Why was this happening to him? Ianto Jones, son of Tarran Jones, millionaire, here at induction week, in a bloody community college. He really should have thought twice about pissing off father. But really why the hell would his father be so cruel? So Ianto didn’t want to play by his fathers rules anymore but this, this was complete, total and utter overkill. He had been cut off. A meagre £40 a week allowance to live on, for the next two years, and as if that wasn’t bad enough he had to live with his mad Aunt Idella. No credit card, no access to his savings, God, father had even taken his two favourite suits, and all but one pair of cuff-links.
It had all started when he had refused to visit Merchiston Castle School, the private all boys’ Sixth Form Centre in Edinburgh that his father wanted him to attend. Ianto had point blank refused to even visit, stating that, “Only fags go to all boys’ schools.” The best part was, Ianto didn’t care about fags, in fact he was tempted to give it a go himself. No the real reason he’d acted out was because he wanted to be allowed to make a choice more important than the cut of his suit, or the colour of his tie. He didn’t want to move to Edinburgh, hadn’t wanted to leave Lisa his girlfriend. And look where it had bloody gotten him? Cardiff, sitting here in some scruffy assembly hall, wearing a bloody Savile Row suit worth nearly a grand. Admittedly this was only a semi-bespoke suit, and was in fact one of the oldest he owned, but still where was the justice? But the best part, the best part was that Lisa had decided that it would be best for them to see other people, because they were living so far apart. In fact if he wasn’t so proud he could probably go grovel to father and be sent to a decent school, where he could do the courses he needed. That however was simply not possible, because he was too proud, too stubborn to do that. So he would wait this out and try to make the most of it.
He was knocked out of his reverie when the people around him started to leave the hall. God, he’d zoned out of the talk completely and as a result had no bloody clue where he was supposed to be going. He must have looked lost or something, because another student was approaching him, offering her hand and introducing herself as Suzie Costello. She was dark haired and quite pretty, in a harsh sort of way. Not his type, but not bad looking.
“We’re in the same Tutor group,” She informed him, “And we should be with our tutor, like now.”
With that she took off down the corridor leaving him to trail in her wake. Their form tutor requested that they referred to him as Doctor, just Doctor, which Ianto found strange, but there you go. To be fair the guy was a Physic tutor, and so bound to be weird. The rest of the morning was spent filling out forms, detailing which A-levels they had chosen. Bloody stupid place didn’t even do Latin. In fact the only course that he had planned to take that was offered here was History, and that was standard history, rather than the ancient history course he could have taken at Merchiston Castle. In the end he selected Maths, Government and Politics, and Law as well as History and decided he would just have to get on with it, never mind that they had no real importance to the degree he had in mind.
The rest of the week went by mostly in a blur, though there were a few interesting moments, like when his for tutor, the Doctor, met the new Chemistry tutor, who also liked to simply be called Doctor. This had lead to a blazing row in the staff car park on Wednesday afternoon, over who should give in and use their surname to set them apart. And when he met his Maths tutor…. Ianto wasn’t gay, at least he did’t think of himself as gay, but he knew a handsome man when he saw one and Mr. Harkness, he was one handsome man. But it was more than that, he was enigmatic, flirty and fun, everything a Maths teacher shouldn’t be. Suzie, who was taking Maths with him had an immediate crush and had spent most of the Maths induction course drooling over the man who, for reasons known only to himself liked to be called Captain Harkness, and regularly wore a 1940’s style military great coat. Even though he was far too young to have even been born in the Second World War, never mind to have fought in it, but somehow it seemed to suit him.
And then it was Friday. He went to the pub with Suzie and a group of people from his tutor group that he got on well enough with, hoping to have a quiet pint. Ended up sitting drinking coffee as a result of his lack of I.D. which was unsurprising since he was only seventeen, but it was always worth a try. And yet somehow it wasn’t that bad an ending to the week. Later in the evening he hugged Suzie, said goodbye and headed back to Aunt Idella’s. He was heading back home to London for the weekend with his family, Then back to Cardiff on Sunday night, and back to bloody college.