Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“So… how was summer military camp?”

Charlie’s draped over the door frame and leaning into the room as if he’s much taller than he is, smirking the way he does when he knows he’s testing a boundary but still going for it anyway. Neil just wanted to move back into his room peacefully since it was his last year at Welton and all, but of course the Poets had other plans.

“How do you think, Sherlock?” Neil quips back although he feels a small smile persist on his face. He had missed his friends over the summer; he never really saw them during the break before anyway, but being at a military boot camp had him thinking about them constantly over the summer, wondering how all of his friends would react to some of the insane things he had to go through.

Shaking his head the slightest bit, Neil reminds himself about how he had to put that shit behind him. Letting what happened at military camp affect him would only be letting his dad win, and Neil was very determined for that not to happen.

“Your beautiful hair,” Knox bemoans from the end of his bed with a lit cigarette already in hand, acting like a dagger had just struck him in the chest with his other. And yes, Neil did not like the mandated haircut the boot camp required him to have, but he was just glad that it wasn’t a full buzzcut. He still had some hair on the top, but it was a lot more stiff than the flowy look he preferred. Whatever, it would grow back anyway.

“You never cared about my hair before; why care now?” Neil questions with a smile at his friend’s theatrics. Charlie joins him on the end of the bed to mourn his hair together.

“You never know what you’ve got until it’s gone,” Meeks muses next to the doorframe with his arms crossed as he leans back on the wall, probably quoting some philosophy book he read over the summer.

The phrase makes Neil’s eyes dart over to the other side of the room where Todd is silently unpacking his belongings, the scene eerily reminiscent of when he first moved in last year. Except now Cameron and Pitts are sitting on his bed, paying too much attention to the conversation at hand to realize that they’re in Todd’s way, and Todd of course is too kind to say anything.

“Does this mean you’re gonna be like Cameron now?” Charlie asks disparagingly as he leans back to splay out on Neil’s bed.

“Hey!” Cameron pipes in from across the room, but that’s about as far as his defense goes for himself. 

“The last thing we need is two of you,” Pitts jokes despite being right next to him. Cameron lightly punches him on the shoulder in annoyance, but his anger goes unnoticed under the laughter filling the room.

“It’s a good thing, though,” Todd pipes up after the laughter dies down a bit, his gentle voice not demanding much attention but garnering it anyway since the Poets had come to appreciate it when Todd would gather the courage to speak so casually with them. “Like, we’re already balanced with someone as strict as you, Cameron.”

“Strict is Todd’s kind way of saying you’re a pain in the ass,” Knox tacks on quickly after, causing some chuckles to pick back up across the room.

“Or a teacher’s pet,” Meeks adds.

“Or a bootlicker,” Charlie contributes.

“Or someone who permanently has a stick up their ass,” Pitts nods along.

The room is filled with laughter now, even Todd and Neil laughing along silently despite trying to remain impartial to the whole argument. Cameron, however, is petulantly upset and gaining some color in his cheeks.

“What is this? An intervention?” he asks incredulously, seeming at his wit's end as he throws his arms out in question. Neil always feels bad for Cameron when they dogpile on him like this, but it was also nice to fall so easily back into their dynamic from last year.

“Maybe more of a wakeup call,” Knox appeases with a smirk on his face before taking a drag of his cigarette.

In order to defuse the situation and keep Cameron from getting dogpiled on even more, Neil tries to steer the conversation away back to where it originally was.

“To answer your question, Charlie, I will not be another Cameron,” Neil butts in, feeling a glimmer in his eye as he finally turns away from packing and leans on the radiator to face the whole group.

“So does that mean–”

“Yes, Meeks, that means the club is back on!” Neil exclaims with a flourish, smiling even wider as he sees the rest of the boys get excited.

“But I thought your dad had extra eyes on you?” Pitts asks, tilting his head a bit.

“That was last semester when tensions were high,” Neil waves his hand as if to dismiss the notion entirely. “After boot camp, I think he thinks he finally hammered some sense into me. I mean, he’s already left for today! He didn’t even do that when I moved in last year.”

“Which is to say that he didn’t hammer any sense into you?” Cameron asks, ever the smart aleck.

“Which is to say that I’m not gonna live a boring life just because I had to wake up at 6 in the morning everyday for a few months,” Neil quips back just as fast.

“How cruel,” Charlie says as he practically shudders at the thought of having to get up so early over the summer, the prime days for sleeping in.

“Well, I suspect you guys have had plenty of time to gather your most esteemed collection of poems during our brief hiatus,” Neil jokes as he pretends to talk pompously like their Latin teacher, crossing his arms and nodding to each individual boy the same way Mr. McAllister does. “Maybe even enough time to have written some poetry of your own,” Neil adds as he leans forward to lightly hit Todd on the back, directing the message at the poet himself. In response, Todd looks like a deer in headlights, much like Neil expected and to his endless amusement.

“Aw man, seriously?” Knox asks as he leans his head back dramatically.

“Off with you all! I don’t want to see the likes of you again until you have the absolute best poetry for tonight’s meeting!” Neil theatrically exclaims as he ushers all of the boys out of the room, knowing they needed to unpack into their own dorms but also knowing that Todd would appreciate some space.

There are a few protests from Cameron about how they should spend their first night getting ahead on studies, but Neil shoves him out all the same to let Charlie deal with his roommate. Neil supposes he lucked out when he got paired with Todd last year, no matter how awkward it was at first. Having a goody two shoes for a roommate would have driven him crazy by now given how strict everything already is in every other area of his life.

“Phew, thank god they’re all gone. First day and they’re already stinking up the place,” Neil laments as he leans on the door once he’s closed it, trying to seem like he just herded cows by huffing and acting utterly exhausted.

Todd smiles at Neil’s theatrics but doesn’t laugh like how he hoped. He continues unpacking unperturbed like how he did with everyone else in the room except now Cameron and Pitts aren’t in his way.

Walking over to his own bed, Neil plops down although he still has a bit of unpacking to do. It could wait for later.

“So, how was your summer?” he finds himself asking as he stares at Todd’s back as he continues to unpack. It’s a basic question that he was already tired of hearing, but Neil knew he was probably the only person Todd would actually open up to about his summer escapades, so he bit the bullet and risked sounding like a lame teacher.

Todd shrugs but doesn’t provide much else. Neil falls back to his bed dramatically with a groan, startling Todd enough to cause him to turn away from his packing to look at his roommate bewildered.

“Is this how it is? One whole year’s worth of work gone just like that, poof? All it takes is a summer for you to crawl back into your Todd shell again?” Neil tries to keep a playful tone in his question to not cause Todd to shut down from his prodding, now leaning up on his elbows to return the stare Todd is giving him.

Luckily, his questions cause Todd to laugh a bit as warmth rises to his cheeks. “No, it’s just… forget it, never mind,” Todd dismisses as he looks down embarrassed, shaking his head before turning back to his bags.

“Hey, hey, wait,” Neil says urgently as he springs up and goes to sit on Todd’s bed, forcing him to make eye contact by putting himself in his line of vision. “What? Does it feel weird being back a year later since you first started going to Welton?”

Todd looks up to avoid Neil’s prodding eye contact at first but nods along with what Neil is saying, eventually looking him in the eye before looking back down at his bags to avoid the eye contact once again.

“Yeah, it feels like so much has changed but also… nothing at all? I don’t know…” he admits before trying to dismiss what he said again. 

Neil scoots forward so Todd looks back at him. “Yeah, I know just what you mean.” He really did. After a crazy summer of boot camp and the tense situation at home, coming back to Welton felt like somehow traveling back in time to a place where nothing changed no matter how much you did. Neil felt so much older than he was, but everything felt the same again when he was bantering with the Poets. It was hard to describe, so Todd's attempting at voicing the feeling was probably the closest he'd ever get to it.

A small smile breaks out on Todd’s face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Neil affirms, smiling right back at him. For whatever reason, - Neil’s given up trying to explain moments like this ages ago – they stay there staring at one another for an extra beat.

Neil abruptly stands up when he feels the back of his neck start to heat up, and he rubs it as he makes his way over to his side of the room.

“Well, I guess I gotta finish all of this packing. I wouldn’t want to miss the fine dining provided nowhere else but Welton,” he kids as he starts fiddling with what’s in his suitcase. He hears Todd snort at his sarcastic comment from across the room, and everything feels right again.

Neil wakes up the next morning when it’s still dark out, unbearably tired but still unable to fall back asleep. He would bet a million dollars that it was 6 a.m. sharp right now, seeing as how his body was still finely tuned to the military schedule after a whole summer of that hell.

He hears Todd’s light snores to his side which makes him smile to himself. How odd it was to miss a sound he never would have thought twice about before.

The Dead Poets Society meeting last night, as much as he hates to admit it, ended up being kind of a bust. The problem was that spirits were too high; the boys were too rowdy, so the passion they usually had for reading poetry was gone entirely. Nights like that are always fun of course, but Neil was hoping for more than just a meeting of jokingly reading rudimentary poems in silly voices. He supposes he shouldn’t have expected too much from the Poets, though, especially since they hadn’t had a class with Mr. Keating yet this semester to light a passionate fire beneath them.

However, Neil didn’t need a class with Mr. Keating to reignite his creative mind; it felt like his creativity was practically starving after a spring semester of no Dead Poets Society meetings, boring Keating classes, and a whole summer of nothing but following rules. Not to mention, no acting whatsoever. It was the only way his father agreed to let him come back to Welton; well, that along with the boot camp over the summer.

The agreement he made with his dad that day after the play was probably one of the hardest ones he has ever made, but he knows it was necessary. He couldn’t survive military school full time before being shipped off to Harvard like some academic soldier dedicated to his father’s orders, especially not after finding out how much he loved acting.

But at least at Welton he had his friends and Mr. Keating, although his employment was a bit rocky there for a bit, hence why his lessons last spring were reduced down to the classroom and were relatively boring and by-the-book. Neil hoped this year he’d be able to expand back out into more of what he did last fall now that test scores were in and tensions weren’t as high.

So yeah, putting away acting forever, or at least for the near future, was one of the hardest decisions he had to make. But Neil also had a plan.

His father said he couldn’t act anymore, which of course Neil would keep his word to, but his father never said anything about writing a play. Neil has felt too artistically starved for too long, especially after the boot camp which was only filled with neutral and muted colors like beige and dark greens. He needed to express himself somehow; it wasn’t like anyone was going to read his play anyway.

So even though Neil felt practically dead with tiredness, he rose quietly from his bed and went over to his desk, lighting his lamp and getting out a spare notebook and pencil. Turning around tentatively, he makes sure the light and slight noise hasn’t disturbed Todd’s slumber. He’s staring at his roommate’s dirty blond hair which shines practically silver from the moonlight filtering through the window to see if there’s any movement before Todd stirs and rolls over to face the wall. A few short seconds later, Neil hears his light snoring pick back up and eases back into his spot at his desk after the confirmation.

Looking down at his dauntingly blank paper, he knew what he wanted to write but wasn’t quite sure how to start it. He wanted to write a play about the Poets, about a group of rowdy boys that broke the rules, discovered new truths, created their own paths, and sucked the marrow out of life. 

But how to start that? He supposes it should start with a conversation, maybe even a rumor: Have you ever heard of the Dead Poets Society?

By the time Neil hears Todd starting to stir as the sun slowly rises, he has about two solid pages of writing. It wasn’t much of course, but it was a start, and Neil felt more alive staring down at his own work than he had in months.

Before Todd could become any of the wiser of what Neil was doing or how early he woke up, Neil stored away his notebook safely and grabbed his things to take a morning shower, leaving Todd in the room to wake up on his own and join him at some point. 

The morning of their first day of classes goes by predictably miserable, Neil feeling like each class was adding on two more books to his stack than he already had to carry around the school. By the time he plops down into a seat in Mr. Keating’s class, his last class of the day, his arms feel like jelly and he has a pounding headache. Slowly, the class fills up as all of the boys scramble to their desired spots, the Poets clustering together towards the back left corner. After a minute or so of whispering to one another, the bell rings, the door is shut, and the class falls silent as Mr. Keating smiles at the head of the room in a way Neil has no other way to describe other than mischievous. 

There’s a glint in his eye as he paces around the room slowly, similar to how a shark circles its prey. He makes distinct comments about the students who stand out to him or who have noticeably changed, Neil not being an exception.

“Nice haircut, Mr. Perry. Very sharp,” he comments with his arms behind his back as he nods, not breaking his slow stride around the room. Neil merely smiles a bit abashedly and nods back to him.

“Ah, Mr. Anderson, I see you have found a new place to hide,” Mr. Keating comments when he sees Todd sitting next to Neil rather than his spot last year on the front row.

“I wasn’t- I-” Todd struggles to explain.

“Save your excuses, Mr. Anderson. You’ll need to save as many words for public speaking as possible since you’re only allotted about, what, 100 per year? Does that sound like the right amount?” Mr. Keating teases, causing Todd to shut his mouth and noticeably grow red from embarrassment. Neil knew Todd loved Mr. Keating as a teacher but was also incredibly wary of him since he didn’t let Todd get away with being shy like other teachers, so this interaction was no surprise to him. “Don’t think moving to the back of the room will save you, because it won’t.”

And with that, he was off again and commenting about other students’ whereabouts and appearances. Charlie receives a joking comment about how his posture is as poor as ever, Meeks gets complimented on his “spitting” new glasses, Cameron is informed of how flat the top of his haircut is along with Pitts, Mr. Keating pitting them to be a duo much to their dismay, and Knox is asked if he broke any hearts over the break.

After Keating finishes making his rounds, he finally settles at the front of the classroom with a wide smile on his face.

“Well class, you are a special group. Does anyone have a guess as to why I say that?” Mr. Keating quizzes, his eyes shining.

“Because we’re the smartest?” Charlie asks cockily, leaning back in his chair and smiling as if he already got the question right.

“Errrr, wrong! But thank you for playing, Mr. Dalton, like I knew you would,” Mr. Keating responds quickly and enthusiastically, earning a familiar chuckle from the group at his antics. “That should be a hint to you all.”

Neil tries to think for a moment what Mr. Keating could possibly be asking, but he figures he would be too afraid of getting the question wrong in front of everyone to even make a guess. Apparently everyone else feels that way too since it’s the first day of classes and the routine of Keating’s classes hasn’t fully hit yet, even Meeks who probably knows the answer.

“No one?” Mr. Keatings asks as he looks around the room to make sure he’s not missing a raised hand. “You guys are a very special group because you are not only the first class I had last year at Welton, but now you are the first returning class I’ve ever had too. And this comes with its benefits, - yes boys, like how Mr. Dalton felt comfortable enough in here to blurt out an answer even if it was wrong – but it also comes with some disadvantages as well, such as…” his voice drifts off as he stops pacing the front of the room to go up to the blackboard, writing the word “SUMMER” in all caps before turning back around. “Your first assignment!”

The class lets out a collective groan, Neil included despite how excited he was for this course since he had a headache from all of the other assignments he already had due. Mr. Keating merely chuckles at this predictable response.

“Yes, yes; I, too, know about the horrible workload at Hellton ,” he attempts to sympathize with a smile, “but this shouldn’t be too hard of an assignment.” The class perks up a bit at that since the phrase “simple assignment” was more of an oxymoron in Welton.

“Summer,” Keating says as he motions to the word on the board, “is possibly the most written about season across all literature, if not spring. And why shouldn’t it be? The days are longer which allows for more adventures, the sun is warmer which allows for more travel, and, of course, it is the sacred time that you youths don’t have to be in school. Since you are my first ever returning class, I would like for you esteemed scholars to write a one-to-two page paper on how you applied what you learned in my class over your break.” 

Neil feels his initial smile at Mr. Keating’s speech drop at the last sentence. He didn’t have much freedom to apply anything he learned in school to his life over the summer, much less anything he learned from Mr. Keating. Taking a quick glance around the room, everyone else looked about the same as him.

“Now I can tell from your blank faces what you’re thinking: what the hell did we even learn last year? Well, let me give you a few reminders to jog your memory. Of course we learned all about poetry, from the romantic period with Wordsworth to more modern work like Auden, but I want you guys to think about the messages we learned which were bound to such poetry,” Keating says earnestly, his passion for the subject showing through how he taught.

“For this assignment, I want to know: did you use your last free summer as a youth to suck the marrow out of life? Did you choke on the bone? Did you not even touch your meal at all and let it grow cold? These are the kinds of questions I want you boys to be asking yourselves every day because, as I’m sure you’re all familiar, carpe diem . Seize the day!” Keating yells suddenly, startling the class into paying attention. “You have so few days on this earth, so please boys, let me know if my lessons impacted you at all over the break. The paper doesn’t have to be fancy or long, just simply answer that question all you can for a page or two and you’re set.”

Mr. Keating is smiling at the front of the room like he didn’t just ask for one of the hardest assignments ever from Neil. How could he possibly seize the day when it was filled to the brim with rules, schedules, and drills?

Looking over at Todd next to him, his pale face says about the same as what Neil is feeling.

Once class ends and the bell rings, most of the boys skitter off for free time, but a few stay behind to ask Mr. Keating some questions, Neil included. A few of the more bookish kids ask questions first about the criteria and rubric for the assignment, and once Mr. Keating reassures them all one by one, the room is down to just Neil and Todd. Apparently he had a question as well, but he was lingering far back enough from the front desk that Neil could tell that he probably wanted his question to be asked last and privately. Whatever, doesn’t make a difference to him.

“Yes, Mr. Perry?” Mr. Keating finally asks as the kid before him walks out of the classroom.

“Well, about the assignment–”

“Are you struggling with it too? Apologies for being presumptuous, Mr. Perry, but I thought you would be one of my students who seized the day the most out of the bunch,” Keating inquires as he leans back to sit on the edge of his desk.

“Um, thank you for thinking that, Mr. Keating, but the thing is, I spent the whole summer at boot camp, sir. I figure it’s pretty hard to seize the day there, right? So I guess I don’t know what to write about,” Neil answers sheepishly, trying his best to not shy away from Mr. Keating’s relentless eye contact. Is this how Todd felt around him when mumbling out responses and avoiding eye contact? Was Neil this intense?

A flash of understanding and sadness passes Keating’s eyes as his face softens. “I see,” he comments as he looks down and thinks. “Still, I’m sure you found ways to make sure your time there wasn’t completely miserable. Made some temporary friends, stole an extra serving of pudding, possibly even daydreamed about a pretty girl back home?”

“Well, I guess I did some of that,” Neil appeases after a moment, considering the angle Mr. Keating was giving him.

“Well then, Mr. Perry, it seems like you seized the day to the best of your capabilities then. Don't worry, I won’t take points off if I find your story less interesting than that of another student’s who traveled abroad over the summer, though I highly doubt that,” Mr. Keating absolves with the glean back in his eye. Feeling admittedly better about the assignment, Neil nods and thanks him for his time before turning to leave the classroom.

He tries to shoot Todd a glance to silently inquire why he’s there and what questions he has for Mr. Keating, but he’s too busy staring at his shoes to notice Neil. Whatever, Neil thinks as he grabs his massive pile of books before starting to head back to the room. More time to work on the assignment alone.

Only one day of classes and their studying sessions were already back at full steam. Maybe Cameron was onto something about wanting to study the day before classes even though they had no material to look over then; anything at all to help this slog of work was welcomed by Neil.

The worst part is that Neil’s practically finished all of the hard work, and now all that's left is Mr. Keating’s assignment which was still daunting despite the reassurances he received after class.

The thing is, Mr. Keating’s lessons were partially why Neil was in such deep shit with his father already. He would never actually blame Keating for his strict dad, god no, but recklessly auditioning for a play he would have never been allowed to be in in the first place could be attributed to how Neil was high off of the notion of “carpe diem” at the time. So if he was being entirely honest with himself, Neil was just a bit scared shitless to seize the day anymore.

Rather than address any of that, though, Neil decides to procrastinate the assignment further by looking around the study room to see who he could bother out of their work. Charlie was struggling with his Latin and seemed about a few more root words away from hitting Meeks who was trying to help him. Similarly, Knox looks about the same as Cameron attempts to explain a question from their calculus homework to him despite being just as lost as the rest of them. Calculus was a brand new curriculum in the states in general, so of course cutting-edge schools like Welton needed to have it even though Neil doubted that even their teacher fully understood it. Pitts is shaking his head at Cameron from across the table silently, not knowing enough to explain why Cameron was wrong but knowing enough to disapprove of whatever he was saying.

Off to the side, Todd is sitting alone with his face about two inches away from his paper, his chewed pencil slack in his hand as he reads over whatever he’s written. He’s hunched over so much that his hair is falling over his face, a bit longer than it was last year but still inherently Todd . Neil decides he’s probably the best to procrastinate with given the high tensions on the other side of the table.

Sliding over, Neil claps the other boy on his back as he starts to speak to him, in turn causing Todd to startle like he usually does. “Hey Todd, working on Mr. Keating’s dumb summer assignment too? I’m sure you heard me after class, but I feel like I’m at a disadvantage since there wasn’t much day for me to seize, you know?” Neil muses as he attempts to look down at the paper Todd was working on, only being able to catch a few words and scratch marks before the other boy covers it up with his forearms.

“Uh, no. I’m working on something for… history class,” Todd stutters out with a bit of a panicked look on his face, his back tense from what Neil can feel with his hand sluggishly draped over it and his ears pink.

“You mean geography class? We took world history last year,” Neil questions with a smile threatening to take up his face as he tilts his head, attempting to find Todd’s eyes despite them being downcast.

Todd’s ears get even pinker than before. “Yeah, isn’t that what I said? Must’ve been out of habit,” Todd mumbles as he shoves his paper into a folder before pulling out his calculus homework to work on instead.

Neil finds himself chuckling as he unwraps his hand from Todd’s shoulder and opts to instead lean on his fist propped up against the table. “Woah, sorry Todd, didn’t mean to make it feel like I was interrogating you,” Neil teases as a smile persists on his face. Todd smiles back after a second, finally returning the eye contact once he has a new pencil out of his bag.

“Sorry, you weren't, it's just… I guess I’m still getting used to being around so many people again,” Todd admits as he shakes his head slightly, a small smile still on his lips as if he’s acknowledging what he said was childish.

The comment causes Neil to look up and survey the rest of the study room for once, noticing now how the space is bustling with other students and noisier than he was registering before. “Yeah, I bet it’s a lot quieter in your mansion back home,” Neil jokes once he turns back to Todd, making the other boy roll his eyes with an amused annoyance.

“I don’t live in a mansion–”

“No, no, I totally get it. Your butler probably trained for years to walk as silently as possible so he doesn’t disturb Master Anderson,” Neil continues with the joke, now adding on a pompous voice and wiggling his eyebrows.

As he hoped, this causes Todd to lightly laugh and look away embarrassed at the mention of his wealth. “At least a butler would have been someone else in the house,” he comments in passing as he shakes his head at himself. Neil feels his eyebrows crease at the words; what does Todd mean by that? That he was home alone all summer?

But before Neil can get a word out, Todd is straightening his back and mumbling about how he needs to at least try to do his calculus homework, acting as if he didn’t just say anything concerning.

Reading his posture, Neil slides back to where he was before and lets Todd work. That was the thing about his roommate: he could read him so clearly yet not at all. He could tell when Todd was overwhelmed, when he was flustered, when he was scared shitless, when he so rarely would be in a mischievous mood, but Neil also couldn’t tell shit about what was actually going on in Todd’s head.

And of course he never wanted to prod; Todd had a unique talent of making conversations he didn’t want to have feel like backing a poor helpless victim into a corner. Neil always wanted to go just a little bit further, wanted to figure out what was really going on with Todd, but he could also read his roommate too well to make him that uncomfortable.

It sucked when it came to actual issues like this rather than some non-serious drama. Neil wanted to ask how his summer really went, wanted to ask why he stayed behind even later to talk to Mr. Keating, wanted to know what he was secretly writing, but he also wanted to respect Todd’s space. He had done so much opening up from the first time they met; Neil didn’t want to jeopardize that for reasons he didn’t even know. Maybe it really was his geography assignment anyway.

Neil has to stick with that conclusion as he shakes his head to himself, snapping out of staring at Todd from across the table and back down to his blank paper. Right, so how was he supposed to write about seizing the day again?

It's been a week since the first day of school and the Dead Poets Society was finally back in full swing, much to Neil’s delight. After jumping the hurdle which was Mr. Keating’s first assignment, – Neil ended up fabricating a story about sneaking out the camp one night to buy some gum from a nearby convenience store – Keating had returned to his fun lessons which fired all of them up about poetry. Of course the focus was on literature now since the poetry unit was last year, but there were still poetic sentiments dripping from the readings and Mr. Keating’s lessons alike.

So, naturally, the rest of the Poets were now dedicated to putting a little more effort into their meetings, causing it to be a lot more enjoyable for Neil since they were finally on par with his own passion.

Despite getting his hopes up, Neil only feels a little disappointed that Todd still opts to stay silent during their meetings. Of course he laughs along and devotes his full attention to who’s speaking at the moment, but Neil can’t help but wish that his friend felt comfortable enough to read some poetry in front of them when he sees him huddled in the corner through the cigarette smoke, lit up by the small fire they had going and the lamp Neil himself had donned the “god of the cave.”

As much as Neil is enjoying the reinvigorated society meeting, he can’t help but feel himself drift off a bit as Knox recites some Whitman. He had been growing increasingly tired through the week because his body was still dedicated to rising at 6 a.m. despite how exhausted the rest of him was, and it seemed to be catching up with him now.

Given his sleeping situation, though, Neil opted to continue writing for his play in the mornings. It’s almost become a sort of meditative ritual, waking him up and getting his brain moving before anyone else in the building has risen. Despite the benefits like his increased focus in his morning classes, it was hard to appreciate them when Neil felt the toll of his unhealthy sleeping schedule weighing down his eyelids now.

He’s starting to doze off, his head lolling forward sluggishly, before Todd lightly elbows him back to consciousness. Neil feels himself sit up straighter to try to fight some awareness into him before turning over to Todd, a question of why he woke him up in his eyes since usually he would just steer Neil to not hit his head on anything when dozing.

He turns to find Todd looking scared shitless even though nothing else was really going on besides Knox’s dramatic reading of the poem, something about the earth and its waves. Knox finishes the poem after a line or two more, causing everyone to start talking and applauding him which incidentally gives Neil enough cover to talk to Todd without it being rude or eavesdropped.

“What is it? You look like a ghost,” Neil inquires, noting teasingly how pale Todd looks even in the warm glow of the fire and candle next to him.

“I- um, I have a poem.” Neil’s face must change dramatically to show the joy he was feeling because Todd rushes to finish his statement quickly after. “I-I don’t want to recite it, of course. I was kind of hoping you’d do it for me?” Todd asks through a wince even though Neil’s done nothing but smile like an idiot at him.

“Is it your own poem? Because I feel like you should perform that yourself,” Neil asserts as he maintains eye contact with Todd who still looks like he saw death itself.

“No, no, it’s just a poem I found that I wanted to hear out loud. I-I think you’d be the best at performing it,” Todd tacks on, finally gaining some color in his face but only because of the embarrassment he was obviously feeling.

“Oh Todd, flattery will get you everywhere around here,” Neil jokes as he takes the paper from Todd’s hands. The other boy’s mouth is opened in what’s most likely protest, but he doesn’t manage to get anything out because Neil is already rising to his feet and clapping to gather the Poets’ attention in the midst of all of their clamoring.

“Attention! Attention, fellow poets! It’s a very big day today; do you guys know why?” Neil quizzes in a grand voice, surveying the room to ensure he’s gotten full attention from everyone. If there was anything Neil adored, it was showmanship.

“Why?” Pitts finally takes the bait for the rest of them after a few beats of silence, allowing Neil to jump right back into his act from before.

“Why, Pitts, I’m so glad you asked me that. Today is a big day because, for the very first time in all of Dead Poets’ history, our very own Todd Anderson has submitted a poem he would like to be read aloud,” Neil explains while making dramatic gestures towards Todd, the other boy already hiding his face in his hands from embarrassment. 

Neil’s pretty sure he can hear Todd lament how he’s never going to ask him for anything ever again before the rest of the group starts clapping and stomping their feet, Neil’s smile widening at the contrast of Todd’s defeated mood and the celebratory wailing of Charlie’s saxophone at the news.

“Is it his own poem?” Knox asks once the clamor of their cheers dies down a bit.

“No, our dear friend isn’t so bold yet despite how we’re all his adoring fans. Instead, he has submitted for me to read a poem by…” Neil brings the paper closer as he squints in the firelight to read the name Todd scrawled out on the bottom, “Dylan Thomas.”

“Never heard of him,” Meeks admits, signaling to the Poets that it’s a pretty obscure poet since Meeks knows practically everything.

“It’s- it’s a more modern poet than Whitman,” Todd supplies through his hands which are still covering his face in what Neil assumes is mortification.

The rest of the Poets try to spring questions on Todd then, but Neil shuts them down in an attempt to take the attention off of his friend who was clearly uncomfortable. Yeah, Neil can see why Todd may never submit a poem to be read ever again, much less one of his own. But that just meant he needed to enjoy this moment now while it lasts.

“Gentlemen, enough stalling! Let’s dive into this highly esteemed and carefully curated pick from Todd titled… ‘Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night,’” Neil blurts out, successfully directing all of the attention in the room to himself once again.

The poem, it turns out, is a lot more intense and angry than Neil would expect from Todd, but it’s not hard to read like some modern poems tend to be. Seeing as this may be the one and only time Todd ever submits a poem to be read, Neil tries his best to put his all into his performance.

“ Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, / And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, / Do not go gentle into that good night.” Neil reads out, the line sticking out to him even in the middle of focusing on reciting the poem.

As he performs it to the best of his ability for the group, – and for Todd since he entrusted the task with him – Neil finds himself doubling down on the motif like of “rage, rage against the dying of the light” each time it’s repeated, functioning for him to end the poem practically yelling as he instills the sentiment one last time.

The group is eerily silent once the poem is done being read aloud, and Neil himself finds himself huffing a bit to catch his breath after the performance. After a few more beats of silence, the Poets break out into a loud chorus of cheers and clapping.

“That was really good!” Knox comments what they’re all thinking out loud as he claps.

“We should let Todd pick more poems for us to read in future meetings,” Charlie affirms as he reaches over to clap Todd on the shoulder encouragingly.

“Yeah, it sounded like something Mr. Keating would assign us to read in class,” Pitts contributes, clearly meaning it as a compliment as he smiles at Todd.

“Where did you find that poem, Todd?” Meeks asks after a few more moments of praise over the reading.

Neil finally turns to see what Todd looks like in the midst of all of this praise, and much like he expected, he’s beet red and shaking his head dismissively with a humble smile on his face. Neil sits back down, now fully turned to Todd as he waits for the answer.

“It was in a publication I was reading, that’s all. Apparently Thomas traveled around America to perform his poetry before he died to help his work gain some popularity,” Todd eventually provides to the conversation as if they were pulling teeth from him.

“He died?” Cameron asks with a bit of disbelief in his voice.

“Yeah, in 1953. That’s what Keating told me anyway,” Todd responds. Is that possibly what he stayed after class to talk to Mr. Keating about? Poetry and Dylan Thomas?

“No wonder that poem was so good,” Neil finds himself saying, all of the Poets turning to look at him now. “He was dying. That was probably his way of raging against the dying light of his life.”

“I guess it worked. I mean, we’re still reading it now,” Knox speculates and the rest of them nod along in agreement.

The conversation surrounding the poem lasts for a bit longer, but the Poets soon have to wrap it up since it was getting late and there was no way that there would be a better entry for the rest of the night. Neil’s thankful for calling it a night since he was a few more minutes away from accidentally bashing his head on the cave wall from falling asleep.

Despite how tired he was, he felt fired up as he ran back to Welton with the Poets. Society meetings had always been fun last year, but this felt like the first time the whole group took a poem seriously enough to actually discuss it rather than just clap politely afterwards. Of course Todd would be the one to do that; he was the best poet of them all if that one infamous class in Mr. Keating’s was anything to go by. Neil just wished he would put himself out there more, but he supposed he was fine with being Todd’s understudy for now.

Neil had thought about telling Mr. Keating about the play he was writing, he really had. 

But Mr. Keating had already been in enough shit when Neil had confided in him about the whole acting thing, so Neil wasn’t inclined to bring his teacher down with him again. That is to say if he was going down in the first place, which he fully intends not to. And to ensure that, he has to keep his secret tightly locked and sealed.

So of course he couldn’t tell the Poets about it since some of them weren’t the most secretive people; he had already spent hours envisioning how each of them would react to a play practically being written about them. Charlie would be smug and assume he was the leading man, Meeks would insist for Neil to write his character at least a few jokes so he wasn’t just the smart one, Knox would demand for the whole group to perform it together, Pitts would most likely agree with Knox and maybe ask for a joke or two like Meeks, and Cameron would want to either be written out of it or have it shut down entirely since it essentially was a play describing all of the ways they broke the rules.

And Todd, well, Neil wasn’t too sure how he’d react. He could be mortified at the idea of being observable enough to even have a character written for him. He could be excited that Neil was pursuing something creative in his spare time. He could be the cautious voice of reason reminding him of how his dad would probably react if he found out. He could be upset that Neil decided to do something so invasive without asking any of them if it was okay with them before.

So really, Todd was a wild card, and if Neil was being honest with himself, pretty much the rest of the Poets were too. Which is why it was best to keep the play to himself, writing it early in the morning when he woke up and keeping a small notepad on him for when ideas came to him throughout the day. It was better this way anyway since the Poets would probably start acting weird and not truly like themselves if they knew they were being observed and documented for a play.

However, Neil still didn’t have much time to work on his play since most of the boys would wake up around 7 to get ready for school which started at 8. One hour each morning – a bit longer on the weekends – was nice but not nearly enough for Neil to get the ball rolling like he desired, especially since it took a while for him to fully wake up in the mornings already.

Which is why Neil was now walking in the woods alone in the afternoon during the free time the students at Welton were granted after the school day was finished. The rest of the Poets were using this time to study which was probably the best decision, but Neil couldn’t take it anymore and omitted the invitation by saying he had something he needed to work on alone in his room. Which was technically true since he needed more time alone to work on his play, and what better place than the cave that the Poets met in for their meetings?

Sure, he should probably just write in his room since it was already free with Todd gone and studying, but Neil didn’t want to have to be afraid of someone bursting into his room without warning, didn’t want to be seen scrambling to shelve his notebook since that was a dead giveaway.

So the cave was the best option for now. The weather was nice out since it was still the beginning of the school year, and he suspected that he even saw some yellowing leaves emerging on the trees which towered above him. Fall was approaching rapidly despite how warm it was out right now and Neil couldn’t tell if he was excited for or dreading graduating from Welton. It felt weird to be on the precipice of something without knowing if he would fall into something better or worse than what he already had.

His internal speculation is cut off once he arrives at the cave, his brain being too wrapped up in how odd the space looked in broad daylight rather than in the moonlight and firelight he knew. The god of the cave somehow looked even sillier than it does in the dark, but Neil settles on the ground next to it all the same since the floor there was the most level in the cave.

Neil appreciates the cool draft in the cave he feels once he’s sat since the sun was a little hot on his back before. After observing the space for a few moments more, he finally snaps out of his stupor and takes out his notebook from his bag along with a pencil. By now, he had about 15 solid pages of script if he wasn’t counting the scratch paper he used to jot down general ideas. 

Even just feeling the weight of his notebook in his hand made him feel satisfied with himself in a way he never had before. Usually Neil would be appalled at the end of the school year when he saw how many notebooks and composition journals he filled up with countless notes about chemistry, Latin, U.S. history, algebra, etc., but now it felt like an extra piece of him was taking up physical space in the world rather than other people’s words. He’s never really had that agency before since he always had people controlling what he did, whether it be his father, Welton, or his drill sergeant, so it was invigorating to have a physical piece of defiance in his hands.

With that infinitely fond feeling, Neil peels open his notebook to where he left off and begins scratching down some dialogue which had come to him during their last society meeting, the one where he read Todd’s chosen poem. He obviously doesn’t use the same names as his friends and doesn’t frame the scene exactly how it happened in real life, – he needed to take some creative liberties so it would be an actual play and not a memoir – but the same passion he felt then is preserved within the pages that he writes.

After about 30 minutes of writing, Neil finally has all of what he wants from that scene fully captured. His hand was cramping from writing practically non-stop within that pocket of time, and in order to give himself a rest, he decides to go back to the beginning and fully reread what he had already.

Given the short amount of time he had each morning, Neil wasn’t able to reread the play but merely add onto it with what he had in his mind at the time, so he felt himself incredibly glad to have ditched the study session to work on his play now.

While he rereads the play, he tries to view it from the perspective of one of the poets, of Mr. Keating, or of an outsider. To his relief, he still finds it easy to follow along from those other perspectives and thinks it’s fairly good at keeping his attention as well.

Once he gets to about page 6, though, he feels his eyebrows furrow. Now, obviously since the play was about the Poets as a whole, there wasn’t really a main character. There would be a more prominent character in each given scene, but it wasn’t like Neil made himself the main character who narrated and directed the entire story himself. Given how self-absorbed that could come off as, Neil deliberately made sure to avoid that at all costs.

But once he was about halfway through rereading the entire thing, he realized that every character more or less revolved around one Poet in particular. Every scene managed to include the character, there were always in-depth descriptions of what he and his facial expressions looked like, and every character either went to him for help or obviously valued his opinion highly.

Neil had named the character William since it sounded regal but could still be boyish when shortened to Will, and he was just realizing now that he had included a surprising amount of descriptions about this character’s blond hair, blue eyes, and unassuming but devout personality.

Oh shit , Neil thinks to himself, I accidentally made Todd the main character.

Neil feels his face heat up as he reads yet another paragraph about William’s particular mannerisms in a scene despite him only having one line compared to the countless lines the other characters had. How the fuck did he not notice this until now?

Right as Neil was verging on a mini crisis, he hears some movement not too far outside of the cave. The area was far out enough from the school to still be on campus but not be on any of the other students’ radars, so hearing a sign of human life near the cave admittedly caused Neil to panic.

At lightning speed, he throws his notebook and pencil into his bag and dashes out of the cave and off to the right of the entrance, the opposite of where he was hearing the noise. Luckily, there was a bush nearby for Neil to practically dive behind for cover, concealing him from whoever was in the area.

Realistically, Neil knew it wasn’t anyone to fear; even the Dean couldn’t get him in trouble for being far away but still on campus during their allotted free time. But still, he didn’t want to be caught out here, didn’t want to have to explain himself to anyone when he hardly knew how to explain it to himself.

Peering from behind the bush, Neil feels his gut drop when he sees the person he was running from finally emerge from the woods. It was none other than Todd, the very subject of his peril at the moment, looking around cautiously with his book bag close to his side. After one more advisory glance, he enters the cave like Neil did nearly an hour ago.

But what could Todd possibly be working on that was so secret that he needed to hide out in the cave to do it? Neil understood his own explanation about how he couldn’t afford his father learning about him writing the play, but what was Todd’s excuse? He was probably working on the same thing he was writing the other day in the study room that he quickly covered up.

But for all Neil knows, it could just be Todd’s actual homework since his roommate was already unnecessarily secretive and shy for reasons unknown to him. Once again, Neil curses being able to read Todd so completely yet not at all. 

Rather than barging in and demanding for answers, Neil decides to back off for now to think further about what he already knows. As he takes measures to quietly slink away from the cave and back towards the campus, he thinks about all of the pieces he has of the story: that odd thing Todd had said about his home over the summer, that paper he quickly covered up during their study session, staying behind after Mr. Keating’s class even later than Neil, and now sneaking off to the cave during the daytime. But what could that all possibly add up to?

Maybe time will tell, though Neil doubted it since Todd didn’t say much of anything unless he was forced. But maybe this was a sign that Neil needed to finally push past the limit he put for himself and pry a bit into Todd’s life. He knew it sounded bad, but he just thought about all of the times Todd was pushed out of his comfort zone: that one class with Mr. Keating where he made poetry out of thin air and, more recently, the last society meeting they had. 

Both instances brought forth truly incredible moments, and for some reason Neil knew Todd was capable of so much more if he just didn’t clam up and retreat any time anything of challenge approached him. Maybe not accepting Todd’s excuses for an answer like back when he first made Todd join the society would bring forth something good in this situation.

Or maybe Neil should just mind his own business; he hated how unsure Todd made him, especially since he was usually so sure of everything. In the relative silence of the snapping twigs and crunching foliage below his feet, he felt himself heat up again as his brain wandered over to his play and the clear hole he had dug for himself.

Why had he even subconsciously made Todd the lead in the first place? Did he think it would be performed someday so giving him the most stage time would push Todd out of his comfort zone? Was he thinking at all?

It didn’t even make sense for there to be an essentially silent lead in a play. Todd’s expressions were much too minute for them to be detectable on stage, and his scripted silence would most likely be read as bad acting once the scene was played out.

So why did he do it? Neil shook off all of the possibilities that came to his mind as he neared back to the Welton building since none of them let his stomach sit easy. He would have a lot of scrapping and rewriting to do in order to fix this mistake. Maybe both him and Todd could keep their secrets for now.

“No, I know Dad, but it’s not like–”

Neil heard Todd’s gentle voice mutter those words from down the hall as he was walking back to their room after finishing up his morning shower. The sound was coming from nearby since Neil obviously wouldn’t be able to hear Todd’s hushed voice from here if he were in their room. He pauses where he is since he figures Todd is on the phone with his dad at the landline, not wanting to interrupt the conversation but also not being able to contain his curiosity.

“I just- I really want–” Todd’s voice almost fights back but keeps getting cut off by the other person on the line undoubtedly. Neil almost wants to rush over and rally Todd up to fight for himself, but he knows that this is his roommate’s own battle to figure out himself. Besides, he hated when Todd was hypocritical when giving him advice about talking to his dad, so Neil didn’t want to fall into that role either.

“Y-yes sir, I understand,” Neil eventually hears Todd assent solemnly after an elongated silence, most likely filled by his father’s talking on the other line. What fight was he losing right now? Neil didn’t even have so much as a guess.

“Yes sir, I’m sorry for asking,” Todd follows up shortly after, sounding completely deflated from what Neil could hear. “Goodbye.”

And with that, Neil hears the click of his friend hanging the phone back on the line before walking back off in the direction of their room, luckily never turning back to see Neil in the approaching hallway.

Neil wasn’t quite sure what they were talking about, but he figured he could relate since the conversation seemed to go about the same way it always did with his own father, at least from what he heard on Todd’s end. It made Neil sad in an unexplainable way that Todd most likely shared the same strained relationship with his father; almost all of the Poets probably did if Neil was being truthful with himself. Maybe it’s because good parents wouldn’t ship off their kids to be dealt with at a boarding school; who knows?

After waiting for a while longer so it wouldn’t be suspicious, Neil finally returns to their room and quietly closes the door behind him. He swears he heard a sniffle when he first entered, but there’s no proof of any tears on Todd’s face when he turns to him and nods cordially.

Neil hated how… weird it felt between him and Todd sometimes. It was understandable when they first met, but once he finally broke down Todd’s walls, they seemed fast friends. Todd opened up to him more than he did with the other Poets, albeit still not entirely, and he had seemed more carefree in general during their prime days of the society meetings. He was still Neil’s friend after the whole play debacle with his father, probably his best friend, but Neil couldn’t find an explanation as to why there’s been so much regression between them after the summer break.

Did Todd reflect and realize that he hated Neil and only tolerated him because they were in such close proximity? Did Todd decide that he would only be cordial with him in order to stay in the Dead Poets Society? Was he too overbearing, too intense for him?

Neil hated when he got in his own head, hated when he went silent like Todd because it only led to bad things. It led to thoughts Neil wasn’t too sure he would ever be comfortable sharing out loud, which is saying a lot since he was practically an open book with his friends.

In order to snap himself out of his spiraling stupor and lighten the dampened mood in the room, Neil jumps into action and crosses over to Todd’s bed to sit in it while the other boy puts on his uniform for the day.

“Hey Todd, remember when we stole all of Mr. McAllister’s chalk last year so he couldn’t teach us Latin for a whole class period?” Neil brings up in a wistful tone as if he was looking back on a fond memory and not something considerably risky that could have gotten them into a lot of trouble. As he expected, Todd turns to him with wide eyes and looks around the room quickly before whipping his head back to Neil.

“I thought we weren’t supposed to talk about that,” he returns in almost a whisper, still looking too freaked out to smile quite yet.

“It’s been a while now, surely McAllister doesn’t remember it now,” Neil waves off as he tries to get a rise out of Todd.

Todd takes the bait as he resumes putting on his tie over his white button up shirt. “No, Neil, Mr. McAllister still definitely remembers and would still get us suspended if he ever found out. I didn’t even want to be a part of that whole mess in the first place,” Todd practically chastises as he continues getting ready.

“Oh, come on, you always say that, but you end up laughing the hardest when we act like idiots. You’re just like Cameron,” Neil tacks on at the end, knowing just how to get Todd to play into his hand. He really didn’t have any other goal from this conversation other than riling up Todd and getting both of their minds off of their shitty fathers. It was a noble enough act, he thought.

“I am not like Cameron; why would you even say that?” Todd asks exasperatedly as he waves his arms halfheartedly in frustration.

“I don’t know, maybe because you like to act stuck up but end up enjoying the benefits of breaking the rules? Just like Cameron,” Neil points out in an arrogant manner, quirking his eyebrow at Todd in a silent way of challenging him.

“I am not stuck up,” Todd laments as he paces up to where Neil is sitting.

“Oh yeah? Prove it,” Neil says haughtily as he stares up at Todd who is now looking down at him with an almost petulant frustration, though the quirk of his lips gives away that he’s not actually upset. A charged moment of eye contact persists between them before anything happens.

Finally, as if snapping Neil out of a trance, Todd paces away to his desk and pulls out his calculus textbook, opening to the first page and slowly ripping it out as he makes eye contact with Neil once again, defiance and a small smile on his face.

“See?” he says once he’s fully ripped out the page. “Not stuck up. Cameron would never do that even if you paid him 50 bucks.”

Neil goes over to the page he ripped out with a smile, holding it up and looking it over with a faux sense of being impressed. In his act, he whistles out a tune the way adults do when they see something like an expensive car.

“Wow, yeah, color me impressed. I would never have had the guts to rip out the title page of a textbook like you,” Neil teases, causing Todd to turn around as if he was offended although he could tell the other boy was just playing along now.

Todd, with a knowing smile on his face, reaches over and rips the page out of Neil’s hand and balls it up before throwing it back at the other boy. “Shut up,” is all he has left to say, admittedly through a laugh as Neil cowers from the paper ball being hurled at him.

Feeling victorious at somewhat cheering Todd up, Neil gets up from his bed with his hands raised in surrender. “Okay, okay, I concede. You’re the baddest boy in all of Welton,” he teases one last time before going over to his side of the room and packing his things up for his first class.

He can practically hear Todd roll his eyes from across the room, something he often did with Neil but usually in a playfully frustrated way, now not being the exception either. “Whatever,” Todd refutes back to end the conversation, and even though Neil is turned away from him, he can still hear Todd’s smile through the word.

“Alright boys, I can tell by the hungry look you have on your faces that you want something more than just the excerpts from classic literature that we’ve been reading, something with more substance. Am I right in this?” Mr. Keating questions sarcastically, a glint in his eye daring someone to prove his ironic statement wrong.

The class inherently lets out a small groan at the news since an actual book entails longer and more in-depth analysis essays from the students, so it wasn’t a surprise that no one was really jumping at the opportunity to increase their workload from Welton.

“I know, I know; you guys didn’t even need to let Mr. Dalton voice your concerns this time,” Keating acknowledges, causing Charlie to lean back in his chair smugly with an air of recognition as Keating winks at him. “But don’t despair, dear students of mine, because it is a short book which I think you all will find to be agreeable to read.”

As Mr. Keating says this, he begins to pace back into his room behind the blackboard to grab something and shortly comes out with a pile of books that are thin and seem easy for him to carry despite the quantity.

“ Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck! Sincerely one of the best novels to be written within this century, and I hope you boys can see the reason why as we begin reading it,” Keating explains enthusiastically as he gives a mound of books to each student on the front row to pass back.

Neil finds his eyes meeting some of the Poets as they get their copies of the books, apprehensive looks on their faces given the fact it’s Steinbeck. Knox starts to wave his copy as if it’s a fan while Charlie makes a disgusted face, garnering a few smiles and hushed giggles from the group before they turn back to the front in order to not be caught kidding around.

“I trust that you all are familiar with Steinbeck? Or do I need to explain the author’s life and work thus far?” Keating questions almost conspiratorially as he sits on the front of his desk, holding his hands together in a praying motion and pressing them to his lips as he surveys the room.

“Actually, we read one of his books, The Pearl , back in 8th grade here, Mr. Keating,” Cameron pipes up from the second-to-front row, always willing to be the helpful teacher’s pet when duty called.

“Marvelous, so I won’t have to cover much. And how did you boys feel about that novella?” he asks as he continues to survey the room for any initial reactions.

“Personally, I didn’t like it. I thought it was boring,” Charlie proclaims almost proudly from the back of the room. Neil can practically hear the smug grin on his face without turning around to see it for himself.

Mr. Keating’s eyes snap over to Charlie with a knowing glint in them. “Thank you for voicing your opinion, Mr. Dalton. You all are definitely not required to like a book merely because it’s written by a highly esteemed author or because it’s been deemed a classic. Did Mr. Dalton accurately capture how you all felt about The Pearl as well?” Keating explains in a pleased tone, keeping his voice soft when asking his question as if to establish that there is no judgment coming from him.

Slowly, the rest of the students in the class nod their heads, even Cameron gradually giving in and agreeing that the book was kind of a slog to get through.

“Well, worry not! I’m sure you all are wary of another novel by Steinbeck given how you feel about his other, but I encourage you all to start this book with an open mind. I suspect you may find it more engaging and emotional than the reading you’ve had before,” Keating encourages as he walks around the room, making sure to make eye contact with all of his students.

After establishing a basis for the book, Mr. Keating spends the rest of their class period together briefly explaining Steinbeck’s background, the economic climate of when the book is placed, and then finishes by leading a discussion of what the title could possibly mean before they even begin reading it.

The discussion began at a very surface level by taking the title as seriously as possible and speculating that the book was merely about creatures and how they live with mankind. But after a few minutes of debate, even Neil piping up a bit to comment on the power dynamic of the phrase, the class comes to the consensus that the title is about mankind but more specifically how the weak are separated from the strong.

Soon after they are satisfied with what they came up with, the bell rings and Mr. Keating shouts about how they should have the first chapter read by next week. Though the rest of the class began to pack up quickly, Neil found himself not really wanting to move out of pure thought, wondering how Steinbeck came up with a title that could be so heavily debated before the book was even read. Was that something he should strive to accomplish for his play?

Despite wanting to stay back and discuss the subject with Mr. Keating even more, Neil glances to his side and notices that Todd still hasn’t moved to pack up any of his materials despite the rest of class already being on their way out of the room. Right, Neil supposes he wants to stay behind and have a super secret discussion with Keating again.

Upon realizing that, Neil starts to pack up his bag and leave the room. He still wasn’t ready to pry yet, still wanted more time to figure out the enigma his roommate was turning out to be. Besides, he needed Todd taking up less of his attention since he was currently attempting to rewrite his play to minimize the effect he had accidentally put on William. Glancing back at Todd in his seat and matching the smile the other boy gives him before he leaves, Neil starts to worry that removing his attention from Todd would be much more difficult than he initially assumed.

Neil was admittedly going a little crazy. It’s been a few weeks since class has started, but he’s hardly made much more progress in his play because his brief hours in the morning have been dedicated to essentially writing Todd out of the story. But of course without the central character, the play doesn’t make much sense, so he has to keep attributing different actions and words to different characters, but then that doesn’t really align with their actions and personalities so far, but by then the sun has come up and he has to get ready for school. And thus the cycle continued.

All of that to say that Neil just needed was a few unbroken hours to truly look at his play and piece it together to make it into what it needs to be. So immediately after excusing his way out of yet another study session, Neil is grabbing his bag and heading to the cave.

Neil had been afraid of going back since he never knew when Todd would be there, and he had come to the decision that he still wasn’t ready yet to have the difficult conversation with his roommate that would surely unfold from running into him there. But the play had begun to drive him so crazy that he convinced himself that he could deal with the problem whenever it came time to. If Todd tried to use the cave while Neil was there today, he could either await his fate and confront Todd or scramble away like before. Either way, Neil was going to get some time to have peace and quiet to fix his play.

He takes the walk to the cave slow, however, because Neil just couldn’t help but enjoy the beauty of New England on the cusp of fall. A light breeze was in the air and the trees were gradually yellowing, but summer’s breath was still persistent in the air and breathed down his neck as he walked through the woods. Soon, he would be wearing sweaters and maybe even bulkier jackets to keep out the cold, so he wanted to enjoy the pleasant weather for now.

Neil’s in a dream-like state when he arrives at the cave, feeling less like he was going crazy and more like he was able to fix what he hoped would eventually be his magnum opus. Maybe he really just needed some alone time to calm down since he was practically always cooped up in a building with other teenage boys. Neil smiles to himself at the speculation as he ducks into the cave.

Despite his cheery mood, Neil can’t help but let out an admittedly un-manly scream and feels his heart drop upon entering the cave when he sees Todd already sitting inside. Todd has about the same reaction, turning as pale as a sheet and letting out a jolted sound of fear alongside Neil’s.

“Holy fuck!” Neil hears the exclamation startle out his mouth at the same time Todd yells “Jesus Christ!” to no one in particular. Neil can’t help but initially back away from the cave entrance due to how startled he is while Todd scoots back into the cave wall behind him.

“Oh my god, how did you get here before me?” Neil asks in a huff once he gets over his initial surprise.

“What do you mean ‘get here before you?’ Were you following me or something?” Todd practically demands as he holds his heart from the initial scare, his voice louder now than Neil had heard him all year so far.

“Me following you? How about you following me out here?” Neil asks incredulously, calmer than before but still acclimating to the bizarre conversation he was having with Todd at the moment.

“What do you mean I followed you?” Todd questions back, sounding just as incredulous as he lowers his hand from his heart to gesture his hands around as if to further establish his confusion.

“I mean that two weeks ago, I was out here wri- I was out here studying when I suddenly heard footsteps approaching. I ran and hid since I had no clue who would be out this far at that time of day, and then I saw you enter the cave! You had to have been following me then,” Neil explains as he feels his ears heat up a bit as he stammers, just barely covering up in time that he was actually out here working on his play.

“You were here then? Why didn’t you say anything?” Todd inquires, his confusion doubling instead of being resolved like Neil had hoped it would be.

“Um, I don’t know, maybe because you’re one of the most secretive and skittish people I know? I’m just spitballing here,” Neil counters sarcastically as he throws his hands out to emphasize his point.

He renders Todd speechless for a bit – admittedly not a hard task – before the other boy opens his mouth again. “How come you were studying all the way out here? I thought you said that you were going to our room to do that?” He was misdirecting like he usually did when Neil asked questions he wanted to avoid, but at least he wasn’t denying the fact that he was secretive and skittish.

Rather than explaining it logically like he knew he should by saying something like he wanted fresh air or to get away from all of the hormones in Welton, Neil immediately gets defensive instead. “Why were you all the way out here? What were you doing that was such a secret that you needed to be so far away from everything?”

Todd’s face gets red at the callout, but he counters quickly after. “I could be asking you the same thing.”

And shit, Neil had put his own foot in his mouth and gave Todd just as much reason to be suspicious of him. Sure, Neil was a good actor, but that was with a script. Todd was probably the person who made him feel the most like he was stripped of all of his lines and cues, just left out on the stage to somehow come up with something brilliant. It was a thrill to improvise, but he hated it when it came to them fighting.

Suddenly, something dawns on Neil: why were they fighting? In an attempt to remedy what he's done, he crouches back into the cave and sits down not too far off from Todd. The other boy still seems uncomfortable and defensive from where he is, but he permits the intrusion of space with an apprehensive question in his eyes.

“Look, I’m sorry Todd. I shouldn’t have started the conversation off by accusing you of shit. We shouldn’t- I don’t want us to be fighting when we’re both just genuinely confused, you know?” Neil reflects as he tries his best to get back on the same page as the other boy, feeling gratified when Todd visibly untenses at the change in Neil’s tone.

It takes Todd a few moments before he can respond, shaking his head and sighing lightly. “No, I get it; it's a weird coincidence and I startled you. I should have heard you coming and done something to lessen the surprise,” he concedes almost sheepishly.

“I think whatever you could have done would have scared me just the same,” Neil kids, a smile and light laughter being shared between them at the statement. “You know, I feel like we both ended up coming here for similar reasons by accident,” Neil conspires a few beats later.

“Really?” is all Todd asks back, looking up through the hair falling over his face with a small smile. Just like that, Neil felt all of the tension magically dissolve as if they weren’t just bickering and accusing one another of who-knows-what. He should probably be freaked out at how fast things could flip between them, but Neil felt too relieved to be on the same side as Todd again to care.

“Yeah, we’re both clearly here to work on something of our own without interruption or any prying eyes. The only problem is, we accidentally ended up interrupting each other by looking for that space,” Neil attempts to explain, hoping he was somewhat close to getting the story right. He could be severely embarrassing himself if Todd really was here just to study alone.

“I guess you’re right,” Todd confirms with a slight laugh encasing his words. Neil feels himself untense from the risky moment and finally scoots closer to Todd.

“Okay, so, I have a proposition for you,” Neil says with a glint in his eye, smiling at Todd the way he usually did before they did something that was not up to Welton’s standards.

“A proposition?” Todd asks in genuine confusion, being thrown off for a bit. “What is it?” he gives in and asks, sounding wary but the smile on his face giving himself away.

“What if we both agree to use this space to work on our own things as long as we promise that we don’t have to tell each other what it is we’re working on? That way, we can both work away from everyone else in relatively complete silence,” Neil proposes, bringing his knees to his chest and resting his head on top of them as he awaited a response from Todd.

This made the most sense because, realistically, they both really were just coming out here for the same reason, so why should they be arguing or fighting for the space when they can just agree to work in harmony? It wasn’t like them to quarrel, anyway.

Todd brings one knee up to rest his head on while he contemplates Neil’s proposition, his eyebrows knit together and his face looking serious as he seems to really consider it.

“So you won’t ask me about my shit if I don’t ask you about yours?” Todd asks to make sure he was getting the full picture.

Neil feels a smile break across his face at the crude phrasing; Todd would curse just as much as the other boys, but since he talked so much less than them, it was hard to catch it. “Yes, exactly,” Neil nods with a smile as he sees Todd seriously starting to consider it.

“Alright then,” Todd finally agrees with a smile which Neil hypothesizes he learned from Charlie given how it seemed slightly smug. In response, Neil holds his hand out for Todd to clasp it in a firm handshake; the deal was made.

When settling into a spot near Todd but not too close to be crowding him, Neil can’t help but feel a little giddy on the inside. Virtually this agreement between them was nothing, just a confirmation that they could speak less to each other here than they already did, but as the other boy gives him a small smile before turning back to his work silently, Neil felt like this was a small step toward coming to understand the enigma that was Todd Anderson.

Chapter Text

“Come on boys, high knees!” Mr. Keating calls out to the group as they make a lap around the soccer field.

The entire class was huffing as they tried to bring their knees higher as they ran, completely exhausted. Neil felt himself struggling for breath, albeit less than the others due to the continuous drills he did over the summer, and really hoped they would take a water break soon; Mr. Keating had brought them out here after making them change into athletic wear and had been making them run ever since. Neil had been hoping that Keating would go back to his unconventional way of teaching this semester, he admits that much, but making them run until they felt like they were going to throw up was not what he had in mind.

“Do you feel tired?” Keating asks after a few more minutes of them jogging. Neil swears that they’ve been doing this for at least half of the class period now.

“Yes sir,” they all say in unison, some of the voices more winded than others but all sounding defeated.

“Do you feel thirsty?” Mr. Keating follows up, Neil being too focused on staying upright and running to look at him but still knowing he probably had his hands behind his back as he quizzes them.

“Yes sir,” they all responded obediently once again.

“Did you all do the reading over the weekend?” Keating inquires, pivoting the flow of questions now.

“Yes sir,” they all respond in unison once again. Was this some sort of punishment because he didn’t think they did the reading?

“Good! Now, once one of you can tell me why I’m having you run around the field, I’ll let you stop and take a water break,” Mr. Keating states as he projects his voice for all of the students to hear him, piquing their interest at the prospect of finally being able to stop.

Neil felt like he could cry; the end was so near in sight, but he also had no idea what the hell Keating was talking about. Why was he making them run like maniacs in the first place?

“Because you hate us?” Charlie asks through puffs of breath, trying his best to smile but looking more like he was in pain as he rounded one of the corners.

“Errrr, wrong, but thank you for playing Mr. Dalton,” Keating responds with a smile, spinning around slowly to look at all of his students running around him. “Don’t be shy now, boys, or else you’ll end up running for the entire period.”

“Because you’re required to enforce government-mandated exercise for us?” Cameron asks in a voice that sounds like he was about to pass out, just throwing an answer out there in hopes it would be right.

“Errrr, but thank you for playing, Mr. Cameron,” Keating replies breezily, practically torturing the boys with how comfortable he seems not moving around the field.

“Because you think some of us didn’t do the reading?” Neil finds himself blurting out in desperate hopes to let them come to a stop. He thought pointless running was behind him once he left summer camp.

“Errrr, wrong, but thank you for playing, Mr. Perry,” Keating repeats once again. Neil is gonna cry. “I couldn’t care less if any of you actually did the reading, but it would definitely help you out right now.”

The comment sets off the bells to the group that it’s a hint as to why they were stuck perpetually running around their teacher. After that, almost all of the boys throw random guesses regarding reading and the book out there, all of them wrong.

After a few minutes of guessing, Neil has resigned to his fate of forever jogging around this field. This was his life now. Right when he starts seeing white dots in his vision from exerting himself too hard, that’s when he hears it.

“It’s because George and Lennie are on the run,” Todd’s timid voice pants out loud enough to be heard once the other guesses die down. “They can’t stop and neither can we. That’s why you’re making us run.”

“Ding, ding, ding, correct! You all can stop now thanks to Mr. Anderson,” Keating calls out, barely being able to finish his statement before everyone is collapsing on the grass and cheering for finally being able to rest.

“Todd,” Knox calls out through his ragged breath. “I would lift you over my head like we did for Mr. Keating last year if I wasn’t so exhausted.”

The rest of the class agrees unanimously with the sentiment, and Neil can’t tell if Todd’s face is red from being out of breath or from embarrassment when he props himself up on his elbows to look at his friend. Probably both.

“The water station is open over here, boys,” Keating calls out from the side of the field, somehow rousing the dead as the class gets back on their feet to trudge over for some water.

It’s almost eerie how silent the entire class is as they wait for their turn to get some water, just panting and bending over in exhaustion to catch their breaths. Neil can’t bring it in himself to care since he’s too tired to speak. Sure, boot camp had built up his tolerance for running, but doing it for 30 unbroken minutes was bound to wind him.

Keating waits for all of the boys to get their turn at getting some water and lets them catch their breaths before calling for them to huddle around him in the middle of the field. Although the boys groan a bit, the resistance is much less than usual since everyone is too exhausted to put up a fight.

“Alright boys, like you heard, Mr. Anderson here got the question right about why I was having you run around the field.” As Keating says that, all of the boys reach over to clap Todd on the back and cheer once again. Now Neil knew for sure that Todd was red due to embarrassment. “But why would I have you do this?” Mr. Keating questions as he looks up to the boys huddled around him.

