Word Count: 4,444
Summary: Seblaine Week 2014: Day 1 (Alternative Meeting). Sebastian has always had a habit of getting in the way and making a nuisance of himself. Since his little sister had gotten sick when he was eleven, he has spent years trying to gain back the attention of his parents.
Disclaimer: I am in no way associated with Glee, FOX, Ryan Murphy or anything else related to the FOX universe.
Warnings/Spoilers: None in particular for this chapter.

Sebastian tried to stay as positive as possible throughout the week, attempting to turn up to all his classes and complete the work that was assigned.

The key words, of course, are tried and attempted.

As the week progressed, he failed to exchange words or even looks with Clarington or Montgomery. Sharing space with someone you had no interest in talking to because they were a rage-fuelled jackass didn't make him particularly willing to open his mouth and tickle the dragon into awakening. Montgomery had kept his distance, although Sebastian wasn't sure if that's because he was expected to break down and beg for Montgomery's help or the other boy had moved on to other, better, people. It wasn't as though Sebastian was interested in confiding in him.

As the week progressed, the food in his mouth tasted increasingly ashy and the mouthfuls became harder to swallow again. He noticed when he was holding his fork that it was shaking, and then realised his hands were trembling. It had also led to some terrible note-taking in class when his pen wasn't controlled in his fingers. He supposed he could get away with it if only because it was a school for boys and boys generally didn't have good handwriting, but he knew he'd once been capable of better and wondered if it had anything to do with how out of practice he was. He refused to consider that it had anything to do with drinking or smoking the past few years.

As the week progressed, he found he was increasingly out of his depth with the content across all his subjects. Subjects he'd been good at in the public system now became subjects he hated the most because nothing was familiar. Subjects he hadn't been so great at before coming to Dalton were now even more abysmal. He was tired, frustrated, and had entertained thoughts of running away from the school on more than one occasion.

As the week progressed, he seemed to have developed a habit of getting bathroom passes and then disappearing for an hour rather than a few minutes. He knew such antics weren't going to be tolerated long, but while he had the opportunity, he figured he ought to take it.

The only good thing he could say about his behaviour recently was that at least he wasn't annoying in class. There were a couple of boys who seemed to struggle to stay still, who were constantly fiddling with their blazer or their tie or tapping their pen against the desk. He bit his tongue from snapping at them to be quiet but knew, as he faced the front and watched unfamiliar words and terms get put on the whiteboard, that his silence was only because he had no idea about anything so any contribution would just make him look like a fool. He could do without being laughed at.

Blaine called twice but Sebastian felt distant as he offered many monosyllabic answers. He wondered if Blaine had his own mobile yet and could text, but then though he probably would be doing that already. It made him wonder if his mother hadn't visited yet in which case… His mother only visited him once a week? It made him sad and he wished he could get out of school to visit Blaine and offer the boy some company again.

On Friday, rather than try to ask for a pass out of French, a note comes for him from Dean William James.

Well then.

He packs up his book and pen and heads out the door, taking a few wrong turns – seriously, this place needs signs and arrows and floor plan maps at every intersection – before he arrives. The receptionist waves him through so he enters the office.

"Ah, Sebastian!" James shifts his attention away from typing on a small laptop and removes his glasses from the tip of his nose. "Come in. Have a seat."

Sebastian feels wary as he adjusts the strap on his bag, losing some of his swagger under the clear eyes of the principal. He'd figures his behaviour wasn't going to be be tolerated long, but he had hoped it would be more than a week…

"How are you settling in?" James asks, hands clasped across his stomach. His thinning grey hair and shiny face is the picture of friendliness, but Sebastian doesn't trust him. Probably because of his position in the school.

"Fine, Sir," he mutters, his gaze drifting to the plastic triangle on the front of James' desk and wondering if his first name is Dean rather than his job title.

"'Fine'? So you've made friends? Understood your class content?"

He scowls and keeps his eyes lowered, avoiding any form of response because this is just like with his parents – only he can't speak sharply here. He's not sure what would happen if he got expelled in his first week, but he doesn't think the result would be pretty. He'd probably not be allowed to live at home anymore. Being turfed onto the streets in the second week of January isn't high on his priority list.

