School, books, academics...they've always come easy to the young genius. Friendship, emotions, and now the high standard requirements of becoming an FBI Agent- New Agent Training... they are all things he will have to learn in this new stage of life. But maybe, he doesn't have to do it alone.
Content Warnings: feelings of self doubt, negative self talk, feelings of inadequacy academically, physically, and socially (later on: romance, flirting, pining, kissing)
A/N: Part 1 is short but it's more introductory and just to get things rolling!
I watch as my teammates leave the locker room one by one, some giving me a half hearted pat on the shoulder, others giving me a weak smile full of pity. I knew it, we all knew it, that I had been the reason our team had not successfully finished its mission. I had tried my best, truly I had, but this is what happens when you take a twenty something skinny kid out of the library and throw him into new agent training for the FBI.
I had believed Agent Gideon, trusted him when he said I would be able to make it through. It was his belief that my skills were essential to the team, and failing out of the academy was not an option. Now, I’m only a few weeks in and I’m not so sure.
They told us we would build strong bonds here as fellow agents, get through these things as a team. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not exactly high school cliques or anything but, I still feel as though I’m on the outside. Every other agent here seems more skilled, more talented, more physically capable than I. They don’t say anything to me about it, but they all see it. How can they not when I am continuously the weakest link of the bunch.
I take solace in the academic time, the test taking, the moments were I finally feel like I belong. I don’t need to surpass the others to feel good about myself, but it sure doesn’t hurt considering the way I regularly come in dead last in every physical feat.
Some days I wonder if I’m the only one truly struggling. I know it can’t be true but it sure feels that way. That is until I saw them, sitting alone on the floor in a dark hallway behind the classroom. I hear what I can distinguish as a few sniffles and see them wipe their face with the sleeve of their trainee hoodie.
I don’t approach people. I don’t step out of my comfort zone. So why is it that my feet are leading me straight over to this unknown person. I considering moving along, not saying anything, but I miss my opportunity when they notice that I’m standing right over them. I’m met with tear filled eyes staring up at me in confusion.
Come on and say something dummy
“Uhhh hi” I give a small wave before returning my hand to clutch my satchel, my only sense of comfort at the moment.
They look confused but respond, nonetheless. “Hi?”
“You just seemed... I saw y-you a-and… I uh, are you okay?” I stumble over my words, per usual.
Nice going, genius
They take a moment to wipe their face down with their sleeves once again, as if I’m someone they’d need to be more presentable for.
“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. I’m great actually. Everything is totally…” One deep breath and the façade comes crashing down in an outpouring of tears. I’m not really sure what to do when people cry, especially people I don’t know, but I figure it’s polite to sit down next to them, despite the germ-laden ground. I give them a minute for their sobs to slow and their breath to even out.
“What happened?” I ask with any compassion I can muster, which is difficult considering I don’t know what they are going through and therefore cannot yet relate to their distress.
“I’m a certifiable idiot, that’s what” they say with what they try to pass off as sarcasm but is clearly reflective of how they see themselves.
“I highly doubt that, considering you’re here, training for the FBI that is. What’s making you feel this way, if I may ask?”
“The test, the stupid, stupid test. I bombed it. After I spent all week studying, for hours!” They bury their face in their hands.
“I don’t believe test scores alone should be used to define intelligence. With that being said, I could try to give you some study tips, or uhh help explain any concepts you might be stuck on.”
They avoid eye contact, clearly still embarrassed, but there’s no need with me.
“You don’t have to do that I probably just need to put in more hours.”
“It’s likely that time spent studying isn’t the issue as much as how you are spending it. A lot of common study techniques are not quite as effective as people make them out to be.”
“So what… you’ll show me your magic study skills you use?” I see them crack a smile as they joke with me.
I rub the back of my neck out of nervous habit. “Not exactly…I uhh I don’t really… I don’t tend to need them. But I know several used in academic peer reviewed studies that were shown to be highly effective. Plus I could help you nail down your learning style that works best for you.”
I’m finally met with a genuine smile and I can’t help but return in.
“That sounds great. Thank you so much…umm I don’t know your name.”
