#but mainly bush hall sorry isaac

[harompe]

How I've been for the last month and a half

[anthracenes]

Passion-Based Learning | Chapter 1

Tags/Trigger Warnings: Non-Con/Rape, Hypnosis, Hypnotism, Abuse of Authority, Conditioning, Dehumanization, Master/Pet, Master/Slave, Dom/sub, Brainwashing

[read on AO3 here]

He had first spotted it on his Chemistry Department's bulletin a week ago—set apart from the rest as being the one with the least art, the least color, and the most unassuming font to ever grace an ad. Isaac was just heading back to his dorm from having gotten his third D- in the class when he saw the stark flash of white from the corner of his eye.

A nondescript little flyer, advertising for some home-based, one-on-one tutoring off-campus.

He'd never admit it to his parents, but Isaac thinks he prefers it like that: learning with a real person on the other end. His first and only experience with it was on campus, with the student mentors he had the pleasure of working with last semester, but it was enough to open his eyes to it and never look back. His positive experiences that semester—being heard, listened to, treated as an average person and not another bottom line to satisfy—had made Isaac wonder for the first time whether there was more to learning than what he’s been led to believe all his life: whether classes, academics did not have to be the chores that they were—but something that could be appreciated with others, for their own sake.

He shudders to think what they would say to him now, if only they knew what he was up to. Mingling with everyday folk, and even learning a thing or two from them. But that was what college was all about, wasn’t it? Learning and trying all sorts of things a parent would never approve of, all on your own.

That’s what Isaac is doing now at least, in the passenger’s seat of a cab. It was unfortunate that the student mentors he so loved were unavailable this time around—mainly due to both popular demand and the sheer intensity of classes this semester. Still, all that meant was that he had to expand his search a little more. The two tutors from the flyer had offered help for an impressive breadth of STEM subjects: ranging from Calculus and Physics, General and Organic Chemistry, even to four different branches of biology. He had called the number provided and scheduled for a session for 3:00PM today, for help on Organic Chemistry, and is now on his way to meet them for the very first time. It’s not as if he’s sneaking around doing something awful, and yet Isaac feels a bit of a thrill in this—for being in control of at least one aspect of his life, for the first time.

As he skims the address plaques from the window of the cab, Isaac can't help but wonder about all sorts of things of his new tutors. How old are they? What relationship do the two have with each other? What inspired them both to take on this job? He wonders the reason for their preference to work from a house in the suburbs, as opposed to the luxury of a more established organization. The voice he had heard on the other end of the call last week was Wilfred’s: Caucasian, friendly, probably well in his late forties or fifties. Isaac wonders if it's him who will be tutoring him or the other tutor, Alexander.

Either way, he’s excited to meet them both.

“.. Oh, right here please. Thank you.”

He tips the driver and steps out of the vehicle with his belongings. Walking up to the welcome mat laid neatly under the white wooden door, he rings the doorbell and waits.

The neighborhood here is nice. It’s a quiet little cul-de-sac: a modest row of brownstone houses all lined up one after another, like a looping trail of dominoes. Instead of sprawling green lawns, many of the houses here have small gardens dotting along their front porches—a few morning glories here, rhododendron bushes there, even a plant growing little red chili peppers from across the street. This house in particular had pink, rose-like flowers he’s never seen before, adorning the entrance of the house in hanging baskets affixed to the ceiling.

Isaac hears footsteps approaching from the inside before the door finally opens. To his surprise, out steps a young man: dark hair and dimples, and barely any older than Isaac himself. The young man extended a hand to greet him, smiling.

“Welcome! You must be Isaac?”

He nods, shaking the outstretched hand.

“You can call me Alex,” the young man says. “I’m the other tutor here, along with Wilfred. It’s great to finally meet you, Isaac; please, come on in!”

Alex walks with him through the foyer, down the hall, and into the living room of the house—where all their tutoring sessions will be held. All the while, he’s all smiles as he goes over with Isaac the specifics of their arrangement.

“Tutoring usually lasts an hour, though we can always extend it if need be. It’s just us two for now, so we’re pretty flexible with our scheduling. You mentioned you preferred once a week on Thursdays to prep for your Friday exams, correct?”

”Yes, that’s correct,” he replied, grimacing slightly as he recounts the three awful ones he’s already been handed back so far. He has got to turn that around, and he’s sure he could with the help of this tutoring.

“Alright! Just let us know if that day no longer works for you for any reason, or if you want to add any more sessions in the future. Wilfred and I are happy to be of help, in any way we can.”

When they finally reach the living room at the end of the hall, the young man walks him to the brown leather couch right in the middle.

“Wilfred is in the kitchen right now, making snacks for the session. I’ll let him know you’re here so that we can get started right away. In the meantime, though,” he waves his hand, motioning for Isaac to sit before he heads to the kitchen, “Please, make yourself right at home here.”

Isaac sets his bag down next to his feet as he sits. He’s thrilled to have the privilege of studying with such wonderful people, and in such an inviting environment. The house is unique, welcoming, and charmingly eclectic in its furnishings; he feels he could identify at least five distinct styles and periods from the various things in the living room alone—all married together nicely to provide the overall personal, comforting atmosphere of the house. On the coffee table in front of him was a glass vase, filled with the same, swirling pink flowers he had seen from the hanging baskets outside.

But what catches his attention the most in the living room was not the flowers, or any of the other furnishings, but what sits across from it: all on its own, separated from anything else in the room.

There, positioned against the wall opposite him, stood a magnificent, cherry-red grandfather clock. Isaac's gaze is helplessly drawn to the structure: the swing of its shiny brass pendulum from behind the glass, to and fro and to and fro, with each movement accompanied by the monotonous, dull ticking of each second marching by. Isaac finds himself oddly relaxing to it as he stares on—sinking back into the soft cushions of the couch, letting each of the muscles in his body slowly unwind and let go of the tension he didn’t know he was even carrying with each heavy swing. His thoughts scatter away from him the more he watches the bob of the pendulum until there remains nothing else to pry him away from the hypnotic pull of the clock, lulling him deeper and deeper in unawares.

It was only when Wilfred himself appeared in front of him, setting down a tray of warm cookies on the table and blocking the clock from his direct line of sight, that Isaac was finally able to snap out of his strange reverie.

“Oh—! I… I’m so sorry,” he apologized, frowning. Isaac straightens up immediately, sitting up on the edge of the couch. “You haven’t been waiting long for me there, have you? I have no idea what’s gotten into me…”

“Oh, no; not at all,” The older tutor smiles, dismissing the notion with a wave of his hand. “I don’t mind it, really. I'm just glad you're able to find it so relaxing here."

After setting the tray down, the man extends a large hand out to shake his.

“It’s nice to finally meet you in person, Isaac. Alex had probably told you already, but my name is Wilfred. We both look forward to working with you as your tutors from here on out.”