"Sebastian, I'd like to make a suggestion to you and you're welcome to tell me I'm an old busybody if you like," the principal says, too easily for Sebastian to believe there wouldn't be consequences if he did just do that. "I'd like you to find a teacher on staff that could mentor you. They can be anyone at all, young or old, male or female, but I'd like you to be responsible for figuring that out. I'd like you to have someone in the school that you feel you can trust, that can-"

"I'm never going to trust someone on the school faculty," Sebastian interrupts before he can stop himself. His glare has deepened at the thought of talking to someone who has power over him, at a teacher who might fail him in a subject just because he sucks at it.

James' mouth twitches, his eyes scanning Sebastian's face. "Is it because you think someone with authority will express their disappointment in you? Or because they might report back to me?"

Sebastian pauses to consider it, stubbornly glowering at James' desk. He wondered if it would catch fire if he tried to wave his lighter over it. It might feel like a victory if he burned the school down starting with the principal's office. "I don't know. Both. Neither."

James hums and leans forward in his chair, his hands and elbows resting on the table. "I could come down hard on you, Sebastian. I could say that your truancy of classes would lead to a suspension, although that's pointless given we're a boarding school. I could put you on a monitoring sheet so teachers know behaviours you exhibit and complete a form that tells you and me whether you're learning to curb them."

Sebastian increasingly thinks he hates this guy. He seems all nice and friendly but underneath…. Underneath he's just as slimy as any other teacher and it reminds Sebastian why he never planned on trusting any teacher or student in this godforsaken place.

"I could also say that unless your behaviour improves, then any weekend privileges you may earn would be reduced. The loss of such privileges may be an effective way to obtain improved behaviour as it would minimise your opportunity to leave and see your sister."

Sebastian raises his head, his gaze narrowing at the smug bastard in front of him. He hadn't even known there was such a thing as 'weekend privileges' and can only imagine getting out for a few hours to visit Lillian or Blaine or Terry. "If you're going to use my sister as a bargaining chip-"

"You're more likely to act out because you're angry at me for using her?" James suggests, his eyes sparkling and his mouth in a wide, friendly smile that makes Sebastian's skin crawl. He doesn't respond because he's not sure how he was going to end his sentence. He can't get physical with the principal the same way he had with Clarington. "This isn't my first day at the rodeo, Sebastian. You aren't my first student to come in and be unhappy, or to have a lot going on beyond the gates that makes your interest in school limited."

Honestly, Sebastian doesn't even care if there have been other people with shit lives. He's a teenage boy who has just wanted the attention of his parents for years. Now he's been sent across town to get out of their house. He has no access to his sister or his friends and he doesn't understand the work in class. If anyone had a shittier life than him, it's not going to magically make him feel better for being a selfish prick.

"What about if a mentor was an upperclassman? Would you trust another student more than a teacher?" James says, returning to the original topic of conversation.

Sebastian wonders why the idea of a mentor is so important. He knows vaguely what they are but he's never had one in the past, never needed someone older and wiser to take him under their wing until he's strong enough to fly on his own. It seems ridiculous and unnecessary to have someone that he's meant to talk to when he's never talked to anyone in his life.

He inclines his head to James' suggestion just to appease him, because he might, slightly, trust a student more than a teacher. He thinks of how he talked a little to Montgomery and he talks to Blaine sometimes, even though Blaine is younger.

"Then perhaps that's something to investigate," James murmurs, writing something down in front of him. Sebastian wants to stand up and demand to know what it is that he's said or done which is so fascinating. He feels more and more like this is a session with a shrink. He can see James' head raise from the corner of his eyes, the relatively neutral expression on his face. "Here's what I'm going to say to you, Sebastian. Are you listening?"

"Yeah…"

"You're a capable, smart kid who has gotten a little lost in recent years. Who could blame you? I wouldn't put a high value on education either if I was in your position."

Sebastian slowly raises his head, a frown pulling his eyebrows together. He's aware of the ticking clock somewhere in the room as the silence stretches into a gulf between them. Is this a joke? What the fuck is James playing at making statements about him when the principal doesn't even know him?

