Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

~×~

Life is a distant thing.

It's quite a mystery to Todd, even if he prefers not to dwell on it. Like a delicate flower, life's beauty can only be admired from a distance. Maybe it doesn't make any sense to others—though it makes sense to him—, but if he tries to take control of his life, of this beautiful flower, he might accidentally pluck it. Todd doesn't want it to wither. So, he lets it grow by itself. He doesn't try to nudge it into a certain direction, he simply lives the life he's given.

When his brother suggests the school he graduated from at a horribly bland family dinner, Todd feels his heart speed up. They want him to attend that school. A private academy. Are they really going to send him there? 

The thought makes his stomach curl in an unpleasant way, and he tries to imagine himself in that cage of teachers, students, and education. Will they ever be allowed to have fun, if teachers control their daily life? After all, even if Todd isn't the best example, they're still teenagers. In high school. The thought of forcing boys from the ages of fifteen to eighteen into a role of obedience makes Todd feel sick. At this age they're supposed to be wild; to make mistakes. Again, he's not the best example. 

In the end, his parents sign him up for the academy anyway, and he doesn't say a word. It's not his choice. If he's told to go, he will.

So, now he's sitting in this hall, with approximately hundreds of boys. His mother sits next to him, but Todd is fully aware that her thoughts aren't even with him. The closest she gets to giving him attention is comparing him to Jeffrey, which is an entirely different story of its own. There's an old man standing in the front, and a few boys—maybe ten—came in earlier with music, and banners. A little obnoxious, honestly.

“Gentlemen, tell me, what are the four pillars?”

The question flies through Todd's brain as he watches all the boys his age stand up. Somehow, all of them look the same in a way. Tired, maybe. Bored, probably. Todd gets it. A little.

“Todd!” His mother shrieks, and the blond flinches as he stands up. Right.

All the boys start naming the four pillars in unison, but Todd only mouths the words, not even knowing them. He's sure someone told him, or they mentioned it, but he's not interested enough to remember. Well, he guesses, now he has to. “Tradition, Honour,” Todd mouths in a small mutter, barely moving his lips, and his embarrassed gaze drags over the other students, “Discipline, Excellence.”

Jeffrey has told him all about Welton Academy. Well, maybe not all, but most of it. He says the teachers are strict, and there's curfews. The boys are sorted into dormitories of two, and when Todd heard this at home, his stomach had curled uncomfortably. Sharing a room. Great. 

It seems like most of the boys at Welton are not happy to be there, though, so that's at least one thing they all seem to have in common. 

Hesitantly, Todd swallows his anxiety as they start to move out of the hall. They'll have to say goodbye to their parents now, not that he's very opposed to not having to see them for a while. Living in his school isn't really ideal, either. Still, he forces himself through it all, and watches his parents leave. He's just glad Jeffrey isn't here. 

A little lost, and still with a swarm of anxious butterflies in his stomach and lungs, Todd walks around campus. He has no idea where he's going, but he has to find the dormitories, or his bags. A teacher gave him the number of his room, and a name. Something like—

“Hey!” a voice interrupts his thoughts, “I hear we're going to be roommates. I'm Neil Perry.”

Ah. Neil. That's the name.

Todd turns his head, and walks a little slower as he inspects the boy. He's taller, dark hair, dark eyes. Nothing special, but his smile. It's so genuine. Usually, people he meets give him that strained, and forced smile of kindness, trying their hardest to act good. This boy—Neil—doesn't. He just…Smiles. It's strange, if anything, and Todd feels a little confused.

“I'm Todd. Anderson,” he responds in a quiet tone, trying to mumble his last name in a way that makes it impossible to hear. 

Oh, the brother of Jeffrey Anderson, he expects. 

It doesn't come. Yet, at least.

Neil only grins, and the pull of his lips has something boyish, like the childhood of a protagonist in a whimsical book at the back of a shelf. That's a weird comparison. Todd should stop thinking. So, he does, and walks instead. The thing is, he probably knows where to go to get his bags, and where the dormitories are, he just forgot. Or, well, he simply didn't try to remember. Even though Jeffrey showed him once, when Todd was forced to visit him with his parents. 

As they walk, Neil watches him, and it's a little uncomfortable. Somehow, Todd knows exactly what's going on in the other boy's head, but doesn't say a word.

“Why did you leave your old school? Balincrest?” Neil asks.

There it is.

“My brother went here,” Todd mutters, awkwardly fidgeting with the end of his sleeve.

Neil nods with a smile, “Oh, so you're that Anderson!”

They part somewhere in the hall with all their things, and Todd says goodbye to his normal life. Well, if you can call it normal, anyway.

The hallway to his dorm is packed, and he pushes through it awkwardly. Todd wrings himself together like a towel, trying to be the smallest version of himself as he pushes past groups of friends, and worried parents. Some things he can't relate to. Then, he spots the door to his room, just a few metres ahead. However, before he can manage to go there, he sees a red head walking up to it, and leaning against the door. Curiously, Todd listens as that boy talks to someone in the room, probably Neil.

“Hey, Neil,” the ginger says, “Study group tonight?”

Todd's roommate says something that he can't hear beneath all the noises in the hall, but it's fine. Technically, it isn't his business anyway, and he begins to step forward again. His bags are getting heavy.

“Oh, hey, I heard you got the new kid,” the boy at the door suddenly says, and Todd stops again, gulping, “Looks like a stiff!”

The words and laughter from the unknown boy make Todd's stomach curl with anxiety, and he pushes past him with a troubled expression. Immediately, the ginger leaves, clearly not having expected Todd to make an appearance during this conversation. Arsehole. Well, maybe he's right. Todd is stiff. He's not really good at being a teenage boy. Well, not like this, anyway. 

“Listen, don't mind Cameron,” Neil hums, and it doesn't really help the fact that Todd does mind him, “He was kind of born with his foot in his mouth, you know what I mean?”

Todd has no idea what he means.

Then, Neil slaps him on the back with a rolled up paper. Whatever it is. Without saying a word, Todd starts to open his suitcase, glancing over his shoulder once to see Neil doing the same. It doesn't take long until the next boys enter the room. Seriously, how many friends does his new roommate have? It's already exhausting. Todd can't deal with people.

Three boys enter the room, one with short brown hair, the other a little taller, and the third boy with red hair, and glasses.

“I've heard a rumour you did summer school,” the boy in the front says, pointing at Neil, and Todd watches the entire interaction from the corner of his vision. It's none of his business, still, but it is his room, too, afterall. So, it's not really his fault, is it? No. “Yep. Chemistry. My father said I should get ahead,” Neil says with a tight-lipped smile, forgetting about his suitcase for a moment. 

Then, when Neil walks over to the boys, Todd lets himself follow him with his eyes. 

“How was your summer, slick?” His roommate asks, and the grin is evident in his voice.

The boy at the door smirks, “Keen.”

When all three boys, plus Neil, walk into the room, Todd wants to die. He starts to grab things in his suitcase before putting them back down, rearranging them just to look busy. “Meeks, close the door,” the boy that's currently sitting down on Neil's bed says, and the boy with glasses and red hair, Meeks, nods. 

“Yes, sir,” he snorts, closing the door as he was told to.

Then, Todd hears a lighter, and he glances over his shoulder again to see one of the boys pull out a cigarette. One boy sits down at Todd's desk, Meek's leans against Neil's.

And, well, Neil is sitting on their radiator. 

“What are the four pillars, gentlemen?” Neil grins, and Todd can't help but turn his head again, and again to watch what's going on in the full room. They all start saying in unison, “Travesty, horror, decadence, excrement.”

The fact that all of the boys seem to dislike Welton makes Todd worry, although it's quite logical that none of the boys are very fond of their school. After all, it's a school. An academy, at that. One without girls, which probably leaves most boys in this school devastated. Not Todd. He's never cared for such things, really. 

“So, study group,” the boy with the cigarette says, “Meeks aced Latin. I didn't quite flunk English. So, if you want, we have our study group.”

Todd begins to ignore the words spoken behind him, and they fade into the background. They talk about Cameron, the guy who called him stiff, so it doesn't really interest him. Instead, he starts to actually unpack. He puts his desk set upon the desk, awkwardly brushing his arm against the boy that's sitting next to it. End his misery, please. Everything is so horribly, unbearably awkward.

Suddenly, when Todd glances over his shoulder again, he meets eyes with Meeks. Which, okay, that's even more awkward. 

“Oh, I'm sorry, I'm Steven Meeks,” the boy says, holding out his hand, probably for a shake, and Todd hesitantly grabs it. They let go not too long after, and when Todd struggles to get the knot out of his throat, someone saves him.

“He's Todd Anderson,” Neil smiles, standing up a little, and tapping Todd's shoulder like he's a mother prompting his child to make friends. It's a little ridiculous, and it makes Todd happy in a way that makes him sad, which doesn't quite make sense.

The boy on the bed introduces him next, “Charlie Dalton.”

Honestly, Todd is a little overwhelmed, and he looks over at Dalton with a lost expression, trying to figure out if he also wants to engage in a formal handshake, which doesn't seem to be the case, so Todd looks back at his suitcase. Then, the next boy says something, the one at his desk. He even stands up to shake Todd's hand. 

“Knox Overstreet,” he greets, smiling.

All in all, it's kind of nice. They finally acknowledge him, even if Todd didn't expect it. Of course they had no reason to do this, so Todd is actually quite flattered. Well, not for long—

“His brother was Jeffrey Anderson,” Neil hums, and Todd quickly looks back at his suitcase.

Nevermind.

“Right, sure,” Charlie hums, “Valedictorian. National merit scholar.”

The reminder makes Todd wince.

Quickly, though, Steven changes the topic, and welcomes him to Hell-ton, which seems to be a nickname for the school. It makes Todd smile a little, not quite forgetting about the conversation about his brother, but pushing it to the back of his head. It doesn't matter. He can't really escape the comparisons, especially not at the school his brother graduated from. 

Suddenly, there's a knock on the door.

Panicked, Charlie puts out the cigarette on the floor, and all the boys stand up, straightening their backs. “Door's open!” Neil yells, and a man steps inside. Todd already doesn't like him. For some reason, he looks at the boys like he's better than them, and Todd knows that expression far too well.

All the boys greet the man as ‘Mr. Perry’, which makes Todd's heart sink, glancing over at Neil.

“Father, I thought you'd gone,” the boy with dark hair, and dark eyes says, and it's a little painful to see the genuine smile on his face merge into one of faux kindness, and faux admiration. 

The man, Mr. Perry, glances around the room before his eyes land on his son, “I've talked to Mr. Nolan, and I have decided that you're taking too many extracurricular activities this semester. So, you will drop the school annual.”

“But I'm the assistant editor this year,” Neil argues, smile dropping faster than Todd has ever seen.

Mr. Perry is clearly not amused by this, averting his gaze, and stiffly speaking out a meaningless apology.

“But father, it wouldn't be fair—”

“Fellas, could you excuse us for a moment?”

All the boys watch as Neil is taken outside of the dorm by his father, and Todd can't help but feel sorry for him. It sounds like the man is a controlling one, and a strict one, too. Sometimes it feels like fathers are taught not to feel, and Todd can't help but feel sorry for them, too. Although in a completely different way, because he hates his own father just as much as Neil must hate his. Or, at least, fear. 

It's just a big cycle of being forced to be someone, and never getting out of it. Ever. 

Afterwards, Todd doesn't take long to figure out how the school works. Classes are boring, and strict. They follow a system of obedience and order. It's ridiculous, and Todd can barely listen to most of what his teachers say. That is until English class. 

Quite interestingly, the first thing Mr. Keating does is whistle a tune, and leave class. 

They all gather in the hall, and Todd stands awkwardly in the back, watching, and listening for the first time today. Mr. Keating makes a reference to Walt Whitman, and it perks Todd's interest. “O captain, my captain,” Mr. Keating hums, “Who knows where that comes from?”. Todd stretches his neck a little to see the teacher better, and then he lets his gaze drag over the students.

No one answers his question, and while Todd knows what to say, he doesn't. He meets eyes with Mr. Keating, and as the teacher answers his own question, he furrows his eyebrows in regret, “It's a poem by Walt Whitman about Abraham Lincoln.”

Todd knew that.

So, after Keating confirms the rumours that Todd hasn't even heard of—it seems he went to “Hell-ton” as well—, they start talking. 

It's an extraordinary English class, and Todd isn't sure if he likes it or not. They talk about things like Carpe Diem, and death. They talk about the past, and look at old students who went to Welton. It's all quite strange, and Todd has never been more intrigued in someone's words in his entire life. Keating has a way of talking about things, and making them more interesting, even though they're not. Or, at least they haven't been until now. He jokes about students, and makes stupid sound effects that make the class snicker and snort.

English class is fine, Todd decides.

In fact, it's so fine that Todd thinks about it as he sits on the windowsill in their community bathroom. He stares down at the ground, fidgeting with his own fingers, and breathing in the smell of cheap soap. 

He's already dressed as he waits patiently. If he's honest, he hasn't even showered like the others, he simply changed.

Even though they're all boys, others seeing his body makes him want to die, like O so many things in this school, and Todd decides against showering with everyone else. He can shower at night, maybe, or early in the morning. It's fine. So, now he just sits there motionlessly, thinking, and listening to Knox talking about some dinner with family friends. 

Suddenly, Neil stands next to him, and snaps, and Todd flinches, staring at him with wide eyes.

The other's hair looks even darker when it's wet, and like the other boys, he's just wearing a towel around his hip. 

“Hey, coming to the study group tonight?” Neil asks, and he flings a towel over his head, stroking his hair back with it. A gulp sends down the knot in Todd's throat, and he looks to the side for just a moment, hands awkwardly fidgeting with each other as he tries to find a good excuse. “Uh, no,” he settles for, and internally winces, “No, I've, uh, I've got some history I wanna do.”

Maybe it's not the most believable lie he's ever told, but Todd can't think, and the room is unbearably warm with so many people, and hot water still running.

“Suit yourself,” Neil says, nodding before he walks off again.

Todd isn't sure what “suit yourself” with three too many nods means, exactly, but he takes it, and watches Neil's back as he walks away. 

In the end, everyone leaves, and Todd showers as soon as he's alone. There's little complications, only a short, awkward conversation with one of the teachers. He simply says that he didn't get a turn with the showers until now, and he's left alone. Well, at least that's a better lie. 

When Todd returns to his dorm, Neil isn't there. He sits down at his desk with a huff, and messes with his hair a little, staring at his pens, and books. 

The paper is already sitting there, empty, and ready to be filled with something useful—homework, notes, letters. Instead, Todd takes a pen, and messily writes down the words “seize the day!” like he would ever actually do something close to courageous. So, with a sigh, he stares at those words before crumpling up the paper, and throwing it to the ground. His hands reach for the chemistry book.

Well, homework it is. 

It's only pretty late that night when Neil comes back to the dorm, and Todd is hunched over his chemistry book, trying to finish at least half of the homework without falling asleep. Sure, it's until next week, but better now than later. 

“Still awake?” Neil asks, sitting down on the bed as it gives a quiet creak.

Todd is a little confused by that question, and glances over at the boy with a puzzled expression. “Why? What time is it?” He asks, and Neil lets out a snort, standing up to stand behind Todd.

“Midnight,” he answers, “That's not History, is it?”

At that, Todd shuts his mouth tightly, and bites the inner side of his cheek quite harshly. Right. He could've just said he was going to do the sinful amount of chemistry homework. 

Without really meaning to, Todd yawns, and he feels a light pat on his shoulder before he turns his head, and watches Neil lay down on his bed. Quickly, Todd shuts his chemistry book, stretches his arms, and turns off the lights. There's enough time for homework tomorrow, so he'll be fine. Now, he really has to sleep, it's been an unbearably long day.

His legs carry him to his bed weakly, and he carefully sits down before covering himself with the thin blanket, and laying down. 

It's silent, but Todd can hear the wind hitting their big window.

“Knox met a girl at that dinner he went to, he says she's in love with someone else, though,” Neil says quite suddenly, a gentle laugh leaving his throat, “Chet Danbury, I don't know if you know him. Knox was devastated.”

Todd does know who that is, but he doesn't say anything about it.

“He's in love?” 

Neil hums, “I'm guessing he's just a little infatuated.”

Todd glances over at the dark silhouette of Neil's bed, barely able to make out the other boy.

“Or maybe he's obsessed,” the blond says quietly, Neil laughs. 

~×~

Chapter Text

~×~

With a grin, Neil sits down at the table in the Cafeteria. He's been looking for something, and he's finally found it. So, he gives it to his friends.

A senior annual.

With Mr. Keating in it. 

“Hey, I found this annual in the library,” he says, giving the book over to Cameron, the page with Mr. Keating already opened.

A laugh sounds, and his friends grin as they look inside. The picture is really ugly, and it makes Neil happy, so he smiles. “Captain of the soccer team, editor of the school annual, Cambridge bound, thigh man, and the Dead Poets Society,” he recites, like he's read it over and over again. Honestly, he has, the thought of their English teacher being so similar to him simply makes him feel giddy. Well, not similar, maybe. Still, they're not so different.

Neil eats a spoon of his food, eyes trailing over to look at Todd. He doesn't seem to be very interested in the annual, but he's still glancing at it.

“Man most likely to do anything,” Cameron quotes, reading it out loud from the book. 

Charlie grins, “Mr. K was a hell raiser. I mean, thigh man!”

The boys all laugh quietly, and Neil grins at his friend in amusement. However, his eyes find Todd again, and he's not laughing. Tough crowd. It makes Neil only smile wider. 

“What's the Dead Poets Society?” Knox asks, leaning over the table ever so slightly to get a glance of the book.

Neil shrugs, and Cameron looks for a picture in the annual. There isn't anything, he's already looked, so he tells them. “There's nothing about it in there,” Neil hums, probably sounding a little disappointed. They'll have to ask Mr. Keating later. The thought brings the smallest of smiles to his face.

Suddenly, Nolan speaks, and all the boys shut up, hiding the annual. 

Yeah, they'll ask Keating. 

The campus is full with boys, talking, or playing sports. Some are doing homework, which is admirable in this weather. It's warm, but it's still a little wet from the rain last night. How could someone do homework like that? In the grass, too. Maybe Neil will try, maybe it's fun to solve equations while also trying to keep all the schoolwork dry.

All of his friends are behind him as he spots his goal, and he rushes after a strolling Keating. 

“Mr. Keating! Sir?” Neil calls out, but then he gets closer to the man, and knows exactly he's being purposefully ignored. A grin decorates his lips as he speaks out the next words, “Oh captain, my captain?”

Immediately, Keating spins around, “Gentlemen!”

All the boys laugh, even if Neil can't hear Todd's voice once again. He somehow knows there's at least a smile on his face, simply because, how could there not be?

“We were looking at your old annual,” Neil explains, giving the book over to the old man. Well, he's not that old.

Keating takes it, and looks inside with a grin, muttering something under his breath that makes the boys laugh again. Then he says, “that's not me,” which only makes them laugh again. Their English teacher really does know how to act around boys their age, how to make them admire him, make them listen. It's amazing. Neil can't help but grin even wider, and he kneels down, too, when Keating does.

“Say, sir, what was the Dead Poets Society?”

It's silent, and even though Keating looks at him, he doesn't say a word. Neil wonders for a moment, the smile on his lips vanishing in concentration, waiting for anything to feed the curiosity in his mind. He'll take as much as a grin, and a mysterious shrug, but of course, an actual answer would be the best.

Then, Mr. Keating grins, and looks back down at the annual, humming. “I'm sure the present administration wouldn't look too favourably upon that,” he says.

“Why? What was it?” Neil asks again, because his curiosity is bubbling over in his throat, and he can't help it. He even scoots a little closer, just in case Keating might whisper it. Honestly, Neil needs to know now. Simply the name of whatever it is makes him scream in anticipation. Dead Poets Society. It's like a secret cult of poetry.

The English teacher gives them all a glance, and he grins again, fidgeting with the book like he's thinking. Then, he turns his head, “Gentlemen, can you keep a secret?”

Almost immediately, all the boys nod, and they crouch down, or lean over in favour of keeping quiet. Neil can't help his knee bouncing in anticipation once again, like this morning at the table, and he watches Keating closely. Behind him, he can hear the curious whispers of his friends before they all die down, and all of their focus lies on the man kneeling before them. Tell us. It's what they're all thinking, quite evidently, and then, Keating does tell them.

“The Dead Poets dedicated to sucking the marrow out of life,” he says, and it's not not what Neil was expecting, “That's a phrase of Thoreau we would invoke at the beginning of every meeting.”

Meeting. Neil smiles slightly, but it dies down just as quickly, because he's concentrating on his thoughts. What could it be? What was it? He has to know. A meeting indicates a group, a club, maybe actually a cult. Neil still feels the whirring of excitement in his lungs, and he's hanging on Keating's words like a fish on the end of a fishing rod's hook. Involuntary, but in this case, not unwelcomed. 

“We would all gather at the old Indian cave, and we'd take turns reading from all the biggies. Thoreau, Whitman, Shelley, you know,” Keating says, “Even some of our own poetry. Then, in the enchantment of the moment, we'd let poetry work its magic.”

Of course, Knox is the first one to speak, “So…It was just a bunch of guys reading poetry?”

“No! We weren't just guys, we were romantics, and we didn't read the poetry, we let it drip from our tongues like honey,” Keating responds with a grin, motioning to his mouth like he actually means it, Neil smiles widely, “Spirits soared, women swooned, and gods were created, gentlemen. Not a bad way to spend an evening, eh?”

It seems like all of the boys are rendered speechless, and Neil looks at the teacher with wide, inspired eyes. He feels inspired, he is. It's just so strange to hear someone talk about something Neil has never considered before, and feel the urge to do it, as well. Then, when Keating stands up, and returns the book to Neil, he is still smiling, and so are his friends. Not bright smiles, not big smiles, no. Small, distant, thoughtful smiles.

“Thank you, Mr. Perry, for this horrendous stroll down amnesia lane,” Keating speaks, grinning a little, as he always does, “Burn that, please. Especially my picture.”

Neil is still there, crouching on the ground, and he's staring at the grass with a distant gaze. He hears the whistle from Keating, and as it gets quieter with the distance, he feels the scream in his heart yell louder. Poetry. Or, Dead Poets Society. It screams, and yells, and claws at his chest. “Dead Poets Society,” he mutters as he closes his eyes to think, opening them again when Cameron questions his words. 

Suddenly, the bell rings, and Neil is ripped from his thoughts. He stands, although a little wobbly from resting his weight on his knees the entire time, and then he looks up at the sky.

“I say we go tonight,” he hums, directing his gaze over at Charlie. It's a good idea, a great one, the best one he's ever had. His eyes glance toward Todd, who looks properly troubled, and all of the boys start to question Neil's request. Or, well, his choice, more like.

“What?” Says one.

Pitts questions, “Where even is it?”

“I know where the cave is, just up the stream,” Neil grins, listening to the voice of a teacher in the distance.

“That's miles!” Pitts mutters, and they all start moving toward the buildings, knowing very well they'll be yelled at to come inside if they don't hurry.

Cameron complains, “Sounds boring to me.”

“Don't go!” Charlie smiles. 

“Do you know how many demerits we're talking, Dalton?”

“So don't come, please!” 

Cameron sighs, and Neil simply keeps walking, turning the idea over in his head. He already thinks about how to pull it off, what time they go, what time they return, which way they take, and what poetry they read. He also really wants his roommate to come, because Todd is simply a mystery to him, and he'd do anything to solve it.

“I'm just saying we'll have to be careful or we'll get caught!” 

Charlie snorts, “No shit, Sherlock.”

Suddenly, Hager yells at them from the entrance, pointing an arm at them. “You boys there, hurry up!” He calls out, and in protest, Neil stops, and spins around to face his friends.

“Alright, who's in?” He asks.

Cameron frowns in fear, or worry, “Come on, Neil, Hager's right there—”

“Forget Hager. No. Who's in?” Neil asks again, and he's smiling so much it's a little stupid.

Luckily, Charlie saves him from the silence, “I'm in!”

“I'm warning you, move!” Hager yells somewhere behind Neil, but he's not moving, no. At least not now, not when the teacher tells him to. Carpe Diem . His new favourite words. He'll stay here a little longer. 

After a short while of silence, Cameron sighs, furrowing his eyebrows, “Me too.”

Pitts is the first to leave, listening to Hager, and moving toward the building. “I don't know, Neil,” he huffs, not looking at his friend, and Neil smiles.

“What? Pitts!”

Charlie tunes in, “Pittsie, come on!”

“His grades are hurting,” Meeks hums, and they all start walking toward the building now, following their tall, lanky friend. It's funny, simply because it's Pitts who's quite literally building a radio with Meeks, something that could get them in huge trouble.

Neil glances over his shoulder as they walk, “You can help him, Meeks.”

All of them speed up, and Pitts rolls his eyes as he looks at Neil. “What is this, a midnight's study group?” He sighs before looking back at Hager, practically jogging now.

“Forget it, you're coming,” Neil hums, patting Pitts' shoulder before glancing back, “Your grades hurting, too, Meeks?”

“I'll try everything once,” the boy with glasses returns.

“Except sex!”

Meeks rolls his eyes, “Ha. Ha.”

Even though his friends start to bicker, Neil can't slow down as he rushes up the stairs. He's so happy. It's going to be the best, just them in some stupid cave, and reading poetry. How cool is that? Neil feels the breath in his lungs double, and he has never been more energetic. Shit. This is really going to be amazing, isn't it?

As soon as they settle in their next class, they start to talk about it. They get out a map— thank the lord they had one in the classroom —, and start talking about where to go. 

Still, Neil is a little distracted, and when the teacher tells them to sit down, he doesn't sit where his friends are.

With a few big steps, Neil rushes up to the table that's the emptiest, and he slides his book over so it's next to Todd's. Then, he sits down next to the blond, and leans in close, whispering, “Hey, Todd, you coming tonight?”

“No,” the boy mutters.

Something sinks in Neil's heart, and he feels confused, because how could Todd not feel inspired by Keating, too? How can he not feel ecstatic just thinking about their little trip? “What? Why? You heard what Keating said, don't you want to—” he starts.

“Yes, yes!” Todd huffs, turning his head, and looking everywhere but Neil for a moment, “Yes, but…Uh.”

Neil smiles, “But—But what?”

“Well—Well, Keating said that everybody…Took turns reading,” Todd says now, a little louder, and he's still not looking at Neil, which is getting a little annoying, “I don't wanna do that.”

It takes the break of a second for Neil to process the blond's words, and he scans Todd's face curiously. He remembers that he hasn't said much at all to most people, and that he's quiet. So that's it. Is Todd simply shy? Anxious, maybe. Neil can't help but find it a little strange, or maybe even funny, but he knows that's rude. After all, if Todd really is scared of reading out loud, that's fine. Neil honestly doesn't mind. 

“Gosh, you really have a problem with that, don't you?” he asks, even though he didn't mean to sound so harsh.

Then, Todd gapes for just a moment before speaking again, “No—Neil, I don't—I don't have a problem with—I just…I don't wanna do it, okay?”

“Alright,” Neil says without thinking.

Todd doesn't say anything. It's quiet except for the whispered chatter in the background, and Neil thinks. There has to be a solution, an easy one. It doesn't matter, does it? If Todd reads or not. Sure, maybe it was a rule before, but the Dead Poets Society is theirs now, so what is stopping them from changing that rule? It's a good idea, one that will make Todd more comfortable, it will make it more easy.

“So, what if you didn't have to read? What if you just came and listened?” Neil asks, looking at Todd with a smile. Somehow, he only notices it now, but Todd really sucks at keeping eye contact.

“That's not how it works,” he tries, but Neil shakes his head.

He grins, “Forget how it works! What if—What if they said it was okay?”

They will. Neil is sure of it, they will say yes, they'll want Todd there. Maybe not all of them, but enough, and even if not, Neil wants him there. He'll find a way. Finally, Todd meets his eyes before turning his gaze away again, and he awkwardly looks down at his school work. “What? Are you just…Going to walk up to them and ask if…,” he mutters, clearly not very convinced. So, he's getting convinced. Neil shrugs. “No, no—” Todd says immediately.

“I'll be right back,” Neil says easily, standing up. 

Todd's anxious voice tries to get him to come back, “Neil. Neil!”

Without any trouble, Neil sits down next to his friends on the other table. They're all a little confused, and just when he tries to speak, the teacher butts in once again. “Oh, shut up, will you?” He complains, making Neil sigh.

Well, he'll have to be quiet.

“Guys, guys,” Neil whispers, and all of his friends look at him with raised eyebrows, and expectant expressions, “I have a question. Todd wants to come tonight, but he doesn't want to read. Is it okay if he just listens?”

No one says anything for a moment, and Pitts glances over his shoulder to look at the teacher. Charlie is the first to speak, shrugging. “I don't mind, he does have to bring food, though,” he whispers back with a crooked grin, glancing over at the others. It's clear that Cameron is having a debate in his own head, and then he sighs. “Fine, but then no one has to read, we'll just go with whatever we have,” he mutters, and most of the boys nod in agreement. Well, that's settled then. Neil is honestly glad that his friends agreed so easily, especially Cameron. He was fully prepared for an argument with the ginger. Again.

Just when Neil grins, and stands up, the teacher yells, “Mr. Perry, will you just stay put?!”

Great. 

Now he has to leave Todd anxious and waiting for the rest of class. If that isn't enough to drive the poor boy crazy, then Neil is sure the meeting itself will.

It isn't until curfew that Neil finally gets to tell Todd. They haven't seen each other, because for some reason, Todd rushed out of class so quickly that Neil was unable to follow.

So, he walks into the cramped room, full with five or seven teenage boys, and Neil gently slaps Todd's shoulder. “You're in,” he hums, and the blond boy stares at him with a confused gaze. However, Neil is leaving again, rushing into their dorm. There's a lot of sounds from everywhere in the building, and once a teacher complains about the noise, and all of it dies down, Neil grins. They all go back to their dorms, but he stays at the door, and waits for all the teachers to leave to their own room.