“Because you want us to understand their perspective in the novel?” Meeks asks after a second, still sounding a bit winded but coping well enough given that he wasn't the most athletic.

“Well done, Mr. Meeks,” Keating commends with a smile. “I had you guys run today because, as much as it sucked, this is the most you boys will ever be able to relate to George and Lennie. You boys are wealthy enough to attend an expensive boarding school like Welton, and you are very well educated because of it.”

Mr. Keating is very serious now as he looks around at all of the boys. “And I don’t want any of you disputing me on this. I know it doesn’t automatically mean you’re rich if you attend Welton, but either way, you are still considerably wealthier than Lennie and George. As characters, they are dirt poor with no real family or property to their names. They are traveling from place to place just in hopes of receiving work. None of you boys will be able to relate to that, at least I hope it never comes to that for any of you in the future.”

Silence falls over the class as they all listen to Mr. Keating intently. Neil initially felt himself reject the message since he wasn’t nearly as rich as the other boys that went here, but Keating stopped his reaction promptly. 

“I made you boys run today because being exhausted and thirsty for about 30 minutes is the closest you will ever get to understanding how these characters feel. And that’s just 30 minutes; George and Lennie have been doing this for most likely their entire adult lives. Just think about that: a lifetime of running and never getting enough of what you need no matter where you went,” Keating says, leaving a gap of silence for the boys to let what he just said sink in.

“Have any of you ever thought about how privileged you are before? Really thought about it? Did you write it off as luck? Being blessed? Maybe you thought you deserved your privilege, that you earned it somehow? But really, what makes you so different from the kids across the world who will never have it as good as you have it now, from the kids that go to Ridgeway High?” Keating inquires, relentlessly piling on more and more existential questions none of the boys had really thought about before if their faces were anything to go by.

Before anyone can respond or comment on the questions Mr. Keating posed, the bell is ringing and class is over. “Just something for you boys to think about as you read this novel,” he ends the lesson with before strolling off back to the building, hands in his pockets and looking as if he were about to start whistling. Neil felt jostled by the entire lesson, and looking over the rest of his class which were still panting, he suspected he wasn’t the only one.

“You better bring a good poem tonight,” Neil tells Todd with a bright smile on his face as he sits down next to him at the dining table. Todd nearly chokes on his drink which makes Neil smile even wider.

“Wh-what do you mean? It was just that once,” Todd tries to explain, bewildered and looking around helplessly as the rest of the Poets sit down at the table with their food.

“No can do,” Meeks says teasingly as he adjusts in his seat.

“You gave us a taste of what Anderson can really bring to the meetings, and now we want more,” Charlie explains with his half smile, unfolding his napkin with a flourish before setting it across his lap.

“Oh, come on guys. Can’t you just find some good poetry on your own?” Todd almost whines as he tries to dig himself out of the hole he found himself in.

“Can’t find any,” Pitts provides simply to the conversation.

“What Pitts means is that we don’t have the… trained eye of a poet like yourself to find good poetry,” Neil attempts to flatter in order to ease Todd into the idea better. Seeing his face redden, Neil should have known that flattery only made his roommate shut down.

“Sorry, Todd, no getting out of this one,” Knox says as he pretends to sound apologetic before breaking out into a smirk.

Todd merely groans as the rest of them laugh, moving on from the topic quickly so there would be no room for debate. Todd was stuck with his fate now.

The society meeting goes how it usually goes, beginning with opening message they always read to remind them of why they held the meetings in the first place, shooting the shit while smoking the cigarettes they smuggled in and eating the snacks they brought, and then finally taking turns to read out poetry, some picked by them but mainly what Mr. Keating marked in the book long ago.

Once it gets closer and closer to the end of the meeting, though, the rest of the Poets start to frequently look over at Todd expectantly between each poem being read. Once Neil had read out the final chosen poem for the night, he couldn’t help but grin and turn his head to stare over at Todd along with the rest of the boys.

“Well?” Charlie finally asks, all eyes on Todd as the boy practically shrinks in the shadows from the attention.

“I brought a poem,” Todd mumbles out in a weak voice that most likely wouldn’t have been heard if it wasn’t for the rest of them being completely silent.

Cheering broke out across the group as the nearest Poets clapped him on the back, causing Todd to turn a shade of red that even Neil could detect in the moonlight which filtered in through the hole in the ceiling of the cave.

“Don’t expect anything special, I had to get an old one I had saved a while ago since I wasn’t given much time to prepare,” Todd warns, raising his voice to be heard over all of the clamoring.

“Oh, come on, I’m sure it’ll still be great,” Meeks dismisses, the rest of the boys mirroring the same sentiment.

Before Todd can say anything else in protest, Charlie reaches over and nabs the paper Todd had in his hands before standing up.

“You can sit down, Neil; I want to read the chosen poem tonight,” Charlie says through a smirk as he makes his way over to the spot where they always performed their poetry, nudging Neil out of the way since he was still standing there from performing before.

Raising his arms in surrender jokingly, Neil makes his way back to his spot next to Todd and gets settled to hear the poem be performed by someone else. Looking over at Todd for a second, he notices how pale he is while biting on his thumbnail nervously.

“Come on,” Neil whispers in a conspiratorial tone with a smile, “it’ll be great. And if it isn’t, you can blame that on Charlie’s performing skills.”

The joke lightens his friend up a little bit, but he still looks fairly nervous by the time Neil finally turns back when he hears Charlie clearing his throat to get their attention. “This poem, my friends, is titled ‘We Wear the Mask’ by Paul Laurence Dunbar; ooh! Sounds like something an actor can relate to,” Charlie announces to the group, making eyes at Neil for his comment and earning an eye roll from the other boy.

As Charlie finally begins performing the poem, Neil nearly forgets about the cigarette between his fingers as he feels himself become completely engrossed, the lines themselves starting off fairly harmless before being revealed to have a more sinister underlying message behind them.

“This debt we pay to human guile; / With torn and bleeding hearts we smile, / And mouth with myriad subtleties.” Charlie reads out, clearly trying his best to avoid a silly voice like he usually does in order to give Todd’s chosen poem the seriousness it deserves.

The poem isn’t too long, possibly even shorter than the last one, but Neil can’t help but feel affected by the message behind the poem since it’s about how most people pretend life is great despite falling apart on the inside. He feels his face flush in recognition at the sentiments expressed in the poem, taking a drag of his cigarette to try to ignore how much he understood it on a personal level.

Charlie ends the poem with the phrase “we wear the mask” which was repeated throughout the poem, and unlike the last time, there is no delay in the applause that follows the poem finishing.

“I told you, Todd, still great!” Meeks calls out as they’re all clapping. Of course Charlie is bending over and bowing as if he just gave the performance of his life like an idiot, causing them to laugh as they applauded.

“I think I liked this one more than the last one, actually,” Cameron commented once the clapping had died down.

“Why?” Pitts questioned almost incredulously, obviously favoring the Thomas poem from his reaction.

“Well, of course the poem from last time was good, but it was the same message we always hear in Keating’s class, you know? This poem touched on themes Keating didn’t get to which I liked,” Cameron explained, possibly being one of the first times all of the Poets had listened to him without any of them rolling their eyes.

“That’s a good point,” Meeks joins in on the discussion. “While the other poem reminded you to enjoy life while you can, this one questioned what really makes a life enjoyable.”

“What do you even mean by that?” Charlie counters with confusion soaking his features, not making fun of Meeks but genuinely trying to get at what he was saying.

“Well, at one point the poem acts like keeping your pain to yourself is an unalienable right, but then the end reveals that it’s something we do to make everyone else in the world more comfortable. But if everyone is in pain and hiding it to make other people feel better, wouldn’t it just be better altogether to admit that we’re not okay?” Meeks explains methodically, ever the brainiac. It takes the group a moment to fully absorb what he said.

“So what we’re doing to make life more tolerable for other people is making it intolerable for everyone?” Neil asks after a few beats of silence, genuinely thrilled by the in-depth analysis they were giving the poem. Once again, only Todd would be capable of such a feat.

“Exactly,” Meeks responds with a satisfied smile.

The meeting lasts for a bit longer with Pitts piping up to explain why he liked the last poem better without it being a copy of the messages from Keating’s class. With the way he was talking about the poem, Neil almost suspected that he looked it up in his own time and read it outside of the society meeting, but that couldn’t be right. Most of the Poets didn’t give enough of a shit to do anything like that.

After a few more minutes of debating, they finally decide to wrap up the meeting and run back to Welton in the dark, laughter between all of them as they attempt to keep quiet.

Trailing behind Todd on their way back, Neil can’t help but wonder why his roommate resonated so much with rather bleak poems enough to have them saved. The first poem was angry but close enough to Keating’s lessons that Neil didn’t think much of it, but a poem about tortured souls stuck on a vile planet? It was setting off some alarms in his head, but he didn’t know how to bring it up without sounding like a concerned parent.

To be fair, it’s not like Todd wrote the poems himself; that would be a whole other can of worms. Neil supposed, if Todd's hushed conversation between him and his father the other day was anything to go by, that Todd’s home life wasn’t the best. And he did go to a place like Hellton, so it made sense to feel like a tortured soul here who had to put on a mask every day. Neil just hoped Todd didn’t still wear it around the Poets, that he didn’t still wear it when it was just them.

This is… new , Neil thought to himself as he sat in the cave in broad daylight.

Looking up from his notebook and over to Todd who was sitting across the cave in his own corner, Neil wonders if his roommate also feels a bit weirded out about their arrangement.

They had both come up with separate excuses to avoid the study session today since they had already finished most of their work and then promptly walked in the woods together to arrive at the cave. On their walk, their conversation flowed as easily as ever, which is part of why Neil feels somewhat unnerved by the silence that came over them when they got to the cave that was still persisting now. Whatever, he needed the silence to work on his play anyway.

The thing is, it was kind of hard to write for his play when the number one culprit of previously screwing it up was across from him.

Sure, it wasn’t Todd’s fault that Neil accidentally made him the silent lead in his play, but Neil didn’t feel like blaming himself either. Trying to write a scene where the Poets subtly rebel through eating with their non-dominant hand at dinner, Neil finds his eyes wandering back up to Todd across the cave. Why did he have to sit right where the sun fell through the hole above so the light made his hair golden? It was distracting.

Todd starts to look up from his paper most likely from feeling eyes on him, but Neil luckily tears his eyes away and glues them back to his paper quick enough to not be caught. He feels his ears heat up despite not doing anything really embarrassing; Todd was just catching his eye because he practically had a spotlight on him. Besides, Neil’s eyes always wandered around the room in the mornings when he was trying to think of the next piece of dialogue, only now Todd was in his way here.

Neil swears he can feel Todd’s eyes boring into the side of his head as he works on his play, but he finds his roommate to be staring at his own paper like before when he finally gets the courage to look up again. Neil considers the possibility that he was going crazy as he turns back to his play.

A few more minutes pass before Neil hears a throat clearing from across the room. “Neil, um, I-I was wondering–”

“I thought we agreed on no asking about what we were working on?” Neil cuts him off with the question, a smile on his face because he knows he’s being presumptuous.

“No- I know, I was just gonna ask…” Todd stutters in response, his rushed reply quickly trailing off into nothing. Neil’s staring at him as he waits for him to finish his question, but Todd is still avoiding eye contact as he messes with his fingers.

“You were gonna ask…?” Neil trails off as well, mirroring what his friend said in hopes that he picks up where he left off. After a few beats of silence, Todd finally returns Neil’s eye contact with a determined look in his eye.

“Why do you get up so early in the morning?” Todd finally asks, his eyes still set on him despite his nervous body language.

“Wh-what?” Neil questions back, feeling his smile drop as he was genuinely taken off guard by the turn in the conversation. He always made sure Todd didn’t wake up when he turned on the lamp in the morning, so how did he know?

“I thought it was just something you did every now and then, but I- I started to realize that you woke up early every day and just went to your desk.” Neil must be making a horrified expression at this point because Todd quickly backtracks. “I-I don’t stay up and watch you or anything, you just wake me up a bit every time you turn on the lamp, but I fall back asleep pretty soon after.”

Neil’s stunned into silence for a good few seconds, trying to grasp what Todd just asked. He supposes he should have guessed that he wasn’t being as sneaky as he thought since he had already been caught at the cave by Todd, but he had been getting away with working in the mornings so much that he had fallen into a false sense of security. 

He feels like the rug has been pulled from under him, and it was utterly humiliating. How was he even supposed to answer what he’s asking? But then it dawns on him that he doesn’t have to answer Todd’s question since it’s technically connected to his play.

“Like I said, I thought we agreed about not asking what we were working on?” Neil repeats, knowing he’s being vague but technically upholding the deal they made the other day.

Todd’s eyebrows furrow at this as he continues to stare at Neil. “So you mean what you work on here, you work on in the mornings too?” he asks after thinking to himself for a bit.

“Yep,” Neil answers curtly, hoping his brevity will signal to Todd that he wants this conversation to stop. He just couldn’t afford to tell Todd about the play. Of course he could trust him with the secret, it’s not like Todd’s a loudmouth, but Neil knows himself enough to know that gushing about it to someone will only cause it to spill into other aspects of his life. It was safer to just keep the secret locked up tight.

“But why do you get up so early then if you come out here to work on it? Is this not enough time?” Todd continues to ask despite all of the cues being thrown at him, deciding to become a chatterbox all of the sudden right when Neil doesn’t feel like talking.

“I don’t need time, it’s just…” Neil begins frustratedly before making himself stop. He shakes his head to himself as he feels his frustration build, not wanting to take it out on Todd but also not wanting to have to explain anything to him. “It doesn’t matter, I won’t get up and bother you anymore.”

“No!” Todd practically yells out of nowhere, startling Neil enough to cause him to turn back to his roommate. He finds him with the same golden hair but slightly pinker cheeks and a panicked look on his face. “It doesn’t bother me. I wasn’t asking to make you stop, I just wanted to know why since waking up early makes you so tired now,” he rushes out to explain.

With the innocent and panicked look on Todd’s face, Neil feels bad for being so passive aggressive towards him. It’s just, why does Todd get to have all of the secrets? The second Neil has one for himself, it’s sniffed and rooted out immediately while Todd keeps his tightly shut behind some kind of vault. As childish as it sounded, it felt unfair.

“S-sorry, I didn’t know it would strike a nerve,” Todd mumbles as he finally breaks eye contact, seeming to try to dismiss the idea entirely. And then Neil feels bad again since his roommate was just caring for him, and he made it seem like it was some horrible invasion of privacy as if they didn’t share the same room.

“No, no; I’m sorry Todd. It’s not like it’s a sensitive question, I don’t know why I’m acting like this,” Neil finally gives in, softening his voice while minutely shaking his head at himself. “I work so early just because I can’t sleep, so might as well be productive.”

Todd looks up and gives Neil an unreadable face he sees every so often from his friend, one where he looks deeply interested and also vaguely hurt, though Neil has no idea why he’d have it now. Not being able to take it, he turns away from him and back to his play.

Just from the silence that follows his statement, Neil can tell Todd wants to ask more questions but is afraid of setting off yet another hidden land mine on the subject. It’s almost comical the way Neil can predict when he hears Todd’s mouth inhale to say something finally.

“But why–”

“Why can’t I sleep that early in the morning?” Neil cuts him off but asks for him, turning to face his friend only after he’s asked. Todd is staring at him with a sheepish look on his face as he begins to nod.

“Because I’m still on the military schedule,” he sighs. “I try to go back to sleep in the mornings, I really do, but it’s like my brain doesn’t care how tired my body is. I just have to wake up then,” Neil explains, admittedly sounding frustrated not with Todd but himself. “Are you going to ask more questions, or can I get back to my work?”

Neil knows he sounds like a dick, but he couldn’t help but feel frustrated with Todd at the moment. He was the reason why his play was messed up in the first place, he wasn’t giving him the time now to fix those mistakes, and he gets to keep all of his secrets while Neil has to spill his guts out to him the second his sleeping schedule changes. He knew half of that wasn’t Todd’s fault and that he didn’t actually have to tell his roommate anything, but it just felt a bit ridiculous as all of it piled up.

Todd shakes his head quickly and lets out a high pitched “nope” before finally looking back down at his own paper, working on god knows what. 

If Neil really wanted to be a dick, he would bring up Todd staying behind to talk to Mr. Keating alone, maybe even the phone call with his dad the other day. Questioning and really digging into that subject until Todd talked felt about fair right now, but Neil keeps his mouth shut and his eyes trained on his paper. No matter his frustration, it never felt right pressing Todd about anything. 

Maybe that was something he could include in his play; maybe he could write out the conversations he wanted to have with Todd that way. He wondered how differently things would go then.

Blinking his eyes open to find a dark room, the light sound of Todd snoring off to his right, Neil can’t help but feel upset. 

As prying as Todd was yesterday, he made a valid point that there really was no purpose to him waking up so early anymore since he could sneak out to the cave with him for much longer periods of time to work on his play. Just from the last few days of their agreement, Neil successfully shifted the play’s view from William to be more centrally focused on the whole group, which he knows would have taken him at least a week’s worth of getting up early to remedy.

Of course there were the pros of being more focused and alert in his morning classes, but seeing as how tired and delirious he had begun to feel from staying up late at Dead Poets meetings followed by waking up early to write his play, the cons seemed to outweigh any good aspects recently. It’s not like he wanted to get up this early in the first place; it was a curse that proved that his father could still affect him no matter how far he got away from him, but now Todd had made it feel like it was Neil’s fault in a way.

Begrudgingly, Neil gets up and goes to his desk. He might as well get something done with his mind racing so much. Turning on the lamp and getting out his notebook, he finds himself not doing it as cautiously as before since Todd confirmed that it woke him up temporarily all the same.

Right as Neil poises his hand to write on the paper in front of him, he hears a groggy voice call out.

“Neil, go to bed; ‘s dark out,” Todd mumbles from his bed, his head half-smushed into his pillow from what Neil can see in the dim lamplight.

“I can’t,” Neil responds in a frustrated whisper. It wasn’t that easy; it wasn’t like he could just close his eyes and magically wish away his body’s conditioning after months of getting up early.

Todd goes silent for an elongated amount of time, so Neil had assumed that he had gone back to sleep like usual until he hears his roommate clear his throat before speaking again.

“What if- would you sleep better if there was more sound?” Todd asks, sounding a bit more awake and clear in the quiet morning air of their room.

“What do you mean, ‘if there was more sound?’” Neil inquires, turning around to stare at the vague outline of his friend.

“I mean, like, are you tired?” Todd asks.

“Yes, Todd, of course I’m tired,” Neil answers back a bit curtly, not knowing where Todd was going with this.

“Well, then you probably can’t sleep because your brain is too active, so what if you had something to listen to to distract it?” Todd explains the best he can, his voice raspier than usual due to just waking up.

“Like, what? A bedtime story?” Neil questions back, admittedly a bit harsh. He had been more and more short with his friends recently, undoubtedly because of his sleep deprivation. He hated when his pleasant act dropped, but he couldn’t find the will to keep it up as much anymore.

“I mean- no,” Todd rushes out, probably embarrassed at Neil’s accusations. “I could- actually, never mind.”

Todd turns away from the lamplight and faces the wall, most likely to fall back asleep. Great, he not only woke up Todd, but now he’s upset him as well. Feeling his agitation and defenses fall away, Neil starts to feel bad for being so short with Todd.

“What? What were you going to say, Todd?” Neil gives in, turning fully in his seat to look at the lump on the bed which he assumed to be his friend now.

“Well, it’s just- I have some passages memorized from some books, so I could say those out loud to see if it helps you fall asleep,” Todd offers, his back still turned and his voice muffled. Neil wondered if the darkness made him speak more frankly and less calculated than usual. He honestly felt a little surprised at the offer since it seemed so out of his comfort zone.

“Why do you want to help me so much? Wouldn’t it be easier to just ignore me and fall back asleep?” Neil questions, his defenses running weak as he can feel himself near giving in. He was just so tired and didn’t understand why Todd was so willing to help him.

“Because we’re friends?” Todd asks as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Besides, you’re snippy when you don’t get enough sleep.”

Neil feels his face break out into a begrudging smile. “Okay, okay, I get it,” he says as he puts his notebook and pencil back, turning off the lamp to finally let them be encased in darkness. “I guess we could try your whole distraction thing.”

Settling in bed, it dawns on Neil that he has no idea what Todd wanted to recite to him. What passages had he memorized? After a few more beats of silence, Neil hears Todd shift to lay on his back and clear his throat.

“My Life had stood - a Loaded Gun - / In Corners - till a Day / The Owner passed - identified - / And carried Me away -” his voice recants gently, almost sounding musical through the quiet air between them. 

Oh, Neil thinks to himself, so he had some poetry memorized. It made sense for Todd. As he got further into the poem, Neil made a mental note that he would have to ask Todd what poem he was reciting when he woke up later since he liked it so much.

To his surprise, Neil felt his eyes growing heavy after a few minutes as Todd continued reciting more and more lines. He’s pretty sure that he’s quoting multiple poems in a row instead of one grand epic, but all of the lines blur together as Neil feels himself drift off.

Just an hour later, Neil blinks his eyes open to find Todd shaking his shoulder. 

“Come on, we’ll be late for breakfast,” Todd says sleepily before walking back to his side of the room to get ready.

So the poetry had worked? So much so that Todd had to wake Neil up instead of vice versa? 

Getting up and preparing for the day, Neil made a mental note of how he needed to thank his friend later for seemingly solving his month-long problem with just a few lines of poetry.

“Oh my god, why do we have to be applying to colleges so early again? My dad didn’t have to do this shit,” Charlie complains yet again as he splays his arms across the table in defeat.

All of the poets are crowded onto their usual study table, but now a ton of packets and papers are surrounding them as they shuffled through college applications.

“Because early admission is a thing now? The best way to get into any of the ivy leagues that we want to get into is through applying now,” Cameron explains as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. In Charlie’s defense, Neil swears he heard Todd mutter about how he didn’t even think his older brother had to do this.

“But the school year just started!” Charlie laments almost petulantly, now face-down on the table with his arms still stretched to the other side.

“It’s been a month since the semester started,” Pitts says in response rather monotone.

“Come on, Charlie. You’re acting like you don’t already have the colleges hand-picked for you,” Meeks points out as he gestures to the Yale packet in front of him.

“That’s not my issue here; it’s the fact that this is supposed to be our last year of freedom before having to go to college and become adults, and we’re spending it preparing for college,” Charlie defends, now rising from his defeated position to counter Meeks.

“Like Hellton is so free,” Neil comments with an amused eye roll. Sure, it wasn’t like military boot camp, but Neil would never go so far as to describe this rigid academic fortress as anything freeing.

“Yeah, honestly, I think we’ll have more freedom in college than here,” Knox tacks on from his corner of mounted packets. “Just think of it: you’ll be able to pick your own schedule, your own extracurricular activities, you’ll be living further away from your folks, you don’t actually have to show up to class if you don’t want to, and not to mention, there will be girls in whatever city you go to.”

“There’s girls in this city right now,” Todd pipes up despite looking particularly stressed behind all of his applications.

“Yeah, yeah, but we have curfews and rules here; Harvard doesn’t give a shit if you’re out late at a party,” Knox waves off, indicating wordlessly that his failure with women, Chris included, is only due to Welton and not his own charms.

“It’s not about the freedom,” Charlie butts back in as if it was criminal that the conversation moved on from his moaning. “It’s the principle of it all. Doesn’t it feel weird that we’ll all be adults soon? I don’t want to think about that shit, I want to just enjoy my last year being unable to be arrested.”

“I don’t think–” Meeks begins to counter, most definitely about to go into an explanation of the American justice system and how it treats minors when it comes to various crimes before he’s cut off.

“Whatever, Meeks, you know what I’m trying to say,” Charlie groans before falling down into the table face down yet again.

A few minutes follow the end of the conversation, all of the Poets being too busy stressing about their applications to keep up the usual banter they had when studying.

“It’d be pretty cool if we all ended up going to the same college,” Knox voices a few minutes later, seeming to have given up on his application and now daydreaming. The thought is a nice one, Neil agrees internally as he imagines all of the Poets taking on the world in a big city and struggling through ivy league courses together.

“Yeah, fat chance. We’ve all got our lives laid out for us and they’re all pretty different careers in different places,” Cameron laughs out dryly, seeming at peace with his fate and maybe even happy about it.

And Neil knows he shouldn’t entertain the idea, knows it’s stupid given his track record, but he can’t help but lean in conspiratorially. “What would you want to do if you had the chance to choose, though?” he asks with his eyes shining, looking around mischievously since he knew he just asked something impossible.

“Oh come on–” Cameron starts to complain as he rolls his eyes before he’s cut off.

“Easy, I’d be a radio sports announcer,” Charlie answers, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Really? They’re paid like shit, though,” Meeks questions, joining in with engaging in Neil’s impossible conversation.

“Neil asked what we wanted to do if we could choose, and I’d want to be a sports announcer; doesn’t matter about money in this hypothetical. Besides, don’t I have the voice for it?” Charlie explains, impersonating the lilt of a baseball announcer at the end.

“You sure do talk a lot,” Knox comments to the side.

“I mean, you definitely have a face meant for radio,” Pitts tacks on, earning a few snickers across the table.

“Okay tough guy, what would you do?” Charlie deflects onto Pitts now, crossing his arms and leaning back as he stares at him.

“I don’t know, Hollywood always sounded cool to me,” Pitts shrugs, clearly not having entertained the idea much, most likely because there was no chance of it anyway.

“So you’d want to go to the west coast to, what? Be in some Elvis pictures?” Knox asks, his face screwed up like he never imagined such dreams from Pitts.

“No, not that. I wouldn’t want to be in front of the camera; I’d want to understand how it’s all made behind the scenes. Editing sounds pretty cool to me,” Pitts explains, seeming a little embarrassed at all of the eyes on him as he explained his dream. Neil had never even thought about that being a job.

“Well, I’m assuming Neil would want to star in your movies then, right Perry?” Charlie asserts, looking over at Neil to confirm this. 

Tensing, Neil wonders how much of the truth he should tell them. He guesses he doesn’t have to tell them that he’s writing a play or anything, can just entertain the futile hopes of a different life for now while they’re doing it.

“Actually, I don’t think so,” Neil admits while shaking his head. “I think I’d rather be on Broadway. Having the instant rush of an audience clapping and cheering right after a performance sounds better for me.”

There’s a few beats of silence as the rest of the Poets nod along as if this makes perfect sense for Neil. “Well, Meeks, what about you?” Neil asks once he sees the conversation start to dip. He really wanted to know everyone’s passions before they moved along; they weren’t often so frank with one another when it came to more gushy topics like their hopes and dreams.

“I’d probably want to get into a field of science that isn’t conventional, but my parents would never back that up since so many are too new to know if they have any merit. Radio astronomy has always intrigued me,” Meeks starts to explain, seeming to have thought about this a considerable amount. It makes Neil’s gut pang to think of Meeks wanting something he can never have so badly.

“I’ve heard the words ‘radio’ and ‘astronomy’ before but never together,” Knox comments, seeming to be trying to call Meeks on his bullshit.

“I can give you an in-depth explanation if you really want me to–”

“No!” practically everyone in the group startles out, already too overwhelmed with the college applications in front of them to learn about a whole new science with Meeks right now.

“I take it back, I believe you,” Knox appeases pleadingly.

“What do you even want to do anyway?” Meeks follows up, clearly not taking any of Knox’s shit.

“Uh, I don’t know,” Knox starts but speeds up once he sees Meeks starting to scoff. “I mean, I used to never really know what I wanted to be besides all of the basic things like a doctor, baseball player, president, that kind of stuff.” The group chuckles a bit at the idea of Knox as the president, but he continues speaking regardless. “But with Mr. Keating, I don’t know, being a teacher looks like a pretty good gig.”

Although Meeks was geared up to rip his choice into shreds, he can’t help but nod along thoughtfully to Knox’s answer since it was pretty good. Mr. Keating had definitely changed all of their lives in one way or another, so teaching had transformed from this reprehensible job in their minds to a well-respected one.

“What about you, Todd? You’d be a pretty good teacher if you weren’t so shy,” Charlie cuts in, directing the attention to the blond boy at the table.

“Uh, I don’t–” he starts to stutter out.

“Come on, he would obviously be a poet,” Meeks cuts him off as if it’s a no-brainer.

“Would you? Want to be a poet, I mean,” Neil can’t help himself but cut in, wanting to hear from Todd himself what he wanted to do rather than his friends’ speculations.

“I guess so; it seems like a pretty good job. I just live out in the woods and write about whatever I want for a living,” Todd answers sheepishly, his cheeks only slightly pink from the discussion of what he’d be before. The rest of the Poets nod along since that seemed like a dream for someone as reserved as Todd.

Finally, all eyes turn to Cameron since he’s the only one who hasn’t answered yet. He hasn’t contributed to the conversation at all since he balked at the idea originally, and his face is buried in an application as they stare at him. After a few seconds of staring, Charlie clears his throat loudly to make him finally look up.

Cameron peeks his head from over his application before lowering it with everyone staring at him. “What? What did I miss?” he asks in a slightly panicked yet annoyed tone.

“What do you want to do?” Pitts asks for the rest of them.

“Um, accounting? That’s what I’m going to college for,” he answers as if it’s the dumbest question he’s ever received.

“Come on, Cameron. We mean, like, what you actually want to do if you could choose,” Neil says as he suppresses an eye roll.

“Like I said, accounting,” he answers in the same tone as before.

“Hey, slick, we all answered the question seriously, the least you could do is the same,” Charlie joins in, sounding fed up with Cameron’s bullshit.

“Look, it’s not my fault you guys all hate your futures and the jobs your parents picked for you,” he answers with his hands up in surrender to suggest no offense. “I actually like my life.”

“That’s such bullshit,” Knox comments with a bit of frustration.

“Come on guys, let’s lay off him,” Charlie says uncharacteristically. “We shouldn’t have expected for Cameron to have an imagination past what his parents say.” There it was, that usual Charlie bite of going just a bit too far.

The room falls silent, Charlie maintaining a smug smirk on his face as Cameron continues to fill out his applications now with an admittedly red face. Looking between them, Neil wondered how they could possibly share a room without killing each other.

As mad as most of them were at Cameron for chickening out on being vulnerable while the rest of them were, Neil had to admit to himself that Cameron was probably the smartest of all of them for suppressing his wants the most. 

Neil knew that letting hope persist in his rather planned-out life would only serve to eat holes in him in the future, yet he still found himself writing a play as if it would save him from his fate. What did he expect? To take it to some performing arts center and instantly be recognized as a genius? It was dumb to be writing in the first place, a waste of time distracting him from his studies which would get him into Harvard.

Glancing up at the table, Neil finds Todd already looking at him. Rather than turning away quickly and abashedly like he usually would, Todd continues to make eye contact as he starts shaking his head at Neil as if he knew what he was thinking. Was Neil that easy to read?

Breaking the eye contact and looking down, Neil tries to shove all thoughts out of his head in order to focus on his Harvard application. This was his future, and he needed to accept that. For some odd reason, though, feeling Todd’s eyes on him still made a bit of doubt bloom in his chest about his last thought. Maybe being a doctor didn’t have to be his future. 

“Would- would it be possible to… alter our agreement?” Todd's voice rings out tentatively from his corner of the cave.

They had been there for a considerable amount of time now, about halfway through how long they usually hid out in the cave. They had gotten into a somewhat normal groove of chatting on their way there, falling into silence once they were inside the cave, and then talking the whole way back amiably. So of course Todd had to break up that routine no matter how quiet he usually was.

Neil whips his head up to look at his roommate to make sure he heard right. They had literally one agreement between them and Todd wanted to change it?

“What? Are you just dying to know what I’m working on?” Neil teases, knowing that he could probably trust Todd with his secret but still not wanting to. There was the whole spillage issue, and besides, it was nice to have something that was his.

“N-no, it’s not that,” Todd rushes to amend, his face reddening a bit. “It’s actually about what I’m working on.”

Now this piqued Neil’s interest. He’s always the one who has to give his secrets away when he’s with Todd, and if his friend was going to admit anything, it was after relentless prying on Neil’s end. So hearing Todd now want to voluntarily tell him information was nothing short of a miracle in Neil’s opinion.

“I’m listening,” Neil tries to say nonchalantly although he can tell his eyes are shining. Hopefully he’s not scaring Todd off.

“What if I let you read some of what I’ve been working on,” Todd begins warily, causing Neil’s face to break out in an excited smile, “as long as you don’t ask what it’s for? Or any questions about it, really.”

“Okay,” Neil agrees albeit a bit too quickly for his nonchalant act from before. “It’s just- why are you sharing it with me now? Is there any reason?”

“You’re already breaking the agreement,” Todd laments with a small smile on his face. “I just need to hear what I have out loud, and I’m no good at reading stuff out. It can look good on paper, but I need to scrap it if it doesn’t hold up being recited, you know?” Todd explains a bit sheepishly.

And no, Neil did not know because he hardly knew what Todd was talking about, but also he didn’t want to push their agreement any further, so he just nodded along. “And because I’m the best performer you know?” Neil dared to ask in a hopeful tone, a smile on his face threatening to grow as he referred back to what Todd said to him all those nights ago at the second society meeting.

Todd rolls his eyes now, a smile still on his face and threatening to grow even bigger. “Yeah, yeah, you’re the best performer I know,” he gives in a bit sarcastically, starting to get up from his spot to amble closer.

The single paper he’s holding is wavering in his hand, Todd being obviously nervous showing Neil what he assumes to be a vulnerable part of him. Noticing this, Neil trains his face to be more serious and reminds himself now is not the time to tease Todd anymore.

“It’s- it’s not much, but I just wanted to hear it out loud,” Todd provides before practically jamming the paper into Neil’s chest.

Taking the paper gently, Neil maintains eye contact to make sure Todd isn’t going to throw up. Finally once he’s convinced his friend is moderately fine, he looks down at the paper and recites what he sees there.

“The rain is warm, descending slow / Do you feel the afterglow? / The lake breathes when your body flows / I’m tired of these soaking clothes,” Neil reads out in a slightly unsure voice, his heart hammering in his chest as he tries not to mess up.

Once he’s done reading the four lines that make up the paper, his eyes snap up to Todd who is nervously sitting nearby and chewing on his thumbnail.

“Todd, did you write this? Because it’s good! I mean like, really good! Maybe a bit short, but still–”

“I thought,” Todd says in a shaky voice as he gets up to retrieve his paper, “we had an agreement?”

Neil’s mouth snaps shut as he hands the paper back, not regretting complimenting the writing but regretful that he pushed Todd’s boundaries. It’s just, Neil’s been dying to read anything of Todd’s ever since the one class with Mr. Keating, and if this really was his work, Neil could not overstate how it was worth the wait.

Todd goes back to his corner of the cave where the light hits his hair just right – did he do that on purpose? Silence falls between them, and Neil assumes he went too far and that was the end of it. Still, it was incredible progress from Todd to share as much as he did.

“Thanks,” Todd finally says out of the blue. Neil looks back over to him and they share a smile before turning back to their own work.

So that was confirmation that Todd had written that. But what was he writing poetry for? Why did he need to hear it performed out loud? Was it just for himself? Maybe an extracurricular assignment Neil didn’t know about? Maybe Mr. Keating knew about it?

Neil has to shut his brain up, though, since he knows he can’t ask any of the countless prying questions his brain was inventing. Even if that was the only time Todd showed Neil anything of his personal work, he felt overjoyed to have been trusted enough to see it.

Glancing at his friend a few more times between working on his play, Neil can’t help but be haunted by the four sparse lines he was allowed to read. I’m tired of these soaking clothes. Neil wasn’t what Todd meant by that, but it resonated with him nonetheless.

Much to Neil and the rest of the Poets’ delight, Todd had made it a habit to bring a new poem to each of the meetings ever since they started badgering him after the first time. Neil was afraid it was just a fluke, that Todd would crawl back into his shell like he so often did, but luckily he kept bringing poems to the meetings even when they didn’t hound him for it as long as he never had to read them. 

Similar to his first two, they maintained heavier and darker themes than Neil would have initially imagined for his friend, but it slowly started to make sense to him if he really thought about it. Having lived with Todd for over a year now, Neil knew his roommate had issues with his parents especially when it came to his older brother.

It even made Neil angry to think about how they shoved Todd aside for their other son. Neil knew that it was why Todd studied so hard, why he pressured himself about tests more than most of them. He just wanted to amount to his brother Jeffery whether he would admit it out loud or not, and Neil wished he had a way to tell Todd that he was perfect as himself and anyone who thought otherwise deserved a foot up their ass.

So as the Poets took turns reading the poems Todd brought to each meeting, Neil understood more and more of what was going on in Todd’s head as more and more intense and heavy themes were hurtled their way. He assumed that this was Todd opening up to them the only way he knew how: through other people’s words. 

In response, Neil noticed that the rest of the Poets, himself included, acted more gentle around Todd. Of course they didn’t outcast him or treat him like a freak, but all of them kept their teasing and general jabbing nature toned down when their words were directed at Todd.

So with all of the previous poems they had read, Neil felt like he had a pretty firm grasp on what was going on in Todd’s head and what themes would be brought into the discussion for that meeting.

Which is why Neil’s eyebrows are creased now when reading the poem aloud for tonight, it being titled “Not Waving but Drowning” by Stevie Smith. As he recited the brief poem which described a man drowning from swimming out too far and no one noticing, Neil felt a jab in his heart when he realized there was probably still a lot more about Todd he had left to learn.

“I was much too far out all my life / And not waving but drowning.” The poem finished eerily with those words read by Neil echoing within the cave, and he’s certain the applause which usually immediately followed Todd’s selected poems hesitated for a moment before picking up.

“That one was a little dark,” Charlie is the first to jokingly comment, breathing out the cigarette smoke he just inhaled.

“Eh, you could argue it’s just a poem that uses dark imagery to establish its message,” Cameron counters, seeming to still be thinking about it.

“And what message was that?” Meeks asks, clearly suspecting that Cameron was talking out of his ass.

“Actually, I think the message relates a bit to the poem Todd brought a while ago about wearing a mask. It’s like… no one knew the guy was drowning because they were more comfortable assuming that he was waving,” Cameron tries to explain, taking his time as he develops his thoughts.

“So it’s kind of like someone who’s clearly not okay saying that they are after you ask how they’re doing and just taking their word for it?” Neil asks, feeling a chill up his spine not only from the cooler weather of fall seeping into the cave but also from how he related to the message he was slowly piecing together with Cameron.

“Exactly!” Cameron responds, glad someone was understanding what he was attempting to say.

“Wait, what does larking mean? The poem said that the guy loved doing it,” Knox asks out of the blue, still a bit skeptical of the meaning they were starting to draw from the poem.

“It means, like, messing around, right?” Pitts chimes in apprehensively. Cameron and Meeks nod along, verifying the definition he gave. 

“So this guy must have been playing the part of a totally happy, normal guy until, what? It was too late?” Charlie adds on, leaning in as he became more invested in deciphering the poem.

“I think–” Todd begins to say before the rest of the Poets rush to shush him.

Early on in Todd bringing in poems to read, they came to the consensus that Todd couldn’t reveal his understanding of the poem until the group was happy with theirs since the other boy was more versed in poetry and definitely had already figured it out. It had become a sort of game where they tried to get as close as possible to Todd’s analysis of the poem, so they were hushing him now since they still weren’t entirely happy with what they had come up with so far.

“We still have the people’s commentary within the poem to figure out,” Meeks points out, his hand resting on his chin as he ponders with one of the pipes they had smuggled, making him look rather comical as he took the poem so seriously.

“Yeah, what’s with the people saying his heart gave way because it was too cold and then the guy denying it?” Pitts adds on to the speculation.

“He never denied it, he said it had always been too cold,” Knox points out after a beat, holding the paper of the transcribed poem the Poets had been passing around during their discussion.

“It’s like- it’s like the people are blaming his death on one bad event, but he’s saying that his whole life was bad. So instead of one bad event killing him, it was the combination of all of the horrible things he experienced in his life but was never able to express,” Neil explains, hoping the color he is undoubtedly gaining on his face isn’t showing in the dim firelight. The meaning he was extracting from the poem now was eerily close to what he experienced after the play so long ago.

The rest of the Poets nod along with his speculation, none of them opposing it. After a few beats of silence, Todd finally pipes up.

“I came about to the same conclusion,” he admits, causing the rest of them to erupt into cheers for hitting the nail on the head.

The celebration causes them to break out into an impromptu jam session – which happened fairly often – as Charlie started crooning his saxophone while Pitts played the mouth harp as the others rhythmically hit the nearest items near them like drums. They marched and chanted in the cave before taking it outside, lasting a bit longer before they dispersed and ran through the woods back to Welton with laughter and echoes of the chant in the air between them.

Settling in his bed after turning off the lamp in their room, Neil finds his mind wandering over how the poem read tonight hit unsettling close to home. Does Todd feel the same way, like he’s keeping up a facade to make everyone else comfortable which is slowly killing him? Or was he calling Neil out in his subtle way?

Surely he wasn’t; after all, Neil was a good actor. He made sure he never let one of his acts fall away, whether that be the group leader, straight A student, understanding best friend, whatever he needed to play at the moment. It’s why acting fit so well for him. Although the night after the play last year was one of the worst of his life, he came back the next day as if nothing happened, and that was that.

He told his friends about the whole boot camp and acting agreement, of course, but he never revealed how bad it got that night. Neil had considered doing some unthinkable things that night, things that made him shut his eyes super tight to close out the thoughts like right now, but he would never admit that to a living soul. What mattered was that he was here now.

But with that conclusion left the unsettling answer that Todd was the one drowning. If that was true, all Neil wanted to know was how to save him.

“Alright boys,” Mr. Keating calls out on the field, visibly causing all of the boys in class to tense up since the last time they were on the field with him, he made them run within an inch of their lives - dramatic, but that's how Neil felt. 

Their classes with him after the running marathon had thankfully stuck to the classroom and were fairly tame, nothing more than pushing the desks aside to reenact some scenes, so there was a noticeable air of hesitation when Keating had asked them to get dressed in their athletic wear and meet him on the field earlier.

“Today we are going to be doing a relay race of sorts. I need you all to partner up into groups of two, alright?” Keating finally reveals, much to everyone’s relief.

And just like that, the class was alight with a steady buzz of conversation as everyone tried to find someone to partner with. Before Neil can put much thought to who he would actually want to be on a team with him in a relay race, he feels a firm clap on his shoulder as he hears a familiar voice in his ear.

“Me and Neil are partners so you guys can just go ahead and give up now,” Charlie asserts haughtily to the rest of the Poets who were nearby. All he earns is an eye roll from Meeks as the rest of them pair up.

Pitts pairs with Meeks, Knox pairs with Todd, and luckily Cameron finds one of the more bookish kids in their class to pair with. Soon enough, everyone has their partner and turns to Mr. Keating expectantly. 

Once all eyes are on him, he announces the activities he’s going to have them be doing for class today, receiving a fair amount of excitement from the class since all of them sound fun.

They do a fair amount of team building exercises with their partners, from learning how to both stand up at the same time with their backs pressed to one another and their arms linked to an egg toss – each team having to throw away their own messes so they wouldn’t get in trouble for littering the field with eggshells.

Finally, right when Neil feels like they’re about done with all of their activities, Keating announces their last exercise.

“Now, we will have a piggyback race to finish it off!” Mr. Keating announces excitedly. “Hash it out with your partner who you think will be a better runner and line up on the other side of the field.”

All of the boys are pretty evenly matched, but Neil opts to hop on Charlie’s back since he’s a bit lankier than his friend so they’ll go faster overall. He can’t help but laugh as he looks down the line, seeing Meeks clinging onto Pitts like he was afraid of falling off, Cameron struggling to hold up a kid about the same exact size as him, and Knox already making eye contact with him from Todd’s back.

“You’re going down, Perry,” Knox threatens jokingly as he spares a hand to run his finger across his throat before fastening it around Todd’s neck again. Todd laughs a little at the trash talk before turning his focus back to the field.

Neil raises his hand to make a rather crude gesture at Knox in return, but that’s when Keating blows the whistle for the race to begin, apparently having announced the race while Neil was too busy laughing at his friends. 

Of course Keating chose that inconvenient time to set off the race, causing Charlie to sprint while Neil wasn’t ready, his hand flapping wildly and searching for purchase, eventually latching onto his friend’s face.

Without his vision, Charlie stumbles and steers off course for a few seconds before Neil finally settles back into place. They’re cursing one another out between their laughter, the other Poets and some class members laughing as well as they all struggled to race one another.

No matter how hard Charlie ran, though, he couldn’t make up for Neil’s fumble and they ended up last. Charlie practically hurtles Neil off of his back once he crosses the finish line, and everyone else is laughing and joking around about the race.

However, they fall silent as Mr. Keating strides up to them now, his hands behind his back the way he did when he was often plotting. He looks down the line before settling on Neil and Charlie. 

“Mr. Dalton and Mr. Perry, you seem to have come in last place,” he says with humor in his voice as he smiles at them.

“Sure did,” Charlie says proudly between his puffs of breath, straightening his back and placing his hands on his hips while staring Keating down.

“Now, something I failed to mention to you all, class, is that last place will receive a failing quiz grade,” Keating says, his hands now in his pockets and his face impassive. Neil’s not quite sure what he’s getting at, his brows furrowing as he stares at his teacher.

“Don’t- don’t we get a do-over since we didn’t know the rules before?” Neil finds himself asking, his gut dropping at the idea of a failing grade on his record but his face not showing his panic yet.

“I’m sorry boys, but you should always be trying your hardest if there’s a reward or not. Life doesn’t come with rules,” he replies with almost a regretful tone, making it sink in for Neil how Keating was being serious. Sharing a look with Charlie, they both have faces of bewilderment which also seem ready to call out bullshit.

Before Charlie can open his mouth in protest, however, Keating is speaking again. “However, Mr. Dalton, I do have a proposal for you,” he says with a shimmer in his eye, causing Neil’s gaze to dart over to his friend. “Since I saw how Neil clearly messed you up at the beginning of the race, I’m willing to offer you a passing grade.”

“What about Neil?” Charlie asks immediately, not backing down from staring down their teacher.

“I’m afraid he’ll still receive a failing grade,” Keating says with a faint smile on his face. Where had this pleasure in failing his students come from all of the sudden?

As he stares at him, Charlie slowly crosses his arms across his chest as he leans back, seeming to consider the offer. His eyes break over to look at Neil for a second before turning back to Keating. “Then I’ll get a failing grade too.”

“No, Charlie, come on–” Neil attempts to talk some sense into him before he’s cut off.

“And why won’t you let Neil take the fall? I mean, he’s clearly the only reason why you were the last to pass the finish line,” Keating asks as he raises an eyebrow to Charlie. “Is it because you’re friends?”

“Well, yeah,” Charlie answers simply. A moment passes as the rest of the class witnesses the stare-off between Mr. Keating and Charlie. Neil’s just about to speak up about how this wasn’t worth both of them getting a failing grade before Keating breaks the silence.

“Well done, Mr. Dalton, you passed the test,” Keating finally appeases, a smile breaking out across his face. “None of you will be receiving a failing quiz grade today.”

A sigh of relief makes its way out of Neil that he didn’t know he had been holding in which is masked by the cheering of the class. Thank god he wasn’t going to have to explain a failing grade to his dad being due to piggyback racing.

“Now, since we don’t have much time left in class today, I’ll explain why we did these exercises instead of making you all guess as to why,” Keating says as he motions for them to huddle in.

“You all chose your partners because they’re your friend, I assume, or at the very least a pleasant acquaintance. Even if your partner was a hindrance to you winning one of the competitions like the race we just had, I presume most of you would have reacted similarly to Mr. Dalton even if it would have just been easier to let your friend take the fall and take care of yourself and your grades,” Mr. Keating explains while he looks around the group. Sparing a glance over to Cameron, Neil doubts he would have reacted the same as Charlie; Cameron would do anything to get a good grade, after all.

“Why is this?” Keating asks rhetorically before launching back into his lecture. “Because you all believe in looking out for one another. You do not believe it is a dog-eat-dog world out there; you think everyone can get along just fine.”

He looks over the class again, fixing his eyes on a few students before continuing with his point. “Raise your hand if you were disturbed by the scene in chapter 3 where Carlson shoots Candy’s dog? Don’t be shy now, you know I encourage personal opinions.”

Slowly, many of the students in the class raise their hands, all of the Poets included. There are a few who keep their hands down out of what Neil assumes is pride, but he knows that no one their age would be okay with the idea of putting down an old dog for seemingly no reason.

“And why do you think you were all disturbed by it?” Keating asks rhetorically once again. “It’s because no matter how cutthroat Welton makes itself out to be as an institution, you boys believe there is a place for the weak in this world. After all, it’s not like we kill the elderly once they stop working and serving the public,” he points out. “Even though Lennie is a hindrance to George with their situation considered, George refuses to give into the dog-eat-dog world he is surrounded with. He dreams of a place in the future where all of that violence can be set aside so he and his friend can just exist together. I want you boys to know that’s probably one of the strongest things George could have decided to do as a person, similar to how Mr. Dalton over here was willing to take the fall with Mr. Perry simply because he refused to give into such a cutthroat idea.”

He looks around at all of the students huddled around him now. Standing up, the rest of them get up from crouching and straighten to meet his eyes. “Keep in mind these battling ideas of a world kind to the weak versus a world that kills the weak as you read. Think about what you would do if you were in the characters’ places,” Keating states right before the bell rings. Once the sound of class ending sounds across the field, Mr. Keating merely nods his head and starts strolling back to the school. 

After laughing with the Poets about the whole debacle and telling Charlie he owes him one, Neil can’t help but think over the lesson as he falls silent while they walk back to the building. Was the world really as cruel as the book made it out to be, as cruel as Keating made it seem? Was this his way of preparing his senior class for the real world?

Finding himself once again laughing along with his friends on their way back to the locker room to change back into their normal clothes, though, Neil feels what’s probably a naive rejection at the thought. He didn’t have to spend his life fighting and competing with everyone no matter what the book wanted to make him think. If Lennie and George could have a haven away from the cruel reality of the world, why couldn’t he?

As the weeks passed by at Welton, Neil found himself finally falling into a groove that somehow made the insane workload possible. Thanks to Todd, his sleeping schedule was now somewhat normal; they had fallen into a routine of Neil waking up, getting up and nudging Todd in his bed, and then returning to his own as the other sleepily recited the poetry he had memorized until both of them fell back asleep.

Sometimes Neil wanted to stay awake and talk about the poetry, ask about where Todd read it and why he decided to memorize it, but Todd’s lilting voice in the night air always coerced him to sleep no matter how interested he was. He wanted to ask in the day once he was alert, but he could hardly even remember enough lines to throw a fully-formed question Todd’s way. 

Besides, he was afraid of bursting whatever bubble they formed in the early mornings which was full of nudging, sleepy yawns, and no judgment. It was odd but special, Neil could tell, the way they hardly said anything in the mornings and still understood one another so much. He knew none of the other Poets would understand; he felt like he hardly understood himself, but he was glad to have it regardless.

So thanks to Todd, Neil was finally not dozing off in class, at study sessions, or at Dead Poets meetings anymore. Classes went as usual, and in order to stay on top of the work, he usually spent his time studying during free time for three days of the week. The other two days were the ones where he and Todd would slip away with excuses and meet in the cave to work on their respective projects. Between that and his multiple extracurricular activities which took up the rest of his free time, Neil was somehow managing to keep afloat for now in the overwhelming ocean of Welton.

It’s been over a week since Todd shared his own work with Neil, but he still couldn’t get what he wrote out of his head. I’m tired of these soaking clothes. It was such a simple sentence, but it could mean so much, so Neil found himself analyzing the few lines of poetry he was afforded by Todd at random times in the day since then. But then again, maybe Neil was trying to assign meaning in places where it wasn’t.

He had been dying to analyze the lines with Todd the way they analyzed his chosen poems at society meetings, but they had an agreement. Neil couldn’t talk about it, couldn’t bring it up, couldn’t ask any questions. So of course he kept his mouth shut. But in light of Todd’s vulnerability, some ideas of his own started spurring in Neil’s mind.

In all honesty, Neil really needed another pair of eyes on his play. He couldn’t tell if it was actually good or if he had built it up to be something incredible in the echo chamber of his mind. Mr. Keating would probably be the best person to give it to if he wanted constructive feedback, but he didn’t want Keating to get any of the blame passed onto him if his dad ever found out, so that ruled him out.

Neil had come to terms with the fact that the play was something he would simply die with, but after reading that excerpt of Todd’s poetry, maybe not. Although Neil felt protective over his own secrets around Todd since they seemed to be sniffed out by him pretty fast, having his friend open up about his own secret first made Neil realize how they really were on the same team no matter what it was that they were doing. And out of all of the Poets, Todd could definitely keep a secret the best. 

Looking up from his corner of the cave, Neil’s eyes settle on Todd as his stomach flips a bit. Since fall was upon them now, Todd was wearing a dark blue sweater with some beige slacks, his beat-up gray Converse poking out of the hems on the end - Neil wondered why he kept those shoes when his family could clearly afford to get him some new ones. He was sitting where he usually did, but it was a bit overcast today, so the sun wasn’t setting his hair alight like it usually did. Now Neil had nothing to blame his lingering stare on.

“Can you look at something for me?” Neil finds himself blurting out, the back of his neck instantly feeling warm as Todd’s head snaps over to him. Fuck, he did not think this through at all.

“Um, sure. Is it your homework or something?” Todd appeases after a beat, simply blinking at Neil as if he’s confused. To be fair, Neil was probably acting more bashful than usual.

“Or something,” Neil kids since he wasn’t sure how he was going to classify what he was working on. “Can the- can the change you made to the agreement apply to me too?”

Todd’s eyebrows furrow as Neil stumbles over his words. He stares at him with an unreadable face for a good second before finally responding. “You want me to look over what you’ve been working on as long as I don’t ask any questions?”

“Yes, exactly,” Neil sighs out, appreciative that Todd is on a similar wavelength as him.

“Yeah, of course,” he replies almost airily except for a slight crack in his voice, putting down his notepad and pencil where he was sitting.

Now it was Neil’s turn to amble over to the other, his paper shaky in his hand as he got closer. Finally standing across from Todd, he realizes that he did not think over how he wanted to do this. Who was supposed to read whose lines? How would they both read if Neil only had one copy? How was he supposed to keep the whole play thing a secret when he was about to show Todd what was very obviously a script?

“Um, I didn’t think this through,” Neil admits, laughing to himself as he looks down at his paper nervously. He guesses they’ll just have to read it together, and he'll have to deal with Tod knowing that it’s a play. It’s okay, he can work with that; he knew Todd was working on poetry now anyway, so in a way they were even.

“I just, I needed to go over some lines so I thought–”

“Lines? Are you auditioning for another play?” Todd can’t help but cut in, obviously wary given the whole debacle which ensued after last time.

“No!” Neil rushes to say to wipe the disapproving look off of his friend’s face. “No, no; I’m… I’m sort of writing something, but I need someone else to go over it with me to know if it’s any good.” Neil’s scratching the back of his neck now, trying and failing to not come across as sheepish as he explains himself as vaguely as possible.

“O-kay…” Todd says after a moment, still apprehensive but seemingly willing to hear Neil out. 

A smile breaks out across Neil’s face as he takes this confirmation in stride, ambling over to Todd’s right side and sitting down next to him before the other boy can breathe a word of protest.

“I don’t have any copies, so we’ll have to read it together,” Neil explains as he scoots even closer, ignoring the heat radiating from Todd and how good it feels against the brisk afternoon.

Todd merely nods along, not sparing Neil a glance despite how close they were. Hesitating, Neil still holds the paper close to his chest. Right, he had to actually show the paper to Todd for them to read it out together.

“Okay, so, you can read for Alan, Kenneth, Carl, and William; sound good?” Neil asks, knowing that the names probably sound like a whole lotta nothing to Todd, but he nods along anyway. What he didn’t know was that Alan represented Meeks, Kenneth represented Pitts, Carl represented Cameron, and of course William represented Todd himself.

“I’ll read for James, Doug, and David,” Neil asserts so all of the Poets are assigned to one of them. James represented Charlie, Doug represented Knox, and David represented himself.

After much stalling, Neil finally holds the paper out so they can both read it. He had grabbed a piece from the middle of one of his scenes because he needed to hear their dynamic out loud to make sure everyone had about an equal amount of speaking parts, so a bit of the context was lacking. One of his lines is first.

“Come on, fellas, we have to stick it to the man some way! We can’t just let them assign us our extracurriculars like we’re in elementary school,” Neil reads out from the role of James; he usually assigned Charlie’s counterpart with riling up the group to rebel the most since that felt true to him.

“Y-you’ve been fine with being on the rowing team all this time, why choose to rebel now?” Todd stutters out since it was Carl’s line now. Neil had always seen Charlie and Cameron as a form of yin and yang which the rest of the Poets found themselves in between, so it made the most sense for them to start the argument.

“I don’t know, maybe because William wanted to be on the rowing team and the Dean said soccer would be better for him? What kind of bullshit is that?” Neil counters as James once again, putting some exasperation into his voice as he felt himself becoming the role despite how he was trying to avoid acting. He knew it was dangerous to play with fire like this, but god did it feel good to forget himself and fall into being someone else again.

“Wh-what? Me? Do not blame this insanity on me,” Todd reads as William, his stuttering now actually scripted rather than accidental. He sounds a bit stiff on his part, but he was obviously trying to follow the directions and emotions Neil had written on the paper, so he appreciated his effort nonetheless.

“Don’t you know that’s what he does?” Neil reads out as Doug now, making his voice sound amused but also exasperated. “James finds something to rebel against first and places the reason on something righteous later.”

“Hey!” Neil cuts into his own speech as James, layering his voice in offense.

“Doug does have a point,” Todd amends as Alan; Neil knew Meeks needed to work as the voice of reason when it came to arguments since that’s what he usually did anyway. “You never gave a shit before, and even William doesn’t have a problem with being on the soccer team.”

“Is that true, Will?” Neil follows up as David. He knew his own speaking parts couldn’t be lacking since he did talk a lot realistically, but he figured he could allot the time to himself when there was a dip in the conversation.

“Is what true?” Todd reads out as his own character, unbeknownst to himself. It almost makes Neil smile at how he’s accidentally getting the tone perfectly like how he imagined it would be when writing the scene.

“Do you have a problem with being on the soccer team?” Neil repeats as his character David. The paper goes in depth about the eye contact he and Will make here, but he ignores physically acting it out since their eyes are glued to the paper already.

“Well, of course I do–”

“Then we have a reason to execute the plan!” Neil cuts him off boisterously as James, trying to emulate the same way Charlie makes such proclaimations.

It’s the last of William’s lines, but there’s still a description of him shaking his head in amusement and a description of his golden hair for some reason – what the fuck? Neil thought he had cut out all of the unnecessary descriptions of how Todd looks when he was refining his play, but he guesses he forgot that he could still accidentally write them going forward from there.

Feeling his face redden, Neil just wants Todd to read out his next line so they could get on with the scene, but he’s not. Turning to look at him with amusement taking up his face, Neil clears his throat.

Todd’s head whips up to meet Neil’s eyes, it just now occurring to him how close they are as he’s able to make out the ridges in Todd’s blue eyes. Fuck, this was exactly his problem; that was not a normal thing to notice about a friend.

A tense moment passes before Neil can remember what he was going to say. “It’s your line,” he supplies simply. Todd stares at him for a beat before tearing his eyes away and jolting back into action.

“Oh, right. I forgot I was Kenneth too,” he explains as he keeps his eyes glued to the page Neil was holding between them. Hopefully he couldn’t see how he was shaking.

“Um, what even is the plan?” Todd finally reads out as Kenneth, stumbling a bit over his line again.

Seeing as that was all Neil had written on the page, he snapped it close to himself again like he had it before. Great, now Todd knows he’s writing a play about them, and a shitty one at that. Why did he bring it over to be read out loud in the first place? Why didn't he at least screen it first?

Right before he gets up, he hears Todd’s voice ring out next to him. “So you’re writing a play?” he asks tentatively. Neil merely nods his head. “About us?”

Neil didn’t know how to respond to this. It obviously was about them, but if he confirmed that, then it wouldn’t be too hard for Todd to guess who Neil had written the whole in depth blond description of.

Getting up now because he can’t take being close to Todd and smelling his aftershave anymore, Neil answers as he ambles away. “That’s a bit presumptuous of you,” he says as he can’t help but smile on his way back to his spot since he knows he’s being a shithead.

As he settles back into his corner of the cave, a safe distance from Todd, he looks over to his friend who is performing an eye roll just for him, a smile on Todd’s face despite the annoyance he’s trying to emulate. Neil would have to teach him how to act better if that was sincerely his best attempt at seeming frustrated.

After turning back to their own work, Neil feels a little less like crawling into a hole and dying. Sure, maybe the play still sucked, but Todd obviously didn’t hate it enough to act freaked out by it. That had to count for something.

“It was good, by the way. The play, I mean; I really liked what I saw,” Todd’s voice rings out through the silence quietly. So he did like it? Neil didn’t have to light all of his work on fire and resign himself to being a doctor for the rest of his life?

“I thought we had an agreement,” Neil can’t help but assert with a smile, his speech mirroring what Todd said when he first tried to compliment him on his poetry. He can hear Todd’s scoff from across the room, but he can tell he’s smiling even though he’s not looking at him.

And just like that, their agreement has changed and they both knew each other’s secrets. Of course Neil had no idea why Todd was writing poetry – self fulfillment? Extra credit for Keating? – and Todd had no idea why Neil was writing a play about them, but Neil could feel the atmosphere shift in the cave after they read an excerpt of his play. Now, they were hiding secrets together instead of from one another. 

Sparing one last glance towards Todd, Neil can’t help but wonder if this new agreement between them would soon shift once again like it did before. Maybe keeping secrets together would only lead to more secrets, but Neil was willing to take that risk. Anything to get to know Todd better.

Chapter Text

“Boys, settle down and stay in your seats,” the history teacher, Mr. Brown, warns at the head of the bus, standing threateningly with his arms crossed as if to further establish the merit of his warning.

With an eye roll only the Poets could see, Charlie sits back down next to Knox, the rest of them stifling their giggles in lieu of him being reprimanded. Today was a very unique day for the senior class of Welton since they were taking a Saturday off from their extracurricular activities to go on a field trip to a historic museum. Sure, there was the catch of having to write a three page report on the whole trip for history class, but Neil couldn’t make himself care as he watched the beautiful bright leaves of autumn whiz by the bus window.

Todd’s sitting next to him in the window seat so Neil has to lean a bit into his space to catch the scenery, but his roommate doesn’t seem to notice so it’s fine. Across the aisle from them, Meeks and Pitts are sitting together while Cameron sits alone in front of them, and Charlie and Knox are sitting in front of Neil. Charlie had insisted on sitting closer to the back of the bus so they could get away with more stuff, which was clearly being proven wrong if Mr. Brown’s lingering glare was anything to go by.

As they joked and played car games on the way to the museum, even Todd seemed in high spirits at the venture they were making. To be fair, Neil was sure they were all feeling a little stir crazy at the fact that they were either confined to Welton or the nearby town which they could only go to with administrative permission. So it made sense that they weren’t the only group bumbling with excitement in the bus, a lively chatter consistently filling the tinny walls of the vehicle for the whole ride.

Catching sight of a plaque that read “Bennington Museum,” Neil figured they had finally arrived after a fairly lengthy bus ride. As they pulled up to the rounded driveway of the museum, he found himself marveling at the high gates and columns along the front of the building. He thought older buildings wouldn’t affect him that much since he lived inside of one for school, but Neil felt a similar feeling of awe from when he first started attending Welton years ago. 

