Trust Jason to get himself into this situation.

He likes to keep to himself. He has a few friends (he has Roy, at least) and he isn’t, like… entirely allergic to social interaction, but he’d rather not have to speak to anyone unnecessarily.

He definitely doesn’t want to be stuck an hour after college multiple times a week to tutor some idiot.

Jason knows he doesn’t have to do it — it’s not like he needs the extra credit. He’s the top of his class. But he likes his English professor, and he found himself saying ‘yes’ to tutoring you without even thinking through what it’d actually entail.

He finds himself groaning for the millionth time this afternoon as he pinches the bridge of his nose. He can feel the migraine coming on already, his eyes rolling so hard that it physically pains him.

“You can’t be serious.” His eye is twitching. There’s no way you’re this stupid, right? Is the universe playing a cruel joke on him? He seriously hopes you didn’t pick an English Literature degree just to read those shitty romance books he sees you carrying around.

He already had to listen to you call 1984 boring last week. He can’t take it if he has to listen to you complain about the prose in The Yellow Wallpaper one more time.

“Listen, it’s a short story, it’s meant to be easier for you.” Breathe, Jason. Breathe. You can get through this. “Don’t just read the words. Think about what it’s implying. Read between the lines.”