Once the coast is clear, Neil grins even harder, and he closes the door even though he has no idea where Todd is. He opens his closet, and takes out a flashlight. 

Then, his eyes drag over to his desk. A thick book rests upon it, and he's staring at it with an intrigued gaze. Centuries of verse. It looks worn out, like it's older than the school, and Neil picks it up gently, sitting down on the chair next to the desk. When he opens it, the paper is near to a light brown, and it gives the book more charm rather than lessening it.

On the first page with written words, Neil sees something interesting.

Dead Poets

       - J. Keating

A grin settles on Neil's lips, and he reads through the words in a loopy, cursive writing. The opening words for a meeting. Somehow, Neil knows who put the book there, because of course Keating would know what they're up to. It's probably him who gently pulled out the annual in the library, just enough for Neil to notice it. Brilliant man.

“Neil?”

The boy looks up to see Todd enter the dorm, and then he grins, motioning for his roommate to come closer.

“Look what Keating left for us,” Neil hums happily, and Todd stands beside him, leaning closer ever so slightly to glance inside the book. He showered later again. Todd smells like cheap soap, and books. It makes Neil's smile soften. “Who reads it?” The blond boy asks, pointing at the opening poem, and Neil tilts his head. 

A small chuckle leaves his lips as he turns his head over to look at Todd, “Well, me, of course!” 

“Of course,” Todd muses, and he walks over to his bed to get something Neil can't see. Maybe a flashlight, too. 

They still have a while before they leave, and Neil takes this time with gratitude, standing up to spin around. He walks over to stand beside the window, and he sits on their radiator again. It's turned off, even though it's quite cold. The school doesn't like wasting energy. “You are coming, right?” Neil asks when Todd sits down on his bed, almost looking like he's about to go to sleep. It alarms something in the taller boy.

“Yes, yes, I'm just—,” Todd mutters, and he glances at Neil before shaking his head, “You talk to me, sure. We're roommates, so of course you do. I just don't think your friends like me, exactly. Think I'm stiff, probably.”

Neil scoffs, a smile on his lips, “Still bothered by what Cameron said?”

“A little,” Todd admits, and his voice is so quiet, and soft, and Neil finds it endearing in a way. It's a nice change of pace—someone just speaking, not joking, or yelling, or laughing. 

Neil decides, then, that he'll make Cameron apologise. 

~×~

Chapter Text

~×~

The first meeting of the Dead Poets Society is like a rebirth to Neil.

Maybe it sounds stupid, but they run through the woods in thin clothing, and yell out in excitement, and laugh at each other's jokes in a dark cave, tell each other scary stories, and chant poems like it's the purpose of life, they even eat stolen snacks from their school's kitchen. Everything is perfect. To Neil, this night is like a dip into ice cold water on a sweaty summer night. 

Another thing that makes him feel ecstatic, is that he's seen Todd laugh, too. It's unbearably exciting to finally crack open parts of the shell. 

When they get back, Neil happily wishes his friends a good night in the hallway, speaking in a hushed tone. He watches as Todd returns to their dorm first, and then he laughs a little at Charlie's grin when they part. Neil can't help his smile living forever on his thin lips as he floats into the room, and closes the door quietly. “Todd, how did you like it?” He asks, and his head tilts automatically, watching his roommate shed his coat. 

The blond turns his head, folding the piece of clothing before draping it over his desk chair. “It was nice. You seem excited,” he hums, and there's a small, genuine smile on his lips.

“Of course!” Neil laughs, and Todd shushes him with an amused smile, “Sorry.”

After a short moment, they both let out a snort, and then, they sit down on their beds. It's dark, and probably only few hours until sunrise. Neil stares at the window with a dazed gaze, and he can't help but feel change in the air he's breathing, it's amazing. “Carpe Diem,” he hums, like it's his new prayer. It is. Keating simply came to their school, and changed Neil's entire worldview. How is that even possible?

“I liked it a lot.”

Neil glances over at Todd, who's staring at the ground with a distant smile, his blue eyes almost a little unfocused. “Yeah?” he questions.

“Yeah,” Todd confirms. 

Knowing that the blond liked it makes Neil only happier, and he grins, nodding a few too many times. Their lives were changed tonight, not only his, but all of their lives. Even after a few minutes of silence, and even when Todd lies back on his bed—legs still dangling off—, Neil looks at him thoughtfully, a smile never leaving his lips. “Penny for your thoughts?” he says, then, and Todd lets out a small snort, giving a shrug that Neil doesn't even see properly. 

“I'm just—I guess I'm happy,” Todd says, and it makes Neil smile a little more, “All my life, I kind of—I never got acknowledged. Tonight, I felt unforgettable for the first time in a while.”

The words sting a little in Neil's chest, because he thinks that no one should ever be forgotten. No one. Ever. Especially not Todd. It breaks his heart a little that people could forget someone in a way that makes them feel like this. For a moment, Neil wonders if that's the reason for Todd's behaviour. Always making himself small, trying to be invisible.

“Well, I guess you'll have to live with that now, because you're embroidered onto my mind, Todd Anderson,” Neil hums with a bright grin, falling back on his own bed, too.

There's a quiet laugh, and it makes Neil happy. Making Todd, the quiet boy, laugh like that—it's amazing. 

Afterwards, they silently go to sleep, like they've never even talked. Quite frankly, there's not much more to say, but Neil smiles giddily as he pulls his sheets over himself, turning to face the wall, and remembering the events of the night.

It's a surprise to none when the entire week goes by with unforgettable memories from English class. 

The impressionable impressions from Keating that make the boys laugh, or even the strange reading with funny voices. It all feels like a break from their undoubtedly exhausting life. Whether a teacher makes the students listen, or if the students choose to listen to the teacher makes a ginormous difference in the end. 

On Wednesday, the English lessons are quite bizarre, and Neil stares at Keating as the man steps up onto his desk. 

“Gentlemen, tell me, why do I stand up here?” the man asks, a lazy smile on his lips like always.

The class is quiet for a while before Charlie answers with a grin. “To feel taller,” he calls out into the classroom, and Keating rings the bell on his desk with his foot. With a strange noise, the teacher tilts his head to one side, and smiles, making the boys laugh.

“Wrong! Thanks for playing anyway,” he hums, standing still again.

Silence overtakes the room like the fog engulfs the forest on an autumn night, and Neil stares at the man standing on his desk like a proud poet, screaming out his truth. “No, gentlemen, I stand upon this table to remind myself to see things differently,” Keating hums, and the class watches in admiration, like they're watching a beautiful play, “People tend to become bitter, and get lost in a life of routine. Don't be like those people, boys, come on up here to see yourself.”

Neil is the first one to stand up, and he walks over to the back of the class where the teacher usually sits. It's rare for students to see the classroom from this perspective, and Neil steps up on the desk, standing next to Keating with wide, curious eyes.

The view is different. 

Not world-changing, no, but different. It's like reading a book, but you can imagine it all from the perspective of a fly on the wall, simply watching—observing. Like living a story silently. 

When Keating steps down from the table, Neil does, too, and he smiles happily at the memory of standing up there. Of seeing the messy, stuffy, small classroom like he's above it all. 

More and more boys step up onto the desk, and jump back down on the other side. “Now, go on, boys! Look around you, don't just jump off the edge like Lemmings,” Keating grins, moving his hand to motion toward the entire classroom, like he's trying to drag the boys' gazes to different parts of the room. It's quite funny to see the boys stand on the desk, looking lost, and Neil grins as he sits down at his table to pack his things.

The bell rings loudly, signalling the end of their school day. 

“Now, along with your essay, I'd like you to write a poem,” the teacher says, and as groans erupt from some of the boys, Keating walks over to the door, and flips the lightswitch multiple times, mimicking their noises, “Yes, yes. On Monday, you will read that poem in front of the class. It can be about anything!”

When Neil glances over at the desk, only three boys are left to climb the desk, and upon it, Todd stands.

“And, Mr. Anderson!” Keating calls out, making the blond boy look at him, his blue eyes wide, and confused. It's almost funny, and then their teacher grins happily. “Don't think I don't know how this assignment scares the hell out of you, you mole!” Keating smiles with no judgement at all, and he turns off the light, causing darkness to engulf the boys still standing or sitting in the classroom.

Neil stands up, and as some of the boys chuckle at the teacher's words, he shakes his head, and nudges their shoulders with a small smile. 

The afternoon sun shines down on the school like it's trying to melt it into the ground, and despite all that, it's still cold, and cloudy. Maybe it's the wind. Neil doesn't really care, honestly, because he's standing in front of the blackboard that's hanging on the hallway wall. On it hangs a piece of paper, and he's staring. 

A play.

Neil blinks, unable to think.

Free tryouts.

Immediately, he rips it from the board, and takes a closer look. The idea turns over in his head like a girl tanning in summer, and he's trying so unbearably hard not to grin—he's failing. 

It makes sense, like a puzzle piece slotting into place, and he really likes the end product. Without really thinking about it properly, he takes a step backward before turning around, and beginning to run. He's rushing toward the dormitories. Neil has to tell Todd. Immediately. So, he runs a little faster, just a bit, and he doesn't even notice the way Charlie greets him in the hallway. 

Neil pushes open the door of his dorm, letting out a happy laugh as he closes it again.

Naturally, he kneels down in front of Todd's bed, grinning so widely his cheeks hurt, and he gives the flyer to his roommate. The blond takes it, staring at it with an intrigued gaze, lips pulled into the smallest, subtlest of smiles. 

“I found it,” Neil says.

Todd chuckles, still looking at the slightly crumpled up—probably from Neil's excited hold—flyer, “Found what?”

“What I wanna do, right now. What's really, really inside of me,” Neil hums, emphasising his words, completely out of breath from his sprint up the stairs.

“A midsummer night's dream?” Todd reads, “What is that?”

Neil tilts his head, still grinning, and he can't stop, “It's a play, dummy!”

A chuckle escapes Todd, and he nods, smiling, and looking completely lost—puzzled. He looks over at Neil, and it doesn't escape the dark haired boy's notice that he's holding eye contact. Todd is getting more comfortable with him. “I—I know that, but…What does it have to do with you?” The blond asks, still looking a little confused, but in a way that's almost sweet. Like he's really trying to understand.

“They're—They're putting it on at Henley Hall,” Neil responds, and he feels his hands trembling in excitement as he whisper-yells the next words, “Open tryouts. Open tryouts!”

Todd still seems a little confused, and he gives one single nod, smile never leaving his lips, “Yes, so?”

It's almost as though the blond is trying to say, get to the point, without being mean, and Neil stands up. He spins around before turning back to Todd with a wide grin. “I'm gonna act!” Neil smiles, and he watches as Todd's face lights up in delight.

Neil lets out an excited yell, and picks up his thin blanket, draping it over his back, and spinning around. 

“Yes. Yes! I'm gonna be an actor!” He decides happily, yelling it out like a declaration of his own fate, “Ever since I remember I've wanted to try this, but my father wouldn't let me. I tried to audition at summer stock last year, but of course that didn't work out with his disapproval!”

It's quiet for a moment, and Neil watches Todd's curious expression as the blond sits there—motionless, frozen, with parted lips as he smiles at his roommate's antics. 

“For the first time in my entire life, I know precisely what I wanna do, and I'm gonna do it, no matter what my father says,” Neil exclaims, quietly, calmly, before he yells out, “Carpe diem!”

He picks up pieces of paper from Todd's desk, climbing onto the chair, and throwing it at the blond dramatically. The other boy lets out a small laugh, trying to catch the paper, and leaning his head back with a fond roll of his eyes. However, then Todd looks a little sceptical, and although he's still smiling, he looks almost doubtful. “Neil, Neil—Hold on,” he sighs, looking down at the mess of paper on his lap, “How will you act if your father won't let you?”

The smile on his lips fades, just a little, and Neil makes a thoughtful expression. He jumps from the chair, and turns over to his own bed, then he walks over to the window, standing in front of the radiator.

“First, I gotta get the part,” he decides, “Then I can worry about that.”

“Just—Won't he kill you if he finds out you auditioned without telling him?”

Neil shakes his head, “No, no, no, no. For all I know he won't have to know about any of this.”

“Neil, that's impossible,” Todd says, sceptical.

“Bullshit, nothing's impossible!”

Neil furrows his eyebrows, and he's still a little out of breath from running around as he watches his roommate, who's gathering the mess that Neil has made on his bed. “Well, why don't you just call him, and ask him? Maybe, he'll say yes,” Todd suggests, clearly unsure about the other boy's plan.

“That's a laugh,” Neil scoffs, taking the blanket off his shoulders, and throwing it back on the bed before turning toward the window, voice breaking, “If I don't ask him, at least I won't be disobeying him.”

Todd sits up noisily, “Yeah, but if he said no, then—”

“Jesus, Todd, who's side are you on?!” Neil yells, turning toward the blond with a frustrated expression. He just wants to dream. Can't he just simply hope for a little while? His gaze is directed toward Todd again, who is frozen up on the edge of the bed, lips parted, and blue eyes wide in surprise as he stares at Neil. It's obvious he doesn't mean it like that, Neil knows he's just worried for him. Still. 

Sadly, Neil takes the flyer back, and turns toward the window again to sit down on the radiator, “I mean, I didn't even audition yet, or gotten the part. Can't I—Can't I even enjoy the idea for a little while?”

The dark haired boy props up his legs on the radiator, and gazes out of the window, watching some of his friends run around, or play. He can see Stick fencing with someone else he doesn't exactly recognise under the mask. Silence. The silence in their dorm kills him, so he looks back over at Todd, who's sitting on his bed properly again—back leaning against the wall, feet dangling off.

“Are you coming to the meeting this afternoon?” Neil asks, softly.

Todd shrugs, unable to make eye contact once again, “I don't know. Maybe.”

All the frustration from the last conversation, from the last week, the last year, his lifetime, bubbles up in Neil's throat, and he sits up on the radiator with a screwed up expression. “Nothing Mr. Keating says means a shit to you, does it, Todd?” He asks harshly, and he tells himself to shut up over, and over again in his mind. Todd doesn't mean it like that, it's not his fault, but Neil can't help it, either. 

“Wh—What is that supposed to mean?” Todd asks, and he's looking at Neil with a troubled expression, fidgeting with the pencil in his hand.

“You're in the club! Being in the club mean—means being stirred up by things!” Neil yells again, and now he's standing up, and pointing at Todd with a scowl on his face, “You look about as stirred up as a cesspool!”

Todd glances to the side, like he's scared to keep the eye contact for too long, and it makes Neil a little sad.

“So—What? You want me out?” Todd asks.

Neil almost wants to groan, “No! I want you in, but being in the club means doing something, and not just saying you're in.”

It's a little mean, because it was Neil who assured Todd that he could simply show up to meetings without having to do anything. Still, the fact that the blond doesn't even frequently show up bothers him, and Neil just wants him to be there, to feel what he does. He's standing at the wall now, looking down at Todd, who looks properly worried.

“Look, Neil, I appreciate this concern, but I—I—I'm not like you, alright?” Todd tries to explain, and Neil simply listens this time, watching the boy shake his head, and fidget with his hands, “You—You—You say things, and people listen, alright? I—I'm not like that.”

Neil almost frowns at that, “Don't you think you could be?”

“No! I—” Todd breathes, turning his head before sighing, and his voice is getting a little louder, “I—I don't know, but that's not the point! Th—The point is that there's nothing you can do about it. So you can just butt out. I can take care of myself just fine. Okay?”

Maybe, Todd is right. Of course he can take care of himself, Neil knows that, it's not like he's mothering him. It's just—Isn't it fine if he wants to take care of Todd? Is that really so wrong? It isn't just pity—although that probably plays a big part, too—, it's also just the fact that Todd seems to have something in his mind, something big. Like there's something bubbling up inside him, and the blond won't let it out. Neil wants to see it—wants to help him.

Can't he?

“No,” Neil mutters, head leaned against the wall, shaking it a little.

Todd, who's gone back to looking down at the paper he's been writing on, looks up in confusion, shrugging one shoulder as he speaks, “What do you mean, no?”

A grin creeps onto Neil's lips, and he looks down before looking back at Todd, “No.”

With a quick movement, Neil snatches the paper from Todd, and turns around to jump onto his own bed. The blond sounds extremely troubled as he flinches up to go after Neil, who's circling the room now. “N—Give me—Neil, give me that back!” Todd yells, jumping on the bed just as the dark haired boy jumps down, running to do the same on Todd's bed, too.

“What's this? ‘We are dreaming of a’—” Neil laughs, crashing into the wall next to Todd's bed as Todd crashes into him, “What is this? Poetry! I'm being chased by Walt Whitman!”

The grin on Neil's face is genuine, and he jumps away from Todd before the shorter boy can grab the paper. A laugh from the blond makes Neil's grin widen, and he repeats the entire process again, jumping and running around their shared room like a madman. 

Suddenly, Todd grabs his arm tightly, and Neil lets out a loud laugh, crashing into his desk, “Ah, okay! Okay!”

Just when the blond gets back his poem, the door opens, and Cameron steps inside, clearly pissed off. “What are you guys doing? I'm trying to—See this? This is the chemistry—,” he starts, but Neil takes the opportunity to take Cameron's homework and continue his escape. He jumps onto Todd's bed while Todd stands on his, and when the red head starts chasing Neil, they go back to circling the room. 

It doesn't take long until Charlie notices from the hallway, and walks inside with a grin, raising an arm, “Here, give it to me! Give it to me!”

More boys enter the room, and Neil has no idea where the squeaky music is coming from, or where Meeks came from, but he's happy again. The little fight with Todd is forgotten, and he watches as the blond is laughing happily at their antics. Neil throws over the book, and Todd catches it with a laugh before letting out a loud, “Whoa!” as both Meeks and Cameron start chasing him.

It's amazing. 

~×~

Chapter Text

~×~

On a cloudy Sunday evening, the day before the English lesson which Todd dreads the most, he hears a loud, booming voice in the hallway. A voice he'd recognise everywhere in the entire universe, honestly. The voice that could say whatever it wanted to, and still make Todd laugh.

“Charlie! I got the part!” Neil yells, and Todd stands up from his bed to walk over to the opened dorm door, “I got it! I'm gonna play Puck! I'm gonna play Puck! The main part, I got it!”

It's not unexpected when all of the boys grin, and congratulate their friend, and Todd stands at the door to their dorm with a stupid smile on his lips, watching as Neil walks around the hallway excitedly. Then, when the dark haired boy walks into their shared room, he clamps their hands together before sitting down at the typewriter. Todd, naturally, sits down on Neil's bed, leaning onto the boy's desk, and watching him.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Neil breathes, and he hasn't even taken off his coat as he puts a piece of paper into the machine.

Todd looks at his roommate—his friend, “Neil, how are you gonna do this?”

“They, uh, need a permission slip from my father, and Mr. Nolan,“ Neil explains, concentrated on what he's doing as his lips are frozen into a dazed grin.

It takes a moment until Todd realises what's happening, and he widens his eyes just a little, “You're not gonna write it—”

“Hell yes I am!”

Todd isn't sure whether to laugh or pray for Neil's wellbeing, but he settles for chuckling worriedly, “Oh, Neil, you're crazy.”

Truly, like a madman, Neil looks at Todd, and leans close. The dark haired boy lets out a strange squawking noise, their foreheads almost touching, before pulling away, and returning to writing the permission slip. Todd smiles widely, and he can't help but feel excited for Neil—simply because it is exciting, and he's happy for his friend. If it's what he wants to do, Neil should be able to pursue it, and Todd will try his best to support him in any way, even if it means letting him fake these documents. 

“Okay, alright,” Neil hums before he starts to read what he's writing out loud, “I am writing to you on behalf of…My son. Neil Perry.”

Despite wanting to support him, Todd feels rather worried as he listens to his friend's laugh, and watches his excited grin. Somehow, just for a moment, it's like time stops, and Todd just stares at Neil with a thoughtful expression. Is this really a good idea? Undoubtedly, it isn't, it never was, but Todd doesn't want to say anything. After all, Neil looks so happy about this, and Todd really does want to see him act.

It'll be fine—hopefully.

Later that evening, just when everyone else is getting ready for bed, Todd is pacing in his dorm. 

In his hands is a piece of paper, the seventh one, to be exact—he has thrown away so much paper, it should be considered a crime. Still, it's not his fault. Todd walks in slow circles around the room, bumping his knees against their beds every now and then, and he doesn't even really register the slight twinge of pain as he mouths the words written on his paper. He brings the pencil in his hand up to his mouth, and gently bites down on it.

The poem sucks.

It is so utterly horrible that Todd wants to scream, wail, and run through a wall. Every word makes him shiver in horror, and the sole idea of having to read anything in front of his class makes the room colder. It's terrifying.

So, Todd decides that his English grade doesn't matter in the end, and he rips apart his poem. No one will care to listen anyway, so why should he read it in the first place? He's sure Keating will say a few funny words about it, calling him a lazy sloth, and then give it up.

“Hey, don't you want to go shower?” Neil's voice suddenly asks from the doorway, and Todd spins around with a surprised expression.

The boy's dark hair is wet, and slicked back on his head, and there's a towel around his shoulders. All of the poetry, and his crisis concerning it, has made Todd forget about his other problem. He slowly shakes his head, like he's contemplating it—he's not. “I'll shower later, or maybe tomorrow morning,” he mutters, and Neil stares at him for a moment before closing the dorm door, and sitting down on his bed.

It's silent for quite a while, and Todd walks over to the bin next to his desk, throwing the ripped apart poem into it with ease. Letting it go certainly isn't the hard part.

“Why do you never shower with everyone else?” Neil asks.

Todd doesn't want to answer that question, for he isn't even sure of the answer himself. Still, it's Neil, so the blond sits down on his bed before shrugging lightly.

“I—I don't like it when people see my body. It's not like I'm embarrassed, per se, I just…Feel uncomfortable,” Todd tries his best to explain, not looking at Neil as he speaks, and fidgeting with his fingers. Then, there's a hum, and he ends up looking at his friend anyway.

The expression on Neil's face isn't judgemental, or confused, no. There sits a gentle smile on his lips, and then he shrugs.

“Okay,” he accepts, and then the grin on his lips widens into something that looks almost amused—not teasing, just genuinely amused, “If you ever need someone to wash your back, I'll close my eyes. Or you can push soap into my eyes to ensure I'm not peeking.”

Those words rip a quiet, but genuine laugh from Todd's throat, and he shakes his head a little, smiling at Neil's stupid jokes. Somehow, he always manages to make him smile. 

It has to be a superpower. 

No one is very surprised when, on Monday, Knox volunteers to read his poem first. It's dedicated to that girl he seems to have a crush on, and whispers erupt in the class, since everyone is clearly amused by the boy's loverboy act. Todd thinks it's kind of sweet, like a tragic romance story. He wouldn't tell Knox that, though.

The poem itself is quite good, and the contents are cheesy, and romantic.

It's clear that Knox is annoyed by the constant snorting, and chuckling in the class after every word he says, but he goes through with it anyway—determination. Although in the end he crumples up the paper, and angrily steps down from the teacher's platform.

“Sorry, captain, it's stupid,” Knox mutters, and Keating stands up from the windowsill he's been sitting on immediately.

“No! No, it's not stupid,” he says, smiling a little, “it's a good effort!”

Wordlessly, Knox walks back to his table, and slumps down into his seat with a sigh. Todd watches him for a moment before looking back at Mr. Keating, hands fidgeting with his pencil on his desk, and knee bouncing under the table anxiously. “It touched one of the major themes! Love,” Keating continues, clearly genuine about what he says, not just trying to cheer Knox up, even if that's probably also one of his motives, “A major theme not only in poetry, but also life.”

Then, Keating grins at one of the boys that were making fun of Knox.

“Mr. Hopkins, you were laughing, you're up,” he says, and the boy sighs deeply, but stands up anyway.

It's silent, and he unfolds a piece of paper.

“The cat…Sat on the mat,” he reads, and then he leaves to go back to the seat.

All the boys chuckle under their breath, and Todd stares forward at the chalkboard in confusion. It's almost amusing, but mainly, Todd has no idea how someone writes something like that—probably as a joke—, and has the bravery to actually read it, while everyone laughs. “Congratulations, Mr. Hopkins, you have written the first poem to ever have a negative score on the Pritchard scale,” Keating teases, and the class laughs a little more, “We're not laughing at you, we're laughing near you.”

Honestly, the poem—even if maybe written as a joke—isn't bad, exactly. At least not in Todd's eyes. Simple things are more fun to interpret, and you can think about things like a cat sitting on a mat for hours on end if you wish to.

“It was a good poem, simplicity is lovely in poetry, even if it's about things like a cat, or the rain, or a flower,” Mr. Keating says, and it makes Todd a little happy, because he's been thinking the same thing, and it validates his opinion in a way, “You see, poetry can come from anything with the stuff of revelation in it, just don't let your poems be ordinary.”

Then, the English teacher turns away from Hopkins, and walks back to the front. There's a smile on his lips, and he glances at Todd.

“Now, who's next?” he asks, and the blond boy wants to run—he doesn't. 

Mr. Keating stops in front of him, but Todd doesn't look up from his desk. He's just sitting there, legs still bouncing under the table, and he's chewing the inner side of his cheek. “Mr. Anderson, I see you sitting there in agony,” Keating says, and then he uses the boy's first name, which is somehow really comforting in a way, but not yet comforting enough, “Come on, Todd, let's put you out of your misery. Step up here, read your poem.”

If Todd knows one thing, it's that teachers get annoyed by undone homework. It's a tactic, and it usually works.

“I—I didn't do it. I didn't write a poem,” he says softly, shaking his head before looking back down at his desk. It's his lifeline, like it's the last thing he's able to hide behind, even though it's quite small.

With a smile on his face, Mr. Keating raises his eyebrow, and he stares Todd down. “Mr. Anderson thinks that everything inside of him is worthless, and embarrassing,” he says, and Todd can't even look at his teacher anymore, because he can feel the eyes of the entire class on him, and he wants to run, “Isn't that right, boy? Isn't that your worst fear?”

It's silent for a moment, and even though Mr. Keating is so much more than correct, Todd wordlessly prays for him to shut up.

“Well, I think you're wrong,” the teacher hums, and now, Todd glances up at him as he walks over to the chalkboard, “I think you have something big inside of you, something that's worth a lot.”

Mr. Keating writes something, reading it out loud, “I sound my…Barbaric…Yawp…Over the rooftops—the rooftops of the world. W.W.. Uncle Walt, again!”

Todd stares at the writing silently, hoping desperately that nothing of it has to do with him. However, Keating looks at him, and smiles. “For all of you who don't know, a yawp is a loud yell or cry,” he explains in a soft hum, walking back over to the blond boy, “And now, Todd, I'd like you to demonstrate a barbaric yawp.”

Everything inside Todd screws up into a tiny ball of anxiety, and he hears quiet laughter from the back of the class, and he simply wants to leave. He doesn't move, but Keating nudges at his shoulder.

“Come on, Todd, you can't yawp sitting down, get up here, get in yawping stance,” the man says, leading him up onto the teacher's front.

The only thing Todd can hear is the laughter somewhere in the small crowd of students, and he can't even look at them, so he stares at his teacher with a troubled expression. His hands are trembling, and they're sweaty, and he really, really, really wants to go back to his room. He'd take chemistry homework over this any day. 

“A—A yawp?” Todd questions quietly.

“No, no, not just a yawp,” Keating says, standing in front of him, and scrunching up his face ridiculously as he deepens his voice, “A barbaric yawp!”

Todd nods a few times, still unable to look at the boys in front of him, “Right, right. Yawp.”

“Come on, louder!” Keating prompts.

“...Yawp.”

“Oh, no, that's a mouse! Louder!”

“Yawp!”

Keating is shouting now, getting closer to Todd, “Oh, good God, boy. Yell like a man!—”

“Yawp!” Todd yells, right into Keating's face.

The teacher looks pleased, stretching out his arms like he's saying, told you so. “Well, there it is! You see, you have a barbarian in you after all,” he hums, and Todd looks at him with parted lips, and a confused gaze. Of course this was some sort of stupid bravery test. Really, Todd appreciates it, that someone still tries to help him, but he just…He just can't.

Just when Todd wants to leave back to his seat, Keating stops him, and turns him around. 

“No, boy, you're not getting away that easily,” he says, wrapping an arm around Todd's shoulders, “There, look at that picture of Uncle Walt up there.”

Somehow, this is making him only more anxious.

“Now, what does he look like to you? Don't think, just answer,” Keating hums, and he starts circling Todd like a hawk—it's terrible.

“A—A madman.”

“What kind of madman? Come on, don't think,” the teacher says, and he's still walking around him.

Todd scrunches up his face slightly, trying to turn with Keating so he's looking at him, but it's overwhelming him a little. “A cr—A crazy madman,” he settles for, and that doesn't even make sense.

“Oh, you can do better than that, free up your mind! Use your imagination, go on!” Keating rambles, and he's talking so fast, and Todd is turning with the man now, “Say the first thing that pops into your head even if it's total nonsense, it doesn't matter—”

“Uh—A—A sweaty-toothed madman.”

Todd has no idea what that even means.

“Good God, boy, there's a poet in you after all!” Keating grins, pointing at the boy, but Todd can only hear the laughter in the classroom, “There, close your eyes. Close—Here, close them.”

Without much of a choice, he closes his eyes after Keating presses a hand to his face, and holds his head gently. Then, he spins him around, and Todd can't see his classmates, or Mr. Keating. God, he doesn't like this, not at all. 

“Now, describe what you see.”

Void.

Emptiness.

Darkness.

“Uh—I—I close my eyes,” Todd says.

“Yes?”

“And this image floats beside me—”

“A sweaty-toothed madman.”

“—A sweaty-toothed madman,” Todd's voice is shaking, “with a stare that pounds my brain.”

He can hear Keating's voice praising him, “Oh, that's excellent! Now, give him action. What is he doing?”