Once a headcount was taken and Mr. Brown had given his strict speech about the group returning to the front at 12 p.m. sharp or else they’ll be left behind, the class was finally released to explore and learn in the museum. It felt like a ridiculously early time to leave for a field trip, but Neil decided to just enjoy the time he had now rather than waste his time filing complaints.

Grabbing Todd by his arm, Neil pulled him along as the Poets sought to separate themselves from the rest of the group. Sure, they would take notes and prepare material for their essay, but who says that they couldn’t go through the building in reverse order?

The whole group seemed to be laughing for no reason in particular as they fast-walked through the exhibits and halls within the museum, being careful to not run to avoid getting in trouble. Once they’re at what seems to be the back of the building, they finally break their stride and settle into the furthest room.

Finding themselves in a room full of old artifacts which consisted of commonly used items during the formation of Vermont, the Poets take turns posing behind the glass cases so it looks like they’re using the items to whoever was looking straight on. Some notable renditions were Charlie pretending he had an old-timey hat on, Meeks pretending to drink from an ancient teacup, and Pitts pretending to smoke a decrepit pipe.

While still taking sparse notes, they found other small ways to goof off like using their fingers to block out letters on the descriptive plaques to make nonsensical crude phrases. Cameron was the least amused by these antics, actually trying to read the plaques to write down some notes for the essay while Knox was perfecting how to transform “The Westminster Massacre” into the ever-clever “Westminster ass.”

Despite how weary Todd tended to be when the Poets goofed off in the rare occasion of them being in public together, he has no protests today as he giggles along with the rest of them, lending his hands to block out extra letters when needed and pretending to take pictures when one of them is perfectly aligned behind a display item.

After straying away from the history section and finding themselves in more of a historical art gallery, Neil finds himself immediately recreating some of the dramatic scenes and poses within the paintings with Charlie. Lagging behind as all of the Poets start to do this, Cameron huffs and taps his foot impatiently.

“Okay, let’s actually do the assignment now. You know, the reason why we’re here in the first place?” Cameron prompts them after the laughter dies down a bit. “We don’t have a lot of time left before 12.”

Despite their giddy moods, the Poets nod along and start to compose themselves. Besides, what more was there to do to procrastinate and goof off? Neil thought they had pretty much pulled out every measure by this point, so he begrudgingly figured it would be best to get started on their work. While all of them started to open their notebooks seriously, Charlie slipped away unnoticed until his voice broke the silence in the room.

“Oh my fucking god,” they heard Charlie say quietly almost to himself on the other side of the room, taking all attention away from Cameron and the assignment. As he turned back to face the group with his signature half-smile, the rest of them only stared back with a question in their eyes of what was making him freak out. “Fellas, there’s a wildflower trail.”

“Nope, no, no way,” Cameron dismisses immediately with frustration in his voice. “We’re not gonna go look at some wildflowers when we’re here to study and write an essay on the local state history.”

“But there’s some sculptures on the trail!” Charlie almost petulantly whines.

“You’re just proving my point,” Cameron reiterates as he crosses his arms.

“Art done by people here definitely qualifies as Vermont history,” Knox tries to argue, kind of having a point but mainly just wanting to give into Charlie’s antics.

“Nothing’s stopping you guys from going,” Cameron says with his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Just know that I’m not.”

“Sounds perfect to me,” Charlie snarks before opening the door leading to the trail. The rest of the Poets begin following him since they weren’t quite ready to start the assignment either, but Neil finds himself hanging back.

“Come on Cam,” Neil bargains by the door. “It’ll be fun; it’s not like you get this opportunity every day. Besides, after this we can split up and then share notes back at Welton.”

Cameron keeps his arms crossed as his lips form a line. “Split up?” he asks, seeming to actually consider his proposition.

“Yeah, that way we can gather all of the information without having to go around the whole museum ourselves,” Neil explains, a glint in his eye as he sees Cameron mull it over.

A few more seconds pass before he finally speaks again. “Fine,” he finally assents as he makes his way over to the door.

Neil smiles and claps him on the back as they begin walking outside, happy to have not left any of them behind. “Hey fellas, wait up!” he yells as he and Cameron jog over to where they were in the trail, Charlie and Knox rolling their eyes when seeing who came to join them while the rest smile.

Turns out going on the wildflower trail was a great decision, at least in Neil’s opinion as he can’t help but watch Todd marvel at yet another bright flower burning starkly against the dark soil of the trail. Charlie was leading the march and reading out information about the local artists on the plaques while the rest lagged behind, Neil and Todd at the back of the group since his roommate seemed to have suddenly become enamored in the Vermont wildlife.

Much to Cameron’s relief, the trail is fairly short and the group is back where they started about 15 minutes later even with Charlie’s slow pace. Neil turns to make a joke about how antsy Cameron was to Todd, but he stops himself when he sees Todd crouched down next to a yellow flower with a rather large stem. Stopping in his tracks, Neil merely watches his roommate stare at the bright plant before Todd seems to remember himself, standing up and straightening out his jacket as he starts catching up with the others.

Neil makes sure to turn away as quickly as possible once Todd starts standing up, shoving his hands in his pockets and resuming the casual stride back to the museum that he had before in order to not get caught. 

“You coming in?” Todd inquires as he catches up to Neil, now walking in stride with him.

“Nah, thought I’d light a smoke before I have to go back,” Neil answers casually, meeting his eyes with Todd’s and smiling when he pulls out a pack and a lighter from his pocket as he speaks.

Todd merely smiles and shakes his head before walking ahead of him to catch up with the others. “Don’t get caught; Mr. Brown’ll kill you,” he throws over his shoulder with gentle amusement.

“Since when am I the type to get caught?” Neil throws back right before Todd disappears inside, leaving him to wonder if he even heard what he said. Hopefully he didn’t since Neil didn’t realize the irony of his statement until it was out of his mouth, memories of the opening night of the play washing over him with a shiver.

Whatever, he could blame that on the chill in the air. Shaking his head to snap out of it, Neil reminds himself why he actually hung back as he stares at the door to make sure all of the Poets are back inside.

Pacing back to where Todd was crouched before, he reads a marker stuck in the ground identifying the wildflower he was previously marveling at: evening primrose. With the golden petals extending to almost form a square shape, Neil can see why his friend had been so enamored with the plant.

Looking both ways to ensure the coast was clear, Neil pulls a few of the flowers off of the billowing stem; the whole plant was too big to smuggle, so a few flowers would have to do. Once he has about a handful of them, he shoves them in his pockets and makes his way back to the museum so his absence isn’t too suspicious. 

Joining back with the group, they all agree to split up to divide and conquer since they didn’t have much time left before the bus would be departing back to Welton. As Neil stalked through the rooms and scrawled some notes onto his paper, he felt the flowers burning in his pocket as if they were some sort of secret.

However, making faces and playful smiles with the Poets across the exhibits when they accidentally overlapped and caught one another’s eyes allows Neil to laugh off the heavy feeling in his pocket and gut. Why would picking flowers for his friend be a secret anyway? Sure, it was a little odd, but the Poets always did small, kind gestures for one another wordlessly all of the time. It was how they remained true friends no matter how much they bickered and bantered.

Settling next to Todd once again in the bus on the way back to Welton, Neil feels a nervous smile break out across his face. He waits until the initial excitement of the field trip wears off and everyone is relatively quiet in their own seats before he turns to his roommate.

“Here,” is all he says as he opens his hand full of yellow flowers and pushes them towards Todd, albeit a little smushed from his pocket.

He feels his face become hot as Todd looks from his hand back up to him quizzically. “What is that?” he asks simply, a crease in his brow.

“Um, the flowers you were looking at before, evening primrose or something,” Neil says as he feels his ears getting hot, not having considered that he might have needed to explain himself. “I thought you might want the flower since you were looking for so long but were afraid to disturb nature or something like that, so I grabbed you some. But whatever, it was a dumb idea,” Neil dismisses as he feels his confidence waning under Todd’s confused gaze. 

How did he expect for this to go in the first place? Of course Todd didn’t give a shit about the flowers, probably just thought they were pretty for a fleeting moment and never thought of them again. He should have just forgotten about the whole thing like his friend apparently had.

As he starts to turn away and retract his hand full of flowers, Neil feels a hand clasp over his wrist. Looking down, he sees Todd holding him in place.

“N-no, no, it wasn’t dumb,” Todd rushes to say in a quiet voice, using his other hand to take the flowers from Neil. The contact of their bare skin in the exchange makes Neil blink rapidly. “I just didn’t think anyone, y’know, noticed.”

As nice as it was that Todd was trying to dismiss Neil’s embarrassment, his confession causes a hollow pang to Neil’s gut. Why did he always think no one would listen to him when he spoke, that no one would see him if he strayed away from the spotlight? Couldn’t he see how the rest of the Poets shut up when Todd so much as made a noise? For chrissakes, Neil couldn’t write a play about them without it revolving around Todd.

After Todd releases his wrist and returns to looking out the window, Neil takes the time to recoup and let his face cool down. He hated when he could feel the heat behind his cheeks. It’s probably a minute or two before he’s calm enough to coherently respond.

“When are you going to learn that you’re very much noticeable, Anderson?” he asks rhetorically, a smile on his face that matches the small one Todd has when their eyes meet again. Of course Todd does a whole production to notably roll his eyes at Neil’s statement as if to dispute it, but no amount of faux frustration can quell the swelling fondness in Neil’s chest.

“Catch,” is all Neil provides as warning before tossing a few papers to Todd as they enter the cave. It was the afternoon, and he and Todd had found yet another excuse to sneak off to the space to work on their respective projects.

Trying not to laugh, Neil feels a smile take up his face as he watches Todd stumble to catch the papers and not let them hit the ground.

“I think we’ll stick with the usual roles if that sounds good to you,” Neil says casually as he puts his bag down over in his corner of the cave. 

Over the course of the last few weeks, Neil had begun regularly sharing more of his play scenes with Todd so they could read through them and see what they sounded like once acted out. Todd had only shared one or two more pieces of his poetry since then, – all incredible and unforgettable to Neil – but it’d become some sort of routine for Neil to copy down his script twice so the two of them could recite a scene together. It reminded him of last year when Todd would help him with reading for Puck, but he tries to shove that idea out of his head when it comes up. Things will never be like that again, and it was probably for the better.

“Yeah, sounds good,” is all Todd responds with as he leafs through the papers previously hurtled at him. 

Given the amount of scenes they had covered, Todd more or less knew by now what the play was and who it was about, but he upheld his end of the agreement and never asked anything more past what he did when Neil first shared the script with him. Sometimes he would try to guess who was who for fun, but Neil would just shake his head and laugh in response.

“Unless…” Neil starts to say before trailing off, his mind whirring over an idea forming in his head. He must have a mischievous smile on his face given how weary Todd looks at him.

“Unless?” Todd repeats as a question, the papers limp in his hands as he stares at him with apprehension.

“Unless you really wanted to challenge yourself and take on the more daring roles,” Neil says with a smile as he completes the thought, which is immediately met with Todd vehemently shaking his head.

“Nope, I don’t want to challenge myself. I just read through these for you, remember?” Todd answers resolutely, continuing to shake his head in denial as he stands in the middle of the cave.

“Come on, live a little! Surely you’re tired of reading the same roles over and over again,” Neil tries to bargain, walking closer to his friend and gesturing dramatically to help his point.

“No, I actually enjoy my lines, thank you very much,” Todd retorts as he crosses his arms, causing Neil to roll his eyes in a joking way. He was ridiculous in how committed he was to his shell. Of course you’re happy with your lines, Neil thinks to himself, you’re playing yourself.

“Come on, we’ll do it just this once and then I’ll never bring it up again,” Neil abides while still fighting for his idea. In their recent readings, Todd had become more and more committed to acting out his parts as a result of Neil going all in, so of course he now had to see his reserved friend try to emulate a character as boisterous as Charlie. “Please?” Neil pleads as he presses his hands together in a begging motion, right in front of his friend now. He couldn’t help but wonder how Todd would play him.

After a few moments of avoiding Neil’s pleading eye contact and going red in the face, Todd finally sighed and gave in. “Fine, but just this once,” he appeases.

Neil lets out a victorious “yes!” before rushing over to his bag to grab his own copy of the scene. He imagines Todd rolling his eyes at his antics, but he’s sitting in his usual spot with an impassive face by the time Neil gets all of his stuff ready.

“So I’ll be Doug, James, and David in this scene?” Todd asks with creased brows when looking over the first page. He was probably realizing how much he was going to have to read, an idea which makes Neil want to burst out laughing before he contains himself.

“Yeah, and I’ll be Kenneth, Alan, Carl, and William,” Neil replies as he stands across from Todd but close enough to be able to play off of one another. 

The best thing about this new routine with Todd – besides seeing his friend come out his shell more – has definitely been the loophole it allowed for Neil to act. Of course he wouldn't go against his father’s demands given what a close call it was last year, but reading through his scenes has allowed a chance for him to try his hand at acting without really breaking the rules. It wasn’t like he was going to be performing this to anyone other than Todd anyway.

With how overwhelming senior year was turning out to be, Neil had found himself counting the hours until his next read-through with Todd since it allowed him to become an entirely new person. Even though he usually played himself and the more extroverted Poets, it was still a rush to forget himself as he tried to replicate Charlie’s cockiness or Knox’s lilt.

So of course he wanted to challenge Todd and see how he would play him and the other loud Poets, but he also wanted to try to slip away from himself into the shell that Todd kept himself in. What would he notice once he was in that role, in that mindset?

Todd starts to read out the first line before Neil abruptly stops him. “Anderson, seriously? You think you can give a good performance by sitting on the floor?” he asks rhetorically as he eyes his friend nestled in his usual spot, timidly reading out his line.

“I’m not trying to give a good performance, I’m just reading out the lines to help you out, remember?” he argues back, a frustrated tone underlying his voice. 

“Well it’s not gonna be much help if you give the performance equivalent to a talking rock,” Neil can’t help but comment, knowing he’s pushing Todd but also having a point. How could he know if the scene was dynamic if Todd read out his lines robotically? 

Looking at his friend’s exasperated face, he decides to backtrack. “I’m sorry Todd, I take it back. But could you please stand and read the lines with me? Please?”

Todd has his arms crossed as he looks up at Neil with a contemplative face, clearly peeved but still not completely reluctant. “Fine,” he gives in for the second time today, ambling onto his feet but staying in his corner of the cave. Neil’s smile widens as he thanks him, causing Todd to involuntarily smile back at him despite shaking his head in faux frustration.

“Close the door behind you,” Todd says standing now as James, the character for Charlie. He doesn’t put much emotion into his line, but Neil had also started the scene off in a rather ambiguous area so there wasn’t much Todd could do with what he had.

“Remind me why you called an ‘executive meeting’ again?” Neil reads as Meeks’ character Alan, trying to replicate the same exasperation he often has when he questions Charlie’s antics. 

“And why did you call for it to be in the attic?” Neil follows up his own line as Kenneth, Pitts’ character. He tries to reflect the monotone which so often coats his friend’s voice, proving to be a challenge since Neil tended to be expressive when he spoke.

“Because,” Todd says slightly louder now, still reading for James, “I have a plan that I need to execute.” He’s still awkwardly standing in his corner while Neil moves around slightly to get into his role more, but he leaves Todd’s stiff posture alone since he was already asking a lot of him.

“Which is?” Neil asks as Todd’s character William after a few beats of silence, trying to mirror the wary tone Todd so often had when Charlie was up to something. Seeming to have picked up that Will was supposed to represent him over the practice readings they’ve done, Todd looks up from his script to give Neil an offended look before turning back to his line.

“Which is the goal we’ve had all along, fellas. To get girls to be able to attend Welton!” Todd tries his best to exclaim as James, still sounding a bit lackluster and awkward in his delivery.

“What?” Todd immediately follows himself as Doug now, Knox’s character.

“That has never been our goal,” Neil follows up as Carl, trying his best to get Cameron’s frustrated and smart ass tone through his voice.

“Maybe not for a- a virgin like you, but us studs have actual priorities besides books,” Todd stumbles slightly to say as James, his face blushing a bit at the line. Not that Neil notices.

“I’m- I’m not a virgin!” Neil argues petulantly as Carl, stuttering on purpose since he knew how flustered Cameron got when teased by Charlie.

“Your hand doesn’t count,” Todd comments as Doug, seeming to smile at the line. Thank god he was actually finding this dialogue somewhat funny since that’s what Neil was going for.

“God knows you would be less uptight if that were the case,” Todd reads out as James once again, his smile increasing as he lets out a laugh delivering the line. Neil can’t help but smile along with him, biting his lip in an attempt to hold it back and stay in character.

“That’s not- I don’t- ugh!” Neil stutters frustratedly as Carl, knowing full well how Cameron’s brain short circuits when it comes to arguments.

“Anyway, back to the plan,” Todd says after some silence as James.

Slowly, Neil and Todd fall into the comfortable pattern of reading out the scene. Neil had begun their sessions a while back with incredibly short excerpts, single pages that hardly allowed for Todd to get a sense of the dialogue or the scene, but he gradually introduced more and more papers to them until they were here now, reading through about a three-page scene.

Although Todd’s delivery doesn’t change much between the characters he reads for, Neil swears he sees a shift when he plays David, his character. His eyes widen and he takes on a more sing-songy cadence to his voice, though it's still just loud rather than filled with emotion. Neil tries not to focus too hard on the way his roommate plays him as they go through the scene; Todd doesn’t actually know who is who, after all.

Sensing that Todd was finally comfortable towards the end of the scene and knowing that this was the only time he was going to be playing characters like James, Neil decides to challenge him one last time.

“So who’s in?” Todd asks one of the last pieces of James' dialogue, his voice raised but not nearly close to what Neil had imagined for the scene.

“I don’t know if you noticed this, Anderson,” Neil says, breaking out of the scene briefly to make his remark, “but the script says exuberantly.” He knows he’s teasing just for the sake of it now, but Todd takes the bait all the same.

“That was exuberant!” Todd defends, a smile threatening to break out on his face but still holding off.

“What you just said was exuberant! Not whatever James said,” Neil argues. “ This is exuberant!” he yells to make a point, finally causing Todd to laugh and cover his ears as if it was the loudest noise he had ever heard.

“Like this?!” Todd asks, now yelling at a similar level to Neil but still not quite as loud.

“Nope, like this!” Neil yells right back, trying to make his voice even louder because he was high off of the adrenaline of Todd being so uninhibited and carefree. “So who’s in?!” he screams James’ line to show Todd how to do it, reveling in the way his voice echoes through the small cave and how Todd laughs along with him.

“So who’s in?!” Todd parrots, his voice finally as loud as Neil’s and consequently the loudest he’s ever heard his roommate. Seeing Todd’s bright eyes as Neil finally nods in approval at his delivery, he tries to ignore the swooping feeling in his stomach.

“So who’s in?!” Todd continues to yell with a wild smile on his face, looking more uninhibited than Neil’s ever seen him. His screaming reminds him of when Todd helped with reading his lines last year, how they jokingly sword fought on the pier while yelling on the top of their lungs.

Seeing how much the screaming makes Neil laugh, Todd continues with it, changing his inflection each time. “So who’s in?! So who’s in?!” he repeats, causing Neil to start to shush him since he’s realizing now that he’s released a madman out into the world.

Defiantly, Todd attempts to yell one last time before Neil clamps his hand over his mouth to shut him up. “Half of the school will hear us all the way out here if you keep screaming!” Neil whisper-yells at him through a laugh, his cheeks hurting with how much he’s been smiling. He feels Todd’s face take on a similar smile beneath his hand.

In lieu of the silence after all of the yelling, Neil becomes suddenly aware of how close he is to his roommate, how his hand is covering his chapped lips, how he can make out the ridges in his blue eyes and feel his ragged breath against his knuckles. He startles away, putting some distance between them but still smiling and laughing as he does so.

“Still want me to give it my all when reading lines?” Todd asks with a teasing tone clear in his voice accompanied with a shit-eating grin, further shocking Neil even more today. It’s like the roommate he had last year, the one he read lines with and threw desk sets off of the building with, was finally back. He’s not sure what’s gotten into Todd, but he doesn’t want it to change anytime soon.

“Fine, fine, you win,” Neil laments, getting a sense that Todd would launch back into his screaming match if he didn’t. Todd does a victorious eyebrow raise before he goes back to finally sit down in his corner of the cave to work on his poetry, his face red and flushed from all of the screaming no doubt. 

Neil’s lungs feel like they’re going to suffocate his own heart as he watches Todd, not really knowing what else to call the swelling feeling in his chest other than fondness. He tries to quell the feeling by returning to his play and work on his side of the cave, but the shortness in breath persists. Hopefully it’s not permanent.

Looking outside of the class window to see the luscious trees usually surrounding Welton now naked skeletons of what they used to be, it hits Neil how fall was finally gone and winter was barreling in with the promise of the end of the semester. Although Christmas break had seemed so far away for so long, the date was now rushing up as more and more exams and projects were due. It was still a few weeks away, but the complete lack of any vibrancy outside the window was the first physical evidence Neil had seen of their waning time at Welton.

Snapping him out of his introspection of the rapid way time passed, Keating begins his lecture for the day. They had been going outside for their lessons less and less given the chill in the air, and this day is no different as Keating remains firmly at the head of the room, albeit walking around and sporadically talking about their assigned novel and a possible book report coming up.

“Now to the meat and potatoes of the class,” Keating says excitedly as he pushes himself off from his desk to go back to walking all around the classroom. “Do you boys remember our very first day talking about Of Mice and Men, even before we started reading it?” he asks, waiting for the nods in response to affirm him. “Who can tell me what we decided the title of the novel meant?”

Cameron’s the first to raise his hand. “We came to the consensus that it described how the weak were separated from the strong, sir,” he voices after turning back in his notes to what he wrote at the beginning of the semester. 

“Thank you, Mr. Cameron, our diligent notetaker. You would make a marvelous stenographer someday,” Keating comments jokingly, gaining some laughter from the class. “Future career possibilities aside, he is correct. You all decided that it must depict the power struggle between the weak, like the mice,” he says crouching down suddenly, “and the strong, like the men,” he says as he jumps up to do some macho poses. Neil finds himself easily laughing along with the rest of the class at the visuals Keating provides. “And what do we hear in chapter 4 about such themes?”

A few guesses are thrown around until Meeks pipes up with the right answer. “Curley’s wife calls Crooks, Candy, and Lennie ‘the weak ones.’”

“Exactly right, my boy,” Keating responds excitedly, pacing over to his side of the room. “What do you think Steinbeck is trying to say here?”

“That they’re all weak?” some meathead from the other side of the room guesses.

“Yes, yes, we know that. But why would he have Curley’s wife say this?” Keating waves the answer off before doubling down. A few guesses are made sporadically until Todd finally speaks up.

“B-because she’s a part of the group, too. They were all left behind. I mean, we don’t even get to know her name,” Todd points out, his face red and pointed more down into his book than up at Keating.

A smile slowly grows across his teacher’s face as he answers the question. If Neil had to guess, Keating was happy that Todd was finally starting to participate in class more, even if it was begrudging.

“Yes, exactly. No matter their differences, all of these characters are similar in the fact that they’re the ones who don’t fit into the majority. They are outliers, and here Steinbeck tells us clearly that they are the weak ones. Not only that, but they know it too, so they fight one another because the only thing worse than being a mouse among men is being the mousiest of the mice,” Keating explains, sounding a bit solemn as he paces back and forth across the front of the desks.

“Now, as you go forward reading the rest of this novel, I want you to keep these implications in mind and keep asking questions. Why are these four considered weak while the rest aren’t? What constitutes someone as weak? Will such a dichotomy even matter in the future since Lennie and George dream of a farm without all of these distinctions?” Keating presents as he holds the book up to emphasize his point.

“Consider yourself in their shoes. Would you be one of the weak, as Steinbeck calls it, or one of the strong?” he persists in his questions.

Oddly enough, Neil finds himself immediately labeling himself as one of the weak before he can think better of it. Maybe it was just the way his father talked to him, the way his sergeant officer had talked to him, the way every adult talked to him save for Keating; he just felt like a kid. Laughing off the idea in his head, though, Neil decides there’s no way he could be weak. He means, he’s going to be a doctor someday and make lots of money. That was about as strong as it got.

As Keating wraps up class, Neil finds it hard to get out of his own head. Why would he even think of himself as one of the weak for a second? What would even make him an outlier like Keating had pointed out about the weak earlier? There was nothing that made him different from his friends, after all.

Flashing his eyes over to Todd and then back to the front of the room where Keating was ending his lecture, Neil shakes off the thought of being weak one last time. He’s not exactly sure what made someone weak, but he was determined to not be a part of the group.

Being able to see his breath in front of his face when looking at it against the firelight, Neil wonders how much longer the Poets are going to persist with their meetings. He was thrilled that they had been so successful this semester, but he couldn’t help but wonder if their interest would taper off as winter rapidly approached the east coast, demanding for the beautiful autumn leaves to fall to the ground as the air turned frigid and cold. Seeing Todd bundled up in his sweater and coat and still rubbing his hands together for some warmth, Neil knew that he wasn’t the only one feeling the cold bite of winter within the cave.

Regardless, they continued on with the meeting as if nothing was amiss, which was more than fine with Neil. Over the last few weeks, he definitely noticed the other Poets putting more care and effort into what they brought to the meetings. None chalked up to be as good as what Todd brought, obviously, but sometimes they would even succeed in sparking some impromptu analysis within the group. 

Neil always felt his chest swell with pride when that happened to one of the poems he brought, but it had also happened for Meeks a few times and maybe Pitts and Cameron once. Charlie and Knox had yet to choose a poem which spurred discussion, but it was still obvious that they put more effort in now when compared to what they did during the meetings last year.

This week, Charlie seems to have brought a fairly lewd poem which follows the whole “seize the day” theme from Keating’s class last year, causing the rest of the Poets to snicker as he languidly performed his piece. 

“An hundred years should go to praise / Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze; / Two hundred to adore each breast, / But thirty thousand to the rest,” he reads out while wiggling his eyebrows and jokingly motioning to the picture he ripped out of some porn magazine and now had on full display as a “visual aid” for his poem. 

Although Charlie was joking around the way Neil usually disliked for the meetings, he can’t help but laugh along at his antics. He had to hand it to him; at least he did his research to actually find a poem that matched his humor and “visual aid.”

Once he finally finishes reciting his poem, he does a dramatic bow as if he just gave the performance of his life, the Poets clapping along and cheering for him and his picture. As Charlie was folding and putting away his porn, though, Cameron pipes up.

“So, what? You found a poem that used the idea of carpe diem to get laid?” he asks incredulously, looking around as if to make sure this was real.

“Pretty great, right? Who knew people were freaky even back in the 1600s,” Charlie conspires through his half smile, hitting the nearest Poet on the arm as he joked.

“I don’t know, seems a bit uninspired to me,” Cameron remarks, trying to undermine Charlie. Cameron could complain all he wanted, but the research Charlie had done still remained somewhat impressive. Neil’s not even sure how he found such a sexual poem in Welton’s library.

“You just don’t get it because you’re a virgin,” Charlie retorts back, sitting down in his spot and basking in the chuckles that follow his quip.

“I- I’m not a virgin!” Cameron shoots back defensively, immediately gaining some color in his face.

“Your right hand doesn’t count,” Meeks comments off to the side, earning a wave of resounding laughter. As the argument continues and Cameron tries his best to defend himself, Neil can’t help but find Todd’s eyes across the group. 

From the slack-jawed face Todd is returning when their eyes meet, Neil could tell he was also blown away by how eerily close Nail had gotten to replicating the conversation in his script the other day. While the rest of the Poets are arguing about Cameron’s sexual life, Neil and Todd burst into laughter that they both desperately attempt to quell.

As the rest of the Poets shout variations of “what?” or “what’s so funny?”, all Neil and Todd can do is shake their heads and dismiss their questions through bubbling laughter, not even knowing where to begin if they even were to explain the joke. Wiping the tears that formed under his eyes after he finally calms down from his laughter and moves on from the topic, Neil can’t help but love the feeling of having an inside joke with Todd.

Given that it was finally halfway through November now, the snow had begun to start falling over the school, an abrupt warning that the first semester of their last year of school at Welton was coming to a close. The snow wasn’t thick enough to bring anything to a halt, but it coated the ground evenly enough with a few inches as the trees almost seemed to shiver without their foliage.

Despite this weather, Neil still found himself trudging over to the cave with Todd to work on their respective projects. Admittedly, it was a bit crazy now to be going to such lengths for some privacy since he and Todd could simply work on their projects in their room given that it was now a secret they shared.

However, Neil had a sense that Todd also felt the same affinity for the time they spent in the cave together. It felt like a magical space where everything learned at Welton, everything taught by their parents, and everything from the outside world in general didn’t exist within those cramped stony walls. It felt similar to the bubble which was formed around them in the early mornings when Todd would recite poetry to lull Neil back to sleep.

He didn’t want to burst these incredibly rare and sacred spaces they had created, so he bit his tongue when he wanted to ask about the poetry in the mornings, and now he kept his mouth shut when Todd motioned for them to go off to the cave despite the snow covering the school grounds. 

Once they get inside the cave, their usual banter falls away as they go to their own corners to work. The space is a bit wet as the hole above drips water in since the sun was out now, lightly melting the snow. Luckily, both of their places remained dry so it didn’t throw a hitch in anything.

However, Neil quickly discovers that his corner is considerably colder in lieu of the wintery weather. It’s in the back of the cave after all, and there seemed to be a chill coursing through the rocks that he remembers admiring back when it was warmer out, but now they only sent shivers down his spine.

Glancing over to his roommate, he notices how the sun is hitting Todd in his spot like usual, almost acting like a spotlight through the hole in the ceiling. Despite how cold he knew his friend could get, he notices that he’s not chilled at all where he is, most likely due to the sun warming him.

Turning back to his work, Neil comes to the resolution to just ignore the chill running up his spine and Todd’s golden hair so he can work on his play. It’s not worth making them go back to the school if Neil was the only one uncomfortable anyway. After a few minutes of scratching out some scene ideas, though, Todd’s voice rings out through the cave.

“Neil, are you cold?” he asks, his voice sounding concerned but also teetering on amusement. Great, was he shivering loud enough to be audible across the cave? Turning to his friend, he notices the crease in Todd’s brow and the quirk on the side of his mouth.

“I’m fine,” Neil asserts stubbornly as he turns back to his paper, suppressing yet another shiver going up his spine. He could get through working here just fine; he didn’t want to burst their bubble just because he got a little cold.

“You know you can just sit in the sun next to me?” Todd asks rhetorically, his voice timid but also sounding like it’s passing through a smile. “You must be freezing over there; it’s nice and warm over here,” he provides once he sees Neil still begrudging the idea.

Seeing the nervousness in Todd’s offer and also not being able to come up with a viable reason to resist being warm, Neil finally gives in. “Yeah, okay, I’ll sit next to you.”

Grabbing his bag, Neil shuffles over to the spot next to Todd and takes a moment to settle down comfortably. He has to sit fairly close since the sun only provides a limited slot of space; it reminds him of when he sat next to Todd so they could read out his play for the first time. It was weird how quickly yet slowly time passed in Welton, how so much changed yet nothing at all.

After a few minutes of working next to Todd, Neil finally felt himself relax and ease into the close proximity. He had just gotten used to the smell of his aftershave when Todd turns to him.

“Um, I have some poetry I was hoping you would read out?” he asks after a beat, holding a crumpled paper close to his chest. Despite the awkwardness he felt at the proximity, Neil can’t help but drop everything and agree to read it immediately.

“Yeah, of course,” he offers back, jumping at any opportunity to read Todd’s work. Although it had almost become a routine for Neil to share what he wrote so they could run lines together, it had become a rare occurrence for Todd to share his original work, making his answer a no-brainer.

“Okay, this one is a bit longer than what I’ve shared before,” Todd explains, fidgeting with his hands nervously and avoiding Neil’s eyes. Neil merely nods along as his friend explains, not wanting to say anything to reflect how enthusiastic he actually felt right now since he thought it would scare him away.

Finally, Todd practically pushes the paper into Neil’s chest before turning away, incredibly reminiscent of the first time he shared his poetry with him. Lifting the paper so he could read it, Neil tries to lessen the shake in his hands as he begins performing the poem.

“Climb is all we know / When thaw is not below us / No, we cannot grow up in that iron ground / We’re all too sore for sound,” he reads out rhythmically, trying to memorize all of what he was reading as he recites it since he knew Todd would snatch the paper away as soon as he was done. “Bet is hardly shown / Scraped across the foam / Like they stole it / And oh, how they hold it / We nearly forfeit.”

Neil tries not to feel dismayed when he reads out the last three lines, wishing there was more even though this was the most he had ever gotten from Todd from before. “I’m growing like the quickening hues / I’m telling darkness from lines on you / I was too sore for sight.”

Neil hardly has a moment to absorb what he just read before Todd is taking the paper back, sliding it into a folder most likely filled with masterpieces he was too shy and insecure about to share with the world. Neil feels himself merely blinking at the other boy in shock while Todd avoids eye contact like it was the plague. He supposes they are very close since it’s so cold out.

“Thanks, you know, for reading it,” Todd comments after a few moments, almost seeming as if he was trying to get Neil’s eyes off of him.

Snapping out of his stupor, Neil finally turns back to his work as he casually lets out a “no problem” in response. He felt similar to how he had when Todd was forced to make poetry out of thin air in Keating’s class last year, but he couldn’t really think of a way to describe the feeling other than awe. 

“I think you should read your poetry out to the Poets at a meeting,” Neil can’t help but comment, feeling resolute in his idea although he knew it was way out of Todd’s comfort zone. The horrified look he’s met with when he looks at Todd causes him to backtrack slightly. “I mean, you should use a pseudonym and act like it was someone else’s poem. I bet they wouldn’t even know the difference between your stuff and Whitman.”

Unfortunately, not much of what Neil says does anything to lessen the repulsion on his friend’s face. “Are you kidding me? I would be a laughing stock,” Todd practically balks, sounding upset just at the idea of it.

Neil feels his eyebrows crease at his words. “Todd, I’m your friend, yeah? I wouldn’t suggest reading your poetry in front of everyone if I thought it was bad. I really do think it’s, I don’t know, special. Even Keating would agree,” Neil attempts to explain earnestly, now upset that Todd thought he was taking the piss. He would never do that to Todd, to any of his friends.

Todd’s face visibly reddens as his gaze lingers on Neil, and he turns away after a few beats. “I thought we had an agreement to not talk about our projects,” he attempts to assert coldly, but the shake in his voice gives him away.

Neil contemplates making a snide comment about how much Todd enjoyed guessing who was who in his play despite their so-called agreement, but he bites his tongue. The whole point of the conversation was to compliment Todd’s incredible poetry, but it somehow was twisted into a fight. Neil found it perplexing how his friend’s insecurities could warp his attempts at camaraderie into animosity.

“Look, Todd, I’m sorry. I really was just trying to compliment your work; I didn’t mean to upset you or break the agreement. We can just forget it, alright?” he says after a bit, offering the olive branch between them. He hated when they fought, especially when it was over dumb stuff like this.

“I know, I’m sorry, too. It’s just-” Todd begins to ramble, stumbling over his words before cutting himself off. Looking over to Neil, he takes a breath before continuing what he was saying. “Yeah, we can forget it.”

Neil feels a small smile start to build on his face. “Thank god; it would have been awkward sitting so close to you otherwise,” he jokes, lightly ribbing Todd with his elbow to emphasize how close they were sitting in order to soak in the sun.

A laugh is startled out of Todd as he curls away from the ribbing, and a light conversation flows between them before they finally settle back into their work. Once again, Neil can’t help but feel like he lucked out when it came to roommates. Sure, he and Todd had their moments, but they really could go from arguing to bonding within seconds. It was incredibly odd, but also incredibly them.

“Oh wait! I nearly forgot,” Neil suddenly exclaims, startling Todd as he turns to his bag to get something.

“Forgot what?” Todd asks once he gets his bearings after the scare.

Before revealing what’s in his bag, Neil turns his head to him and gives him a mischievous smile. “You have to close your eyes and hold out your hands,” he dares as he keeps the item he has hidden behind his back.

“Like that phrase has ever led to anything good,” Todd retorts monotone, a smile breaking out on his face as he startles a laugh out of Neil.

“Come on, just do it. Please?” Neil pleads once he stops laughing, tilting his head slightly to the side as he looks into his friend’s eyes. Once again, Neil realizes how close they really were.

Todd makes a show of rolling his eyes before closing them and holding out his hands, all with a smile on his face. The entire group of Poets probably had an eye rolling problem, but Neil personally justified it as fine as long as they never did it to authority.

Neil bites his lip as he hesitantly gets out what he had gotten for Todd, his second thoughts just now occurring when it was too late. What if Todd hated his gift? What if he already owned it? His brain kept providing possible situations which could come from this, almost all humiliating.

Before he can overthink it anymore, he places the book he had gotten for Todd in his hands. “Happy birthday,” he says cheerily, trying to not let the insecurity show in his voice.

Cracking his eyes open, Todd looks at the book in his hands. “Leaves of Grass?” he asks simply.

“Um, yeah, since you’re probably going to get that same desk set from your parents this year, I figured you might as well get something that wasn’t totally useless,” Neil jokes, causing Todd to laugh at the reference to the whole gift debacle last year. As much as he was joking, Neil doubted that Todd’s parents actually got him anything different. It made his heart pang to think about too much.

“You’re probably right,” Todd laughs out as he flips the book over and examines it. “Thanks,” he says more genuinely when his laughter dies down.

“Of course, I just saw it when I was looking at the local bookstore and figured you needed at least some Whitman in your collection,” Neil explains, scratching the back of his neck and trying to act as nonchalant as possible.

“Surprisingly, I actually don’t own this by him yet, so it’s perfect,” Todd comments as he flips through the book, soothing Neil significantly. Thank god he didn’t get him the worst gift ever and that he seemed to actually like it.

“So,” Neil conspires after a few beats of Todd reading through the book, “who’re you gonna vote for now that you’re 18?”

Todd rolls his eyes once again, a smile still on his face as he starts to put the book in the bag he brought. “You know the election already passed, right?”

“Ah, I see, keeping your political party a secret,” Neil teases, laughing as he receives a playful hit from Todd.

“Shut up and get back to your work,” he asserts after hitting him, gathering his notebook to undoubtedly work on more great poetry.

“Whatever you say, birthday boy,” Neil teases one last time before returning to his play, reveling in the slight laugh he earns from Todd at the comment.

Staring over his play, Neil wonders if he isn’t the only one writing about the Poets now. We can’t grow up in that iron ground. Who else could that be about if not their group? Is Welton the iron ground? Their parents? Both?

Neil almost wants to call him out on it, but he holds himself back. He could deal with being the sole analyst for Todd’s poetry for the time being if that meant he would be able to see more.

As they had previously agreed upon, Neil was required to call his father every other week to update him in his coursework, his grades, and his personal life – mainly to make sure it wasn’t getting in the way of the other two. Before the play incident last year, he was only required to call every month for a similar checkup that was less rigorous, but the increase in phone calls was yet another way how seizing the day one time further proved to affect his life in the future.

Neil liked to call his father between free time and dinner since everyone was preoccupied and it gave him a solid enough excuse to not let the phone call last past what was necessary. It just so happened to align well with his father’s busy schedule, so that was that.

No matter how much of a regular thing it had become, Neil still felt a bit shaky as he punched in his home phone number into the landline. It was his own father for chrissakes, but that didn’t really mean much past blood relation in Neil’s case. Considering his childhood, his father has always kind of felt like an authority figure he had to impress, more like a strict teacher than an actual dad. He can’t remember the last time he willingly chose to hug his father, but that's besides the point.

“Good afternoon, father,” Neil says cordially into the line when he hears the other side pick up. He had been reprimanded many times before for starting phone conversations with a casual “hello” since it wasn’t professional and would prove to invalidate him in work fields in the future, at least according to his dad.

“Hello, Neil,” his father’s voice replies rather monotone, sounding tinny through the shitty phone the school provided for all of the students to share. “Well, let’s get started.”

Following his father’s prompting, Neil launches into his usual performance of reciting his grades and statistics from his various classes. If he was making all A’s, which he usually was, then he would receive a pleased yet hollow “good job” from his father, and anything less was either met with a cold silence or a stern lecture. Neil used to get a small rush of joy at any approval from his dad, but everything felt hollow after the play. All he wanted now was to avoid his wrath.

Much to Neil’s relief, he has all A’s for the time being, although he was barely scraping out the grade in some of the classes. Mr. Keating’s wasn’t one of those, but his father still finds a way to comment on it regardless.

“I can’t believe they still let the likes of Keating teach over there,” his father mutters over the line after Neil reports his grade for English.

“He’s a good teacher, father. We’re reading Of Mice and Men right now,” Neil finds himself defending before he can think better of it. He just hated the unnecessary flack Mr. Keating already got, so his father piling onto that for no reason had his mouth running before he could remind himself who he was talking to.

“Excuse me, son, you will not talk back to your father like that,” his dad states into the line firmly, his voice raising and making Neil tense up behind the phone. “First you talk back to me and then what? You’re going to break our agreement?”

“No, no, father; I would never!” Neil rushes to say, panic overtaking him at the possibility of being pulled from Welton and shipped off to military school. He knew his father kept that threat looming over him in return for complicit obedience, but that knowledge didn’t make any difference.

“Do I need to come down there and make sure Keating hasn’t put you up to acting in a play again?” his father persists, his tone increasing in anger and serving to freeze Neil in terror.

“Father, I’ve only left Welton’s campus for academic reasons this semester, and I haven’t talked to Mr. Keating at all outside of classes; you can ask Mr. Nolan yourself if you don’t believe me,” he reassures hastily, trying his best to not sound like he’s fighting his father but also not wanting to be accused of things he’s not even doing. If he was going to all of this effort to not be acting in a play, the last thing he wanted was to take the fall as if he was.

“Do not make me remind you not to raise your voice at me, boy,” his father repeats heatedly.

“Yes, father; I’m sorry,” Neil appeases immediately, not wanting to test his dad’s boundaries since he was already on thin ice. Luckily, his immediate apology somehow seems to get his father off of his case and back into good spirits despite the temporary derailing of the conversation.

"Of Mice and Men, you say?” he asks after a beat. “I suppose that’s better than that homo poetry he had you reading last year,” his father says with an audible smile, as if he’s saying a joke to himself. Neil feels his gut drop at his wording, though he doesn’t know why. His dad often threw words like homo, queer, fairy, degenerate, and faggot around when he was joking, but the edge the words seemed to have in his voice was always all-too apparent to Neil.

“The poetry we read last year was a part of the Welton curriculum, father,” Neil attempts to reason while still keeping his tone as neutral as possible. 

“I suppose you have a point, but I heard all about his… queer teaching style,” his father replies, luckily not perceiving what he said as talking back to him. “Did he choose the book for this semester? It is one of Steinbeck’s queerest for sure,” his father brings up once again, the smile back in voice as if this was a part of his running joke. It made no sense to Neil why his father would actively make such jokes and accusations when Mr. Keating had a wife, but he had given up on trying to understand him years ago.

After a shaky intake of breath, Neil gains the strength to respond as normally as possible. “I’m not sure, father, I would have to ask if he chose it or not.”

“You do that, son, and let me know the next time we call. I have to get going now. Keep your head up and your nose in your books, you hear me?” his father says rather passively as if his mind was somewhere else. He couldn’t even focus on his son for this brief amount of time they talked.

“Yes, sir,” he answers obediently, and shortly after the line goes dead. He should probably feel a hollowness where most kids exchanged “I love yous” with their parents at the end of a phone call, but Neil just feels a sick feeling of relief once the call is over.

Somehow, each interaction with his dad increasingly felt like an interview for a very important job, and one wrong answer could get him blacklisted from what he wanted in the future. Maybe he would feel a hollowness in his gut from the absence of love from his father if he really looked for it, but Neil's sad enough as it is without acting, in all honesty.

Dinner was soon, he knew that, but something about today’s phone call really shook him up. Maybe it was his dad’s threats to take him out of Welton, maybe it was his unnecessary jabs at Mr. Keating, maybe it was the cutting words he used followed by his hollow laughter. Either way, he just needed to get away, but he knew it was stupid and impossible to go all the way out to the cave by himself at this time of night.

Opting for the next best option, Neil finds himself climbing up the staircase which leads to the roof of the building, admittedly an area the students probably shouldn’t have access to. He’s not even sure if the likes of Mr. Nolan knew that some kids could get up here, if Pitts’ and Meeks’ radio that he spots upon getting on the roof is anything to go by. 

Sitting on the ledge to look out to the lake, Neil realizes that he came out ill-prepared for the cold weather encasing Welton. He knew it was practically winter now, but it was abundantly apparent as he saw his breath as he attempted to breathe some warmth into his hands. 

Not wanting his thoughts about his dad to linger, Neil finds himself fiddling with the radio next to him, sliding on the headphones since he figures his friends wouldn’t mind. After hearing the radio crackle to life, a song slowly fades into the forefront of the noise which sounds slightly older than what Neil was used to catching on the radio in the car.

Regardless, the subtly cheery tune of the music paired with smooth harmonies works to ease his mind from his father just as well as any other song would. However, through trying to focus on the lyrics to get his mind off of the whole phone call, he can’t help but notice the cheery tune give way to a rather somber song about being bound to hurt the ones you love the most. He wonders if that applies to his father, if he hurts him so much because he actually loves him so much? It seemed counterintuitive, but also what did he know about being a father?

As he feels his mind spiraling to these thoughts, he hears the door to the roof open in a muffled sound through his headphones, promptly snapping him out of his stupor to give full attention to the intrusion. Given how there was no getting out of it if it was Nolan or another staff member which found him up here without permission, Neil mentally plans on just jumping off the roof and hoping for the best. It’s guaranteed that he would die, but that would probably be better than whatever wrath he would have to face from his father if he was caught.

Fortunately, his premature plans of suicide are cut short when Todd’s frame becomes visible from the doorway. At least he was yet to be caught by anyone who would get him in trouble.

“Neil, what are you doing up here? You’re gonna get a cold,” Todd says with a creased brow once his eyes land on him, pacing up to sit next to Neil on the ledge. Maybe he sensed that Neil wasn’t planning on leaving this spot anytime soon.

“You act like missing a few days of class isn’t a blessing,” Neil jokes as he crosses his arms, tilting his head as he makes eye contact with Todd across the radio separating them.

“Were you listening to the radio?” Todd decides to ignore his joke to ask about the situation, taking note of the headphones around his neck. Without getting a chance to say anything, Todd is already reaching for the second pair and putting them on.

Neil decides to mirror him, discovering that they were catching the end of the song he was listening to before. They sit in silence for a while as they wait for the radio host to introduce the next song, his grainy voice announcing “La Vie en Rose” by É dith Piaf before some crooning trumpets overtake his speech. Once the woman starts to sing, it strikes Neil as odd for the station to be playing French music.

“I guess it’s oldies night,” Todd murmurs with a smile, angling his headphones now to where he would be able to hear Neil if he decided to talk.

“You know this song?” Neil asks, a smile threatening to overtake his face as he sees Todd almost serene as the woman continues to croon in their ears.

“Of course, my mom loves it. I guess it reminds her of when she was young,” Todd muses, his distant look indicating that he was probably reminiscing on a memory. 

Neil wished his parents had any passion for music, but his house was often silent. The only way he would be able to hear any music was either at church or in the car, and even then his father usually changed the station to listen to classical music or sports announcers. Music was a piece of culture that often made Neil realize how left behind he was in some aspects of his life due to his parents.

He must be staring off into space because Todd clears his throat to get his attention. “Come on, we’ll miss dinner,” he says gently, seeming to sense that Neil wasn’t in the best headspace at the moment.

“You go,” Neil says, feigning a smile so his friend wouldn’t worry about him. “I accidentally snacked too much during free time.” He didn’t like lying to Todd’s face, but he also wanted some time alone in relative silence and knew Todd wouldn't relent if he knew Neil hadn't eaten since lunch.

“You need a coat or something, it’s freezing out here,” Todd comments, not challenging Neil’s lie but also not giving up so easily.

“You’ll miss dinner if you stay here to keep nagging me,” Neil tries to joke lightheartedly, but it ends up coming out flat. Great, now he sounded like a dick.

“Did- did something happen?” Todd asks, his gentle demeanor from before giving way to the worry in his creased brow.

Neil feels himself freeze at the shift in the conversation, causing him to break eye contact with Todd to stare out at the lake. This was safe, looking at the pink sunset reflecting off of the silver water.

Todd lets his silence last for a bit longer before breaking it again. “Phone call with your dad?” he asks, hitting the nail on the head. Logically, it made sense for Todd to deduce this since he was aware of the phone call schedule Neil had to uphold, but it still scared him how see-through he felt around Todd sometimes. He wonders if he would know when Neil was purposely hiding a secret from him, if Todd would be able to clock him the way he so often does?

Neil knows he should say something to dismiss the idea since silence is essentially confirming Todd’s suspicions, but he can’t bring himself to say anything since he’s scared there might be a shake in his voice. His eyes involuntarily welled up at the mention of his father, but he willed those away by intensifying his stare out to the lake.

He can tell that Todd wants to console him, can feel the apology on the tip of his tongue, but Neil’s glad that he holds it back as the silence stretches on between them, the French lady’s crooning the only sound in the air. Because in reality, what more was there to say? They both had shitty fathers, both had shitty home lives, so how could they pretend to hold the answers when they both knew the other was just as clueless as them?

Any apologies would be inevitably hollow, and everything else about their parents had already been said at one point or another during their year of knowing one another. Neil’s just glad that his roommate understood that, keeping his mouth shut as he stared out at the lake with him.

As the song comes to an end and descends into a repetition of “la la la’s” that Todd subtly nods his head to, Neil feels the same feeling he had when he gave Todd the wildflowers and when he had to shush him from yelling so loud bloom in his chest once again. This time, though, the feeling is so overwhelming that he finds it hard to breathe, the unidentified emotion seeming to seize his lungs.

For a few moments, he considers needing to go to a doctor, but he quickly shakes that off once he can get a gulp of air in. He was fine. Whatever feeling that was overwhelming him now would soon pass like it did on the bus, like it did after going back to his play, and Neil could continue on with his life.

Trying to steady his breath and quell the tightness in his chest, he finds himself focusing on the rhythmic puffs of air billowing out from Todd’s mouth out into the pink sky. He doesn’t know why that comforts him. He ignores that and the feeling in his chest for the rest of the sunset, the two of them missing dinner and just sitting in one another’s presence as the radio crooned oldie after oldie. 

No matter how much Neil ignores his dad, his future, the tightness in his chest, and everything around him, he can’t help but pay mind to the way Todd softly hums along with the songs that come on. As insignificant as it is, it feels like a buoy he can cling onto for now, keeping him from drowning in the thoughts that threaten to envelop him.

Since it was nearing the end of the semester, the air bitterly cold and the sky always threatening to snow now if it hadn’t already, Neil had gotten used to all of the constants at Welton. Among all of those constants, though, arguably one of his favorites remained the Dead Poets meetings despite how cold it got within the cave. The Poets were the entire reason why he fought so hard to return to Welton when he didn’t really give a shit about the school, so having a place where they could all gather, banter, and seriously analyze poetry was something that became increasingly sacred to Neil as their final first semester stretched on.

Which is why he felt his jaw clamped shut now at the shrill giggles across from him. Similar to last year, Charlie had brought in two girls none of them knew, himself included, into their sacred space with no warning to essentially mock the Dead Poets Society. At least that’s how Neil saw it, and each giggle only further affirmed him in his stance.

The rest of them remember the “Nuwanda” incident all too well, so Neil isn’t the only one warily eyeing the girls who keep flirtatiously batting their lashes at Charlie’s antics. However, they’re teenage boys, so most of their defenses fall away soon enough as Charlie keeps trying to make the girls laugh by acting like an idiot.

Whatever, Neil wasn’t going to fall victim; at least one of them needed to remember what the Dead Poets Society actually was and why they had it in the first place. Charlie’s just making a mockery of it now with his dumb jokes and fake gaudy act.

“Would you two like to join the society?” Charlie eventually asks at some point in the night as he wiggles his eyebrows at the girls, earning him yet another set of shrill giggles in response. This was all too eerily similar to what happened last year, and Neil couldn’t be more fed up with the whole situation. The last thing they needed was an incident like last time when Charlie got too overzealous and was eventually caught with his whole phone call prank.

“Join the society?” Neil asks incredulously, not being able to stop himself from balking at the idea. It’s not like he’s opposed to some girls joining the society, – he would be thrilled if they actually cared – but he could tell that this was just a mockery of something he had come to love so much, that it was just a joke to them.

Maybe Charlie had a point with inviting those two girls last year; it wasn’t like they did much more than smoke pipes and act like idiots back then, so society meetings then were already a mockery of what Keating probably did in his youth. 

But now, they had actually achieved what the Dead Poets Society should be thanks to Todd and his thought-provoking poetry submissions. Now it felt like a slap to the face to bring some random girls to the meeting when it had become such a sacred tradition, when it had become something so lively and full of intention.

“Yeah, our meetings are entirely too male-centered if you ask me. Only guys gathering together to read poetry by dead guys of the past? It’s sexist!” Charlie argues as if he actually cares about the issue and isn’t just saying it to get into their skirts. The lengths Charlie went to in order to impress girls never failed to shock Neil, which is saying something he had seen the insanity which ensued after Knox got hung up about Chris this time last year.

“Actually, we’ve read multiple poems by women, like the one by Stevie Smith about–” Todd weakly tries to point out from his corner of the cave before Charlie cuts him off.

“Okay, okay, but it still feels stupid to have a poetry club without any women,” Charlie cuts off with a smirk on his face. “So, what do you say ladies? Do you want to suck the marrow out of life?”

Not wanting to say something he would regret, Neil abruptly stands up as he hears the girls giggle in response to Charlie’s innuendo. “Actually, it’s getting late. I need to get some sleep for the Latin exam tomorrow,” he excuses before ambling his way out of the cave.

“Come on, Neil, we just got started!” Knox tries to argue as he walks out.

“By all means, continue on without me! Don’t let me rain on your parade,” he says into the opening before breaking away for good.

It was dumb for him to be making such a scene, he knew that, but he couldn’t stop himself from feeling upset at how Charlie was treating the society as if it was some kind of joke. Did it not mean anything to anyone except for Neil? Was he the only one who actually cared about the poetry they would read and talk about?

Before he can get very far from the cave, he hears footsteps behind him crunching in the icy slush on the forest floor. Turning around to see the culprit, Neil isn’t too surprised to find Todd close behind him in the dim moonlight. He stops and waits for him to catch up, rubbing his hands together before blowing on them to give himself some semblance of heat.

“I-I didn’t want to be there, either,” is all Todd provides when he’s finally standing next to him, rubbing his hands together as well. Neil just smiles back in response, appreciating the sentiment.

Before they can start walking back to Welton, Neil sees a figure from afar walking up to them. “Come on, guys. You know Charlie acts like an idiot when he’s around girls,” Meeks says as he makes his ways over, trying to get them to stay.

“He’s free to act like an idiot all he wants, I just don’t want to be there,” Neil says as he tries to avoid a distinguishable shake in his voice. If anyone hears it, he can blame it on the cold.

“Hey, wait up!” they hear come from the direction of the cave. Squinting at the approaching figure, they eventually can make out Cameron’s face as he paces up to them.

“What are you doing here? Don’t want to flirt with the girls?” Meeks asks with a teasing smile on his face, pushing up his glasses as he does so. Cameron just rolls his eyes at him.

“Of course I do, but I hate when Charlie acts like this – or should I say Nuwanda?” The rest of them snort at his remark. “Besides, I want to try to fall asleep before he gets back to the room tonight. He’s possibly the loudest snorer in all of Welton,” Cameron laments as he crosses his arms across his chest, shivering the slightest bit.

“So, what? It’s just Charlie, Pitts, and Knox in the cave with the girls now?” Neil asks as he surveys the little group they had formed. He really hadn’t meant for so many of them to follow suit, just knew that he needed to get out of there before he insulted those poor girls.

“Nope,” Todd says quietly next to him, looking towards the direction of the cave. “Here comes Pitts now.”

“Pittsie, why’d you leave?” Neil finds himself calling out as Pitts gets closer to their huddle.

He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly as he responds. “Well, once it gets to be down to two girls and three guys in there, it becomes pretty clear that one of you isn’t gonna score,” he chuckles out, causing the rest of them to laugh along with him.

They debate on if they should stay or not, Neil and Cameron fighting for a good night’s sleep and Meeks and Pitts arguing that they could still salvage the night. Neil's not actually fighting for sleep and he knows the others aren't fighting just to hang out with the girls, but they never acknowledge any of that. Before they can come to a conclusion, though, a voice rings out to interrupt their conversation.

“Hey! Fellas! Come back over here! Please?” they all hear Charlie call out now, interrupting their conversation. Neil finds himself groaning with a few of the others as they silently wonder what he could want now.

Rather than being petty and walking off, though, their small group starts to head back to the cave. Once they’re there, Neil is surprised to find that the girls are gone.

“Look, I’m sorry guys. I didn’t know bringing a few girls over would scare you all off, but I fixed it now,” Charlie explains with a bit of smarm in his tone. “I promise I’ll only bring them over to my room from now on, scout’s honor,” he says at the end with a half-smile as he crosses an X over his heart.

“You weren’t even a boy scout,” Cameron says under his breath in exasperation.

“Where did the girls go?” Neil asks, his brows creased as he looks around the forest for those poor girls who were probably freezing. There were still remnants of icy slush from the last time it snowed on the ground, and he remembered them to only be wearing blouses and skirts.

“Them? I told them to fuck off. Guys before gals, that whole thing,” Charlie dismisses nonchalantly. “So shall we continue with the meeting?” he asks as he tries to gesture them back into the cave where Knox was keeping the fire alive.

“You mean you brought those girls out here and then left them freezing and alone in the woods to find their way back home in the middle of the night?” Neil asks incredulously, anger rising from his gut no matter how much he tries to quell it. He knew Charlie could be absentminded and a bit rude when it came to people he wasn’t close to, but this was a whole new low.

“Well, when you say it like that–” Charlie starts to defend, acting sheepish of his actions for once.

“We’ll continue with the meeting,” Neil says resolutely as he cuts him off. “But you’re going to go find those girls and take them home.”

“Come on, you can’t be serious,” Charlie says, a smirk still somehow on his face despite the clear anger on Neil’s. 

“Sounds pretty fair to me,” Meeks pipes up from the side, luckily being on his side. In suit, the rest of the Poets start to nod along.

“Yeah, bring those girls all the way out here, take them all the way home,” Cameron argues as well.

“What about the meeting?” Charlie asks almost petulantly as a last resort. Neil just crosses his arms as he tries to repress his anger. He wants to say that he ditched those girls to attend a meeting he was just mocking a few minutes ago, but he holds himself back.

“You can catch the next one,” is all Neil says before walking past him into the cave. The rest of the Poets follow his lead, leaving Charlie outside. After a few moments pass, Neil hears him huff out something about “bullshit” before stalking away.

Letting out a sigh, Neil finally collects himself enough to not be as angry as before. He’s sure he’ll be completely cooled off by the time he sees him tomorrow, but he’s glad Charlie’s gone for the night. He was one of his favorite people, possibly his best friend, but knowing someone so well also offered plenty of opportunities to see their less favorable sides. “Right, where were we?” he asks once he’s calmed down.

“We were about to start reading some poetry before Charlie came in with those girls,” Cameron provides, ever the tab-taker.

“Right,” Neil affirms, and from there, they all take turns reading out some poetry save for Todd. It feels a little weird without Charlie there to crack all of the inappropriate jokes, but they get along fine enough. When it comes time for Todd’s chosen poem to be read out at the end, they decide that it’s Pitts’ turn to perform it.

“It’s even a poem by a woman,” Todd comments with a smile as he hands the paper to Pitts, alluding to Charlie’s earlier comment about sexism jokingly. The rest of the Poets chuckle at the remark, the irony seeming too perfect.

“Alright,” Pitts says a bit quietly once he’s standing in front of all of them, getting their attention to read out the poem. “This poem is titled ‘Crumbling is Not an Instant’s Act’ by Emily Dickinson.”

Despite how short the poem is and its simplicity, Neil feels his brow furrow as Pitts reads it out. It felt, oddly enough, like a pivot from the darker stuff Todd often brought to the meetings.

“Ruin is formal – Devil's work / Consecutive and slow – / Fail in an instant, no man did / Slipping – is Crashe's law –” Pitts reads out as he finishes up the poem, everyone clapping after the performance like they usually did. Seeing Todd’s red face, Neil can’t help but wonder if he would ever get used to the praise.

“What’s Crashe’s law?” Knox pipes up after the initial praise for the poem.

All eyes turn to Meeks since he’s the one who would know random science trivia. He merely shrugs his shoulders as he looks back at them. “Don’t look at me; never heard of it.”

Then, all eyes turn to Todd since he’s the one who brought in the poem in the first place. He shies back from the attention a bit but still answers the question. “That’s the thing, I couldn’t find anything about it. There’s nothing about something called Crashe’s law in any of the books at Welton,” Todd explains, his right hand gesturing lightly as he makes his point.

“So, what? She made it up?” Cameron asks, seeming a little peeved at the idea.

Neil takes the paper from Pitts so he can analyze it a bit more. “I mean, look at the word: ‘Crashe’s law.’ Seems awfully convenient,” he comments as he points at the line for all of the Poets to look at.

“What do you mean by convenient?” Pitts asks as he settles back down into his sitting position since the analysis had officially begun.

“Well, the whole poem is about crumbling and slipping, so it would be perfect for someone with the last name Crashe to come up with a law that applies perfectly to this poem,” Neil tries his best to explain, not knowing if what he was saying entirely made sense.

“So you’re saying she made up the law to go with the poem?” Meeks asks as he adjusts his glasses, grabbing the paper to look at it himself.

“Yeah, almost like the whole poem is her creating the law,” Neil replies, his brows still furrowed as he thought over the implications of what he said.

After a few beats, the rest of the Poets all turn to Todd, silently asking if they were right.

“That’s kind of what I thought, too,” Todd confirmed sheepishly, the Poets victoriously cheering at the confirmation. They didn’t always reach the same conclusion as Todd, so it was especially fun when they were able to hit the mark.

They continue on with their analysis for a bit longer before calling it a night, all of them running back to Welton through the brittle air.

It felt weird to have one of them missing, but Neil still felt a bit of heat in his gut at the thought of what Charlie had done tonight. Neil really had thought that they all had come to cherish the meetings like he had, but Charlie’s arrogant and nonchalant nature tonight told him clearly that it was not the case. The shitty way he treated those poor girls was just the cherry on top.

And Neil knew he would forgive Charlie by the morning like he always did when his friend went too far, but something irreparable still happened tonight. He had to come to terms with the fact that some people would never understand the things he loved the same way he did no matter what he did. He suspected a good amount of the Poets loved the meetings like him since so many of them were ready to bail with him, but Charlie represented a much larger percentage of the world that would never understand Neil, at least not in that way. It's how he felt with acting, and it's how he felt with the society now.

But maybe he was being dramatic and overthinking it. Maybe it was dumb to practically be adults and like poetry so much, maybe it was better to scrape all of that shit to the side to focus on girls.

Glancing over to Todd’s bed once they all had settled back into their rooms to sleep, Neil wonders what his roommate meant when he said that he hadn’t wanted to be there either. Was Neil that easy to read? Did Todd feel the same way as him? Or was his problem with something else entirely?

