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Two Weeks of Tutoring

Summary:

Wylan Van Eck signs up as a math tutor for a simple reason: to escape his oppressive home for an extra hour each day. Anything is better than staying there, even dealing with unrequited feelings for a student who hates him.

Jesper Fahey, who would rather have a good time than study, sees no need for a tutor--especially not a rich brat who panics at the slightest hint of flirtation.

But when Jesper reluctantly agrees to endure two weeks of tutoring, neither of them is prepared for how it will change their lives.

Notes:

I still haven't worked out a sequel to my other Modern AU, so instead you get a brand-new one! (This almost involved video games, but that didn't work out, making it the second video game-themed wesper fanfic I've scrapped.)

Chapter 1: Tutoring

Chapter Text

Jesper closed the door as quietly as he could and snuck toward the stairs. If he was careful enough, he could make it to his room and—

“Jes?”

No such luck.

He sighed and turned to face his dad, who had entered the room. “Hi, Dad.” He tried to sound casual. “How was your day?”

“I got a call from your school this afternoon.”

Luck was definitely not on Jesper’s side today. “I swear it was a complete accident. Anika and I just misunderstood the instructions, that’s all. No one was burned!”

His dad’s eyebrows shot up so fast he realized he’d made a terrible mistake. “I got a call from your math teacher, but let’s hear about this first.”

Crap… Jesper rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, it was nothing, really.”

“Anika is your lab partner in Chemistry, isn’t she? What do you mean ‘no one was burned’? What happened?”

“We had a problem and some acid hit the desk. No big deal.” Jesper cleared his throat and took another step toward the stairs. “Is that all?”

His dad folded his arms. “We’ll discuss your Chemistry class later. For now, I want to talk about Pre-Calculus. Miss Smith called me after school today.”

Discussing the acid incident might have been more pleasant.

“I… guess my grades haven’t been so good lately.” This year was out to get him. That F on his last test had gotten his teacher’s attention, apparently enough to call home.

“She said she spoke to you about taking part in the new tutoring program, but you refused.”

Jesper shoved his hands into his pockets and glanced away. “I don’t need a tutor.”

His dad let out a long sigh. “It might help.”

“It won’t.”

“How do you know that if you haven’t tried?”

“Because.” He’d have liked to leave it at that, but his dad probably wouldn’t accept it as an answer. “They don’t have formal tutors or anything like that. The tutoring program uses other students.”

He glanced at his dad’s face, but instead of nodding with understanding, he’d raised his eyebrows instead. “I’m sure the students were picked because they're good enough to be tutors.”

“I don’t need one of my classmates telling me how to do my math homework!”

“That’s the only problem?” his dad asked. “So if the tutors were professionals, you’d give it a try?”

There weren’t any professional tutors in the area, at least not that a farmer could afford—but just in case one had shown up somewhere, Jesper bit back his automatic yes.

“I’d consider it,” he said instead. With any luck, that didn’t sound like he was just trying to be difficult.

His dad sighed and shook his head. “Are you just trying to be difficult?”

Jesper folded his arms. “Come on, Dad. I’ve never gotten good grades in math. I’ve been bad at math all my life. Why would it change now?”

“Because you’d have someone helping you.”

“If the teachers can’t teach me math—”

“It might help if it’s another student,” his dad said. “Are you sure you wouldn’t be more comfortable studying with a friend?”

“None of my friends are tutors.”

“You know what I mean.”

But it was pointless. Staying after school for tutoring would be a waste of his time, and it might end up being more boring than class depending on who his tutor was. Besides, then his classmates would know that not only was he bad at math—which they probably knew anyway—but that he was getting help with it.

Ever since he reached high school and his grades started to slip, he’d cultivated the Jesper Fahey image.

The Jesper Fahey image involved being cool, maybe a bit of a slacker, someone who went to school to have a good time and didn’t care what anyone thought. It didn’t involve tutors.

He shook his head and turned toward the stairs. This conversation was over.

“Jes, I want you to try it.”

He froze with his foot on the first step. He should just go straight to his room and pretend he hadn’t heard. But he couldn’t just ignore his dad when he sounded like that. Jesper turned.

Concern creased his dad’s face. “I’ve been worried about you lately.”

“Come on, don’t make a big deal out of this.”

“I know you’ve been gambling.”

“Not in a while.” A lie.

“You make it sound like nothing has changed,” his dad said, “but it has. Sometimes I feel like you don’t care anymore.”

Maybe that was true. What was the point? His dad hadn’t gone to college. Why should he? And if he wasn’t going to college, why did it matter how he did in school? At least he had his friends.

“Getting a tutor won’t change anything,” he said.

For a long moment, his dad just looked at him. Then he sighed. “Would you consider a compromise?”

Jesper narrowed his eyes. “What sort of compromise?”

“Give it a try. Try out the tutoring for a couple of months—”

“A few days.”

“One month?”

“A week.”

“Until your next math test?”

Their next test was coming up in two weeks. A bit longer than Jesper wanted to endure tutoring for, but not terrible. He could survive two weeks. “Deal.”