“H—His hands reach out, and—and choke me.”

“Yes, that's it, wonderful, wonderful.”

Suddenly, Keating's hand leaves his face, but he still keeps his eyes closed, because he can't breathe— he really is being choked.

“And—And all the time he's mumbling,” Todd mutters.

“What's he mumbling?”

“Mumbling truth,” he says, “Truth, like—like a blanket that always leaves your feet cold.”

There's laughter, and Todd opens his eyes, and he's so scared. 

Quickly, Keating covers his eyes again, and shakes his head. “No, no, forget them. Forget them! Stay with the blanket,” his teacher says, “Tell me about that blanket, boy ”

Todd can't breathe. He feels himself hyperventilating as Keating gently holds him by his shoulders.

“Y—Y—You can push it, stretch it, it'll never be enough,” like he will never be enough.

God, he can't breathe, he's about to cry. 

“You kick at it, beat it, it'll never cover any of us,” Todd says, and it's a harsh tone, because the entire situation makes him so angry.

The hands on his shoulders leave, and he tries to focus on his shaky, sweaty palms, and the image that's forming pathetically behind his black vision.

“From the moment we enter crying, to—to the moment we leave dying,” his voice is breaking, “it'll just cover your face, as you wail…, and cry, and scream.”

Todd opens his eyes, and he can see Mr. Keating crouching down in front of all the other boys, and everyone is looking at him. It's hard to breathe, and Todd desperately wants to wail, cry, and scream, just like he's described seconds before. 

Then, suddenly, his eyes find Neil. The dark haired boy is looking at him with parted lips, and wide, admiring eyes, and Todd can feel his breathing calm down. They keep eye contact, and his heartbeat slows as he fidgets with the ends of his sleeves anxiously. No laughing. No one is laughing anymore. Instead, there's clapping. Applause, and Todd feels the corners of his lips turn up into a small, relieved smile. His eyes are a little glassy, and he's out of breath. Terrifying. It was terrifying, so unbearably terrifying. 

Keating stands up, and pulls their foreheads together by the back of Todd's head. “Never forget this, boy,” the teacher hums, and he looks so genuinely proud that it makes Todd a little sad. 

Now, there's tears in his eyes, and he watches the boys in his class—they're still clapping, and whistling, and yelling. 

After class, they all play soccer. All the other poems were good, they really were, but sadly they couldn't make everyone read them, which makes Todd a little angry that he had to perform his nonexistent poem anyway— despite the lack of time. It appears to him that Keating wants to help him, and it's working, miraculously. Not entirely, but partially, and it's fine now.

The game they play is messy, and Keating has put on music again, on the record player that he's taken outside twice already.

At some point by the end of it all, Todd shoots the winning goal, and he feels so—so ecstatic that he screams out, and jumps. Then, he finds Neil on the field, and he rushes up to him. With newfound energy, Todd tackles him to the ground with a wide grin, which the boy reciprocates, before three or four other boys join them. Everyone is laughing. Even Mr. Keating seems to be having the fun of his life.

Well, that is until they all collectively run up to their teacher, and start picking him up. 

“Come on, guys, we'll throw him into the lake!” Charlie laughs loudly as they work together to pull Mr. Keating onto their shoulders. The man yells out in amusement, and he holds onto them for security.

Todd can't keep himself from laughing, and grinning, and they run toward the lake, with their English teacher on their shoulders.

“Boys, boys!” Keating laughs loudly, but all of them are screaming, yelling, and cheering.

Once they reach the lake, they throw their teacher into it with loud exclaims of victory, and Mr. Keating doesn't seem annoyed in the least as he reaches the surface again. In fact, he lets out a loud whooping sound, like he's also celebrating their victory. Todd isn't quite sure, but he guesses it's Charlie who jumps into the lake first, closely followed by Meeks, and Neil.

“Holy shit, it's so cold!” 

Todd laughs, and watches as Pitts, and Knox jump in as well. Even Cameron, who looks properly unsure, seems to be shedding his clothes—the others went in fully clothed. “Okay, fine, just today, but if I get sick, I'm gonna be a pain in the ass,” Cameron huffs, and then he stands at the edge of the dock.

“You already are!” Charlie laughs before he gets pushed underwater by Neil, who looks the happiest he's been in a while.

Now, Todd is the only one still there, and he watches as Cameron immediately gets pushed back down once he comes up to the surface. It's amazing, watching it all. Even Mr. Keating is a victim of being dunked, mainly by Charlie and Knox, who are usually the ones to start unnecessary mischief—it's good, though. Todd likes their stupid ideas, and the way they always go wrong in all the right ways.

“Anderson, come on!” Knox yells from the water, and Todd snaps out of his thoughts.

Suddenly, anxiety builds up in his stomach again. It's not like he has to undress, but he'll have to later if he goes in with clothes. His eyes find Neil in panic, and the boy looks thoughtful for a moment. Then, suddenly, Knox is being dunked underwater by Neil, and everyone laughs.

Todd smiles, and he crouches down at the edge of the dock, watching as Neil swims towards him, propping himself up on the wood.

“Thank you,” the blond mutters, but Neil only grins.

Then he tilts his head happily, “Your poem was amazing, you know? I didn't laugh once, I thought it was great. I mean it, really.”

The fact that Neil even clarified that he hasn't laughed means a ridiculous amount to Todd, and he hums with a nod. It makes him happy—that Neil liked the nonsense he's spouted earlier. “Do you really not want to swim?” Neil asks now, and it brings a bashful smile to Todd's lips as he shakes his head now with a shrug.

“I—I don't really think it's a good idea, I mean I'll have to change anyway, and I can't just wait in our dorm—dripping wet—until everyone's done,” Todd explains quietly, watching as the other boys resume to roughhousing behind Neil—and bullying their poor English teacher, who clearly doesn't seem to mind. 

Neil nods, then he grins, “Just change in the dorm, I'll bring you a towel. Alright?”

“Neil, I—,” Todd starts, and then he sighs, “Our dorm doesn't—doesn't have a key or anything, so I can't just…You know.”

“You can. I'll just watch the door, I can dry in the hallway,” Neil grins brightly, “Just have some fun with us today?”

Those words make something in Todd's stomach curl, and he looks at his friend with a thoughtful gaze, then he lets out a long sigh. Before he's even able to properly nod, Neil grips his arm tightly, and pulls him into the lake, which makes all of the boys in it whoop excitedly. 

They all want him there. 

~×~

Chapter Text

~×~

The door of Keating's room is strangely small, and the wood looks old. It probably makes a loud sound when knocking.

Todd stands in front of it with his fist raised, lips parted in wonder, and eyebrows furrowed. He should knock. If he really wants something, he should knock. After all, what's going to happen if he doesn't, and he just stands there? Nothing. He knows that. It doesn't make it easier. 

Then, he takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and brings his fist down against the wood loudly. 

One, two, three.

Somehow, Todd thinks that knocking three times is an unspoken rule. At least with most people he's met, because the only ones who don't knock three times are his friends, who don't knock at all, or knock six times in a row. It's a little stupid, and Todd loves when they do it. 

The door opens suddenly, and he immediately tenses, straightening his back for no real reason. In front of him stands Mr. Keating with tousled hair, but still wearing his suit. So, he wasn't trying to sleep, that's good. There's a lamp lit inside the room, and Todd feels a little relieved that he didn't disturb his teacher's sleep, or anything of the likes. “Mr. Anderson, out so dangerously, right after curfew, what a surprise. How may I help you?” The man asks with a grin that's so obviously friendly, and Todd gives him the smallest of smiles back.

“I—Can I talk to you?” He asks quietly, glancing down at the floor, “There's something going on, and I don't know what to do.”

It takes a moment, so it's silent for a while, and Todd looks back up at Keating, who looks almost thoughtful. Still, the grin is plastered across his face, even if his eyes are unfocusing. Then, he nods a few times, and pats Todd's shoulder gently, nudging him inside. “Of course, of course. Come here, sit down at the desk,” Mr. Keating hums, and Todd listens, sitting down on the chair next to the desk.

The teacher leans against the table, and smiles down at the boy, waiting patiently for him to say something.

Though, Todd has started to regret coming here, because what is he even going to say? Of course he won't rat Neil out, but he's so—so worried. How can anyone blame him for wanting some advice? Seriously, he's just scared, and he doesn't want Neil to get into trouble. He's the least deserving of it out of everyone, so Todd just wants him to be careful. 

“Say, captain, I—if you had a friend,” Todd starts, glancing at Keating, who is raising his eyebrows, “If you had a friend, and he was doing something that could go horribly wrong in the end, but it makes him so happy, what would you do? Because—I'm unsure.”

There's a hum from Mr. Keating, and the man closes his eyes as Todd watches him think. It's not a hypothetical question, and it seems to him that Keating knows exactly what this is about to some extent. Still, it's the only source of advice Todd has, he can't possibly ask anyone else. His family? He doubts they ever had true friends in general. Well, he could ask his brother, but they're…He can't. So, Todd sits here, asking his English teacher for desperate advice regarding Neil, even though he hasn't said who he was talking about—Keating probably knows.

“Well, Todd,” the man says, smiling, “Do you think he would regret doing it once it goes wrong?”

The question catches Todd off guard, because he hasn't exactly thought about it like that. Would Neil regret it? That's a mean question, because how should he know? Todd can't possibly look into the other boy's mind.

“I—I don't know,” he mutters.

“See,” Keating hums, “I think you should let your friend try. After all, maybe it won't go wrong, and if it does, he has an amazing friend here to help him, doesn't he?” 

That brings a genuine smile to Todd's lips, and even though he's not sure if he really could help Neil, he will do anything to try. He's important to him, truly the most important person in Todd's life yet, and he wants to help. So, he will support him. With acting—With his family, anything. Todd will try, he will try his absolute best, because Neil has helped him, too. So much. It's only fair of him to return the favour in some way.

“Thank you, captain,” Todd smiles, fidgeting with his fingers as he thinks.

Just when he stands up, Keating puts a gentle hand on his shoulder, making the boy turn around a little puzzled. The man grins, and nods his head.

“I had a friend who was very dear to me when I attended this school. He did something horribly stupid, I didn't even try to help him, and I never got him back,” Mr. Keating explains in a soft voice, so soft that Todd can barely follow his words, “Even though this story played out in completely different times, what I'm saying is; don't let the world rip you apart. Always stay by his side, alright?”

The sudden story from his teacher makes Todd almost stumble back, because he's never thought about the fact that Keating has attended Welton during a very specific time. It should've been around the 1950s. In other words, Keating attended Welton during the second world war, didn't he? Todd feels something turn in his stomach uncomfortably, and he nods at his teacher's words.

Honestly, he doesn't even want to think about what has happened to Keating's friend—the one he mentioned.

“Thank you,” Todd hums quietly, and he nods his head once, “Good night, captain.”

Without any other words, Keating nods, and Todd leaves the room silently. The door closes with a scary creak, and the hallways are dark, since it's already past curfew. Todd is surprised by his own courage, since he's out at this time, and visiting his teacher no less. 

The way back to his dorm is strangely easy, which is to be expected when most teachers are minding their own business, or sleeping. Todd walks through the dark hallways silently, noticing that the dorm doors are all closed now. Earlier the dorm of Charlie and Cameron was opened, not enough for them to see him, but still. As soon as Todd is in front of his own dorm, which is also closed, he silently prays for Neil to be asleep. After all, he kind of lied to him by saying he'd go shower, and he was, but not only, and he's sure that no one showers this long. 

Carefully, Todd opens the door, and peeks inside before opening it fully. He walks in, and closes the door again, with the same care. After all, those doors are horribly loud when closed wrongly. 

It seems like Neil is asleep, so Todd lets out a quiet sigh of relief, walking over to his bed, and sitting down. The room is really, really warm. So, he feels at the heater to see if it's on, and quickly pulls his hand away once he knows it is. It's hot. Then, he lays back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, and thinking about Keating's words. He's probably right. Todd should just let Neil do it, especially since he's been wanting to act for so long.

It's just that Todd is scared. He's seen Neil's father, and he knows exactly that their relationship is already strained. Leaning on it in this way will only make it worse, and Todd doesn't want Neil to be locked into his home for the rest of eternity. 

“You're back.”

Todd flinches to sit up, looking over at Neil's bed to see nothing but the boy's bare back. Then, Neil turns around, and grins a little as he sees Todd looking so startled.

“I thought you've fallen asleep,” the blond mutters, and it's so obvious in his voice that he's hiding something, it makes him want to scream.

Neil hums, “I did fall asleep, but I woke up because the radiator was making it so warm. Then I noticed you weren't back yet, and so I decided to wait.” 

“Oh.”

It's all Todd says, because he's not sure what else to free from the knot in his throat. There's a few things he wants to say to Neil, all of the time, really, but that's the only thing he manages. “Oh,” the dark haired boy mimics with a snort, and he sounds a little tired. It makes Todd smile worriedly, and he shrugs, because he also doesn't know what to do. “It's just—You didn't have to wait, you know,” he says now, and it's true, even if he mostly says it to distract from the time he took to get back.

It's silent, and Todd lies down on his side on the bed, so he can still see Neil. The other boy is staring at him, and it's almost funny, because this has happened a surprising amount of times—just them staring at each other when they can't sleep. Well, now it's probably not because of that, though.

“Your hair is almost dry,” Neil notices, and Todd curses internally, nodding awkwardly.

He picks up a strand of hair, and shrugs silently, because he can't even talk himself out of that one. What's he supposed to say? He ran around outside to let it dry quicker? Funny. 

“What—Do you have a secret girlfriend or something?” Neil laughs, but he sounds quite unamused, and Todd parts his lips in confusion, because that's not the accusation he expected, “I bet most of the boys here do, don't they? A girlfriend they meet up with in secret.”

Todd hums, “Maybe. I don't, though.”

It's unnecessary to say, because of course he doesn't, Neil would know if he did. Still, he says it, because he feels the need to assure his friend. I'm lonely, too. Like it's something kind to say, especially after lying to him.

“Where were you, then?” Neil asks, and of course he does, because it's him.

Todd doesn't know how to answer though, but he settles for some twisted version of the truth. That way he feels less guilty. “I talked to Keating,” he hums, “About that time he made me do the poem in front of class.”

It's silent for a second or two.

“Oh, all right,” Neil hums, and then he turns around again, stretching his arms over his head, “Well, goodnight.”

Before Todd can wish the boy the same, Neil speaks up again.

“By the way, it gets really warm under the blanket, so sleep without one, or shed some of your clothes.”

Todd hums in understanding, because he felt the difference in temperature from the hallway to their dorm. So, he sits up again, and pulls at the hem of his shirt. Suddenly, he freezes up, and stares at the ground. Oh. Wait. He's—He feels uncomfortable with people seeing his body. Why was he about to just undress that easily? 

Quickly, Todd takes away his hands from his shirt, and lies back down on his bed. 

Just sleep without a blanket.

~×~

The cave smells like smoke, and Todd puts on the pipe that's resting between his lips. Evenings like these are what makes being a poet so strange, because he's sure that even the big ones spent their days like this, although maybe not with friends. Most poets are lonely, it seems. Todd should know, even if it's a little depressing.

Pitts takes a deep inhale of his own pipe, and starts coughing, which makes Charlie grin deviously, laughing. “Attaboy, Pittsie, inhale it all,” he hums, taking a drag, too. They all have their own pipes, which is an extreme amount of pipes to own.

“My dad collects a lot of pipes,” Meeks says, starting a conversation about it.

“Really? Mine has like, thirty.”

Suddenly, Pitts moves his head forward, and grins sarcastically, “Your dads collect pipes? Wow, that's really interesting.”

They all start laughing, and Todd does, too, chewing a little on the pipe even though he knows he's not supposed to. Then, Charlie turns over to Knox, and smiles. “Come on, join us,” he hums, but the other boy only frowns, taking a small drag of his pipe. Todd can already guess what it's about, but all the other boys start questioning Knox. Making jokes.

Then, all of them guess it in sync, “It's Chris!”

“Here's a picture of Chris for you,” Pitts laughs, pulling out the long poster of a naked woman that Charlie brought to their first meeting. All of them laugh again, but Knox doesn't seem very amused.  “Put that in your pipe and smoke it, 'cause that's not funny,” he says, pointing at the laughing boy while Charlie lets out whistles to get their attention.

He quickly saves Knox from the embarrassment, “Knock it off, and keep smoking your pipes!”

Everyone goes back to quietly smoking, and Todd leans his head against the stone behind him, closing his eyes, and silently praying for Neil to show up finally. It works apparently, because as soon as the thought takes its first breath, Meeks calls out, “Neil!”

Todd opens his eyes to see Neil climbing into the cave with a strange lamp under his arm.

“Friends, scholars, Welton men,” he grins while all of the other boys interrupt his words with short comments that Todd can't even hear properly. Why are they all so messy? It's amusing. 

As soon as the others take note of the lamp, they're confused—so is Todd. “What is that, Neil?” Meeks asks the question they're all thinking.

“Duh, it's a lamp, Meeks,” Pitts answers, and he gets proven wrong by Neil immediately.

The dark haired boy shakes his head with a stupid smile as he sits down next to Todd, who sits up straight, and turns around to look at his friend. “No, this is the god of the cave,” Neil hums proudly, taking the cover off the lamp to reveal a strange figure. It's very weird, but honestly, Todd only grins, because of course Neil would think of something like that. “The god of the cave?” Meeks asks with an amused smile, raising an eyebrow. 

Charlie suddenly plays a loud tone on his saxophone, and Todd flinches, looking at him.

“What do you say we finally start this meeting?” he asks, and after a bit of mumbling from the other boys, he stands up, smiling, “Gentlemen, ‘Poetrusic’, by Charlie Dalton.”

Todd looks up at him with an expectant expression, just like the rest of their little group, but while the others exclaim in surprise or tease him, Todd just sits there. Then, Charlie starts playing some horrible tunes, and honestly, Todd almost wants to cover his ears. “Laughing, crying, tumbling, mumbling. Gotta do more, gotta be more,” Charlie says before playing the same horrible tunes again, “Chaos screaming, chaos dreaming. Gotta do more, gotta be more.”

Suddenly, Charlie plays, and this time, he really plays. It's quite good, actually. Still, it seems that Neil isn't very bothered by their friend's antics, since he's just focusing on putting on his pipe, and Todd watches him for a moment before glancing back at Charlie, who's playing right into Knox's face now, because they all know the other needs some cheering up right now. No one dares to utter a word until Charlie finishes, and sits back down.

Todd is the first to start clapping, closely followed by Pitts, and they're the only ones clapping. Surprisingly, Todd doesn't mind, though. No, it's the opposite, he's kind of proud.

“Wow, that was great, where did you learn to play like that?” Neil asks now, and Todd glances over at him for the break of a minute. The weird lamp sits between his long legs as he's smoking the pipe between his lips. He looks pretty peaceful, and his voice sounds quite a bit rough from the smoke. Todd thinks it kind of suits him. “My parents made me take the clarinet for years,” Charlie explains, finally getting Todd's attention to snap away from Neil.

Cameron raises his eyebrows, “Oh, I love the clarinet.”

Charlie grins, pointing at the redhead, “I hated it!”

They all erupt into laughter, and Todd grins at his friends' stupid antics. All of them are so messy, and unique in ways, really, none of them are the same. It's kind of endearing—the fact that they all found each other despite being so different in every possible way. “The saxophone,” Charlie starts with that smug expression he always wears, “The saxophone is more…Sonorous.”

Immediately, all of the boys act impressed, and Todd snorts in amusement. 

“Ohh, Vocabulary,” Meeks teases with a big grin. 

Suddenly, Knox hits his leg, and scoots back where he's sitting. All of them are rendered silent, and Todd glances over at Neil before looking at Knox with a confused gaze. “I can't take it anymore,” he says, looking properly upset, “If I don't have Chris, I'm gonna kill myself.”

The weight of his words is much heavier than Todd would like, and he stares at his friend with a troubled expression, because it can't be that bad. Haven't they only met each other a while ago? Shouldn't love this desperate take some time? He doesn't get it. Is that girl really so great? That Knox would kill himself over her? No way. How on earth could she be? Seriously.

“Knoxious, you gotta calm down,” Charlie says immediately.

Knox huffs. “ No, Charlie,” he says harshly, “That's just my problem. I've been calm my entire life.”

It's quiet. No one says a word, and Todd is honestly a little worried. Knox proves his worries right when he stands up, and speaks while beginning to leave the cave, “I'm gonna do something about that.”

“Where're you going?” Neil asks, and it's exactly what Todd is thinking, “What are you gonna do?”

Knox only grins, turning around to tell them, “I'm gonna call her!”

As soon as those words leave his lips, all the boys scramble to stand up, cheering in amusement, and excitement. They gather their things while Charlie plays a hectic tune on the sax, then they all rush after him to the only phones in school. Everyone is running so quickly after Knox, that Todd feels a little out of breath as they arrive back at campus, and he starts to slow down a bit. Luckily it doesn't set them back, because they have to slow down once they're at the phone anyway. 

Knox's first attempt is pathetic, because as soon as Chris picks up the phone, he hangs up with heavy breathing, probably terrified. “She's gonna hate me,” He says as he turns to look at his friends, who are all only staring at him with something close to pity. 

Neil has his arm around Todd's shoulder, and he's a little distracted by the firmness of his grip, unable to focus on the fact that Knox is probably having something close to a midlife crisis. Why is Neil holding him like that? It's not like Todd is trying to run away.

“The Danburrys will hate me,” Knox huffs, still looking at them in distress, “My parents will kill me!”

In the corner of his vision, Todd can see that all of his friends are simply giving Knox encouraging nods, or smiles, but not him or Neil. No, somehow they're kind of being assholes right now, because Todd isn't even properly registering his friend's words. Something about hatred and murder, cool. Sorry. He's trying, but Neil is trying to break his shoulder. He's exaggerating. It's not that firm, but it's distracting anyway.

“All right, goddamn it,” Knox mutters, glancing down at the ground, “You're right, Carpe Diem. Even if it kills me.”

Then, he dials the number again, and Todd is confused, because none of them have said anything. What does he mean, they're right? It's a little funny. So, Todd grins, and he turns his head to look at Neil, who's also grinning. He can see the light freckles on his friend's face, and when Neil turns his head, too, Todd immediately turns his own away, because oh. They were pretty close, huh. 

“Hello, Chris?” Knox says, and all of them listen intently, “Hi, this is Knox. Knox Overstreet.”

All in all, the call goes quite well, and it seems that Knox is being invited to some kind of party. Even though Charlie reminds him that it doesn't mean he has a chance, Knox seems very happy about this little success. He yells out a yawp loudly, and it makes Todd smile, because it was kind of his fault that the barbaric yawp was introduced. He's happy that his friends kept it in their minds. 

Then, when Knox leaves, and climbs up the stairs to their dormitories, Neil is chuckling sweetly. “She is going to be mine,” Knox says as he goes, flicking his scarf over his shoulder with a smile.

“Carpe!” Neil yells after him in a deep, almost jokingly demonic voice, “Carpe!”

Todd can't help the grin on his face, because it's really endearing to see his friends be happy for each other. It's the same feeling he felt when all of them congratulated Neil on getting the part in that play. It doesn't matter to them, yet they all seemed genuinely happy, and that's what friendship is, Todd decides. The ability to care for things that are important to no one but someone you love deeply.

That's how Todd feels with them, but especially Neil. He's just a little more important, if that makes sense. 

~×~

Chapter Text

~×~

The weeks at Welton drag, and drag, and Neil honestly thinks they're never ending. They're longer the more he thinks about the play, and more exhausting with every time he practises his lines. Winter is coming dreadfully slow, however, and Neil thinks it's time for some snow already. After all, it isn't much longer to the holidays, not even two full months.

Neil walks to the dormitories, just having come back from rehearsal, and it's quite cold. He's wearing a thick coat, and even gloves. Then, however, as he walks there on the lower roofs, he spots someone sitting in the corner in thin clothing. 

Immediately, he recognises him.

“Todd?” He asks quite worriedly, walking over to his friend as the boy looks up at him, “What's going on?”

The blond looks almost a little startled, and he quickly responds, “Nothing.”

Neil doesn't believe him, so he keeps walking anyway, coming to a stop in front of his roommate. There's an unwrapped box laying next to him, but the inside is otherwise untouched. Confusion seeps through him, and he looks down at his friend expectantly.

“Today is my birthday,” Todd says suddenly, and Neil's eyebrows rise immediately.

“Is today your birthday?” he asks, before smiling gently, hoping to show as much affection as he can through a simple grin, “Happy birthday!”

The blond boy still doesn't look very happy, muttering out a quiet, “Thanks.”

“What'd you get?” Neil asks, just to keep the conversation going, and he looks down at the box next to his friend with much more understanding. Now it makes a little more sense. It's a birthday present, and just by the looks of it, Neil knows exactly why Todd is so upset. “My parents gave me this,” the blond boy says, pointing at the box next to him.

Neil hesitates, “Isn't this the same desk you—”

“Yeah, yeah, they—” Todd starts, and his eyes are a little glassy, “They gave me the same thing as last year.”

Desperately, Neil tries to think of something to make that sad glint in Todd's eyes to leave, to make him smile. He wants nothing more than to make Todd smile, right now. Think, think, think. “Oh,” he gets out, wanting to hit himself for such a pathetic response. Especially when Todd mimics that one word, that one syllable with a sad smile. 

“Maybe they thought you needed another one,” Neil says now, and he lets out a laugh, even though he knows it's not funny. He stuffs his hands into his pockets, watching as Todd smiles—it's fake. 

Even though Todd gives a short snort, and he glances down at his hands, Neil knows he's only laughing because Neil is trying, not because he's happier. 

“Maybe they weren't thinking about it at all,” Todd says, smiling, and it's still so sad that Neil's smile vanishes as he watches his friend, “Fu—Uh, the funny thing about this is, I didn't even like it the first time. So.”

Neil lets out a small laugh, just because Todd is laughing too.

How cruel is that?

Genuinely, if Neil had known, he would've bought a better present. He would've made it amazing, and he would've made Todd happy, instead of making him sad on his birthday. How can people be so cruel? So unbelievably mean . Neil could never understand it, ever. 

“Todd—I think you're underestimating the value of this desk set,” Neil says with a gentle smile, picking the trashy present up, and examining it.

The boy sitting on the ground watches him curiously with those wide, blue eyes, and a small smile. Neil continues, “I mean, who would want a football, or a baseball, or a—?”

“Or a car,” Todd says, clearly amused now.

“Mh, or a car, if they could have a desk set as wonderful as this one?” Neil says, and now he's grinning, because Todd looks so entertained, and acting is definitely the right choice, “I mean, if I were ever to buy a desk set—twice!—I would buy this one. Both times.”

They're both laughing a little stupidly now, and Todd looks a lot prettier with a grin on his lips. What?

“In fact, its shape is…,” Neil says immediately, trying to distract himself, and Todd, he puts up the desk, and fakes a thorough examination, “It's rather…Aerodynamic, isn't it?”

When Neil steps toward the edge of the roof, Todd watches him with a puzzled expression. “I can feel it, phew,” the brunette hums, throwing the desk set up once, but catching it again, “This desk set wants to fly.”

Quickly, the blond boy stands up, and Neil almost feels a shiver run through his spine at the image of Todd in just a button-up. He must be freezing. Seriously. “Todd?” Neil asks, reaching out the desk set for his roommate to take, smiling as Todd does so, and then Neil looks back out to the horizon, “The first unmanned, flying desk set. Please.”

It doesn't take much more convincing until Todd throws the desk set off from the roof with a loud yell, and it's so nice to see the blond smiling about it, Neil almost wants to grin—so he does. “Whew! What a throw!” He laughs, unable to keep it in, and then, just to lighten the mood some more, “Well, I wouldn't worry. I mean, you'll get another one next year.”

Todd laughs again, and it's a win. 

“Now, would you like to accompany me to the dormitories, dear birthday-sir?” Neil grins, offering his arm, and Todd grins brightly as he links their arms together, “Let's go!”

At night, during the meeting, they wait patiently for Charlie to come, but after some waiting, they decide to continue without him. 

However, just as they finish the starting poem, and Neil wants to begin a short speech about Todd's birthday, because it's a very special occasion, there's laughter outside of the cave. Women. The laughter of women. What are girls doing out at this time, especially in the forest? Every alarm in Neil starts ringing, but then he hears Charlie's voice, too. “Don't worry, go on in, it's my cave,” the idiot says, and he enters their cave with two women. 

Gloria and Tina, or something. 

It's horrible.

Neil hates it, he hates it so, so much, because this is their thing. Why did Charlie seriously bring two random women here?

Well, it only ends stupidly anyway. Charlie declares himself Nuwanda, and starts to spout poetry to the girls he's brought. No one else utters a word to them, and even though Todd is grinning like a madman, Neil hasn't felt unhappier in his entire life. Sure, it's fun. They drink, and smoke, and Charlie is being an endearing idiot as usual, but something is different, because after a while it's silent. Not the usual silence, where all of them do something different, but they're all there.

It's an awkward silence. 

Meeks tries to stop it by talking about his and Pitts' hi-fi system, but it's not working, because the girls have clearly no interest in a word they say.

“Don't you miss having girls around here?” One of them asks, Neil doesn't even remember if she's Tina or Gloria, and he does feel a little bad about it, but not really. Especially not when both Meeks and Pitts grin like madmen, and nod like they were punched stupid.

Charlie interrupts the silence now.

“That's part of what's this club is about,” he says, and Neil takes a drag of his cigarette, feeling the eyes of the girl next to him on his lips, and he really doesn't know what to do, so he doesn't even look, “In fact, I'd like to announce that I've published an article in the name of the Dead Poets, demanding for girls to be admitted to Welton.”

Okay. This is where Neil draws the line. He can't be serious. 

“So, we can all stop beating off,” Charlie whispers to Meeks, but Neil hears him, and somehow, he's furious. Sure, fine. Okay. Cool. But, no! That's not—It doesn't matter who attends the school, does it? Why is Charlie trying to change things, when things are going so well right now? “How did you do it?” Neil asks, and there's no smile on his lips anymore. 