Entering one of their last few classes for Keating for the semester, the air is tense as the students are eerily silent. Neil’s pretty sure they would all lie if asked why they were all quiet right now, but he knew the truth: they felt betrayed by Keating in a way. He had gotten them so involved and invested into a novel just for it to have a horrifically sad ending. 

Looking back, there was plenty of foreshadowing all along, but Neil didn’t want to believe it as he read. He wanted an ending where George and Lennie got their farm together.

He had been a little behind on reading, but he knew the ending could contain nothing good when he came back to the room one afternoon to find tear tracks down Todd’s face and the book in his lap. As Todd rushed to wipe his face to remove all traces of his tears, Neil had immediately told him to wait before talking to him and then got his book out, determined to finish it before any spoilers and to see if it was actually that sad.

As tears welled in his eyes reading the last chapter, Neil had come to the conclusion that yes, it really was that sad. He and Todd had talked about it a bit afterwards, Todd letting out a small “so what did you think?” after Neil had practically thrown his book down from being so upset. That had gotten a laugh out of him and made him cheerful enough to discuss it for a bit, but they couldn’t really find much more to say about it than how sad and unfair it all was. 

Snapping back to attention once the bell rang and class had begun, Neil felt his brows permanently crease throughout the rather mellow lesson Mr. Keating delivered about the end of the book, finding himself not really agreeing with the points whatsoever which was a first for this class. So the novel really was about separating the weak mice from the strong men? It didn’t make sense to Neil, especially after they spent so much of the book seeing how strong George and Lennie’s friendship was considered to be, how that bond was supposed to break the dog-eat-dog world cycle.

Glancing at the snow falling outside of the window, Neil finds himself tuning his favorite teacher out for the first time ever since he had him. Why were they ending the semester on such a sorrowful note? Why did he assign them to write a book report over the precious few weeks they had away from Welton? It all seemed so out of character for Keating.

The mood is still dampened by the time the class ends, although there is a brighter undertone in general since all of the students were excited about going home for the holidays soon. Neil packs up his items fairly quickly, but right as he’s piling all of his books into his arms, Mr. Keating calls for him to stay back.

Feeling his brows furrow once again, Neil obliges and puts his stack of books back on his desk. Charlie makes a mocking scandalized sound of “ooh” which makes all of the Poets giggle as they leave the classroom, even Pitts going as far to jokingly mouth the words “you’re dead” to him before ducking out of the room with the rest of his friends.

He chuckles along with their antics, but a small feeling of dread roots in his stomach once his friends are gone. What if he really was in trouble with Keating? What if he somehow found out that he lied on his very first assignment? Or what if he noticed Neil wasn’t as attentive in this class compared to others?

Waiting for the more bookish kids to filter out, each of them asking unnecessarily specific questions about the book report over the break, Neil tries to quell the dread in his gut. Looking to his side at the empty desk next to him, he muses how this was one of the few days that Todd had opted out of staying behind after class to talk to Mr. Keating. Maybe it was because he knew Neil would have to hear whatever secret stuff he talked about since he would be the last one to talk to Keating, but who could know for sure?

Once the classroom is just down to them two, Mr. Keating dawns a warm smile as he invites Neil to join him in his study behind the classroom. Much like the last time Neil was in the room, which was last year right before the play, Keating offers him tea, but he declines this time. His gut was too knotted to get anything down at the moment.

“So Neil, I couldn’t help but notice that you visited me in my office much less this year than the last,” Keating finally comments once he has his own cup of tea, walking over to sit at his desk next to where Neil is sitting.

“Oh really?” Neil asks, his voice notably higher pitched than usual as a result of his internal panic at the unpredictable confrontation. “I-I hadn’t really noticed. I guess I needed less help on assignments this year,” he offers lamely, rubbing the back of his neck in an attempt to ward off the warmth spreading there. He didn’t need help with the assignments last year either, he just liked talking to Keating.

“Well, it’s completely fine for you not to visit me, I just wanted to make sure and see if everything was alright,” Mr. Keating follows up immediately, his voice low and gentle compared to the louder tone he usually had to do in order to be heard by the whole class. It was soothing to Neil, and he was suddenly hit by how much he missed talking to his teacher. He knew he avoided him for his own sake due to his father, but he didn’t realize how much he took Keating for granted last year until now.

“Oh, yeah,” Neil struggles to get out convincingly, the wave of how much he missed Keating swelling up his throat a bit. “I’m totally fine. I got all A’s for this semester.”

A somewhat sad smile crosses Mr. Keating’s face. “That’s great, Neil, but you know good grades don’t automatically mean you’re doing fine. Though, I’m sure they don’t hurt,” he kids, a tone of urgency shining through his words despite how relaxed they are. Keating always seemed to want the students at Welton to know that they weren’t their grades since that’s how many of them were treated at home, and the sentiment now is only serving to make it harder for Neil to hold back his tears.

“Of course I know that,” he replies with a smile, though he can guess it’s probably a bit weak. Whatever, the dim lighting in Keating’s room should allow for him to get away with minor expressions undetected. 

“I suppose I just wanted to make sure that… that I’m still useful as an instructor to you. I don’t want you trapped in a class where you feel like there’s nothing more to learn from your teacher,” Mr. Keating comments after a beat, taking a sip of his tea after. The comment shocks Neil so much that he’s silent for a few moments. Keating thought he stopped visiting him because he had nothing left to learn from him?

“No, no, that’s not the case,” Neil rushes to say once he thinks better of himself, shaking his hands as if it will help ward away whatever idea his teacher has come up with. He found himself talking before he could think any better of it. “In all honesty, Mr. Keating, I mainly stayed away since I accidentally got you wrapped up in my issues last year. The last thing I want is for you to get in trouble for my mistakes.”

Keating’s brows furrow deeply at this confession, and Neil feels his face redden in embarrassment. He wished that his dad wasn’t such a control freak, that he would let him go to school like a normal kid, because now he was even making the people he respected the most to be wary of him.

“Neil, you are not responsible for me whatsoever,” Keating asserts gently but firmly. “What happened last year was not your fault at all. I need you to understand that.”

Neil feels a lump form in his throat, making it hard to speak. He has to blink away a few tears, similar to what he did the other night on the roof when Todd had found him, similar to when he read the last chapter of Of Mice and Men.

“No, I know,” Neil struggles to say past the lump in his throat, nodding his head to hopefully communicate more than he can right now.

“It’s no secret that Welton doesn’t exactly… agree with my methods, so they’ll do just about anything to try to justify either making me like all of their other teachers or terminating me. You talking to me does not put whatever target on my back that you think it does because I already have one, Neil,” Mr. Keating explains with soft eyes and a look of amused contempt on his face as if he knew Mr. Nolan's feelings about him all too well. Of course Neil knew all about this, but he wasn’t sure if it was good or bad that Mr. Keating knew just how much the school board didn’t really like him.

“I’m sorry to ramble, I just need to get it across that whatever the school throws at me is not your fault. And if they ever try to pin anything on you, just know that it’s because they were too coward to fire me on their own,” Keating asserts, closing up his spiel with a serious look in his eye. “Understand?”

“Yes sir,” Neil finds himself blurting out in response immediately after, mentally cursing the military training ingrained into him. He hadn’t called Keating sir in ages, so this was nothing short of mortifying.

“Oh wow, so formal,” Keating kids, trying to lighten the mood as he chuckles. “Anyway, Neil, for the real reason I asked you to hang back.” He then gets up and strides over to the other side of his small room, going through a stack of papers before pulling out a packet.

“Is that more homework?” Neil jokes, keeping up the light mood and thankfully making his teacher laugh a bit in response.

“No, no… well, you might see it that way,” Keating banters as he makes his way back to his desk. “It’s an application for a college a friend of yours told me that you might be interested in.”

Looking down over the packet, Neil feels his eyebrows furrow once again - he was going to get wrinkles at this point. “Academy of Art College? Never heard of it,” he questions, looking from the cover of the packet back up to his teacher.

“It’s a fairly new creative arts college, in California no less,” Keating supplies, receiving only a confused stare from Neil. “Now, I know you probably plan to go into a much more practical career than anything in the arts, but as you know, the arts are why we live, and I believe you could make a significant contribution if your acting talent is anything to go off of. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to send an application in just for the sake of it,” he backtracks a bit upon seeing Neil’s bewilderment.

“I appreciate the offer, I really do, but my dad would kill me if I applied here,” Neil responds with a slight laugh in his voice while handing the packet back to Keating. Who even told his teacher that he would be interested anyway? Surely it had to be Charlie, either pulling a prank or trying to be sweet in his misguided way.

Keating pushes the application back into his hands. “Just think about it, yeah? An application doesn’t guarantee that you’ll go even if you get in. Who knows? It might just be fun to see if you have what it takes to be accepted.”

Not wanting to be rude, Neil graciously takes the packet and speaks no more of it for the rest of his time in Keating’s office. They catch up a bit more as dialogue freely flows between them like how it used to, but Neil has to excuse himself eventually so he doesn't miss all of the free time they were permitted. He still needed to do some homework, after all.

On his way back to his room, he catches Charlie in the hallway and claps him on the back. “Told Keating to give me an art school application, huh?” he banters cheerily with a chuckle in his voice, the animosity between them from the last society meeting long forgotten and forgiven by this point.

The smile Charlie was returning him falters. “What art school application?” he asks as his steps slow down.

“Oh, quit playing dumb. I know you were the one who told Keating to give me this,” Neil rolled his eyes as he shoved the packet into Charlie’s chest.

Coming to a full stop, Charlie looks over the packet with a furrowed brow. “I’m not joking, I have no clue what you’re talking about,” he confesses as he looks over the packet. Looking back up to Neil, his smirk returns as he shoves the application back in his chest. “Not a bad idea for you, though.”

Watching Charlie walk back off to where he was going, Neil felt stuck in the hallway. Knowing that Charlie couldn’t act for the life of him, his confused reaction had to be genuine. So Charlie really didn’t know about the application? So then who did it?

Shoving the packet into his desk to never look at again once he’s back in his room, his eyes flicker over to Todd’s empty bed. Maybe he had a hunch of who it could have been.

“So… how are you gonna spend winter break?” Charlie asks as he leans into the room with his half smile, eerily mirroring the first day when Neil was moving in.

Neil rolls his eyes although a small smile lingers on his face. “How do you think? Same as always,” he says as he takes a break from packing his things up to turn to Charlie. “I’ll visit my grandparents, hear about how much I’ve grown since the last time they saw me even though I haven’t grown since sophomore year, and then thank them for whatever gifts they get me even if it’s a new pair of socks.”

“Well aren’t you a party animal,” Knox quips from Todd’s bed, the rest of the Poets packed into their room like the first day but switched around. Todd seems to be ignoring Knox who’s splayed over his bed and smoking languidly as he packs up his stuff, and it causes Neil to bite back a smile. He would never catch a break, would he?

“Kind of hard to be a party animal when both of my parents are only children like me. I have no cousins to talk to or have fun with, just old people to pinch my cheeks and act like I’m still 5,” Neil laments as goes back to packing. He wasn’t excited to leave his friends, was dreading it actually, but he supposed a break from Welton’s course load would be nice. Well, except for Keating’s paper over the break, but he could worry about that later.

“Consider yourself lucky, I’m basically going to have to be a babysitter for the whole break with how little my cousins are,” Meeks comments, leaning back on Neil’s bed as he complains.

“Same here,” Cameron bemoans as he leans on the window ledge at the head of the room.

“I would prefer that over my sisters; they act like they own the house,” Pitts pitches into the conversation, sitting next to Meeks in Neil’s bed. Neil continues to pack up his stuff around them.

“But you have hot sisters,” Knox jokes with a shit-eating grin, immediately earning an “ew” from Pitts as he throws Neil’s pillow at Knox in protest.

“Hey, don’t catch my pillow on fire now,” Neil intervenes, gathering his pillow from Knox since he still had a cigarette in his hand.

“Sucks to be you guys, my family is great. All of my cousins are my age so it’s basically like hanging out with a bunch of friends every holiday,” Charlie brags as he finally walks into the room fully, sitting in Neil’s chair beside his desk backwards.

“If you’re so excited about going home for break, then why are you in here instead of packing?” Neil questions with a sly smile, knowing he caught his friend on his exaggeration.

“I’m already packed,” Charlie counters with his smirk and an eyebrow raise.

“No he’s not; his side of the room looked like a tornado blew through it before I came over here,” Cameron butts in, causing the rest of them to laugh as Charlie makes daggers at him with his eyes.

“Whatever, I’m just gonna miss you guys, so I don’t want to leave yet,” Charlie concludes once the laughter dies down. “Well, I’ll miss most of you guys.” He continues his searing glaring at Cameron upon the second comment, making the other boy roll his eyes.

His mouth is poised to make a rebuttal of some sort before a knock is heard on the door. After he sees Knox successfully put out his cigarette and kick it under the bed, Neil voices a polite “come in” to whoever knocked on the door.

“Mr. Perry, your dad is waiting for you in his car out front,” a staff member informed him once he cracked open the door.

“Okay, thank you,” Neil responds with a polite smile, prompting the faculty to leave so he can finish with his packing.

“Well, I guess that means it’s time we take our leave,” Meeks says as he gets up from the bed, patting Neil on the back before heading out. The rest of the Poets get up and do the same, save for Todd of course since he had nowhere to go.

“Bye fellas, I’ll see you guys next year,” Neil jokes, earning him fake groans followed by some laughter as all of the others filter out.

Once the door is closed, Neil sighs to himself a bit. Right, he had to get down to his dad soon unless he wanted to irritate him and make him come up here, something he always wanted to avoid.

Picking up all of his bags, Neil turns over to his roommate before he leaves. “Have a good break, yeah?”

There’s a lot more he wants to say, but that’s all his body seems to let escape his mouth. Hopefully it establishes what he means enough, like how much he’ll miss Todd, how thankful Neil was for what he’s done for him over this semester, and how he better not revert back to his shell over the next few weeks. With the smile he receives, Neil dares to think that maybe his simple goodbye did just that.

“Yeah, you too,” is all Todd says back, a small yet infinitely warm smile on his face. And with that, it was time for him to leave.

“Uh Neil, wait!” Todd rushes out as Neil is about to open the door with his bags in hand. Turning over to his roommate, he saw him now standing sheepishly with his hands behind his back. As he looked at him with a question in his eyes, Todd’s face only got redder.

“Yeah?” Neil finally prompts him, not knowing what Todd was keeping him back for. His dad would probably come up to his room soon and give him a lecture on punctuality if he didn’t meet him out in the courtyard within the next few minutes.

“Before you go, um,” Todd stumbles to say, looking down and shuffling closer. “I thought I’d, um, give you your Christmas gift early, I guess.”

After struggling to get his last sentence out, Todd stiffly moves one arm from behind his back to shove something in Neil’s chest. Dropping his bags in one hand in order to grab ahold of it and look at the cover once Todd stepped back, Neil feels his eyebrows furrow as he looks the gift over.

“A Comprehensive Guide to Algebra II?” Neil parrots the title out loud, hoping saying the name would get him an explanation. “Um, thanks! I’ve been wanting one of these,” he tries to say genuinely, not wanting to hurt his friend’s feelings over not liking his gift. Todd seemed so nervous, after all.

Abruptly, he hears Todd snort across from him. Startling his eyes up to look at his friend, Neil finds Todd laughing into his hands.

“I’m sorry, but you’re gonna have to work on that if that’s how you respond to gifts that you don’t like. You’ll break poor grandma Perry’s heart,” Todd snickers out between his laughs. “Anyway, that’s not the gift. The book is actually something I found at the bookstore called Actors on Acting; I thought you might find it, I don't know... useful? I just made a fake sleeve for it because of, y’know, your dad,” Todd explains, his laughter dying down as he slowly gains the color back in his face.

Pulling off the sleeve slightly, sure enough Neil finds the book Todd was explaining. He feels his eyes shine when he looks back up to his friend. “Wow, Todd, this is just… wow. Thank you, this is so thoughtful,” he tries his best to reflect the earnestness in his voice, admittedly a bit in awe of how nice of a gift this was. 

He finds himself laughing as he puts the sleeve back on and starts to add it to his bags. “You should get into making book covers for your future job. You really had me fooled.”

Todd laughs along with him and entertains the idea a bit before falling silent. Right, Neil was supposed to be leaving.

“Oh shit, I didn’t get you anything!” Neil panics as he realizes that getting Christmas gifts for his friends was not on his radar at all.

“No, no, you’re fine,” Todd waves off before returning back to packing up the last of his things. “You already got me a birthday present.”

“That does not count and you know it,” Neil comments as he gathers all of his bags into his hands. “I’ll come back with the best Christmas gift ever, just you wait,” he claims assuredly, making a show of puffing out his chest and hiking up his bags as he gets his hand on the doorknob.

“Yeah?” is all Todd asks, a small smile on his face as his eyes shine.

Neil nods his head, his smile feeling like it increases tenfold. “Yeah.”

Chapter Text

“Your hair’s longer,” Todd states plainly from his side of the room as he gets ready for bed.

“Is it?” Neil asks with a smile as he buttons up his sleep shirt, humored at the idea of Todd noticing anything about his hair. “Must be the break talking. It’s about the same length as it was three weeks ago.”

“I know, but now it’s finally the same length it was junior year. Maybe even a little longer,” Todd comments, his eyebrows pinched together as he seems to be trying to remember what Neil looked like back when he first met him. He supposes that he had been blowing his hair off of his face more and more out of annoyance recently, but Neil hadn’t really noticed until now.

Plopping onto his bed once he’s in his pajamas, Neil finds himself sighing as if he had just had the most exhausting day in his life – in reality, it wasn’t the truth, but it definitely felt like it at the current moment. He was ready to have a good night’s sleep to decompress from the chaos of moving back into his room after the winter break, his eyes already falling closed as he splayed across his bed.

“Who knew Welton could be so tiring even before spring semester started up?” Todd asks as he buttons up his sleep shirt now, though he’s turned away from Neil so it takes a moment for him to register the question.

“Huh?” Neil finds himself inquiring before he can stop himself as he blinks his eyes open and sits up, not able to follow the turn in the conversation that well.

“You just sighed; I assume it’s because you’re already exhausted,” Todd chuckles out slightly as he turns back to face Neil now.

“Oh, yeah,” Neil laughs back in response, shaking his head at himself. “Christmas at my house was just, I don’t know, a lot. And I love the Poets, but I forget how…”

“Overwhelming?” Todd guesses, trying to fill in Neil’s missing vocabulary.

“Yeah, I forget how overwhelming they can be after not seeing them for a while,” Neil chuckles out, leaning back on his bed as he speaks. He’s unnerved by how comfortable it seems to feel under his hands, further instilling just how tired he had to be if his uncomfortable mattress felt anything akin to soft.

“Yeah, and Charlie can only brag about how great his break was so many times before it starts to get old,” Todd tacks on with humor in his tone, shaking his head to himself because, yeah, Charlie had definitely been gloating earlier today. “You were good at kicking them out of the room before they got to be too much, though,” Todd points out as he makes his way to his own bed now too. Neil smiles and nods along with his friend’s affirmations.

“Oh! Speaking of the break…” Neil’s voice trails off as he gets up to rummage through a bag he brought back to the school.

“Oh god, what?” Todd asks, already seeming wary of whatever Neil was about to pull out of his bag.

“Oh, come off it,” Neil jokes as he rolls his eyes at Todd’s reaction. He was supposed to be the dramatic one in their friendship, after all. “Remember that promise I made you before we left for break?”

“Ummm,” Todd mumbles as he takes time to think over their last conversation with one another. Looking over his shoulder, Neil sees the moment Todd remembers what the promise was since his face winces at the memory, nearly making him burst out laughing in turn. “You mean about the Christmas gift?”

“I think you meant to say ‘the best Christmas gift ever,’” Neil jokingly reminds. As Todd lets out a begrudging confirmation that he remembered the conversation, Neil finds just what he’s looking for. “Well, be prepared for me to hold up my end of the promise.”

Standing up and shoving his gift behind his back as he turns to face Todd, Neil’s abruptly hit with a wave of self-consciousness he usually doesn’t feel around his friends. Being eye-to-eye with his roommate now, he gets a similar feeling in his gut that he had when he gave Todd those wildflowers a few weeks ago. All of a sudden, the gift he was hiding behind his back felt like the stupidest thing in the world, and Neil could already feel his face getting hot. Things weren’t always like this with Todd; Neil didn’t used to be so easily embarrassed around him. What changed?

“Well? Where is this ‘best Christmas gift ever’ that I keep hearing about?” Todd teases in a quiet voice, probably seeing how Neil froze and treating him gently in turn. Snapping out of his spiraling stupor, Neil supposes it’s now or never.

Rather quickly, Neil takes his arm from behind his back and presses his gift into Todd’s hands, their fingers practically cupping one another due to Neil’s clumsy transfer. He’s not sure if he should focus on their embarrassing brush of hands or the fact that he now gave Todd possibly the worst gift of all time. Both options seemed pretty miserable to him.

Yanking his hands away once he’s sure Todd has a good grasp on the gift, Neil takes a step back and can’t help but stare to gauge his roommate’s reaction no matter what it would be. He had to know at this point, for better or for worse.

In Todd’s hands, Neil had placed a misshapen teddy bear – if you could even call it that – which he had crocheted himself. While he was making it, it had felt like the best idea ever, but now as he was looking at the ugly creature in Todd’s grasp, he was realizing just how girly it was to do something like crochet in the first place, much less make an entire stuffed animal for your best friend.

For Neil, Todd’s face seems totally unreadable as he looks over the gift he just gave him, his eyebrows high on his head and his mouth barely quirked to the side as he gently turns the teddy bear over in his hands to take it all in. Finally, and much to Neil’s relief, a smile breaks across Todd’s face as he looks from the stuffed animal to him.

“It’s a… teddy bear?” Todd says more like a question than anything as he looks over the stuffed animal, his eyes darting from the creation to Neil to get confirmation. It feels like how a parent has to guess what their child scribbled onto a piece of paper, hoping to guess it right as to not upset them.

Once again, Neil feels his face get hot as he nods. “Yeah, I remembered how you said you never had any stuffed animals growing up, you know, like a psychopath, so I figured I should get you one,” Neil attempts to explain as he rubs the back of his neck, slightly chuckling as he made a dig at his friend in hopes of distracting from the actual gift.

“And you made it?” Todd asks, a sparkle seeming to be in his eyes as he didn't let the conversation wander away from the bear.

“Yeah, my mom crochets blankets and stuff so I figured, how hard could it be? Looking at how bad it looks now, though, I realize that I should have just bought you one. This teddy bear will only give you nightmares, not help you sleep,” Neil jokes through a laugh, hanging onto the back of his own neck with his right hand as he tries to explain the gift to Todd.

What he doesn’t explain is the countless nights over the break Neil spent tirelessly working on the dumb stuffed animal, trying his best to read the confusing instructions in the “Crocheting for Beginners” book he had found in his mom’s crafting supplies. He didn’t want his dad seeing him doing something as girly as crocheting, so it was a secret he had to maintain under the cover of night, leading to him struggling in the dim lamplight alone as he tried to learn what the difference was between a single and double crochet. The fact that he made anything that slightly resembled a teddy bear given his circumstances was nothing short of a miracle, in his opinion.

“I love it,” Todd quietly says with a small smile on his face, looking at the teddy bear once again.

“Come on, you don’t have to lie, Todd. I mean, his face is all crooked, his left ear is like two times bigger than the right one, and I don’t think any of his limbs are the same size,” Neil chuckles once again, gesturing to all of the flaws of his shittily crocheted teddy bear as he points them out. “It’s nice of you to say that, though.”

“I’m not lying,” is all Todd says to counter Neil’s incessant complaints about his own gift to him. “And you weren’t either,” Todd says after a few beats, a smile growing on his face, “best Christmas gift ever.”

This startles a snort out of Neil, causing him to roll his eyes as he feels his face get hot again. He couldn’t deal with his roommate’s antics with how exhausted he was. It felt like he was just taking the piss at this point, but maybe he was being sincere. Todd wasn’t the type to be cruel when it came to things like this, when it came to anything actually.

Deciding to not challenge his friend on his lofty claims, Neil shuffles back to his bed and falls into it like a long lost lover, sighing happily once he’s settled and his head is snug against his pillow.

As he slowly blinks into sleep after Todd turns off the light, he can’t help but smile as he sees his friend bring his new misshapen teddy bear into the bed with him. 

“Hey Todd,” Neil whispers out once Todd is settled under the covers with his stuffed animal between his arms.

“Yeah?” he whispers back, opening his eyes and meeting Neil’s gaze through the darkness of their room.

“What’re you gonna name him?” Neil questions in another whisper, a smile breaking over his face since he was keeping his friend up for such a childish question. Neil thought he would just tell him to piss off and go back to sleep, but Todd seems to actually think it over.

“Hmmm,” Todd hums as he gives him a thoughtful look, pulling out the stuffed animal from under his arms to fully look at him. “I think I’ll name him… Puck. How does that sound to you?”

Neil feels his chest swell with an indescribable feeling as he hears those words leave Todd’s mouth, the same feeling which seized his lungs countless times last semester due to his friend. Neil was hoping the swelling feeling would go away over the break, but as he fondly looked over his roommate sleepily pressed into his bed, he figured it wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

“Sounds perfect.”

“Come on guys, we have to get back before it gets dark out,” Cameron nags at the head of their pack. The sun had just begun to set when he said that, the sky fading into a pale yellow on the west skyline.

“Cool your jets, alright? We have administrative permission to be out anyway, so it’s not like they can punish us or anything,” Charlie counters, acting way cooler than he actually was most likely due to the high he had from the movie they’d just gotten done watching.

He had a point, though; since Keating did give them the clearance to go out into town fairly late to catch a showing of West Side Story, – a movie which may or may not have changed Neil’s life – they were free to show back up to Welton fairly late with no repercussions. Neil wasn’t too familiar with musicals beforehand, or even music as the night on the rooftop informed him, but now he couldn’t get the soundtrack or the choreography out of his head.

It felt like something Charlie and the others might have made fun of, – the overacted choreography paired with some sappy music – but he supposes that the story of the rivaling gangs helped even out how lame or girly it might have seemed otherwise.

As if proving him right, Charlie started reenacting the snapping that the gangs did as he began to close in on Cameron since he wouldn't shut up. Knox and Pitts are the next to join him, their snaps syncing up as Cameron let out a peeved “knock it off.”

Not being able to help himself, Neil laughs along with the rest of the group as he joins in with the snapping and walking towards Cameron. Todd’s the last to join in, seeming a little shy but still snapping along, causing Neil’s smile to double.

“Cut it out,” Cameron says frustratedly after the laughter dies down a bit. “I don’t know how you guys can be so upbeat after an ending that sad.”

“It was pretty sad,” Todd agrees, all of their snaps stopping as the conversation moved on.

“Come on, as if they were actually in love,” Knox dismisses with an eye roll, his hands now tucked into his pockets as they walk back.

“Says mister love-at-first-sight. Come on, that story was just like you and Chris,” Pitts comments, causing Knox to blush and balk at the accusation.

Right as he’s about to object, Meeks cuts in. “Yeah, the whole forbidden love thing? Absolutely you and Chris with Chet keeping you apart. Don’t think I didn’t see you tearing up when they kept being torn away from one another,” he says pointedly, furthering Knox’s blush on his cheeks.

“What?” he asks in disbelief as he looks around at the rest of them chuckling at his reaction. “It’s not like I was the only one! I mean, did you guys see Todd? He was sniffling constantly after intermission.”

His attempt at throwing the attention off of him works, all eyes turning to Todd after the statement as if that would be any confirmation. Neil makes eye contact for a second with him to find his face downcast, red, and somewhat mortified. He wanted to take the attention off of his friend, but he was afraid that someone would call out how he practically cried during the movie as well.

After a few moments of silence, Todd finally speaks up. “I like Shakespeare, is all.”

“What does Shakespeare have to do with anything?” Charlie asks with a clear tone of confusion. The rest of them laugh at his question, not really believing it.

“Come on, Charlie. Surely you had to know that the movie was a retelling of Romeo and Juliet,” Neil can’t help but comment between his laughs. If his friend couldn’t put that together, then maybe he really was toast in Keating’s classes.

As the rest of the group rips on him for the rest of the walk underneath the dimming sunset, Neil’s eyes find Todd’s. As bad as he feels for Charlie now being the one torn into, Neil’s glad he got the attention away from his roommate. He knew Todd already had a more sensitive side, so that paired with a tragic story was a sure way to get some tears. Neil even teared up during the whole “Somewhere” song, though he wasn’t really sure why it struck a chord with him in the first place. He supposes it reminded him of George and Lennie, dreaming of a distant "somewhere" which was never to come.

As their eyes meet, Neil’s the first to reach out with a smile. There wasn’t much he could say with all of the guys around, but he needed Todd to know that he was there for him. By the small smile Todd returns, he thinks he somewhat got through to him.

Despite their goofing off on their way back, – recreating some of the easier dance moves in the movie and doing some egregious New York accent impressions – they make it back to Welton just before curfew, much to Cameron’s relief. Neil supposed it was a good thing since the administrators would only get pissed to find out that Mr. Keating gave them an excuse to go do something as non-educational as watch a movie.

Later that night as Neil’s attempting to drift off to sleep, Todd asks him a question which somewhat startles him.

“Would you ever want to do something like that?” Todd asks in the dark, the radiator in their room fighting off the chill in the air the only thing making a noise despite their light breathing.

“Do something like what?” Neil asks, feeling lost at the sudden inquisition given how there was no lead up to it. Todd expected him to read his mind at random times, to just be able to pick up what he was talking about despite the lack of context, now not being the exception.

“You know, be in a musical. Seems like something you’d like,” he continues, his voice sounding small but not as tentative as he was used to.

“Oh, god no. Maybe I’d be interested if I could carry a tune, but I’d really be awful at all of it, the singing and the dancing,” he chuckles in response, somewhat in disbelief that Todd would actually think of him as a performer like that. He was right, it was definitely something Neil liked, but he knew that his dad would send him to boot camp for life if he became not only an actor, but a singing, dancing one at that.

Under the buzz of the radiator, Neil swears he hears Todd mutter something along the lines of “I bet you’d be great,” but he’s too afraid to follow up the comment. Maybe he wasn’t meant to hear it; maybe he was mishearing in the first place.

As he struggles to fall asleep in the silence that falls over them, Neil can’t help but wonder why the movie resonated so much with him. He supposes that the whole group’s tears at the hopeless love story made sense given the day they talked about their actual dreams rather than the ones their parents picked out for them when applying for colleges.

Not all of them had been in love the way Knox had been, but they all definitely could understand the tragedy in circumstances keeping you away from what you loved, even Cameron despite his attempts at loving his predetermined career path.

Coming to this unsettling resolution, Neil decides to busy his mind with other thoughts as he drifts off to sleep, not wanting to imagine a future where all of the Poets are stuck in lives that they never wanted. Even worse, imagining a Poet rebelling to do what they love just to end up like Tony.

“As you may know if you attended a screening of West Side Story like I requested,” Mr. Keating starts the class abruptly right after the bell rings, his eyes shining as he surveys the room of boys from the front of the room, “this next unit is about, drumroll please…”

A beat passes as they all stare at him blankly. “I said , drumroll please,” he restates, startling them out of their shock and causing them to start drumming on their tables to fulfill his request.

“Romance!” he announces proudly after a few beats of buildup. “And before you all groan and complain, no, this is not a ‘girly’ topic, boys. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. How else do you think you can woo women if you don’t know the romantics, if you don’t know the epic love stories of romance like Romeo and Juliet or Cathy and Heathcliff?”

Despite his whole point of romancing women, a considerable chunk of the class still groans at the fact that the rest of the semester will be dedicated to reading sappy novels, no doubt. In his peripheral, Neil swears that he sees Todd perk up slightly at the announcement, but maybe he’s just imagining things.

Neil never really cared for romance if he was being honest. Sure, theater really caught his attention, but he was more into dramatics than anything. A Midsummer Night’s Dream was about love in all forms which was a lot of fun to act out, but that’s really all love was for him: an act.

While he could pretend to be in love, – the role of Puck luckily didn’t call for it – he never really understood what being in love meant or felt like. It seemed absurd to him in a way, a simple emotion causing people to go to crazy lengths and act like idiots. But then again, maybe he had such a practical disdain for love because his parents had never really been in it.

Regardless, Neil felt the urge to groan along with some of his classmates because he had never really cared for wooing women in the first place. At least Todd seemed excited to learn about that; maybe he could tease him about it later.

“Now, I just mentioned the epic yet tragic love story of Romeo and Juliet. How do you think this would apply to our lesson today?” Mr. Keating prods as he starts to circle the classroom, a shark-like smile on his face.

Meeks is the first to raise his hand along with Cameron. “Yes, Mr. Meeks?”

“It’s because West Side Story was a modern retelling of Romeo and Juliet, right?” he answers with a question, seeming sure but still leaving some leeway for Mr. Keating to tell him otherwise.

“Ding! Right on the nose, Mr. Meeks,” Keating confirms as he hits the bell on his desk, getting a chuckle out of the class from his antics. “Now, who in here went to go see this film?”

Charlie is the first to proudly raise his hand, and the rest of the Poets join him gradually after. Aside from a few stragglers, the rest of the class keeps their hands down. Even if it was a musical, Neil didn’t understand why the others wouldn’t take the excuse of leaving the school to go see a movie. It was a no-brainer for him.

“Oh, what a pity. Most of you are really missing out on something special,” Keating comments after surveying the room, raising his eyebrows in challenge as he walks around. “Now, the story in Romeo and Juliet which is reflected in West Side Story plays out what trope?”

Ever the teacher’s pet, Cameron raises his hand pretty soon after the question is posed.

“Yes, Mr. Cameron?” Keating asks as he leans back on his desk.

“Both stories are about forbidden love, sir,” he answers matter-of-factly.

“Quite right, sir,” Keating jokes back with a wink. “As Mr. Cameron said, both stories depict a forbidden love trope. Now, I don’t want to give too many spoilers, but almost every love story from the classics use this same trope, like Wuthering Heights which I mentioned earlier. Does anyone have a guess as to why this is?”

“Because they don’t have any better ideas?” some meathead from the class guesses.

“No, Mr. Walden, but I appreciate the guess,” Keating responds quickly. 

“Because it’s interesting?” Neil guesses, supposing he should add to the discussion since this was something he was wondering about last night. Because really, if people were so crazy about love all of the time, why was it always so sad and difficult to achieve in the movies?

“That’s exactly right, Mr. Perry. What’s the fun in reading a story where everything goes perfectly right? In reading about a love which has no problems or obstacles? Sure, you most likely won’t encounter such unfair situations which set up a forbidden love like a gang war, but isn’t it interesting to read about one? Doesn’t that make you want to keep reading to see the outcome?” Keating poses rhetorically, practically lapping the room as he does so.

“Now huddle in,” he says once he gets to the middle of the desks. Everyone lags for a moment due to being out of class for a few weeks with the break, but everyone gets up and hunches down with Mr. Keating after an additional “I said huddle in” from him.

“Now I know this class is full of a bunch of goody-two-shoes, but surely all of you can somewhat understand the inherent and teenage desire to rebel from your parents, right?” Keating says in a low, conspiratorial tone as he looks around to all of the students huddled around him.

Everyone nods along, a few of the students like Cameron most likely just lying to get on with the class better. But then again, Cameron was the second Poet to agree with starting the society, so maybe he did have a little rebellion in him after all.

“Good, good; that’s natural boys, nothing to be ashamed about,” Keating appeases after he senses some of the hesitancy from some of the students. “Now, romance does not always have to be forbidden. Like Mr. Perry said, authors often use that trope because it’s interesting, but there is also an underlying message behind why writers will choose this trope specifically for love. I’d like to see if any of you can guess what that reason is.”

“Political commentary?” some brainy kid that sits on the front row guesses.

“Ooh, good guess Mr. Ferguson, and it is true for some stories!” Mr. Keating responds excitingly. “But I’m referring to a more general message which is underscored with the vehicle of forbidden love.”

“Because it’s not easy?” Knox guesses, his eyebrows pinched as he seems to be worried with getting it wrong.

“Oh, so close Mr. Overstreet, but I need you to take that thinking and apply it a bit further,” Keating winces as it seems like he wants to give Knox the full credit for his answer.

“Because it’s a testament to how strong their love is for one another?” Todd’s voice quietly poses after a dip in the guesses.

Keating suddenly claps his hands and points to Todd with a big smile, causing him to gain color in his face rapidly at the attention. “That’s exactly it, Mr. Anderson. Forbidden love stories are so entertaining and touching to watch or read because their love has to be strong enough to endure all of the hardships. Plus, you must admit boys, the idea of a woman still wanting to be with you even if the world itself is against it is appealing,” Mr. Keating chuckles with his bright eyes, the class laughing along with him as they slowly get enraptured by his lesson the way they always do.

He continues on with his lesson as to why romance is such an important genre within literature for the rest of the class, letting them break from the huddle and return back to their seats shortly after the forbidden love discussion. Although Neil didn’t really give a shit about love, he had to admit that Keating made it a very fun subject to learn about.

As Mr. Keating was finally closing the class, he pivoted the conversation about romance to make one last announcement. “Now boys, I hope you didn’t forget the report I assigned over the break. Seeing as how I extended the due date a week past when it was originally due, I expect you all to have finished it now. On your way out, please turn it in on my desk. I will not be receiving any late work for this.”

Right on cue, the bell rings and the class digs through their belongings to get their papers to turn them in. Being reminded of the report and the book in general, Neil feels a frown form on his face.

Over the break, Neil had found his brain racking over and over as to why he would be so upset with the ending of the novel Of Mice and Men along with Keating’s final lesson on it. His report had been increasingly difficult to write until it finally hit him with a sickening realization: when putting the world into such polarizing groups like “strong” and “weak,” he would fall into the latter category, the one that the book seemed to hate so adamantly.

He hated the ending because he saw himself in Lennie in a way since hoping for a good future which was futile given his circumstances. He was the one in the friend group that seemed to get overly emotional, who got too invested in useless things like the society meetings, who couldn’t write a fucking play without it centering it around his best friend.

In reality, he was no stronger than Lennie or any of the other characters which were killed off and labeled as weak. Sure, he wouldn’t be killed in today’s day and age for being weak, but he would crumble under the weight some day, he could just tell.

But Neil also rejected that idea. Why did the weak have to die, to be forced into lives they don’t want? Just because the “strong” said so?

So rather than fulfilling the prompt like Keating had wanted, Neil found himself disputing the novel altogether as he wrote it. He went on and on about how the ending was wrong, how there could be a place for Lennie if George and the others had the courage to fight for him.

So when Neil walked up at the end of class to turn in his report, only Todd still in the classroom since he was hanging back to talk to Mr. Keating like he always did, he found himself handing over the paper with what he would call a bold yet flimsy defiance.

“I, um,” Neil struggled to find the words as he handed the paper over, his chest puffed out proudly despite his left hand hanging on the back of his neck.

“Yes, Neil?” Mr. Keating inquires, his eyes amused as a small smile plays at the corner of his mouth.

“I wrote my paper about how I don’t agree with the lesson you taught us about the novel, sir,” Neil said, being formal in hopes to outweigh just how defiant he was being right now. If it were any other class with any other teacher, he would have been sent to the principal’s office by now with a failing grade without any further discussion.

“Did you now?” Keating asks, his voice interested and not teasing the way Neil was expecting. Looking over the front of the report and the title of his essay, Mr. Keating smiles.

“Um, yeah, I thought it was an unfair assumption to label characters like Lennie or Curley’s wife weak when they clearly had strengths in other areas. And even if they were written to be weak, I think Steinbeck was wrong to deliver a message saying that the world will separate the strong from the weak. I think you can be both, I think they can be friends with one another, and that their goals really can come true if… if others who are considered strong are okay with being seen as weak for a while to help their friends,” Neil rambles, not entirely sure of what he was saying but determined to not stumble over his words regardless.

Though Keating’s face had been unreadable for the majority of the conversation, his eyes were now burning with approval as a smile stretched across his face. “Well done, Mr. Perry. I hope to hear more opinionated pieces from you in the future.”

As Neil makes his way out of the classroom with what is most likely a shocked face that his defiance was received so well, Todd stares at him with a sparkle in his eye. Neil’s not too sure what the look means, but he assumes it’s similar to how he looked at his friend when he performed poetry in front of the class that one day.

Neil was upset. It wasn’t anyone’s fault really, no matter how much he wanted to blame Todd who he was practically sitting right next to in the cave – the spot next to his roommate continued to be his as long as the cold weather persisted.

Neil was upset because after going through all of his pages for his play again, he realized that the story somehow revolved around Todd yet again despite his changes and precautions. If there was anyone to blame, it was only himself; he knew that.

But it wasn’t like sitting next to Todd with his stupid golden hair and the distracting way he hummed to himself every so often was doing Neil any favors. And it was like all of the other Poets hung on every word his friend said, especially during poetry nights. How was Neil supposed to write an impartial story about them all when it was, in fact, partial?

All of that to say that Neil has decided that he needs to change his play yet again in order to salvage some kind of cohesive story. Which is why he’s erasing and scratching pieces out somewhat furiously now, hoping to scrub yet another failure out of existence as soon as possible.

“Neil?” Todd asks, rather loud and startling Neil out of his stupor with a jolt.

“Yeah?” he replies instinctively, cutting his eyes from his paper to Todd. Being able to see the ridges in his friend’s eyes, Neil is reminded that they were still incredibly close despite the distance he attempted to maintain in the gap of sunlight. 

“Sorry, I had said your name a few times before, but you didn’t hear me,” Todd explains as he breaks the eye contact, his cheeks pinkened. Shit, was Neil really that out of it?

“What did you need?” Neil asks after a beat, trying to distract from his embarrassment.

“Oh, um, nothing. I was just wondering what you were doing?” Todd asks as he slowly works his way back up to eye contact again.

Neil starts to get defensive, but sighs before anything can leave his mouth. For some reason he always had the urge to make conversations with Todd difficult when they didn’t have to be, so he decides to crack a joke rather than start an argument.

“I guess we’re pretty much past all of the agreements we made, huh?” he poses rhetorically, pointing out how Todd broke their previous one by asking him about what he’s working on while still joking lightheartedly. With how they practically shared all of their projects with one another now rather than the secretive excerpts they began with, Neil supposes they were already past all formalities a while ago.

“Oh shit, yeah, you’re right. I shouldn’t have asked,” Todd appeases, seeming to go back into his shell. Neil started to wonder if there would ever be a time where his friend would truly be himself for more than just an hour or two, if he could ever be candid without a constant undercurrent of fear. He had a sad inkling that such a thing wouldn’t be possible until far into the future.

“No, no, I think we’re far past our agreement at this point. I’m just, I don’t know, editing the play. From what you’ve read, it should be pretty clear that all of what I have right now is just a rough draft. Emphasis on the rough,” Neil explains, hoping to not scare away Todd entirely and possibly coax him back out of his shell. Their time in the cave was always so nice because Neil never really had to convince Todd to let his guard down like he usually did around the Poets, so he didn't want to ruin that.

“Just-” Todd starts abruptly after a few beats of silence before cutting himself off, seeming to be finding the proper word choice he wanted for this moment. “Just don’t mark everything out, alright? What you have is good.”

“I’ll try not to,” Neil replies as he can feel his ears burn at this compliment, but he chuckles along with his friend at the sentiment to hopefully shake it off. “Thanks,” he says more sincerely afterward at the compliment.

“I know how you feel, though,” Todd interjects. “When Keating assigned for us to write our own poetry to read out last year? I probably wrote at least fifteen poems and trashed every single one. It’s why I didn’t have one when class came around,” he explains as he moves his hands slightly, both arms propped up on his knees which are to his chest. “Anyway, learn from my mistakes and don’t just scrap it.”

“I don’t know, the end result of you scrapping it was pretty good,” Neil teases, though he fully meant what he was implying. Maybe scrapping it was actually the best choice Todd could have made.

Todd’s face reddens at the compliment and rolls his eyes. “Oh, come off it,” he says dismissively.

“Actually, I remember a bit from one of your poems last year. At least before you scrapped it,” Neil admits, his brows furrowing as he tries to remember the lines he had teased his friend for over a year prior now. We are dreaming of tomorrow / And tomorrow isn't coming. It was actually quite gutting to think about on its own, as for the one line he could remember.

“Oh god, please forget whatever you do remember,” Todd instructs through his hands which are covering his presumably red face. “I’m sure it was an awful, melodramatic attempt at Whitman’s style.”

“I liked it,” is all Neil supplies simply, not wanting to embarrass his friend any further.

“You laughed at it,” Todd counters, his hands leaving his face as makes eye contact with him once again. With a sudden realization, Neil realizes that it did seem like he was laughing directly at the poem back then.

“Oh my god, Todd, is that why you scrapped it?” Neil asks, horrified to discover that he was why Todd had nothing to protect him on the poetry day last year. Todd’s silence is enough to confirm his fears. “I-I wasn’t laughing at it, promise,” he desperately tries to explain. “I was more in shock because I was expecting to read some paper for world history class or something, not a poem.”

Todd’s silence to his explanation further instills how little his roommate was buying it although Neil wasn’t lying. God, how much had this actually messed him up? Neil never really thought twice about the incident since they were both laughing during the chase, so he didn’t consider how his teasing could have seemed cruel to Todd. If his teasing really did hurt his friend this much, Neil can’t even imagine how scared and vulnerable Todd must have felt when he first shared his poems with him in the cave last semester.

“I really don’t know why my first response was for me to laugh. That was shitty of me. I really did like it, Todd,” Neil tries to explain once again, not sure how to make himself sound sincere.

“If I say that I believe you, will you drop it?” Todd asks through his hands which have returned to cover his face.

“Only if you mean it,” Neil counters, tilting his head and trying to make eye contact with his friend so he can see his teasing smile. Todd cracks his fingers and scoffs when they finally make eye contact, shaking his head and rolling his eyes with a smile as he finally returns to his notebook.

“Remind me to never ask you about your project again; it only turns it back onto me,” Todd jokes after a few seconds, causing Neil to snort at his remark.

“What was your poem about back then, anyway? It seemed really, I don’t know, sad?” Neil finds himself asking before he can think better of it. He knew this would be the only chance he would have some sort of chance at learning anything about the line of poetry he read last year, so he decided to shoot his shot while he could.

Now it’s Todd’s turn to snort, shaking his head to himself as he lowers his notebook. “God, you don’t quit, do you?” he asks rhetorically through a smile, to which Neil shamelessly shakes his head. “Like I said, it was just melodramatic shit. Typical teenage stuff like wanting to run away and change the world, you know? Basically wishing for everything to be different. Pretty stereotypical, huh?” he explains while not looking directly at Neil, a faint smile on his face that seems self deprecating.

“Well, do you?” Neil asks a few beats later.

“Do I what?” Todd asks, not being able to follow Neil’s jump in the conversation.

“Do you want to run away? Change the world?” he follows up, wondering if those were whims of a past version of Todd or if the same unrest still dwelled within his friend.

“Doesn’t everybody?” Todd answers his question with a question, sounding almost incredulous that Neil would even ask that.

“I guess so. Running away does sound pretty nice in theory,” Neil muses, supposing Todd had a point after all. Maybe a past version of him would be more invested in such ideas, but now he can only think of everything that would go wrong if he ever attempted such a fantasy like running away.

A few more moments pass before Neil’s curiosity once again gets the better of him. “Is that why you applied to that college in California?” he asks, trying to really understand Todd’s brain now that his roommate was being more candid than ever right now.

Todd nearly chokes on his own spit, coughing in shock for a moment before being able to speak. “Who told you about that?” he questions, his eyes wide and a bit panicked at the sudden shift in the conversation.

“No one. I just figured you applied to the same college that you told Keating to recommend to me,” Neil answers truthfully, his mouth quirked in a smile with how much he was able to catch his friend off guard.

“How did you know it was me who did that?” Todd asks again, seemingly shocked with how much Neil knew.

“Well, I didn’t at first. I thought it was some prank by Charlie to poke fun at how I was banned from theater, but he knew nothing about it when I asked him. I kind of figured it was you after that but didn’t want to say anything, you know, because I figured you’d react like this,” Neil explains and also teases. By the time he’s done talking, Todd has gotten pretty much ahold of himself fully.

“Well, did you apply?” Todd asks afterwards, seeming to want to take the attention away from his cluelessness and turn it back onto Neil.

“Yeah, real funny,” Neil dismisses with an eyeroll of his own, humored at the notion of applying to anywhere else but where his dad told him to.

“I’m being serious,” Todd complains at Neil’s nonchalance.

“I’m being serious too,” Neil counters, his joking manner dropping out of annoyance at his friend’s naivety. “It’s not like I’d ever get in. It’s a waste of time.”

“Neil, you have to know that you’re talented. Your play alone is enough to get you admitted,” Todd fights back, not buying Neil’s self-defeated excuse.

Neil shakes his head in shock at what Todd was saying. “First of all, I disagree with that,” he says with a pointed finger. “Second of all, why would it matter if I could get admitted?”

“Don’t you want to know if you could do it?” Todd asks.

“No, Todd, I don’t. I just want to do what my dad says. Maybe that way, I might have a shot of acting in a local theater group instead of being stuck in med school for over ten years,” Neil refutes before he can think better of it.

Their conversation felt eerily similar to the time when Neil asked if Todd thought he could be someone people listened to last year, except now the question was flipped back onto Neil. Suddenly, he feels too exposed, too vulnerable. This conversation ending in Todd knowing the sad way Neil planned his future was not what he planned.

“Neil I-” Todd begins to say after a few seconds before cutting himself off, trying to find a better way to say what he wanted to get across. “I didn’t have Keating recommend applying to that college to mock you or anything like that. I really just thought it might… I don’t even know what I’m saying.”

Neil stays silent for a few seconds before giving in like he always inevitably did when it came to his friend. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have turned something innocent and nice you did for me into something mean. I’ll- I’ll think about it, yeah?” he says, willing to say practically anything to remove the dismayed look from his friend.

Todd starts shaking his head automatically at what he was saying. “No, don’t do it for me, it was stupid anyway.”

“No, I mean it. It would be fun to see if I could get in,” Neil says more earnestly now.

“Yeah?” Todd asks back, a slight smile back on his face finally.

“Yeah,” Neil responds with a matching smile. “Besides, if we both get in, we can run away together and become artists.”

“Oh fuck off,” Todd says automatically, causing both of them to burst out laughing.

As they both laugh at the ridiculousness of what Neil just said, he tries not to linger on how nice the idea really sounds. God, Neil really was just like Lennie, huh? Shaking his head to himself, he returns to removing Todd from his play, hoping to erase all of his dumb wishes for his future out of his mind at the same time.

Hearing Todd’s voice sleepily recite line after line of poetry, Neil feels a wave of gratefulness wash over him as he nestles further under the covers. He had thought that Todd continuing to quote poetry aloud for him to fall asleep after the first few weeks was a bit overkill last semester, that he just let the routine continue because it was a sacred space between them that he wasn’t willing to give up yet, but the break made him come to the abrupt realization that he still, in fact, needed Todd to fall back asleep in the early mornings.

Not only that, but Neil had felt restless in general over the whole break, leading him to stay up late just to wake up in the early hours of the day no matter what he did. He even tried reading the book Todd had gotten him or reciting some poetry out loud to lull himself to sleep, but to no avail.

At least his fucked sleeping schedule provided him the time to make Todd his Christmas gift, the teddy bear – Puck – now between his friends’ arms as he mumbles out poetry past his face squished against his pillow. Neil feels that same feeling he always seemed to feel around Todd now, the one that always swells in his chest painfully and takes over his lungs, as he makes out Todd’s silhouette in the dark room; apparently the break hadn’t gotten rid of that either.

“Tell all the truth but tell it slant — / Success in Circuit lies / Too bright for our infirm Delight / The Truth's superb surprise,” Todd’s sleepy voice rang out between them. As Neil felt his eyelids become heavy, he wondered how long Todd recited poetry before he stopped, how he knew Neil had fallen asleep.

“Todd,” Neil interrupts one of his lines before he can think any better of it, “how do you know when to stop reciting poetry?”

Todd falls silent in lieu of his question, and Neil feels himself waking up more and more as the panic sets in that he just burst the delicate bubble they had formed in the mornings. Fuck, he knew he wasn’t supposed to say anything, that speaking would force both of them to realize how irregular the routine they had formed was. Because really, what teenage boys helped one another fall asleep, and with poetry no less?

Just as Neil’s about to apologize profusely in hopes to revive the atmosphere from before, Todd finally pipes up. “I don’t know, you just… breathe different when you’re asleep,” he replies, his voice still muffled and sleepy against his pillow. Neil’s not sure if he can process his friend knowing his breathing patterns right now, so he continues the conversation before he spirals.

“It’s funny,” Neil once again finds himself saying before he can stop, “for a while now, I thought I would have been, I don’t know… cured, I guess, from my sleeping schedule from the summer since I had been sleeping so good. But over the break, I kept waking up right at 6 in the morning and wasn’t able to go back to sleep like- like no time had passed since camp.”

“Yeah?” Todd inquires in response, seeming to not know what to say to his confession but still prompting him to continue.

“Yeah, like, it’s just weird how some things never seem to go away,” Neil rambles on, the tiredness in his brain seeming to remove whatever filter he usually kept around his friends so he didn’t end up admitting shit like this. “Thinking about it now, I guess that’s why I was so exhausted when we first got back from break; I hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in weeks.”

A silence falls over them at this confession, and Neil spirals back into his thinking that he had permanently ruined whatever they had in the mornings. Well, he supposes he could kiss a healthy sleeping schedule goodbye now.

“You- you could’ve called me,” Todd’s sleepy voice quietly mumbles out from across the room. Neil can’t really believe what he’s hearing, but he’s afraid that asking Todd to repeat himself will wake him up from whatever stupor they both seem to be in.

Neil imagines it for a moment, sneaking into his dad’s office to use their landline, quietly clacking Todd’s home phone number into the machine and waiting with baited breath for the other side to pick up from the dull ringing. Realistically, he knows it would never work; would he have fallen asleep in his father’s office chair with the receiver cradled next to his head, inevitably having Todd’s breath coming through since the other boy would have fallen asleep too? It would have cost a fortune anyway, so Neil shakes off Todd’s offer as a pleasantry.

Figuring he had already crossed the invisible boundary he had invented so long ago, Neil decides he might as well ask what’s always been a wriggling question in his mind. The cover of night gave him more courage than he typically would have, he supposes.

“How… how do you have so much poetry memorized? It’s almost as much as the lines I had to have memorized for a Midsummer Night’s Dream,” he asks creakily, his voice uneven and deeper than usual due to sleep. Todd really would be good in a play if he wasn’t so shy and stiff; Neil could just tell from the times he would get involved in acting as the Poets in his play. Plus, his reading of poetry was even better, almost Shakespearean in a way.

Neil hears his friend sound a sleepy laugh from across the room. “I had a lot of free time over the summer,” Todd chuckles out, yawning soon after his statement.

Neil felt his eyebrows crease at the confession. They hadn’t talked about what they did over the summer since the beginning of the fall semester, and all Todd had said was the concerning passing comment that he was apparently alone in his house for most of the break.

“What did you do over the summer anyway?” Neil asks after a few beats, not wanting to seem prodding or eager but still dying to know what his roommate’s break really was like. Neil thought he had everyone beat for the worst summer ever since he had spent his in what he assumed was closest to hell on earth, but now he wasn’t so sure.

“Not a thing. ‘S why I memorized so much poetry,” Todd responds, surprising Neil in how transparent he was being. Maybe Todd’s sleepiness was making getting to know him easier than pulling teeth, the way it usually felt when Neil asked his roommate any questions at all.

“Any reason?” Neil inquires, feeling more awake now since this conversation was going surprisingly far. Todd hasn’t admitted so much to him since they first started sharing their work with one another.

“Well, um…” Todd starts before scoffing to himself a bit, though his face being pressed into his pillow makes it hard for Neil to make it out. “God, this is gonna sound so lame, so you have to promise to not tell anyone.”

Now Neil’s interest was definitely peaked if it wasn’t before. “Of course, scout’s honor,” he promises, his sentiment serious despite slightly joking.

“You weren’t even a boy scout,” Todd comments with what sounds like a sleepy tone of fondness. “Anyway, since my parents weren’t really home for the summer, I was bored so I… I kind of wrote letters to Mr. Keating not really expecting anything, but then he wrote back. I guess we were like penpals. He recommended me some poetry to read that way, so I spent a lot of my summer just… writing to Keating and reading poetry. Like I said, it’s incredibly lame.”

As excited as Neil was to be learning more about his friend, he still felt a pang of sadness deep in his gut at how lonely Todd seemed to be over the summer. Being penpals with Keating didn’t seem bad at all, it was probably fun in all honesty, but it was still sad to think about the loneliness which probably drove Todd to doing that. Neil had felt a similar way in boot camp, weirdly enough.

“So that’s how you know all of the good poetry,” Neil jokes, attempting to lighten the mood and take his mind off of his spiraling thoughts. “Todd, that’s not lame,” Neil responds with more seriously after some silence from his friend, not wanting to burst the bubble that seemed to be delicately surrounding them. One wrong move and Neil knew this candid moment between them would end with Todd retracting back into his shell like he usually did.

Todd snorts now, seeming more awake. “It’s definitely lame. Your English teacher as your only friend over the summer break? How pathetic is that?” Neil feels a pang in his gut again at his friend’s bitter tone.

“I wish I could have sent letters to Mr. Keating over the summer. It would have been, I don’t know, a good break from it all, I guess,” Neil comments, his mind mulling over how isolating it truly was at the military boot camp. He was hardly even allowed to write to his parents, not that they responded with the warmth he was searching for anyway.

Neil swears he hears Todd mutter out an “I’m sorry” to him, but his pillow muffles it enough to where he’s not sure. Maybe he was just imagining things, just imagining hearing the pity he wished he received from his parents.

“I- I shouldn’t have told you about the Keating and poetry thing. Now I feel so lame,” Todd groans as he stuffs his face fully into his pillow. He has a joking tone in his voice, but Neil can imagine how vulnerable he must feel now that he had revealed such a personal secret. Neil was kind of in shock that he had admitted anything to him at all, much less this much about himself.

“Oh come on, my summer was way lamer than yours,” Neil finds himself saying to comfort him.

“No way; at least you spent your time getting fit and doing something. I just sat in my room,” Todd argues, going along with the joke despite the serious undertone to the whole conversation.

“Todd, my summer was so lame that- that I had to lie on the first assignment Keating gave last semester,” Neil chuckles out, now slightly sitting up from his bed to further the point. “I know I was all about seizing the day last year but, if I’m being honest, I’m… I’m scared shitless of doing anything like that anymore. I’m always so against my dad winning and getting his way, but I guess he has, you know? I think that’s why I took so long to tell you about the play I was writing. Before I would have been shouting it from the rooftops, but now? It’s like I’m scared to pick up a pencil if it’s not for a college application or an assignment.”

“Neil, what… what did they do to you at boot camp anyway?” Todd asks after a gaping silence which followed his confession. Thinking over it now, Neil supposes he never really did fill his friends on what he went through there, just wanted to forget about it as soon as possible.

“Nothing crazy, but it did suck though,” Neil chuckles out, staring at the ceiling as he starts to see the pale light of the sunrise filter in slowly. “We just did the typical stuff like wake up bright and early, lots of marching and exercises, and the typical training. The worst part was the weeks when they did what they called ‘intensive battle training.’ Basically they would hardly let us sleep and not give us enough food to last a day. I think it was to see if we could still operate properly even if we were sleep deprived or hungry, you know, like actual soldiers on the battlefield.”

Before he knew it, Neil blinked and he felt tears race down the sides of his face. When had he started crying? He had a light tone as he was talking because it really wasn’t a big deal, but from the silence following his confession, it started to seem like it really was.

“Neil, that sounds… awful,” is all Todd says, and Neil has to close his eyes in hopes that it’ll get the tears to stop flowing. “Is- is that why you eat so fast now?”

Neil lets out a wet chuckle. “I guess I do eat faster now, don’t I?”

His mind flashes to the bug-eyed looks he’d often get from the other Poets at the dinner table. He had always assumed it was because he had something on his face or because he was a messy eater, but with Todd’s question in mind now, he can see the concerned glances between the others as he hoovered his food into his mouth.

There had even been a time when Charlie joked that the food wasn’t going anywhere, something Neil laughed along with and didn’t think much of, but now he can see the worried undertone of his comment. Fuck, had boot camp really fucked him up that much? Neil hated feeling exposed like this, like Todd now had access to a microscope displaying all of his vulnerabilities and intentions. How had sharing to help his roommate feel more comfortable become oversharing?

“Is the penpal thing why you stay behind and talk with Keating after class? Because you talk about poetry now?” Neil finds himself bringing up to avert the attention from him and hopefully will his tears away.

Todd’s silent for a while, probably deciding on if he wanted to continue being so open with Neil. It was understandable since he had already said so much tonight and was notably more awake now. If he were to say anything now, it would have to be his choice and not a sleepy slip of the tongue.

“Sometimes. Other times we just talk. Recently, he’s been trying to get me to submit my work into literary magazines, as if my work would ever be good enough to be accepted in the first place. Besides, even if I were to have stuff good enough to send in, it costs money to do that. My parents would never give me money for something so… frivolous,” Todd rambles, his voice sounding clearer now as if he was also laying on his back in bed like Neil.

“Ooh, frivolous. You really have been doing your homework on poetry,” Neil teases, not really knowing how to acknowledge the rest of what Todd just revealed to him. At least his tears had ceased now, his mind too busy whirring over the new information.

Could that possibly have been what Todd’s phone call with his dad last semester was about? Was he asking for money to send in some poetry to a magazine per Keating’s request? As Neil considers the possibility, he feels intrigued at how much seemed to be going on for Todd behind the scenes despite how boring he liked to make his own life out to be. He supposes that was the easiest way to keep the Poets out of your business.

“Oh, shut up,” Todd chuckles out, a smile clear in his voice despite neither of them facing one another. Perhaps that’s why it was so easy for them to spill their guts this morning.

“Oh, Christ, is the sun rising? Is it already 7?” Neil laments with a groan as he watches the pale hues on the ceiling grow in warmth. He spares a glance over to his alarm clock just to get confirmation that yes, it’s about 10 minutes till 7 a.m.

“Time flies when you’re telling your deepest, darkest secrets,” Todd jokes, causing Neil to snort and shake his head.

They soon rise from their beds and start to get ready like every other morning, albeit more tired yet open than others. Right as Todd’s about to leave for the showers, Neil stops him.

“Todd, wait,” he interjects, causing his hand to pause from turning the doorknob. “What poem were you reading out tonight anyway?” A sly smile is taking up his face as he asks it, figuring that getting an answer for something he’s always wondered isn’t so dangerous now.

“It was a Dickinson poem,” Todd explains with a slight smile on his face, seeming taken off guard but still happy to answer. “None of her work is titled since it was all just found, but people call the one I was reading ‘ Tell all the truth but tell it slant — ’” And with that, he was out of the room and off to the showers, leaving Neil wondering if that’s what happened just now.

Chapter Text

“Valentine’s Day is upon us soon!” Mr. Keating starts off the class boisterously, startling half of the students from their amiable chattering right before the bell rang. “How perfect of a time to be doing a unit over romance, wouldn’t you all agree?”

His rhetoric question is met with silence, a few heads nodding and others grimacing. Neil supposed it was a sore topic to bring up since it was an all-boys school, so very few of them, if any, had women to woo for the holiday. Sure, Neil had found a few of his female castmates cute last year when he was doing the play, but he didn’t really have enough time to develop a crush on any of them.