"I think you have a tendency to want to hide that you're not doing so well and I respect that, because men admitting weakness is pretty unusual."

Sebastian grimaces and looks to the side. This sounds like a shrink giving an assessment on his behaviour and personality rather than a principal. He's suspicious that everything being said is a load of crap, used to try and get him to improve his shitty disposition.

"Yet I also think that you can do a great many things here which will exceed the wildest hopes and dreams you might have for yourself right now, Sebastian. There's nothing wrong with being afraid and defensive, but you don't have to walk a lonely path."

Sebastian's thoughts drift to Blaine with that statement and he wonders what the boy is doing. In the conversation on Wednesday, Blaine reported that his doctor wanted to move him to the rehab unit in the next couple of weeks to start building strength in his arm and leg again. He wishes he could be there to watch and offer support, to be Blaine's cheer person the way Blaine has tried to be a motivator to him this week. If he had access to weekend privileges, maybe he could visit Blaine and Lillian and make sure they both knew how much he cared about them.

"I'd like you to try talking to one new person every day. Just one at any point throughout the day. It can be a hello in the morning or a goodnight at dinner. It could be to ask someone for a pen, even if you already have your own." James has these irritating brown eyes that seem to be sparkling with amusement at his own plans, like he was taking great joy in putting Sebastian in positions that would make him desperately uncomfortable. "From next week, rather than obtaining bathroom passes, if you're wishing to get out of class for whatever reason, I'd like you to come here. I won't get you into trouble or note down how many times it happens, but this is a… Consider this a safe place where you can retreat to if you need some time to yourself."

Sebastian wonders if the reason for that offer is simply so he'll stop seeking bathroom passes. It almost makes him want to hurl, so he supposes it's an effective enough offer. Why can't the principal just find someone else to dote on and make into a charity case? He can't be the only new student starting mid-year, nor can he be the only one with external problems. James had said as much.

James gives him a long, measured stare that makes Sebastian's skin crawl. Is he meant to all to his knees and agree to the demands? Is he meant to lose his composure and start weeping, lamenting the illness that ravages his sister and explaining that his behaviour is because of the lack of parental figures in his life? Is he meant to throw something, explode with anger so he appears less like the numb, empty, blank slate that he feels? Is he mean to bargain for something, bartering his behaviour for his sister until James agrees that yes, he'll come along nicely?

Without waiting for the dismissal, he picks up his bag and walks out of the room. He thinks he hears James sigh but he's not intending to turn back and look.

So what if he adds a crackpot principal to the long list of people who are disappointed in him?

By Sunday, he's buckling under the strain of the schoolwork he has to complete and the lack of sense it makes. He'd thought his Geometry homework would be the simplest on his homework list, which would take him half an hour to complete, and then he could start trying to read something for one of his two History courses, but it's been two days and he doesn't have much to show for it. He never knew numbers that he's been familiar with since he was three could suddenly become incomprehensible squiggles on the page. He feels oddly betrayed.

"Are you okay?" Clarington asks, interrupting his frustrated attempts at concentrating. They haven't spoken in a week. He wishes it could have stayed that way. He has no interest in admitting to anything right now.

"Fine."

"It's just that you sound like you're having an asthma attack over there with all that huffing and puffing. Unless you're trying to blow the school down because you think you're the Big Bad Wolf, in which case try harder."

Sebastian looks over his shoulder with an incredulous expression but Clarington is completely immersed in the work in front of him, his hand moving across the page as he writes notes which are probably a lot neater than any of Sebastian's.

"I have a lighter," he mutters, feeling annoyed when Clarington's shoulder's shake.

"So you'd get through the house of straw and maybe the one of wood. What about when you encounter bricks? How do you burn those down?"

Sebastian scowls and looks back at his Geometry homework. He thinks he's already encountered the brick house because this topic is a fucking brick wall. He'll burn the fucking textbook and then show that it's entirely possible to burn down bricks.

"Fuck burning down the pigs' house. There's more than enough bacon in the world."

Clarington laughs. He sounds genuinely amused as the chuckle rumbles free of his throat. Sebastian's not sure if he's glad of the reaction or not.