Quickly, Charlie explains how he's done it by being one of the proofers, and Neil glances down at the ground with an unsure gaze. 

“Great, so it's over now.”

Charlie looks puzzled, “Why? Nobody knows who we are.”

“Well, don't you think they're gonna find out who wrote it? They're gonna come to you, and ask you what the Dead Poets are,” Cameron scolds, genuinely sounding worried, “Charlie you had no right to do something like that.”

Charlie takes a few steps forward, taking a sip of his alcohol, “It's Nuwanda, Cameron.”

The girls, who are only defending Charlie like he's the greatest, speak in soft tones, but they don't even have the right to be there. Neil feels genuinely betrayed, because not only has Charlie shown their spot to random people, but he's also endangered their entire club without even mentioning it to them before. Not a passing comment, not a joke, nothing, he just went and did it. 

“So, are we just here to play around, or do we mean what we say?” Charlie says in an amused, smug tone, looking around the group, “If all we do is meet up in a cave, and read a bunch of poems, what the hell are we doing?”

Neil stands up, and he's so, so angry, that he can't really think about what he says. “All right, but you still shouldn't have done it, Charlie,” he huffs, looking at his friend, at his best friend, with such an angered expression that his throat hurts from the words he speaks, “This could mean trouble! You don't speak for the club.”

“Hey, would you not worry about your precious little neck? If they catch me, I'll tell them I made it up!” Charlie says easily, like it's no problem at all. 

And all this trouble on Todd's birthday.

Somehow that is the first coherent thought that forms in Neil's brain once he's calmed down, and they break off the meeting for that night. 

It doesn't even take a whole week for the school administrators to find out about the unauthorised article. They even hold an attendance of the entire school, all boys, all teachers, and ask about it. Nolan doesn't seem pleased at all as he mentions it.

“On this week's Welton Honour appeared a profane, and unauthorised article,” he says in that horrible tone, which every student despises, so arrogant, like he's better than them all, like he's superior as a human being, “Rather than spend my valuable time ferreting out the guilty persons—and let me assure you, I will find them—I'm asking any and all students who know anything about this article to make themselves known here and now. ”

It's silent in the big hall, and Neil doesn't know what to do. They will find out. That's what is so horrible about this entire situation, he knows they'll find out at some point, of course they will, they always do. It isn't an elite school for kicks and giggles. 

“Whoever the guilty persons are, this is your only chance to avoid expulsion from this school,” Nolan adds, and suddenly, a telephone rings.

All of the boys, and even the teachers, look over at where the sound is coming from, and what they see is Charlie Dalton. “Welton Academy, hello?” He says, and Neil feels every drop of blood in his body freeze, “Yes, he is, just a moment.”

Suddenly, Charlie stands up, and he holds out the phone to Nolan with a smug grin. “Mr. Nolan, it's for you!” He says, and everything is silent.

Then, the idiot goes to an extent that makes Neil want to punch the stupidity out of his friend, because now he's anything but far from an expulsion, really, he's closer to it. 

“It's God,” Charlie says, a smile planting on his lip, “He says we should have girls at Welton!”

Even though some of the boys start laughing, actually everyone except a very specific group, the Dead Poets aren't amused at all. No, the opposite. They're annoyed, angry, frustrated, because even if Charlie is just being brave, there are lines to be crossed, and he's just crossed them all.

It has consequences.

Harsh ones—And Charlie returns to the dormitories with tears in his eyes, a smile, and a quieter voice.

But despite that, it's okay.

Because everyone knows that Charlie didn't rat out their club, and he won't. After all, his name's Nuwanda. 

~×~

The dorm is dark, and Neil stares at the ceiling above him blankly. As usual, he can't sleep, and the room is too hot with the heating on. It's not too hot usually, since usually it gets turned on later, when it's already snowing, but now it's too warm outside for the radiator to be turned on, and the rooms overheat. Or maybe theirs is just broken. Who knows, because the other boys aren't complaining.

Suddenly, there's rustling on the bed next to him, and Neil glances over to see Todd sit up with tousled hair, and a tired expression. A chuckle leaves Neil's throat involuntarily.

“Can't sleep?” He asks, getting a surprised flinch of Todd's head, who seemingly didn't know that they're both awake. Apparently they have been for a while, Neil knows because Todd moves a lot in his sleep, but when he's awake, he lays motionlessly. It's like he's trying not to disturb anyone when he's awake, but letting go of that worry once he's unconscious. 

Todd shakes his head, shrugging, “it's too warm, especially since the radiator is so close to the beds.”

That's true. Maybe they could open the window, but it's raining, and Neil worries that it might mess up the wood if it rains all night. God, this is really annoying, isn't it?

“Nuwanda is a force of nature, isn't he?”

Those words out of Todd's mouth catch Neil off guard, and he looks at the blond with wide eyes, and a surprised gaze. There's a small smile on Todd's lips, and he looks outside, even though there isn't anything to see with the rain hitting the glass. 

A question nudges at Neil's mind, and he lets it in without thinking, even speaking it out loud before ever examining it. “The girls he brought in that day in the cave, they were pretty, right?” Neil asks, and it doesn't even make sense, because he doesn't remember what they look like at all. His eyes are fixed on Todd's expression, watching the way his blue eyes widen, and his lips part in surprise as he looks back at Neil. 

“What?” He asks, like he's confused, and Neil smiles.

Somehow that makes talking a little easier, and he continues. “I didn't really like that he brought them there. It's our spot, afterall,” Neil explains, and then he looks back at the ceiling, letting another question slip past the administration of his own mind, “Would you prefer it if girls went to Welton? Charlie did say it's to make it easier to…You know, get off. But it wouldn't work. They'd separate the dorms, and just because there are girls it doesn't mean they'd want to do it.”

All the words spouting out of Neil's mouth only make sense partially, and he's a little overwhelmed by his own thoughts, because wow . That does sound logical. A grin plasters on his lips as he looks over at Todd, and he watches the way he quickly flicks his gaze away. Huh? 

“It—It doesn't really make a difference to me,” Todd says, and Neil tries to make sense of that. How doesn't it make a difference? Of course it would, in some ways.

Somehow, it confuses Neil beyond belief, and he sits up, too, now. 

“It wouldn't? Why?” He asks, and he really doesn't want to sound judgemental, because he's simply curious. Maybe Todd means the fact that he's too shy to talk to girls anyway, which would make enough sense.

Well, he doesn't mean that, apparently. “Uh, no, I—I just, well—I don't like girls all that much. Not—Not in that way, anyway,” Todd stammers, and he's looking out of the window, moving his head and arms in that funny way he does when he's flustered, or anxious. Honestly, Neil has always thought it was kind of endearing, because it just seems like Todd has no idea what to do with himself. Like he's lost.

“Oh,” Neil says.

“Oh,” Todd mimics.

A startled chuckle escapes Neil's throat, because these two, small words reminded him of their conversation on the roof. No. Right. Focus. 

Now, Neil is stammering a little, “Oh, wait, do you mean—Like, like—”

“Yeah.”

Quickly, Neil clamps his mouth shut.

It's silent for quite the eternity, and neither of them speaks as Todd stares out of the window, and Neil stares at him. Oh. Oh. Okay. No, that's fine. Isn't it? It doesn't really change anything, because Todd makes a lot more sense now. Well, not a lot, but some. It's like a small, unnecessary puzzle piece slots into place, and Neil simply nods a few times, maybe a few too many—he does that when something catches him off guard.

“Okay,” he says, then.

Todd glances over at him, “Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Neil assures.

Because why wouldn't it be? So Todd doesn't like girls, that's fine. He likes guys, that's alright. Maybe that makes things easier for him, honestly. Good for him, huh? Neil has no idea what's happening. 

The part of his brain that's been trained by his father is screaming at him, telling him to be disgusted, and pushing him to ask unnecessary things. 

However, then there's the bigger part of him. The part of him that loves acting, poetry, Todd's poetry, and all the other poets. It tells him that it's fine, because Mr. Keating taught them not to hate the things that step out of the system. It's fine, because Todd is still Todd, and Neil thinks he's amazing, and special, and talented, and horribly beautiful, and he should stop thinking anything right this second.

“Good night, now.”

Just like that, with little questioning from Todd, Neil turns around to sleep, and he's just discovered a different universe. One he desperately craves to explore. 

Chapter Text

~×~

Practising for the play has been Neil's prime time; the absolute highlight of his weeks, and the best part of it is coming back to Welton to tell Todd all about it. Every time, the blond boy listens with attentive eyes, and Neil rambles, rambles, and rambles until he can't breathe—recites his lines until his tongue hurts. 

He comes back from rehearsal with a big grin on his face as he almost skips through the hallways, opening up his scarf to adjust to the warmth in the rooms.

All the boys come rushing past him, and he stops to let them through, grinning like a madman at the sight of his friends so excited for food. He pats the ones he can reach on the back as they run past, hitting Charlie, and Steven. “Save some for me!” he yells after them jokingly, waiting another few seconds before resuming the walk to his dorm. Neil isn't sure if Todd is there now, since it's time for dinner, but he hopes he is. He has so much to tell him.

“But, room, fairy! Here comes Oberon,” Neil quietly recites with a dazed grin, remembering the beautiful costumes they've been working on, and all the other amazing people that are in the play. 

Just when Neil opens the dorm door, and parts his lips with an excited grin to let all the words flood out—he freezes. 

On his desk chair sits a man with a grim expression, and extreme hair loss. His dark gaze finds Neil immediately, and the boy gulps, because suddenly, he can't smile, and he can't breathe, and he can't move. “Father,” he mutters, because that's all he knows to let slip past his lips. Every other word would create a chaos unimaginable for the boy, and Neil doesn't risk things. Well, he does. Just not with his father. Not when Neil has already disobeyed him, and his father knows. He can see it in the man's expression. He knows. 

“Neil,” his father says sternly, quickly looking back over at nothing rather than meeting the eyes of his own son, because of course. 

Panic floods through the dark haired boy, and he lets his lips mouth silent words that try to escape, but never make it past. Then, with a burst of courage he probably has from the words their English teacher drilled into his brain, he speaks up. “Before you say anything, father, please let me—,” he tries, even though he gets interrupted so quickly that he has to bite his tongue to stop himself from letting out a loud, frustrated wail. 

“Don't you dare talk back to me!”

A slam on the desk.

His father stands up, and with a distant expression, Neil thinks, oh, there it is. 

Todd was right after all. 

The stare that his father gives him is nothing Neil doesn't know. Disappointment, disagreement, disrespect. The three things his father despises from anyone who isn't himself. It makes Neil sick to the stomach, but he can't speak, because—because he just can't. Carpe Diem. Carpe Diem. Carpe Diem, but the words he wants to say to his father block his throat, and stop any others from escaping; they're too many.

“It's bad enough you've wasted your time with this…Absurd acting business,” the man says, with a strict voice, and Neil glances down at the ground, trying to blur out all the words he doesn't want to hear, “But you've deliberately deceived me, Neil.”

The next question is what hurts the boy the most. It stings, right beneath his ribcage.

“How did you expect to get away with this?” the old man asks, getting closer with an expression that speaks no words at all. No feelings except the absolute, and undoubted disgust he bears for whatever is going on.

Carpe Diem.

At the end of the day, Neil knew.

He knew that this wouldn't work, because of course it wouldn't. 

Todd was right.

The thing is, it still stings. It hurts so badly that Neil has to try hard not to cry—has to look down so his father doesn't see the glassy reflection of himself in his eyes. Boys don't cry, because of course they don't. No explanation. It's just not right, it's just wrong, and Neil wants to understand, but he doesn't, and it hurts. It hurts so much, because he tries so desperately to be on the same page as his father, but the effort is not reciprocated. 

“Answer me,” his father prompts, voice unusually soft, like he's trying to bait him.

Neil gapes. He can't form any words that could describe the courage he felt on the day he decided this. The thrill his mind was experiencing at the thought of finally being able to act. There's no sounds leaving his lips, and he feels so pressured by the way his father stares him down with that cold gaze of his. Then, when the first proper sound leaves his throat, he's interrupted—

“Who put you up to this? Was it the new man, this, uh,” the man huffs, finally turning his gaze away, “This Mr. Keating? That ridiculous English teacher?”

Neil finds his voice, “No, nobody—I thought I'd…Well, surprise you.”

Not enough.

Not enough.

Say more.

Speak up.

Carpe Diem.

“I've gotten all A's in every class—”

Of course, his father interrupts shamelessly, because respect is a one way street in their household. It always has been, and it always will be, and Neil is so utterly sick of it. “So did you think I wasn't going to find out?” the man asks as he turns around to pace the dorm. Neil likes this room. He really does. He loves it so much, with the memories he has of it with his friends—with his dearest roommate.

Right now he despises it.

“«Oh, my niece is in a play with your son,» says Mrs. Marks,” his father says, and distantly, he thinks about how amusing it is that the man complains about acting before acting out a conversation right in front of him, “«No, no, no,» I say, «You must be mistaken, my son's not in a play»”.

The way his father says the word makes Neil want to cry. Play. Like it's a waste of effort and time, like it doesn't leave hundreds—even thousands of people smiling for hours afterwards every day. He says it like it's a disgrace, like it's a crime. Funnily enough, his father has never had problems with acting. He likes his stupid little radio shows. As soon as Neil took an interest in it, though, it turned wrong. Strange. Queer. All the things his father despises. 

“You've made a liar out of me, Neil.”

You are, the boy thinks bitterly, because he is. 

Oh, how Neil wishes that Todd was here, so he could stare at him while he talked. Feel the same excitement he did back when he told his roommate about the play, and regain his courage.

“Now, you'll go to them tomorrow, and you will quit the play,” his father demands.

No.

No, no.

No!

“No, I can't! I have the main part,” he says loudly, desperately, barely-there tears in his eyes, “The performance is tomorrow night!”

“I don't care if the world ends tomorrow, Neil,” his father argues, and the actor feels every ounce of joy in his body wilts like forgotten flowers, “You are through with that play.”

It's a finality. 

The way the man said those words, Neil knows he means it. 

“Is that clear?”

No.

Neil wants to scream, no.

His father yells, right into his face, “Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.” Neil responds, even though he has to bite his tongue right after to feel physical pain instead of the hard sting in his heart. It's not fair. Not fair, not fair, not fair, not fair. He's going to cry. Boys don't cry, but he's a romanticist. A poet. An actor. He's better than just a boy. Better than a boy who lets others tell him what he feels, so he doesn't try to hold the tears back. 

They refuse to flow, anyway.

His father takes a few steps toward the door before stopping, turning his head just slightly, and not looking at his son, because why would he?

“I made a great many sacrifices to get you into this school, Neil,” the man states, as though his son didn't know, as if it's not one of the main reasons he feels so guilty about disobeying his father, “And you will not let me down.”

Neil stares down at the floor, “No, sir.”

He will.

When his gaze lifts, and he stares at his father with all the hatred he can muster to fit into a single second, the man leaves. Just like that. As if the conversation never happened. Neil hates it so much that his teeth grit, and it feels like they're going to shatter under the pressure. 

As soon as the man is gone, however, the pressure behind his eyes releases, and tears start flowing. It's as though even his body knows well enough that his father would've beaten him if he started crying. Or, at least a good slap to the face, telling him to be a man already. It's funny, really. So, Neil smiles as he takes off his coat, and his scarf, and sits down on his bed. The fact that this didn't work out right the day before the play is so utterly ironic that Neil lets out a pathetic chuckle, wiping his tears. 

It's only a few seconds. 

In those few seconds, his world crumbles down before his eyes, and he feels his lungs collapse beneath his ribcage. The tears keep flowing, because he hasn't cried in years, and this really isn't fair. However, then, like a sunbeam on a rainy day, the dorm door opens again.

“Neil?”

The dark haired boy looks up in shock at his roommate, who stands in the middle of the room with wide, blue eyes. 

“Oh, Neil,” Todd says with a gentle gaze, his tone so soft that it takes everything in Neil not to break down—he fails anyway.

His shoulders shake, and his face scrunches up into an ugly grimace as he wails, and cries. Quickly, Todd rushes over to him, sitting on the bed with him, clearly a little overwhelmed with the situation—unsure what to do. So, even if Neil can't really see his friend through the blurry filter of tears, he throws his arms around the shorter boy, and buries his face in the crook of Todd's neck. Easily, the blond accepts it. Like it's the most understandable thing in the world, Todd just holds him, and lets him cry.

And, oh, Neil cries.

His nose is stuffed, and drool drips past his trembling lips as he sobs into Todd's skin, clawing at his friend like he's holding onto the last piece of land in the middle of a never ending ocean. Neil feels like he's drowning. He can't breathe, and his head hurts, he feels almost dizzy. It feels like someone has ripped his heart out, leaving a bleeding hole in his chest that's letting out all the feelings he's been storing away so carefully. Then, in the deep ocean of his sorrow, there's the voice of an angel. 

“Neil, it's okay,” Todd says quietly, voice so unbelievably soft, and then there's a gentle hand on the back of Neil's head, “It's okay. You're not alone.”

Distantly, Neil wonders when Todd became so good at this, but then he remembers that the blond could've said anything, and it probably would've calmed him down, or at least distracted him. The hand on the back of his head gently nestles into his short hair, combing through it in a sweet motion of cold fingers—Todd was outside. The motion makes every muscle in Neil give up tension, and the only thing that remains is the slight tremble of his lips, and the stutter of his chest that bears his screaming lungs. 

It takes a few minutes, or maybe longer. Neil calms his breathing a little, and turns his head to the side, wiping off the mess on his face. The tears dry out eventually, but Neil doesn't let go of Todd, and Todd doesn't ask him to.

Then, after a moment of gentle silence, he speaks. 

“My father found out. He's asking me…To quit the play,” Neil explains, eyes staring at the closed dorm door as he focuses on the gentle hand in his short hair. 

Todd hums. 

Neil continues, “I don't want to quit it. I've enjoyed it so much. It's so beautiful, Todd.”

The hand in his hair stills, and Neil closes his eyes as he silently mourns the loss of the calming motion. “What will you do?” Todd asks quietly, and it's a valid question. A good one.

Neil doesn't know.

Of course he doesn't, he's clueless, utterly devastated, and he feels as though he's lost all of his blood. The only thing keeping him from—probably—fainting, is the soothing presence of his roommate holding him. His amazing roommate—his sweet, sweet Todd.

“I'm going to speak to Mr. Keating, I'll…Ask him,” Neil says.

Suddenly, with the ocean around him having dried out, he gently lets go of Todd, grinning at the boy sheepishly. However, Todd only looks at him with worry written all over his beautiful features. What? 

“Okay,” the blond says, nodding, and averting his gaze.

Neil remembers that they're in their dorm, and that it's time for dinner. He also remembers the fact that they are supposed to be there in about…Well, right this second. 

He'll think about this another time.

~×~

The stars come out, and the moon shows itself in all its beauty, like a painting that paints itself with a brush dipped in magical water. 

Despite the beauty of tonight, Neil doesn't go outside. It's still shortly before curfew, and he uses that time to visit someone he looks up to greatly—not his father, who would've thought? 

Mr. Keating's office is closed, and Neil knocks on the small, sad looking door five times. 

“It's open, come on in.”

As asked, Neil opens the door immediately, and steps inside: It's a small room, cluttered with books, and furniture. There's not much room to move, and it smells like it would in the house of an old grandma, for all he knew. Still, there is something magical about it, and the dim light from the lamp on Neil's left is warm. Mr. Keating, who is sitting at his desk writing something, doesn't look at him for a moment, so he walks up to him.

Then, the man turns his head, and smiles. “Neil, what's up?” he asks in that kind tone that the brunette desperately wants to copy onto his voice.

“Can I talk to you?” Neil questions.

Mr. Keating responds immediately, turning his full attention toward the boy, “Certainly. Here, sit down.”

When Neil turns to find a chair, he finds one at the side of the teacher's desk. Books are stacked on it, and he picks them up with a bit of hesitation, unsure where to put them. So, he turns around to Mr. Keating, muttering an apology, and holding the books out to the teacher. Immediately, the man grins sheepishly, taking them from Neil, and putting them onto a different chair behind them, “Excuse me for the mess.”

Mr. Keating doesn't sit back down, and for a moment, Neil doesn't either.

“Would you like some tea?” his English teacher asks, and Neil shrugs. 

“Sure.”

So, a little impatiently, Neil stands there and waits for Mr. Keating to pour him some tea. It's a bit funny, because he asks what he wants in it, and Neil has no idea, because he never drinks tea. So, he simply says no, and leans to the side to find something else to talk about. At least one thing he can fill the silence with until they sit down, and properly talk.

“Gosh, they really don't give you much room around here,” Neil says, letting out a small laugh, even though he pities his teacher a little. 

Mr. Keating smiles as he turns around to hand the tea cup to Neil, carefully reaching it out, “No, it's part of the monastic oath.”

When Neil gives his teacher a gentle look of confusion, Mr. Keating quickly elaborates. “They don't want worldly things distracting me from my teaching,” he says, sitting back down at his desk, and Neil takes place on the chair next to it. On the table stands a picture of a woman, a beautiful one. Neil guesses she's Mr. Keating's one true love, judging by the letters in front of the photograph. 

“She's pretty,” Neil says.

Mr. Keating smiles, looking a little amused, “She's also in London, makes it a little difficult at times.”

Without thinking, Neil lets out a laugh when his teacher does, because he doesn't know what to say about that. He doesn't think that he'd be able to survive if the person he loved was so far away from him. Honestly, he'd much rather have them in the same room as him at all times. Kind of like…

“How can you stand it?” Neil asks, because he needs to distract himself from his own thoughts—his own mind pestering parasites. 

“Stand what?”

Neil feels a little agitated for some reason, like he learned how to let out his emotions for a bit, and now he's using it on all he has. “You could go anywhere, you could be anywhere. How can you stand being here?” he asks, and hopes that Mr. Keating doesn't understand the reason why Neil wonders about this. The reason why he hates this school so undeniably, or the reason why he came to his teacher in the first place.

“Because I love teaching,” Mr. Keating says, the answer so horribly simple as he smiles at his student, “I don't wanna be anywhere else.”

This makes Neil think again. Somehow, everything his English teacher says makes him think. He hasn't figured out whether it's good or bad yet. The fact that Mr. Keating loves teaching so much that he simply does it is so unbelievably inspiring that Neil stops smiling, and something from inside of his heart breaks open. As though it's made of eggshells. 

Immediately, Mr. Keating knows that there's something wrong, because of course he would. “What's up?” the man asks gently.

“I just talked to my father,” Neil explains, averting his gaze to look down at the tea he still hasn't tasted, “He's making me quit the play at Henley Hall.”

In all honesty, Neil isn't sure how to explain this properly, because quitting it would mean the end of his world—the end of his entire universe. It doesn't make sense to anyone. At least, Neil can't believe that it does. Now, with Mr. Keating in front of him, entire countries away from his lover just to be a teacher, Neil considers it. Maybe people do understand, just differently, and he can explain it with easy words. No need for poetry.

“Acting's everything to me. I—,” he starts, trying to swallow down the knot in his throat as he speaks, “But he doesn't know, he—I can see his point, of course. We're not a rich family like Charlie's. And we—But he's planning the rest of my life for me, and he's—he's never asked me what I want.”

It's becoming hard to control his voice, and even though he probably doesn't sound very devastated, he is. His mind is yelling at him to shut up as his heart claws at him, telling him to keep talking, or else it might explode. So, he's in the middle of a decision he can't make just yet, and his eyes close for just the break of a second to collect himself. What is he to do? Quit acting, or don't. It's like asking him to die or die. It simply doesn't make sense.

“Have you ever told your father what you just told me?” Mr. Keating asks, with a gentle expression that makes it so easy to trust the man's judgement, “About your passion for acting. Did you ever tell him that?”

Neil shakes his head, eyebrow furrowing only lightly as he looks down, and whispers, “I can't.”

“Why not?” his teacher asks. Two such simple words, which Neil has no answer for. Except he does, he just isn't sure how valid it sounds to someone who's never experienced his father's stubbornness, or his cold gaze. “I can't talk to him this way,” Neil mutters, looking back up at his teacher with tears collecting in his eyes. 

Mr. Keating hums, “Then you're acting for him too.”

Those words absolutely destroy Neil. They rip out his heart, and throw it down an underwater cave to drown the dying organ gently. 

“You're playing the part of the dutiful son,” Mr. Keating continues, expression daring, “I know this sounds impossible, but you have to talk to him—You have to show him who you are, what your heart is.”

Maybe. Maybe, Neil does have to do that, but he doesn't. He already knows. He knows what will happen, and he knows that nothing ever works out with his father. Somehow, it has turned into a rule for the universe that his father simply gets what he wants. It's undeniable, and uncontrollable. “I know what he'll say,” Neil scoffs, his smile sadder than every frown he's ever shown, “He'll tell me that acting's a whim, and I should forget about it. That they're counting on me.”

A pause. Simply because Neil still feels something clogging up his dry throat.

“He'll just tell me to put it out of my mind for my own good,” he says, looking at Mr. Keating helplessly.

The teacher leans forward a little, no smile on his face, but his expression remains soft anyway. “You are not an indentured servant. If it's not a whim for you, you prove it to him by your conviction, and your passion,” he says sternly, like he's trying to convince Neil, “You show him that, and if he still doesn't believe you, well, by then you'll be out of school, and you can do anything you want.”

“No,” Neil says quickly, because there's tears in his eyes now, and he feels like he's being choked to sleep ever so gently. His nose is getting stuffed, and he sniffs just to be able to breathe, running his sleeve over his face to wipe away his tears. Crying two times in a day is surely not what he expected to be doing. “What about the play? The show's tomorrow night,” Neil asks, a smile on his lips that not only he knows to be faked.

Mr. Keating shrugs gently, “Then you have to talk to him before tomorrow night.”

Everything inside of Neil is burning.

It hurts so, so much.

The way he has to fight for his right to be something that he already is. It's unfair, isn't it? 

“I—,” he huffs, trying to regain his composure, trying to stop his voice from shaking, “Isn't there an easier way?”

“No,” Mr. Keating says honestly. 

Neil smiles. He looks back down at his tea, which is salted with the drops of his tears. It must taste disgusting now. Then, miserably, he lets out a laugh. It's an act. Like his entire life—it's fake. Just a way to act like everything is okay. “I'm trapped,” he says, like he's happy about it, even though he's everything but.

“No, you're not,” Mr. Keating says quickly, and the smile on Neil's lips wilts as quickly as his hope.

Maybe his teacher is right, even though Neil doesn't wish to think about it. There's a truthfulness to Mr. Keating's words that the brunette doesn't wish to test. If he can do anything to remain in this absurd acting business, he'll do it. Even if it means finally talking to his father

“Thank you, captain,” Neil says, fidgeting with his tea cup.

The teacher smiles, “Thank you for putting your trust in me, and talking to me about this, Neil.”

Maybe, just maybe, everything will be okay. 

~×~

Chapter Text

~×~

The thrill that seeped through Todd's body when Neil had told him that he was allowed to act after all was unmatched. Honestly, for a moment, Todd thought that his excitement even topped Neil's own. It was incredible, the best news he has ever heard! He is going to see his friend act, and it's going to be okay, because Neil told his father how important acting is to him.

Of course, Todd wasn't in the room with him when the call was taking place, but Neil assured him that it was okay. His father wouldn't be there, and he had agreed to let Neil stay in the play. It's a blessing of some sort. 

As all the boys, minus Neil, stand in front of the bathroom mirrors, doing their hair, and fixing their clothes; Todd is trying his best. He has combed his hair to one side with a neat swirl, using hairspray to fix it up, and the checked blazer he's wearing is one of Neil's. In front of him, Cameron is fixing his already flawless hair, and with a big smile, Todd messes it up a little.

“Come on, Todd! Stop it!” he complains, but the blonde is so unbelievably happy that he can't concentrate on his friend's annoyance.

He gets his dark coat, and waits impatiently at the back of the bathroom as he puts it on. They're already a little behind on the time plan, but it's okay, since Mr. Keating is driving them. Todd doesn't really like car rides, but if it means he'll finally see Neil act, he'd even ride there on a unicycle in the middle of a snow storm. Maybe that's an exaggeration, but he's serious. It's so amazing. Todd loves his friend so much it makes him dizzy to think about watching Neil do what he loves. 

“Come on, Nuwanda, we'll miss Neil's entrance!”

God, Todd hopes not.

“He's getting red.”

Meeks scowls in confusion, “Getting red?”

Just as Charlie walks in, smirking as usual, the redhead with glasses turns to look at him. “So, what's all that ‹getting red› about?” he asks, causing Nuwanda's smirk to grow as he opens his button up; revealing a big, red bolt on his chest. Apparently, as Charlie explains it, it's a war sign for virility. However, Todd stops listening after a few words, only chuckling absentmindedly when the other boys laugh.

When they finally get to the hallway, and make their way outside, they're stopped by Knox, who just stops walking all of a sudden. They all stand next to him, following his gaze as that girl he has a crush on—Chris—appears in front of them, covered in snow.

“Go on, I'll catch up,” Knox immediately says, walking over to the girl.

Admittedly, Todd doesn't even think twice before leaving. Other than Meeks, who's being dragged by Nuwanda as he stares at the two. It's not Todd's fault, he's just so excited, and he doesn't want to be late. Not when Neil is the main part, and he'll finally act, and he'll get the applause he deserves. Todd wants to be there when it happens. He wants to give Neil the applause he deserves, the applause he has probably waited for his entire life, because who wouldn't be impressed by him? Todd is sure that everyone in the crowd will be mesmerised. 

The car ride is full of excited mumbling, and teasing about Knox. Even Mr. Keating joins in on it. They arrive just as all the people enter the theatre, and Todd is the first of the poets to rush to one of the empty seats. 