So he, and many others he assumed, had no attachment to the romantic holiday whatsoever. Of course Keating, their married teacher, would find the topic of love enthralling, but most of the students in his class had started to become sort of despondent to it after just a month’s focus on romance.

Neil only said most of the students because a few were just as involved in the subject as they were at the beginning of the semester, one of them of course being Todd. Cutting his eyes to his friend to find him alert and ready to take notes, Neil wonders what exactly about this topic Todd found so interesting. Was there a girl out there who was the object of his desire? Was there any muse for this interest at all? Of course he could just be interested in what Keating had to teach, all of them were, but Neil couldn’t help but wonder if there was something more behind why his friend was so receptive this semester.

“Now, if I had to guess, I would assume a lot of you boys have yet to have your run in with Cupid, no?” Keating asks in response to the silence which followed his initial announcement. Now Neil felt the confidence to nod along with a majority of his classmates.

“I see,” he says contemplatively, starting to stride across the front of the room. “An epic love story only comes once in a lifetime, so be glad that such an opportunity hasn’t come around for you now when you’re still too young and dumb to know how to treat a woman. But fellas, this course should be preparing you for the moment you do meet the girl of your dreams, the girl you just can’t stop thinking about, the woman who just takes your breath away and turns you into a stuttering mess,” Keating teases lightheartedly, his tone turning conspiratorial towards the end of his speech as if this was an inevitable fate for even the toughest and most standoffish of men.

“Now, you lot may be wondering what exactly love feels like, right? Hopefully our assigned short story helped further your understanding and opened your eyes to the extent love makes some people go,” Mr. Keating lectures. “After reading ‘The Gift of the Magi,’ what would you conclude as the message of the story?” he poses conversationally as he walks around, eyeing each of his students equally.

“That getting gifts for people blows?” Charlie asks snarkily from the back of the room, surely leaning far enough back in his chair to be tempting fate. Neil almost snorts at his comment, not only because it was funny, but also from how much he personally disagreed.

Sure, figuring out what to give someone is definitely stressful, but the reward of seeing their face light up when they receive it overruled any negative feelings Neil could have for getting gifts. Anyone who saw Todd snuggled up with Puck night after night would agree that the grueling hours Neil spent making the damn thing were worth it.

“Interesting observation, Mr. Dalton, but I doubt that’s what O. Henry intended audiences to take away from his short story,” Keating teases as he walks around the room. Turning his eyes to the rest of the class, he calls on Cameron once he sees his raised hand.

“Well, it’s pretty clearly about love,” he points out matter-of-factly.

“I would have never guessed,” Keating muses sarcastically, getting a laugh out of the class. “Of course the stories we read this semester will revolve around the idea of love, but this short story has a particular message about love that I’m interested to see if anyone can pinpoint.”

A few more guesses are thrown around, all of which are gently denied by Keating until finally Knox spews out an answer close enough.

“That love is better than stuff?” he guesses, causing Keating’s eyes to light up like they always do when his students are onto something.

“That’s essentially it, my boy. True love, not some infatuation you had in elementary school, but true love transcends material things. It’s a pretty simple message, which is why it’s a short story instead of a full-length novel,” Mr. Keating adds on, a sense of fascination in his voice just talking about the topic of love.

Despite how satisfied his teacher seems with this answer, it only makes Neil furrow his brow in confusion. He already had such a faint grasp on the idea of love, and the contradictory message of the story only served to deepen his uncertainty.

Before he can psych himself out of it, Neil raises his hand to interrupt the class rather than just going along with the lesson.

“Yes, Neil?” Keating prompts once he sees the hand go up, cutting off the lecture he was just beginning.

“How can the message be about how love is more important than objects if the whole story is about getting gifts for the other? And how can the author call them the wisest when even he talks about how they messed up so much?” he asks, hoping he didn’t sound like an idiot to the rest of the class. From the amused glance he receives from Todd, he realizes he at least sounds dumb to him. Great, just what he wanted.

“Ah, good question Mr. Perry,” Keating says upon receiving the inquiry, thankfully no note of sarcasm in his voice. “There are many ways we can express our love to other people, whether that be through what we say or what we do. Gift giving is just one way to do so, but it is established as an important tradition for the couple within the story. It’s so important that each of them sacrifice something which is crucial to their own images just so they can get a gift good enough for the other. The ending of the story, though, shows how ridiculous the weight they put on extravagant gift giving is since there is already so much love between the couple.”

“But that still doesn’t answer how they were the wisest since you just said what they did was ridiculous,” Meeks points out, causing Keating’s smile to widen a bit. Neil was just glad that he wasn’t alone in his confusion, or that Meeks was at least feigning it to help him out.

“Great catch, Mr. Meeks. Now, can anyone in here guess as to why the author would call this couple the wisest even after such a spectacular fumble?” Mr. Keating asks as he continues to pace around the room, eagerly looking at his students as he awaits an answer.

For once, no one throws out any guesses despite the comfortable environment in the classroom. Neil suspects no one really had a clue in the first place and was just wishing that Keating would solve the mystery promptly.

“Yes, Mr. Anderson?” Keating asks after a few more beats of silence, causing Neil to whip his head over to his friend in shock. Surely enough, Todd was actually raising his hand to answer the question, possibly the rarest sight Neil had ever seen thus far in his fairly short life since he usually only answered questions when there was no other option like when they were forced to run last semester.

“Because their mistake shows them how their love knows no bounds,” Todd’s quiet voice guesses, his face almost in a wince as if he was expecting to get it wrong and be reprimanded for it.

Keating claps his hands once, causing Neil and everyone else to turn back to him suddenly to find a wide smile on his face. “Exactly!” he answers enthusiastically. “Through messing up and selling their most valuable possessions for the other in order to give them something nice and show their love, the couple coincidentally shows there’s nothing that they won’t do for their lover. So even though the girl is practically bald and the guy no longer has his family heirloom, the couple still loves one another, showing to each other just how much they’re willing to give up for one another and how little they care about material things or looks.”

Despite this astute observation revealed to the class which clears up the statement at the end of the short story, the students within the class still have mostly blank looks on their faces. To Neil, he still felt as if the story was still a bit too nonsensical for his understanding. As if reading his mind and probably some other students’, Keating starts to explain further.

“Perhaps you boys are struggling to grasp this lesson because you simply do not know how love feels. Now, I would love to cover this in depth to help you all, but it seems that we’ve run out of time since I still need to cover your next assignment,” Mr. Keating informs as he settles to just pacing at the front of his room slowly.

The class groans at the news that they now had a new assignment for this class, causing Keating’s smile to increase in humor. “Yes, boys, I will be putting your personal understanding of love to the test with this next assignment because I am asking that you write not just any poem, but a love poem for our class on Valentine’s Day. I know that it is no longer our poetry unit, but is there a more romantic medium than a poem? Since it’s due on Valentine’s Day, you will have about a week to construct your pieces.”

The class’ response is about what Neil expected with some groaning and annoyed faces. Neil personally felt his face pale a bit at the news since he knew he was ill-prepared for this assignment, but one look at Todd tells him just how much more his friend was already dreading this. His face was practically devoid of all color, and considering how close Todd was with Keating now, this assignment probably feels like a betrayal since public speaking is Todd's number one enemy.

“Now, it doesn’t have to be a Shakespearean sonnet or anything life changing. I just want to see something honest and authentic when it comes to the topic of love. And worry not, I know you all haven’t been in love quite yet, so it can be about any form of love, whether it be for a friend, a pet, a family member, maybe even your favorite food. We’ll be reading these out on Valentine’s Day, so don’t write something you wouldn’t want your mother to hear. In other words, keep it clean. As for my personal understanding of love, I’ll give an explanation at the beginning of that class to hopefully enlighten you,” Keating explains as he gestures wildly, his voice bordering on amused and stern to convey this was not an assignment to goof off on.

Right before anyone can complain or ask any questions, the bell rings and ends the class. They were given no time to process this bombshell which was just dropped on them before it was already time to leave.

Neil already knew Todd would be staying behind to talk with Keating. Whether that conversion will be what they usually discuss after class or his friend trying to get out the assignment, he didn't know.

After leaving the classroom and laughing about the assignment with the rest of the Poets, Neil comes to the sudden realization that he had been so worried about how Todd would feel about the assignment that he didn’t fully process that he had to do the same thing. If he was screwed for his “seize the day” assignment at the beginning of the fall semester, then he was surely screwed now since he didn’t have the faintest idea of what to write when it came to love.

“What?” Neil asks incredulously, sure that he needed to get his ears checked because what he heard Todd just say to him was unbelievable. The Poets were being pretty loud in the cave at the moment and it was fairly smokey due to the fire and the pipes in all of their hands, so mishearing his roommate was very probable.

“I said,” Todd huffs more in anxiousness than frustration, “I want to read a poem I brought,” he repeats hushedly, his face flushed as he keeps a wrinkled paper close to his chest. “Might as well get some practice in before Keating’s class, right?”

The unthinkable and the impossible now seemed to be fact: Todd Anderson wanted to read a whole poem in front of his friends. Neil’s not entirely sure what inspired this development since the whole Keating thing seemed to be an excuse and the night had been no different or any more significant than the others, really.

The meeting started with them shooting the shit, making childish jokes, trading snacks, and smoking pipes like they always did. Sure, it was still freezing outside, but the light kindling they encouraged into a full fledged fire helped with the warmth. They took turns reading poetry, but they all seemed slightly out of commission still due to the break; it’s like they’d lost their flow.

Neil had been excited when waiting to see what poem Todd had brought since it always seemed to be the highlight of the night, but he could have never even anticipated such a thing as Todd wanting to read out the poem himself.

Neil finds himself reacting too excitedly before he can think better of it as he starts to stand up and shout for the others’ attention, to which Todd shakes his head vigorously in protest. Completely enchanted at the idea of finally seeing Todd expand his comfort zone on his own terms, Neil ignores his friend’s protests much like the first time Todd brought poetry in general. He was like a baby bird that needed a little shove from the nest is all.

“My dear fellow members of the Dead Poets Society, I have a major announcement,” Neil proclaims theatrically, breaking up the light chatter which previously took up the space.

Charlie opens his mouth with a sly smirk seemingly in preparation of cracking some asinine joke, so Neil takes the liberty of cutting him off before he could say anything to derail the night.

“Before you say anything crude, Charlie, this announcement has nothing to do with the sexual status of anyone here,” he cuts off in an overly polite tone seeing as Charlie had been on a string of virgin jokes recently; beating him to the punch was the only defense Neil had.

“Aw man,” Charlie deflates from whatever brilliant joke he was surely concocting. The rest of the group laughs at the interaction, and Neil smiles as he waits for the noise to die down again so he can announce the unbelievable recent development.

“Anyway, this announcement was to notify you all that our very own Todd Anderson, the legendary poet himself, is going to read a poem out for us tonight!” Before Neil’s even done with his statement, though, the rest of the group is whooping and cheering as they stomp their feet because everyone recognizes what an accomplishment this is for their shy friend.

“Is it his own poem?” Pitts asks after the cheering quiets for a bit.

Glancing to his friend for confirmation, Neil is not surprised when Todd shakes his head no. It was already such a big step to perform a poem in front of his friends, so Neil knew going from nothing to reading out his own poetry was too big of a jump for Todd.

Keating knew it was practically his worst fear, hence why he literally had to force the poetry out of Todd last year. And he could only do that when his eyes were closed and kept out the rest of the class. Maybe Todd had a point about practicing before Keating’s class.

“Nope, but I, for one, am excited to see how Todd delivers a poem of his choice,” Neil comments, the rest of the Poets excitedly nodding along.

Looking at all of their encouraging smiles, Neil’s hit with an overwhelming appreciation for his friends. So many other guys in their grade would rip any of them to shreds for reciting poetry for fun, and if not that, they wouldn’t give a shit enough to care in the first place. So to find himself in a group full of nearly adult boys all caring and encouraging Todd, Neil feels his heart swell.

He holds onto that feeling as he rushes to sit down in his spot so Todd has to get up and perform the poem he chose finally. Even though his face is beet red, he manages to stand in front of his friends, crumpled paper and all.

Neil gives him an encouraging smile when his eyes find his amidst the Poets. Todd returns a shaky smile and a nod before burying his face in his paper, not only to read but also to hide from their gazes.

“This poem is called ‘Chasing That Dragon’ by Laurence Rich,” he shakily announces, not moving his eyes up to look at any of the Poets. Given that this was his first time performing poetry, - at least to a group of people and not just in their bedroom in the dark - Neil expected his friend to never look up at them for the rest of the night, which was totally fine with him; progress was still progress after all.

After a shaky breath, Todd finally begins reading. “Drag me to hell / In the valley of death / Like my mother / Give wings to a stone / It’s only the shadow of a cross,” Todd’s somewhat quiet voice still echoes against the cave walls as he reads since everyone else was so silent.

Neil could already tell that he would probably need a lot of time in order to fully understand the poem, but that’s partly what enthralled him. Did Todd need to do a lot of research to even know what the poet seemed to be referencing? Was that imagery alone enough to make him want to perform this poem in front of them?

As Todd gets further through the poem, his pensive and stiff voice gradually eases into a more impassioned monologue of the work, although his anxiousness is still clear. “I slept on my back / In the shade of the meadow’s heart / Like a champion / Get drunk to forget / I take one more swig when you depart,” he reads out creakily, the cave still the most silent Neil has ever heard it with all of them in there.

The stanzas were affecting him differently this time when compared to the other poems Todd usually brought, as if they were striking some unnamed chord deep within him. It made no sense to Neil since he couldn’t really understand what the poem was about yet with its complicated metaphors and specific language. Did he prefer it just because Todd was reading it now?

Finally, Todd ends his most likely torturous experience of reading out the poem for them with three more lines, those of which feel like a punch to the gut for Neil. “I’ll drive that stake through the center of my heart / Lonely vampire inhaling its fire / I’m chasing the dragon too far,” he finishes with a slight tremble in his voice.

A few beats after he stops reading, Todd finally brings his paper down to meet eyes with the Poets, his face about five shades lighter than what Neil was expecting; he practically looked like a dead man standing up there. Once he brings the paper down, though, the Poets break out into clapping and cheering once again, clearly astounded by how good the poem was but also by how well Todd performed given how bashful he is.

As if a flip had been switched, Todd breaks out of his deer-in-the-headlights stupor and gains the color back in his face, smiling slightly as he quickly retreats back to his spot next to Neil.

“That was really good!” Cameron compliments in the midst of the clapping and cheers.

“Yeah, I didn’t really understand it, but I still liked it if that makes any sense,” Charlie comments as the cheering dies down.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Pitts refutes jokingly, causing Charlie to roll his eyes.

“No, I kind of get what he’s saying. Like I didn’t need to understand it fully for it to impact me,” Neil comes to his friend’s defense, happy to discover that someone else felt the same way.

“Well, I don’t think the poem will seem as cryptic if we just analyze the lines a bit more. Like, the poem seemed clearly biblical from the imagery of a cross to the references like the valley of death,” Meeks points out, opening up the discussion for the rest of them.

“I don’t know, it seems kind of like a love poem to me,” Knox comments, his brows furrowed as he motions for Todd to hand over the paper so they can look at it, the other boy hesitating for a second before complying.

“Oh come on, you think everything is about love,” Neil jokes as he shakes his head, knowing how lovesick his friend can get if Chris was anything to go by.

“Just like Keating,” Charlie tacks on with a half-smile.

“No, I mean- look at these lines: ‘Get drunk to forget / I take one more swig when you depart.’ Doesn’t that seem like trying to forget someone you like?” Knox points out as he motions to the paper. Getting flashbacks to the times Knox had drank too much in lieu of his eventual rejection from Chris, the group nods along at his explanation.

“I guess the line of being lonely helps that whole idea of missing a lover. But then what would the dragon be that he’s chasing?” Neil appeases, his brows furrowing as he leans to the side to look over the poem.

“Doesn’t it seem like… I don’t know, a doomed love?” Pitts voices after a gap of silence.

Charlie immediately snorts at the remark. “Yeah, right,” he chuckles at the dramatic language.

“No, Pitts has a point,” Meeks defends after Charlie’s dismissal. “The whole poem is littered with hopeless imagery like giving wings to a stone, driving a stake through your own heart, or even chasing a dragon. It just seems so… futile, I guess.”

“But that still doesn’t answer what the dragon is,” Cameron points out, sounding a bit argumentative but just trying to add onto the analysis.

“Well, what if the dragon is that hopeless love?” Neil proposes as he stares at the paper even harder. “I mean, dragons aren’t real, so maybe him chasing the dragon is him chasing an impossible dream? Something that never had a chance of being real in the first place?”

“I think we’re onto something here,” Charlie finally agrees with a smirk.

“What do you mean we? You’ve been laughing at every point we’ve made so far,” Knox argues, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“You just need a contrarian to poke holes in your theories so then they’ll be even stronger,” Charlie snarks, not missing a beat as he leans back to pretend to relax leisurely on a rock despite Neil being able to physically see his breath in front of him from how cold it is.

Cameron tries to join in on the argument, but Neil stops the conflict to focus the attention on what was actually important.

“Whatever guys, our theories don’t matter anyway unless Todd agrees,” Neil points out, causing all of them to stop fighting and suddenly turn their attention to the poet himself.

Todd, seemingly taken off guard, has an incredibly red face as he tries to avoid eye contact with them. Was he still embarrassed from reading out the poem? Neil thought he would have calmed down a bit by now since all of the attention was off of him for a while.

“So, is it really about, as Pittsie over here said, a ‘doomed love?’” Charlie asks through a half-smile, partially taking the piss but also invested to see if they were right.

A few more seconds pass as Todd goldfishes a response. “I-I don’t know,” he finally admits, causing the rest of them to groan.

“That just means we got it wrong,” Pitts laments as he groans in defeat with the rest of them.

“No, no, it’s not that!” Todd rushes to amend. “I just mean, I saw it as more than a doomed love. I saw it as like, I don’t know, a doomed life? Like the guy’s love life isn’t working, but he also talks about being dragged to hell and driving a stake through his own heart. I just thought the dream he was chasing, like the dragon, was more than just a lover but also a better life in general,” he spills out in explanation, speaking more in front of the whole group than most of them had ever heard him. From how red his face is, Neil could tell that it would feel molten hot if he held his hand up to his forehead despite the chill in the cave.

“Yeah, I guess that makes more sense,” Meeks comments after a few beats, the rest of the Poets agreeing along with him.

However, Neil stays quiet as his brows furrow, looking over his friend after that big spiel. Sure, Todd was passionate about poetry, but Neil’s not sure if he’s ever seen his friend be this passionate about simply explaining it. Usually he just nods along with whatever they come up with or gives a two sentence explanation as to why he disagreed; he had never worked so hard for them to understand a poem before. He believed in multiple interpretations, after all.

The thoughts envelop Neil’s mind and cause him to stay quiet for the rest of the meeting, which is admittedly a short amount of time since they were already wrapping up. As they run back to the school, the confusion over the poem and Todd’s reaction to it only continue to snowball in Neil’s mind. Why did Todd’s face only get redder as they analyzed the poem? Why did he hesitate to hand over the paper? Why did he insist on reading it today of all days? Why was he more passionate about this one than the others?

It isn’t until he’s tucked into his bed that Neil remembers what he said to Todd when he brought a poem to a meeting for the first time: Todd had to read his own poem if he’s the one who wrote it. So does that mean Laurence Rich was a pseudonym, that the poem was actually Todd’s? It would explain a lot of the odd behavior Neil had been wracking over in his mind.

Turning his head over to look at his friend settled into bed, Neil decides not to pry. If it truly was his own poem, Todd had to be exhausted from just the vulnerability he had shown tonight. Maybe whether the poem was his own or not was a question for another day.

“Todd, you awake?” Neil whispers out, not wanting to wake him up if his friend was already asleep.

“Mmm,” Todd mumbles back, confirming that he was awake but not incredibly so.

“I…” Neil trails off, trying to figure out just how he wanted to phrase it. “You should be proud of what you did tonight. I know it’s not easy for you.”

Neil knows he should feel mortified being this sentimental with his friend since they were never usually this sappy, but he can’t find it in himself to care when he’s so filled with pride for his friend going so out of his comfort zone tonight, whether it was his own poem or not.

Usually Todd would just snort at such a sentiment, shrugging it off before saying something self-deprecating, but tonight he just lets out a small “thanks” before falling back into silence.

Maybe Todd learning how to accept a compliment instead of reinforcing it to backfire was enough for now. That was nice.

As Neil drifts off to sleep, though, he realizes that Todd being the author of the poem from tonight would only pose more questions than answers. If it truly was Todd’s, then who was his doomed love? But even in the grand scheme of things, that seemed less important. If it actually was Todd's writing, how could Neil convince him that his life itself was not doomed?

Given Todd’s crazy leap of faith to presumably read his own poem in front of all of the Poets, – he still wasn’t ready to ask him about that yet – Neil feels a bit inspired to take a leap himself. The next day, he had found himself digging through the junk in his desk drawer to pull out the college application Keating gave to him last semester.

He had never planned on actually looking at it, but he had promised Todd to at least think about it a while ago, so seeing his friend go so out of his own comfort zone while Neil stayed in the exact same place as always made him start to feel guilty.

So despite the scoff that automatically makes its way out of his mouth when he imagines going to a school called The Academy of Art College, Neil prevents himself from immediately dismissing the idea. He owed it to Todd and Keating to at least look it over fully before he made any decision about it.

Along with the application, Keating had slipped him a brochure which gave a rundown of the college and its unique services for its students. Although Neil had been flipping through it absentmindedly with the intention of skimming, he felt himself stopping and staring at the images of the campus more often than not. From the brief overview, the college actually seemed really nice despite not being ivy league, like something that might have been his dream school if he were allowed such things.

He shakes his head to himself as soon as he realizes that he was getting invested in the college; it’s not like he could ever attend it anyway. Shoving the brochure back into his desk, Neil reminds himself how stupid dreams were when he already had his life laid out for him.

Even though he couldn’t afford to become invested in a college he could never go to in the first place, Neil still can’t resist the idea of applying to the academy just for fun. So rather than enjoying his rare free time like any normal kid his age would, Neil started filling out the application to a college he would never go to. As he filled out the tedious questions along with the more thoughtful ones, he humored himself by imagining how Todd answered all of these inquiries.

As Neil’s nearing the end of his application, however, he is halted by a daunting question asking him to include a portfolio of his artistic work. Right, you had to be good at some form of art if you wanted to get into an art school. What even was a portfolio? Neil knew about practical things like chemistry and algebra, not whatever artsy terms these were.

He imagined asking Todd what he included whenever his friend eventually returned to their room at the end of free time, but the idea immediately mortifies Neil. Asking such stupid questions would just let his friend realize it was a mistake to encourage him to apply to a place where Neil had no chance of getting into in the first place. So that option was ruled out.

Right before Neil gives up on the idea entirely, he considers asking Keating about what a portfolio is since he would maybe understand how there was no opportunity for him to learn much about the arts here – Neil highly doubted there were any artistic books in Welton’s library. Sure, it would be embarrassing, but teachers have to teach kids about shit they don’t know all of the time. It would be different than Neil admitting he knew nothing about art to his friend who believed he was talented in the field.

So before Neil can talk himself out of it and throw the application away altogether, he decides to trek to Keating’s office to ask him the simple question. Although it was a normal thing, approaching his teacher’s door was surprisingly daunting since he hadn’t visited Keating during his free time in ages. He was always afraid of what his dad was going to do if he found out, but Neil pushed that feeling aside for now. He could either let that lingering fear dictate the rest of his life, or he could choose to overcome it, which is what he was doing now.

Keating answers the door promptly after the three solid knocks Neil gave, his gaze landing on him and softening. He tries not to read too much into it.

“Why, hello Neil. I was wondering when you would come visit me,” he welcomes as he opens the door wider to let him in, his office just as cramped and uncomfortable as Neil remembered, though still somehow charming.

Keating makes some room for him to sit and offers him tea, but Neil politely declines as he sits in the only open spot other than Keating’s desk. Grabbing his own mug of tea, Keating sits at his desk and then starts to dramatize his movements as if he was some villain within a lair or a self-important business mogul.

“Now, to what do I owe this pleasure?” Keating asks after pulling his sleeves back with a flourish. His antics spark a small laugh out of Neil despite how tense he is. He reminds himself that he needs to relax, that Keating wasn’t a hard-headed adult seeking out any and every opportunity to scrutinize his students unlike the rest of the teachers at Welton.

“Well, I just had a question is all,” Neil admits, hoping he wasn’t letting his teacher down by not being here just to hang out. He starts to wonder if Todd has ever been in this room before but for the sole purpose of just speaking with Keating. It had to be a regular occurrence, especially with what Todd sleepily revealed to him some nights ago.

“Alright then, ask away,” Keating replies airily as he leans back in his office chair, sipping on his tea as he does so.

“Well, I was looking over the application you gave me, you know, the one for that college in California?” he poses, waiting for Keating’s nod to confirm that he was following what he was saying. “Well, I got to the end but wasn’t sure what they meant by portfolio.”

“Ah, I see,” Keating affirms with a smile that doesn't seem condescending or cruel, setting his tea down to rest his elbows on the table in contemplation. “Well, a portfolio is basically a collection of work to show your talent and range in a certain field. Traditionally, an artistic portfolio calls for a few sketches, paintings, or pictures of someone’s craftsmanship so a school can get a good idea of what the student has to offer. The tricky part here is that you don’t draw or paint, is that right?” he asks, seeming to be deep in thought as he explains the whole situation to Neil.

He shakes his head in response, his heart dropping a bit. Did he really have to be an artist to apply for this college?

“I thought so. It also depends on what you’re applying for. The example I just gave is if you wanted to go into their traditional arts program. If you wanted to get into their literature program, you would include some of your written work. If you wanted to get into their theater program, though, you would have to go and audition in person since there’s not a written way to translate that talent,” he explains further, gesturing gently as he spoke. His brows are furrowed, probably wondering where Neil fit into all of these possible choices.

“What if… what if I had something written that I could submit? A creative writing project?” Neil asks tentatively, not wanting to give too much away since he couldn’t afford to tell Keating about his secret play.

His eyes light up at the entry despite how vague Neil is intentionally being. “That could work. It depends on how long the project is, though. For example, you wouldn’t want to send them a whole self-written novel. If it’s longer, it would be best to send an excerpt for your portfolio so they could get an idea of what you can do while still not making them want to throw your whole application away.”

Neil nods along with Keating’s explanation, starting to regain the hope he had earlier for applying to the college. Maybe it could be possible after all. As his mind is racing over the possibilities, though, he comes to a hitch.

“Would I have to copy over my excerpt by hand if I wanted to keep a copy of it for myself?” Neil asks, already thinking about the hand cramp he was about to have. Not to mention, he didn’t know how soon this application was due, so he might need to rush in order to copy it over.

“Yes, well, that would traditionally be the case, but Welton recently received a new state-of-the-art copy machine. The teachers are still testing it out, but I’m sure it wouldn’t be a problem for me to scan and copy a few papers for you, especially given how soon the application is due if you want a response by May,” Keating offers, his speech thoughtful and his smile wide by the end of his proposition.

“Really?” Neil can’t help but ask in a tone of joy and relief. “That would be a life saver.”

Neil already had an idea for what he would send in for his portfolio; it was a scene he had written when he had gotten this one idea stuck in his head, and the more he worked on it, the more he was convinced that it would be the final scene of his play. It would be a gutsy move, but he assumed that applying to such an impossible college was already a gutsy move, so what was one more?

“Of course. Just get the pages you want me to copy to me before the end of the week and there shouldn’t be any problems,” Keating asserts, Neil nodding along attentively.

What he just said caused something to sink in for the first time for Neil, though: Keating would have to look at his excerpt if he were to copy it. Neil was already extremely insecure about his play, so having his teacher be able to look over it in his own time without much context only seemed like a humiliating and mortifying experience from Neil’s perspective.

“Before I give you my pages, though, I would like to, I don’t know, have you agree to one condition,” Neil finds himself saying, truly being more bold than he ever has been around his teacher despite his unsure mumbling.

Luckily, his assertive speech only serves to amuse Keating as a smile spreads across his face rather than piss him off. “And what would that condition be?” he asks as he leans back in his chair with a spark in his eyes as he assesses his student.

“For you to not look over or read my portfolio?” Neil asks almost through a wince, not wanting to sound like the most ungrateful student in the world but probably still achieving it. “I understand it’ll probably be very difficult for you to not read it when you’re making copies, but it’s very… personal, I guess, and–”

“Neil, you don’t have to worry,” Keating chuckles out, thankfully cutting his rambling short. Easing back into his seat, Neil feels a small smile take up his face given Keating’s laidback nature. “I would never read a student’s work without permission. I may accidentally catch sight of a word or two, but I promise I won’t read your portfolio."

The reassurance causes Neil to let out a subtle sigh of relief, though he’s not sure why he let himself get so worked up in the first place. It’s Keating he was talking to, for chrissakes, of course he wouldn’t go behind Neil’s back just to read a few papers.

“Thank you,” Neil replies genuinely, feeling the same odd feeling build behind his eyes as when he talked to Keating last semester. Why did he always have the urge to cry around his teacher when it was just them two? Where was the logic in that when Keating was his favorite teacher?

“Of course,” Keating reassures, making the fact that Neil was going to actually submit this application a fact in his mind rather than some abstract idea he would mull over.

After a bit more conversation and a friendly handshake, Neil was leaving Keating’s office and heading back to his room with his head in the clouds. He couldn’t help but muse over the possibility of an excerpt of his play being enough to get him into the college; wouldn’t that be confirmation that all of the positive and encouraging Todd gave him was actually true and not just pleasantries?

As he’s thinking about the campus and the unique opportunities around the academy on his way back to his room, though, Neil feels himself come to a sudden stop due to one realization: what did it matter? Even if he got into the college, even if his skill in scriptwriting was confirmed, what did it matter since he was just going to become a doctor anyway?

Just like last year, Neil felt like an idiot for letting his heart get ahead of his mind, for letting his spirits get so high before reality had to burst his bubble. Why did his mind feel the need to construct this stupid, blooming hope in his chest at any opportunity of a life which was not his own? It only made crushing that persisting feeling the more devastating as he had to come to terms with the insignificant life which had already been outlined for him.

The rhythmic crunching of the snow started to feel slightly militant to Neil every now and then when the class would fall into sync for a few stray steps, reminding him of the constant and brutal marches he endured at camp. All they needed was some maniac yelling to keep them in sync and he would feel right at home.

Mr. Keating was leading them out into the forest despite the snow coating the school grounds; February was always the worst when it came to snowfall. Neil had missed having fun lessons outside of the classroom, but he feels it may be a bit too soon as he sees his breath rhythmically appear in front of his face.

Each of them, for better or for worse, had their papers of shitty poetry clad in their hands. It was the dreaded Valentine’s Day class which meant it was time for them to read whatever love poems they came up with in front of everyone. Neil wasn’t entirely sure as to why they were being led out into the cold wilderness since having to read out their poetry seemed to be punishment enough, but he supposed Keating was a unique kind of evil when he wanted to be.

Finally, they come to an abrupt stop when Keating dramatically extends his arms out to his full wingspan, signaling for them to halt before turning around to face them. Seeing what was most likely their bewildered faces, Keating’s face breaks out into a smile despite how windburnt it already was.

“Now, I assume you’re all wondering why I brought you out into the harsh cold of February in Vermont on a special day like Valentine’s Day, am I right?” Mr. Keating asks his class.

The rest of them nod along, Neil making eye contact with most of his friends and making a face as if to silently say “what’s his deal?” Though they all loved him as a teacher, Neil found that they never stopped being baffled by his antics like the first day of class junior year, Charlie’s eyebrows shooting up with a smirk on his face to indicate to the rest of him that yes, this teacher had to be insane. Their glances of confirmation that they were not the only ones who thought he was bizarre had become a routine part of Keating’s classes for the Poets; it was part of the fun.

“Well, I figured that you all had such a hard time grasping my lesson on ‘The Gift of the Magi’ simply because you simply do not know how love feels. Like I promised last week, I’m going to attempt to accurately describe it to you since I doubt many of you have been struck by Cupid yet,” Keating explains, causing Neil to think back on their last lesson over the reading. Yeah, they had all seemed pretty lost at the time, and he doubted anyone had fallen in love within the week of the lesson.

After finishing his statement, Keating suddenly springs into action and jumps over something as if there was an invisible wire in the air, putting him a foot or two away from the rest of the class. The students in the front start to follow him, but he brings them to a halting stop when he yells for them to stay where they are.

“Look down boys and see why I jumped,” Mr. Keating provides for his explanation, a glint in his eye which he usually got when he was about to give a lesson he knew would challenge them.

Having to crowd around since the Poets usually kept to the back on such expeditions, Neil eventually sees something among the slush coating the ground which he could not possibly predict: a flower in the middle of the snow. It’s easy to miss since it’s small, white, and bends towards the ground, but now that Neil has spotted it, he can’t seem to look away. Breaking his vision from the flower after a few beats, he looks up to find Keating’s eyes sparkling as he absorbs all of his students taking in this anomaly.

“I thought this illustration might assist me in the impossible task of explaining love,” Keating provides as he excitedly surveils his students’ reactions to the situation. “The first thing to know about love: it is as improbable as it is illogical, especially to outsiders looking in. I mean, look at this flower. It’s in the middle of February, there are inches upon inches of inches of snow coating the ground, yet this organism still finds a way to live on. It may not make sense to us, but this flower is a unique result of a private relationship between nature and evolution.”

Looking around the hoard of students, Keating seems to check if anyone else had any questions before going further with his ambitious goal of describing what love felt like to a bunch of bookish teenage boys. “Now, starting with what you all probably know, I’m sure you’ve seen the kind of love portrayed in the movies, in songs, or in novels where it’s love at first sight, where the first kiss feels like fireworks, where it’s happily ever after. Even the most regarded authors and poets were not immune to the illogical effects of love, like Shakespeare comparing his lover to a summer’s day. But is that how love feels in the real world?” he asks rhetorically as he tries to keep his students engaged with the topic despite the chill they were all feeling now that they were standing still in the snow.

Despite trying to listen and understand what Keating was describing seriously, Neil couldn’t help but feel amused at the lengths his teacher was going to. They were out there freezing in the snow while they should be in the warm classroom, yet it felt as if Keating was seconds away from breaking out into some sappy melody about a true love’s kiss, which Neil wouldn’t put past him.

Looking across the huddle to his friends, Charlie and Pitts seem just as amused at the tangent, Charlie going as far to subtly point towards Keating and widen his eyes as he smiled as if to say “can you believe this guy?” Neil suppresses a laugh at Charlie, his mouth turning up while he tries to tamper down the corners into a frown, and refocuses his attention to observe the way Meeks seems somewhat interested compared to how invested Knox looks at the description, as if he fully understood and it was paining him to be reminded.

Unsurprisingly, Todd also looks invested in the explanation when Neil manages to catch a glimpse of him. Maybe being interested was just a symptom of being a poet; Neil couldn’t think of any other possible explanation unless Todd had some secret dame back home he was hopelessly devoted to. He supposes it wasn’t entirely impossible since Todd never talked about his life before Welton, and he had shared that borderline love poem with them the other night. Whatever, Neil decides to focus again on the lecture since he feels his throat closing at his previous thoughts, and he owes it to his teacher for trying to help the class understand something as abstract as love anyway.

“Well, from what I’ve seen and experienced, love can make you just as irrational as Juliet committing suicide when she thinks Romeo has died, just as irrational as Cathy haunting Heathcliff decades after dying, and just as irrational as a flower growing out here despite it being in the throes of winter,” Mr. Keating jokes as he keeps his speech directed at each and every one of his students, causing Neil to try to avoid making eye contact with his friends now since he couldn’t afford to start laughing when Keating was paying full attention to him.

“But like this flower, love is a beautiful thing between two people which requires no justification for its existence. Sure, you may have questions, but this flower doesn’t have to explain why or how it exists to anyone to keep on living, and I think that's beautiful,” he continues, causing everyone to observe the quiet and beautiful anomaly of the organism.

“Now,” Keating says suddenly, snapping them out of their stares at the flower, “to prepare you for the day Cupid inevitably comes knocking on your door with his arrows ready, there are all sorts of physical symptoms of love as well to look out for if you’re ever wondering if you might be feeling it towards a special lady. Usually when you like a girl, you might start to have a rapid heartbeat, feel some warmth spread to your face, and speaking may become an impossible task as you become a stuttering mess. If you really like someone, I’ve found that it’s even hard to breathe at times because, and excuse me for sounding sappy boys, but because your chest swells with so much love that it takes up the space of your lungs,” Keating spins poetically out of thin air.

Even though Neil wasn’t taking this lesson as seriously as Keating’s others, partially due to the blistering cold and also due to his lack of interest in an irrelevant topic like love, he still can’t help but become invested as his teacher starts spontaneously coming up with such grand descriptions which make him believe that his claim of poetry melting like honey from his mouth back when he had society meetings was not just an exaggerated proclamation but more so an accurate accord of those nights.

Towards the end of the description, especially when Keating starts going over the shortness of breath one typically experiences when in love with a girl, Neil feels his face redden despite his initial disinterest as his eyes dart towards Todd. His mind flashes back to all of the times it felt painfully hard to breathe just in the presence of his friend, the way he would sometimes just have to lay in his bed with his face to the ceiling while he thought of other things than Todd in order to get full control of his lungs back.

But that couldn’t be right, love being the answer and all, since Todd was a boy. Todd was his friend. Surely that’s just how it felt to have a close friend which you valued highly, in the case of boys anyway. Neil had never felt these explained feelings towards a girl, so he had no idea how to tell if what he felt for Todd truly was what Keating was getting at.

With a sinking feeling in his gut, his mind cuts to all of the times he accidentally went into detail about Todd’s golden hair, about his cerulean eyes, his quiet yet present demeanor within his play. Had Neil been obsessed with his friend all this time? Could there be any other explanation to this subconscious obsession other than a festering crush?

Neil shakes off the thought as quickly as it formed, assuring himself that he only accidentally wrote so much about Todd purely because they were always in such close quarters. It would be more concerning if he didn’t write about him more, he eventually concludes.

Could Neil love him? The wriggling thought alone which broke through his nonchalant facade makes him wince, as if he placed his hand on a burning stove despite his mother firmly warning him not to. But that’s not a generous enough description; it felt more like Neil had ransacked his own house from floorboards to rooftop, like he gutted his family of their most precious and prized possessions and burned them all in a heaping fire out of cruelty, out of the sake of nothing except selfishness.

Loving Todd, his dear friend Todd, would mean that Neil was all of the cruel words his father threw around, that he was who his mother tsked and closed her ears to when she so much as heard the word “homosexual” uttered.

Disgusting, that is what his family had called it the one time in the car when the radio host talked of a gay man being killed in the area by a group of drunk men late at night. At first, Neil had assumed his mother and father were referring to the heinous act of murder, to the mere visual of a drunken tirade of scary men resulting in a death, presumably a brutal and beaten one as well.

But then more was said. Better to clear the streets of them; faggots are really undoing this country. His father had uttered that, disgust so clear in his voice that it felt like he was spitting in Neil’s face despite being in the back seat, despite not being a degenerate, as his father would say, himself.

He never understood why the words hurt him so. He had always assumed it was the lack of empathy for another human life, and maybe it was, but Neil had also felt bad because this nameless man was donned with one of the worst insults one could have been given in death. Was there any way to prove he was gay, really? Was there any way to disprove it now that he was dead and gone?

That's what Neil always thought was the reason why his heart ached then, but now he was questioning if there was more to the sick pit in his gut when conversations like that would come up. Was that why his gut dropped when his father insinuated that Mr. Keating was queer on his phone call with him last semester? Was that why he immediately assumed he was weak, immediately assumed that he was different from the strong when Keating brought up the idea of mice and men amongst them?

All of those sermons he sat through growing up, all of the chapels he attended at Welton, he had always assumed a pit formed in his gut because deep down he didn’t believe in god, that he was secretly guilty of the sin of unbelief no matter how much he wanted to be like his parents: blindly faithful in an absent god.

But now he wonders if that pit in his gut was for another reason, that he felt sick because he was who the priest was lamenting, that he was cursed to eternal damnation. Disgusting. Was that really what he was? Even though he couldn’t accept that he truly loved Todd the way Keating was describing, was loving someone truly that wrong in the first place?

However, Neil snaps himself out of his spiral when Keating continues on with the lesson, not allowing himself to linger on the rapid acidic thoughts taking up his mind or the bile rising from the back of his throat. Despite his internal panic, Neil would just do what he always did when he felt unsavory emotions: throw on a mask and put on an act until they went away.

Suddenly, he’s a lot more interested in what his teacher has to say on the matter of love, anything to distract him from his storming mind, anything to fall into playing the role of the upstanding student. He has enough sense to not look at Todd anymore, but he can feel the boy’s eyes on the side of his head all the same.

“Now, I can talk with any of you after class if you still need some help understanding love, but hopefully my explanations and this flower here were enough to shed some enlightenment,” Mr. Keating closes the lecture with a satisfied smile. “Anyway, enough of my inane ramblings of love; it’s time to hear some of your own! If you follow me, just a few trees down, there’s a magnificent stump which I would like each of you to stand on to deliver your poetry!”

Keating’s excited transition just serves to make his students groan once again about the assignment and the weather, being snapped out of the pleasant analysis of a miracle flower to face the reality of public humiliation. Hearing that this social suicide would occur on a stump further instilled in Neil that this was a cruel execution rather than a harmless group exercise, though he couldn’t say he was upset with the distraction.

“Oh, I don’t want to hear about you being cold. Your passion should keep you warmed enough!” Keating exclaimed resolutely as they walked to the new location. Neil could practically hear the snarky remarks racing through all of their heads in lieu of the silence after the statement, not even Charlie being bold enough to voice them since now was not the time to get out of Keating’s good graces.

It’s not long before they eventually trudge to the stump, it being so wide and large that Neil now understands why something like a platform came to Keating’s mind when he found it. After wiping off the snow and ice settled atop the protrusion, Keating turns to them and waits expectantly for a volunteer.

“Well,” he says after a few awkward seconds of everyone shuffling in place and looking at their shoes, “if no one volunteers, I suppose I’ll have to go through you all alphabetically to remain impartial.”

Despite the initial relief Neil feels at this development since he fell perfectly in the middle of his classmates alphabetically, his head snaps up in a panic matching Todd’s when he realizes that this means his friend will have to go first, being an Anderson and all.

Todd looks almost as pale as the white glistening snow surrounding them, and the rest of the Poets have half a mind to look worried on his behalf as well. Keating has a slight smile as if this was his plan all along, because although he is a great teacher, he also would not stop at any limits of their perceived humiliation in the name of invoking genius out of his students.

“I’ll go,” Neil’s mouth says before his brain can decide against it, causing him to bite his tongue punishingly after he interjects. Keating’s sly smile breaks out into a pleasantly surprised and warm one as his attention turns to him.

Shit, Neil had never meant to be at the center of attention in his class, at least not when he didn’t have lines of a script to recite. His mind had already been all scrambled and seeing Todd in such distress pushed him over the line. He supposes this will help with his dutiful student act, at least.

“Be my guest, Mr. Perry,” Keating says as he gestures to the stump with a flared arm.

Before he freezes in place or lets something as stupid as stage fright get the better of him, Neil ambles onto the stump. Right, he was the fearless and outgoing person in his friend group, and that’s who he would continue to be.

Facing the class' unrelenting gazes now, he swallows and coughs slightly to clear his throat. Charlie looks as if he just scored a homerun with how amused he is as do the rest of the Poets save for Todd, who has an unreadable look on his face. Whatever, Anderson owed him.

“Um, this poem is titled ‘The Window,’” Neil announces lamely, not surprised at the quiet laughter which breaks out among the class. Everyone was admittedly nervous because no matter how fun it was to laugh at the poor sod on the stump, they all would be next eventually. Neil doesn’t let it get to him, and rather gathers the courage within him to continue with his act.

Now, he probably spent more time stressing over his application to a college he would never go to and Todd having to read out a poem of his own than the time he spent focusing on this assignment, something he was coming to regret heavily. He already wasn’t the strongest poet, and when he finally attempted to write something for this class, he had gotten preoccupied with debating whether it would be better or worse to have a cheesy love poem that rhymed. He landed on a weird middle where his lines mainly consisted of slant rhymes, which hopefully wouldn’t make performing it all that embarrassing.

He also had no clue as to what the first step of writing of a love poem was given that love wasn’t a familiar feeling, so he had gone for the idea of loving everything except for where he was at the given moment. To be honest, Neil was filled with a lot of hate and spite since his dad had sent him off to military camp, so he found that writing about the topic of love still revolved around those sentiments inevitably.

“Where I want to be / Passes through me,” Neil starts reading out, trying not to hide behind his paper the way Todd did the other night but rather seem casual in his presentation. Now he understood just how hard it was to read your own poetry out loud, to bare your soul like that. “Sunlight pours in through the window / I watch it from my seat / A life just out of reach / I’ll be forever searching.”

Despite their giggles in the beginning, the class is dead silent now, which Neil considers even worse. He would rather them laugh over what he’s saying rather than listen attentively, especially since he knew what he wrote was pretty rudimentary in comparison to what people like Todd probably wrote.

He felt so bare because he had never really meant for his poem to take on as much meaning as it did. He started off talking about wanting to be anywhere else than the study room writing fucking poetry of all things, but then his mind wandered and dreamt of where he actually wanted to be if he was given the choice. And of course with that line of thinking, it made Neil think of who he would want to bring along.

Todd’s poem from the other night had really stuck in his mind, because really, Neil’s poem ended up being a desolate imitation of it. They had the same message, essentially, of wanting a different and hopeful life. Just the thought of that festering in his mind caused his brain to spew out even more lines, and Neil hadn’t thought better of removing them before it was too late. Given the crisis he was pushing off with his act, the one which was still banging at the corners of his mind to be let into his main stream of thought, keeping his poem so unfiltered was a horrible mistake.

“I pressed myself in / The words you wrote / Did you mean them? / Did you know?” Neil reads out, hating how his voice shook and echoed off of the snow. He knows he went too far with his final lines in regards to speculating about Todd and his writing; it’s just like his play with how he couldn’t help but write about him. Neil wants to take the last lines back, wants to erase them to never be seen again, but the words are in front of him now, and he can’t help from letting them fall from his mouth. “Clinging on tightly / To the stones you throw / Would you notice / If I let go?”

God, he really was in love with Todd, wasn’t he?

Shaking off that thought as quickly as it came once again and finally being done with the torturous task of reading out his own intellectual property, Neil looks up from his paper and to his classmates. He hates himself for seeking out Keating’s reaction first, always hungry for his approval.

To his surprise, Keating looks warmly at him with almost a sense of awe on his face. Neil had read out poetry last school year before Todd eventually had to go and show everyone up, and he had received polite claps and a pleased smile from Keating, but this was different. Now, everyone clapped more rigorously than he recalled them doing for him last time, and he would even venture to say that Keating looked impressed. Maybe indulging in his creative writing habit, having more involved Society meetings, and helping Todd with his own poetry served him some good in the poetry writing department?

“Wonderful start to our session, Mr. Perry,” Mr. Keating congratulates earnestly before turning to the rest of the class while Neil jumps down and joins the rest of the lot. “Now, which of you are next?”

Neil felt pretty proud of being someone intimidating to follow, even if the main reason for it being that no one else in the class really tried on the assignment. He lets that thought distract him for now, riding off of that high to avoid the wriggling thoughts about Todd which are desperate to pull him to the depths below.

The class continues on, some reciting sonnets about Kindergarten crushes while others proclaimed love for things such as pets or even the cars their fathers gave them. Although he may be partial, Neil feels like all of the Poets have stepped up their poetry game from last year. Even Charlie’s poem is fairly earnest and insightful despite it being revealed in the end to be about Audrey Hepburn.

Then comes the time Neil had been anticipating for the whole class: Todd’s turn. He wondered if he was imagining the charge in the air, the anticipation for Todd to go from the rest of the class feeling palpable to him. Todd did make a lasting impression, after all, and he wouldn’t be surprised if everyone else was interested to see what the boy could actually prepare given the time to configure a poem rather than spin one from thin air.

Todd went for what was supposed to be Neil’s strategy, opting to go during the middle of the bunch rather than at the beginning or end so no one was prone to remember his performance, though he does it a bit later than what Neil would have preferred for himself. He was most likely putting it off for as long as possible until he couldn’t anymore.

Todd doesn’t look happy about it, though, his face almost agonized when Keating actually picks him to go despite the number of raised hands. After he gets up onto the stump, Neil’s shocked that he doesn’t outright faint given how pale he looks.

Shoving his face behind his paper the exact same way he did during the last Society meeting like Neil anticipated he would, Todd reads out the title of his poem. “This poem is called ‘Love is All Maroon,’” Todd mumbles out almost begrudgingly. As if to spite him, Keating pipes up.

“Please speak up, Mr. Anderson, so the rest of the class can hear you,” he says through a smile, almost seeming amused at the frustrated crinkle of Todd’s paper in response. Neil had assumed becoming close with Keating would earn you more perks, not curse you to being tormented more. Maybe Todd was just Keating's antithesis, his shyness opposite to their teacher's brazen nature, and that made him want to break Todd out of his shell even more; Neil wasn’t sure.

As Todd repeated his title, it looked less like he was frustratedly rolling his eyes and more like he was looking up to god to spare him from this presumably wretched experience. Once he’s done with that, he finally starts reading out his poem.

“I am akin to a fly on the wall / Blind to all / It’s only you which I adore / Nothing’s more,” Todd begins, immediately flooring Neil with how his description of love is so simple yet profound. Nothing’s more. Neil wishes that is how love could feel, wishes that’s how he could address how he feels for Todd.

What doesn’t help is that this description of love does nothing to help Neil from fighting off the storm threatening to rage in his mind. At moments like this, Neil really does just feel like a fly on the wall who is lucky enough to be able to witness Todd in motion, lucky enough to be alive at the same time as him and breathing the same air as him. Before he can freak out any more, Todd reads out the rest of his poem begrudgingly.

“Only love is all maroon / Lapping lakes like leery loons / Leaving rope burns / Reddish rouge,” he finishes, barely peeking out from the top of his paper to look at Keating in a silent plea to be finished.

Sure, it was short, but god did Todd’s poem pack a punch, per usual. Everyone clapped loudly once they were sure he was done, and it was enough to make Todd go bright red as he retreated from the stump, hoping to be forgotten once again.

For one reason or another, Todd settles next to Neil with a woosh of air to stake out the rest of class. Despite the cold he had been enduring for the better part of a class period, Neil still feels his face warm up as his friend stands by him, and it takes everything not to beam at Todd.

While some meathead from class stepped up to rhyme “love” with “baseball glove,” Neil couldn’t stop his mind from racing over and over again those last four lines of poetry Todd had submitted to the air.

Todd, once again, was endlessly right. Love was maroon; it was warm and it was passion and it was intensity and it was pain. Love could make you a loon, but it could also leave rope burns, leave painful marks as proof of passion becoming too much.

Neil had thought that all along he had no clue what love felt like, assumed it was something he would feel someday when he had the time for it, just to realize that it was love which seized his lungs and kept his hand writing about Todd despite knowing better.

He denied it still, he figured it would be something he denied for the rest of his life, but Neil couldn’t help but think of the wildflowers he picked for him, think of the Walt Whitman book he bought for him, think of the teddy bear he crocheted for him. He could deny all he wanted, but there wasn’t much else he could attribute to all of those inane actions other than love. Friendship even seemed to be a scapegoat now since he had never gone to such lengths for Charlie or the others.

So maybe he did love Todd, but even with this realization, that just left one question: who did Todd love enough in order to make such an accurate poem?

Ever since the realization that Neil most likely had stronger feelings for Todd than just camaraderie, – though he still denies it – the nights they spend washing up have become more difficult. To Neil’s luck, Todd was more modest than the rest of them, always wearing a shirt and shorts even after a shower rather than just a towel like everyone else. However, Neil still finds himself staring at the other boy through the reflection in the mirror as he brushes his teeth, Todd oblivious to it as he sits on the ledge of the windowsill behind him and dries his hair with his towel.

The unspoken code in the bathrooms and showers was to keep your eyes to yourself, a rule which Neil had no trouble following before, so he doesn’t understand why he can’t take his eyes off of his friend now despite trying to peel them away.

“Hurry up, you’ve been brushing your teeth for like three minutes now,” Cameron complains, finally snapping Neil out of his stupor and causing him to spit the froth in his mouth into the sink.

“You just don’t brush your teeth for long enough,” Charlie snarks through the toothbrush and froth in his mouth, causing the rest of the surrounding Poets to laugh at Cam’s expense.

“I know that’s wrong because I time it to be two minutes exactly,” Cameron counters, causing their laughter to increase even more.

“You know that doesn’t help your case at all, don’t you?” Pitts asks through his laugh, washing out his toothbrush in the sink before propping up next to Todd to wait for the others to finish.

Slinging his towel over his shoulder, Todd pushes off from the ledge to grab his toothbrush and some toothpaste before taking the sink where Pitts was, accidentally cutting Cameron off from the spot since he was probably in his own world. Even Neil can’t help but snicker now as he washes his toothbrush in the sink before retreating to sit on the ledge next to Pitts.

“What? What are you all laughing at?” Todd asks obliviously as Cameron huffs and takes the free sink Neil left behind rather than complaining.

“Nothing, just your impeccable timing as always,” Meeks reassures through his laughter, the commotion finally dying down now that Cameron had finally reached his goal and was no longer entertaining. Still confused, Todd begins brushing his teeth with a furrow in his brow.

He catches Neil’s eyes in the reflection to probably ask for a silent explanation, – they shared secret glances like that all the time now – but instead of waving off his concern casually like he usually would, Neil feels himself look away and his neck heat up as if he had been caught doing something despicable.

He hated how guilty he felt around Todd now that he realized his feelings towards him were more complicated than he initially assumed. It’s not like it’s Todd’s fault that Neil was probably a degenerate, so he found even the shortest of glances or slightest of touch to be some incarnate sin.

Luckily, the Poets start talking about something palatable which helps Neil take his mind off of the horrible uncertainty that had overtaken his life.

“I can’t believe it’s only the first day of March and McAllister is already prepping us for our finals,” Knox complains after he spits out the toothpaste from his mouth.

“It’s senior year at Hellton, what else would you expect?” Neil asks rhetorically, his voice sarcastic since he wasn’t happy about the pressure on academics recently either.

“Don’t you know the four pillars?” Charlie asks, causing the rest of them to laugh as they recite them in sync. “Travesty, horror, decadence, and excrement.”

They should probably be sick of that joke by now, but defacing their school was always cathartic given how much trouble it often caused them. Neil figured all seven of them would still be able to recite the four words decades from now with little to prompt them since they had become the actual pillars of the school in their own way.

“We’ll just have to study up some more. After the finals, we can relax all summer before college,” Cameron supplies, trying to get everyone on the same page as to how important studying is. That being the last thing they wanted to hear, though, they all groan in response to his entry to the conversation.

“I feel like I’m going to have to be studying till I die,” Neil groans, thinking of all of the studying he’ll have to do for the years and years of medical school he was about to enter. Not all of them could be accountants like Cam.

“Hey, where do you and Todd go to study during free time anyway?” Charlie asks after he spits and rinses his mouth, causing Neil’s blood to suddenly run cold.

“Wh-what do you mean?” he asks too quickly in response, hoping his face remains impartial and isn’t reflecting the panic he’s feeling. Looking to Todd’s reflection now, he sees he appears just as startled as Neil feels since he’s briefly paused in brushing his teeth with widened eyes.

“Yeah, one time we went to your room to ask a question about calculus, but no one was in,” Meeks adds on, just digging the hole even deeper for the two of them. Shit, he should have known the Poets would have picked up at some point or another that they don’t actually study in their room.

“You went into our room?” Neil asks, having to cover for both of them since Todd was taking his sweet time to brush his teeth now that a borderline interrogation was underway.

“We weren’t going to, but Charlie thought that you guys were taking a nap and wanted to pull the shaving cream prank on you,” Pitts admits easily upon the question, causing Charlie’s mouth to agape as he feigned betrayal.

“That was supposed to be our little secret,” Charlie dramatically reprimands as if he’s been wounded, his hands over his heart and everything.

“Breaking into our room was supposed to be your ‘little secret?’” Neil asks incredulously, figuring this was a good way to derail the conversation from his and Todd’s whereabouts during free time.

“We left right after we saw you weren’t in-” Charlie starts before he’s cut off.

“It was all Charlie’s idea and doing. He’s to blame,” Knox sells him out immediately, causing them all to laugh at the interaction. Neil wasn’t actually mad, and he’s glad that his friends can tell that too since he didn’t actually feel like fighting right now, just wanting to drag the conversation out for longer.

“See? I’m not a nark,” Cameron tacks on once he’s spat out his toothpaste.

“Untrue. This is just proof that you’re not the only nark,” Meeks counters, causing their giggles to pick up again. A few more moments pass with the easy energy in the air before it’s broken again.

“Wait, you never said where you guys go during study time?” Knox asks after a few beats, causing Neil to mentally curse him. Why was he so attentive all of the sudden?

“Well, I don’t know where Todd goes, but I usually go to the staircase on the left side of campus,” Neil said as he tried his best to seem casual, leaning back on the ledge on his hands.

Luckily, their debacle beforehand gave him enough time to think of a different secluded place that none of the Poets frequented so there wouldn’t be a chance for any of them to contradict him. He just mentally hopes that Todd has enough time to come up with an answer that isn’t the cave or the rooftop since he doesn’t want him revealing where they actually go and he’s sure Meeks and Pitts definitely go to the latter every now and then to use the radio.

“Todd?” Charlie asks for the rest of them, all of their eyes turning to him now. Seeing as how he couldn’t brush his teeth forever, Todd was finally spitting out the toothpaste and washing his toothbrush when the attention was brought onto him.

His face reddens, but luckily that’s what usually happens when Todd receives any sort of attention, so it doesn’t seem suspicious here.

“I, um, usually go to Keating’s classroom to work if I’m not in the room. He lets me use the space since I need quiet to work,” he supplies as an answer.

Neil can’t help but internally cheer for him coming up with such a great answer since having two locations provided an answer if he wasn’t spotted at one place. Neil probably should have done something similar, but he felt sure enough about people not using the ledge on the furthest staircase as a study space that he hadn’t felt the need to.

“Why not just tell us that?” Pitts asks once they have their answers.

“Because, Pittsie, as much as we love you guys, we don’t want you pestering us when we’re studying. Which seems like that was the right call now that I’ve heard about the shaving cream scheme,” Neil steps in, knowing an unpredictable question like that was enough for this whole facade to crumble if Todd was put on the spot.

“It was literally only one time,” Charlie groans, realizing that this was going to be ammunition against him for the rest of the year.

“That’s one time too many,” Todd adds on as he’s putting his toothbrush away, startling a laugh out of the rest of them since he usually wasn’t the one to be quick-witted in arguments.

With Todd being the last to finish their nightly wash routine, they start heading back to their rooms to turn in for the night, the conversation continuing in light chatter and banter. As they usually do on their more excitable nights, they run and slip around on the hardwood floors with their socks, knocking into one another just as much on purpose as accidentally.

Neil felt particularly energized since he had gotten away with lying to his friends, and Todd seemed to be too since they slid around on the floors with more gusto than usual. Laughter filled the air as they all tried to knock one another over, and Neil felt electrified by the knowing eye contact he made with Todd since they had both gotten away with it, giving them yet another inside joke.

As much as Neil had recently been struggling with his internal feelings towards Todd, as much as he had been hating himself and questioning all of his actions towards his friend, Neil felt all of that shit fall away as he laughed and collided into his friends, stealing knowing glances at Todd when he could. Clinging onto Todd’s hands as he struggled to stay upright on the slippery wood floors while doubled over in laughter, Neil can’t help but wish life could stay this simple forever.

“I cannot believe you got a car,” Todd says mostly to himself, a chuckle leaving his mouth as he speaks.

Neil had been sitting where they sent Todd’s desk set flying last year before the other joined him. The sun had set and it was dark now, but Neil was still in awe that his father could afford such a gift, much less that he loved him enough to get him a car. He had been staring at the image of the gift his father had sent him in the mail still in disbelief when Todd joined him, and they were both looking at the photo unrelentingly now.

“You and me both,” Neil chuckles back, still feeling deep in his gut that there had to be a catch. Sure, there was the message on the back of the picture stating “you can enjoy this gift when you graduate with a 4.0,” but it still felt too kind. Why was his dad being so nice to him, especially after what he did last year? Wouldn’t such a stunt only bring punishment to him? “Still can’t beat a flying desk set, I’ll reckon.”

Todd rolls his eyes in amusement as he slugs Neil in shoulder for the jab, not taking it to heart luckily. Joking was the only way for Neil to avoid the pit in his gut at the moment.

“Well, when are you going to get your license?” Todd asks after a few seconds, a small smile on his face as he looks at Neil, his face still slightly tilted forward to the view which was blotted out by the night sky.

“I actually have it already,” Neil chuckles, realizing just now that he could drive his car whenever summer eventually came around.

“What? When did you get it?” Todd asks, seeming equally surprised and peeved to be finding out new information about his friend as if Neil should have already told him something important as this. When he could have naturally brought it up, Neil doesn't know.

“Before we even met, right on my 16th birthday. My dad wanted me to have it because he saw it as a sign of responsibility I guess? Or maybe because it opens up more job opportunities, I can’t really remember,” Neil explains, not being able to pinpoint his father’s confusing motivations. It was for success one way or another like every other extracurricular he was forced to do.

“Wow, a license before you even had a car. I guess your dad does make you prepared for everything,” Todd muses conversationally, now looking out to the inky lake reflecting the occasional sparkling gems of moonlight instead of him.

His comment is harmless, but it causes Neil’s mind to rush to all of the summer classes he was forced to take in order to “stay ahead,” of all of the wasted summers of youth with his head stuck in the books. Sure, it was nice to have his license now, but Neil had never really thought of how ridiculous it was to have a license with no indication that he would get a car anytime soon. Maybe military camp wasn’t too different than all of the summers his father had robbed from his childhood by enrolling him in what was essentially advanced summer school, now that he thinks about it.

“I’m sure there’s a catch. I mean, there’s gotta be. Either I’m gonna have to get a job this summer to pay for the car payments or I can only drive it to certain locations like to and from school. Maybe he hasn’t even bought the car and he’s just sending me a picture of one to motivate me to buy my own once I get a job,” Neil rants aloud, not really filtering himself although he probably should.

He used to keep all matters with his father behind closed doors, zipped tight and kept hushed. It was disrespectful to talk back to him in public, and it was even ruder to complain about his father’s methods for raising him behind his back. Neil always kept this in mind even in his worst moments.

But something about the harsh conditions of military camp changed him. Now he didn’t give a shit if he was airing out his family’s dirty laundry simply by telling the truth. His father always had a way of finding a loophole to make his life harder, so was it so wrong for him to think these thoughts aloud now on his birthday? Was he telling Todd too much?

“Even if there is a catch,” Todd says after a notable gap of silence, “you could just take the car and run away.”

His idea makes Neil laugh from just thinking about the futility of it all. “Yeah, because running away with no plans will solve all of my problems,” he jokes sarcastically.

“Exactly,” Todd responds without missing a beat, joking as if this whole conversation was 100% serious. “You know what? You should bring me with you when you do. I need to solve a few problems of my own.”