"So now that we've established you enjoy being cruel to homeless animals, what are you struggling with?"

This time, Clarington's definitely looking at him. He can feel the loaded gaze of the other boy on him. He knows Montgomery said that his roommate was capable and intelligent but after their physical altercation last week, he hasn't felt particularly generous towards the boy. At least Clarington has offered him the space to thaw and claim some ownership of the room without assaulting him again.

"I'm not struggling," he mutters, his pride refusing to back down. He's not someone who asks for help. He's not someone who admits weakness or failure. He's not about to start now.

"Oh?"

He ignores Clarington and focuses his eyes on the page in front of him. He's fairly sure the letters and numbers aren't printed properly because they keep swimming across the page, moving around like they're in a pond that's being stirred.

He rubs his eyes and uses his finger to keep track of what he's looking at, which only marginally helps.

"You're looking for y in these examples, not x," Clarington says his voice so close that it startles Sebastian into dropping his pen. His roommate looms over him, a hand reaching for Sebastian's exercise book. "You start off right but wait, why did you cross-multiply these?"

Sebastian's fairly sure Clarington is about to declare he's an absolute fool and then spread it to the whole school. He wishes he'd brought his Academic Excellence Award along with him to prove that he was intelligent.

"Okay, hold on," Clarington murmurs, more to himself than anything, and strides back across the room. He returns a few seconds later with his chair, settling in too close for Sebastian's comfort. He doesn't understand why everyone just assumes he'll accept them being in his space. "Explain to me your thinking with this question."

"I don't need your help," he grumbles, trying to twist his body so he's blocking Clarington from seeing whatever work is riddled with mistakes. Possibly all of it, but then he'll deal with his disappointed Geometry teacher because disappointing adults is what he does best. Unfortunately, he now has his back to Clarington and given last week, it's possibly even worse to be in this position if he can't see an attack coming.

"No, you don't want my help. There's a distinct difference," Clarington explains, pushing Sebastian's arms until parts of his paper are exposed. "So I'm not going to ask you if you want it or not, I'm asking you what your thought process was so I can help you out."

Sebastian frowns, wanting to pull the sheets of paper to his chest defensively. Maybe he'll have to start studying in the library from now on, although then he could get the super nerds surrounding him and that would be even more annoying. "Don't you have your own work to do?"

"Tons," Clarington answers easily, shrugging and crossing his arms over his chest. "Now, are you going to continue to be an ass or?"

Sebastian tries to hold onto his annoyance for as long as he can while Clarington stares at him expectantly. He manages to hold out for about three minutes before his shoulders sag and he deflates.

"I don't understand any of what I'm doing," he admits, looking at the page where the squiggles continue to move around. He thinks they're mocking his weakness at allowing Clarington to help.

"Okay, so let's go back to the start. You can't do the hard stuff if you haven't understood the foundations." Clarington grasps his textbook and flicks through the pages. "Start reading."

Sebastian swallows as his discomfort with the fuzzy, meandering words gets worse. Every time he tries to look harder, to mentally tell the words to just fucking stay still, they seem to wiggle a little faster in retaliation.

"Sebastian?"

"I… I can't…" he whispers lamely, folding his arms on the table and pressing his face into it because he's apparently gotten completely stupid and now his roommate is a witness to his stupidity and his face burns with the shame of it.

He doesn't understand what's going on and he's scared that maybe all the drugs have fried his brain. What if he can't complete freshman year? What if he keeps getting failed and held back and then he never goes to college? His mother is a doctor and his father is a state's attorney and Sebastian's completely incapable of completing fucking Geometry homework. There'd been a pipe dream once upon a time that he'd become something great in college, make some monumental contribution to a particular field and maybe then his parents would notice him and be proud again. But now…

"Why can't you?" Clarington asks his voice gentling more than Sebastian suspected it was capable of. "Are the words blurry?"

"Sometimes," he mumbles against his arms. "They keep moving around."

"Okay." A hand lightly presses to his shoulder. "How about if I read and you listen?"