Next to him sit Cameron and Mr. Keating. His heart is beating loudly in his ears as he watches the stage with a curious gaze. The big, red drapes open, and Todd subconsciously shifts forward in his seat. It seems like it's a forest, the first scene. Then, Neil jumps up behind one of the cardboard bushes, and Todd's heart goes wild. Nuwanda even sits up excitedly, and it makes the blonde smile. They all love their friend. It's just that Todd wants Neil to know that Todd loves him, too.

Still, he's never been good at admitting to those kinds of things.

It starts.

The acting starts.

The play begins.

Neil doesn't have the first line, but his first line is so beautifully spoken by him that Todd melts a little into his chair. “Thou speak'st aright; I am that merry wanderer of the night,” Neil says, in his beautiful costume, and Todd is mesmerised. Even though Charlie is saying something, praising Neil, Todd can't take his eyes off the stage. He can't take his eyes off his friend. He's so right up there. It looks so right, so fitting, like Neil belongs on a stage, and belongs under bright lights that contour his stupid grin as he speaks the lines that he's practised so hard all month.

It's probably pathetic; the way Todd can't stop smiling, even though there's nothing funny happening. 

During the entire play, his cheeks start hurting, and he bites on his lip hardly. Everything is so magical. It's almost real. Especially because of the acting, because of Neil's acting. Maybe Todd is biased. Even if he is, it's true anyway. Neil is the best. He is. There's no denying it. In the end, Todd's concentration is so focused on the play that it's like he's snapped out of a dream when the drapes start closing. Applause sounds, and he raises his hands to add onto it, his skin burning from the harsh impact. Excitedly, he whips back and forth on his seat, unable to sit still as his smile widens even more, stretching his lips uncomfortably. 

Then, after all the actors come out for another round of applause—even though the first one hasn't even stopped—Nuwanda is the first to stand up, before Todd follows immediately. Even though his hands ache, he can't help but keep clapping, because he's just so unbelievably happy. Neil deserves the applause. Honestly, he deserves so much more than just the applause, but Todd can't give anything better. Not right now, probably not ever.

It takes a while until the applause finally dies down, and the actors are out of sight. For a moment, they all stay put, and chattering starts up in every corner of the big room. 

The first to run away from the many seats is not Charlie, surprisingly. No, it's Todd, who pushes past his friends so eagerly that he almost stumbles and falls. His legs drag him toward the exit as multiple strangers push with him. It will probably take a while until Neil can come out, since he has to change, and he probably has found friends in the play who are speaking to him right now. Still, Todd doesn't go look for him, because he doesn't know if Neil wants him there. After all, he's in his element now, and he deserves it.

However, when, after a few moments of Todd excitedly rambling to Charlie, who returns the same eagerness, the blonde finally spots Neil; he's with his father. No. It shouldn't be. No, no, no. Todd freezes, and his smile drops as Mr. Perry pushes past the crowd at the exit, followed by a disappointed Neil.

Maybe Todd doesn't think. Honestly, he's probably gone crazy.

He grabs Neil's arms tightly, and stops him. His friend immediately freezes, looking at him with a sad gaze, and shaking his head, but no. Todd grips his arm tighter, and pulls it again. “Don't. You don't—You don't have to,” he says, wrapping both of his arms around his friend's now, because he doesn't want him to leave. He can't let Neil leave. It's simply impossible, it's not okay. He can't let that cruel man take the poor actor, because he'll make him think ridiculous things. Things that aren't true. 

“You were good. You were so good. You were amazing,” Todd says hastily, eyes wide as he stares at his friend, who returns the same gaze.

“Todd,” Neil says, softly, “I have to go.”

Quickly, the blond shakes his head, frantically pulling at Neil's arm, even though the brunette is already so close. “You can't. You don't have to. Don't let him take you, Neil,” Todd whispers, and his throat hurts, because he's never spoken his thoughts like this, “Promise me you won't let him take you. You can't leave.”

“Neil,” Mr. Perry says sternly.

Quickly, the brunette looks over at his father before looking back at his friend. It looks like Neil is about to cry, and everyone around them is quiet. There's whispers, and even though Todd has never been more scared in his entire, miserable life, he speaks up again. “He's going to take you, I just…I just know. He can't do that, I—,” he says, voice shaky, and he takes a deep breath, “Remember when—That time I said I could take care of myself just fine, and you—and you said no?”

The whispers won't stop, and Todd is shaking, but he can't let Neil leave. It's obvious, he knows that look. The looks of a father that will do anything to push his son into the right direction. He'll take Neil away. It's unfair. He can't.

Neil stares at him with glassy, brown eyes, and behind him, Mr. Perry angrily glares at the blond. It's scary; terrifying, really, but he has to do it. For Neil, and for himself.

“You were—You were right,” Todd whispers, closing his eyes, and gripping Neil's arm like it's the only thing keeping him alive, “You can't let him take you. Acting—Acting is your life, you can't—you can't let him take it from you. You said it yourself. Nothing is impossible.”

Then, Neil is ripped out of his grasp by his father, and Todd feels something inside of him shatter as he watches the brunette being pulled towards Mr. Perry's car. No. No, no. 

No. 

Don't take him.

Todd's vision is a little blurry, and he stands there, frozen. He stares after the car as it drives, Neil looking back from behind the window. 

Even though the poets start talking to him, complaining, and asking him if he's alright, he can't speak. Todd can't feel his tongue, and there's something blocking his throat. It's as though someone has robbed him of his ability to speak, and his lips part in a pathetic attempt to breathe. 

A hand threads through his product-stiff hair, and he's pulled into an embrace by Mr. Keating, who turns the blond boy so he can't see the car driving away.  

“You did well, Todd. You tried, you stood up for your friend. I'm really proud,” the teacher hums, pressing the boy's face into his shoulder, and Todd feels like he's dying. It's not dramatic. It's not even close to realistic, because his entire body burns, and he feels the way his heart is beating a little too slowly. Neil is going to be taken away. He'll be ripped out of Todd's life like a band aid. It's not fair. 

After the tumult calms itself, and Todd regains his ability to breathe, at least, they all make their way back to Welton. 

His steps are painfully slow as he makes his way towards his dorms. Towards Neil's and his dorm. Behind him are his friends, who seem to be walking just as slowly. Maybe out of pity, or maybe because they're devastated as well. It's unclear to Todd, but he doesn't care. He stops shortly In front of the opened dorm door, and a hand settles on his shoulder. It's Nuwanda.

“He'll be okay,” Charlie says, smiling, even though Todd can see the worry on his face clear as day. It's obvious that the other boy just tried to play it cool, because he knows that Todd is even more worried. 

The blond nods anyway, giving back a pathetic, tight-lipped smile that barely counts as anything but a grimace. He trots into the dorm, and closes the door, staring at the cold room with a tired gaze. It's stupid. Maybe he is overreacting, and maybe Neil will be fine, but that's the thing. What if he won't be? What if his father will actually make him change schools because of bad influences, and Todd will never see him again. Mr. Perry definitely won't allow them to talk, especially after tonight. 

Without Neil, what is he supposed to do? 

Todd makes his way over to the heater, and leans against the wall on his side of the room. It's where Neil likes to stand when they talk while Todd is reading, or doing homework in bed. 

His eyes close, and somehow, his body feels a little sore. 

So, he slides down onto the floor, and crosses his arms, burying his face in them miserably. He can't feel the tip of his nose, and his lips. As though they froze off. Is the heater even on? Todd doesn't know. He closes his eyes, and lets out a shaky breath, pulling his knees a little closer to his trembling body. 

Neil will be fine.

It's okay. 

~×~

Neil sits in the office of his father. In front of him, the angry man stares down at him like he's the next best version of dirt. His mother, silent as ever, sits on an armchair across the room. 

It's cold. Has it always been so cold in their home?

Honestly, the only thing Neil can think of right now is Todd's expression. His words, and the way his trembling arms were clasping at him like Neil is the medicine to Todd's incurable illness. It makes Neil feel a little warmer; the fact that his friends—that Todd cares so much. In fact, so much that he stood up for him in front of dozens of people. It's the only thing keeping him sane in this situation.

“We are trying very hard to understand why it is that you insist on defying us,” the man grits out through his teeth, voice sounding a little raspy. 

It's ridiculous. Neil's father says it as though he's been trying to make him upset. Though, he's just been trying to be happy. It's something his father doesn't understand. Happiness. His parents married because of advantages, not because they were in love. Joy is far from his family, Neil is afraid. 

“Whatever the reason, we're not gonna let you ruin your life,” his father sighs “Tomorrow I'm withdrawing you from Welton, and enrolling you in Braden Military School.”

Neil dies. He feels his body die, decay, and become one with earth. His gaze finds his father's, and he's trying so hard to understand what this man even wants from him. They're fine. His parents are fine. Why does Neil have to become successful? Can't they be fine with him becoming happy? Something they never experienced.

“You're going to Harvard, and you're going to be a doctor.”

At one point in his life, Neil believed that he wanted to become a doctor. That he wanted to study, and get all the money his family didn't have the achievements for. Now, however, he feels his entire body shatter at the thought, because it's just not him. It's not what he enjoys, not what he wants, not what he needs. It's not right. There's nothing that's right about this. Not the Military School, and not Harvard. Neil can't. It's impossible, why doesn't he get that?

“But that's ten more years,” Neil starts, because it's true, because becoming a doctor sucks the soul out of people, and because he needs a good excuse, “Father, that's a lifetime!”

Immediately, his father speaks up. “Oh stop it,” he says, sternly, “Don't be so dramatic. You make it sound like a prison term.”

It is. To Neil, it is. 

There's no way he could see it as anything else but a prison term. 

“You don't understand, Neil. You've got opportunities that I've never even dreamt of,” his father says, voice raising in volume, and Neil feels something boil up in his chest, “I am not going to let you waste them!”

Suddenly, something Neil flips. Like a switch deep in his mind that has been waiting to be turned on for years, and years. He stands up, and yells at his father. “I've got to tell you what I feel!” he says, so loudly that he feels the words scratch at his throat, and his eyes turn a little glassy. It seems that his father is startled by the sudden courage of Neil, and he stays silent for a moment or two. 

It's chaos.

“What?!”

His mother speaks for the first time in centuries, it seems, “We've been so worried about—!”

“What?!” his father repeats, interrupting the poor woman once again, “What? Then tell me what you feel.”

Now, the words are stuck in Neil's throat. It burns a little, and tears prick at the corners of his eyes as he stares into his father's eyes, who look back at him furiously. He can't. Neil can't. He's never done this. He's never spoken about his feelings. Not to his father, especially. It's impossible, he can't, he can't, he can't, he can't—

But Todd could. 

Back at the play, Todd did something for him that he had never done before. The blond spoke about his feelings, about vulnerable feelings. In front of strangers, many strangers. Neil can't even imagine how scared he must've been. During that poem in class, he had sounded and looked like he was about to pass out. In that entry hall, Neil thought that Todd looked as though he was slowly shattering from the inside out. He did something impossible. 

So, maybe Neil can do something impossible too. 

“I feel like I'm dying,” he croaks out, quietly, and he averts his gaze.

Surprisingly, both of his parents stay quiet, letting him talk, and Neil continues with trembling hands.

“I feel like every expectation you have of me builds up on my shoulders until I shatter completely, and fall off the brink of sanity. I feel like you push your own needs onto me, because you think I have the same,” Neil says, and his voice is shaking as his volume rises with a boost of confidence that comes from the stunned silence of his parents, “I feel like I'm going to drop dead every time I see you, because I'd rather die than disappoint you. I feel like it's impossible to exist in this family, because I'd rather die than disappoint you, but because I'd also rather die than be unhappy for the rest of my life.” 

It's almost a little funny. The way Neil raises his gaze to look at his father, and the man has the softest expression that Neil has ever seen the stern man make. His eyebrows are a little raised, and his eyes widened just slightly. 

“I feel like you don't listen to me when I try to explain what acting means to me, what my friends mean to me,” Neil mutters, closing his eyes, and crossing his arms to keep his heart from feeling like it'll explode any second now, “I feel like you will never understand what I feel, because you're so caught up in thinking about how you feel that you don't even consider the fact that I'm not okay. Not at all,” it's so cold, Neil feels like he's freezing, “I feel like I can't breathe, like you're suffocating me. I feel like you're telling me to die, because that's what leaving Welton means to me. That's what not acting means to me. Dying. You're telling me to die, father.” 

Quiet. It's quiet.

There's not a single sound except the cold wind hitting the windows, and Neil stares at his father with teary eyes. He can see his body tremble, and feel the way his breathing storms into his lungs like a winter breeze. It's unbelievably cold, and Neil doesn't know what to do, because if his father just shuts him off again, he doesn't have anything else to say. There'll be nothing else he can do to convince him, and he'll have to accept his fate.

Then, surprisingly quiet, his father says, “You're going to get a good job.”

Neil is a little confused. He keeps on staring at his father for a moment before looking over at his mother, who looks just as puzzled. Luckily, his father elaborates. “You will…Keep on going to Welton, you'll get good grades, and you will get a good job,” the man sighs, averting his gaze, “You can keep up your…Acting business, but if it affects your grades, I will cut you off from it completely.”

Something inside of Neil suddenly blooms like a sunflower. In the middle of winter.

“Father, you—,” the brunette mutters, vision blurring with tears, and he quickly wipes them away, because he's scared to get scolded, “Thank you, father. I'm—Thank you, I will keep up my grades. I'll get a good job, and I—I—I'll be good. I'll be good.”

A nod is the only response his father gives before he puts his hand on Neil's shoulder, and leaves the office.

However, his mother comes rushing to him immediately, throwing her arms around him and hugging him tightly. Neil can't help it, and tears start flowing down his face as he hugs his mother back. He hasn't been hugged by her for years. It's been a decade, or maybe even a little more than that. His arms tighten around her small, sad frame, and he sobs into her shoulder as she runs a hand through his brown hair.

“I'm so sorry, Neil. You're doing so well.”

It's all the boy needs to hear to be content with her. It's okay now, he's okay, and it's all thanks to his friends. It's all thanks to Mr. Keating. 

It's all thanks to Todd . 

~×~

Chapter Text

~×~

Just as the birds wake up, and yell out in harmony with the rise of the sun, Todd blinks open his eyes. There's a strange sound. Clicking. As though the dorm door is opening, and then closing again. 

It's still so early, and even though a few very weak sun rays shine into the cold room, and it seems brighter because of the snow's reflection, Todd is so unbelievably tired that he sees shadows everywhere. He feels empty. As though someone has robbed him of his energy. So, he closes his eyes again, and doesn't even try to sit up, because he's afraid he'll faint once he moves too much. It's tiring to even think. 

“Todd, are you awake?”

For a moment, the blond is pretty sure he's imagining it. The soft hum of Neil's voice. How could he be here? After all, he's at home right now, and won't be back until morning, if his father even lets him stay at Welton.

Then, suddenly, Todd realises that it's already morning, and all the energy he's lost returns to his body. His eyes shoot open, and he sits up clumsily, ruffling up his blanket, and almost throwing it off his body. When his gaze lands on Neil, who stands in the middle of the room in a thick coat, Todd freezes. It's such a relief. It's such a relief to see Neil with his usual grin, and a delightful aura. Whatever has happened, it seems like it's okay, and even if it isn't, he's here. 

Todd doesn't waste any time before jumping out of bed, pulling his blanket off the mattress with him, and hugging the taller boy tightly. He buries his face in Neil's shoulder, and pulls him into an embrace that would almost count as a chokehold to some.

Still, Neil returns it after a few seconds, and everything is okay, even if it isn't. Todd doesn't know, but he doesn't care, because Neil is here. He's with him again, and sure, it's only been a few hours. However, those hours were undoubtedly the worst hours of his life. The blond has never been more worried, and less happy. Ever. It's almost like Neil has become his source of life energy. Maybe it's unhealthy, but how could Todd be upset when Neil's energy is so soft, and warm?

“Woah, when did you become so strong, hm?” Neil chokes out in laughs, his breath tickling the side of Todd's neck, and he quickly lets go with wide eyes, lips parted. Oh, right. Breathing. Neil needs to breathe. 

A little stupidly, he stares at the boy, Neil's arms still around him as he tries to step back. “Sorry, I got—I was excited,” Todd huffs, averting his gaze with a bashful smile, and fidgeting with his arms and hands as he so often does. 

It's a beautiful feeling when Neil only laughs, and pulls Todd back into a hug. Now, the brunette buries his face in Todd's neck. It's quiet; it’s soft.

“Thank you.”

Honestly, he's a little confused for a moment, because he doesn't know what Neil is thanking him for. So, he simply keeps quiet, and moves his arms to awkwardly hold onto the arms that are holding him. After a moment, when Neil is not elaborating, Todd decides to ask. “What—What are you thanking me for?” he questions, quietly, just because a soft volume seems right. 

“After the play, you encouraged me,” Neil hums against Todd's skin, and it tickles a little, but it's not an unwelcome feeling, “In front of so many people, Todd, you were amazing . I'm—I guess I'm also thanking you because your words made me realise that speaking up to my father isn't impossible.” 

Those words melt something inside of the blond, and his expression softens so much that his eyes fall closed gently. He tries to keep from smiling, but there's a stupid grin on his lips anyway. The same one that Neil always manages to magically push onto his face whenever he feels down. Like on his birthday, or after the poem in class. Even on their first day together. It's a little like they complete each other. Or, at least, Neil completes Todd, and Todd is so unbelievably happy that he seems to have some positive effect on the brunette as well. 

“He was going to send me away from Welton, but I finally told him how I feel. I told him all about it, Todd, and even though he wasn't very nice about it, I can stay here,” Neil grins, pulling away slightly, and suddenly the blond's neck feels cold, and exposed, “He's even letting me continue acting if I manage to keep my grades up! I'll continue acting, can you believe it?”

No, Todd wants to say, because he honestly can't. 

“Yes,” Todd says, though, “because you're amazing, Neil.”

That causes a happy laugh to rack through Neil’s body, and he pulls the blond boy back into a tight embrace. For a few minutes, they just stay like that; hugging, and silently caressing each other’s arms, backs, or hands. It’s soft, so unbelievably warm. Todd can’t believe it . The fact that Neil did it. He went, and he seriously did it, and Todd wonders briefly, if this is what love feels like. Being so unbelievably proud, and happy for another person. At this point, even with a slight hunch, he doesn’t care whether he loves Neil as a friend or as more than that. In the end, it’s both so undoubtedly beautiful that the blond boy doesn’t mind either. 

After their little moment alone, they both decide that they—or rather Neil—should tell the others he’s back. They deserve to wake up with the same shock Todd did.

The first person they wake up is Charlie, followed by a grumpy Cameron in the bed next to his. It’s sweet. Todd thinks it’s sweet to see the boys’ expressions go from confused, and tired, to surprised, and delighted. They wake up the others shortly after, and everyone is so—so happy, that Todd can’t help but admire Neil once again. He managed to make so many people care for him—worry about his well being. It’s amazing. Neil is amazing. Maybe he is biassed, but how could he possibly not be? 

“We were really worried, don’t ever scare me like that again,” Nuwanda huffs out something near to a sob as he hugs Neil tightly, who’s grinning at everyone’s reactions. They’re all here now, in their dorm, and all of them are smiling with wide, happy eyes.

Neil hums, “It’s thanks to Todd that I'm here again.”

The blond boy in question immediately shrinks into himself as all the boys glance over at him, and when Charlie lets go of Neil to do the same, it’s even worse. There’s an almost teasing grin on the guy’s face, making Todd shake his head slowly. Though, before he can do anything, Charlie nearly tackles him, and holds him under his arm, ruffling his hair. “Look at you go, Toddy!” he laughs, rustling over the blond’s head with his fist while the others laugh along delightfully.

After a while, Todd can’t help but join in, still pushing Charlie away, but smiling at him afterwards. 

All of them start questioning Neil, and the brunette tells them the details of what happened, with a big smile, and big gestures. Just like everything else he does, it's always grand, and big: Amazing, really. 

It kind of reminds Todd of Mr. Keating. The man also acts grand, and big. They're both really similar in a way, it's funny. Todd thinks it's hilarious. Maybe that's mainly because he's liked Neil from the start, just how he's liked Mr. Keating from the first English lesson on. Even though they both can be horribly infuriating sometimes—because they like to push, and Todd likes to stand, not to walk. 

After a big round of way too loud cheering, and more storytelling, they all leave the dorm. It's almost time for breakfast now, and they make their way to Mr. Keating's room. It's just fair that they wake him up too, isn't it? 

So, with big grins, and loud laughs, they rush into the man's room, and shake his bed frame like there's no tomorrow. Mr. Keating awakes with wide eyes, sitting up shakily, and looking around himself. As soon as he spots Neil, who has come home victorious, the man grins as well. Todd notices that throughout the first half of the year, they have become a family. It's something he's learned: Family isn't blood, family is love. He loves the Dead Poets Society. It's his family, no matter how many mistakes they make. 

After they tell Mr. Keating about it all, they have a breakfast of victory. Together. 

~×~

In the late afternoon, Neil sits by the pier. The lake is frozen shut, and it's so cold that the brunette can't feel his fingers. Still, it reminds him of being alive, and he enjoys the way the ice melts under his warm touch.

Far in the distance, he can see snow clouds creep over to their school, and he already feels thrilled. Neil hopes for snow. More snow, that is. Mostly because the last times it snowed were always negative, and he desperately wants to make some good memories in the snow this winter. With his friends. With Todd, hopefully. Of course with Mr. Keating too, who has become something like a father figure to them. 

“Aren't you freezing?” A voice behind him asks, and he turns around to watch Todd walk up to him. 

Neil lets out a loud laugh, shrugging as he stands up from kneeling near the ice. “I am! I'm trying to become a snowman,” he says, and the blond snorts. They stand next to each other with smiles, and both of their gazes drag towards the frozen lake. It's eerily quiet in winter. Usually one can hear the ducks, or insects, but in winter there's nothing to hear. So, Neil is actually very glad that Todd has come to join him. 

It's less lonely that way.

“Are the others still at it?” Neil questions, because all the Poets made their way to the cave earlier—preparing a Welcome-Back-Party as though Neil has been gone for months. He appreciates it, of course. In fact, he's thrilled for it, as long as Charlie doesn't get the brilliant idea to invite outsiders again. Neil is happy with just the Poets. “I'm actually here to get you. They sent me to bring you to the cave,” Todd chuckles sheepishly, hugging himself, because the temperatures really are dropping, “Of course I have to cover your eyes and everything.”

Neil laughs, turning around to walk away from the lake with Todd. Their steps make soft crunching sounds in the snowy, frozen grass. It sounds funny. 

As they make their way towards the forest, careful not to be noticed by any teachers, the sky begins to darken above them. Evidently, clouds have been hiding the sun regardless of the time, but it's less obvious when the sun vanishes completely. Besides the temperatures dropping some more after sunset, it's also obvious by the way the birds stop singing as they rush through the trees. 

“Alright, wait,” Todd laughs breathlessly, stopping shortly before the cave. With a few short steps, he comes up behind Neil, and puts his cold, soft hands in front of the brunette's eyes.

It feels a lot warmer than it should feel, since Todd's hands are freezing, but Neil can feel the warm blood that fills them. His skin feels alive, and soft, like comfort, and the taller boy doesn't mind becoming blind for a few steps. Obviously, he can see a few flickers of the forest through the clumsy gaps between Todd's fingers, but Neil doesn't say anything. So, they make their way toward the cave slowly, with the blond boy carefully stumbling as he tries to guide Neil, but also make sure not to lose the way himself. 

Inside, there's quiet hustling, and muttering, as though the other Poets are trying to stay quiet. They're miserably failing, and when Neil hears Meeks curse quietly just as they stop walking, he can't help but smile brightly. His friends are idiots. A bunch of idiots, and he loves them. 

“Alright, Todd, let the man see!”

There's a breathy chuckle behind him, and Neil even feels the air of it against his neck, “Alright.” 

Far too soon, the gentle hands in front of his eyes are gone, and Neil blinks a few times as he looks around himself. All the boys stand or sit in the cave, and there's a lot of food, and alcohol, because of course there is. The only thing Neil cares about is the fact that it's only them. It's their thing, and all of them are here. Really, he even missed Cameron, which says a lot. Especially since it hasn't even been a full day. As Neil turns his head to look at Todd with raised eyebrows, the blond only looks back at him with a shy grin, like he's embarrassed about the entire thing. Charlie probably planned it all, along with Knox. 

Right in front of him, Neil sees something that looks like a poorly thrown together armchair—maybe something Pitts and Meeks built up quickly in the last few hours. A big grin settles on Neil's lips, and he carefully sits down on it with a long sigh.

“Our king has returned,” Charlie shouts loudly, and all the others laugh in the same volume, like their cave is shut off from the rest of the night.

Then, something happens that Neil doesn't expect.

No one expects it, probably.

Todd rushes up to the wannabe armchair, throws an arm around Neil, and lets out a big cry of victory—a yawp. No, a barbaric yawp.

It's silent for just a few seconds as the other boys stare in shock, but Neil only grins, returning the gesture of a half-hug, and letting out the same wild, and loud noise. Soon enough, all the others join in. They probably sound like a bunch of madmen, or poorly voiced wolves. 

After that, everything pretty much escalates.

They start feasting on snacks they found in the school's kitchen, and drink the alcohol that Charlie got from God knows where. Really, they have their ways, Neil won't question it. It's fun anyway, so he doesn't need to. Everyone drinks, even if not too much, and they eat food that hammers cavities into their teeth. Neil honestly didn't know that their school had food this sweet. 

At some point, Charlie plays another Saxophone solo, and they smoke the pipes they left there some day during a meeting. 

It's all quite magical, if Neil is allowed to say. He's quite proud of it all—his friends, this society they created. A safe space. A home. Maybe some boys of their little group have it harder, some don't have it very hard, but it doesn't matter, because they're all here. Now. Right now. Not even the future can catch up to them while they're down here, yelling, and chanting—having fun. 

Maybe, Neil thinks, everything was intended to be like this.

It does take quite a while, but once they calm down a little, a few of them fall asleep in the cave. By a few of them, Neil means Pitts, Meeks, and Charlie. It's quite cold, so after the awake ones finish having their fun, they wake the others up, and make their way back to the school.

Just as they reach the grounds once again, Neil stops for a moment, looking over at the frozen lake. 

Next to him, Todd waits patiently, following the brunette's gaze to see what he's looking at. “It's really pretty,” Todd says as they both stare out onto the ice, which is reflecting the moonlight now that the clouds are slowly thinning out. 

With a hum, Neil glances over at the shorter boy, gazing at his expression—almost a little lost.

Luckily, he finds himself again in the boy's eyes before losing his entire body by being sucked into the ocean of Todd's existence. Maybe Neil is being a little dramatic, but the cold makes the blond's skin a little redder, and his blue eyes shine a little brighter in the moonlight. It's almost as though the winter night whispers into Neil's ear, and he breathes out in a weak chuckle, “Yeah, really pretty.”

It's silent for just a moment, and Todd glances back at him. The blond's eyes widen, and his lips part, like he's about to say something—

“Guys, hurry up! It's freezing out here!”

Neil snaps out of his thoughts, and he quickly lets out a laugh, grabbing Todd's arm. “Quick, before those wimps start crying,” he jokes gently, and when the blond chuckles, Neil takes off quickly, pulling Todd along. 

Getting back to their dorms drunk, cold, and properly giddy is probably the hardest part of it all. 

It's not like they haven't done something similar before, but there's just something about tonight that makes it especially good. Like all the boys drank something magical out of ancient bottles from old alcohol brands. Almost like there's just a tinge of fairy dust in the snow that covers them, because of the wind that threw it off the trees ever so harshly. Whatever it is, Neil decides that it's positive, because he can't stop smiling, and when he pushes into his dorm quietly, with Todd right in front of him, everything's perfect.

Their radiator is warming the room just right, and their beds are tidy, even though Neil doesn't really remember Todd making his bed—the brunette didn't sleep in his, so that one makes sense. 

So, with a big grin, and a loud sigh, Neil sheds himself of his coat just as Todd does the same, and he throws himself on his creaky bed. Honestly, he has always hated the beds at Welton, but he's never been more happy to lay on one than right now. The stiff mattress is somehow so comfortable all of a sudden, and the thin blanket is just thick enough for the right kind of warmth. Though, when he covers himself with it, and turns around to look over at Todd's bed, the blond is already looking.

Oh. Neil didn't expect that.

For a moment, they just look at each other, like back outside, and then Todd lets out a breathless huff of laughter.

Neil smiles, confused, giving a chuckle, “What?”

“Nothing, it—it's nothing,” Todd huffs, smiling as he lies down as well, still facing Neil as he pulls the blanket over himself, “Just—I'm really glad you're going to stay here, you know?”

Those words knock something over in Neil's chest, and something simply starts pouring, and pouring, until everything is flooded.

Then, just as the something is about to overflow, escaping out of his mouth—he swallows.

“I'm glad as well. Good night, Todd,” Neil hums, smiling as he gets himself comfortable on the horrible pillows. Next to him, the blond boy lets out a gentle hum, and Neil watches as his eyes close, and exhaustion washes over his features.

All of them are tired.

Neil is, too. He'll sleep in a bit. 

It's just that the moon is shining into their room just right right now, and maybe Neil has to admire something before starting his journey to Dreamland. 

It's definitely worth the exhaustion. 

~×~

Chapter Text

~×~

The days go by like seconds after everything returns to normal. All of them keep going with school, obviously, and they continue meeting in their cave to read poetry. Surprisingly, Todd isn't so opposed to reading already written poems anymore, and he already has. The other Poets cheered him on quite excitedly, even though he still refuses to read his own poems. 

Winter comes easily, slowly, like a gentle breeze carrying itself into their lives. They start talking about Christmas break—who leaves, and who stays at Welton. 