Neil startles out a laugh in response to his friend’s joke. “Okay, yeah, if I ever run away, I’ll make sure to bring you along,” he kids, but he feels his ears heat up by the time he ends the statement. Right, there was that stupid swelling feeling again. Every time Neil finally felt some semblance of normalcy, every time the storm within him quelled for a few moments, Todd had to go and do something endearing to send it all back to raging once again.

“Great,” Todd placates, his smile small but genuine. Neil feels himself smile back despite the heat in his ears and neck. “We should probably head back to the room before we get in trouble or freeze to death.”

Although it was March and the snow was slowly but surely decreasing, there was still a prominent bite to the wind which whipped around them every now and then. Even in the dim light, Neil can see how red Todd’s nose is from the cold. Besides, it was almost curfew.

He nods along to the statement and they silently start to walk back to their room, dodging the younger boys running around and attempting to get ready for bed before the lights were turned off.

Once they’re in their room and Neil is sliding on his pajamas, he hears Todd pointedly clear his throat. Turning around once he has his shirt button up enough, – halfway was fine, right? – he finds Todd standing a few feet away from him with his hands behind his back as a sheepish look overtakes his face.

“What is it?” Neil asks in confusion, amused but also slightly concerned since Todd looks so embarrassed despite nothing happening.

“Well, it’s no car, but I got you something for your birthday,” he half jokes before shoving something into Neil’s hands, his face pinker than it was before. Neil had a feeling they would never be able to give each other gifts normally at this point.

Looking down to what his friend had put in his hands, Neil tries not to show his confusion when he finds a foldable chessboard clasped shut in his possession. Maybe it was Todd’s favorite game and he wanted them to play together?

“Thanks; now I can play chess on the go,” Neil jokes lightly, hoping that his appreciation for the gift is showing through despite cracking a joke.

“Open it,” is all Todd provides in response, a smile clear in his voice although Neil hadn’t taken his eyes off of the gift.

Obligingly, Neil unclasps the lock keeping the board folded in half and opens it to find little figures and pieces of construction paper within. Picking one of the figures up, he finds that the base of the person was a chess piece and the rest was constructed out of clay to make a tiny person.

“What…” Neil starts to say before he lets his question die on his tongue, being too interested in examining the little figurines. They were colorless and just vague outlines of people, but it was incredibly endearing that Todd had presumably made them himself.

“Um, so, I know that practicing your play with me probably isn’t the most helpful as far as logistics go,” Todd starts to say, causing Neil to look up and focus on him, “so I made little figures and set pieces so you can figure out how a scene would look, if that makes any sense.” He ends his explanation rather self-consciously, probably intimidated by Neil’s unrelenting gaze. He couldn’t help it though, he was in awe.

Messing around with the figures and the miniature set pieces some more, Neil feels a giant smile take up his face. “Anderson,” he says as he cautiously puts down the gift. “You genius!” Once he has the gift down, he bounds over to his friend to hug him and ruffle his hair at the same time, earning a surprised laugh from Todd as he tries to push him off to preserve his hair. It’s too late by the time he successfully separates from Neil, his hair is pointing every which way.

“The chess board is the stage, but it’s also foldable so it looks normal to your dad,” Todd admits sheepishly, a smile on his face indicating that he was proud of himself. He puts his hands up after admitting it, though, afraid Neil would pounce again.

“Todd, this is seriously the best gift ever. You topped Christmas somehow,” Neil admits, keeping his own space to show Todd he wouldn’t mess up his hair again. “Thank you.”

“I wish I could have had it done sooner, but those little figurines were hard to make with my clumsy hands,” Todd admits as he attempts to return his hair to normalcy.

Neil thinks he's going to die with how swollen his chest feels with what had to be either fondness or love, Todd’s sleepy appearance mixed with the most thoughtful gift Neil had ever received. Though he wouldn’t admit, Todd had even topped his car gift somehow.

After talking a bit more as they got ready for bed, Neil headed to bed pretty quickly in fear of saying something he would regret. His lack of breath had made him dizzy, and he felt seconds away from confessing something incredibly sappy to him. Luckily, Todd seems just as willing to turn in a bit faster than usual.

Staring up at the ceiling, Neil once again struggles to tamper down his heartbeat, cool down his hot ears, and regain control of his lungs. He missed when he was oblivious as to why Todd made him lose control of these functions because now this sweet moment was tinged with sadness as Neil couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong with him.

Sure, getting gifts for your friend is normal, expected even, but feeling head-over-heels in love with your friend only over a gift was idiotic. Even though Neil had managed to remain pretty normal, he still felt guilty that Todd was secretly a victim of his degeneracy. Disgusting, his father’s voice rang in his head before he could filter it out.

But it was his birthday, so Neil opted to push such heavy feelings away for now so he could just enjoy the moment. This was possibly the last year he would receive gifts for such an occasion, so Neil was just glad he was able to spend it with Todd. Next year this time, he would probably be alone in Harvard staying up all night to study for some midterms, so he counted himself lucky to have Todd’s light snores soothe him to sleep now.

“I like when you wear your glasses,” Todd says out of the blue, causing Neil to snap up from his paper to assess his friend’s face for any trace of sarcasm. Surely he couldn’t be telling the truth.

“Oh ha ha, very funny,” Neil replies back dryly, knowing that Todd had to be just poking fun at how nerdy he looked. He tried to avoid wearing his glasses when he could just for that very reason, but since the lighting in the cave wasn’t ideal, Neil had started bringing his glasses more and more. Of course now he would never wear them in front of Todd again, not that he cared what he thought or anything.

“No, I’m serious,” Todd doubles down, serving to perplex Neil even more.

“Oh yeah? Why then?” Neil counters, figuring his friend would have to explain himself if he truly wasn’t teasing him. He admonished his fluttering heart, trying to tamper it down since apparently one little comment could send him into overdrive.

“I-I don’t know,” Todd says after a beat, his face redder than before, which just indicates to Neil that he was lying. “But I do like them!” he rushes to reassure as he sees Neil go to roll his eyes jokingly at the whole conversation.

“Alright, fine, you actually like when I wear my glasses,” he attempts to acknowledge nonchalantly, hoping his friend couldn’t see the color gaining in his ears. “Anyway, where were we?” he asks in an attempt to move off of the subject.

“Um, you were about to show me your excerpt for the portfolio?” Todd offers, averting his eyes as he does so.

That’s right, for some reason Neil not only told his friend that he applied to the art college against his better judgment, but he also was now letting Todd look over the portfolio he submitted. He had already made sure Keating hadn’t so much as peeked at his application, but now that left him only with Todd for any possible feedback, and he wanted to make sure it was at least solid even though there was no undoing what he'd sent now.

It shouldn’t be any harder than the countless afternoons where he and Todd ran through his lines together, joking and reworking dialogue until it fit the Poets’ dynamic just perfectly. It shouldn’t, so Neil wasn’t sure as to why his throat felt like closing at the mere thought of sharing his portfolio with his friend.

“Oh, right,” Neil somehow chokes out of his mouth without sounding too affected. Straightening out the papers he had just taken out of his bag, he starts to hand a spare copy of the script Keating had printed for him over to Todd before pulling it back abruptly. “Remember our agreement?”

Before Todd had thrown him off with the glasses comment, Neil made Todd agree to take this reading more seriously than usual. He was feeling particularly touchy about the whole application thing, so he wouldn’t be able to handle the light banter they usually had when reading lines.

Todd looks like he suppresses an eyeroll as he nods along to Neil. “Of course, you said it only like a minute ago,” he teases lightly.

“Just making sure,” Neil mutters defensively before finally handing the copy to Todd.

Since the whole screaming lines debacle last semester, both Neil and Todd had stuck with their traditional roles seeing as it fit with the flow most times anyway. He’s partly convinced that was Todd’s plan all along when he screamed like a maniac that one day, but Neil had no idea how his mind worked so he still wasn’t entirely sure.

Despite their usual roles, there’s actually not much for them to read out past the first part of the excerpt given the situation Neil depicted within the scene. Two of the students had ended up running away from the school, which all of the adults and faculty ended up blaming on Mr. Yeats, a teacher meant to represent Mr. Keating of course – hopefully the poetry reference wasn’t lost on Todd.

Most of their reading occurred in the scene leading the final scene, the members of the Dead Poets Society meeting in their secret spot in the attic to argue one last time to figure out what happened. As they begin, Neil tries not to let his face heat up at the realization that Todd would now see that he kind of wrote out their repeated joke of running away together. Hopefully it would seem more like a fun nod at their previous conversations to Todd rather than Neil creepily living out some sort of fantasy.

“This is bad,” Todd reads out as Kenneth, Pitts’ character, fairly well since he reflects the anxiousness Neil anticipated when writing the line. Traditionally, Todd would be pacing around the room to follow the movement for the scene, but they stayed firmly planted next to one another as they performed as usual.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Neil cuts in rudely as James, Charlie’s character. He knew how short he could be in stressful situations like this, so he decided he would be more fed up here.

“They’re going to interrogate us soon to see if we know where they are. As if they told us anything,” Todd reads as Alan, Meeks’ character, only a bit stiff in his delivery.

“I still don’t know why they have their panties in a twist over this. Surely this has happened at this school before?” Neil asks obliviously as Doug, Knox’s character, since he figured he would be the most confused a situation like this.

“Don’t you get it?” Todd asks as Carl, Cameron’s character. “William and David are just pictures on milk cartons now. If they ever do find them, it’ll just be their bodies on the side of the road from hitchhiking gone wrong.” Todd had started off stiff in his reading, but he was able to conduct his voice to sound about as cutting as he figured Cam would sound here.

“Take it back!” Neil suddenly yells as James, though he would be physically held back by the other Poets when the scene played out since he’d be threatening to punch Carl. “Will and David are alive! Just because they haven’t found them doesn’t mean they died.”

“Yeah, that just means they got away,” Todd adds on as Kenneth; the line would be said to calm James down in the play as he lowered his fist.

“I don’t like it just as much as you, but someone needs to be a realist here,” Todd follows up his own line as Carl, mimicking Cameron’s self-righteous snark pretty well.

“Oh, and why is it so important for us to have a realist?” Neil questions as Doug, figuring Knox would be the first one to jump on Charlie's side of the argument.

“Because, genius, to their parents and the school, they’re as good as dead. They’ll need someone to pin the blame on, so we need to get our stories straight before they bring us in for questioning,” Todd continues as Carl, performing more seriously than Neil can remember for any of their other sessions. So he really did take Neil's condition seriously; it makes his chest get that swelling feeling, but Neil ignores it as he continues to perform the scene.

“Why are we to blame for all of this shit? Mr. Knicks is who should be under fire since he made going to this school as miserable as possible,” Neil retorts as James, Mr. Knicks of course representing Mr. Nolan.

“We’re not who they’re blaming, genius,” Todd retorts as Carl.

“Well, then who?” Neil follows up as Doug, trying to coat his voice in the same frustrated confusion he's heard his friend take on before in arguments.

“Mr. Yeats of course!” Todd exclaims exasperatedly, just as Neil imagined Cam would be.

“Bullshit,” Neil retorts automatically as James, blowing off the notion entirely. He was just now realizing how much he had his characters cuss in this scene, and he hoped it wouldn’t put off whoever looked through the applications.

“It’s the truth. Who else preached to us all year about freedom and writing your own story?” Todd continues with the point as Carl.

“He meant that figuratively,” Todd follows himself up as Alan. Even though the roles they had agreed to usually left most of the heavy lifting to Neil, he’s sure Todd is regretting their assigned roles now since Cameron’s character was the main one conducting the scene. He tries not to laugh when he can hear a faint note of fatigue in Todd’s voice.

“Yeah, of course we didn’t think he actually wanted us to run away,” Neil argues as James.

“Doesn’t matter,” Todd cuts in as Carl once again. Neil would have to make him his own little Oscar figurine for this performance. “They’re looking for someone to blame so the school doesn't get any flack, and Mr. Yeats is the scapegoat.”

“So what are we supposed to do?” Neil asks as Doug.

“Go along with whatever they say,” Todd provides as Carl, acting as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

“You’re a fucking nark, Carl. We’re not selling Mr. Yeats out,” Neil counters hotly as James, trying to reflect the same amount of rage Charlie would feel right now. Him and Cameron always butted heads the most.

“Look, I don’t want to sell him out any more than you do, but it’s either him or us. And I’m sorry, but I don’t want to have any of this on my permanent record just because Will and David got bored and ran away just to end up in some ditch,” Todd reads out as Carl, back to his stiff demeanor since he’s probably bristled at the dialogue.

Maybe Neil had made Cameron's character to be cruel in this scene, but he really needed one of them to take a more antagonist role in order to break up the group, and Carl had seemed to be the best candidate since he was always in opposition to someone. Maybe the imagery of him and Todd dead in a ditch was going too far, but it was too late now to change anything.

Now in the script, Charlie’s character actually does get away with punching Cameron’s character. A scuffle unfolds, but the scene ends desolately with Carl saying the Poets could either be smart like him and saves themselves or dumb like James and get expelled.

In the aftermath of the scene, James is expelled from the school like Carl predicted, the Poets ultimately sell out Mr. Yeats since the group is broken up, and there are three empty seats in their English class for the final scene. Agonizingly, Mr. Yeats has to come in during class to get the last of his things.

Right before he leaves, Neil has Doug interrupt the class to yell out “O Captain! My Captain!” as he stands on his desk in protest to Yeats being unrightfully fired. Neil knows that the reference made at this part will be lost due to the limited nature of his excerpt, but he hopes the scene is strong enough to speak for itself.

Following Doug, Alan and Kenneth join his protests by standing on their desks despite the substitute teacher yelling at them to get down. Surprisingly, students who had hardly showed that they cared about Yeats for the last year begin to stand on their desks, and this phenomenon continues until most of the class is on their desks staring at Yeats save for a few students, Carl being one of kids who stays sat obediently.

The scene ends with Mr. Yeats simply thanking the boys before walking out of the school, which ends the entire play ultimately. Neil knew it was a rather ambiguous ending, but he didn’t want to confirm if his and Todd’s characters died or not, didn’t want to disclose where Charlie’s character would be relocated, didn’t want to clarify where Mr. Yeats ended up. Hopefully the scene is impactful enough to balance out how potentially dissatisfying it could be for some people.

Since there’s hardly any dialogue in the last scene, though, Neil and Todd sit in silence as they read it over in their heads. Neil simply skims it since he knows everything within the play, and he uses the extra time it affords him to anxiously look over at Todd and await his reaction.

Finally, Todd looks up from the paper to the cave wall in front of him, seemingly in thought. After a few more beats, he eventually turns to Neil.

“I don’t get it,” Todd finally says after his grand silence, causing Neil’s eyebrows to crease in confusion. Sure, he was prepared for maybe some comments on how limited the argument was or the way the last scene was written, but Neil had felt pretty sure in the whole excerpt itself.

“What do you mean that you ‘don’t get it?’” Neil asks, trying but failing to hide the incredulity coating his voice.

“I mean- I don’t know. Like, what’s the significance of them standing on their desks? Is it just theatrical?” Todd asks, stumbling over his words but arriving at the point eventually.

“I mean, sure, it’ll look good on the stage too,” Neil appeases, trying to wrap his head around the critique. “But it physically represents them taking a stand, you know?”

“I know that, but is there a reason that they need to do it on their desks? It just seems a bit overly dramatic,” Todd counters. Although he had a valid point, Neil shook his head in response as he tried to think of an eloquent response.

“I think it’s just the right amount of dramatic. I mean, their teacher earlier taught them about changing their current perspective by having them jump up on his desk, so standing on their desks while they protest also represents them changing their perspective in general. Before they were just following the status quo, but now they see what’s important and aren’t afraid to stand for it,” Neil finds himself rambling, desperately trying to get Todd to see his perspective. He figures he sounds similar to when Todd overly explained the poem the other day, which Neil still privately believed he wrote.

After he’s done with his tangent, Neil manages to look sheepishly at Todd, feeling embarrassed at how defensive he felt about the ending of his play. Right as he starts to think that maybe Todd was right, maybe the ending was stupid and dramatic, his friend finally nods his head after some contemplation.

“You’re right, it’s a really good ending,” Todd smiles after he says it, causing Neil’s face to warm up for what felt like the hundredth time today. “Just so you know, I always thought that. I just wanted to make sure you could defend it in case any dumbass tried to say otherwise.”

Todd laughed as Neil socked him in the shoulder, feeling relieved but also embarrassed at the reveal. “You know, you give me so much more shit than I give you for your project,” Neil admonishes playfully, almost regretting all of the times he let his friend off the hook rather than digging in deep to the personal poetry he showed him.

“Consider it payback for when you basically made me a constant contributor to the Society meetings,” Todd teases right back, causing Neil to roll his eyes. He wasn’t even the one who did that; the Poets just enjoyed Todd’s selection of poetry so much that he basically did it to himself, though Neil didn’t feel like pointing that out at the moment.

After a few beats of silence, Neil finally speaks his fears, his eyes trained on the ground rather than on his friend. “You really think it was good enough to submit?” he asks self-consciously, knowing he probably looked like an idiot cowering towards the floor.

“Neil, they would be idiots if they didn’t accept you into the school within a heartbeat,” Todd affirms immediately, his voice small and sounding almost peeved at either Neil being so unsure of himself or the thought of the school not accepting his application; Neil couldn’t place which one it was.

“Really?” Neil can’t help himself from asking, his eyes seeking out his friend’s now almost as if to make sure there was no trace of doubt within them.

“Really,” Todd affirms, not shying away from the eye contact no matter how intense it was.

Looking into Todd’s eyes, Neil realizes once again just how close they had grown to sitting next to one another; he swore they started off with almost an arm’s length between them, but now they were practically pressed together. Whatever, they could blame it on the need for warmth, even though the weather was starting to heat up slowly but surely. Soon Neil wouldn’t have anything to blame their proximity on other than fondness.

Neil finds it hard to breathe as the sun catches Todd’s hair just right, the swelling feeling overtaking his lungs as if it was clockwork. Although he was scared of what Keating described that feeling to be, Neil couldn’t help himself from taking in every feature on his friend’s face while they were this close: his dusted freckles, the slight falter of his teeth, the flecks in his eyes.

He knows he should back away, that he should give his friend some space since Todd never asked for whatever perversion Neil had going on in his mind, but he can’t seem to pull away. Todd is so warm, his face is so interesting to look at, and Neil figures it would take multiple people to pull him out of his orbit right now.

Before he knows it, he can feel Todd’s breath on his face because they are sitting so close together, and then he can’t because his eyes are closed and their lips are touching, touching lightly, and then not at all.

Suddenly, the storm which had been raging within him ever since Keating's Valentine's Day class stills, his mind practically blank after the brief brush of their lips. Todd actually liked him back? It felt impossible, yet the evidence of it was still lingering on his lips.

Neil can’t help but pull Todd in, grappling for his jacket and tugging him back into another embrace as if it were instinctual, as if he was drowning and he needed air. Todd’s hands take a similar purchase on his jacket as he mirrors his motions, pulling Neil in just as much. He feels his friend, his best friend, Todd, melt into it, their lips moving more fluidly now as Neil feels Todd’s cold nose against his cheek, Neil's glasses skewing and fogging up.

It’s quiet and it’s slow and it’s perfect, somehow just a continuation of their closeness but just more, enough so to not satiate Neil’s seizing chest but rather cause it to burst, his heart racing as he tries to kiss his friend without dying. It felt like an undeniable problem and a perfect solution all in one.

When Neil lets go of his jacket to bring his hands up to cup his face, however, Todd startles back, his eyes panicked and wide and wild. Not understanding the jolt, Neil feels his face take on a similar expression.

“Neil I-” Todd starts to say before cutting himself off with a mangled sob making its way out of his throat. “I’m sorry.”

Before Neil can even ask what Todd’s sorry for, – he had kissed him back, after all – before he can wipe the tears which sprung from his friend’s eyes, before he can soothe the panic out of his features, Todd shoves all of his papers into his bag and runs out of the cave in one swift motion without another word.

Neil was petrified now; there was no other word for it. He knows he should run out of the cave and beg for Todd to come back, to insist that everything is fine and that this is all he ever wanted, whether he was aware of it or not, but he wasn’t sure if that’s exactly what he was feeling at the moment. He felt terrified of what was to come next, knowing that each and every move would just catapult him into his inevitable future one way or another.

So rather than doing anything that his mind was screaming for him to do, Neil just sits there, terrified of losing his friends, his family, Mr. Keating, his future.

Maybe this was what had to happen; maybe Todd was right to startle away and scrub this mistake from their consciousness. Neil still didn’t quite believe he was a queer, but his flushed face and hammering heart in response to a kiss from Todd made it hard to deny.

So maybe he was right to not fight for them, right to let Todd seal off this blunder in one swift motion. He’s had his fun, he indulged in his degeneracy just once, but now it was time to grow up, time to step up to the life his father had prepared for him. God knows that’s what would be best for everyone involved.

Neil’s not sure how long he’s sitting there in agonized silence, only the far-off tweeting of birds and the slow and steady drip of the snow melting and making its way into the cave from the gap overhead filling the still air occasionally, when he finally notices a paper which was accidentally left in Todd’s wake.

Before everything went to shit, the plan was for Todd to read the poetry he submitted as a part of his portfolio to make Neil feel less self conscious about sharing his excerpt. When leaving in the flash of light like he did, Todd must have forgotten about the change in routine and accidentally left this paper behind.

Neil’s plan was to not read it, simply stash it away in his bag and return it safely to Todd; maybe then would be a good time to talk about what the fuck just happened. Why had Todd said “sorry” as if there was anything he was at fault for? Sure, he may have kissed Neil lightly, but he kissed Todd back with even more fervor; if anyone should be sorry in that regard, it should be Neil.

Perhaps it was an accidental brush of the lips which Neil interpreted as more, so the “sorry” was for how he didn’t reciprocate the feelings. Neil felt mortified just of the idea of that possibility, his face feeling hot as he sat there silently.

But there had been such a panic and urgency in Todd’s demeanor, as if someone was screaming at him to go away. Maybe Neil should have felt the same way, maybe he should have ran away too given what happened to homos when they were found out. Maybe Todd just felt the condemnation of god after they parted lips; maybe Neil should feel ashamed as well.

And he did, was the thing. He had been hating himself more or less since he found out how fond he felt towards Todd; a voice since then has always been in his head screaming how disgusting he was, how perverted he was, how godless he was any time he found himself feeling his chest swell the way it did when Todd did any and everything endearing. The storm which had stilled so blissfully during the kiss now seemed to return tenfold, agonizing Neil even more as he sat there silently.

Going to pick up the paper, it truly wasn’t Neil’s intention to read his friend’s poetry since it was purely private, but he couldn’t stop his eye from catching on one particular line: I’m tired of these soaking clothes.

That was from the first ever poem Todd shared with him, the four measly lines of the piece still packing a punch which resounded within Neil despite it being months since he read them.

However, now the line was surrounded by more lines, way more than four. Before Neil can stop himself, his eyes race over the paper in search of completing the poem which had been more or less wrecking him for most of the school year.

The four lines Todd had provided him way back last semester were only the beginning, and it seemed that he continued it on from there. Neil’s immediately struck by how they're followed by an assertion simply stating “I’m in the way of you.” Todd’s in the way of who? Who could he preventing, and from what exactly?

The next few lines follow the same structure as the first four, but their implications only cause Neil’s brow to furrow further. “Tell me that I’m good for you / You run around with holes in your shoes / Let me wallow in your afterglow / You’re absolute in all you know,” Neil mutters the lines aloud to himself, as if doing so would reveal some hidden code.

With a sinking suspicion, Neil starts to wonder if this poem was about him, especially when the last few lines are once again followed by the assertion of Todd being in the way of someone. Was that why he apologized? Because Todd thought he was in his way of something?

His suspicion seems to be immediately confirmed as the poem starts to deteriorate past that point, many crossed through lines and scratched out apologies starting to take over and derail the cohesive poem. In the midst of the apologies, – to who, Neil still didn’t know – he can make out some last lines of clarity.

“What was I supposed to do? / Run away from you? / I’m so sorry / How am I supposed to pretend that I don’t know you? / I’m so sorry / Of course I think you’re pretty / With your pretty smile and your brown hair and brown eyes / I’m so sorry.” Was this a confession of some sort? Was this poem truly about Neil? Maybe he was being presumptuous since brown hair and brown eyes were a fairly common trait; maybe it was about some girl Neil had never met before, some girl Todd knew from his old school.

But as he looked over the rest of the poem which devolved into inane and repeated scribbles of “I’m so sorry” over and over again, Neil had a sinking feeling that this poem was about him no matter how much he wished it wasn’t. This would explain why Todd had instantly said sorry after their kiss, though Neil was still unclear on what exactly he was apologizing for.

Chewing on his thumbnail, Neil questions how he could ever convince Todd that there was nothing to be sorry for when he himself wasn’t sure if that was entirely true?

Chapter Text

The snow which coated the Vermont landscape had melted slowly but surely, the trees which had been presumably dead before now have newborn sprouts of green adorning them, wildflowers were starting to sparsely bloom on wide fields of Welton, and it’s been two weeks since Neil and Todd had properly spoken.

The Poets knew something was off, but like Neil, they all seemed too nervous about ruining their current dynamic to address the situation. So like clockwork, Todd reverted back into his shell while Neil was too busy biting his tongue to oppose, too scared of his life crashing down around him to pry his friend out of his reclusion.

More times than Neil could count, he opened his mouth to offer the olive branch only to shut it closed again, not quite sure what he could say to make everything fine. He wanted so desperately to express to his friend that what happened in the cave was okay, that Neil was happy with what had happened, but how could he reassure Todd that being a homosexual was okay when he himself wasn’t entirely convinced of it?

Neil had spent their recent hiatus thinking deeply about their situation, about Todd’s perception of it, and his own feelings. He thought he could logic it out; he just had to address all of the reasons why he shouldn’t like Todd in his head systematically to quell his feelings and all would be solved.

First, he considered the issue of religion: the bible said it was impure to lay with another man, so that was that. When Neil tried to root that proclamation as fact in his mind, though, he couldn’t help but wonder how something as pure as kissing Todd was somehow a sin. All of the other sins listed in the scripture – murder, stealing, lying – were acts done out of hatred, so Neil couldn’t figure why his act of love was comparable and considered a sin when it seemed inherently opposite to the others. Besides, he never really believed in god anyway.

Since that failed, he turned to the issue of social opposition: Neil’s parents hated homosexuals, and that seemed to be the general consensus for everyone practically everywhere as far as he could tell. Even the Poets made snarky jokes and held the insult of “homo” over one another’s heads every now and then. Even though they never really said it with any malice, it seemed to be an insult regarded as some of the worst slander you could throw at someone. Neil’s not sure if he’s ever heard of anyone ever being gay who wasn’t already killed for being so, much less them living to like or enjoy it.

When even those hard facts didn’t seem to deter his stuttering heart when he was alone in a room with Todd, he finally turned to the issue of himself: could he ever accept being homosexual and still be happy? Would he have any shot at a future if he accepted that potential aspect of himself? Was there any way for him to be happy and a queer at the same time, or were they opposite terms? If being gay was so bad, how could Neil live with himself for dragging Todd down to join him in this unique misery?

With all of these aspects thoroughly considered, Neil should have just shut whatever dark and twisted part of his heart he opened that day in the cave for good, but he couldn’t. No matter how bad of an option it seemed, Neil still couldn’t help but have feelings for Todd. Unfortunately, Keating was right in his proclamation that love is as impossible as it is illogical.

Even so, Neil just wished there was a bit more possibility for him and Todd, that even if there wasn’t any logic behind his feeling towards his friend, that at least there wouldn’t be the whole world against them. But if his life had taught him anything, it would be that wishing is a dumb and utterly useless act, so there goes that too.

While Keating’s classes before felt confusing only for it to make sense to Neil for a brief glimpse, they now felt like a downright mockery. He would preach on and on about love, about devotion, about infatuation, about happily ever afters, and Neil would only feel his sorrow increase tenfold at the lively glimmer in his eyes. He would never be able to experience what his teacher was expressing; he was condemned to a life of barely-there kisses and eternal damnation.

Although Neil had initially tried to take Todd’s silence in stride by thinking of it as an opportunity to collect his thoughts and reflect before he said or did anything rash, he was now starting to loathe the absence of their light banter in the mornings and nights, starting to hate the afternoons he spends studying with the Poets rather than sneaking off to the cave. He missed Todd, that was definitely a part of it, but it was giving him too much time to think about himself.

Kissing Todd back had felt like the easiest decision he’d ever made when he did it. Before, Neil hated himself for being what disgusted his father, hated being what the Poets joked about every now and then about the less masculine students at Welton, hated suddenly being the butt of every joke he had practically ever heard since he was on the top of the social ladder only a few days before.

One stupid class with Keating had sent his entire life into a scattering descent of cards, and it was all he could think about every time fondness for Todd swelled within his chest and made it hard to breathe. He could hardly think with how much he hated himself, for lack of a better phrase.

But then the kiss with Todd silenced everything, no matter how brief it was, so pulling his friend back in by that point felt like a defense mechanism. For all his short-circuited brain knew at the moment, kissing Todd was the solution to all of his problems.

But the break of the kiss, the sudden disappearance of Todd, caused all of what was raging inside of him to only increase. Before he had at least some defense against the chaos since there was deniability; there was the chance that Neil felt only an intense companionship for his best friend, but the kiss sealed his fate of being the unspeakable: a degenerate.

Now he had a tainted lens to look back with on every memory he had with girls: he never liked the cute castmates because they were girls, he hated Charlie bringing girls to the Poet meetings because he didn’t see a point in trying to get into their skirts, he was never entranced with the pornographic photo Charlie would sneak into meetings because it was a form he would never want to get familiarized with.

As many problems as it seemed to solve when he kissed Todd, Neil wishes that he had pushed his friend away since that now seems to be the only way he could have salvaged his sanity; if he had some plausible deniability, maybe everything would be okay.

But then again, maybe pushing Todd away would have left him craving something just out of reach for the rest of his life. At least he had the small reassurance that he had made his feelings plain rather than being left to wonder if things would have worked out. Now he knew for sure that they never would.

But Neil couldn’t help the wriggling thought in the back of his head which insisted that Todd had kissed him first, insisted that he hadn’t pushed him away when he continued the kiss every time he tried to close off the failed chapter of his life which was his short-lived romance with Todd. Maybe there was a different reason he ran away; maybe there was a chance after all.

Neil had to find out if Todd actually reciprocated his feelings; he would go crazy otherwise. Which is why he’s in Welton’s library now during free time, tracing his hands lightly over the back of the poetry book spines. As a last ditch effort for his sanity, Neil was going to find out if Laurence Rich was a pseudonym Todd donned to showcase his own poetry with some plausible deniability or if he was an actual person.

He thought he could go through the section on his own and quickly find the telltale L. Rich sure to adorn a poetry book or two in order to resolutely squash the fluttering in his heart that happens whenever he so much as looks as Todd now, but it was taking longer than he anticipated. He had been in the R section in the poetry aisle of the library for over ten minutes now, toggling back and forth between Raleigh and Rilke as if one more glance over would cause a Rich to suddenly appear.

Maybe the poet also wrote novels or some essays; maybe Neil was more likely to find him in another section of the library. But he didn’t have time for that, so he decided to finally cave in and ask the librarian for assistance, something he probably should have done over seven minutes ago.

“Excuse me,” Neil tries to get the librarian’s attention as quietly as he can once he gets to the desk, still receiving a frown from him as if he was somehow too loud. “Where can I find Laurence Rich’s work?”

“Everything we have is already out on the shelves,” the librarian supplies monotone, turning back to his work before Neil whispers again to get his attention.

“But I can’t find him,” Neil beckons, not giving up quite yet. “Should I go to the public library in town?”

The librarian gives the impression that he’s holding back an eye roll as he turns back to Neil. “I highly doubt their collection is any better than ours. And to be frank with you, I’ve never heard of the guy in my life.”

Neil felt his heart skip a beat before he could calm it back down to its usual rate, nodding his head and letting out a whispered “thank you” before departing to make his way back to his room.

So Laurence Rich wasn’t a real poet? There wasn’t a way to know for sure; he could be a new modern poet Todd had found in some literary magazine after all, but the librarian seemed to really know his stuff.

So that means the poem Todd read out to them a few weeks ago was actually his like Neil had suspected all this time. Now that it was basically confirmed, though, more and more questions burst into his mind rather than solutions.

I’m chasing the dragon too far. So Neil was the dragon, the doomed love Todd was chasing? He knew Todd was insistent on the poem being about more than just a hopeless love, rather a doomed life, but his face was also incredibly red after the Poets had concluded the whole love theme. Maybe they were just a bit too accurate for Todd’s liking, maybe he had to dismiss most of the love notion so none of them would suspect anything.

Even with the confirmation that there was no Laurence Rich, that it was actually Todd’s poem, Neil can’t tell if he feels a glimmer of hope that his feelings might be reciprocated or if it’s a spark of dread because Todd was cursed just like him.

Weirdly enough, one of the few things within Neil’s life which was still intact despite his sudden lack of communication with Todd was the Dead Poets Society meetings. The Poets continued to bring their own poetry, all of which are arguably stronger pieces than what they used to bring, and they always ended the session with whatever special poem Todd had selected.

The only difference really is that he no longer sits next to Todd, the other boy opting to sit close to the entrance of the cave rather than near the back with him. It was fine, it’s not like Neil has repeatedly leaned onto whatever Poet happened to take up the spot next to him just to suddenly jerk away when he realizes that it’s not Todd. He would be totally fucked if that were the case.

Supposing it was true, though, it’s not like it’d be easy for him to maintain his space given the lack of sleep he was getting because, yes, his arrangement with Todd to recite poetry to him in the mornings was not an exception to their silence.

Neil doesn’t like to remember the first morning he woke up after the kiss, already out of his bed and about to nudge Todd’s shoulder before reality came crashing down around him, before he suddenly remembered that there was probably nothing Todd would like to do less than wake up early just to help his degenerate friend fall back asleep.

So the mornings returned to what they had been at the beginning of the fall semester, what they had been when Neil went away for Christmas break, which was him merely staring at the ceiling and cursing himself for somehow being so affected by the impositions his dad put on him ages ago.

But it wasn’t just that, was it? Neil was pissed at himself for getting so soft, for becoming so reliant on someone else. It’s not like Todd could follow him to college to help him go back to sleep. Maybe it was for the best that this silence had brought that; this way Neil could learn the harsh reality of what the rest of his life would look like: sleepless and alone.

He had taken back up writing in the morning because although he had finished the final scene of the play for his application, he still hadn’t actually finished the play itself. Since he didn’t have the time in the cave anymore to work on it, returning to his schedule from last semester only seemed natural.

If Todd awakens to the dim light of Neil’s lamp when he works, he must fall back asleep without a single word mentioning it. And if Neil ends up writing more about William than any other character just to scratch everything back out eventually, no one’s awake to witness it anyway. Such was their new lives, together but unbearably separate in many ways.

Neil tries his best to act as if nothing’s amiss since he wouldn’t have a clue as to how to explain the sudden divide between him and Todd, but he can only do so much as Todd remains as wordless as he was when he first came to Welton their junior year.

So now the bantering they do at the beginning of their meetings is a bit awkward and stale since everyone knows at least something is a little off, but they refuse to acknowledge the sudden distance between Neil and Todd as long as the two of them pretend nothing is wrong. So now the Poets were accomplices to what Neil saw as the end of his friendship with Todd, someone he thought he would know well for the rest of his life.

Because of the continued society meetings during their silence, however, Neil had started disillusioning himself that maybe Todd was trying to communicate with him through the poetry he brought. He knew it was an idiotic and narcissistic theory, but he couldn’t suppress his suspicions no matter how much he tried to rationalize the situation. Once again, rational thought seemed to go out the window when applied to his feelings about Todd.

The poem Todd brings tonight doesn’t make it any easier for Neil to pretend that the pieces he brings truly aren’t messages to him either. When Meeks first reads out the title since it happened to be his turn for this meeting, Neil feels himself almost balk at the name of the poet but luckily keeps his face trained to not make any expressions.

“This poem is called ‘Stepping Back’ by Adrienne Rich,” Meeks says simply, oblivious to how those few words just rattled Neil to his core. “Rich” as in Laurence Rich? Was this poet possibly part of who Todd based his pseudonym on? It felt too coincidental to not be purposeful. Trying to make eye contact with his friend across the cave, Neil fails since Todd seems to be pointedly avoiding it.

After that first shock, though, nothing of note really catches his attention since the poem begins with saying goodbye to someone. “Good-by to you whom I shall see tomorrow, / Next year and when I'm fifty; still good-by,” Meeks begins, trying his best to impassion his voice while still not making a mockery of the poem. Given the premise, it was still too far away from graduation for Neil to consider this some kind of indirect message to him.

Letting his mind wander as the rest of the poem is read, Neil starts to stress since he wasn’t sure what he was going to do when reading Todd’s poetry would inevitably cycle back to his turn. Maybe he’d cry in front of the rest of the Poets, but that was something to worry about later.

What really jolts Neil from his absent attention of the poem to hanging off of every word leaving Meeks’ mouth is about halfway through when identity is mentioned. “You asked me once, and I could give no answer, / How far dare we throw off the daily ruse, / Official treacheries of face and name, / Have out our true identity? I could hazard / An answer now, if you are asking still,” Meeks reads, unaware once again of what panic this was causing his friend.

Our true identity? What else could Todd be trying to say with such a poem than be calling out the aspects which he and Neil wanted to blot out the most: their homosexuality. Despite Neil’s panic at this apparent callout, he still wants to hear the answer that the poem, and subsequently Todd, poses to the question just asked.

“We are a small and lonely human race / Showing no sign of mastering solitude / Out on this stony planet that we farm. / The most that we can do for one another / Is let our blunders and our blind mischances / Argue a certain brusque abrupt compassion. / We might as well be truthful,” Meeks reads out.

Neil feels as if he has to hold back tears with the beautiful yet desolate answer; the best response to people who hide their identities is compassion and truth. Maybe he and Todd really should have it out about how they feel rather than let this silence stretch on. No matter the result, surely it would be better for everything to be out in the air between them rather than confined to acid filling their heads.

However, the hope which previously filled him quickly drains upon hearing the way the poem ends, each word of the lengthy closure a stone which weighs him down.

“But all we can confess of what we are / Has in it the defeat of isolation– / If not our own, then someone's, anyway,” Meeks begins the ending, hitting Neil like a ton of bricks. “So I come back to saying this good-by, / A sort of ceremony of my own, / This stepping backward for another glance. / Perhaps you'll say we need no ceremony, / Because we know each other, crack and flaw, / Like two irregular stones that fit together. / Yet still good-by, because we live by inches / And only sometimes see the full dimension. / Your stature's one I want to memorize.”

The Poets clap and promptly discuss the meaning of the piece Todd brought like they always do, but Neil can’t force himself to focus with how hollow he feels. Todd thought they were cursed to isolation no matter what? He wanted to say goodbye forever?

But Neil wasn’t happy with that answer. Even if isolation was inevitable, why did they have to be the ones which suffered it? Why couldn’t it be their friends and families who would cast them out for their degeneracy to be the ones who suffered the isolation? Why should they give up so easily?

So Neil tries to fulfill the poem Todd used to speak to him tonight, deciding they should have it out about their identities and how they really feel as he got ready for bed later that night. At least they could have some issue to address once it was out in the air between them rather than sit in silence, both of them probably brewing over the same thoughts and issues.

“Todd?” Neil asks gently to the night air once they’re both in their beds and trying to go to sleep. He didn’t wait too long after they turned the lights out to speak, so he knew Todd had to be awake.

“Todd?” he asks again in lieu of the silence he was met with, a bit louder than the last time since he knew his friend couldn’t have fallen asleep in the few minutes they’d been in their beds.

But Todd never answers, his light breathing shaky but consistent. So he was choosing to stay silent, choosing to let this silence extend between them.

Neil had stupidly thought that the silence between them for the last two weeks was a result of both of them being at a loss for what to say. Sure, Todd was quiet everywhere now, but he had thought it was because his mind was racing. Neil thought that once they gathered their bearings and bridged the gap, everything would be fine.

But now he had to face the reality that Todd had actively chosen to not talk to him for all of this time. This hiatus was not a fumbling coincidence, but rather an active choice by his friend.

And maybe Todd was right to distance them so harshly; there was no future for people like them that didn’t result in some sort of isolation, whether that be from their true desires, friends, or family. Maybe it was better to just snip this blooming romance in the bud, to stomp out whatever sparks there are before they start a forest fire which decimates the lives they’ve built. Maybe it was best for them just to become distant memories to each other.

So Neil just lays in the silence Todd created, staring at the ceiling while thinking about how his love isn’t enough for him and how it’s probably for the better anyway.

Although the warmer weather and reviving trees feel like a mockery to Neil's desolate reality, he's still glad that he doesn’t have to trudge through snow anymore for Keating’s class. As cool as the Valentine’s Day class had been with the flower growing somehow in such harsh conditions, Neil couldn’t help but feel the memory sour for him, his blind devotion to Todd then only seeming idiotic now.

But that's besides the point. Now they were in the field they often went to when lessons were outside rather than in the forest, and Keating just told them to get into groups of two. Neil assumes that they’ll just get into the groups they went into last semester, – Neil with Charlie, Knox with Todd, Meeks with Pitts, Cameron with some bookish kid – so when he turns around to find Charlie already paired up with Knox, his brow furrows.

Basically everyone else groups up in the same pairs as before at the speed of light, leaving Neil to whip his head around as he tries to figure out who to pair with now that Charlie was out of the question. He assumes that he’ll probably have to be in an embarrassing group with Keating because it seems like the class is an uneven number today, but right before he trudges over to his teacher, he sees Todd standing in the field without a partner as well.

Snapping his eyes over to the Poets now, Charlie and Knox are snickering to each other and the other three have similar mischievous expressions as they pretend to be nonchalant, whistling with their hands in their pockets and looking anywhere but at them.

Great, the Poets must have devised grouping him and Todd together since they sensed there was a rift between them recently; he supposes it was kind of hard not to notice after all. Even though Neil knew they were doing this to be nice in their own misdirected way, he just feels anger for the Poets as his gut drops on his way over to his former best friend – what were they now anyway?

Todd seems to feel about the same as he realizes that he’s stuck in a group with Neil. And yeah, that totally doesn’t hurt his feelings, not at all. Hopefully whatever they need to do as a duo won’t be too bad; Neil reckons he can handle an egg toss with Todd for a few minutes without breaking down into tears.

“Now that you’re all grouped up,” Mr. Keating interjects loudly, shutting up the amiable chatter amongst most of the students and gaining all of the boys’ attention, “we can begin our trust exercise.”

Shit. Neil feels his gut drop once again at the words “trust exercise.” Usually he would trust Todd with literally anything, but given his recent discovery that he didn’t want to talk to him anymore, Neil’s not sure how much he trusts him at this point. Neil never was good at reading his mind in the first place, just his expression, so now that they were radio silent and Todd’s face tends to be blank more often than not, he’s completely out of his depth.

He can read Todd's expression now, though, which is one of dread since his face pales at the news too. Did he think that Neil hated him? Did he think he could be any less devout to him just because of a few weeks of not talking? Neil was the one who kissed Todd back, the blundering idiot who was left choking on his dust, so why would Todd think he was any less trustworthy than before?

“The exercise is simple, boys,” Keating informs airily as he makes his way to the center of the hoard of students. “Just fall backwards, and your partner will catch you. And to be clear, if they want to pull some hijincks and let you fall, I will send them to Mr. Nolan promptly to remind them of the four pillars.”

Okay, at least Keating was basically requiring them to catch one another since Neil doubts anyone would want to take their chances with Mr. Nolan. That should ease his panic, but he still feels like a trapped animal from how quickly his eyes jump from Keating to Todd.

“Okay, now pick who will be falling and who will be catching first. Once that’s figured out, do a couple rounds of falling backwards and trust that your partner will catch you, alright?” Mr. Keating instructs with the devilish gleam in his eye he gets every now and then when he has something up his sleeve.

Begrudgingly, Neil turns over to Todd, figuring they had to talk now to decide who was going to do what first.

“I’ll catch,” Todd says definitively before Neil is even fully turned to him, and isn’t that just great. Of course they had to metaphorically fulfill what actually happened, Neil falling quickly and foolishly for Todd. Given what happened in the cave, though, Neil couldn’t shake the feeling that Todd would leave him to fall on his ass, consequences of Mr. Nolan or no.

Not wanting to make this excruciating moment any more difficult than it already was, Neil merely nods and turns around and tries to get ready to fall. Looking at his friends, Meeks is easily falling backwards on his heels into Pitts’ outstretched arms, giggling constantly between the two as they do so. They made it look so easy.

At least Knox and Charlie were faring just about as well as him, Knox stumbling and petulantly whining that Charlie wouldn’t catch him while the other kept his shit-eating smirk on his face as he promised to not drop him.

“I’m ready when you are,” Todd says in a voice that Neil can barely hear over the chatter of the class. Shit, Neil was hoping he could bide his time for a little bit longer before having to fall.

Looking over his shoulder to make sure Todd is in the proper position to catch him, Neil lets out a simple “okay” before turning back forward. Alright, all he needed to do was be like Meeks and fall back on his heels. Todd would catch him; of course he would since he wouldn’t want to risk his grade in this class.

So without much more thought, Neil starts to fall backwards the same way he saw his classmates do it. After the first second of falling, though, Neil feels his gut drop in a terrifying way as panic clutches his heart and takes over his motor functions, causing him to bend his knees and catch himself right before he feels Todd’s hands on his shoulders.

“I was about to catch you,” Todd says once Neil uprights himself, a hint of frustration in his voice.

“I know, it’s just-” Neil starts to say before cutting himself off, not really sure how to voice the irrational panic which overtook him. “You’ll see how hard it is when it’s your turn.”

With that, he turns around and tries to get ready to fall back again. Looking to his friends now, even Knox and Charlie have gotten the hang of falling and catching. Even though Charlie lets Knox get dangerously close to the floor before saving him at the last second, it seems to be a funny joke between the two now, their laughter light in the air.

“Ready,” is all Todd says now, and Neil nods without turning around to confirm that he heard him. Okay, even Knox and Charlie can do this, surely it’s not that hard.

So Neil starts to fall backwards on his heels once again, reassuring his brain over and over again that Todd was just about to save him when he bailed last time, that he was still his friend despite their silence and wouldn’t let him go crashing to the ground on purpose.

But as the panic of falling overtakes his heart once again, Neil can’t help but think of how Todd had left him falling into the abyss and grasping for something, anything to save himself that day in the cave. Todd had kissed him and then abandoned him with a muddled mind and constricting heart, offering no words of comfort and only actions Neil couldn’t help but pair with scorn.

Halfway through his fall, Neil is thrown back into how he felt in the cave left in Todd’s wake: petrified. So once again, his feet pedal back to save him even though Todd’s hands are on his back moments later, outstretched and ready to catch him.

“Shit,” Neil whispers frustratedly under his breath. Why couldn’t he just be like the rest of his friends, why couldn’t he trust Todd after all of this time?

“What the fuck?” Todd quietly whispers in frustration to him, and Neil couldn’t help but agree because, really, what the fuck? It was such a small, miniscule fall after all. It probably wouldn’t even hurt if Todd didn’t catch him since they were in the grass, but it was like the panic that seized him was some innate survival instinct Neil couldn’t rewire.

Right as Neil starts goldfishing a response, some way to voice the terror which grips his heart when he’s halfway down to the ground, he makes eye contact with Keating who looks concerned, his eyebrows creased as he looks over the two. Great, now his teacher knew something was up between them too, just what he wanted.

“Now, I see that some of you are still struggling with this trust exercise,” Mr. Keating says pointedly although there were still a few groups besides them who had yet to complete the fall too. “I want you to think about why you chose your partner. I could have easily assigned groups of two, but I let all of you choose who you wanted to be paired with because I knew there had to be some sense of camaraderie that way. Well, if you chose your partner, why are you so hesitant to trust them now? I’ve already told you that they’ll get sent to the principal if they fail to catch you, so what is holding you back?”

All of his points make total sense, they do, but Neil can’t help but scornfully think about how he would have had no problem if Keating just did this exercise a few weeks earlier, if he actually got to choose and was in a group with Charlie. Why did fate have to be so cruel?

“Once you successfully fall and catch the other, you can switch spots and try the exercise that way,” Keating closes off as he resumes to stalk through the groups to observe their progress, although his eyes often flit towards him and Todd.

Neil can’t worry about that right now, though, because he still needed to figure out how to do a simple task like falling into his friend’s arms.

“Ready,” Todd says once again, frustration still lightly coating his tone. For a second, Neil lets himself wonder if he’s hurting Todd’s feelings by showcasing such distrust in him. He probably was, but he felt like Todd had little room to blame him given he was the reason they hadn’t been speaking for the last few weeks.

Nodding to let him know he heard him, Neil figures he should try to think of all of the times Todd has proven to be a trustworthy friend rather than the one time he left him hanging.

Falling back on his heels once again, Neil closes his eyes tightly as he tries to think about all of the mornings Todd had woken up just to help coax him back to sleep, all of the days they spent writing parallel to one another and keeping each other’s secrets, all of the times Todd’s sensed something was wrong and had been there for him like the time on the rooftop. Neil’s scared, but he doesn’t let his legs move as all of his fond memories of Todd flash in his mind.

Before he even knows what’s happening, Todd’s arms are hooked under Neil’s armpits and he’s inches from the ground, hovering above. Todd had caught him.

Helping him back up to be upright once again, Neil can’t help but smile at Todd and let out a little laugh from the adrenaline alone. Perplexed, Todd smiles and laughs back.

Although Todd stumbles for his first fall once it’s his turn, they get through the trust exercise with blazing colors after that, both of them completely silent but things feeling more like they’re back normal since the kiss all those weeks ago. Neil can't help but muse that maybe they’d be okay after all.

“Now,” Mr. Keating calls out after a few more minutes of them doing the exercise, causing everyone to huddle up after they all had gotten the hang of it. “Who can guess why I had you guys do this exercise today?”

Some of the students throw out some guesses, all of them seeming to be close but still missing the mark.

“Because love is an act of trust itself?” Meeks poses after a few wrong guesses in a row. Although it doesn’t seem to be the exact answer Keating wants, he nods and goes along with it anyway.

“I wanted an answer pertaining more to your assigned reading, but Mr. Meeks here has practically got it,” Keating affirms as he walks in a circle in the middle of the group. “Can anyone tell me how this loving act of trust applies to ‘The Last Leaf’ by our favorite short story writer O. Henry?”

Some mumbled guesses make their way out, hypothesizing ideas like the main character’s trust in her friend getting better is a trusting act of love or something along those lines, but Keating denies each and every guess. And then, of course, Todd raises his hand like he always seems to do now when everyone else is at a loss for an answer.

“Behrman puts his trust in Johnsy by taking her concerns seriously. He thought her superstition about the vine leaves was nonsense, but because he decided to believe her unlike everyone else, he showed his love,” Todd mumbles out, his face reddening the longer Neil looks at him.

“Exactly,” Keating affirms with a smile that makes it up to his eyes. “Like Mr. Anderson was saying, even though everyone in the story thought it was stupid that Johnsy was determining her wellbeing off of the leaves on the vine outside her window, Behrman shows his love by trusting that her concerns are legitimate and goes as far as painting a fake leaf in the rain and sleet just to help her. Even though this ends up being a sacrifice of his own life, this final act of love works to be the masterpiece Behrman was always wanting to paint because he created a symbol of trust and love.”

Hearing it come from Keating, the story seemed so straightforward now. Before, Neil couldn’t really figure what painting and pneumonia and leaves had to do with love in the first place.

“Even though this short story doesn’t have any romantic love plots, it illustrates how strong platonic love can be as well. Although I’m sure it was hard for all of you to trust your partner at first when doing the trust exercise, things seemed to get easier the more you did it, especially after you switched your initial places. By now understanding your friend’s perspective and being in their shoes, you were able to accommodate one another accordingly and then trust.”

Neil wonders if love is really as simple as trust, as simple as understanding one another’s perspectives. It felt like so much more, but he also couldn’t think of a better way to describe how he felt when first kissing Todd other than a trusting freefall towards certain doom.

Maybe what they were missing was a shared perspective; maybe how Neil saw what happened in the cave was completely different from how Todd saw it. Looking over at his friend’s face and remembering how they laughed together for the first time in weeks just a few minutes ago, he wonders if there was still hope for them after all.

With the aching gap of no longer going to the cave with Todd anymore but still needing to get away, Neil found himself actually fulfilling the lie he gave to the Poets a while ago and started studying on the staircase furthest from everything every now and then.

The ledge of the window halfway up the stairs was just big enough for him to sit comfortably with his books and notes splayed out before him, and the view wasn’t bad either. But now that it was April and the snow had finally melted, Neil couldn’t help but feel mocked by the beautiful and lush greenery which surrounded Welton.

Soon enough, wildflowers would start to coat the fields rather than dotting them like they were right now. Neil didn’t want to run into the wildflower he gave to Todd all those months ago, the wonderment on his face still ingrained into his mind. God, he really was an idiot for taking so long to realize that he liked Todd.

It was hard to interact with anything now that he and Todd weren’t talking; Neil never realized how entwined his friend was in his life until all he had left were reminders which brought distant memories hurtling to the forefront of his mind. The books Todd gave him as gifts, the cave, poetry in general, the way he held his fork, the story Of Mice and Men, Keating’s classes, the way he shook his head when one of the Poets said something idiotic, every song he managed to hear, his jacket he let Todd borrow once, the way he sat on the end of his bed, the portable chess board he buried in his desk; practically everything was affected by Todd, and Neil felt insane as he was scorched by his memory no matter how he tried to rid his friend from his mind.

Neil felt like giving up was the thing. He had been debating for almost three weeks now if he should fight for him and Todd – a hopeless and predetermined battle – or just let bygones be bygones. Although learning that Laurence Rich was actually Todd and the laughter during Keating’s lesson gave him glimmers of hope, Todd’s pointed poem about just saying goodbye the other night and his decision to let their silence stretch on served to squash whatever hopes Neil had garnered.

Todd was right; why should they let this faulty within them ruin the rest of their lives? Surely separation was the solution; Neil had felt just fine and was somewhat okay with his future before he had ever met Todd, after all.

So now he studies alone when he can manage it, sprawling out his papers in the windowsill and biting down on his pencil if he ever gets the urge to look up and talk as if Todd was there. He’s nearly chewed through the damned thing.

He’s biting so hard on his pencil and willing himself to focus on the geography paper in front of him rather than think of Todd so much that he doesn’t hear the footsteps approaching him.

“Neil?” a voice rings out, startling Neil from his paper as his pencil clatters down onto the floor.

On the edge of the staircase is Charlie, who is looking more timid and unsure of himself than Neil has ever seen him. Neil has half a mind to be worried once he gathers his bearings, even though he’s still pissed at him for pitting him and Todd to being on the same team for the trust exercises.

“What? Did something bad happen?” he asks abruptly, immediately assuming the worst. Was someone hurt? Did Nolan find out about them starting the society meetings again? Has Keating been fired? Did Todd transfer to another school?

“Nothing,” Charlie answers with a crease in his brow, tampering down all of Neil’s worst fears with that simple word. “I mean, nothing that I know of.”

Now it’s time for Neil to furrow his brow, his worry quickly transforming into confusion. “What do you mean by that?”

During their short conversation, Charlie slowly walked up to the windowsill to sit opposite of him. Swinging his legs up and over to rest on the ledge, Charlie mirrors Neil from about five feet away as he answers.

“Neil, what’s going on between you and Todd? Something’s up,” Charlie practically sighs out, seeming to dread the question but not knowing any other way to word it.

And shit. Neil had thought that he was playing the part of the carefree group leader well enough to bat away any of the suspicion the Poets had. Sure, something was clearly off, but it’s not like Neil thought it’d ever be important enough to address past the teasing in Keating’s class.

Neil thinks about all of the ways he could respond in this moment. He can jump at Charlie’s throat and accuse him of being too nosy, he could close himself off and simply be evasive, he could double down on his act and play dumb; there were really countless possibilities.

But Neil was already so alone. And maybe he’d been alone all of this time and just never knew it. He was drifting close enough to his friends to think that he was on the same boat as them, but then when he actually looked down, he found that he was on a solitary raft destined to drift away no matter how hard he paddled.

Maybe this is why he instinctively knew he was weak as opposed to strong during the Of Mice and Men lessons, maybe this is why he almost took his own life over a year ago now. Because deep down, he always knew he was different and there was no saving him.

So Neil could double down and accept his life of being stranded, or he could paddle as hard as he can for as long as his arms will allow, hoping to catch up and grasp onto some sense of normalcy so he won’t be left behind. He’s tired of being alone, so he does the craziest thing he could think of: he reaches out.

“We- we had a fight,” Neil supplies simply, not knowing how else to phrase it without outing both him and Todd. But still, it was an attempt to actually talk to Charlie rather than just pushing him away like every part of his body wished he would.

“Neil, we’ve fought before, but we’ve always made up by the next day or two,” Charlie supplies after a lengthy silence, seeming to want to make eye contact with him from the way Neil sees his head move in the lacquered reflection of the wood. Neil wasn’t ready for that yet, so he keeps his eyes trained on his pre calc homework instead. “What’s so different about this fight?”

The same feeling Neil gets when he thinks too hard when he’s alone, the same feeling he gets behind his eyes when he’s in Keating’s office for too long starts to build at Charlie’s question. What was so different about this fight? Why couldn’t his and Todd’s supposedly strong friendship come back from this fumble?

Neil wishes he knew how to say it. He failed Todd, he failed himself, he failed everyone around them. He was in a continuous act of failing because his heart couldn’t help but cling onto some semblance of hope that there was still a chance for him and Todd. Why couldn’t he get it through his thick skull that the best thing for him to do is push Todd away until the swelling in his chest deflates into indifference?

“I- I did something really bad, Charlie. I don’t know if he’ll ever forgive me,” Neil somehow manages to get out, figuring he’ll shut down if Charlie ever asks for any specifics. Telling anyone about what happened between him and Todd in the cave was out of the question.

“Did you- I guess, did you do what you did out of malice? Did you do it because you wanted to hurt Todd?” Charlie asks after a bit more silence, his words more calm and quiet than Neil could ever remember coming out of his mouth.

Neil has to look up and meet Charlie’s gaze to confirm it was him and that this wasn’t some prank. He often forgot that the loud and cocky demeanor his friend took on was often just an act even though Neil did much of the same thing. With a little humor, Neil wonders how fucked he and Todd are if their situation made Charlie be serious for once.

“No,” Neil supplies simply as an answer, still feeling like he wants to cry as he breaks their eye contact. “Course not.”

“Well, then I’m sure Todd would forgive you, yeah?” Charlie affirms after his response. “And if he doesn’t, well, maybe he just needs some time.”

Neil nods along, knowing Charlie’s advice was wise but still begrudging to hear it. What if Todd was never ready for his apology? What if he didn’t want an apology from the likes of Neil? He’s so wrapped up in his degeneracy that Charlie’s next comment almost passes him completely.

“He loves you, you know?”

Neil blinks rapidly, desperate to push back his tears before they fall. Surely that’s not what Charlie just said, but he also heard him loud and clear. Did he know how he felt about Todd too? Did he know it was more than a platonic love?

“You think so?” is all Neil can muster to get past his lips without sounding like a fool. In the reflection of the windowsill, he sees Charlie nod.

“I mean, we all love you Neil, even if we’re not the best at saying it. But Todd has been friends with us for so much shorter, and he still seems to value what you say the most,” he affirms, making Neil’s heart hurt for a moment. In the midst of all of his self hatred, he had forgotten how much the Poets really loved him. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m pissed, but if anyone had to take my title of being your best friend, I’m glad it was Todd.”

Charlie’s comment makes Neil laugh, albeit a bit wetly, as he finally looks up to see that he has that stupid arrogant smile on his face. The cocky bastard.

“You’re still my best friend,” Neil’s saying before he can think better of it because it’s true. It’s been him and Charlie for as long as he can remember, and he wasn’t about to let that friendship die now, the boat and raft be damned.

Charlie rolls his eyes as he bats his hand in his direction. “Aw, cut it out with that shit. We both know the truth.”

“It is the truth,” Neil repeats with a smile. “I can have more than one best friend, you know.”

“Okay, fine, you win. We’re best friends,” Charlie gives in, pretending that this moment is too cheesy for him but smiling in a way Neil knows that it’s the perfect amount. “So you’ll make up with him, yeah?” he asks after a few beats of comfortable silence between them.

Neil starts nodding before he starts speaking. “Yeah, I will. I’ll try, anyway.”

“Thank god," Charlie laments after his confirmation. "I don’t think I could handle another day of your pouty faces.”

Faking offense, Neil gasps before throwing a pencil Charlie’s way. “I do not pout!”

“I’m gonna need to take a picture of you at the next society meeting because there is actually no better word to explain your face than pouty,” Charlie counters, picking up the pencil and throwing it right back.

And so their conversation went on, hurling innocent and hollow insults at one another through their laughter, the pencil accompanying them through the back and forth of their faux fight. For the first time in weeks, though, Neil feels light.

Before Charlie eventually leaves to let Neil study in peace, he confesses in a simple voice, “No matter what happens, I’ll always be in your corner.”

Before Neil can so much as reflect the sentiment, Charlie’s down the stairwell and out the door, obviously wanting the last word. Staring in his wake, Neil fights the urge to cry once again.

He wants to cry because he wasn’t sure how Charlie’s statement would hold if he knew the truth. It was 1961 for chrissakes, Neil doesn’t think he’d accept any of his friends being a homosexual if he wasn’t one himself.

Even though this thought threatens to weigh him down tremendously, Neil refuses to let it affect his light feeling. Charlie had come here to reassure him, to get him to fight for Todd, and that’s what he was going to do.

Sure, he may never be able to tell the Poets about how he really feels about Todd or his degeneracy, but they knew the closest version of the real him besides that fact and still loved him. Even though Neil was different, maybe he could find a way to tie his raft onto their boat so he could trail along.

After being served a reality check from none other than Charlie, Neil decides that he does have to try harder with Todd; not just weakly try to talk to him in the night, but actually try. He wanted to figure out why Todd initially went with the kiss just to startle away, wanted to know why he was avoiding him like the plague.

But how? It’s not like he could ask a simple “so, why did you kiss me?” after weeks of radio silence. Thinking back to Keating’s class, Neil figures that he needs to blindly trust and take a fall; he needs to try to understand Todd’s perspective on all of this in order to put their silence to rest.

Which leads to now, Neil sliding into the spot next to Todd during free time, the rest of the Poets so engrossed in studying that they don’t pay any mind to them. Or at least Neil hopes; they could be nosy sometimes.

“Todd, can I talk to you?” Neil practically whispers to his friend, not wanting to garner any unwanted attention. He’s hunched over and leaning towards Todd’s space while still not intruding on it. Weirdly enough, it reminds him of when he first asked Todd if he wanted to be a part of the Dead Poets Society.

Rather than answer like a normal person, though, Todd just turns his body to the opposite direction, his eyes never leaving his geography homework since that was apparently so riveting all of the sudden.

“Todd,” Neil whispers once again, just scooting closer in response to the turn, “can we please just–”

Before he can finish what he’s saying, though, Todd is standing up and packing his study materials into his bag. Once he’s done with that, he’s walking out of the room without so much as a glance in Neil’s direction. It was like the cave all over again.

Neil felt defeated; he was petrified in the cave, and he felt about the same right now as he was stuck watching Todd flee the scene without so much as a word. He knows the Poets are probably looking at him with confusion and pity, can practically feel their gazes on the side of his head, but he refuses to turn to them to confirm his suspicions.