He shrugs, partially to get the hand off and partially to indicate he doesn't care what Clarington decides to do. There's some rustling as his textbook gets picked up from beside his elbow and then Clarington's voice starts reading out a passage of text.

Sebastian listens even though he doesn't really want to, although he gets distracted a few times and has to ask for it to be repeated. There are still a lot of things that don't make sense, which he suspects might be because of his absences more than Clarington's reading or his shitty ability to learn anything at the moment.

"Can you write down a summary of what I just said in your own words? It'll help you remember it better."

Sebastian sighs and peeks up from his arms to find his pen and start scrawling down the basics: something about hypotenuse and Pythagoras, something about units of measurement might change. He writes a couple of sentences before his pen stills and he shrugs.

"Okay. That's a good start," Clarington says after he checks over his shoulder. "If I tell you what a shape looks like, can you draw it and fill in the details?"

It's an incredibly odd way to learn but Clarington sits with him for a couple of hours, reading out examples, describing the triangles, telling him the numbers to write, and then slowly helping him with working out the answers. He's still incredibly suspicious of Clarington's motives and fears for his reputation, but he begrudgingly has to admit that it helps and he gets through at least some of the work. He might have to explain to his Geometry teacher why more isn't done though, and he's not sure he's looking forward to that conversation.

"What about the homework for your other subjects?" Clarington asks suddenly when Sebastian complains he's had Math enough for the day.

"What about them?"

"Well, like… Is it hard to read those too?"

"Yeah," he mutters, folding his books into a pile to take with him tomorrow.

"Has it always been like that?"

Sebastian remembers the Academic Excellence Award. It can't have always been like that because he'd had a year where he'd done extremely well. The first year after Lillian got sick, when he was twelve, when everything was changing and he realised he was losing his parents' interest in his existence. He'd managed to read Blaine's medical details with enough careful scrutiny, so surely that meant he was capable of reading. And yet…

"I've never noticed it this badly before," he says, picking at a varnish bubble on his desk as a distraction from what he's talking about. "It's been a while since I've tried to do school work and sat in classes."

"So you might have had this problem before you came? And it's not just an anxiety thing?"

Sebastian frowns. "Anxiety thing? No." Although there's definitely a part of him which is anxious about reading aloud or speaking up in class in case it's something wrong, he puts that down to the fact he's new and completely out of his depth. "I'm… I dunno. I guess I'm just dumb."

"I don't think so. You got through the work."

"With far too much of your help," he complains, pushing away from the desk to go to his closet and pull out a hoodie to hide in.

"Good to know it's appreciated," Clarington says, almost bordering on teasing, as he returns his chair to the other side of the room. "Have you had your eyes checked?

"My eyes?"

"Yeah. You know. If you need glasses for the fuzziness."

Sebastian's never really thought about it. He can't remember the last whole book he finished because any time he grew too bored at home, he tended to go out to find something to drink or smoke. There'd been that book about knights and dragons but he hadn't been able to make much sense of it, and that had had moving words too. If he closes his eyes and thinks about it, he can remember reading Blaine's file with his finger running along the lines and shifting the clipboard closer and further away from him. He hadn't paid any attention to it at the time because it's what he'd always done, but now it seems like Clarington is pointing out that his abilities, or lack of, are distinctly abnormal. He's not sure how to feel about it and maybe, just maybe, it scares him.

"I dunno," he mumbles, pulling the hoodie over his head and tucking his hands into the pockets in an attempt to hide his discomfort and how badly they shake.

He can tell Clarington's watching him and he no longer feels like a gangly five-foot-eight fifteen-year-old waiting to fill out his height, but something as small and insignificant as a mouse. "Well if you want help with anything else, you only have to ask," the boy says finally, grabbing a few things off his desk. "Dinner's in twenty."

"I know."

"See you there?"

Sebastian shrugs and lies down on his bed. He'll eat something because it's expected of him, but he's feeling despondent about his inability to read something. It's fucking embarrassing to look like he's a simpleton.

He listens to Clarington pull on some shoes and leave the room without another word. He can't help wondering if he's losing his mind.

He doesn't want to start wondering if maybe he's already lost it.

~TBC~