It's a surprise to none when Neil tells them that he'll spend the holiday at school, despite most of the other boys leaving. The only other person staying is Todd. Not because he doesn't want to see his family, but rather because he feels bad leaving Neil behind, and besides, his family hasn't even tried to contact him properly ever since he entered this school. It is quite ridiculous to him; The way that he knows his family so well, yet they don't try to know him at all. His brother is an exception in some way, because Jeffrey often tries to talk to him, but he has a busy life too, and quite frankly, Todd feels insecure next to his older brother. 

So, when the break begins, and the school empties out slowly, Todd stands at the snowy entrance as he watches Neil say goodbye to their friends. They wave at him from a distance, yelling out stupid jokes, and laughing as they enter the cars of their families. Todd smiles. 

Maybe they'll be some of the only boys that stay at Welton, but he doesn't mind. Mostly because Neil is there with him, and Christmas is a holiday you celebrate with your family, so there's no difference. Neil is his family. So are the other poets, who would've stayed without hesitation if they could. Todd knows they would have, because they told him with big smiles, and joking grins, telling him they'd spend the Easter weekend together, dyeing eggs like little kids. 

“Come on, Todd,” Neil hums suddenly, and the blond boy hasn't even realised that the other returned to the door, “I have a surprise for you!”

That certainly piques his interest.

Though, he really doesn’t even have a choice, because Neil grabs his wrist in a gentle, firm grip, and pulls him along. Todd lets out a confused, startled chuckle as he follows the taller boy with clumsy steps, through the building, and out the back, like they couldn’t be caught incredibly easily.

It doesn’t take long until Todd realises that they are heading to the cave, and he wonders what Neil did that is supposed to surprise him. Really, he's learned to expect the unexpected with his friend. 

The snow gives satisfying crunches beneath their feet, and the trees are swaying a little in the storming wind. Todd finds that it isn't as cold with Neil's hand on his wrist. That thought strengthens once the other's fingers trail down until they're intertwined with Todd's, which makes a strange sort of tingle shoot through his arm. 

It doesn't take long until they both stumble down the frosty stone steps into the cave, and Todd is almost sure that he sees Neil trip and catch himself. Which, evidently, brings a smile to his cold lips. 

To his surprise, the cave isn't dark, like it usually would be.

No, there's a bright, yellow-ish glow coming from inside, and Todd's eyes widen the closer they come to it.

Then, he sees his surprise. 

A small, crooked Christmas tree with fairy lights, and red-golden ribbons all around the branches. It's small, and ugly, and Todd loves it. The closer he comes to it, the more he notices. Like the little wooden angels that are hanging on some of the ends, and the big, crooked star that's made out of wires, sitting at the top of the tree. Beneath it, there are three boxes, each decorated with a ribbon of different colour. One green, one red, one blue. They're all quite small, and Todd sinks to his knees with a big grin. 

“Neil! Neil, you—,” he laughs, eyes wide like he's a little kid, because he doesn't know Christmas this way, this beautiful, “You got us a Christmas tree!”

Neil comes up behind him with a hum, and the blond boy doesn't remember when their hands parted, but they are touching again once Neil grabs his wrist to guide his arm over to the presents. “Actually, Todd, I got you a Christmas tree,” the brunette corrects proudly, grinning that wide, gentle grin he always has, “And I got you three little, humble presents.” 

Todd huffs in disbelief.

He glances over at Neil just as he pulls the box with the blue ribbon onto his lap. Three Christmas presents. Three presents. His parents never— Oh. Oh, he loves Neil so much.

“Go on! Open it!” The brunette laughs giddily, kneeling next to his friend as he waits for his presents to be revealed, “I know it's not Christmas yet, but it doesn't matter.” 

The mere thought that Neil has put so much effort into this surprise. That he woke up early to find a stupid tree and cut it, and decorate it. He probably stole the decoration from their school, and the thought makes Todd only happier. 

With cold, clumsy, excited fingers, Todd opens the first box. It's small, a little bigger than the size of his palm, but the inside makes his breath hitch.

A pen. 

A beautiful, dark green pen, with silver decorative elements that nearly look like vines. 

Todd stares at it.

He blinks.

It's just a pen. It's just a pen, but it's the first present he's ever gotten that makes sense. It's just a pen, but it's the first present he's ever gotten that isn't something he doesn't want. Just a pen, and the first present he likes. The first present he knows was thought about a lot. 

“Oh,” Todd breathes, and he blinks again, because the pen— his pen—is so beautiful that he might cry, “Oh, Neil.”

The grin on the brunette’s lips is so obviously audible when he speaks, voice all giddy and proud, “Go on! Please, open the next one. The green one! Open—Open the green one!”

Immediately at the request, Todd grabs the slightly bigger box with the green ribbon.

He feels like a kid.

And, oh, it's a wonderful feeling. 

As he raises the carton lid of the slightly damp box, Todd peeks inside to find something else that makes his eyes sting positively. 

A notebook. 

What is it with Neil and his beautiful, darling simplicity?

Todd wants to kiss him for it. 

Oh, no. No, no, no. 

“A—Neil, you're—God, Neil,” Todd huffs, and his voice is embarrassingly shaky. 

Again. Again, it's just a notebook. 

Yet, no one will ever understand how much more it is.

A symbol of Neil's understanding, of his knowledge. A symbol for how well Neil knows him. For how much he cares. 

It's a beautiful notebook too. 

A red leather cover with silver letters writing out the word «Poetry» in a beautiful font. 

Gently, Todd flicks it open to take a look at the pages, which are a gentle, beige colour, with symmetrical, horizontal lines, leaving room for big writing. 

“Thank you,” Todd breathes, and he hasn't even opened the third present, “Thank you, Neil.”

The brunette doesn't seem ready to accept gratitude just yet, because he snatches the red present with a big grin and holds it out to Todd like he just can't wait for him to open it. Really, it nearly seems like Neil is the one being showered with presents, even though Todd is being spoiled so ridiculously.

A surprise it is, truly. 

Todd can't help the genuine laugh that escapes his throat as he nods, starting to remove the lid from this box as well. 

Maybe ink. Or more pens, even. 

Expect the unexpected with Neil. Always. 

Inside of the box lay three things. A deep red scarf, knitted, with beautiful, rough details of golden leaves, and white snowflakes. A silver necklace, with a pretty, blue locket at the end. And a singular, little note with the words; Carpe Diem. Seize the day, Todd Anderson. Yours truly, Neil Perry.  

Oh.

Oh.

Something stupid clicks in Todd's mind. A fact that's been swirling around in his head for weeks now, but he could never quite place it.

A little, oh. 

Oh, I think I'm actually in love with him.

Which, in retrospect, sounds a little stupid, because of course he is. Of course Todd is in love with Neil Perry, because who wouldn't be? Who wouldn't fall in love with someone so—so good. So genuine. Someone so smart, and funny, and brave, and explosive. 

Todd doesn't think he's surprised. A little relieved, maybe, now that he's found the words for the blooming ache in his heart. Though, not surprised in the least. 

It's like there's been a voice in the back of his head. A voice that has been there since day one, telling him that, yeah, of course he'll fall in love. Neil Perry seems easy to fall in love with. And Neil, oh, Neil is even easier to fall for. Todd doesn't question it—doesn't try to find an answer for why, because he already has it. He simply has to—has to look at Neil, and there the answer waits. 

It's written all over his face.

His boyish grin, and his dark eyes, his raised eyebrows, and his crooked smile. The dimples on his cheek, and his yellow teeth, even the little mole right beneath his right eyelid. 

“Todd?”

Todd blinks.

He snaps out of his thoughts, and finds himself staring down at the opened, untouched box. Right. Christmas. 

For a short moment, the blond boy tries to find the right words. He parts his lips and moves them aimlessly, as though he knows the words, but just can't voice them. Stupidly, his lips form a pathetic string of I love you, I love you, I love you. Though, he guesses that Neil doesn't notice. Hopefully not. So, after a short moment of Todd staring and gaping, he turns to Neil, pushes the box off of his lap, and pulls him into a tight hug. 

“Thank you,” Todd breathes into the crook of Neil's cold neck, breathing in the smell of cheaply washed clothes, and dirty water from the snow. 

It, unsurprisingly, doesn't take long until his hug is reciprocated. With two long, gentle arms wrapping around his middle to pull him close, and keep him close. It's a little warmer like that, and Todd decides not to let go. Neil doesn't seem to mind. “Thank you,” he repeats, because he feels so—so grateful. For so many things. Not only for the presents, but also for the presents, and he thinks that maybe, Neil knows. Maybe he knows that Todd feels grateful for things as stupid and random as Neil being his roommate. Or maybe he knows that Todd loves him more than he loves the way it feels to be liked and praised for his own poetry. 

A ridiculous comparison if one doesn't understand the sheer strength it takes Todd to speak of his own thoughts in front of others. To reveal such a vulnerable part of himself. 

“Of course, Todd. Of course, I—You don't have to thank me, I promise,” Neil huffs, and the blond feels his grins against the cold shell of his ear, “I know it's early. Very early, a week before Christmas or so, but I wanted to make you happy. I hope you're happy. I've thought about these presents for a while, and I'm glad you like them.”

Todd hums, “Of course I do.” 

“Good.”

It's silent for a while, and neither of them let's go. It kind of reminds Todd of the night he's held Neil while he cried, right after Mr. Perry had visited him. A scary memory, which he pushes back down immediately, focusing on the heartbeat he feels against the thick fabric of his coat. Why is Neil's heart so…Loud? 

The arms around his waist slowly untangle, and not wanting to trap the brunette, Todd follows the movement as they let go of each other. 

His blue eyes scan the other boy's expression, which is almost a little unreadable, but it seems happy. Though, Todd is sure there's something else. Something he can't quite place. 

Suddenly, he remembers something.

“Oh. Actually, I—I also have a present for you,” Todd breathes, and when he watches Neil's expression shift into excitement, he quickly shakes his head, averting his gaze with a bashful smile, “No, it's…Nothing special. Not a materialistic thing, even. Just…I wrote a poem for you, and I know it's—it’s stupid, but I kind of thought that you—”

“I love that,” Neil interrupts.

When Todd’s gaze shifts back and settles on Neil's face, he sees the genuine spark of happiness in his eyes, and a warmth settles over him like a blanket. A blanket that covers every part of his body, like a large truth or safety that he's never known before. 

Todd nods. Then, he nods again, glancing down at his fingers, which are fidgeting in his lap.

“Do you know it? Or should we go back so you can read it—you know, off of your papers or something?” Neil asks, and Todd hums.

He shakes his head. “No. No, I, uh. I memorised it. Because I—,” the blond starts, closing his eyes in embarrassment, “I spent a lot of time thinking about it, so it…Kind of stuck.”

There's a quiet chuckle, an amused one. It isn't judgemental by all means, just a little teasing.

After a good moment of silence once again, Todd straightens his back a little, and his eyes stay closed. His cold fingers are messily fidgeting with the edges of his thick sleeves, and he thinks back to the words he's written on so many different pieces of paper. So many…Words he's changed, just because they didn't quite feel Neil. 

His heart is beating in his ears.

It's just him.

Just him, and Neil. 

“Mortal as time can be, I stare down at the lake at night,” he breathes, and breathes, and it's okay, “I feel the cold creep up my back, and mortal lives at stake…”

Neil doesn't interrupt him, and so Todd continues, “I wish for you here next to me, and next to me you came.”

Deep breaths. 

“Immortal you, eternal heart, and laughing out untamed,” Todd hums, opening his eyes to see Neil watching him with an endearing curiosity written all over his features, “For one day with the stars in hand, you'll rise above to claim. My gaze will lift, and there I'll find your frame.”

A small chuckle. Nothing more.

Todd smiles, “You discover tame terrain, much different to your pain.”

For some reason, even after Todd has finished, it stays silent between them for a long time. They stare at each other, with Neil's eyes wide with excitement, and his lips curled up with anticipation. It's as though he waits for a sign to know that Todd is really finished, and the thought makes something inside of the blond boy twist positively. After a minute or so, he has enough. “That’s—That’s it,” he breathes, sounding a little amused, and he tries to continue, “I know it's barely anything, considering what you—”

Arms wrap around him again, pulling him close, and squeezing. 

Todd lets out a startled yelp before snorting, returning the deathly hug that Neil is giving him. “Oh, you're amazing,” the brunette praises, “Oh, Todd, oh, that was beautiful.” 

“C—Calm down,” Todd laughs, and Neil wiggles them around aimlessly, making the blond boy laugh even more, “Neil!”

The taller boy doesn't react, doesn't respond at all. He just holds Todd tighter, and his grin is so wide that Todd wonders if his cheeks hurt. However, then there's a big hand in his hair at the back of his head, pushing his face into the side of Neil's neck, and Todd laughs gently. “Perry!” he snorts, even though he doesn't exactly complain, especially since he's pulling Neil closer as well. 

“You're amazing,” the brunette repeats, and now he calms his movements, sags back against the stone wall, and just keeps Todd close. 

It's cold.

Todd's body feels so unbelievably warm. 

It's silent again, then. For quite a while too, because they hug, and they just sit there, thrown over from Neil's antics. The way they're cuddled together it almost looks like they're ready to take a nap, and honestly, Todd doesn't hate the idea. Falling asleep in Neil's arms next to a beautiful Christmas tree sounds like a dream come true, and to his surprise, this time his thoughts aren't interrupted by his dream ending. 

“Can I—Todd, can I ask you something?” Neil asks. 

Todd gives a slow hum, face still buried in the brunette's cold skin, voice a little muffled, “What is it?”

A short silence.

“Why do you feel uncomfortable when others see your body?” Neil questions quietly, but he doesn't let go of Todd, giving him the option of hiding away while he speaks.

And, oh, how the blond appreciates it. 

Honestly, Todd has to think about this question. Really hard. Mostly because he doesn't know. But also because he's not sure what Neil expects him to say. Does he think that, maybe, it is because Todd is gay? That he doesn't want to change in front of guys? Clearly, that would be a ridiculous reason. It's not that. Todd knows as much, that it's not because he likes men. He's uncomfortable with girls seeing his body too, which has happened only once, and it was his mother. So, maybe he should shut up.

His fingers fidget with the fabric they're twisted into on Neil's back, and his eyes are pressed closed tightly. 

“I’m not—I don't know. I think that maybe it's…I just don't like it? My body, I mean,” Todd starts with a shaky voice, and he's so, so, so scared for some reason, even though he feels the way Neil's arms tighten around him softly, “I don't really—I—I think it's too pale, and—and my ribs show. I have—I have moles and birthmarks, and I don't…I don't like them. I don't like me.” 

After Todd finishes, he takes a deep breath, like he's been saying it all in one breath. His grip on his friend tightens, like he's scared the other will push him away, and he screws his eyes shut even tighter.

It's so silent, and he can't hear anything over the loud thumping of his heart in his ears. He hates that sound. Todd hates it so, so much. Do others hear it too? Do others hear it, and think it's as annoying as he thinks it is? Todd doesn't want to be annoying. He doesn't—Why is he so scared all of a sudden? It's not fair. It's not fair how his emotions tip off into chaos with such simple things. It's not Neil's fault. It isn't. Todd doesn't want it to he, but it also isn't his own fault, and he—Maybe it is?

“Oh, Todd,” Neil says out of nowhere, and his voice is so quiet, so genuine, that the blond boy doesn't quite know what to do with it.

However, before he can try and find out what to do, exactly, Neil interrupts his train of thought. “You—What made you think that way? Who made you think that way? No child just…starts thinking such cruel things, that's—that’s terrible,” Neil breathes, and he sounds so worried that Todd loses his mind, he goes momentarily crazy, like he hit his head, and gets all dizzy. 

Because Neil has no idea how much those words mean to Todd.

Just how badly he's craved to hear them. To know that someone thinks it's not his own fault, like his mother says. That Todd isn't just broken, that he's not trying to be a burden. 

He just can't help it.

Neil knows.

The brunette knows, and so, after a while of tragic silence, Neil stops asking things. Instead, he stands up, and helps Todd to carry all of his new presents back inside, to their dorm. There, they take off their coats, and put on warm, knitted jumpers. Todd even tries on the scarf.

They talk a little before they're called into the hall for food, and somehow, the day is a success regardless. 

~×~

Chapter Text

~×~

There's quiet scratching of pencils against paper as Todd and Neil sit in their room. Even though the holidays still haven't ended, the two of them are already working on homework. It's so much that their teachers should be declared criminals. A whole paper worth of Chemistry homework over the Christmas holidays? Neil hoped this was going to be illegal soon. It's not that he’s already had enough of the holidays, which are insanely quiet with only Todd around, comfortable after Christmas, it's just that he hates writing. He's an actor, literally, not a writer. The blond boy next to him doesn't seem to have a problem with it all. 

At least not with Chemistry, because when Neil turns his head to look, the book is long gone, and Todd is writing something else. So, without hesitation, the brunette stumbles up from his bed, and nudges into his friend's space.

Before he can even ask, Todd turns away the paper, and Neil knows. English homework, then. Poetry. It's still a problem, it seems. Learning to read other's poetry has not helped Todd with reading his own, despite the Christmas gift. Neil still remembers that. He just wishes he could help somehow, make him feel more comfortable, more valid. The way Todd helped him with acting. After all, it was the blond who made him realise that he's allowed to be an actor, even with his father's distaste for it. That it isn't impossible. 

“What is it about?” Neil asks, but it's a strange question, because he's sure that Todd doesn't think he knows what he's writing in the first place.

So, the blond looks at him with that shy, sort of miserable expression. The one where he keeps glancing away, gaping like a fish without water, like he's expecting that Neil gives up—moves on. He doesn't. “So?” he presses instead, nudging his knee into Todd's, even though it makes him feel weird in the stomach, “I want to know! I'm living with a poet, after all. Kinda need to know what kind of poetry he's writing.”

“Uh, it's,” Todd starts, swallowing visibly, and it has Neil rip his gaze away from the other boy's pale throat, “English homework.”

He knows that. 

“Yeah? The poem,” Neil says.

Todd nods. “The…Poem.”

It's awfully silent for a while, and seriously, Neil is starting to believe that Todd just can't handle any kind of attention. Not only to his poetry, but also to himself. It brings back the memory of what Keating said back then in the class where he made Todd make up his own poem. Mr. Anderson thinks that everything inside of him is worthless, and embarrassing. It also makes Neil think about the fact that Todd still doesn't shower with them. It's—The brunette finds it unbearably tragic. 

“Do you want to read it to me? I'll tell you what I think,” Neil offers with a grin, gently pressing his elbow into the other boy's side, who immediately flinches a little at the contact. Strange. When those blue eyes meet him again, there’s a strange sort of lump in Neil's throat as he realises how close they are. Did he really sit that close to him? “I don't know,” Todd mutters, turning his head away, and it rips Neil out of his trance. I don't know, the brunette mocks in his head, but it's fine. It's okay. If Todd doesn't want to share, he can't force him. 

But he can convince him.

Or try to, anyway.

“Alright,” Neil hums, and he gets up from the bed, causing his friend to look after him. With an easy movement, he pulls his coat from his chair, and pushes his arms into the thick sleeves. Then, he picks up Todd's coat, and holds it out to him. 

The blond boy blinks. Once, twice—“Where are we going?” he asks, then, but he puts aside his homework, and stands up a little clumsily, stumbling off the mattress. Honestly, Neil can't help but smile at the sight. A sweet little treasure he'd remember forever. Something simple and small, almost unimportant. Not to him. Never to him. “Outside,” he responds simply, giving up the coat in his hands to Todd, and turning around to grab the scarf he bought for him.

For a minute, he gently caresses it, thinking back to the week he's spent buying presents for Todd. 

Continuously getting money from his family to buy little trinkets for him, not even able to wait until Christmas to give them to his friend. And the worst part of it all is that Todd actually uses them all. He only writes with the pen, and often scribbles into the notebook. He always wears the necklace, and doesn't go outside without the scarf. It does something to Neil's pathetic little heart. 

Quickly, the boy turns around to find Todd standing there in his coat, closing it up with a confused expression. A grin easily falls back onto Neil's lips, like it never left, and he steps closer to the blond. His hands gently wrap the scarf around his neck, taking his time to secure it. He feels blue eyes bore into him, and tries not to glance up to see them. It's very hard to resist. Neil is sure that Todd has the prettiest eyes he's ever seen, without melodramatic reasoning and poetic words, his eyes are simply ethereal. More than any he's seen.

And, surely, that's normal. Surely everyone who sees them thinks this way, because how could they not? Maybe he should ask Charlie once he's back at Welton. 

“Okay, let’s go,” Neil says, giving Todd a short smile before turning around to drag him outside. Even though a confused noise of complaint leaves the shorter boy as he trails after him. “It’s freezing out, where—where are we going?” he asks, but the brunette only grabs him by the elbow, and pulls him along. 

The way outside is a familiar one, an easy one. They rush down the stairs, and out the doors into the freezing, snowy cold. It's obvious where they're going when Neil nearly slips on the way down the hill, towards the docks at the lake. Luckily, Todd catches him with a snort, causing the taller boy to laugh at his own little slip up as well. They make it down to the lake as Neil settles to stand at the very edge of the wooden planks, the ice so full of snow that the lake is barely visible. 

Todd stands beside him, and glances out over the lake before looking at him—he sees it in his peripheral vision. “Just look how pretty the trees are in winter,” Neil grins, turning his head to return the gaze that his friend gives him. There's a moment of silence between them as time stops. It's somehow very easy to get lost in the sight of Todd's face. “Yeah,” the blond boy says with a nod, smiling in that soft way of his as his head turns once more, “Yeah, it's—The trees are beautiful. They're beautiful.” 

It's true. Every tree surrounding their school may have lost its leaves, but the snow is covering up every branch, painting it with a white nothingness that makes Neil feel a little like he's yearning for something. The feeling is complicated, and absolutely beautiful. As they stare out into the scenery, Neil tries not to focus on the way he can feel Todd's arm pressing into his. Why is he so aware of these things with him?

When he and Charlie touch, it's ordinary. It's something they do. Just a touch, a hug, a hold of their hands. With Todd it feels different. A little strange, and tingly in Neil's skin. Like a million snowflakes falling, and melting. It's a little silly, now that he thinks about it properly, because it's just Todd. They share a room, and they've shared vulnerable moments multiple times. Yet, he feels on edge a lot more with him than he does with the other poets. A bizarre thing.

“You were writing the poem,” Neil states , because he knows this, and he wants Todd to acknowledge it, “The poem for English class.” 

After a moment of silence, Todd gives a small, hesitant hum. When the brunette glances over at him, he's nodding in that soft, but frantic way of his. Like he's not sure what else to do with him other than to silently nod yes or no to everything he's being asked. A cruel thought enters Neil's mind, and he quickly steps onto the ice to lead it to different places.

It's slippery, even despite the snow covering it. His legs shake lightly as he stands, widened and unsure. Though, there's a grin on his lips, and he laughs gently at the terrifying nature of his actions. Todd stares at him with wide eyes, worried, and definitely disapproving. “Neil! You—You could fall into the lake!” he whisper-yells earnestly. And, oh, what a poor, innocent boy. So pure, never even walked onto a frozen lake. 

“Be still, my heart! O, how mine friend cares for mine health, with no exceptions,” Neil shouts with a big grin, arms extending as though he's on a stage. 

His legs are still widened, and slightly bent at the knee, like he's trying his best not to fall over. A stag on ice, really. Even though his eyes are closed, he opens them at the sound of Todd's chuckle. He doesn't regret it. The boy's smile is just barely hidden by his scarf, eyes lit up in that beautiful, mesmerising way as he shakes his head. “You’re a bit of an idiot, Neil Perry, do you know that?” he says, voice raised slightly, since they're about two metres away from each other now. 

“Know it?” Neil huffs in mock offence, and his head rises high up as his hand plants on his chest, and he grins from ear to ear, “I live it!”

Just as he says that, and his legs turn slightly with the turn of his body, he slips on the ice, and trips backwards. With a cry of worry, Todd rushes forward, only to knock into the brunette, and hold onto his arms tightly. Together they turn and tumble a little on the ice before they come to a stop with bent knees and wide eyes. It's silent, and they stare at each other with a silent sort of understanding. Though, while Neil's smile is rapidly growing in amusement, Todd’s smile seems to appear only after his eyes dart down to register the other's well-being. 

A snort leaves the blond boy's lips, and he lets out a sigh. “Neil, you will be the death of me,” he complains, but Neil only laughs, light in the heart. Brunette hair most likely tickles Todd's nose as his friend's head drops onto his shoulder. 

Then, there's silence again. Neil wonders if anyone can see them, since the buildings of their school aren't so far from the lake, but he decides he doesn't care. It's far too easy to relax his posture into Todd, lean on him a little as though they aren't standing on a death trap. For a moment, he considers telling the blond he managed to overcome his fear in a moment of fear. Just like last time. It's almost a bit comical. Though, as his lips part, Todd interrupts his attempt to speak with a quiet voice. 

“Your laugh is a beautiful sound,” he whispers, like he doesn't even realise he's said it out loud.

The words do something to Neil. His heart beats a little faster, and his eyes widen, staring at the fabric of Todd's coat. Oh. Oh. Beautiful. His laugh? He stills for a long moment before he slowly raises his head. When he stands up straight, his face is so close to his friend's that he can feel the blond’s breath on his lips. It makes him suck them into his mouth, because it tingles, and urges him forward, and—

He can't do that, right?

Luckily, just when his lips part, and he realises he's a little too close, Todd saves them both from embarrassment.

“Uh, ah—You—You wanted to know about the poem, right?” he whispers, and Neil snaps out of his thoughts with wide eyes. Quickly, the brunette swallows, and clears his throat before stepping back a little, letting go of Todd. Then, he nods. “Yes,” Neil says, lips pulling into a small, shaky smile, “If you're willing to share, of course, my sir.”

Despite the chuckle Todd lets out, and the laugh that follows from Neil's throat, it stays silent after that.

What just—What?

Neil doesn't really understand what happened. His thoughts are a bit of a mess. He tripped, and Todd helped him, and then they were so close, and Todd said—He said his laugh is a beautiful sound. It's a bit of a blur now, like his brain mildly short-circuited during it, and now the memories are a bit fuzzy. Did he try to kiss Todd?

Why?

No, that's the wrong question. He knows why. He knows why, and it makes him feel a little light headed. Neil thinks Todd is absolutely incredible, and utterly stunning. It's just logical, right? Anyone would kiss a person like that at the right moment. No matter if it's a boy or a girl. 

An absolute idiot.

“Uh—Neil?” Todd says quietly, and the brunette blinks, looking at his friend with a bit of a ridiculous expression. All wide-eyed and parted lips. 

Quickly, he musters up a bit of his usual acting skills, unsure where they've gone. A smile plasters on his lips, and he tilts his head gently. “Yes. Yes. Sorry, go on,” he hums, making a motion with his hand, and looking at Todd expectantly. The poem. Right. No, yes, Neil really wants to hear it. His mind is a pure mess, though. Just that. 

“Right. Yeah, okay,” Todd says, nodding again in that way Neil finds so comically endearing. For a moment, it seems like the blond boy is mustering up the courage, and then, he sighs. “Life is…But a coverage, a coverage for our lies. It helps us hide the ugly truth, the truth of—of songs of lives,” he recited quietly, gaze averting as Neil steps closer once more, unable to resist the pull of his magical words, “Those songs we sing—we sing with pride, we sing in others’ names. It's easy to be no one, if no one comes and claims.”

A short pause, and then Todd continues, “This song you sang as coverage, not hidden to my ears. My eyes you may deceive, but not with blood red tears.” 

“So—So, be gone , you softened evil, your time has shortened fast. My life is not a song to you, for songs are not as vast,” somehow, Todd's lips form around every word so beautifully, Neil has just realised that, “You can sing—You can sing so beautifully, but hear me when I say: Your act may just deceive me from time to time again, but—but stiffen up, you evil. It will come: my day.”

For a moment, silence returns. It's quiet, and Neil just stares at Todd, despite the other being so obviously nervous. How could he not, though? When that blond hair is just barely covering Todd's eyebrow, probably poking at his eyes, and Neil wants nothing more than to stroke it away. How is it fair? That the other looks at him with wide, blue eyes, and those parted lips. It's always the same expression that gets to him. That curious, confused face of Todd's that makes Neil's heartbeat a little faster.

Absolutely cruel, isn't it?

“That’s beautiful. Oh, Todd, that's beautiful,” Neil says, and he means it, he really does.

The blond boy’s lips pull into that shy smile, with a hint of relief, “Thank you. It's not finished yet. I want it to be longer. And I might change some words, because the writing is a little—”

Without hesitation, Neil wraps his arms around the shorter boy, and nearly throws them over again. He doesn't care. His arms tighten a little. “Apologies, sir. Critique isn't tolerated towards the poetry of my favourite poet on this planet,” Neil grins, like he's apologising to someone completely different, and his face nuzzles into the short strands of blond hair that tickle against his nose, “My favourite person on this planet. So, kindly, shut it.”

It takes a long, long while until Todd's arms finally wrap around him as well, and Neil doesn't mind. It's okay. He doesn't need—He doesn't need immediate responses, or loud words, or big actions. He needs Todd. He doesn't need anything else but that.

“Thank you,” Todd whispers into Neil's shoulder. 

A hum leaves the brunette’s lips, “Yeah. Of course.”

They stay like that for a while. It's somehow a bit similar to Christmas. They've grown closer, like every day the urge to be close to Todd grows, and grows, and grows. Until Neil is unable to keep his hands to himself. Not like that's not already the case. He just still has the willpower not to lean into every touch: Every accidental brush of fingers, or arms. Even just a nudge of their feet beneath a table. 

Neil is still able to resist all that. Though, he doesn't know how long that resistance will last. Especially with Todd so eager to return every touch of his. 

Oh, he's absolutely and utterly fucked, isn't he?

“We should get off the ice, you know?” Todd snorts, his voice a little muffled from Neil's coat. Quickly, the taller boy lets go with a laugh, and nods. Somehow, they do make it off the ice. Even though they could already be crawling with how low they sink into their knees to get to the docks. When they finally reach the wooden planks, Todd lets out a loud sigh of relief. “Please tell me we're never doing that again,” he mutters. Immediately, Neil gets an idea.