Instead, he forces himself to get up on his wobbly legs and follow Todd out of the study room into the hall. He felt terrified that he was pushing Todd too much, that he was doing irreversible damage to their friendship, but he knew he couldn’t just let Todd leave again like when he abandoned the cave, couldn’t let him remain silent like he did the other night. That was why they were in this shit in the first place.

So now Neil’s walking down the hall, seeing glimpses of Todd’s dirty brown hair and following that while he tries his best to not overthink the situation.

“Todd,” he calls out to hopefully slow him down, but that only serves to quicken his friend’s steps. Great, now Neil felt like he was chasing Todd down, which he supposes he was.

And wasn’t this how their friendship always felt, Neil chasing and tracking Todd down in hopes for any scraps he would offer about himself, practically trapping Todd in a corner to learn anything personal about him? Their time in the cave had finally felt free enough that Neil had forgotten what it felt like to go to such lengths to understand his friend, but here he was, physically chasing Todd down in hopes of salvaging their relationship.

Rather than overthinking it, Neil merely speeds up his pace to match Todd’s and calls out his name again. Weaving through different halls and branches of the school, they eventually end up outside.

Since it’s nicer out now that spring was here, all of the sports were starting to get back into full swing, the rowing team grazing the water with their boats, the soccer team running drills through staggered cones, the fencing team sparring around the field.

Neil tries his best to remember back to when his life was as simple as stressing about classes and sports, but that all seems like a faint memory now as weaves through the fencers and keeps his eyes trained on Todd. Even with all of the shit he’s had to deal with recently, he wouldn’t trade the last year and a half for anything.

He keeps calling out his name to no avail, keeping up with his pace from a distance easily thanks to all of the drills he ran during boot camp. Todd seems to be nearing the woods; was he heading towards the cave to get away?

And then they’re in the woods, Neil trying to keep his eyes set on Todd as they traverse the ground they usually did on days when everything was fine, only now they were twenty feet apart and not on speaking terms.

“Todd!” Neil calls out louder now that they’re alone. As crazy as the process was to get here, this actually worked better for what he had planned.

“What?” Todd asks almost as loud as his yawp was last year, suddenly turning around with an exasperated face as he does so.

Neil feels himself falter for a second, never really being on the end of Todd’s anger before. His peeved and frustrated face made Neil want to crawl into a hole and die, but he wasn’t going to give up on them so easily.

Shaking his head slightly to himself, Neil paces up to be right in front of Todd. He was glad they were about equal in height at moments like this.

Taking out a packet from his bag, Neil suddenly shoves some papers into Todd’s chest. “I want to run over some lines.”

Todd looks at him with the most bewildered look he’s ever managed before breaking out into a laugh that manages to sound frustrated and nervous at the same time, his eyes darting around the forest as if he was making sure this was real and not some bizarre dream.

“I’m not sure if you noticed,” Todd says after his laugh through a frustrated scoff, “but now isn’t really the best time to run lines with me.”

“There’s never a good time to run lines with you anymore,” Neil counters immediately, not letting Todd get out of it since he had come this far.

“Don’t you think there’s maybe a reason for that?” Todd asks rhetorically, being more cutting than Neil has ever seen him. Fuck, who knew that arguing with Todd would be one of the hardest things in the world?

“Look,” Neil says, breathing out to calm himself in the midst of the panic of being on the receiving end of Todd’s frustration. “I just want to run through these lines once. If you never want to talk to me again afterwards, that’s fine, I’ll respect that. But just do this for me one last time.”

Saying “one last time” makes Neil want to die, imagining a future where he’s stuck in ten years of medical school without so much as a letter from Todd to ease him. But he has to say it no matter how hard it is because he needs Todd to understand that there was only so much time left before they graduated, before they were off to their own predetermined fates. This conversation really was his last chance to win Todd back, in a sense, because it was the last time Neil would be able to gather up his courage like this.

Without saying anything, Todd finally receives his packet of papers with a distrustful face. Neil feels himself exhale a bit from the relief of Todd at least doing this.

“You’ll read David, I’ll read William,” Neil instructs as he goes through his bag to get his own copy of the play.

“What?” Todd starts to ask automatically, confused most likely by the idea of them playing each other. Or maybe it was because it was only a scene of their characters. Maybe a mix of both.

“Just do it, please,” Neil pleads, albeit a bit annoyed at Todd’s protests. Baring his soul like this was hard enough, so Todd making this process feel akin to pulling teeth did not help at all.

Looking over to Todd once he’s situated and ready to read his lines, Neil sees more than the surface level frustration he was hoping to project. In his eyes, Neil sees the same fear Todd had after their kiss. All of the harsh words he’s said this afternoon now suddenly lose their cut to Neil and rather take on the form of a self defense mechanism, seems more like a kicked dog lashing out than anything.

Before Neil can think much more about it, though, Todd is looking down to his paper and reciting his lines. “William, wait,” he reads out as David, his voice seemingly flat and begrudging on purpose. Whatever, Neil could still work with this.

“What? Why should I wait when there’s nothing you could possibly say to make this okay?” Neil reads out as William, trying to reflect the frustration Todd had just showcased earlier.

“Maybe I can’t make this better. Maybe that’s not our job,” Todd reads out as David, his voice still indifferent but his eyebrows now pinched at the turn in the conversation.

Neil had spent the last few early mornings and lonely afternoons just writing this scene to perfect it as much as he could when he should have been working on homework. He thought that maybe taking on Todd’s perspective and making them read out each other’s thoughts regarding their kiss would help somehow, that having a script to read from would ensure he'd say the right thing. As bizarre as it seemed to act out the scene now, Neil couldn’t figure any other way to attempt to salvage their relationship since this is how it all started, really.

“We can’t just- we can’t just do what we did and expect to be fine,” Neil reads out as Todd’s character, putting the same fearful tone in his voice that his friend had in the cave.

“Why not?” Todd asks simply as David, his face unreadable now as he recites his lines. Neil wasn’t sure if this was getting through to him at all, his friend now uncannily stiff and his eyes glued to his paper like he’ll die if he looks up.

Neil lets a few tense seconds pass before reading out his next line as William. “How are you not scared?”

“I’m terrified,” Todd reads out as Neil’s character, his face seeming stricken now. “But I’m not going to let other people decide our lives for us.”

“So, what? You think we can just run away and everything will be fine? That all of our problems will disappear that easily?” Neil asks rhetorically as William, a sense of hopelessness working its way into his voice. He figured he had to somehow work the dialogue into the play to justify the scene somehow, so he made the conversation center around how the two characters came to running away.

“I’m not saying that running away is gonna fix anything,” Todd reads out as David, his voice coming out slightly garbled now. Neil’s afraid to look up at him, not sure if his voice has changed out of sadness or anger. “But at least it would be something. At least it would be closer to a life I want to live.”

“Oh, so you want to live like an outcast? Just say goodbye to your friends and family like that?” Neil counters as Todd’s character, knowing that this must be how he was thinking about the whole situation.

“I wouldn’t feel like an outcast if I was with you,” Todd counters, his response taking a second to combat Neil’s even though the gap isn’t in the script. “Do you- do you just want to stay stuck in law school, in the path your parents chose for you? Do you want to find a nice girl, settle down, have a few kids, and be trapped in a life you never fucking wanted in the first place?”

Neil lets the air linger for a moment before responding, Todd’s breathing ragged now. “No,” he finally says quietly as William.

Todd takes a few seconds before reading out one of his final lines, his face unreadable. “So run away with me.”

Before Neil can launch into his next part, Todd is scoffing and shoving the papers back in his chest, stalking away just like he was before. He was leaving again; Neil’s world was ending again.

“Todd!” Neil calls out, at a loss for words without a script to follow. How was he supposed to know what to say to keep him around now?

But Todd keeps retreating, seeming dead set on fading into the forest. Feeling his throat start to close, Neil says whatever he can to not lose his friend in this moment.

“I know you’re Laurence Rich,” Neil finds himself claiming before he can think logically about the situation, laying all of his cards out too early. Seeing Todd halt in his steps, Neil finds the blind bravery to complete his thought. “I know your poem was about me.”

It’s stupid and presumptuous, but it works. His friend’s ears heat up so much that Neil can see it even from their distance. He starts to close the gap between them until Todd finally speaks, stopping him in his tracks.

“Neil-” Todd starts to say before cutting himself off, still staying turned away. Finally, he faces Neil and continues what he was saying. “That- your play? That’s not how it works. It’s not that simple.”

As negative as Todd was being, he still wasn’t denying what Neil had boldly claimed. So the poem about chasing the dragon really was about him? The admission gives Neil just enough courage as he needs now when facing Todd.

“Why can’t it be?” Neil finds himself asking before he can think better of it, pacing closer to his friend as he feels them shift into their own roles now since he was practically pleading like David was in the scene.

Todd remains silent after that, not rushing away like he was before but not seeming to be able to conjure up a response. Maybe he already knew the answer and was just afraid of hurting Neil’s feelings.

Not being able to take the silence, Neil tries to ask something, anything to make him talk. “Todd, why were you so scared after we kissed? Why did you run away?”

Todd seems to wince at the word “kiss” leaving Neil’s mouth, but besides that, he doesn’t respond at all. His eyes remain trained on the forest floor, his brows creased but his overall nature despondent and scared. Neil finds himself spiraling before he can stop himself.

“Was- was it something I did?” he asks quietly, his eyes trained on the ground now. “I guess, I don’t know… I thought that it would be okay since you kissed me first. I didn’t mean to- I don’t want to ruin our friendship because I made a stupid mistake-”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Neil,” Todd cuts him off suddenly, his voice more watery than before.

“Then why did you run away?” Neil can’t help but follow up, more confused now than he was when this whole conversation started. So Todd running away wasn’t Neil’s fault?

“I can’t- I just need more time,” Todd says, stumbling over his own words as he struggles to get them out. When he starts to retreat once again, Neil doesn’t chase him or call out his name this time. He had exposed too much of himself during their conversation, and now the fate of their relationship was entirely in Todd’s hands. 

“I’m so sick of jello,” Knox comments once they were permitted to sit down at the dinner table, their food served and ready to be eaten like it is every afternoon at 6 p.m. sharp.

“At least it’s better than the watery pudding they like to serve on Fridays,” Meeks points out, folding his napkin into his lap before scooting forward.

“You guys are acting like any of the food they serve here is preferable,” Pitts counters, stabbing his fork into some mushy carrots as if to emphasize his point.

“You can still have favorites among a pool of bad choices,” Cameron chimes in, trying to make the conversation sound more like a lab report than anything.

“The food here is just shit. Case closed,” Charlie resolves the debate resolutely.

One of their favorite things to talk about during meals was how bad the food at Welton was. If they were going to be trapped at this school and forced to work practically every waking hour, the least they could do was feed them well.

“The spaghetti isn’t that bad,” Todd provides after a few seconds, only gaining a few subtly bewildered looks at his addition.

Even though Neil assumed that the “time” Todd needed at the end of their conversation in the woods was a way to brush him off indefinitely, slowly but surely Todd had started to speak more and more over the past week. It went from radio silence to a faint murmur every now and then, but it still made Neil’s heart race stupidly fast when Todd would so much as ask to borrow his pencil in their room. Maybe he hadn’t been lying when he said he just needed some time.

Across the table, Charlie gives him a knowing look as if Neil was the sole reason Todd was speaking again. He wasn’t too sure if that was the case, didn’t want to claim so before he knew for sure, but he had followed Charlie’s advice and fought for Todd. Shaking his head minutely with a smile on his face, Neil tries to wave off the premature approval from his friend.

The conversation goes on like that, the Poets rambling about one thing or another and Todd chiming in every now and then when a thought he has doesn’t get expressed by anyone else. Neil had missed his unique perspective and contributions, and from the easy laughter and flow of conversation, he suspects the others felt the same way too.

Not before long, though, the Poets have ramped up in volume as they banter about the sheer amount of security the school was under, their meals long forgotten due to their passion over the subject.

“You’d think if they taught us so well, they wouldn’t have to keep us locked up with a watchdog at night,” Charlie snarks with his arms crossed.

“Yeah, the amount of distrust they show in their students only incentivizes more rebellion,” Meeks adds, his hands splayed out on the table like he was ready to jump up and get into the conversation further. Neil was about 99% sure he had read some sort of study about the issue given how sure his statement was.

“It’s only for the younger students–” Cameron starts to point out defensively, ever the devil’s advocate when conversations critiquing the school come up.

“Oh, shut up Cam. You know it’s a load of bullshit,” Knox dismisses his point quickly.

“Yeah, do you remember wanting to run away to visit the city when you were younger?” Pitts asks, leaving a gap for an answer before speaking again even though the question was rhetorical. “No, exactly. The watchdogs and security is just for the older students because they don’t trust us at all.”

“Well, they have a point if we keep doing it,” Cameron counters pretty hotly after, poking the bear at this point.

“And who set the system up to where we would–” Charlie starts to practically yell before abruptly falling silent as his eyes widen. Whipping his head around, Neil’s eyes settle on what he was looking at: Mr. Nolan.

Whispered warnings spread amongst them before they fell completely silent, their dinners suddenly remembered as they kept their eyes trained on their plates and their mouths stuffed.

Nolan makes his rounds through the dining hall, eventually stopping next to their table because of course he does. He hasn’t forgotten the Charlie incident last year, so the whole group of them have to suffer the additional surveillance because of it.

“Enjoying a nice, quiet dinner boys?” Mr. Nolan asks, his voice dripping with suspicion even though he has nothing he can pin on them. All of them start automatically nodding their heads in response.

“Yes sir, the dinners at Welton are always delicious,” Cameron laments like the kissass he is, although the rest of them had to admit that it’s beneficial at times like this.

Mr. Nolan merely nods his head once to acknowledge the statement, his gaze lingering on each and every one of them for a few seconds each before finally breaking away to interrogate some other kids.

He’s in the room for a few more minutes, taking his time to thoroughly stride beside each and every table before leaving. Once he’s out and they’re in the clear, though, the Poets all break out into laughter.

“Oh my god, Charlie, your face,” is Neil’s contribution to all of the laughing and simultaneous remarks they had once Nolan was gone, gaining some of the nearby teachers’ attention but not caring enough to quell it. How could they punish them for laughter anyway?

“Do you think he heard us?” Cameron starts to ask worriedly, though the rest of them bat the idea away.

“His head’s too far up his own ass to hear anything,” Charlie comments reassuringly, reviving their laughter all over again.

The rest of their dinner remains like that, the Poets stuck in a giggly fit and bantering. By the time they had showered and brushed their teeth, the group finally calmed down enough for the night.

Neil felt overjoyed at how easy the air was between them tonight, more lively than it had been in the past three weeks due to Todd’s contribution. Maybe the world wasn't ending.

Looking over to Todd in his bed now cuddled up with Puck, – yes, Todd had never given the stuffed animal up even in the midst of their silence – Neil feels a warm feeling spread throughout him as the same breathlessness he’d struggled with so much all year afflicted him once again.

Somewhere along the lines of writing out the scene between him and Todd and all of the life lessons about love the world seemed to be dishing to him, Neil had become okay with the breathless feeling his friend gave him. Sure, he was pretty certain that the storm which raged within him would never go away, would never cease no matter what he did, but he’d gotten better at dealing with it.

Feeling this odd sense of calm in the midst of his internal storm and the fondness he had for his friend tonight, Neil finds himself speaking before he can even think better of it.

“Todd?” is all he can say, catapulting him back to the other night where he tried to talk to his friend only to be ignored.

In the silence that answers him once again, Neil is harshly reminded that even though Todd was acting more himself around the Poets, it still didn’t mean he was necessarily talking to him.

“Yeah?” Todd’s quiet voice barely asks above the sound of crickets which were crooning outside of their window. Neil hopes the second it takes for him to respond doesn’t reveal the way his heart jumped up in his throat from that simple word.

“Why…” Neil starts before thinking better of it. Should he really be hurtling into such serious topics when their friendship was already so up in the air? “Why did you run away? Why were you so scared?”

The cover of night, the darkness spread across them like a blanket, gives Neil the courage to ask the same question he did a week ago. Maybe he was hoping the dark would give Todd the same boldness to spill his guts like he did months ago when they talked about last summer. Neil wondered how many times he could ask the question before Todd grew tired of him, before he finally admitted the truth was because he decided it was a mistake to kiss him.

He didn’t want to let on that he had seen the poem he accidentally left behind, not yet. He wanted to see how Todd himself would explain why he ran away after their kiss.

“Neil, I don’t… There’s not a simple answer,” Todd replies quietly after a few beats, his voice seeming sleepy. Maybe Neil should have saved this question for a better time, but he’s pretty sure there would always be a better hypothetical time until they were out of chances to speak altogether.

“I’ve got time,” is all Neil can think to respond, earning a weak chuckle from Todd. After that, though, a long silence gaps between them. Neil was just starting to think that his friend had fallen asleep before a voice broke through the air again.

“You- you have to promise that no one hears a word about this. If you told anyone…” Todd starts to say seriously before trailing off, seeming wrapped up in thought.

“Todd, I would never. I haven’t said anything about what you told me about last summer to a living soul, yeah?” Neil reassures, knowing he would never so much as think of spilling Todd’s secrets for a few seconds of gossip. “I promise I won’t ever repeat a word of what you say. We’re in this together now.”

And maybe it’s too far to be referring to how they’re both degenerates , but Todd seems to be reassured with the way he breathes out a sigh. Even so, it takes him a while before he speaks again.

“So at my old school, I had a really good friend named Michael,” Todd starts, immediately piquing Neil’s interest since he knew practically nothing about Todd before he started Welton besides the sparse childhood stories he would share on rare occasions. “We were close; we would usually joke around in the back of the class while the teacher taught something on the chalkboard.”

“Really?” Neil can’t help but ask even though he had planned on staying quiet for this confession. He just couldn’t seem to picture Todd talking during class, much less being disrespectful and joking the way Charlie does.

Luckily, Todd lets out a laugh at his bewilderment rather than take offense. “Yeah. You know, I wasn’t always… like this, I guess. I used to answer questions in class a lot more.”

Neil’s mind was blown by this new information, not seeming to be able to wrap his head around a Todd who would speak publicly so easily. He supposes he saw glimpses of that Todd before everything went to shit, raising his hand in Keating’s class more and more often, screaming his lines that one time last semester when they were rehearsing Neil’s play.

“So you were like Cameron?” Neil can’t help but tease as a smile cracks over his face.

“Hey, no,” Todd admonishes almost offendedly. “I was still quiet, just not as much. I was more like a mix of Meeks and Knox, quietly joking every now and then and answering when needed. I still had a problem with talking in front of people, but it was easier back then, I guess.”

Silence stretches between them after that, Todd probably reeling over memories while Neil tries to absorb this new information. So Todd who had been deadly quiet for as long as he’d known him hadn’t always been so? Why was he admitting all of this now?

“So,” Neil picks back up after a lengthy gap of silence, “tell me about this Michael kid.”

Todd lets out a big sigh before picking back up where he left off. “Everyone called him Mike. He was more like a mix of you and Charlie, always so loud and just, I don’t know, out there. He was the one who did most of the joking; I’d just laugh along. I don’t know why he became friends with a nobody like me in the first place, maybe how quiet I was helped balance him out,” he thinks out loud as he softly and methodically goes through the information.

Neil wants to insist that Todd wasn’t a nobody, that anyone would be lucky to have him as a friend, but he bites his tongue since he knows that will just get them in a cyclical argument. He resigns to let Todd take the time he needs to continue.

“Mike, he was… I don’t know how to describe him, really. He was only my best friend for about a year, but I still got into some minor trouble with him for things like talking during class. I didn’t really care, though,” Todd admits in a burst before going silent again. Still, Neil remained wordless so his friend had no pressure about confessing all of this to him.

“He was into theater, too. He would always get the lead roles just because he was so involved, not because he was really that good. Not a lot of guys were into it in the first place, so there wasn’t much competition anyway,” Todd admits almost wistfully, as if he was within a fond memory now as he relayed this information.

Neil feels jealousy build up within him before he suppresses it. It’s insane to be jealous of your friend’s previous best friend, idiotic even, especially since Neil had never heard anything about him until now.

“Anyway,” Todd says after a few beats, “he was my best friend for a while. I… I really liked him,” he confesses, not seeming to be able to say simple words like “crush” about the other boy. Neil couldn’t blame him, though, because he could hardly think about how fond he was of Todd in his mind without spiraling, much less say it out loud.

“He was showing me the set pieces of a production one day after school, and no one was there. He had his arm around me, and he kept, I don’t know… looking at me? But it was different; I don’t know how to explain it,” Todd struggles to voice, but Neil knows exactly what he means.

He assumes he had looked at Todd the same way many times when sitting next to him in the cave, when watching him recite poetry. Todd gave him a certain look sometimes too, like when he gave him wildflowers or his stuffed animal. Neil tries not to get carried away with the thought, focusing back on what Todd was saying as warmth spread through him at the memories.

“I could have sworn that he liked me too, so I… you know…” Todd admits, his voice going even quieter than before as if voicing his thoughts from back then would cause god to strike him down where he laid. 

After seeing that confessing such things didn’t warrant any sort of divine intervention, Todd continues on, though his voice is small and watery. “Things were fine for a moment. Things were actually really good. But then… I guess I picked up on all of the wrong signals, that he was just my friend. One moment we were kissing, the next he had socked me in the face.”

Neil felt his blood run cold at the confession. Todd’s previous best friend had fucking punched him? What kind of friend was that? Did he startle away from their kiss when Neil raised his hands to hold his face because he thought he was going to punch him? Is that why he was so scared in the cave?

“What–” he starts to voice as much before Todd rushes to cut him off.

“It was my fault, really. I couldn’t imagine someone I trusted that much coming onto me after so long,” Todd attempts to reason, trying to wave off all of Neil’s concern.

“Todd,” Neil says after a few seconds, trying to steady his shaky voice. “A real friend would have turned you down gently even if he didn’t like you. A friend wouldn’t- wouldn’t punch you in the fucking face.”

He wants Todd, no, needs Todd to understand that he did nothing wrong. From what he could tell, Mike probably liked Todd back – who wouldn’t? – but was too scared of being a homo to face that. So rather than acting like an actual friend, he went with the easiest option of being an asshole.

Neil wants to voice all of these observations, but he realizes by looking at the side of his friend’s face in the dark of night that a few impassioned words wouldn’t unravel beliefs years in the making. Todd had spent so long repeating these lies to himself, spent so long believing that he was in the wrong that Neil knew he wouldn’t be able to convince him otherwise, at least not now, so he held his tongue.

“Word got out that we fought, but luckily the rumor was that we both liked the same girl from his theater production, Janie. If people knew what actually happened…” Todd’s voice trails off once again, seeming scared to even finish the thought.

Neil wants to be grateful that at least Mike didn’t out Todd, but he knew deep down that it was only to save his own skin. Being so much as associated with a homo labeled you as a degenerate too, regardless of what you really were, so he knew the rumor was just out of survival rather than kindness.

“Once my dad was finally home long enough to notice the bruise on my face, he had me pulled from the school to be homeschooled for the rest of sophomore year,” Todd relays the events to him, his tone spiteful despite how small his voice still was. “He said it was for my safety, but I knew it was because he couldn’t stand me ruining our family’s reputation.”

What Todd was saying was the truth, but it doesn’t make it sting any less. Although Neil’s dad was overbearing and controlling, at least he pretended that he did what he did out of Neil’s best interest. Todd’s dad hardly even disguised his actions from being ones made for himself.

“He sent me here since Jeff did so well at Welton. Maybe he thought it would, I don’t know, fix me,” Todd admits in a whisper, making Neil’s heart ache.

He had always wondered what caused Todd to suddenly be transferred to the school for junior year, but he had never anticipated that the story would be that extreme. He had assumed it was possibly some kind of punishment given how miserable Todd was here at the beginning, but he never considered it would have been because it was a way to ship him off to be out of sight and out of mind, to be out of his father’s hair, for it to act as some kind of correctional facility.

“Fuck Mike,” Neil finds himself saying suddenly with a renewed anger behind his voice. “And fuck your dad. Todd, you didn’t deserve any of that. I just- I can’t believe how shitty everyone has been to you up until now.”

It’s silent for a while, so much so that Neil considers that Todd had drifted off to sleep. He supposes getting all of that off your chest would be draining.

“It’s okay,” Todd says after a bit, confirming that he was awake. Neil has his mouth open in order to state all of the ways what his friend just admitted to him was very much not okay before Todd starts speaking again. “Without all of that shit, I would have never met you.”

Neil’s mouth abruptly shuts at that, his chest feeling like it’s practically exploding with fondness at Todd’s statement. He feels tears attempt to race to his eyes at the thought of Todd thinking he was worth going through all of that shit, but he blinks them away.

“I guess my dad wouldn’t have sent me to an all-boys school if he actually knew what happened,” Todd muses after a beat, causing Neil to burst out in a laughter that he tries to quiet immediately after since he didn’t want to get in trouble for being up so late.

Somehow making eye contact with Todd in the dead of night, their eyes lit up by the distant moonlight and their faces teetering on laughter, Neil starts to understand the Todd before Welton, the one who wasn’t as scared to be noticed.

After their giggles die down and the weight of night settles back on top of them, a silence stretches between the boys again. Neil had a lot to think about, a lot to absorb as fact after only knowing a sliver of the truth.

Even though his mind was racing with all of this new information, he still needed to reassure Todd after admitting so much. If Neil felt vulnerable because of the fake scene he played out with him in the forest the other day, he couldn’t even imagine how exposed Todd felt now.

“Todd,” Neil starts to say though he knows he’s close to drifting off to sleep. He doesn’t even want to look at the clock right now. Todd hums out a response so Neil knows he’s listening before he continues. “No matter what happens, I’m always going to be your friend. Really.”

He knows it’s sappy, he knows it’s late, but he needed Todd to understand that Neil still wanted him in his life even if he really did regret their kiss. After all of the shit they’ve been through, Neil couldn’t imagine a life without Todd anymore.

With the quiet, sleepy, and sincere “thank you,” Todd mumbles in response, Neil can’t help but think his friend thinks the same as him.

Slowly but surely, Neil and Todd started talking again. It had only been a few days after Todd’s heavy confession when he nodded at Neil like he usually did before they went off to the cave, and Neil had to practically bite through his tongue to not reveal how excited he was that things were returning back to normal.

After that, they had timidly fallen back into their schedule from before the kiss, going off to the cave every now and then and talking amiably on the way there. They keep their distance, Todd for some reason unbeknownst to Neil, and Neil keeping it since he didn’t want to make his friend uncomfortable. He wanted to kiss him again, but if that’s not what Todd wanted, Neil would happily just sit next to him for the rest of his life - as long as he got to sit closer than everyone else, that is.

Because of this return to their schedule, Neil is puzzled when he’s in the study room and there’s no Todd to be found. It was Tuesday, the day they usually headed off to go work in the cave together, but he figures not even the Poets know where he is given how absorbed they are in their study session already.

Neil attempts to join them, figuring Todd just needed some alone time or something like that, but he can’t focus on his homework at all. The storm which was constantly raging within Neil, though it was still committed to making him hate himself, had taken on a new form over the weeks of silence between him and Todd which manifested in worrying about the other boy almost constantly.

So Todd being missing and unaccounted for only seemed to feed the anxious storm within him. What if Todd was gonna go back to giving him the silent treatment? What if something happened to him? What if his dad somehow sensed what they had done and pulled Todd from Welton?

Packing up his study materials, Neil tells himself that he just needs to know where Todd is in order to calm his mind; he couldn’t focus at this rate anyway. He was probably at their room for some alone time, and Neil would just pretend that he forgot something he needed to grab so he could confirm his suspicions before leaving. It was foolproof.

Once he gets to their room, Neil lets himself in with an excuse already leaving his mouth to give Todd some sort of preamble before bursting through the door. “Sorry, just grabbing my notebook for biology,” he says easily as he enters the room.

His smile drops, however, when he opens the door just to find the room empty. All of Todd’s study materials were gone too, meaning he wasn't just gone for a bathroom break.

He couldn't be making a phone call to his dad since Neil hadn’t seen him at the payphone when he passed it on his way to the room. Had he gone to the cave preemptively and assumed Neil would meet him there? But they usually enjoyed talking while they walked through the forest, so that didn’t seem plausible. Could he be on the rooftop?

After making his way up the stairs and poking his head out of the door which led to the roof, he finds no one there either. Neil feels himself starting to panic when he can’t seem to think of any other place Todd could be.

Did he take his advice from the play and just run away? It seems crazy, but Neil can’t figure any other solution as the storm raged within him and Todd was nowhere in sight.

He practically runs to Keating’s room, figuring he had to notify someone trustworthy if Todd really was M.I.A. Though he should probably knock, Neil lets himself in, raving like a madman trying to explain the situation.

“Sorry to interrupt your time off, Mr. Keating, but I can’t seem to find Todd anywhere and I’m starting to worry that–” he starts rambling before cutting himself off when his eyes land on Todd and Keating in the room, both holding cups of tea at the front of the classroom.

Neil has half a mind to feel embarrassed for being so irrationally scared that Todd split while he sighs in relief, letting out a thankful “oh my god” under his breath as he does so.

“What were you starting to worry about, Mr. Perry?” Keating teases, his eyebrows high and a gleam in his eye. Neil starts to shake his head as he feels his ears heat up, opening his mouth to defend himself before he looks between the two. They both had huge grins on their faces, causing his brow to furrow.

“What’s up? Why are you guys so smiley?” Neil asks before he can remember his manners, figuring he shouldn’t be talking to Mr. Keating so informally.

The two of them share amused looks before Keating nods at Todd, encouraging him. Turning back to Neil, Todd simply says past his bashful smile, “I got in.”

Neil blinks at them blankly for a moment, not registering what they were talking about. Got into what?

But then Neil suddenly remembers the art college they applied to a while ago. He supposes it’s around application acceptance or rejection time for colleges, so he feels his eyes widen at the realization before his face breaks out into a smile matching theirs.

“Oh my god, Todd, you got in!” Neil can’t help but exclaim excitedly, so incredibly happy that his friend proved himself. Hopefully this could finally affirm Todd that he was a talented poet and it wasn’t just something Neil said to flirt with him or get on his good side.

Before he can stop himself, Neil's running over and hugging his friend, Todd putting his tea down and standing up from the desk he was sitting at just in time to receive the hug. They’re laughing together, now in the embrace, and Neil feels like spinning him even though the classroom had so little space to begin with.

He finally lets go after a few seconds, leaning onto the side of a desk next to Todd's with his hands behind his back as he smiles at him. “Believe you’re a good poet now?” he can’t help but tease, his smile inching back onto his face every time he tries to lessen it.

Todd punches him in the shoulder as he rolls his eyes jokingly, obviously still struggling to take credit where it’s due. That’s alright, Neil thinks to himself, hopefully I’ll have plenty of time to convince him of how great he is.

Finally breaking his eyes away from Todd, Neil finds Keating looking at the two of them with a glimmer in his eyes as a knowing smile was stretched across his face. Neil doubted Todd told their teacher much of the spat which had been going on between them, but Keating obviously figured it out himself and was glad to see them back into each other’s good graces.

“Would you like some tea, Neil? We’re celebrating such an accomplishment,” Mr. Keating asks after a beat, lifting up his teapot as if he was raising a glass.

Neil accepts his offer, and the three of them spend the rest of their free time in the classroom talking amiably and celebrating what Todd has achieved. Neil silently wonders when his letter would come in, though he figures it would take a while after Todd’s since he was so late to turning in his application.

Regardless of whatever he ends up getting in his letter, Neil was so proud of Todd. He had put himself out there when he easily could have hidden away, submitted a portfolio of his private poetry, and was validated with an acceptance letter.

It’s a high they ride all the way to lights out, both of them getting into their beds grinning like idiots. Todd usually didn’t like the attention on him, but he was probably too overjoyed at the news to care. Neil liked that look on him, an easy sense of happiness and excitement on his face that settled his expression into a serene smile.

They both knew Todd would never even go to the college, but it was the fact that he could get in if he wanted to. There was a typed letter of proof that he was good enough to pursue the arts if he ever wanted to in the future, and for now that was enough.

Neil had assumed they were on the same page until Todd spoke in the dark that night. “What if I went?” is all he says simply to the air, his tone unreadable.

Knowing how impossible it was, Neil just lets out a chuckle in response to the joke. Hearing Todd huff, though, causes him to quiet down. Was he not joking?

“I’ve always wanted to see the Golden Gate Bridge, y’know?” Todd admits almost dreamily. Was he really getting lost in the premonition that he could go to the college?

“Todd, you know that your parents would never–”

“Neil, could you stop being such a Cameron and let me dream for a minute?” Todd cuts him off, humor in his voice despite what he was saying.

Neil knew they were playing with fire; this moment felt eerily similar to when Todd tried to shut down his dreaming of being in a play last year with reason. It was already a stretch for them to apply to the school, so humoring the idea seemed like the last thing they should be doing.

Despite himself, though, Neil quietly laughs in response to Todd's remark, nodding his head even though he can’t see him with the dark of night enclosing them. “Yeah, you’re right. So, you’re going to see the Golden Gate Bridge on the weekends after classes?” Neil secedes, going along with the dream Todd was outlining for himself since he didn't want to bring the mood down.

“No, I would go a few days before the semester began so I could sightsee. I would want to focus on my studies once classes actually started, so I would want to be familiarized with the area before,” Todd explains, letting on that this was not a spur of the moment dream but rather one he had thought of before.

Neil refuses to let the idea of Todd dreaming for an impossible future make him sad, though, because right now they were in Todd’s fantasy world. Sadness didn’t have a place in this hypothetical dream.

“Would I be there?” Neil asks conspiratorially, hoping he doesn’t sound too desperate.

“Yeah,” Todd says with a smile clear in his voice. “We’d have to be roommates again since rent would be so high, but we’d make it work with scholarships for school and each of us having a job.”

And the idea should sound miserable to Neil, being stuck in a big town after living in a small one his whole life just to be working a job while taking classes for a degree he wasn’t even sure would do anything, but a smile overtakes his face as Todd goes into the description. Just the idea of both of them taking on the city together, somehow making ends meet, finding cool cafes to do their studying, and carrying out errands as simple as doing their laundry together makes Neil unbelievably soft.

They go on like that for a while, one of them pitching an idea for their imaginary life and the other picking up the thought and running with it until they eventually fall asleep. Neil knows it’s stupid, that it’s utterly implausible, but he lets that night be one for dreaming. Reality could wait for later.

Even though Neil knew he should probably keep his dreaming contained to that one night when he and Todd let their imaginations get the better of them, he couldn’t help but keep the same optimism within him for the next few days. Maybe he could get into the college, maybe they could go across the country to pursue their dreams, maybe they could work it out. Todd was talking to him again, so anything seemed to be possible now.

He knows he should shake off these hopes and get his sights focused on Harvard, on medical school, but it’s not like returning to how things used to be was helping Neil to come to grips with reality at all. Conversation flowed easily amongst the Poets now, he and Todd had returned to going to the cave every week, and Todd was reciting poetry to him in the mornings again. Neil finally felt rested for the first time in forever.

Which is why he’s completely blindsided when one of the faculty members intercepts him on his way to the study hall to tell him that he’s expected in the front office. Neil felt his gut drop as he numbly nodded his head to let the informant know that he heard his instructions.

Knowing that the front office usually entailed meeting with Mr. Nolan, Neil stresses about what he could possibly want. Did he find out that the Dead Poets Society meetings were back on? Did he find out about Neil and Todd sneaking away to the cave during free time? Did he find out about the Poets’ unauthorized access to the roof?

Neil tries to calm the worries which churn in his stomach, tries to convince himself that it was probably just about some extracurricular inquiry in order to not look as pale as a ghost by the time he got there. Approaching the front office, though, Neil feels his face drop when he sees his dad through the office windows.

Neil’s not sure whether he should feel relieved or worried that the front desk attendant is gone when he enters, leaving him entirely alone with his dad in the room.

“Hello father, good to see you,” Neil says automatically, spreading a tense smile across his face as he does so. Maybe his dad was here just to visit, to make a friendly change in their biweekly phone calls to make this one in person.

“Hello son,” his father says in a tight voice, his face unreadable. “Do you have anything you want to tell me?” he asks, cutting right to the chase.

And shit, Neil probably should have known that his dad wouldn’t have taken time out of his day to come see him for anything good. He wanted Neil to admit something he had done wrong, but what? He had his many small ways of rebelling, like the meetings or sneaking off to study elsewhere. Or was it because he was getting a low A in pre calc?

“I- I’m not sure, father. Is this something to do with my grades? Because I still have a few weeks to–”

“You don’t know what I’m talking about?” his dad cuts him off angrily, raising his voice as his face contorts to show even more frustration. “Maybe this will jog your memory.”

Suddenly there’s papers in Neil’s hands. Looking down to see what he was just given, he finds an envelope which is already opened next to a piece of folded paper. The address on the envelope says it’s from San Francisco, and Neil only has time to read one line before it’s getting snatched out of his hands again: we are happy to inform you that you have been accepted into…

Oh shit, the art college.

“Can you explain this to me, young man? Can you?” his dad fumes as he waves the papers around. Neil’s still in shock, unable to manage an audible response. “Because it seems to me that you went behind my back and applied to an art school.”

“I was never going to go even if I got in, father,” he says when he finally gets his voice back. “It- it was an exercise to see if Welton had taught me enough to get into all kinds of universities,” Neil attempts to bullshit without becoming a stuttering mess.

“Then why didn’t you tell me about it?” his father challenges, shutting him up. It’s not like he could tell his father even if what he was saying was the truth; he made everything that he didn’t approve of impossible. “Who put you up to this? Your friends? Mr. Keating?” his dad interrogates, making Neil feel like he was going to hyperventilate as he felt his world closing down around him.

“No one did, father! It was all my idea,” Neil finds himself yelling in a panic, not wanting Keating to lose his job or any of his friends to get in trouble because of a mistake as stupid as putting his home address down in the application.

“Do not raise your voice at me, young man!” his dad yells at him now, causing him to back down. Neil’s father never hit him, but it was at times like these that he wishes he would; the way he yells at him feels like a punch to the gut anyway. At least if his dad hit him, he would have physical evidence of the hurt he caused. “I thought military camp would have beaten some sense into you, but I suppose not.”

It’s quiet after that statement, Neil’s father thinking of what to say next while Neil just stands there with the sting. He knew his dad had sent him to the boot camp as a form of punishment, it was no mystery to him, but hearing about what he really wanted out of it from his own mouth still hurt. Shipping him off to a boarding school wasn’t enough; he had to be overworked and out of sight for all of the summer too.

“I’m not going to pull you out of school now; you’re too close to graduation for that,” his father states plainly after some silence. Neil tries not to let the relief show on his face; at least he would have the Poets for a month more. “The second after you graduate though, you bet I’m sending you to military camp right after. You’ll be there until orientation for Harvard.”

Neil’s father’s expression is stern but pleased, probably reveling in the way Neil’s face drops at the decision. He couldn’t go back to that camp again, half starved and sleep deprived for weeks at a time. He couldn’t do it.

“But father–”

“No buts; the decision is final. Unless you want to be pulled from Welton and finish at the closest military school I can find?” his father threatens, shutting him up once again. He takes on a similar demeanor from when his father found out about the play, his face downturned as he shrank in on himself even though he was just as tall as his dad.

After a few more terse words in exchange, his father was leaving with Neil’s acceptance letter and subsequently all of his hopes clad in his hands.

Neil tries his best to act normal for the rest of the day when he returns to the study room, lying and saying he just had to go to the bathroom when they ask about his absence, but it’s hard to not feel the world crashing down around him.

He should have known that wishing for a better life, that dreaming aloud with Todd was only going to result in heartbreak and disaster. Todd had said it best in his poem: I’m chasing the dragon too far.

Laughing hollowly along with his friends at dinner that night, Neil realizes that the time he had left with the Poets was so much shorter than he wanted to believe, that he’d never see them again in less than two months.

He wants to kick and cry and scream, wants to throw a tantrum as if that would make any difference, but instead he goes along with all of their antics like he always does for the rest of the night, not wanting to ruin the few moments they have left together. Staring up at his ceiling as he tried to fall asleep that night, Neil wonders why he ever fooled himself into thinking there was any other outcome besides this.

Stupid. That was the only thing Neil could think, the word repeating over and over in his head. He was stupid for applying to an art college, he was stupid for getting his hopes up, he was stupid for wishing for a life his father hadn’t picked out for him. He should have expected for something like this to happen, and feeling so blindsided only made him feel stupider.

He’s on the rooftop even though it was inching nearer and nearer to dinnertime. He supposes this is where he went now when his father rattled him.

He should be downstairs studying with the Poets, at least trying to act normal and like nothing happened, but he had barely managed to do that yesterday. He felt the unbearable pressure behind his eyes ever since he woke this morning, and he didn’t want to risk crying in front of all of them.

So now he was up on the roof, the air cool and the birds singing and it being an overall lovely spring day while he silently let tears fall down his face. If anyone finds him, he can blame it on allergies.

He’s not sure how long he’s out there by the time he hears the door silently open, the sun gradually finding its rest in the cradle of the trees on the skyline as the blue enveloping Welton slowly eased from yellows to oranges to pinks. Since he opted out of listening to the radio this evening, Neil wipes his face hurriedly when he hears the sound and hopes that his eyes aren’t too puffy.

“Neil?” he hears Todd’s voice ask timidly, his shoulders untensing just the slightest bit. He didn’t want to cry in front of anyone, but he would prefer Todd over the rest of the Poets or Mr. Nolan.

He wants to say a simple “out here” or something along those lines to acknowledge Todd, but he’s too afraid his voice will shake and everything raging in his mind will be written all over his face. So, he just keeps his eyes trained on the spot where the sun had just been, the sky leaving an aggressive red in its wake.

Wordlessly, Todd leaves the doorway and comes to sit beside him much like last semester after Neil’s rough phone call with his dad. The thought almost makes him laugh, how miniscule his issues were a few mere months ago.

What he had feared and bargained his way out of after the play was now his reality. Luckily his dad couldn’t pull him out of school since they were practically a month away from graduating, but that was the extent of Neil’s freedom. Once he walks off that stage with his diploma, he supposes it’ll be walking right into a cage.

“Neil, what’s wrong?” Todd asks with panic and urgency clear in his voice, most likely figuring he had been crying just by looking at him. He can’t bear to face him since seeing Todd distressed would only make him cry more.

Neil wordlessly shakes his head, hoping that motion is enough to shrug off all of Todd’s concerns and worries. He supposes he’ll actually have to talk for that, though.

“‘S nothing,” is all he manages to get out, his voice small but even enough. It really was nothing; it’s not like his life was changing by much. He was just getting hurtled into his future faster than he had predicted.

“It’s clearly not nothing,” Todd laments almost petulantly, his tone firm yet prying. With all of his time knowing Todd, Neil should have known that he wouldn’t be one to let something like this slide. Sure, maybe Charlie and them would be uncomfortable enough to buy whatever lies Neil spewed, but now that he’s broken through Todd’s shell, his friend wouldn’t back down so easily now.

Although he knows better, Neil can’t help but let his head rest on Todd’s shoulder. He was just so tired. He had finally won Todd back over after basically a month of panic, had wrestled with his conflicting feelings about his friend for the better part of the whole semester, and now he had to deal with his dad. He just felt completely and utterly depleted.

Even though they still didn’t know what they were, Todd allows him to rest his head with no qualms, going stiff upon the touch but not voicing any protest.

“Neil… Why have you been crying?” Todd asks gently after a lengthy gap of silence, only their breaths and the tweeting of birds filling the dusk air.

And shit, like he figured, Todd had noticed. He supposed if anyone was going to figure out that he was crying, it would be Todd.

Neil just lets out a sigh, not realizing how much he had been holding his breath until he does so. How could he tell him that he made the dumbest mistake of his life without losing Todd completely?

“I… I was stupid,” is all he can manage to say. Despite the comfort he provided, Todd was now pulling back so Neil couldn’t lean on his shoulder anymore. Todd wanted to look him in the eye, making this moment so much harder for him.

“You’re not stupid,” Todd says automatically, the concern in his voice only heightened.

“I still made a stupid mistake,” Neil counters, not really sure why he’s so bent on convincing his friend that he’s actually a lot worse than what he believed. Was he subconsciously distancing himself from his friends, preparing to separate from everyone he loved in order to protect himself?

“I do shit like that all of the time. Like shutting you out for no reason,” Todd reassures, being vulnerable somehow even while Neil was trying to convince him to get rid of him as a friend.

Not being able to take it anymore, Neil just admits what he did. “My dad found out that I applied to the art school.”

Just saying what happened out loud makes him feel like all of the oxygen has been sucked out of the air, like he’s been placed in a vacuum where everything is still. Because, really, his life was over. There was no way to fantasize about getting out of it now.

“What happened?” Todd asks again, his face unreadable even with the concerned crease of his brow.

“Like I said, I was stupid. For some reason I wasn’t thinking and just put my address down in the application. It never even occurred to me that I should have used someone else’s so that my parents wouldn’t see whenever the college responded,” he admits as he shrinks in on himself, feeling so dumb and naive for making a mistake like this, much less having to confess it all to Todd now.

“Neil, it’s not your fault. It’s not like we’re supposed to be put in situations where we have to hide stuff like this,” Todd reassures quickly after Neil’s admittance, not wanting to let his shame extend for any longer than it already has.

Despite his affirming words, Neil still can’t help but hate himself for not only making the mistake he did, but also for getting his hopes up in the first place. What did it matter that he got in? Now he knows that he’s locked away from a life that was actually possible.

A lot of time passes before Todd speaks again, the sky a grayish yellow when he does. Surely their window for dinner had passed by now.

“Did you get in?” Todd asks quietly, as if it matters.

“Yeah, I did,” Neil replies through a wet chuckle, the irony of it all dawning on him.

Surveying his friend’s face, Neil sees it go through a range of emotions. He seems to feel the same excitement they had the other night when Todd got in, which crescendos into anger and sadness at the realization that it doesn’t matter. Finally, his face settles on a thinking expression, his brows knotting together and his mouth setting in a line.

“I- I know how hypocritical this sounds,” Todd begins to say some time later in a conflicted voice, “but you need to stand up to your dad. You- I think you'll regret it for the rest of your life if you don’t.”

“What’s the point?” Neil can’t help himself from asking. “It’s not like my play. You said it yourself, we can’t just run away and expect all of our problems to go away.”

It’s silent after that. Maybe he went too far, maybe it was a low blow to throw Todd’s words that he said out of fear before back into his face. But it was the truth; standing up to his dad wouldn’t do anything to prevent the life he was destined to live.

Neil thought Todd finally realized as much, but then barely above the sound of the chattering birds, Neil hears him breathe out a simple question of “why not?”

And, really, why not? Why couldn’t they run away? It was simple enough for David and William on paper. They already had a potential destination if they were to do it, the college being in San Francisco. It would just be a matter of getting on a Greyhound bus.

Of course it wasn’t that simple, though. Even with as rich as Todd was, they would have no money if they decided to run away. They wouldn’t even have a way to pay for college or a place to stay over there, much less the money to buy bus tickets. 

It was a totally idiotic idea, one that he and Todd couldn’t help but come back to over and over again as if they were circling a drain. When would they be pulled under by reality? Neil knew the time was soon, but he wanted to put it off as long as possible.

So the two of them are silent for the rest of the evening, the radio remaining untouched as they watched the sky blot out and stars start to weakly gleam in its wake, the birds slowly quieting down to make way for the crickets. There was so much and so little to say at the same time, all of it not good, so they opt to let anything else fill the air instead.

Chapter Text

The sudden flash of the camera causes Neil to blink his eyes rapidly, his pupils trying to acclimate to the abrupt brightness just for it to disappear moments later. No matter how many pictures they took this afternoon, Neil’s not sure if he’d ever get used to the flash.

The Poets were dressed in their best suits, their uniforms ironed, their ties straightened, and their hair styled until it was perfect. It was dangerously close to the end of the school year, so Welton was having their class of ‘61 take photos so they could put it up right next to the pictures Mr. Keating pointed out to them on their first day of junior year. Soon, they too would be the nameless faces which inspired carpe diem.

Neil hadn’t thought that the pictures would take so long, – he figured Welton was the type of school to just snap a satisfactory photo before dismissing them to go back to their extracurriculars – but they were well into half an hour of smiling grimly in front of the photographer by now and there was still no end in sight. They kept switching locations and positions, figuring having a variety of pictures was better than only one where a poor student’s legacy would become the boy who blinked for the photo.

Neil supposed he should feel proud in this moment; he had essentially survived all of the horrors Welton had thrown at him and was now on track to graduate soon with a perfect GPA. But even with such an accomplishment, even with how much he desperately wanted to escape Hellton, he couldn’t help but also pathetically grip onto the school as if it’d save him from his inevitable fate.

As horrible and strict as the school was, at least he had the Poets here and their society meetings, at least he had Keating and his boisterous lessons, at least he had Todd and his profound poems here. While everyone else was itching to throw their graduation caps off, – even Charlie had come around to the idea – Neil couldn't help but cling onto the predictability of the school’s schedule.

But then again, these were rather grim thoughts to be thinking when taking photos which would immortalize his legacy within the Welton halls. At this rate, he would be the only student frowning with a creased brow on the school’s walls.

Needing something, anything to distract him from the dark line of thinking he fell into more often than not now that his dad had sealed his fate, Neil feels relieved when the photographer motions for them to switch locations once again. Everyone else lets out a small groan since this meant at least ten more minutes of posing in stiff uniforms, but none of that mattered as long as Neil could keep his mind from racing over how Welton is most likely the last place he’ll ever be happy – ironic, he knows.

On their trudge over to the next spot, Neil gives a swift glance around to make sure no administration is looking before launching himself onto Charlie’s back. His friend lets out a staggered exclamation of surprise, letting out a brief “what the–” before cutting himself off since he didn’t want to garner any attention to Neil’s antics and potentially get them in trouble.

Ever since he was hit with the weight that he’d basically be on lockdown for the next ten years of his life, Neil had started acting out more and more in the last month of school. Never anything that would actually get him in trouble, but just actions which caused the Poets to view him as more jittery and unpredictable than usual, like how he's clinging onto Charlie’s back now with no warning just for the sake of it.

Only Todd knew the truth of what awaited Neil after graduation, military camp followed with a decade of medical school, so the understanding of Neil’s irrational actions was limited to him. Neil found that if he sat too still for too long, the world felt like it was ending, so he just kept moving.

“Remind you of anything?” Neil asks Charlie in a joking tone, trying to push his self-aware thoughts out of his mind as he does so.

“You mean the time you made us lose the piggyback race and almost cost us a grade in Keating’s class?” Charlie snarks back, holding Neil’s legs up so he can keep piggyback riding despite pretending to act annoyed. No matter how irrational Neil's seemed to be, the Poets never had any questions and just went along with it, which he figured was a true sign of friendship.

“You know Keating wouldn’t have the gall to fail us,” Knox chimes in, inserting himself into the conversation as he strides next to them with his hands in his pockets.

Figuring he didn’t want to ruin Charlie’s wrinkleless uniform or his carefully gelled hair in case this next picture was the one the school went with, Neil dismounts from his friend’s back and returns to walking with the Poets again.

“I don’t know,” Meeks contemplates. “I think he was just lucky that you guys were the slowest. Pretty much everyone else in the class would have let their partner take the fall for the grade.”

After his statement, all eyes land on Cameron who is oblivious to the conversation until he looks at them, brows furrowed. “What? What did I miss?”

The rest of the Poets burst out laughing at that, not letting Cam in on the joke since that would only serve to make him more upset. While Neil wasn’t too sure how much Meeks’ statement applied to the rest of them, he still knew that Cameron would be the one of the Poets to trade in any of them for a good grade if it came down to it.

When they had started walking to another location for a picture, Neil didn’t think it’d be on the complete opposite side of the school, but they were still trekking over there minutes later in the slightly warm air. He was just thankful that it wasn’t muddy out today given how much it’s been raining recently, April showers bringing May flowers or however the saying went.

Looking over at Todd who was huffing from their lengthy walk, Neil tries his best to not feel the same deep pang in his gut that he’d been feeling ever since they became friends again. Although Neil now knows why he startled away after the kiss, although he knew more about Todd now than he ever has, he still has no clue as to why the other boy ignored him for as long as he did. All of what he knows still doesn’t explain how frustrated Todd was when Neil chased him down to talk, doesn’t explain why he was so cynical when Neil tried to play into the very idea of running away together Todd always joked about.

Neil knew he should have never given into the fantasies of what his and Todd’s lives could be if their parents were different. He couldn’t help but feel like Lennie every time he looked over at his friend, like he was stupid enough to believe in pleasant lies just to be too distracted to notice the gun at the back of his head. The gun had always been there, he should have known that, and it was his fault that it finally went off.

Neil felt his breathing shorten at these dark thoughts, his mind spiraling the same way it had done over and over again since his dad found his acceptance letter. He couldn’t afford to spiral now, not in front of his whole class in the broad daylight, not when they had more pictures to take.

Without thinking, Neil suddenly jumps onto Todd’s back now, causing the other boy to make a muted surprised sound while he staggers for a moment. Once the moment passes, though, Todd keeps walking on while holding Neil’s legs as if nothing had happened.

It shouldn’t make his lungs swell as much as they do since Todd was probably expecting something of the sort after seeing Neil’s previous attack on Charlie, but he still can’t help but get hung up on how unphased Todd was at what he presumed to be unpredictable movements.

Trying to distract his thoughts, Neil keeps pestering him for the rest of the way there, which Todd deals with uncannily well. Despite how odd they were being, no one pays them any mind, figuring that it was just Neil and Todd being Neil and Todd.

Once they’re finally on the other side of Welton, Neil jumps off to give Todd a break, hoping he didn’t ruffle his hair or uniform too much in the process. While he’s worrying over that, a displaced strand of hair falls across his forehead, to which he pushes it back. He supposed that he had been so concerned about his friends’ appearances that he forgot that he was messing his up in the process.

“Your hair’s longer. It looks nice,” Todd says simply as Neil pushes the stray strand back in place, the statement throwing him back to their first day back from winter break when Todd had said the same thing.

Suddenly, Neil bursts into a laughter he tries to tamper down since he wasn’t really in the mood for the photographer to yell at him. Todd looks flustered, though, so he tries to reassure him as he quells his outburst.

“Sorry Todd, it’s just, I’ve never had someone notice my hair as much as you,” he chuckles out, as humored as he was giddy at the thought of Todd observing him so closely.

“Well, they should,” Todd huffs defensively in response after a few beats, crossing his arms and turning away after the assertion.

He wants to make a cutting statement despite the sweet moment, something about how he could say goodbye to his long hair since it was about to be buzzed by the military school again soon, but Neil bites his tongue. Just because his world was crumbling around him didn’t mean that he should take his frustrations out on Todd.

Instead, he focuses on the fond feeling taking over his lungs at how endearing Todd was being. Before Neil can go on teasing to increase the pink color taking up Todd’s face, the photographer is yelling as he tries to corral the students for another picture.

Despite how disheveled he must look in those pictures, Neil silently hopes these are the ones Welton goes with given how genuine his smile felt in reaction to how red Todd’s cheeks were. He wouldn’t mind that being his legacy at all.

Although Neil was now forbidden by his father to leave the Welton campus for practically any reason, today was the rare case where he had an excuse since it was career day. Essentially, it was a day where the school arranged for the students to be grouped according to what job they planned to have in the future, and from there they were then sent to their career's place of work for the day to see how their occupations functioned in the real world. So, Neil was shipped off in the bus with all of the other seniors who were thinking about doing anything remotely in the medical field.

On the way there, Neil couldn’t help but imagine how fun this day would be if he was able to go and see the job he actually wanted. If his father was more understanding, Neil could’ve been on his way to a local theater, maybe even Broadway, to talk with interesting people who were living the life he dreamed of. But no, he was stuck on a bus going to the closest hospital instead.

Shaking his head to himself, Neil wonders how long it would take for him to kick his nasty habit of imagining a better life than the one he had at any given moment. It’s what made his dad finding his acceptance letter so brutal, but he still couldn’t help but wistfully think of any other place he could be right now than in this jerky bus. It was idiotic to say the least.

Filing out of the vehicle once they arrive and shuffling through the halls of the hospital with a handful of his classmates along with a chaperone, Neil’s disappointed that he was the only one of the Poets going into the medical field. Having someone here to distract him from the sterilized air and the sound of distant crying would be nice right now.

He knows Knox and Todd are at least together for law related careers, though he’s not too sure how their one-on-one dynamic would pad out. He’s sure they were still having more fun than him, though, since Knox is agreeable and able to fill up silence when needed.

Last night, both he and Todd spoke since they were struggling to fall asleep with the field trip in their minds. Though they hardly ever discussed it, Todd mentioned his parents’ plans of making him be a patent attorney just like his older brother. Neil didn’t even know that was a job before being friends with him, and he soon discovered that was because it sounded like the most boring occupation in the world.

At first he thought it could be a fun career if he got to represent new inventions to try to get patents for them, but Todd quickly dismissed those optimistic thoughts as he lamented how much of a business-focused job it was. Even in those rare cases, Todd would most likely not even get to meet with the inventor or see the invention, just be sent the paperwork to deal with all of the legal complications. It sounded entirely soulless and possibly like the worst fit for Todd out of any job out there.

He has little time to worry about that, though, as their group is corralled into a staggered seating area made especially for observing surgeries. From what Neil understood, Welton had arranged for them to observe a live surgery today along with other various areas of the hospital so they could get a feel for what was coming in their futures.

The closer the time got to the scheduled surgery, the more nervous Neil became, which resulted in him attempting to reassure himself more and more. Being a doctor was an ideal career, after all; it was a job that never got boring because different cases come in all of the time, and he would be able to meet all kinds of people and help them while making a lot of money. And if he didn’t like how fast-paced the hospital was, he could work at a local practice. It would be great.

All of Neil’s positive thoughts about his future fall away, however, whenever the surgery finally starts. It’s not even that it’s all that gruesome, – it’s just a standard appendix removal – but the clinical cuts leaving seeping blood and flabs of flesh behind that the surgeon pulls apart to look at the patient's insides makes Neil sick immediately.

The whole procedure was way more uncivilized than he could have ever anticipated, the surgeon’s gloved finger pushing into the pulpy mess and fishing it around until he found what he was looking for. From what Neil understood, this was just a run-of-the-mill procedure to prevent appendicitis, so he expected a straightforward and even boring surgery. If this was one of the tamest and most routine operations, he didn’t want to imagine what something like a kidney transplant looked like.

Miraculously, Neil doesn’t lose his breakfast watching the removal. Sneaking a look over to the rest of the classmates on the trip with him, Neil’s surprised to find all of them looking cool and collected. Was he truly not made for this? He wished someone normal like Todd was here to confirm the fact that what he just witnessed was nauseating and insane, but then again, he was glad that his friend was spared from the traumatizing imagery.

Once the surgery is completed and the doctor answers whatever questions the group had after the procedure, they are then ushered off to another wing of the hospital. Neil was thankful for the change of scenery from the surgeon’s bloodied apron, but then he started to regret ever leaving that calm room as practitioners raced around their group, making him feel in the way.

They were now in the ER, and here people seemed to be the worst off. While some patients were sitting in various states of severity, some looking completely normal while others were cradling bloodied rags wrapped around appendages, Neil was helpless to just stand there and observe them as if they were zoo animals. It made him feel sick, the way these people’s miseries were being used as a kind of educational lesson for him.

He’s particularly haunted by one image which would be ingrained into his mind forever now: a mom holding a baby that wouldn’t stop crying just a few seats away from a mother holding a baby which was all too still.

After that, the rest of the day is a blur, Neil following the group mindlessly as they were pulled and hauled around the building to witness more and more. It felt almost like those haunted houses he’d always heard about, tragedies and discomfort meeting him around every corner as if to scare him. Even when the hospital was quiet, Neil could always hear a faint sound, whether that be crying, retching, screaming, or something in between.

On the way back to the school hours later, Neil wonders if everyone else saw and heard the same scenes as him since the rest of the students still seemed so unaffected. Hell, most of them were amiably chatting on the bus ride back while he never wanted to talk again. Neil knew to expect for the experience to be pretty hectic since it was a big hospital, but nothing could have prepared him for the cacophony he was met with.

Though he expects to be back to normal once he’s returned to the school and reunited with the Poets, Neil is surprised to find that the sick feeling which entrenched him at the hospital followed him back to Welton. He can hardly eat dinner, the red meatiness of the marinara sauce in his spaghetti reminding him of the surgery too much for his stomach to settle down. The jello does nothing to help his jogged memory either.

Along with his hollow stomach, Neil finds himself staring up at the ceiling later that night, too afraid to close his eyes since it only welcomed back the unsettling scenes he saw earlier in the day. Surely that woman’s baby couldn’t have been dead, just sleeping, right?

He’s so desperate to take his mind off of the haunting images that seem to reside behind his lids that he’s willing to break the delicate silence between him and Todd. Who cares if things were still a bit odd and uncertain between them? He needed his friend right now.

“Todd?” he asks quietly, hoping that he’s still awake but not wanting to disturb him if otherwise. It’d only been ten or so minutes since the lights went off, but he wasn’t sure if career day had been exhausting for his friend or not.

“Hmm?” Todd sleepily hums back to let him know that he was still conscious.

“How was your career day?” Neil asks before he can think about how lame the question was. Despite how much the Poets touch on the subject of their futures outside of Welton, the conversation at dinner weirdly strayed away from any discussion over their respective career days. Maybe Neil wasn’t alone in his absolute dread for his future.

“I don’t know,” Todd mumbles after a few seconds, seeming to have no concrete thoughts to voice on the subject. “It was alright, I guess. What about yours?”

Neil’s not sure if Todd was lying or not; maybe he really was okay with the prospect of being a patent lawyer. No matter how much Neil wanted to take on the same nonchalant demeanor his friend had over the whole subject, he can’t bring himself to lie.

“I don’t think I can be a doctor,” is all he answers a few beats after the question, being glaringly vulnerable. He knew that his life was already planned out for him, that there was no choice besides being a doctor now more than ever since his dad was back in the reins, but that only filled him with more panic today.

Before, he could entertain the idea that the job wasn’t the worst one to be fated to, that being a doctor was ultimately a wise choice on his father’s part. But now, all attempts at reassurance over the career fall flat on their face the second Neil thinks of any of the harrowing images he was subjected to today. Maybe it was just a bad day in the hospital, but he didn’t think he should be trying to get a job that he couldn’t handle the worst of in the first place.

“Yeah, me either,” is all Todd responds with after a gap of silence. So saying that his career day was “alright” had been a lie after all. It makes Neil want to laugh, thinking about how both of them were so completely trapped in lives that were such ill fits for them, but the irony hurts more than anything.

Neil had never taken the idea of running away that seriously; it had started out as a joke that Todd threw around which he decided to play into. And sure, he imagined him and Todd running away in his play and entertained the idea before, but he wasn’t even sure if David and William got a good ending. He wanted to leave it up for interpretation because there had always been a sense of impossibility inevitably laced within those ideas of running away and avoiding all of their problems.

Although Neil’s been trying to avoid entertaining the idea ever since he was caught applying to the art school, he can’t help but imagine running away as he keeps startling his eyes back open to avoid seeing the doctor’s bloodied apron. He would never escape his fate, he knew that now, but he still wondered why it had to be so cruel.

Though he and Todd don’t say anything for the rest of the night, Neil wonders if his friend was following the same line of thinking. Todd had been the one who had written about ideas like running away for the longest, so Neil couldn’t help but wonder if that was merely a literary crutch, a coping mechanism, or an actual dream within his friend. Not that it mattered anyway.

