Chapter Text
There were few things that Roy Harper had left to call his own.
The house he lived in, though large and luxurious, never really felt like a home to him. He had reveled in it upon his arrival. He had been young and wide-eyed and in awe, completely unaware that there were truly people who lived in places so grand. For the first time in his life, he didn't want for anything, could receive anything he asked for at the drop of a hat. Though he had never been a materialistic person by any means, like any child would, he got sucked in by the glamour of a whole new lifestyle. The house was truly a mansion, on grounds so large the whole property was an estate. The Queen Estate was spacious, but as time wore on, all of that room that he was once so enamored by just mocked him with its emptiness. It was like having his own place with how often he found himself living alone. Roy had never had to spend much time alone before he moved, before Oliver had taken him in. He hadn't truly known how damaging loneliness could be.
As he got to the foot of the stairs, reluctantly getting ready for the day of school ahead, he spied the red flashing light of the answering machine. There was a voicemail from Ollie that he'd never bothered to listen to. It had been there for a few days now, and sometimes Roy glanced at it and thought about picking up the phone. But he'd learnt long ago that Oliver would only have a minute to spare him, if he bothered to answer at all. He'd long since stopped listening to those messages, they were all variations of the same basic sentiment.
With a deep sigh Roy shouldered his backpack, and once again wondered why Oliver Queen, billionaire playboy that he was, had even considered taking in a child. Whatever had prompted that decision was clearly no longer relevant. Oliver obviously regretted the choice, because if he truly wanted Roy around surely he'd be home to spend time with him. Though he knew the two of them had little in common, from their vastly different ages to their totally different lifestyles and upbringings, Roy still wished that Oliver had made more effort in the very beginning, when it mattered. Maybe if that had been the case, They could've had the father-son relationship people would've expected them to. Whatever, at nearly 17, Roy was passed the point of needing him anyway.
Still, Roy went everyday wondering what he'd done to essentially drive Oliver out of his own house. Regardless of how much someone enjoyed travelling, they couldn't possibly be out of their own home for so long, could they? There had to be a reason why Oliver didn't return more frequently.
The walk to school was tiresome, as always, and he knew that he could call a car at any time, it wasn't like the fare would put a dent in Ollie's wallet. But, he found that he missed the open land and fresh air of the reservation, and liked to be outdoors as much as possible. The walk was calming. He ran his hands haphazardly through thick auburn hair, and sparked up a cigarette for the way. He popped in his headphones, needing music to drown out the sound of passing traffic, he let Zep's 'Ramble On' and the harshness of smoke accompany him to the school grounds. He crushed the butt of his cigarette underneath a booted foot before heading to his first class of the day. He was only a little bit late.
The day passed uneventfully, there were spitballs and doodles in margins where there should have been notes. There was high quality cafeteria food that was plentiful and delicious and made Roy ever more grateful for Oliver's fortune providing him placement at one of the greatest schools in the country. It was perfectly mundane, and Roy found himself grateful for the routine of it. At least he always knew what to expect.
It wasn't that Roy didn't enjoy school, he just simply had trouble applying himself, he had been eager to learn and jumped at the prospect that this school could get him wherever he wanted to go. But, with Oliver being gone most of the time, Roy hadn't really had anyone to kick him into gear. He started staying up late without realizing, and then on purpose. His homework lay forgot as he marathoned classic horror movies. That, coupled with the fact that he really didn't have any friends at school, meant that he didn't have anybody to collaborate on projects with or bounce ideas off of. He was always the last picked for group work or sports teams, and that all only caused his work ethic and his interest in his education to plummet.
Before he knew it his grades had slipped considerably, and the knowledge of that just sent him spiraling further. Doubts crept in, he felt neglected and unappreciated and lonely, and suddenly 5000 words essays just didn't seem important at all, no matter how many times the teachers told him otherwise. The school would contact Ollie, and leave a message because he wouldn't be home. The blinking light of the machine would greet Roy when he came through the door and he'd delete the message without listening to it. And the vicious cycle would continue.
When finally, blessedly the home bell sounded, Roy stuffed his things back into his bag and swung it over his shoulder. He retrieved his drumsticks and twirled them absently between his fingers as he headed for the door. He was only feet from the door, trying to repress his agitation as other students jostled him in their haste to finally be free.
"Mr. Harper!"
He halted, and with a muttered curse he glanced towards the door. So close, yet so far. But, the call of his name had cracked like a whip, and it was too late now to pretend he hadn't heard it. Begrudgingly, he turned back to see who'd addressed him. Mr Wilson stood in his office doorway, his arms crossed and his face grim. Wordlessly, he inclined his head and turned into the room, Roy sighed but followed behind him.
The next 10 minutes were tense, Mr Wilson explained that Roy's ever falling grades and continual tardiness were no longer excusable. He spoke of figures that Roy didn't care to comprehend, the lecture was nothing he hadn't heard before. But there was an underlying threat this time, something in the principal's voice that made Roy snap to attention. This time, for a change, the lecture was to be taken seriously. In short, if Roy wanted to continue his education at the establishment, he would have to agree to a tutor, simple as that.
Roy wasn't happy about the arrangement, far from it. Since moving in with Oliver at the age of 13, Roy had never really fit in with the other students. It was an expensive, high-profile school, and its students came from wealthy, high-profile families. Quite often their personalities reflected that of the typical, stuck-up rich kid. Roy really wasn't looking forward to spending time with one of them, not with the added ammunition of him needing a tutor. He ran a hand anxiously over his face. His daily routine was about to be disrupted, and Roy didn't have the patience to try and cooperate with another student.
Mr Wilson told him that the student in question was younger, only 15 to Roy's near 17. Apparently, the boy had transferred to the academy when he was 12, and though he hadn't previously studied any of the material this school covered, he still managed to surpass his classmates. Mr Wilson said he was dedicated, smart and was already studying at the same level as those Roy's age. Roy suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Not only was he being forced to spend time with another student, but they just had to be a brainiac who most likely would relish in belittling Roy at every opportunity. He really didn't want to deal with a know-it-all kid who'd look down his nose at him as they worked.
But before Roy could offer up any form of protest - not that he really had a leg to stand on - Mr Wilson stood and headed for the door, leaving Roy in the chair with his head bowed. A minute or two later the teacher returned, towing a boy with him. The boy was noticeably shorter than Roy, and comically small when stood in such close proximity to the principal. He had thick black hair, and deep blue eyes. He wasn't wearing the tell-tale smirk of snobbery. Roy watched the guy's fingers twitch around the strap of his back, almost as if he was nervous. Roy nearly grinned to himself, maybe this wouldn't be so insufferable after all.
"Roy Harper," Mr Wilson began, but Roy didn't take his eyes off of the younger student, "meet your tutor, Jason Todd."