He rushes back towards the hill, and stumbles up. A grin is plastered on his lips, eager, and Todd stares after him in utter confusion. 

“Where are you going?!” he yells.

Neil shouts back with a grin, nearly falling over yet again, “I’m getting ice skates for us!”

~×~

Chapter Text

~×~

The day all the poets return, chaos washes through Helton. 

It's almost like a wave that crashes into the school, slowly, and then all at once. They greet each other with big smiles, and loud shouts of happiness. Arms are thrown over shoulders, poets are pulled into hugs, stories are told, and a specific teacher is bothered the entire afternoon. It doesn't seem like Keating minds. Not actually. He jokes about authority, and says he's not a young lad like them anymore. It's good, though, because Todd feels like he's living through the first good day at this school all again. 

That day when they threw their teacher into the lake like everything didn't matter. A lovely feeling. 

With everyone back, it feels alive again. The school is bright with colours and sounds, not that it wasn't when it was just him and Neil. It's just that the colour and sounds with Neil are softer: Like a whisper. A secret. Todd wishes he could keep that quiet sort of emotion with his friend. He wishes he could keep it all in the palms of his hands, and press it close to his chest until it inevitably fuses with his heart. An unrealistic wish, no doubt. After all, Neil would treat every poet the way he does Todd, right? There's nothing special. They're just roommates, so they spend more time together. 

That's it.

With a startling intensity, Todd snaps back into the reality of his current situation: The poets are yelling and laughing in a friendly set of bickering as Nuwanda insists he'd found his forbidden Christmas romance. With a snort, Todd shakes his head at the dramatics. Of course. Him and Neil are so alike. Always big actions, and big words, big grins. Both of them are such lovely people. Lovely boys with pretty eyes—Neil's are much prettier. Maybe Todd is biassed, though.

“And what was she like?” Cameron asks with an obvious disinterest as he leans back against the stonewall of the cave, arms crossed over his chest with that sarcastic expression that tells them he doesn't even want to know. Still Charlie doesn't hesitate to answer, because he's eager to share. 

He crouches down slightly as he stands there in the middle of them all, arms reached out as though he's struggling to keep balance, and then he makes a small jump upwards, letting out a yell of joy. “Oh, men, you have no clue!” he states dramatically, theatrically, and Todd thinks that maybe he should pick up acting too, “She had hair as red as fire, and her eyes. As green as the trees! She was summer in winter, and as we all know, I'm a ladies’ man, so she noticed me too.” 

“Who’s we?” Neil teases, making Charlie throw a pebble at him, grinning despite his efforts. 

It's almost unlike him to become so joyous about a girl. Usually, at least that's what Todd knows from Meeks, Charlie doesn't care for girls. Sure, he likes them, he finds them attractive, as would any normal boy their age, but he doesn't get noticeably excited about them. Therefore, maybe this one actually did pull at one of his claimed iron heartstrings. Todd doubts it. He's probably just trying to make his break sound exciting. 

“So what happened then?” Meeks asks, raising an eyebrow as he fixes his glasses, and smiles teasingly, “Did she dump you after she found out that you still suck your thumb?”

The poets erupt into another set of laughter, even Todd. His usually quiet voice sometimes echoes through the cave in excited snorts and giggles nowadays, and he finds it to be absolutely freeing. Like he's less afraid, and that's good, right? It's good. He's so… So himself around these guys. They're his family—he’s decided that on that day in the theatre, as he saw Neil on that stage, and heard the roaring cheers from all the other poets. They didn't even like the play itself, they were just happy for their friend. 

And what is that if not pure, unapologetic love? 

They wrap the night up when the sky turns a little lighter, and they all realise they'll be stupidly tired now that they haven't slept. It's worth it, though. Todd thinks that they all needed this evening—night. They haven't seen each other for a while, so catching up is just natural. Especially because the poets are so curious about what Todd and Neil have been up to here, and Todd tries not to let his face flush a deep red colour when Neil openly and shamelessly tells them about everything. 

While the boys walk back to the building, kind of frozen from the cold, and yawning with exhaustion, Todd feels eyes on him. 

As soon as he tries to catch the culprit's stare, turning his head in a quick fashion, it's not who he expects it to be. Usually Neil stares at him, for whatever reason, but the brunette is busy talking to Knox. No, the one looking at him is Charlie, a few metres behind him, gaze flicking from him to Neil, and back. 

Oh, God help him. 

Todd knows immediately. The second he meets Charlie's gaze, he realises just what has happened. It was inevitable, with how nervous he is, wasn't it? That the other finds out; sees right through him. And maybe Todd thought that he was a lot less obvious about it than he really was, because clearly he was very obvious. It's not his fault. It's not his fault, because Neil is just so—so, so. And how is that his fault?

Quickly, he whips his head back around, fidgeting with the hem of his coat, and walking a little faster. 

The entire dilemma ends with Todd avoiding Charlie. How could he not? After all, the blond boy couldn't quite place the other's expression, and it's so terrifying. Neil has been Charlie's best friend since forever, right? Why wouldn't he tell him? Todd wants to cry just from the thought alone. 

If Neil finds out that there's been something growing in the darkest depths of Todd's heart, then maybe it’s  time for hell to come get him. 

“Earth to Todd?” A voice says, and the blond boy flinches out of his thoughts, turning his head on the mattress to see Neil right beside his bed, crouching there, staring at him. Far too close. And so Todd flinches again, this time away from the other, eyes a bit wide, and lips parted as he drops his biology book right onto his stomach. A hiss leaves his lips as the corner of it pushes into his flesh before dropping off of him. 

Neil starts laughing, looking at Todd with a mixture of surprise and confusion, and—

God, he's embarrassing.

“Sorry, hm? What?” the blond asks quietly, rubbing the pained spot on his stomach with a bit of a frown, sitting up so he can grab the book again.

A hum is all Neil gives for a moment, still snorting and chuckling, the utter idiot. So mean. “I asked you if you wanted to come to the study group today,” the boy repeats, and Todd doesn't look at him, because somehow it always gets worse when he does, and he can't say no. 

“Ah, well,” Todd starts, “I wanted to talk to Keating.”

It's not an excuse, surprisingly. He really doesn't mind the study group, because despite his first worries, the poets actually do study there. But Charlie's there. And, besides, they usually do it in Charlie's room, and it’s so tiny, and Neil always pulls him into the corner of one of the beds, and they're so close that Todd ends up not studying at all. First he thought it was just because of how awkward it felt, but now he knows just how much worse the truth is. 

Luckily, Neil doesn't seem too disappointed, or sceptical. Just a little worried. “Keating? Why?” the brunette asks, tilting his head, and Todd doesn't know how he's ever survived a single conversation with him.

“It’s just… Well—It’s English. The poem we have to write, so,” he lies, and his voice is so unsure that he wants to claw at his throat. Why can't he be good at something, even if it's something as cruel as lying? He doesn't get it. A hum leaves Neil, and the taller boy stands up from the ground, grabbing his books. He knows, doesn't he? Todd feels so bad, because he can't lie well enough to make his friend believe him, but is too much of a coward to tell him the truth. Now they're stuck in this state of lies that Neil knows are lies, but doesn't know the truths of. 

Todd is a bad friend.

“Goodnight then, in case you're asleep when I get back,” Neil hums, turning around one last time to give him a smile before he leaves. There's not even a chance for the blond boy to say goodnight back, and somehow that makes him sad. 

The way to Keating's office is a devastatingly long one. He's been there a few times now, sometimes just because of the other poets, but often because of something else. Something more dire. Todd knows the way by heart, and when he sees the familiar door, he stops in front of it, teeth cruelly biting down on the sensitive muscle of his tongue. Sometimes he bites it so hard that he cuts it open, and eating hurts, like the first time Keating asked him to read his poem in class. 

Suddenly, Todd realises he hasn't knocked yet, but just as he raises his fist to do so, the door opens. 

He blinks at the face of his English teacher, who smiles at him with no hint of surprise. Huh? The blond boy stares for a moment before furrowing his eyebrow slightly, lips parted with no words to leave them. 

“Todd, my boy. Come in. I swear I could hear your worries through the door,” the teacher teases, gently placing a hand on the student's shoulder, and leading him into the room. It's less an office and more a mess of sleep and work, something Keating doesn't deserve. He deserves something nicer. Yet the room he has now fits him so well. “I’m sorry for coming so late again,” Todd hums as he sits down on the chair next to his teacher's desk, hands folded in his lap as he stares down at them, fingers picking at his own skin.

It doesn't seem like Keating feels bothered at all, sitting down on his own chair with a sigh of relief, like he's been standing the entire time. Why would he be standing when he has chairs and a bed? Perspectives, Todd's brain offers, not quite unhelpfully. 

“So? What is it that's bringing you here?” the teacher questions, pouring already made tea into two cups, and nudging one over into Todd's reach.

The boy smiles slightly, grabbing the tea cup, unknowing, at first, of the fact that his hands stop fidgeting. A magical trick, he notices later on, that Keating seems to use very consciously. “I, well—I’m not sure if—if it's an appropriate thing to ask you about,” Todd says, smile fading far quicker than expected, and he takes a sip of the hot tea just to soothe his nervous throat. When he swallows the hot liquid, it ends up burning his tongue, but he only gives a small whimper before ignoring the pain.

Keating isn't saying anything, watching with a silent kindness as he waits for Todd to elaborate, to state his worries, as he's asked. 

“It’s…I don't know if it is, actually, but I have a feeling that—and I'm not sure how to—how to explain it,” Todd stammers, looking down at the tea, glad that it's a bit too dark for him to see his reflection in the golden brew, “It’s—It’s Neil. And it's wrong, because I already know that, but I just—I don't know what to—what to do.” 

It's a bad explanation. A terrible one, even. None of his words make sense, and he stumbles over his own tongue again and again. Maybe that's its revenge for Todd constantly biting down on it. Still, it doesn't seem like any of it matters, because Keating's smile softens when the boy looks up. It softens so much, in fact, that Todd can't even assume it's pity in the man's expression. Something else, perhaps. Something kind. Not judgement, or ridicule. There's almost something like understanding behind the man's kind eyes. Todd drinks another sip of his tea, and this time his tongue doesn't burn. The heat is rather soothing instead. 

A long hum leaves the teacher, something thoughtful. Keating seems to try and find the words to say, hand reaching over his desk to pull out the photograph of a woman. His wife, Todd assumes. “Yes, love is not quite unlike a puzzle,” Keating hums, “always trying your best to find the missing piece.”

A puzzle.

“You know, Todd. Not unlike puzzles, love comes in many shapes and forms. Different pictures, different colours. The puzzle pieces vary quite a lot too, don't they?” Keating hums, and he gently strokes the photograph of his wife, smiling so gently that it makes the blond boy sick to the stomach with envy, “My puzzle, for example, used to be complete. When I went to school here. A friend of mine, who later on died tragically. It caused that certain spot in my puzzle, which he filled, to be empty once more. And then I met my wife.”

For a moment, Todd just stares at his teacher. Even though spoken in a metaphor, he's sure he's never understood something faster in his entire life. A complete puzzle, a friend in an all boys school. How could he not understand? 

“You—Really?” he asks, voice breaking into something quiet, and small. 

The teacher chuckles, nodding. He gently places a hand on the student's shoulder, always so kind, and his head tilts. “Do you think that happiness should be forbidden, Todd?” Keating asks, and when the boy shakes his head, the man hums, “Then why do you feel guilty for being happy?” 

Those words cause something to sink in Todd's stomach, and his eyes widen slightly. All his life, he's listened to the opinions of others. A boy should love a girl. A man should marry a woman. Things like that. He's been so—so obedient. He's tried so hard, but he just can't. He can't, and Neil is making it so much harder to try and look away. But maybe, Todd realises, maybe he doesn't have to feel guilty. Maybe he's allowed. 

The boy doesn't realise that he's crying until Keating chuckles, and kindly hands him a tissue. Only then he feels the wet trails of tears on his cheek, and blinks confusedly at the quivering of his lips. He really does cry a lot, doesn't he?

“Could I help you, my boy?” Keating asks.

Todd takes a deep breath, a moment of preparation before he wraps his arms around his teacher. The only form of gratitude he can show without breaking back into tears. 

Luckily, Keating doesn't seem to mind. Gentle arms wrap around Todd, and he's swayed from side to side soothingly. And—And something in the blond boy's heart breaks, because he's never been held like this. Almost like he's a little kid, like he's being soothed by his parents after hurting himself, and God. 

Todd owes Mr. Keating everything. 

After he calms down, they both finish their tea in silence. A comfortable quietness that Todd appreciates beyond comprehension. Though, it doesn't stay silent for long, because despite all his kindness, Keating remains his playful, pushing self.

“Do you want to tell me what you love about Neil?” the man asks, and honestly, Todd feels his face flush a deep red colour.

Tell him? Tell someone? He can't even think about it properly without being embarrassed. Then again, he trusts Keating. So much. He trusts him more than he trusts his own parents, and he adores the man just as much as he does his friends. And maybe, just maybe, talking about it will help. It might make him feel less guilty, because of how lovable Neil is. If he gets into all the little details he appreciates, then maybe he'll feel less horrible about it. The realisation he's come to is easy: Loving Neil isn't wrong. Even if it's hopeless, and maybe Todd will never experience being loved in return. He's so happy that he loves someone like Neil Perry.

“Yes,” he says, “if you don't mind.”

The teacher grins gently, shaking his head, and pouring them more tea, because this will be a long evening. 

When Todd starts, slow and unsure, he finds that he can't stop. Talking about Neil is so easy, just as loving him is. He speaks about his smile, his voice, and his acting. The way Neil sometimes tilts his head when he's impatient. Of course he talks about the moles Todd sees when he stares too long, and the length of Neil's eyelashes touching his barely-there freckles when he sleeps. The way his eyes turn almost a little golden when the light hits him just right, and how his lips part when he's thinking. 

It goes on for a couple of hours. Keating doesn't interrupt him, and only smiles as he listens. Todd is so thankful for it. 

He leaves the man's room with a lightness in his body that feels a little unreal, and he thanks Keating again and again and again. It's absolutely lovely how he's realised so many good things in one evening. Even though he's tired now, and he'll be tired tomorrow, it doesn't matter. Having the opportunity to talk about Neil, to tell someone just how lovely it is, is worth losing sleep over.

And so he enters his room quietly, because the light is off, and he never knows if Neil is actually asleep before he lays down. He sits down on his bed, and hesitates for a moment before tugging off his shirt, and putting on his sleeping one. 

Neil is awake. The boy is staring at the ceiling with his beautiful brown eyes that look black in the darkness of their room. He only looks at Todd when the shorter boy is laying down, blanket pulled up to his chin, and eyes fixed on the familiar spot of his wall where the wallpaper is a little chipped off. “You talked to Keating a long time,” Neil hums, and somehow it doesn't sound accusative, or judgemental. Just a little disappointed. Todd gives a shrug, even though he knows that the other probably only hears the rustle of movements, and doesn't see the gesture. Though, when he glances over at his friend, Neil is already looking at him, and Todd forgets how to speak for the break or a second.

“Yeah, I,” he starts, cutting himself off to smile slightly and turn his head, “We ended up talking a little more. We drank some tea. Keating is amazing, isn't he?” 

Neil hums, “Yes. Very amazing.”

When Todd closes his eyes to sleep, he still feels a gaze on him. In the end, his dreams are haunted by brown eyes, and a soft, boyish smile. And, well. That's that, right? 

~×~

Chapter Text

~×~

It's probably in the middle of the night—or perhaps even later—when Neil awakes with a gasp. His forehead is damp with sweat, and he blinks up at the dark ceiling of his dorm with wide eyes, and a heaving chest.

Ever since the night his father took him home without a word, he's been having these—these dreams. Of what he would've done if Todd hadn't been there. It's a scary dream, and it always ends the same way. With his body limp on the floor of his father's study, and his mother screaming in disbelief at the sight of him. Even his father sheds tears in this dream, which makes Neil feel…Strange. Thinking about the man finally showing his emotions, but only after his son's death. How cruel can a human be? 

Whenever he has these dreams, Neil does something that calms him down.

He turns around, shifting to lay on his side. First, his gaze drifts over to the window. It's closed, even though spring is beginning gradually. The temperatures are still very low, which is why the radiator is pumping heat into the room—luckily it's not going too crazy tonight, because Neil already feels overheated from his dream. When his eyes finally find the other bed, his body instinctively relaxes into his mattress. The sight of Todd, asleep and there, makes everything a little better. 

From here, Neil can see the way his chest rises and falls softly, evenly, with every breath. Or the way his eyebrows furrow slightly every now and then, like he's having a strange dream. It makes the brunette feel content, seeing him here, next to him. Although not close enough. Shit. Neil closes his eyes. He isn't quite sure what these intrusive thoughts are, or when exactly they've started, but he's been noticing them. More and more. Like they're spreading through his mind. 

Perhaps it has to do with how much Todd has helped him. Or how much time they spend with each other recently. Maybe it has to do with that week before Christmas. Neil has not the faintest clue. The only thing he knows is that his mind is telling him to hold Todd close, and to touch him, and to watch him, and to kiss him. 

Scandalous little actions he's not allowed to go after. Things Neil isn't allowed to wish for. At least, he doesn't think he is.

When his eyes open again, he finds Todd in the same position as seconds before: Laying on his back, with one leg angled, and the other one stretched out, hands messily thrown over his head. It's adorable . Neil shouldn't think that, but it is. Everyone would agree, surely. If not, he'd declare them blind, no doubt. He often thinks so too when he catches himself calling Todd pretty in his mind, or often he also uses the word beautiful. It's all objective. That's what he tells himself, at least; everyone would simply agree, if he asked them.

Neil sits up to cool himself off, but he can't bring himself to look away from the blond boy. His lips are a little parted, and his teeth are showing. The way his pretty eyelashes flutter from time to time means that he's dreaming, probably of something puzzling, considering the way his eyebrows draw together in irritated confusion. 

“Todd?” he asks before he can stop himself. The blond does not answer. He’s asleep.

Slowly, Neil stands up, and he swallows as his legs take an unsure step towards Todd's bed. “Todd?” he asks again, cautious. “Todd, are you awake?”

Nothing seems to stir the other boy, and so Neil crouches down next to the other bed, feeling like he's doing something awfully forbidden. He can now see Todd's eyelashes a little better, and the way his lips move just the tiniest amount. It seems like he's also talking in his dream. “Cute,” Neil whispers, and he smiles gently. One of his hands reaches out, slowly, and he drags his knuckles down Todd's cheek softly, stroking the soft skin there. He's warm. 

A horrible, horrible urge overcomes Neil. A dark, cruel thing inside of him that tells him to kiss Todd. To kiss him while he can't be disgusted by it. Neil's eyebrows furrow, and he takes his hand away, swallowing harder. As if that makes the urge go away.

It doesn't.

Suddenly, Todd shifts, head turning, and body moving. It surprises Neil so much that he stumbles backwards, and falls to the floor, back hitting harshly against the frame of his own bed. He hisses in pain, flinching with it. “God, ow,” he whispers, not only the pain, but also the guilt washing through him like a violent wave. 

He wonders. He wonders if he would've done it. Neil fears he would've. That if Todd hadn't moved, perhaps he'd have leaned over and—

No. No, he couldn't have done it.

That would've been wrong, and as much as he wants to, he would never want to force something like that on Todd. He's greedy, but he's not that selfish. 

Just as Neil stands up, head low, and jaw tight, a voice speaks. 

“Mh, what happened?” Todd asks, quiet, and drowsy, obviously half asleep. Though, the blond boy sits up, rubbing his eyes in a manner that makes Neil quickly avert his gaze once more, because his thoughts ring with adjectives that drive him completely insane. “Nothing, sorry. You can go back to sleep. I just fell off my bed,” the brunette lies with a sigh, ruffling his own hair a little as he settles back on his mattress, stretching his arms.

A chuckle escapes Todd, and he glances over at Neil, meeting the taller boy's eyes. 

It makes everything inside him burn.

“How did you fall off your bed?” Todd asks, clearly amused by the mere image of it—someone like his friend tumbling off the bed with a yelp in the middle of the night.

Neil rolls his eyes, grinning as he lays back down. “Don’t bully me now.”

“I am not!”

“Uh huh, you are. You're a bully, Todd.”

The blond boy laughs, trying to keep quiet, and it's the most beautiful sound Neil has ever heard. “Just go back to sleep, Shakespeare. So dramatic.”

And just like that, softly, they both go back to sleep. Neil hates himself.

In the morning, the sun is actually shining. Everything is still damp from the melted snow, and the air smells like flowers. Spring is here.

Somehow, it's like an announcement. Usually the seasons change gradually, softly, almost without notice. This time, however, it seems that they change like how water changes its colour with a tea bag dipped into it. A colourful swirl that paints the most beautiful pictures within seconds, changing so rapidly, but beautifully, that it leaves one a little speechless. Neil feels much the same. At least emotionally. A colourful swirl that changes so rapidly that he can't follow. The worst thing is that he can't identify the colours anymore. It started with light browns, and gentle oranges. Now there's bright pinks, soft reds, and deep blues—like Todd's eyes.

“Earth to Neil,” Charlie says, tapping his pencil against the other's hand, and grinning. “Where are your thoughts wandering off to?” 

Pitts leans in from the side, making an obnoxiously silly face, like he's uncovering a scandal. “A girl?” God, Neil wishes. But then again, does he? Maybe not. No, definitely not. Girls can be beautiful, everyone can be, he thinks, but not—not like Todd.  

Charlie lets out a startled laugh, confused. “Look at him. He's gone, completely gone,” he says in disbelief. “Oh, not another one. We're losing them all to the disease of love!”

“Shut up.” Neil sighs, smiling in amusement. Finally he finds his voice to speak again. His gaze lifts to look over at Todd, who sits a bit further down at the table, while Charlie and Pitts continue teasing him. The blond boy is already looking his way. Though, he glances away nervously when Neil meets his gaze, and it makes the brunette frown. “Thus far, I do not count myself as lovesick, but this guy clea—Neil? Where are you going?” Charlie asks, eyebrows furrowing as he watches the tall boy rise from his seat, and sit down next to Todd. For a moment, no one speaks, even though Neil watches Charlie make an amused face at his worksheet as Meeks lets out a snort. The audacity, really. 

Todd is probably the most confused. He does that thing: The thing where he glances up, and down, and up again, eyes a little wide, and hand fidgeting. Like he's unsure what to do with himself beneath the attention of Neil's gaze. 

“You’re avoiding me,” he says, and Todd looks at him all wide eyed, lips parted. Definitely Neil's favourite expression of the boy. So honest-to-god caught off guard. 

The blond lets out a noise, a bit like a gurgle of words tripping over themselves at the confusion. “I am?” he asks. Neil nods, smiling, and tilting his head as he leans over the table. When he closes in on Todd, the shorter boy sinks back. Embarrassed. Or, perhaps, flustered. “See,” Neil says proudly, proving his point very clearly, “you’re avoiding me.”

“That’s not it at all.” 

“Is it not?” Neil asks, snorting, and sitting back once more. “What’s it then?” 

Despite the amusement around them, Todd and Neil aren't amused. Especially Neil, who surprisingly isn't very thrilled about talking to his friend. It's just that, well, it's obvious, isn't it? Maybe Todd found out what Neil was going to do last night. Read his thoughts, God forbid. It's an image the brunette doesn't even want to consider—his roommate knowing just what kinds of things he thinks about him. However, it doesn't seem like Todd is angry, or disgusted. So Neil doesn't know what's going on. Is he supposed to apologise for something he's no idea of? Luckily, it seems that Todd snaps him out of his thoughts with an answer to his question.

The answer in question isn't exactly what Neil expects. A soft wave of reddish colour washes over Todd's features, especially his nose, and his eyes flutter shut. “Just—I've been feeling weird recently. I'm sorry.” He sighs, voice quiet, and careful as he talks, like it's a secret. 

“What do you mean weird ?” Neil asks, lips quirking in confusion, and head tilting. “Are you sick?”

It's definitely the wrong response to Todd's words, because the blond boy scrunches up his face in frustration, which makes Neil feel terribly guilty. God, he has no idea what he's doing, really. “I just don't like it when you sit three seats away from me, and leave the dorm before me in the morning,” the brunette decides. “And you haven't even talked to me since breakfast!”

That's probably the turning point for the other poets, who've been rather amused before. Now, their eyebrows are furrowed in worry, glancing at and eyeing each other like they're trying to hold a conversation about the obvious tension in the room. It's not like Neil is angry at Todd. Quite the opposite, really. He's not even frustrated at all. Before the conversation, he didn't even think it was such a big deal. It’s just—his roommate is so defensive about it too, and they can tell each other everything. Not that Neil quite follows that rule, but he pushes that thought as far back into his brain as he can manage. 

“Guys, we’ll get in trouble, so tone it down,” Cameron states, unhelpfully. The back of his head is immediately met with the punishing slap of a pencil, Charlie shooting him an unimpressed look. 

At this point, Todd seems unsure of what to do. He's quiet; simply staring at Neil without a word. This time it isn't an expression of shock, or disbelief, but rather one of focus. Like he's trying to understand what Neil is upset about. The brunette, on the other hand, is doing quite the same. Because surely feeling weird isn't the best excuse Todd can come up with. Unfortunately, it seems that neither of them continue the conversation. Or, at least, the blond lowers his gaze, furrows his eyebrows, and bites his tongue without a word. In turn, Neil lets out a sigh, and scoffs in faux amusement. Now he's a little angry. 

Charlie whistles, raising his eyebrows as he looks back down at the book he's been ‘working’ in. “Mom and Dad are fighting,” he whispers. Meeks sends him a look. 

When, in the evening, Neil returns to his room after a long study session with only Charlie and Knox—hell, in other words—, he finds Todd sitting on his bed, with a piece of paper in his hand. Unlike usually, when the taller boy would simply steal it to peek, he sits down on his own bed, and makes a vague motion with his head.

“What’s that?”

Todd pauses. “A… Letter.”

It's silent, and Neil decides that he's had enough for today. As much as he adores chasing the blond to his limits, it's clear that he's not so fond of it himself, and the brunette is fine with that. No prying, then. No annoying, obnoxious, unending yapping from Neil's side. God, maybe he really is annoying. He's been talking so much to Todd about his interests. About acting, and the Dead Poets Society. Maybe…

“It’s from my brother.” Neil’s thoughts stop at those words, and his gaze flicks up to find Todd fidgeting with the letter. Oh. Oh, okay. So, maybe they're not doing that. 

Instead of immediately responding, the brunette waits for a moment. He nods, and stands up from his bed to settle on the one across from it. Todd scoots away to make room. It feels awkward, strained. Neil doesn't like it one bit. “Is that a good thing?” he asks, curious. It should be. Then again, he knows that his friend isn't too fond of his family, considering the things that had happened during his birthday. Now that Neil thinks about it, he never asked about it. He usually pries, but he's never pried about that. Maybe because he knew that Todd wouldn't want to talk about it, just like how Neil wouldn't have talked about his father if Todd hadn't been just there every time. 

In response to the question, the blond shrugs. It's a vague response, and it gives Neil a good idea about what the actual one could be. No. A simple thing, yet held back by guilt. He knows what that's like. Well. “What’s it say?” he asks instead, because prying will only make it worse, he figures, and he can do it later. For now, maybe it's best to stay here instead of wandering off into the past. 

“Uh, it’s,” Todd starts, “just the normal things. He's asking how I am, and stuff. Said he couldn't call, because the phones at his University aren’t working.”

“Oh, okay,” Neil says, dumbly. 

What is he to say about such things anyway? He's an only child. Having an older brother is a strange concept to him, even though he can strangely see how well it fits Todd. Or, rather, how much it has had an effect on him. He's heard that younger siblings tend to be shy if their older counterparts are more successful, or more extroverted. That seems to be the case here, and somehow Neil thinks it's sweet. He shouldn't, he knows. Considering Todd isn't happy about it. Still. “Will you reply?” Neil asks. It's the first question he could think to ask that doesn't have to do with the more meaningful things. Those things that would make Todd shut down again. He doesn't want that; he doesn't want to be locked out by the other, he wants to help.

Again, Todd gives a small shrug, and a vague sound in the back of his throat that is barely audible. Neil nods. 

“Can I read it?” he asks, because he's nosy, and also because he thinks that perhaps he could help his friend this way. “Only if you're okay with it.”

Before Neil can process whether or not Todd's hum was a yes or no, the piece of paper is placed into his lap, and the blond boy turns his head away. The letter is quite old-school. Handwritten, with the writing of a messy hand. It reminds Neil nothing of Todd's, which is messily neat in a gentle way. 

~~~

Dear Todd,

I know how this must look, but I promise I haven't been avoiding any calls. The phones in my University don't work, so I'm limited to this. I would've written earlier, I swear, it's just been very busy.

I hope you like your new school as much as I liked it. Not the classes or teachers, per se, but perhaps the students and rooms. During my time at Welton, I found a small group of friends, and I honestly hope you've found your own people as well.

I'm not sure if Mother and Father have talked to you at all, but they're well too. I'm sorry about your birthday. Next year I'll be there to celebrate it with you, I'm sure. Get you that bike I promised you. 

I'd be really happy to hear from you, and all of your experiences until now. Feel free to rant about it all to me. 

Before I forget, I'll be visiting during Easter. Just for a day or two, but I'll be in town, so I thought I might as well say hello to you, little brother. Have fun, and work hard. 

Love,

your brother Jeffrey 

~~~

For a moment or two, Neil isn't quite sure what to say. He didn't expect such a sweet letter. From his own experiences with his father, he's used to older men being quite cold, and distant, and he thought that it would be much the same with older brothers. However, he must've been mistaken. As he scans the words again, he hears a sigh from his right, and his gaze snaps over to Todd's face. He looks… Conflicted. Guilty, almost. 

“You think I'm rude,” he whispers. 