His dad smiled. “After that, if you want to quit, I won’t stop you. Will you talk to Miss Smith about it tomorrow?”

“Sure, Dad.” Jesper laughed and shook his head. “If that’ll make you happy, I’ll do it.”

Two weeks. He’d put up with the tutoring, do his best to shake it off as nothing so people wouldn’t think he’d suddenly gotten studious, and then quit. His dad was crazy if he thought a deal like this would change anything.

#

Wylan closed his eyes and listened to the audiobook version of his history textbook. He ran through the next section again and focused on each word. Good. Once more and he should have enough memorized to fake anything in class tomorrow.

Next, math. Their advanced class focused more on problem-solving lately, but there were still sections he wanted to review. He’d save English for evening. It was the worst—long sections to memorize with the greatest chance that he’d need to fake it in class.

The phone rang.

His stomach flipped, and he glanced at the time. The teachers would have finished their work at the school for the day. This had to be it.

He crept into the hall far enough to hear his father’s voice from downstairs.

“There must be some mistake.” A long pause. “No, there’s no—” Another pause. “That is to say—” Each time he had to restart, his tone grew more frustrated. “I’m certain that—” The longest pause yet. “He did?”

Wylan winced. This might go worse than he expected.

When his father spoke into the phone again, his voice was chilly. “I’m not certain Wylan is qualified to be a tutor.”

Neither was Wylan, if he was honest. But Miss Smith had asked him if he’d give it a try as part of their new student-led tutoring initiative, and he accepted for two reasons. First, her praise of his math skills stood in such sharp contrast to his father’s criticism of him that he wanted to prove himself worthy of it.

Second, tutoring sessions took place for an hour after school. That would be an extra hour each day he didn’t have to go home.

“He has always preferred to be on his own,” his father said into the phone. “That might make for a poor teaching environment.” He paused again, and whatever the teacher said must have displeased him, because his voice soured. “Yes, it could be a chance for improvement.”

Wylan held his breath and waited. This was the moment of truth, when he’d get to see if his gamble paid off or not.

The offer forced a conflict between two of the things his father valued the most. Strict control over Wylan versus the reputation of the Van Eck name. Although he belittled Wylan in private, he forced him to keep his inability to read a secret in public, to maintain their reputation. He undoubtedly wanted to sneer that Wylan wasn’t intelligent enough to tutor anyone, but then the mask would slip.

Which was more important to him? Controlling his son for that hour after school, or pretending the Van Eck family had no deficiencies? Wylan prayed it was the latter.

“I see.” His father’s voice had lost all semblance of warmth. “Very well. He’ll be there.”

Wylan exhaled.

The phone slammed down. “Wylan!”

He took a breath to steady himself, waited long enough to make it appear as though he’d come from his room instead of an eavesdropping spot, and walked downstairs.

His father fixed him with a glare the moment he reached the first floor. “You signed up to be a tutor?”

Wylan drew another breath. “My teacher asked me to.”

“And you agreed?”

“I didn’t have a good excuse not to. It wouldn’t be good for someone with the Van Eck name to refuse an opportunity—”

His father struck his face before he could finish the sentence. “Don’t try to be cute.”

Wylan stumbled backward, his face stinging, and looked toward the drawing room door.

“Alys is out tonight.”

Oh. He struggled to keep his composure, even though his mind screamed to run or at least curl into a tiny, nonthreatening ball. Although Alys was oblivious and naïve, she wasn’t blind. His father refrained from overt abuse in front of her, unwilling to scare off his new wife.

A replacement wife to give him a replacement son. The thought made Wylan yearn to be eighteen and able to leave home. He’d gladly be replaced if it meant escaping.

“You’d better not be lying to me.” His father took a step toward him for each step Wylan backpedaled, until Wylan’s back was pressed against the wall. “If you use this ‘tutoring’ in order to hide other activities, I will remove you from that school and you’ll never see the light of day again without a keeper. Do you understand?”

As if Wylan had any friends to hang out with. It was impossible to bond with his classmates when he was so closely monitored, not allowed to spend time with them or even talk to people online.

Do you understand?

At his father’s upraised hand, Wylan flinched back so suddenly he hit his head against the wall. “Yes, sir.”

“And don’t let anyone—anyone at all—know about your problem.” His father grabbed him by the shoulders. “If a single soul finds out that I have a son too stupid to learn how to read, it will be the worst mistake of your life.”

Wylan lowered his head in a jerky nod. “I understand, sir.”

“Good.” His father let him go.

Surprised, he nearly fell. That was it? Really? He stared up at his father, unable to feel safe until they were in separate rooms again. The walls were closing in around him. His eyes stung, and he realized he’d started crying.

“Look at you.” His father’s lip curled. “You’re going to tutor someone? You disgust me.”

And that hurt worse than the physical blow. Every day, Wylan clung to his remaining shreds of hope that despite the contempt and scorn and punishment, his father still loved him, and every day, those shreds of hope became fewer.