Neil shakes his head, slowly. “Why would I?”

A pale hand moves to take the letter from the brunette, and he watches the piece of paper being folded back into its original shape before it's quickly put back into the envelope. “My brother is a good person,” Todd says, quietly, “and you think I'm rude for not being happy about it, right?”

This kind of stuns Neil silent. 

How tragic to think one is a bad person, because one's unhappiness is accused of ungratefulness. 

“No. No, I don't think that. I don't,” Neil says quite quickly, because he really doesn't. It makes sense to him in some way, that Todd feels uncomfortable about this. About his brother. It's not easy for him generally, and if the blond is simply unhappy with his family, then that's that. There's no excusing it, no changing it, and especially no downplaying it.

It seems that Todd is quite surprised by that response, because he turns to look at his roommate with furrowed eyebrows, and parted lips. That’s the expression he adores so much. Focus. “I think that—You know, if you're angry with your brother, or don't feel that close to him, then you shouldn't have to act like it, right?” Neil says, unsure. “It’s not like just taking it, and acting like everything is okay does any good. Trust me… I know.”

“You do,” Todd whispers, and his gaze turns soft in a way. Gentle. 

Perhaps that's one of the reasons why they work. Why being this close just works for them. They simply understand each other. Understand how hard surrendering is really. It's like they exist in this tragedy together, so they can pull themselves out of it. Together. 

“Even if your brother will visit, and even if it's going to be uncomfortable,” Neil says, quietly, “I'll be here with you.”

Saying those words feels slightly unreal. Like admitting them is wrong, like promising he'll always be here is just a single word away, and it's so much more true. When Todd's lips pull into a smile, and he nods, looking back at the envelope, it's like a switch clicks in Neil's brain. Every thought he's ever had about his friend plays in the short span of a second, and he lets out a soft breath. 

He loves Todd.  

Chapter Text

~×~

The change in weather is almost comical. It all goes from stormy nights to calm days, and immediately over to sunshine. Maybe not frequently, but a lot more so than in all of January and February. 

Spring is terrifying to Neil. It means that their school year ends soon, and he's still not sure just what he wants to achieve after his last year. Of course he has ideas , but none of them seem very realistic compared to those of his friends. At least Meeks, Pitts, and Overstreet already have plans. Many boys in their school are already set on a University, and Neil sits here in the cave with his only plans being acting. Not that his father would be very fond to hear about that. He'll need a good job, since his family would despise him if he didn't get one. Then again, he's pretty sure he'll be able to do whatever he wants once he's an adult. Hopefully, anyway.

“Charlie, stop hogging the matches,” Neil says, reaching out his hand. This time the guy had somehow gotten his hands on cigarettes. A lighter, though? Even Charlie's too smart to actually steal one from his family. 

As Neil lights his match, and holds it to the tip of his cigarette, he sees something move in the corner of his vision. Everything is pretty quiet tonight, and they gave up on reading much poetry, with all of them tired from tests they've written recently. So, they settled on hanging out, relaxing, talking in hushed conversations—much different to their usual atmosphere. As always, Neil sits in the far corner of the cave, and with him, Todd. Who, much to the brunette's surprise, is leaning a lot closer, cigarette held between his lips. Neil swallows. “You aren't even going to ask?” he says, amused. Though, even as Todd seems to rethink his choice, and goes to remove the cigarette from his mouth, the taller boy quickly grabs his wrist. 

“I’m joking. Here,” he whispers, raising the lit match up to light Todd's cigarette.

When it starts to glow steadily, Neil watches it. The way it's sitting between the other's lips is driving him a little insane, so he quickly turns his head, and lets go of Todd's arm. God have mercy. Honestly. Ever since he's realised that his thoughts haven't been so platonic towards Todd, all he can focus on is Todd. The boy has become so much more interesting than anything, sometimes the actor can't even focus on practising his lines anymore. 

The worst thing about it all? 

Neil glances over at Charlie, who looks right back at him with a smirk before turning away. 

Charlie knows.

So does Steven, probably. At least, Neil has seen them both snicker at the obvious panic that seeps through him whenever Todd comes just a little too close. Like right now, when the blond boy's leg is pressed quite tightly against his. It's torture and heaven all at the same time. His leg feels a little like it's numb, tingling. Maybe he's overreacting, but he can't help it—can't control it at all. The fact that Todd has become so much more comfortable with him has turned into a disadvantage somehow. Not that Neil dislikes it, he's just—well, he's not quite sure how to deal with it, frankly. 

The cave, even in March, is quite cool, and it's almost the perfect temperature. Not too warm, and not too cold, just that soft middle that makes it bearable. With the air smelling like smoke, and cologne—Charlie and Knox, no doubt—it’s a bit like a fever dream. Neil hasn't regretted this even one singular day. He hasn't had a thought of regret once after refounding the Dead Poets. 

Even if they stop talking after school, which he desperately hopes not, and even when they forget about Poetry altogether, which he doubts; they will always carry a part of this in themselves. At least, Neil will, and he's pretty sure that Todd will too. It's a little hard to explain—the way Poetry has affected him, the way Keating has affected him. It feels like friendly poison; a dizzying intoxication of inspiration that leaves Neil breathless, and excited. At the edge of his seat. There's this buzzing in him that won't go away, the endless urge to create, to speak, to recite. Like a mantra being chanted over, and over, and over again right into his ear. Love, read, act, sing.  

To anyone who hasn't experienced it, perhaps he seems silly. Like a boy who's no clue what to do with his life other than spout nonsense.

However, it's so much more than that.

To him, Poetry is so much more than just poetry. It's his new way of living, his new way of thinking, which feels like a rebirth in itself. Neil feels like he's found himself— found his purpose . And isn't that just a beautiful thing?

“Perry,” Meeks calls out, catching the brunette's attention. “What are you doing after graduation next year?” 

It's a little funny how much he's dreaded this question, how often he's thought about how to word the sentence “I have no clue” in a way that makes it socially acceptable. An awkward chuckle leaves his lips, and he tugs the cigarette out of his mouth. For a moment, he simply shrugs, glancing over at Todd, who's curiously watching him through the blond bangs that have grown quite long. “Honestly, I'm not too sure. I might go to University, and act on the side,” he says slowly. “Not sure what to study, though.”

Neil almost surprises himself with his words, because they make him sound a lot more grounded than he actually feels—a lot more grown-up than he intends to be. It's not like he has to decide now. After all, he still has next year; he will turn eighteen, and graduate, and then he'll have to worry about himself. Still, everyone already knows, and some guys his age already have somewhere to go. It feels like he's being pressured into deciding.

“Ah, I don't know either,” says a soft voice next to him, and Neil forgets his worries. It's Todd speaking. “We—We still have time, so. I'll probably go to University too, though.” 

Almost involuntarily, Neil smiles at his friend, because he knows very well that he didn't only say that to share the information. So, even as a conversation breaks loose, and the other boys talk about all their plans, wishes, and desires, the brunette’s eyes stay focused on Todd. Again, he swears he has no control over it whatsoever. It's not his fault that the blond boy looks so much softer like this, and he's still wearing the necklace Neil chose for him, and he can't stop thinking about how pretty it looks on him. He's mourned the loss of Todd in the scarf ever since he's stopped wearing it due to the temperature change. 

Though, he still catches him write into the notebook, using the pen, and—God, Neil is absolutely fucked. He's not sure that he finds it funny anymore. 

The sweetest, gentlest thing of all of them, though, is that Todd didn't throw away the note, or stuffed it into a drawer. No, he treasures that stupid, little piece of paper with Neil's ugly handwriting like it's his lifeline; it hangs just above his headboard, and sometimes, sometimes, Neil catches him staring at it.

As they gradually become silent, and the sky brightens as the stars disappear, Steven and Charlie are first ones to leave—closely followed by Gerard. 

It doesn't take too long until the last one, Knox, says his goodbyes, puts out his cigarette, and leaves the cave. Only Neil and Todd stay behind. They sit in silence as the first, soft light peeks into the cave that isn't from a flashlight. While Todd's cigarette is still glowing gently, Neil's is almost completely gone. A little funny, considering they were lit at practically the same time. Perhaps it's because he couldn't help inhaling just a little harder every time they talked about something he didn't enjoy, or his roommate's leg pressed a little more into Neil's. Just as it is now. Todd's leg is nearly pressed completely into his thigh, from knee to ankle. It's only now that the brunette realises his friend is looking at him, and he turns his head enough to look back at him with a smile.

Even now, when nothing is happening, and everything is quiet, Neil can't help but think that he adores moments with Todd. Not in the same way that he adores moments with Dalton, or Pitts. It's a softer kind of adoration; admiration, perhaps. The kind that leaves Neil breathless not like he's being choked, but like he's overwhelmed by just how much oxygen is being pumped into his lungs—like a car ride with the window all the way down.

“Do you want to go back?” he asks, curiously. It's not a suggestion, because personally, he doesn't. Everything is too nice right now.

For a moment, Todd just looks at him. It's the same expression he always has when they look at each other in their room; it's kind of soft, but a little worried. The way someone looks at a precious memory they want to hold onto—the thought makes Neil giddy. However, as soon as he thinks this, Todd glances away. His hands fidget again, this time by tugging the cigarette out of his mouth, and passing it to his other hand over, and over again. “I don't know,” he says, before quietly adding, “not really.” 

Neil smiles, because he can't help it. His back rests against the cave wall, and he closes his eyes; he's met with an eigengrau that has splashes of blue. A blue that is suspiciously close to Todd's eye colour. 

“Me neither. I like it here, with you.” The words are out of his mouth before he can think, and Neil doesn't regret it. Obviously it's the truth, and as much as he tries not to let his love for Todd overflow and break out, he can't fully contain it. Not when it's like this. His eyes open, and he's met with a pretty, pretty sight: Todd's head is turned away slightly, blond bangs hiding his eyes from view, but his darling lips are curled into a tiny smile. It makes Neil want to grab him, and pull him close, and he puts out his cigarette to stop himself from doing so.

With a slightly bigger, excited smile, Neil nudges his leg against Todd's. It's a mistake, because now the other's knee is laying over his, and— Seriously. “Hey, what are you doing over the summer?” he asks, curious. 

“Hm?” Todd responds, finally turning his head, but still toying with the cigarette in his hands. “Oh, I don't know. My family never goes on any trips, so I'll most likely be home, study. Such things.”

Neil nods. “So…”

“So?” Todd asks, a bit amused. His gaze is playful now, almost, and he's looking at Neil with that confused little smile that's so nice to look at. 

With a tilt of his head, the brunette steals the cigarette from his roommate's fingers, and holds it out of reach. At first, the blond doesn't react, but then he lets out a snort, and reaches for it. This makes Neil grin, brightly, like he's won. Because he switches hands just as Todd moves over entirely, and he catches the other in a headlock, leaning down to speak. “So, spend the summer with me, Todd Anderson,” he says in a happy voice, arm tight around the blond boy's neck.

The cigarette is long forgotten, tossed to the side, and boring. Because right now, he has a laughing, struggling Todd in his arms, draped over his lap, and it makes Neil feel ecstatic.

“ What? Hey— Neil; cut it out!” the poor boy chuckles, holding onto the arm that's keeping him, and pulling at it slightly. Not enough to actually move it away. It's almost a little like he's not even trying, and that, too, makes the brunette feel giddy. 

With a playful tut, Neil wiggles his friend around. “Answer me first!” he demands with a laugh, and it's met by the blond’s yelp as they nearly topple forward. Luckily, Neil manages to keep them on the small stone ledge they've been sitting on. “Yes! Yes, yes! You fool,” Todd snorts, shaking with laughter, and staying draped over his friend's legs even as he lets go of him. Now, he's laying on his back, head hanging off of Neil's thighs, one arm pressed against Neil's stomach, and the other to his own. The sight alone is enough to make the brunette's grin morph into something softer; a tiny, stolen smile. He admires his friend silently as he keeps laughing for another moment.

“Great,” Neil says, and Todd opens his eyes. For a moment, they look at each other, and the blond boy's smile slowly disappears—replaced by parted lips, and widened eyes. 

As soon as both of them realise that, maybe, the way they're looking at each other isn't so normal, Todd sits up, and Neil turns his head. It takes a moment, in which the blond fixes his hair a little, and steps on the cigarette that's still glowing weakly on the ground. Then, Neil smiles, looking back at his friend. “Do you think your parents will let me stay with you? I'm not much of a burden,” he asks, tilting his head. “Besides, we'd be out most of the time, probably.” Honestly, it's just hard to imagine such a long time without Todd by his side, in a bed right next to him, his voice the first thing Neil hears in the morning. That simply doesn't seem right anymore. 

Todd gives a small shrug, not looking at the brunette anymore, but he's smiling regardless. “I can call them to ask. I've never had a friend over, so I'm not sure,” he says slowly. “Though, we have a guest bedroom, and as far as I know, we’re not expecting any guests over the summer. Father's pretty busy, and Mother usually rather leaves the house herself instead of inviting people over.”

Guest bedroom. Right.

“Alright. Do you think your brother will be there?” Neil asks, stretching his arms. 

Todd huffs. “Maybe.”

Every time Neil sits in class, and everything is silent, his thoughts stray. It's hard not to let them. They wander to different places, like Keating, and Poetry, and Todd, and also that night—that night when the blond told him he wasn't interested in girls.

Of course Neil has heard of it before. It's not that hard. He's heard his father complain about it, and read articles about it in the newspaper. It's just, well; he never knew that he'd be a part of it. A part of what people seem to find so, so bizarre. Beforehand, Neil thought it was a little strange too. He thought that girls were pretty, so he was safe from whatever it was that those people had. Hah. While he still thinks that, maybe, he could love a girl, and be normal, he finds himself not wanting to. As horrible as it is, as hated as it is, how on earth could he ever give up loving someone like Todd? He can't.  

So, while he sits here in Latin class, and everyone's silently working on the exercise their teacher gave them, Neil thinks. 

He thinks about the fact that Todd likes boys, and he thinks about the fact that Todd treats him differently than their other friends. Most importantly, Neil thinks about all the times he's caught the other staring, and all the times Todd has caught him staring. It feels strange to assume, but Christmas, and the play, and all those times. Is Neil really delusional? There's no way he is. 

“You haven't written a single thing,” Charlie says next to him, and it almost startles Neil a little. His head turns, and he looks at his friend with a surprised expression, lips tugging into an amused smile—right, he really hasn't written anything yet. What are they doing again? Neil's gaze flicks back down to his textbook, but he's still not sure. What did their teacher say? He forgot. “I didn't listen. Dalton, my dear friend,” he says, wrapping an arm around the other's shoulders with a grin. “Get Meeks to give me the answers? I'll listen next time, cross my heart.”

For a moment, Charlie looks at him with that signature, amused smirk. Then, he scoffs. “Hey, wait a moment. Why Meeks and not me?” he asks, arching an eyebrow. Though, he writes down the request on a piece of paper, and reaches it over to the redhead.

“I’m afraid I trust Steven more when it comes to Latin exercises,” Neil snorts teasingly, nodding at their friend when he passes him his papers—already done, as expected. 

After a shove to his side from Charlie, which almost gets them caught, Neil actually decides to focus on copying the answers. It's not too much, but he knows he'd take a bit longer if he'd try to figure them out on his own. Really, he's good in school, he just can't be bothered right now. Usually no one notices, and their teacher is a little too preoccupied with his newspaper right now. Besides, Neil actually helped Meeks a little bit in chemistry—a one in a lifetime event, which he will never forget. Ever. 

When he finishes writing the last thing, he waits until their teacher turns away slightly before handing the papers back to Meeks. “So, what's got you lost in dreamland, sir?” Charlie asks smugly as soon as Neil settles back down, and the brunette gives an amused huff at the wording. All the literature really is doing something to him, it's amusing to watch. 

“Nothing,” Neil says, shaking his head, even though he's grinning from ear to ear. 

It's not like he can help it, really. The thought alone of Todd possibly liking him back makes his throat feel weird, and his stomach light, like the ground is pulled away from beneath him. A little like jumping on a trampoline—he’s tried that once, it feels incredible. Though, despite his quite casual answer, it doesn't seem like Charlie believes him, staring at him with a knowing smirk that makes Neil want to shove at his face. So, he does. “It’s not what you think, idiot,” he says with a quiet laugh, turning back to his textbook, like he's reading through something; he's not. 

Those words only seem to intrigue Charlie more, and he scoots closer with a grin. “ Oh? What am I thinking, Perry?” he asks, nudging the taller boy's side teasingly, because he knows, and Neil knows that he knows.  

When Neil realised it, he panicked momentarily. He felt a bit sick, because surely his friends would be disgusted. However, with every situation that came, and every amused, teasing grin that Charlie or Steven threw at him, he felt a little less terrified. Even though he still doesn't understand how they can be quite so casual about it, Neil is glad. He adores his friends, he'd be devastated, if they stopped liking him for something like that. For something he's unable and unwilling to change. “Just shut up,” Neil snorts, shaking his head. “You’d just go and gossip with Meeks about it.”

“Guilty as charged,” Charlie sighs with a smug smile, leaning back in his chair again. What an idiot. The brunette grins stupidly at his friend. 

Chapter Text

~×~

Frankly, Todd is not okay. He's not sure why he's so indescribably terrified of seeing his brother, because usually there's this numbness in him. It's like something has changed, and he isn't sure whether he likes it or not. It scares him; his brother meeting his new friends. 

Maybe Jeffrey won't like them, and maybe he'll tell their parents that Todd hangs around bad influences—which they are not. Or the older boy says something awkward about him, and all the other Poets think that Todd is even weirder than before. Every new possibility of catastrophic events he can think of makes him want to scream, and he hasn't properly slept since Tuesday; it's Friday. Tomorrow, his brother will be here, and he'll stay a few minutes away from the school for half a week, visiting every now and then. It makes Todd's skin crawl. Such a long time. Such a long, long time. 

Of course part of him misses the other. It's inevitable. Jeffrey is his older brother, and as much as Todd is intimidated by him, he adores him too. 

Because, because , his brother is incredible. Intelligent, and hardworking in a way that Todd could never be. He's popular, and good-looking, and kind, and just so much better than him in every possible way. It's so humbling that he can't look the other in the eye without feeling shame; he's ashamed of being related to him, because he can't live up to make a good name for his family like Jeffrey did. 

All of this is so stressful that, in the dizzy mess of it all, Todd can barely concern himself with his silly, not so silly crush on Neil. The mere thought of Jeffrey finding out about that makes him want to throw up, because he's heard that some families send their sons into military schools and conversion camps to get rid of their homosexuality. Todd can't do that. He wouldn't survive that, so Jeffrey can't find out. It's just so hard to hide it, and he isn't sure if he can manage to act like he doesn't prefer Neil over every person alive, because he adores him, and he's really bad at lying. 

Okay, maybe he's concerning himself with it a little bit. His eyes are wide open, and his fingers are thrumming against the blanket that's draped over him up to his chest.

With a deep, deep breath, Todd tries to close his eyes, but the only thing he sees is Neil, Neil, Neil, Neil. It's terrifying. Not that the brunette scares him now, but he's so—so sweet. They're such good friends, and he'll ruin it by being strange, by being queer. Neil already knows, and his reaction was neutral. The other didn't tell anyone, and didn't laugh, or insult him. Todd wants to believe that it's fine, that Neil also likes him, but he isn't so sure. 

“You know, I can hear you thinking all the way over here.” Todd nearly flinches when he hears his friend's voice, and his head whips around on the pillow. When he looks at Neil, the taller boy is looking at him with that look of focus; an expression of curiosity. Similar to how the other looked at Todd after the poem. 

For some reason, the blond lets out a startled chuckle, and he sits up a little bit. The motion is immediately copied by Neil, like he's been waiting for the opportunity. “Sorry,” Todd says. “I can't sleep.”

“Yeah, I know.” Neil smiles at him softly, and it almost makes Todd want to turn around and bury his face in the pillow, because— that smile. It doesn't take too long until there's gentle shuffling, and ruffling, and the shorter boy doesn't have to guess what's happening, because there's another person next to him before he knows it. His face feels warm. He can feel Neil's leg pressing into his, and he scoots to the far right until his side is pressed into the wall; it's still not enough. While Neil doesn't say anything, Todd runs miles, and miles of words through his head, rambling nervously about how this is something friends do all the time, and God, Neil is so beautiful up close, even in the dark. His mind can't silence itself, and he's sure that the brunette is staring right at him.

They both don't say anything, though.

For a few seconds, or maybe a couple of minutes, the two boys just sit next to each other. Legs pressed together, and gazes flicking back and forth. Todd is fidgeting, because his stomach feels a little bit weird, and he's not sure what to do. “Your brother?” Neil asks all of a sudden, catching the blond boy off guard.

“What?”

Neil hums, and now he's staring at Todd relentlessly. “Is your brother why you can't sleep?” 

“Oh.” Right, of course. Jeffrey is why he can't sleep. “Yeah—Yeah, that's… That's why.” 

Silence. “Okay.”

The way Neil is sitting next to him—without a blanket, and cowered together slightly just to look at his face—makes him feel a bit guity. So, against his better judgement, he takes away the only thing that's preserving his sanity. His hand gently moved the blanket from his lap, so it covers both of them. Now, he can feel Neil's warm skin against his. He feels a little dizzy. Todd doesn't know how his stomach feels so light, or why the taller boy isn't saying anything. It's all scary. Those warm, dark eyes are still boring into the blond’s face, where his eyes would be, if it wasn't for his overgrown bangs. Maybe he should cut them—they only feed into his fear of being seen. Even though he doesn't really mind, it sets back his progress. And, selfishly, he doesn't want that to happen.

Out of the blue, Neil moves closer, and Todd's mind turns blank. There's an arm slowly wrapping around his shoulders, and Todd is pretty sure he forgot how to breathe. “I’m sure it'll be alright. Is this okay?” Neil asks, and he's whispering, and he's so close, and Todd might start hyperventilating.

Despite all that, he nods his head, eyes wide, and face hot, and stomach swirling. His throat feels tight. 

“Uh, when I—Well, I don't know. I heard that it's comforting to be held, so, you know,” Neil says. It's a little awkward, the way he speaks, and a bit more unsure than his usual way. “Do you want me to do that? It's probably a bit too warm, I think, but I could just—”

“Yeah.”

Todd is not exactly certain where the word comes from, or if he says it at all. The only thing he knows is that Neil momentarily freezes, and then everything melts: They slowly sink back into the mattress, and the brunette pulls him closer. There's another arm, now, that wraps around Todd's waist, and he tries his very best to continue breathing—his lungs stutter at every movement. Their legs tangle a little, just at the ankles, and the blond boy's face pushes into Neil's shoulder almost instinctively. It's comforting. As much as it makes his stomach flip, and his head spin, he feels safe. With the comfort of their blanket, and the gentleness of Neil's arms, Todd feels good. He feels good.  

How long has it been?

It's quiet, a sweet silence that makes the boy feel good. A spring night, with the window opened just a crack, and the boy he loves holding him tightly. Todd's arms move slowly, unsure, and he wraps them as well as he can around Neil's body. It's not the most comfortable position to sleep in, but he's never felt more tired, and somehow, he feels really sleepy like this. His head moves and turns until his face is pressed into the taller boy's neck, and he nuzzles against the skin there tiredly. It doesn't seem like Neil minds, so it's okay. Right? All the exhaustion from worries and lack of sleep crash into him, and Todd dozes off. Slowly.

The soft scent of cheap shampoo, and freshly washed clothes are tickling his nose.

Jeffrey Jonas Anderson. 

It's a little like he's a celebrity, the way he arrives at Welton. He isn't greeted by a parade, and fans, no. However, the principal himself greets him, and Todd stands next to the black car like a fool. He hasn't even gotten to say hi yet, because Jeffrey is immediately pulled into a handshake, and a conversation with the other man. Next to Todd, with an unsure grin, Neil is standing for emotional support. The other poets are studying. 

“Mr. Anderson, it's such an honour for you to visit again. I hope your drive was pleasant,” the principal says, nodding.

Jeffrey huffs out a laugh. “Please. I'm just another student.”

With a twitch of his eyebrow, Todd bites his tongue. He didn't know that he could have such bitter thoughts. Perhaps finding his voice wasn't solely positive. It certainly has very bad effects on his attitude. “Your brother is doing quite well. Would you like anything to drink?” the principal asks. “We always welcome old students with pride.” What a lie. A few old students have already come by before, during Christmas. They were greeted like normal visitors. 

“It’s fine. I'm sure you're busy,” Jeffrey says, shaking his head. “I’m only here for my brother.”

At this point, Todd stops listening. He focuses instead on the way Neil is tapping his fingers against his leg impatiently. It's kind of sweet. Obviously he's bored, and feels awkward, and still he's here next to the blond. God, he loves him. The bitter expression morphs into a soft one far too easily.

When the principal finally decides to stop kissing Jeffrey's ass, and leaves to go back inside, he says goodbye a few too many times. Really, Todd didn't know he had this much rage inside of him for other people, but apparently he's evolved quite a bit. Or, maybe not. His back straightens as soon as Jeffrey looks at him, and he lowers his head. Todd can hear his heart beating in fear, and he tucks his overgrown bangs behind his ear—they fall right back into his face. “Hi. I'm sorry I didn't write back, I didn't know what to tell you about, and, well,” Todd rambles, fidgeting with his arms, and looking down at his feet.

Before he knows, there are two arms around him, nearly lifting him from the ground with eagerness. Jeffrey lets out a happy sigh, wiggling around his younger brother. “Oh, shut up. I know why you didn't write back,” he laughs, not letting go for now. “I’m so glad to see you, Todd. Did you grow? You're almost as tall as me!”

It's all utterly confusing, and embarrassing. Todd wants to cry, because his brother is so kind, and he feels so bad for being angry with him. He lets himself sink into the older boy's—man’s—arms, and hums, smiling. They stay like that for a little, and when Jeffrey's lets go, he leaves a hand on the younger's shoulder. He's changed a bit. New glasses, and slightly shorter hair. It's pretty similar to Charlie's in style and length, but it's a lot lighter. Even lighter than Todd's. 

“So? Is this your friend?” Jeffrey asks, raising an eyebrow at Neil. 

Oh, right.  

Todd turns his head to look at the taller boy, but before he can say anything, Neil reaches out a hand, and grins. “Yep. I'm his friend. Roommate, actually. My name is Neil Perry,” he says, glancing over at Todd. Almost immediately, Jeffrey takes the offered hand, raising an eyebrow at him. It feels a bit awkward, because Todd isn't sure whether his brother likes Neil or not. It doesn't matter. It shouldn't matter, at least. Everything is going fine. Why was he worried again? Todd's shoulders relax a little, and he nudges his arm into Neil's just out of habit. It causes the brunette to flinch a little, looking back at him with surprise subtly written over his features. Huh?  

“ Roommate, huh?” Jeffrey says, almost curiously. His gaze stays on Neil for a moment too long before he looks right back at Todd with a smile. “You found a friend, that's really good. I hope he treats you well, and doesn't bully you.”

It's a joke. Jeffrey's saying it with a laugh, but Todd can't help the way the words bubble up his throat. “He’s really kind; he wouldn't,” he says, kind of hurried, and firm. It surprises his brother just as much as it surprises himself. However, the most surprised is Neil, who looks at Todd with wide-eyed confusion, and a crooked smile. Warmth creeps into his face, and he fidgets with the hem of his shirt, averting his gaze. “I mean, they're all really nice to me. Most of the time. So.”

What was that thought about being able to lie? Todd's screwed. 

And he has to do this for multiple days? Oh, he's a fool. How could he even consider that he'll be able to do this? Neil is always with him. Jeffrey will definitely find out. Just the way he's looking at the two of them now says it all. That curious little grin, like he's figuring them out. Oh, man.  

“Well, then! Let's look around a bit. Go down memory lane. Oh , and definitely show me your room, I'll show you a little trick,” Jeffrey chuckles. His arm wraps around Todd's shoulders, and he tugs him along, sending Neil an inviting grin. Great. Absolutely fabulous. The blond boy's head is spinning again, but this time from pure embarrassment. Neil looks so—Well, Todd isn't sure what he looks like. Certainly confused, but also a little happy. 

As they make their way to the building, the sun starts to peak out from behind the clouds. It looks beautiful, and the light hits the school in a strange way. By that, Todd means it looks good. Less like a prison, and more like a home. Somehow, he never believed that he'd say something like that about a place that's brought him so much anxiety. But he's better now. He feels good, he feels rather happy, actually. It's insane how much a few months with the right people can do. His lips pull into a small smile, and he lets out a content sigh, stepping into the building with a little more certainty. When he glances over at Neil, the brunette is staring at the school with seemingly the same realisation: This isn't Hell-ton anymore. They're comfortable here. They found the beauty in all the chaos.

Since they silently agreed, the two boys walk around with Jeffrey, who starts rambling about all the things he's done during his time at the school. He tells them that he used to do homework on the staircase, because it was always empty there. 

When, eventually, they lead the older boy to their room, Jeffrey sits down on Todd's bed. It feels really weird to have him here at all, let alone in this context. With Neil also next to him, unsure if he should sit down or not. They look at each other, and the brunette lets out a snort, making Todd smile. “Oh, yeah. Let me show you that trick,” Jeffrey says excitedly. He jumps up, and glances around the room. Then, he grins, and nods. “Thought so.”

With a few, sure steps, he makes his way to the wall above Neil's desk. He taps against the wallpaper, and then just rips it open, revealing a little secret space that's probably really convenient for hiding.

“You thought an old school like this doesn't have secrets in every room?” Jeffrey laughs softly, closing it right back up. It's almost invisible.

Both Todd and Neil stare at the older male in utter confusion. They've been here for a while, the Poets even longer than him, and they've never noticed? The taller boy lets out a disbelieving chuckle. “God, the others will adore this,” he says, and Todd only nods. Well, this definitely makes smuggling things into school a lot easier. Not that he does it, but he does encourage it. So.

Jeffrey winks at them. “Told you.”