It was pitch black in their room, and Neil was awake. Blinking slowly before blearily reading his clock to discover that it’s three in the morning, Neil wonders why he’s awake now rather than following his usual 6 a.m. schedule.

He doesn’t have to wonder long, however, because a few seconds later he hears panicked gasps on the other side of the room along with unintelligible mumbling. Right, Todd.

Todd had recently been dealing with what appeared to be nightmares if his frightened murmurs and ragged breathing were anything to go by, and Neil felt completely helpless as he woke up only to witness his friend’s distress. The night terrors started when they weren’t on speaking terms, and it had taken everything Neil had in him back then to not shake Todd awake to tell him everything was alright.

Now, though, Neil felt paralyzed in his bed despite their repaired friendship. Of course he wanted to help Todd, but he also didn’t know what they were exactly, didn’t know if he would be infringing on any unspoken boundaries by interfering.

Usually, Todd would just sleep off the nightmares after a few minutes, so failing to wake him didn’t feel like a horrifically cruel act to Neil. But Todd’s nightmare tonight just won’t seem to let up, his labored breathing and concerned murmurs persisting no matter how long the clock ticked.

Neil knew he had complex feelings for Todd no matter how much he wrestled with it, but his resolute urge to protect his friend was not complicated now. Lying to himself that he’s only doing this so he can go back to sleep, Neil manages to muster the courage he needs to slide out of his bed and pad over to stand above Todd.

“Todd,” he sleepily mumbles as he shakes his shoulder like he does every morning for poetry, only now there was an underlying sense of urgency, “you’re okay. No one’s gonna hurt you.”

It takes a few more seconds of shaking his shoulder until Todd’s eyes snap open, darting around and taking in the dark room as panic coats his face. Finally, he calms down as his gaze settles on Neil.

“Neil?” his sleepy voice rasps as if that’s a question in of itself. At some point, Todd had grabbed onto his wrist, and Neil was overly aware of it as he looked down at his friend, his lungs swelling like they always did from even the slightest of skin contact with Todd.

“You had a nightmare, ‘s all. You’re safe now,” Neil reassures, knowing what it feels like to wake up gasping and searching your surroundings for some familiarity after a night terror.

Todd nods his head although he was still catching up, his mind probably sleepy and discombobulated. Neil lets him take as long as he needs to calm down and release his wrist, ignoring his urge to wrap him up with his blankets and assure him that he’d never let anything bad happen to him – that would be too far, he knows that much.

When Todd finally lets go, Neil reluctantly turns away and starts to return to his bed before he hears an unintelligible high note emit from Todd’s throat. Turning back, he looks and waits for Todd to express what he was trying to say.

“Can you-” he starts to say before cutting himself off, remaining self conscious no matter how sleepy or disheveled he was. “Can you stay? Just for tonight?”

Without question, Neil returns to his side so Todd can go on holding his wrist until he falls back asleep. Although it was odd that he’d have to stay standing for an indefinite amount of time, it felt fair given all of the early mornings he inconvenienced Todd to help him fall back asleep.

The way Todd held his wrist humored his sluggish mind, thinking about how it represented them in a way. Of course Todd couldn’t hold his hand, that would be too overt, but of course he also couldn’t let go of his wrist, keeping them connected despite it all. It was so persistent in a noncommittal way.

Todd reattaches himself to Neil’s wrist like he expected, but Neil feels surprise take over him as the other boy tugs him gently. Wordlessly, Neil understands what he wants, what either of them can’t manage to say out loud.

So Neil slides into Todd’s bed, the area feeling so foreign even though it was exactly like his own, just another lumpy Welton mattress. They were way too old to be cramming into a twin size bed as if they were little kids, but Neil doesn’t voice any protest since it presses them closer together so he won’t fall off the bed.

As if hearing his thoughts, Todd’s hands wrap around Neil’s back to tether him there, to make sure he’ll stay on the small mattress. Weirdly enough, it makes him think of the trust exercise in Keating’s class a few weeks ago, how stressed he was for no reason since Todd was always going to catch him.

Because, really, Todd always did have his back. Even when Neil felt inconsolably alone like after his phone calls with his dad or when he was first writing his play just for himself, Todd was always there. And Neil always had Todd’s back too, being there to take his mind off of his phone calls with his father or to reassure him that his poetry was far better than he thought.

Figuring they were already going this far, Neil decides to give into his urges before he can overthink it, reaching up and gently playing with Todd’s hair between his fingers the way he always imagined he would – he could always blame this on being sleepy if any questions arose the next morning. He had always jokingly mussed up Todd’s hair just to get a rise out of him, but it feels different now in their dark and silent room, softer and more comforting.

Rather than startling away from the touch like Neil figured he would, Todd almost leans into the gesture as he closes his eyes, seeming soothed by the contact. Neil’s struggling to breathe at this point, Todd wrapped all around him and serene in his hands.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Neil asks barely above a whisper, always afraid of bursting whatever bubbles they formed around themselves but still wanting to make sure Todd was okay.

Todd shakes his head, causing Neil’s hand to migrate to a new section of hair to sift his fingers through. “No; I’m okay now.”

Neil tries to quell the joy and fondness which attempts to climb up his throat at the insinuation that his presence was enough to soothe Todd from whatever horrors caused him to be restless before. Rather than saying anything which would inevitably be inadequate to represent how he felt in this moment, Neil opts to stay quiet as he keeps sleepily playing with Todd’s hair instead.

Neil’s not sure how long they’re like that, just wrapped around one another and taking each other’s presence in, because the next time he opens his eyes, their alarms are ringing. Todd’s hold on him is looser now and Neil’s hand was just on top of his head rather than threaded through his hair as they both blink awake.

In any other circumstance, Neil would have probably startled away and fallen back onto the floor, but he felt like he had just blinked and the sunlight was suddenly pouring through their window rather than moonlight. Turning his head to look at the clock, he’s perplexed when he reads that it’s 7 a.m.

“It’s seven?” Neil asks as if that will answer anything.

“You didn’t wake up at six,” Todd supplies to the air, voicing the reason why Neil was so confused.

“I guess I didn’t,” Neil takes a second to confirm before turning to look back at Todd, a smile stretched across his face matching the one on the other boy’s. Maybe Todd was his solution all along.

Although they have to untangle their limbs and get ready for the day, – Welton didn’t let up on their intense classes no matter how close they were to graduation – Neil wishes he could just keep his hand on top of Todd’s head forever, the other boy’s hands always wrapped around him. He knows it’s not much to wish for, but it was still so impossible all the same.

Frozen in place, Neil’s stuck looking at the thick stack of papers in his hands, almost afraid to leaf through them now that he’s added the scene he just finished writing to the pile. He had completed it; he’d finally finished his play.

Neil’s not sure how long he’s sat simply blinking at his completed work before Todd breaks whatever limbo he found himself in. “Why are you so… still?” Todd asks with a slight sound of amusement in his voice, abandoning the formalities they used to put on before.

So many of the silent barriers they had between them before were suddenly shed in the last week or so, and Neil couldn’t tell if it was because they had so little time left together or if it’s because there was something new between them.

Because now something was undeniably going on between them. Neil still wasn’t sure what, but he suspected that their now-nightly routine of cuddling up in one of their beds has catapulted them from the simple title of friends into something more serious.

Their excuse for sleeping next to one another night after night was that it saved them sleep; this way, Neil didn’t have to wake Todd up for him to either recite poetry or calm him down since resting in the same bed caused them to sleep through the night without interruption. Even as logical as it was, Neil knew that cuddling your best friend night after night was not normal; the storm in his mind was sure to not let him forget that.

Even though it’s warmer out now and there’s no need for it, Neil still sits next to Todd, obnoxiously leaning in his space more often than not for little to no reason. He supposed that he wanted to take in the other boy as much as he could before graduation came, subconsciously preparing to be ripped away from him.

But that didn’t matter, at least not right now, because he’s finished his play. “I’m done,” is all he’s able to say as he stays frozen, staring at the papers in his hands as if they’d disintegrate the second he looked away, as if he hadn’t been spending his entire senior year working tirelessly to finish it.

Todd’s silent for a moment, looking between Neil and the play as he tries to figure out just what he was trying to say. “What are you going to do with it?” Todd asks when he finally puts two and two together, bringing the question to Neil’s attention for the first time ever. What was he going to do now that he was done?

“I don’t know,” he supplies after a few moments. “I never thought I’d get this far.”

“Well,” Todd says after a few beats, seeming to be thinking of an answer to his question too. “I’m sure there are places you could send it in to.”

Neil’s fully pulled out of his stupefied trance at that comment, scoffing and rolling his eyes at what Todd had just insinuated. “Yeah, I’m sure theaters everywhere are dying to get their hands on a badly written script by a teenager.”

“Hey, I’m serious,” Todd laments, a small smile on his face from Neil’s comment despite trying to come off as firm. “You know that I wouldn’t- I wouldn’t just tell you to do something like that if I didn’t believe that what you wrote is special.”

“Hmm, this sounds familiar for some reason,” Neil jokes after Todd’s confession, referring back to when he encouraged his friend to read his own poems at the society meetings.

Todd, despite trying to be serious, gives in again and laughs. “Yeah, well, I listened to you, alright? And that panned out for me,” he adds on once he’s gotten control of his face again.

“Okay, okay,” Neil concedes with his hands up in surrender. “How about this, I’ll send my play in as soon as you submit your poetry to some literary magazines. Sound like a deal?”

“No, that does not sound like a deal,” Todd immediately opposes, causing Neil to laugh at his distress. “I already did what you asked me to do!”

“Well, now I’m the one with the playing cards,” he counters, trying to replicate the cockiness Charlie so often wore. Neil fears his fond smile is giving his resolve away, though.

“Oh, is that how it is?” Todd asks in faux-disbelief, his voice quiet and his eyebrows high in question with a smile threatening to take over his face.

“Yeah,” is all Neil can manage to say now, their faces a lot closer than he realized before. A charged moment passes between them, both of Neil and Todd looking into one another’s eyes but withdrawing quickly once their gazes travel down to the other’s lips subconsciously before snapping up again.

A silence drapes over them now, but it’s uncomfortable unlike casual quiet which so often fills the air between them. Ever since Todd confessed why he truly transferred to Welton, Neil wasn’t sure how to carry himself around the other boy, wasn’t sure what was okay and what was too far.

Like Neil had said, he was always going to be Todd’s friend no matter what happens. Todd seemed content with that promise, so he didn’t want to push anything past that clear line.

Neil had fought so hard for them, but that’s simply because he knew Todd was someone he wanted to know for the rest of his life, not just for one or two years in high school. Now that he finally had Todd back, though not in the way he wanted, he found it hard to fight anymore. After all, how could Neil fight for something more with Todd when he knew that insisting on such things only cursed the both of them?

So things were often left unsaid between them, like their close proximity in the cave or the way they now slept wrapped around one another. Like the mornings he would wake Todd to recite poetry for him, Neil was afraid of bursting a bubble he never wanted to leave, especially with how little time they had left.

But then again, their limited time was even more reason for them to figure their shit out now. Neil couldn’t live the rest of his life in medical school wondering if he could have kissed Todd again. He was okay with being his friend for the rest of his life if that’s what Todd wanted, but Neil wasn’t going to let them graduate with everything they wanted to say left buried under bitten tongues in awkward moments like this when they would almost kiss.

“Todd, we really need to talk about whatever it is that’s–”

“No, we don’t, actually,” Todd cuts him off in a voice quieter than usual, his body turned away from Neil’s as the jovial mood from before is now nowhere to be seen.

“Todd, we’re about to graduate, and then who knows when we’ll be able to see each other again? Do you want to leave without talking about any of it?” Neil pushes through his fears and implores, feeling like he’s scooping out his insides just for Todd to judge them. He knew it wouldn’t be an easy subject to talk about in any circumstance, their degeneracy, but the vehemence Todd is meeting the conversation with now is not something he could have ever predicted given all of the poems he thought were pointed at him.

“Wh-what is there to talk about?” Todd asks defensively as he starts to pack up his stuff. It was getting close to when they should be heading back to Welton, but Neil still can’t help but feel panic swelling up within him all the same, memories flashing to when Todd went running out of the cave without offering so much as an explanation.

Neil opens his mouth to speak, to slow his friend from his retreat, but nothing comes out. He’s stuck watching Todd pack his notebook and books into his bag hurriedly just like he always seems to be.

Right as Todd shoves in his last book, though, a few things flutter out of the pages and onto the ground. Neil’s not sure what fell out, has to lean over and look before Todd snatches up the small debris and presses it back into the novel.

Todd’s not fast enough, though, because Neil sees the tell-tale shade of yellow he could never forget; they were the wildflowers he picked for Todd last semester.

“You still have the flowers I picked for you?” Neil asks almost rhetorically, so in shock at the discovery that the question falls out of his mouth without much thought. He wasn’t even sure how Todd had preserved them so well – they look squished to be completely flat or something like that to keep their color.

“I-I-I just like the flower, yeah?” Todd refutes defensively although Neil hadn’t accused him of anything past keeping the flower. Despite feeling so vulnerable before, the flowers give Neil the confidence he needs to keep pushing.

“Todd, we need to talk about the kiss–” Neil starts earnestly before he’s cut off once again.

“It was nothing!” Todd yells suddenly, startling Neil into silence. His face is red and panicky as he continues speaking. “I-I don’t know what idea you got into your head that I- I don’t know, liked you or something, but that is not–”

“I read your poem,” Neil cuts off Todd now, not being able to bear him denying something which was so significant to him. Just the way Todd had said “liked” in that baffled tone felt like a gut punch to him, a feeling Neil wanted to throw back to the other now.

The sudden interjection stuns his friend into silence for a few beats, causing him to goldfish before finding his voice once again. “Wh-what do you mean ‘you read my poem?’ You read my poems all the time.”

“After we kissed, you rushed out of here, but you accidentally left a paper behind. I-I didn’t mean to read the poem on it, but I guess that doesn’t matter since I did it anyway,” Neil starts confessing, the words immediately causing Todd to pale.

“So that’s where that poem went,” is all Todd says after a short silence, neither confirming or denying what the poem was about.

And really, the poem was folded up into the smallest square possible and stored within one of the notebooks Neil had already filled up with notes for class. He’s been too afraid of looking at the poem since the day Todd left him in the cave, too afraid that rereading the piece would cause the meaning to jump out at him in an unforgiving way. He’s been haunted by the rushed and repeated scribbles of “I’m so sorry” ever since, never understanding what Todd was sorry for, much less how to forgive him.

“Why-” Neil starts before cutting himself off, not sure how he wanted to word what he was about to say, not sure if he wanted to presume the poem was about him. But then he remembers the line which kept popping up throughout the piece: I’m in the way of you. “Why do you feel like you’re in my way?”

Todd immediately shakes his head in response, a rueful smile on his face as he scoffs in disbelief. “Now you’re just making fun of me.”

“I’m not! I- I know it’s a lot to assume that the poem is about me, but I have no idea why you would ever think you're in my way if it really is,” Neil rushes to defend, trying to establish how sincere he's being in trying to understand the poem he found what seems like forever ago.

Even with Todd’s explanation of what happened at his last school, that only helped Neil understand why he darted away after their initial embrace. Neil still had yet to piece together why the silence lasted so long between them after the kiss, how the poem applied to them at all.

“Are you kidding?” Todd asks suddenly, seeming at his wit’s end by the anger clear in his voice, though Neil has no clue how he provoked it. “Of course I’m in your way! Neil, you’re just- you’re so great! You say things, people listen. You just- you can do whatever you want to do, whether that be acting or chemistry or writing your own script, and you’re automatically the best at it! I mean- you could be so much, could be friends with any and everyone, could be with any and everyone, and for some reason you still choose to hang out with me.”

After Todd’s impassioned confession, a stifling silence drapes over them once again, Neil trying to process everything that was just said while the other was most likely reeling from admitting so much suddenly. Todd thought he was great? Todd ignored him for almost a month because he thought it was for the best?

“How could being friends with you put you in the way of me? That doesn’t make any sense,” Neil states after a few more heavy beats of silence, still not understanding how any of what Todd said makes him some kind of obstacle.

“Oh, you’re gonna make me spell it out?” Todd asks, frustration clear in his voice and his face red from either anger or embarrassment, Neil couldn’t tell which.

Bewildered, Neil’s not sure how to respond. “Spell what out?”

“That I’m just- I’m a nobody! No one listens when I speak, I spend years trying to get good at anything I have a shred of talent in, and I only have friends because you and the Poets took pity on me and added me into your group. A-And for some reason, you still choose to waste your time on me! And if that isn’t enough to drag you down, I-I subject you to… to my perversions. You have so many great things ahead of you, and I’m just a burden in your way.”

Tears are in Todd’s eyes now, his face red and his chest heaving after the bitter admission. Neil felt tears of his own in his eyes at hearing how little Todd thinks of himself, this boy he realized he would do anything for. For these past two years, Neil thought Todd had been happy with his place in the friend group, had thought he fit in with all of them nicely and added a new and needed dynamic to the Poets. Did he really think his involvement was an action of pity after all of this time?

“How- how do you not notice how all of the Poets shut up for once in their lives when you so much as open your mouth?” Neil begins after a few seconds of a stunned silence, not being able to take another moment of Todd believing such falsities about himself. “God, the society meetings used to be such a joke before you started bringing poems to them. Really, Todd, Keating would be embarrassed to see what a joke they were before you started to bring actual poetry, before you made them what they were supposed to be.”

Despite admitting an embarrassing amount of how much attention Neil devotes to him, Todd is still shaking his head and resisting the confession. Rather than letting Todd dispute what he just said, though, Neil continues voicing his thoughts no matter how much it’ll end up revealing.

“And how- how can you think you’re anywhere near bad at anything? You’re the only one who gives thoughtful answers in Keating’s class, so much so that it’s funny at this point,” he points out, figuring that although the Poets sometimes provided some insight, no one ever hit the nail on the head the way always Todd did. “If… if anyone was holding someone back, it’s me to you. You could be the next great American poet, I’m sure of it, but I just distract you with my bullshit because- because you’re the only good thing in my shitty life that makes living worth it.”

Now it was his turn to reel from admitting too much, realizing too late that he just confessed how Todd was essentially the reason why he was still alive right now. Fuck, he never meant to let on that he ever considered taking his own life to anyone, but now here they were with his veiled confession splayed between them hideously. Todd looks shocked when Neil finally gets the courage to look at him, his jaw slack and tears still in his eyes.

Despite everything he confessed, however, Todd still shakes his head in disbelief once he snaps his mouth closed, his jaw clenching. “I’m still in your way. Your life could be so great, but I’m just weighing you down-”

“If anyone is in my way,” Neil cuts him off now, not taking any of Todd’s bullshit excuses, “it’s my dad, yeah? There is no one else I have wanted to be in my life more than you. It’s why I wrote that whole crazy script even when you were giving me the silent treatment.”

Todd’s still shaking his head, not seeming to hear anything coming out of Neil’s mouth. “But I- I kissed you just like I kissed Mike. I’m just- I’m a perverted freak who just ruins everything,” Todd stutters out in a shaky voice, tears tracking down his face even though his eyes are closed as he mournfully speaks.

Seeing how Todd’s hands are shaking as he presses them against his face to stop the tears, Neil feels the overwhelming urge to comfort him. While Neil thought he had been the only one dealing with the storm, Todd seemed to be dealing with just as much all this time, probably even longer than him since he first kissed Mike years ago.

“Todd,” Neil begins to say in a soft voice, gently taking one of Todd’s shaking hands and lining it up with his own so their fingers are mirroring one another since he was at a loss for what he should do. To his relief, his friend does not startle away but rather opens his wettened eyes to look everywhere but at him. “If kissing me is your perversion, then it’s mine too for liking it. It’s mine for wanting it to happen again.”

Slowly, in the embrace, Todd’s hand stops shaking against his, the warm touch seeming to soothe him. Their eyes meeting one another now, the earnest and tearful things that they are, Neil feels their hands locking into a hold as they lean into each other.

And suddenly, all of their insecurities and fears which were laid bare before are erased as their lips brush against one another’s. Neil feels the whirling storm that seems to be permanently dwelling within him now still for a moment as their mouths sync together, continuing the first kiss they had weeks ago as if no time had passed. Their free hands find purchase on one another as they deepen the kiss, their other hands staying locked in a hold as they tilted their heads to slot together.

The kiss lasts for as long as Neil can stand not breathing, eventually parting to come up for air even though he’s afraid doing so will just make Todd run away again. In the breathy silence between them, he gets the need to speak once again to fight some of the crazy things Todd’s said this afternoon.

“Todd, you’re not a nobody,” Neil breathes into the air between them, their faces still incredibly close. The words are only loud enough for them; that’s all that matters right now anyway. “You’re somebody. You- you’re my somebody, yeah?”

“Neil, this is your future we’re talking about,” Todd whispers back automatically as he shakes his head, as if thinking he’s someone decimates his chance at a normal life. Maybe it does, but Neil doesn’t give a shit either way.

“It’s not a future without you,” is all Neil can manage to say, not sure how else he can voice his need for Todd in his life without going on another earnest tangent about how wonderful he is.

To stop himself from rambling, Neil leans back into another kiss, Todd reciprocating as if it was second nature. Neil would never understand how homosexuality was donned with the descriptor of unnatural when pressing his mouth to Todd’s feels like the most natural thing he’s ever done, but he digresses.

“So will you?” Neil basically mouths to Todd’s lips, barely pulling away to speak again.

“Will I what?” Todd asks with their foreheads still pressed together, breathing one another’s air.

“Be my somebody,” Neil states, figuring this is the closest he’ll ever get to putting a label on whatever they had. Would Todd technically be his boyfriend? The storm within him pointed out how it sounded odd to him, being boyfriends, but maybe that was simply because Neil had never heard of such a thing. Maybe the viscous voice in his head didn't know anything about love in the first place.

Seeming not able to speak about it either, Todd merely nods his head against Neil’s in a silent yes. “And you mine?”

“I always have been,” Neil lightly chuckles in response, it dawning on him now that he’s always been in Todd’s back pocket. He let him join the society over a year ago even though he had hardly talked to him before and refused to read a single poem for chrissakes.

Todd also laughs at the comment, which soon dissolves in the air whenever they start to kiss again, smiles clear as their lips pressed together. Neil knew that there was still so much unsaid and unaddressed between them, shit that would definitely come up later, but all that he could bring himself to care about in this moment was that he was Todd’s somebody and Todd was finally his.

“Our final day of class!” Mr. Keating begins the period boisterously, his proclamation one of his loudest yet to shut up the excited chatter amongst the students. Since it was their last day of classes at Welton ever, all of the seniors were a bit excitable. Even Todd was laughing and murmuring with the Poets when he usually remained silent before class.

“Or should I say, it’s your final day of class. I’ll keep teaching here, of course, but today is your last academic day within these halls,” Keating reminds them with a sense of fascination in his voice, saying it as if he wanted them to truly understand the weight of his statement.

“And how else can we end our classes than the very way we started them?” Mr. Keating asks rhetorically, breaking out into a knowing grin. “Please open your textbooks to the last reading I assigned you.”

Most of the students groan in good nature, a bit upset with having to actually learn on their last day rather than blow the class off like normal high school seniors. Of course it was Welton so that wasn’t the case for any of their courses, but if any teacher were to allow such a thing, it would have been Keating.

“We’re back with Uncle Walt Whitman because I thought it would be nice to end on a love poem. And of course, that definitely shortens the reading for you lot,” Keating teases as the students leaf through their books to find the piece they were assigned to read yesterday.

“Now,” Mr. Keating says as he leans back onto his desk casually, surveying the room thoroughly with his eyes as he speaks, “what were your thoughts about ‘When I Heard at the Close of the Day?’”

“It didn’t rhyme,” Charlie points out immediately, trying to get a rise out of Keating with how simple his takeaway was.

“Exactly right, Mr. Dalton,” Keating smiles despite the attempted joke. “And what does that choice say about the poem to you?”

A bit deterred from being taken seriously, Charlie only sits silently for a few seconds before answering. “That he’s lazy?” he jokes, as witty as ever.

“Ah, I see. That is surely one way to look at it, Mr. Dalton, but have you considered that such choices could be made to reflect a certain message on its own?” Mr. Keating poses after the response, bouncing off of the desk and breaking into a stride as he speaks. “Perhaps Whitman disregarded the typical form of a sonnet to indicate that his love for this woman muddles his good sense, that he can’t go to the lengths of delivering his lines through iambic pentameter because he’s too excited to gush about his love for her.”

Neil had never considered that the format of the poem itself could insinuate something about the message, had just assumed that everything the poet wanted to say would be relayed through the words alone. This new perspective causes him to relook over the poem with practically new eyes.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” Charlie kids quickly after, taking the credit for all of Keating’s insightful observations. Not challenging him, Keating merely laughs along with the class and nods his head.

“But enough about the form for now. What did you think of the message within the poem, my fellow scholars?” Mr. Keating asks after the laughter dies down, trying to bring his class back to the topic at hand.

Meeks is the only one to raise his hand, much to Keating’s approval. “Well, I thought the message was very similar to the one in ‘The Gift of the Magi.’ Whitman doesn’t get his joy from what’s commonly considered as success, but instead from things like his good health and his lover.”

“That’s exactly right, Mr. Meeks. I’m glad that you’re connecting the message to previous texts since it’s interesting to see how certain themes about love overlap coincidentally,” Mr. Keating approves with a smile. “Whitman highlights how the grand things we are often told to want in life, such as recognition and applause from highly esteemed people, have little to do with happiness. In contrast to this, Whitman describes the joy he feels hearing the ocean’s waves applaud him for achieving sleeping next to the one he loves most.”

Neil nods along to his message, too afraid to look over at Todd since he’s increasingly suspected that Keating was a mind reader. The last thing he needed was his teacher seeing that he felt the very love he was describing for his best friend, especially since he now related to the last few lines of the poem.

“Now, given that message from the poem, how do you romantics feel about it?” Mr. Keating asks once he snaps out of his lecture, surveying the room to see who was paying the least attention. “Mr. Williams, what would you say about this implication?” he prompts, calling on one of the few meatheads which attended Welton.

Williams – Neil couldn’t remember the guy’s name for the life of him – nods along to the question. “It’s sweet?” he practically asks rather than answers.

“You’re absolutely right, Mr. Williams, it is sweet,” Keating approves with a cunning smile. “Would everyone else agree with that statement?” he asks, looking around to the rest of the class expectantly.

Neil feels himself nodding along with the rest of the students, supposing such a message really was sweet at its core. A glint appears in Mr. Keating’s eyes at this response, and he begins to pace across the front of the room as he folds his hands.

“Now, boys, jumping a bit off topic, how would you say you feel about the freedom of speech when it comes to art?” he poses randomly, perplexing Neil a bit at the shift. “Mr. Pitts?” he prompts after a few seconds of no one raising their hands.

“I-I mean, I think it’s important,” Pitts stammers to answer, not used to being called on. Of the quiet students in this class, Todd was definitely the one Keating favored to pick on, so any change from that was always a surprise.

“I second that,” Charlie asserts supportively, a proud smirk across his face that almost causes Neil to laugh.

“I’m very glad to hear that, Mr. Dalton. Now, can anyone in here voice why they think freedom of speech is important in art?” Mr. Keating asks after the responses, always imploring more and more into topics whenever he could.

Keating looks around for any takers on the question for a few seconds, finding no volunteers. After a few moments of expectantly waiting, his eyes land on Todd, sure to call on him next.

“I think,” Neil finds himself saying before he even knows what’s happening, “that it stops being art when there isn’t freedom of speech.”

“Could you expand a bit more on that, Mr. Perry?” Keating follows up with a mischievous glint in his eye, because of course he always needed more explanation.

“I guess- I mean, art is expression. Without the freedom of speech, art couldn’t be anything outside of what the government allows or wants the public thinking. So, um, it would stop being the artist’s expression and more of the government’s,” Neil tries his best to explain, hoping that what he was saying made sense to more than just him.

“Very good, Neil,” Mr. Keating appraises, causing him to let out an internal sigh of relief. “The idea that you’re getting at is censorship, being allowed to only say what the government wants to be said and everything else being cut out. Now, the reason why I went on this tangent in the first place is because the poem we just read was a piece of censored media by our school. Are there any guesses as to what was cut out or changed?”

Neil feels utterly shocked at the reveal that they had been ingesting a piece of censored media this whole time, and looking around to his friends, they all seem just as shocked as him. Well, except for Todd, who was staring gravely at his desk and not sparing a single glance upwards.

“Was there originally drug use?” Knox theorizes after the question is asked, earning a few snickers across the classroom.

“Errr, wrong Mr. Overstreet, but that is a good guess. Welton would definitely cut anything like that out of the poem,” Mr. Keating replies, hitting the bell on his desk to indicate that the guess was wrong good naturedly.

“Were there curse words in the original poem?” someone in the back right of the class guesses.

“Errr, incorrect Mr. White, but once again a good guess,” Keating denies with approval, hitting the bell on his desk yet again. A few more guesses are thrown around until Charlie asks an egregious one.

“Was the poem originally sexual?” Charlie asks jokingly, getting a good laugh out of the class.

“Now, you all laugh, but Mr. Dalton here was the closest guess so far,” Mr. Keating tacks on once the laughter dies down a bit. “The change has to do with the lover within the poem. Anyone else want to take a stab at it I reveal the change?”

The room falls silent now, all of the students struggling to think of what other possible changes could have been made since so many of the possibilities had already been guessed. Looking over to Todd, Neil finds him still looking at his desk with pinkened cheeks. Did he know but just didn’t want to say?

“Since nobody else seems to have a guess, I’ll tell you all what the censorship was,” Keating says after a few more seconds of charged silence. “Originally, Whitman’s poem contained male pronouns when referring to his lover.”

Neil feels his gut drop at the reveal, hoping the ground would swallow him up now since that would mean this was a nightmare rather than reality. He was struggling enough with his degeneracy on his own, had finally come to a sort of understanding with Todd, so why did homosexuality have to be brought up now?

“Now, I see you all making your disgusted faces, but before I had revealed this change, you all agreed that the message was sweet. And after that, you all agreed that freedom of speech is important when it comes to art, that censorship is bad. So now that a poet expresses a different belief than you, do you think censorship is okay all of the sudden?” Mr. Keating lectures, Neil only half-listening because he’s more focused on trying not to redden at the topic.

“Before any of you get mad, know that I’m not trying to make you think or believe anything about this subject. You can be disgusted by the poem now that you know it fully, that is your right, but art should have the right to be disagreeable rather than forced to be acceptable to the majority,” he’s quick to point out before any complaints can arise. Although he’s making good points, Neil can only feel a pit forming in his gut as the topic persists.

“All of this is to say that as you go on to college, as you pursue higher education, try to be aware of the possible censorship you’ll encounter in your courses. Most instances, we’re not getting the full story, just like Welton making sure we didn’t get Whitman’s full story. And boys, don’t let anyone censor your work either. You each have a unique voice, and using it is an art in of itself, so please don’t let it be quieted or altered no matter where you go after you graduate,” Mr. Keating continues to lecture, a very serious tone in his voice now.

The lighthearted and jovial air in the room was sucked out the second Keating mentioned anything about homosexuality, and the change in atmosphere was abundantly clear once he closed up his speech. There’s not much time to linger on that lesson, however, because the bell is ringing and their last class with Mr. Keating is officially over.

Laughter and chatter take up the room again as everyone wrestles their way out and into the hall, the tension from before magically forgotten, but Neil feels stuck to his seat. Why would Keating lecture about something so dicey on their last day? Couldn’t he have found a different example for his whole censorship lecture?

Finally looking up and over to Todd’s spot, Neil finds him in the exact same position he was in earlier, his back hunched and his neck bent over to look at nothing other than his desk. Thinking back to Leaves of Grass, the Whitman book he had gotten Todd for his birthday, Neil realizes that his friend probably knew all along that their textbooks had a censored version. That’s why he was uneasy for the majority of the lesson.

Not being able to look at Todd in front of Mr. Keating anymore, Neil stands up abruptly and leaves the class with the rest of the stragglers. To be honest, he was scared shitless of talking to Keating right now, figuring his x-ray eyes would see right through him and land on his degeneracy.

Stalking off to his room alone, Neil’s given the time to actually think about the whole censorship lesson. Even though it had been over 100 years since Whitman had written most of his poetry, Neil was sure that his play itself would most likely be censored as well if it was ever picked up by any theaters even though it isn’t explicitly homosexual. Just David and William running away together would be too much, leave too much up for interpretation since it was 1961 after all.

But Neil could also fight to have their story told, as vague as his and Todd’s ending is, just like Keating said. Maybe happiness was like what Whitman wrote, not found in success but by simply waking up next to your lover. Maybe that’s what he needed to fight over.

But then again, Neil had seen the disgusted faces when Keating revealed the homosexual nature of the poem. He wasn’t sure if there would ever be a time where he wasn’t censored, so what was the point in fighting for his story to be told? Just for there to be proof that another queer died in vain?

He didn’t want to be another story on the radio which was met with apathy. He wanted to be somebody. Why did that seem so impossible now that he was his happiest with Todd?

Even though classes were done, there were still two buffer days for the students to pack up their belongings and prepare for graduation. It also gave them time to wrap up their extracurriculars, which Neil was appreciative of now despite initially being pissed at the idea at the beginning of the year. Anything to further him from returning back to the unforgiving routine of military camp, to further him from his inevitable fate. Besides, it was nice to row when there weren’t looming assignments rushing through his head.

He’s just finished showering after his last rowing meet when he lets himself into his room, calling out to Todd in greeting. He’s expecting Todd to be sitting at his desk, for him to possibly even give him a chaste kiss once he closes the door since they had been doing that more and more in their waning days, but Neil finds the room empty.

Going to put his toiletries away, his eyes catch on a single piece of paper on his desk. Picking it up after putting his glasses on, Neil’s eyebrows crease once he reads the message left for him: meet me on the roof.

The paper isn’t signed, but Neil could figure who wrote it even if he didn’t know Todd’s handwriting. His real concern is over what Todd could possibly need to talk about that was so private that it needed to be discussed on the roof.

Figuring he wouldn’t get any answers just standing there, though, Neil quickly gets dressed in some beige slacks and a white t-shirt given the warmer weather. Once he’s got his Converse on, he’s making his way through the hallway and up to the rooftop, making sure to keep an eye out so no administration sees him slip through the restricted doors.

Poking his head out of the door that leads to the roof, Neil remains silent as he scans the space for Todd. Seeing the serene way the other boy is sitting with his legs dangling off the side of the rooftop, he almost never wants to announce himself, content to just watch Todd enjoy the scenery.

But then a crease in Todd’s brow appears, his mouth tugging down as he seems to be lost in thought. Right, he asked Neil to come up here for some reason.

“Todd?” he announces himself gently, still loud enough to be heard but hopefully not enough to scare the shit out of the other boy. Quickly, Todd’s head whips around to find who was speaking, and a small smile pulls at his mouth when his eyes land on Neil although the crease in his brow remains.

“Hey,” he responds quietly, his eyes following Neil as he finally leaves the doorway to sit next to his friend. He wonders for a moment if Todd called him up here just so they could listen to the radio together, but Neil leaves it untouched since Todd hasn’t gone to play it yet.

“So,” Neil starts to say after a few seconds of them smiling and staring at one another, wondering if he should inch his hand closer to rest on top of Todd’s or not. “You asked me to meet you here?”

He tracks how Todd watches him rustle his dampened hair to get it out of his eyes, a smile threatening to take over his face as he does so. Todd really did have a thing about his hair, but Neil supposes the same case applied to him if all of the scrapped papers of his play or the nights they spent cuddling were anything to go by.

“Yeah, um…” Todd begins to say before his voice dies in the air, his bottom lip being worried underneath his teeth. “Alright, I’m gonna say something crazy, but you have to promise not to laugh.”

Neil chuckles a bit at the warning itself. “But what if you say the funniest joke ever?” Neil poses hypothetically, taking more and more liberties to tease Todd now that they’re officially something.

Despite his joke, though, Todd’s face remains grave as he shakes his head. “Neil, I’m serious.”

“Alright, alright, I promise I won’t laugh,” Neil appeases, his smile dampening as his brows crease to match Todd’s. What could this possibly be about?

“What if- Well, I mean, you know David and William in your play?” Todd stutters out, Neil not following at all.

“Yeah, I know the characters I wrote, surprisingly enough,” he responds, not being able to help himself from being sarcastic. Todd rolls his eyes at the comment before continuing.

“Well, you know how you have them run away? What if we did something like that?” Todd finally huffs out in a quiet voice, his tone weary and conspiratory at the same time.

Now it’s Neil’s turn to roll his eyes, believing Todd was just taking the piss now. “Come on, I thought we’ve been over this,” he starts to dismiss, knowing just how hard it was to recover after entertaining such idiotic ideas last time.

“We- we were just joking then, I know that. But I- I mean, now we actually have a reason to do it,” Todd argues, stumbling through his explanation. Neil just shakes his head, a stone forming in his gut at the conversation when he realizes how serious Todd was being.

“Todd, don’t you get it?” Neil asks, his voice reflecting more hopelessness and disparity than he was intending. “My life is over. It’s been decided. Maybe if I behave enough, I’ll be able to visit you and the Poets during the holidays.”

“But it’s not,” Todd refutes earnestly. “Your life isn’t over until you get into the car with your dad after graduation.”

But Neil is shaking his head again, not processing anything Todd was saying. “Everything I do to feel better just makes the punishment worse. Can’t you see that? I wouldn’t have to go back to military camp if I didn’t apply to the art school in the first place. Maybe we could have had the summer together at least.”

“That’s just what your dad wants you to think, and you know it. What did you do wrong to deserve going to summer school the year before military camp?” Todd points out, causing Neil’s gut to sink since it was a thought he had in the past that he didn’t want to confront.

“It’s- It wasn’t like that,” Neil rushes to defend his dad although he has no clue why he felt the need to when his father never seemed to have his best interests at heart.

“Do you- do you really want to go back to that camp? Do you want to be forced to starve and not sleep for days on end?” Todd asks rhetorically, only serving to anger Neil. He acts like it’s so simple.

“Of fucking course not. But trying to get out of it will only make it worse,” Neil argues, throwing his hands up in exasperation. How could Todd not see that his life was a cruel cycle of trying and failing, rebelling and being punished?

“And what happens after you act like the perfect son? A decade of medical school and then what? A life of whatever you saw on career day?” Todd challenges, each question feeling like an attack of its own.

Neil had been trying so hard to close career day out from his memory, but now the blood and the cries and everything in between were flashing behind his eyes, causing his breathing to go rigid.

Then his mind cuts to the days and nights he spent in the mud, being screamed at and shaken awake any time he dozed off and being refused food no matter how hungry he got. He feels the color drain from his face as he thinks of the early mornings and the yelling and the surveillance of it all.

Taking Neil’s silence in stride, Todd continues. “So what if you get caught? Your life is gonna end up shitty even if you do what your dad says, at least this way you can know that you actually tried to escape it rather than just- just taking it,” he points out, almost sounding angry now as he attempts to rally Neil.

And really, what could happen if he was caught? His dad had revealed his hand too soon; he’d already sentenced Neil to the worst fate and had very little else to punish him with.

Looking up to meet Todd’s eyes for the first time since they started talking, he sees the fire burning within his friend’s gaze. It dawns on him that Todd was now the only thing he had left to lose, and he has the sinking feeling that giving up and doing what his dad expected would be the way to lose him.

So then Neil speaks. “What were you thinking?”

Todd lets out a small sigh of accomplishment at this, figuring he at least had Neil listening now rather than fighting against him.

“I think I have enough saved up for us to get over to San Francisco and maybe enough for a month or two at an apartment. I thought we would be able to get jobs pretty easy since we’ll be there all summer, hopefully before we burn through all of my savings anyway,” Todd explains, his systematic way of talking revealing he had been thinking about this specific question extensively on his own.

“How are we getting there? Bus? Train?” Neil starts to ask before he can close down the conversation like his brain is screaming for him to do. Talking about these plans didn’t feel real, felt like an elaborate game of dolls the girls Neil would see in the park as a kid playing.

“Well, I was thinking…” he starts to say before trailing off, causing Neil to crease his brows. What was so crazy that Todd was scared to say it now?

“You were thinking…?” he parrots, prompting Todd to continue.

“I mean, do you think your dad has sold your car already?” Todd asks almost through a wince.

“No, no way. I mean, we’re not stealing a car,” Neil refuses as he shakes his head disbelievingly, trying to close off the idea as soon as it’s uttered.

“I mean, is it stealing if it’s your car? Do you think he put it under your name?” Todd continues on, trying to disregard Neil’s panic just at the insinuation.

“I mean, probably, but–”

“So then it’s not stealing,” Todd cuts him off, as if that alone resolves the argument.

“But we don’t even know if he’s sold it or not!” Neil points out exasperatedly. Honestly, he couldn’t believe Todd right now. Where had the boy who was afraid to utter more than two words at a time gone?

“So let me ask you again: do you think your dad already sold the car?” Todd reiterates, doubling down on his insanity. Neil goldfishes before he finally gives in and answers.

“Honestly? No. He’d probably make me sell my car as its own punishment,” Neil confesses, not liking how correct Todd was being at every turn.

“So then we get there by using your car, not stealing it,” Todd resolves right after. “Worse comes to worse, we can bike to the nearest train or bus station and buy tickets there, but it’d be best to save every cent we could.”

Neil is shaking his head in denial after the statement, not really believing his ears. “I can’t believe we’re entertaining this idea right now.”

“Were you serious the other day?” Todd asks out of nowhere, catching Neil off guard.

“Serious about what?” he asks, trying to wrack his brain over what Todd could be alluding to.

“About- you know, about me being your somebody and you mine. Was- was that just a joke to you?” Todd questions, his head downcast and his voice lowering back to the timid tone it usually took on.

“No, of course not. I wouldn’t- Todd, I would never joke about that,” Neil dismisses vehemently, his heart aching just at the thought of doing something that low.

“Then why does it feel like I’m the only one fighting for us? You- you seem so ready to just roll over and die, but you’re forgetting that doing what your dad wants you to do affects me too,” Todd confesses as he moves his arms to emphasize his frustration, eventually pressing on his eyes as if he was blocking out tears like he did in the cave – was he also scolded for crying as a child?

And shit, he had a point. Neil had been so focused on his own life ending that he never thought of how resigning to his fate could be ending what he had with Todd too. He never thought being with Todd was a possibility outside of the bubble of Welton, but maybe it was. Maybe they could rent an apartment together and go to school in San Francisco. Maybe they were something worth fighting for no matter the consequence.

“God, Todd, I’m sorry. It’s just- you know how scared shitless I’ve been since I was caught after the play. Somewhere along the line, I guess I started to believe the lie that going with the motions would make everything better, but it’s like you said, that’s just what my dad wants,” he confesses, looking down at his scraggly laces as he does so.

Neil used to feel so invulnerable; he could laugh just thinking about the excitement which took over him as he faked a letter from his dad excusing him for rehearsals junior year. Now, he was always fucking terrified. Terrified of anyone knowing about the play, terrified of anyone knowing about the art school application, terrified of anyone knowing about him and Todd, terrified of anyone knowing about him.

He wondered how much he had to sacrifice, how many days he had to let pass by listlessly rather than seizing them before he’d finally had enough. Maybe today was the day that he no longer allowed terror to seize him into stillness.

Jolting him out of the moment, he hears Todd laughing to his left. He looks at the other boy with a perplexed question in his eye, wondering what could be so funny as he laid his insecurities bare like this.

“Sorry, sorry, I guess it’s just funny because… Neil, you’re, like, the bravest person I know. You say that you’re scared shitless, but scared people wouldn’t write a whole play behind their dad’s back after going through what you did. Scared shitless people wouldn’t chase me down and face me when I was acting the way I was,” Todd confesses through a smile, his eyes only wet now as he looks off towards the sun slowly lowering down to the skyline. “You can reject carpe diem all you want, but it’s like nothing can stop you from seizing the day even if you wanted it to.”

Now Neil is the one to laugh, disbelieving but also realizing just how much he managed to do despite his fear. “I guess I’m crazy,” he chuckles out, Todd joining in with his laughter.

The other boy shakes his head at the statement with a smile, speaking once his chuckles die down. “Brave, crazy, whatever it is, I wish I had more of it,” Todd muses.

“Well, this batshit plan is a good first step,” Neil jokes, causing the both of them to break into giggling again.

If Neil wasn’t as brave as he was, he supposes he and Todd would still not be on speaking terms. They wouldn’t spend their nights pressed against one another like they do now. They wouldn’t have even had a chance to kiss again; they only would have had that brief brush of lips two months ago to their names. Maybe they wouldn’t have even had their afternoons in the cave; hell, maybe he would have never known Todd at all if he wasn’t as crazy as he was.

So what’s a little more? Todd was right; now was the last chance they’d get.

“When are we doing it?” Neil asks, his mind still struggling to grasp that this was an actual conversation they were having. If they really were running away, they couldn’t leave anything up for question.

“Well, I was thinking tomorrow since we would be able to slip away pretty easy at night–”

“No way,” Neil cuts off, shaking his head. “We suffered through Hellton, we’re getting our goddamn diplomas.”

“But you said that you’re going to be shipped off immediately after the ceremony; your dad told you that. We can’t- we can’t risk it,” Todd stresses, revealing once again just how much thought he had put into this. Neil almost wants to cry at the idea of Todd being willing to sacrifice his high school diploma for him if it wasn’t so idiotic.

“We have to. I doubt they’ll actually let us attend the college if we show up without any proof of a high school education,” Neil says resolutely, voicing what Todd was too afraid to say. “We’ll just leave after the ceremony.”

“That’s crazy,” Todd mutters to himself, chuckling a bit in disbelief. Neil knew it was insane to attempt to slip away when Welton was going to be more full of adults than ever, but there was no other choice. They had to receive their diplomas fair and square since stealing them preemptively could cause Welton to revoke them.

“You say that like this whole plan isn’t already crazy. We’re gonna steal my car, remember?” Neil teases, his brain slowly but surely settling into the insanity of their plan as he watches Todd laugh and nod along to his statement.

They’d have to find some way to get to their houses to grab their belongings along with taking Neil’s car, but besides that huge bump in the plan, it seemed pretty foolproof. Neil didn’t like to think about it for too long, though, dread grabbing hold of his heart at the idea of all that could go wrong, at the idea of leaving the town he always knew to go across the country with no plan or destination really.

“Neil are you- I guess I’m trying to see if you’re really serious about this. Are you sure you want to run away? This isn’t just us playing make-believe again, right?” Todd asks after a few seconds, letting them think about how cruel Neil’s father has revealed himself to be when his son doesn’t do exactly what he wants him to do.

“I think you’re right; we’d go crazy if we never tried,” is all Neil can answer, because truly, he would be driven mad if he was stuck in a life as a doctor knowing that he never even attempted to live like how he wanted to live. “Besides, what more do I have to lose? My dad played his cards too soon.”

“Well, he probably didn’t see you running away as a possibility,” Todd jokes, having a fair point.

“What about you?” Neil asks after a second. “You actually have stuff to lose.”

“It’s like you said,” Todd replies, his eyes looking in the distance imagining most likely his future if he did what was planned for him, “I would regret it for the rest of my life if I didn’t even try. Besides, I don’t think my parents care enough to punish me anyway.”

Neil’s hit with a hollow pang of sadness at Todd’s last comment, the same feeling he had when the other boy revealed that his parents didn’t spare him enough attention to even get him a different birthday gift. The feeling doesn’t last, though, because he reassures himself that this plan was their way of getting revenge on all of the shitty adults in their lives.

They continue the rest of the afternoon like that, going over their inane plan of running away and fine-tuning it as much as they could. The sun is hugging the skyline of trees and threatening to disappear completely by the time they finally leave the roof in order to make it to dinner. If they really were going to run away, they had to continue on as if nothing was amiss to not raise any alarms.

Walking down the steps which led back to the top floor behind Todd, Neil finds himself admiring the boy in front of him. He’s come so far from the timid kid who could hardly speak in class without having an aneurysm.

Right before Todd opens the door which leads out to the hallway, Neil plants a chaste kiss on the other boy’s mouth, stunning him in place as he slips out the door and runs away with laughter and the warmth of Todd on his lips. Trying not to stumble from how hard he laughs when Todd finally pursues him down the hallway, Neil's only hope is that their plan would lead to endless moments like this.

“I have a poem I want to read out,” Todd lightly murmurs to Neil, which he happens to hear easily despite the ruckus going on in the cave because he was already giving the other boy his full attention.

Neil couldn’t seem to pry his eyes away from him, not since he and Todd finalized their plans of running away on the rooftop just a few hours ago. He couldn’t believe those plans were real, much less that the beautiful boy in front of him wanted to go and do something that crazy with him.

Usually he was more mindful of how he acted around Todd when with the Poets, but Neil couldn’t bring himself to care since graduation was so near. Tonight was their last society meeting even though there was still one more buffer day before graduation; they decided that they needed that time to fully pack since security measures would probably go up the closer it got to graduation anyway.

So here they were, seven odd yet sentimental boys performing poetry for one another one last time because they would soon be considered men. Neil didn’t know when he’d see the haphazard group of friends he made over his years at Welton again, if ever, and it was a heavy thought which kept solidifying in his gut.

He’d been so relieved at the idea of keeping Todd in his life past graduation that he completely forgot that it required leaving all of his other friends behind. Maybe they’d surprise him, maybe they would switch to going to Stanford or some other selective college on the west coast, but even then, their friends could only be so close. Neil would never get to be with them the way he had been here at Welton; he had to give the school credit for that no matter how much he hated it.

His self-pitying train of thought is interrupted when Charlie and Knox’s roughhousing gets too rowdy, legs at random kicking up in the air while Meeks and Pitts try to pry them apart through their laughter. Right, the meeting.

Their last session had been going well so far, each and every one of them bringing strong pieces. Although Charlie’s piece was notably better than anything he had ever brought before, – “The Flea” by John Donne – Knox still challenged him on the seriousness of his contribution since the poet used a bug as the main analogy for the poem. Neil had stopped paying attention by that point, but it now seems to have evolved into a playful fight amongst the two.

All that was left before they were done with this chapter of their lives forever was Todd’s poem, and here he was saying that he wanted to read out what he brought himself. Neil has half a mind to hope that he brought his own poem, but he also knows that would be asking a lot of Todd for such a momentous occasion. He’s pretty sure the spastic energy from the other Poets is simply their anticipation for whatever their revered friend brought.

Now that he’s snapped back into the moment, Neil smiles at Todd despite the crease forming in his brow. “You sure? You know you’ve already proven yourself as the best poet here,” he checks as he teases him lightly, not wanting their last meeting to be an anxious or negative experience for Todd.

There doesn’t seem to be any nervousness possessing Todd now, though, his face determined as he nods. “Yeah. Besides, I have to set that in stone before we leave.”

His confidence startles a delighted chuckle from Neil, causing him to nod along in agreement to the statement. Without wasting anymore time listening the others bicker about one thing or another, Neil stands and claps his hands until everyone falls silent.

“My fellow poets, for the very last poem for the final Dead Poets Society meeting, our very own Todd Anderson has volunteered to read out a piece he brought,” Neil announces as theatrically as he can, reminiscing on when Todd first brought his own poem to a meeting last semester.

Everyone claps at the news, Charlie and Pitts going as far as cheering aloud, and Cameron opens his mouth to say something before he’s interrupted.

“No, Cam, not something I wrote,” Todd says as he stands up to read his poem out, his voice gentle but still loud enough to be heard despite the noise. Cameron’s mouth snaps closed after that, getting a laugh out of the rest of them at the interaction. They all really did know one another well by now, even Todd who was the newest to their group.

Sitting down where he was before, Neil looks up at his friend excitedly in anticipation of what poem he brought. For a moment while Todd gets the paper out from his pocket and unfolds it, Neil lets himself marvel at the fact that despite all of their meetings and all of the mornings Todd recited poetry for him, he never repeated a poem - not when he was conscious at least. Neil’s not sure how he could contain so many multitudes, but he feels his heart hitch at the idea of having the time to discover them someday.

“The poem I brought is another one by Laurence Rich,” Todd begins prefacing, causing Neil’s breath to catch since he knew for a fact that this was actually something Todd had written himself. He wonders for a moment why Todd didn’t have the confidence to claim this poem as his own in front of all of his friends before he continues speaking. “It’s called ‘The Great Escape.’”

Immediately, Neil can’t help his mind from darting over to the idea of their planned getaway after graduation. Is that what inspired this poem? Before he can speculate much more, though, Todd is reading out the opening lines.

“Who will arrange my great escape? / Hopelessly, I’ve been torn from this outrage / Tossing and turning uneasy, it cost me the cross / Am I at rest or resigned in my chaos?” Todd recites timidly despite his confidence before, each and every line hitting Neil like a ton of bricks given the context he knows.

The line about the cross causes him to reflect on the possibility that Todd also struggled with his religion in their whole degeneracy debacle. Although religion is not something which he or the Poets discussed at all, it seemed to be a recurring topic in Todd’s poems if the last one he wrote for the meeting was anything to go by.

And the last line especially hit Neil where he wasn’t expecting it, though he supposed he should have anticipated Todd’s last poem to be just as heavy as all of the others he had brought and written. Neil had been feeling similarly, wondering if he truly was at peace with sort of being in a relationship with Todd, if he was at peace with being a degenerate, or if it was something insane and disgusting which he was desensitized to by now.

Regardless of the dilemma the first four lines cause within him, Todd continues reading. “There’s nothing / I need to escape my own home / But how far away can we go?” his voice rings out solemnly through the silent cave.

Once again, knowing Todd and the conversation they had mere hours ago makes these lines hit harder for him than how the Poets were probably processing the poem. Neil also feels the need to escape, but the desolate question of how far one can really get from their home haunts him.  He’s afraid that no matter how far he runs, the anger within his father will travel with him, that it will grow to live in him as well. Neil worries that those lines are how the poem concludes, being relieved when Todd continues.

“There’s something / And it’s the light on your hand / And it’s my heart’s sole demand,” Todd reads out, his voice steady and louder than it was in the beginning. Neil feels his ears perk up at the tone shift, not expecting a switch from nothing to something. Could this be a happy poem after all?

“There’s one thing / And it’s the weight of our wish / And it’s our very first kiss,” Todd concludes on a hopeful note, his face reddening as he reads out the final lines.

Though the Poets may just disregard Todd's shyness to him performing in front of them, Neil truly knows why his face was red now when they make fleeting eye contact, knows why he made this poem under his pseudonym rather than his own name. He essentially confessed that all of his doubts were overshadowed by his love for Neil; he’s too scared to feel his own face now because he’s afraid it’s just as red as Todd’s from the realization.

Like usual, the Poets all burst out into clapping, and Neil has half a mind to join in despite how awestruck he was of the other boy. Todd smiles at all of them despite his self consciousness before retiring from the spotlight to his spot next to Neil.

When they break out into their analysis, Meeks points out the same thing Neil noticed with the recurring cross imagery within Rich’s work, only he knew the actual reason behind such decisions. The rest of the analysis goes the same way, the Poets extracting the same meaning out of every essential area while Neil was there to smile at Todd for understanding the lengths of how true each takeaway was. The only thing which they picked up on that Neil hadn’t already was the structure of the poem.

“Don’t you guys see this structure that starts halfway through the poem?” Cameron asks as he points at the paper Todd had offered them, the rest of the Poets crowding around to see what he meant.

“Yeah, with the whole nothing, something, and then one thing interjections,” Pitts adds on, nodding his head and pointing to the lines as he speaks.

“I mean, it’s neat, don’t get me wrong, but what does it even mean anyway?” Charlie asks after a moment, always the devil’s advocate when it comes to such discussions.

“Since the poem is about love, maybe each of those phrases reflect different stages of their relationship. Like, the guy first thinks he has no shot since he says there’s nothing, but then something gives him hope, and then it actually happens at the one thing line,” Knox contributes, his brow creased as he also points at the page to explain his understanding.

“And since we know the other poem by Rich and how that was about a hopeless love, I’m pretty sure that solidifies our understanding,” Meeks points out meaningfully.

“I guess our boy Rich’s hopeless love wasn’t so hopeless after all,” Charlie jokes, earning a chuckle out of the group. Casting a sideways glance to the boy beside him, Neil’s not surprised to see Todd’s face just as red as it was when he finished reading out the poem.

“And,” Neil pitches in for the first time of the night, “maybe the great escape that the title is referring to is actually what the girl is for Rich. Maybe loving her is an escape from the outrage and chaos he first talks about.”

Neil knows he’s testing the boundaries now, at least covering up his direct teasing of Todd by using female pronouns for Rich’s lover. As fun as it would have been to use gender neutral terms, Neil saw the silent way that the Poets didn’t bring any Whitman poems tonight after Keating’s controversial last lesson. It may just be a coincidence, sure, but the poet usually was quoted by one of them at least once per session given how much Keating revered him.

“Or it could just be about escaping,” Todd counters, a defiant smile on his lips as he argues with Neil now.

“No, I’m pretty sure it’s the whole head-over-heels in love thing, personally,” Neil fights back with a shit-eating grin, enjoying inadvertently putting words in Todd’s mouth.

Of course the Poets don’t understand what’s really going on here, thinking most likely that Neil and Todd are arguing over a minute part of the poem for no reason. Only the two of them could know that they’re flirting at the moment, as abstract as the delivery was.

“Besides that,” Knox cuts in, not picking up on the electric eye contact between the two boys, “did we interpret the poem correctly?”

Everyone falls silent as they wait for Todd to respond, Neil’s smile only increasing because he either had to crush the spirits of the Poets or confirm that this entire piece was a love poem for him. It was a nice predicament to be caught in.

“I-I got pretty much the same thing,” Todd eventually confirms, causing all of them to cheer out in success. Neil knew Todd couldn’t break all of their hearts, especially on their last night of ever meeting like this, so head-over-heels in love he was.

Although they were all aware that this was their last society meeting, the fact seems to hit everyone once their initial cheers die down, all of them sitting silently since they're afraid to get up and leave one final time. They’re all waiting for someone to either get up first or speak to keep the night going.

“I can’t believe this is it,” Knox is the one to break the silence after a few beats, the rest of the Poets immediately nodding along and agreeing once it’s said.

“I mean, it doesn’t have to be. We can still meet during holidays and bring some poetry if we want,” Meeks pitches, trying to hold onto whatever magic their meetings had become.

“I sure as hell am not doing that,” Charlie chuckles, earning frowns from the rest of the group. Seeing how his joke didn’t land, he doubles down on his point. “What? You guys expect me to spend my break during college reading poetry with you guys? I’d rather we just, I don’t know, hang out.”

Although most of the group is in disapproval, Cameron adds to the conversation. “Charlie’s got a point. I mean, we kind of only did these meetings because there’s not much else to do at Welton. If I get to see you guys later, I’d rather spend the time catching up and not reciting poetry,” he defends, personally shocking Neil since this is the first time he thinks Charlie and Cameron have ever agreed on anything.

It hurts to hear that’s how Cameron and probably the rest of the Poets viewed their meetings, as something they did out of sheer boredom rather than passion, but Neil also came to terms with the fact that their society didn’t mean as much to them as it did to him when Charlie brought the girls to a meeting last semester. And maybe they were just lying to themselves so this habit they’ve fallen into feels less queer, but either way, Neil is at peace with whatever truth.

“The important thing is that we stay friends, right?” Pitts asks after a few moments of a stiff silence, to which all of them unanimously agree.

“No matter what happens, right? Like even if we get split up or no matter how our futures end up turning out?” Todd quietly asks after, all of the Poets quieting when hearing him speak.

The rest of them nod along and agree the same way they did with Pitts’ question, but Neil feels a wave of sadness hit him after Todd’s inquiry. Because he knew that if he and Todd really were successful in running away to the west coast, the chances of the Poets still wanting to be their friends were very slim.

But that doesn’t matter now because Neil’s here with his only friends in the world, and they’re all grinning from ear to ear.

“We better. I plan on mooching off of whoever ends up the richest out of all of us,” Charlie comments, causing all of them to start laughing as the dismal tension from before is broken.

No one cries that night, – they were all 18 year old men after all, why would they cry in front of one another? – but their sorrow at saying goodbye takes on a form of jubilance as they all chant and dance the same way they did for their very first meeting. It felt like a ritual at this point, and Neil is all too ready to fall into the laughter and random banging that the songs they made required.

Soon after, all of them run back to Welton as if their lives depended on it, as if getting back there any faster made a difference. Because this is what they did after every meeting, so why break the tradition to make the moment last longer?

While they’re running back, Neil lets laughter fall freely out of his mouth despite the murky future ahead of him. Even though the Dead Poets Society was officially disbanded, Neil was so glad that fate aligned for it to ever reconvene in the first place.

Tomorrow is the day Neil had been dreaming of ever since he ever started attending Welton: the day he finally graduates. Back when he was a naive kid, he had thought that graduation would open him up to all sorts of opportunities, and more importantly, he thought it would finally provide some distance between him and his father’s stifling surveillance.

The longer he attended the school, though, and the more he tried to carve out a path for himself, the more he realized that graduation was only another step in his father’s 30-year-plan for him. And of course they could never actually talk about it because any hint that Neil was dissatisfied with what was chosen for him behind his back donned him as ungrateful and spoiled since his father wasn’t afforded the same opportunities, because his dad had endured many sacrifices to get him in Hellton in the first place.

The only way he was able to stay in Welton after the play is because Neil played to his father’s beliefs and pointed out how Harvard would be less willing to accept a student from a military school. Everyone knew they were just reformatories for ill-mannered boys, so punishing him for one outburst that way would cause him to look akin to the boys who destroyed public property and flunked out of class.

So summer military camp it was. Neil didn’t think his father could get any crueler from the summers he made him spend his supposed vacation days studying chemistry and trigonometry, but the boot camp disproved that notion.

Neil thought that sending a letter about how they were starving him would jolt some sense into his dad, that he’d realize that he didn’t read enough into the camp and immediately withdraw him from the torture, but he received no reply and remained enrolled for all three months.  After that, Neil couldn’t imagine that his dad had unsuspectingly subjected him to such cruelties; he had to face the fact that his father knew full well what he was going to put him through and sent him off anyway.

Neil had said that he had nothing left to lose, that his dad had revealed his hand too soon, but deep down he worried that his father had conjured up some new inexplicable punishment to dole out if Neil so much as breathed wrong. He loved his parents, he always would, but the further he got from being what his father wanted him to be, the more Neil wondered how conditional his parents’ love was all along.

With all of these thoughts raging through his head, it makes sense that he ends up on Mr. Keating’s doorstep. He always seemed to come here when he wasn’t sure what to do about his dad.

“Come in,” Keating’s muffled voice says absentmindedly through the door after Neil knocks, causing him to realize that he was actually doing this; he was saying goodbye to his favorite teacher forever. From the second he gently opens the door, Neil feels that same pressure he always got behind his eyes when alone with Keating threatening to make him tear up even though nothing has happened yet.

“Oh Neil, what a nice surprise,” Mr. Keating says once he looks up from his desk which is completely covered in overlapping papers. He was most likely finishing up their final report cards to send out to their parents; Neil wondered if Keating restrained the authenticity of his notes due to how much his dad disliked him. “Please, please, sit down.”

Snapping out of that train of thought, Neil complies and takes the seat closest to his desk. “Sorry to interrupt you,” he apologizes, not realizing Keating would still have work to do since classes were over.

“Oh, it’s no problem. A welcome distraction, if you ask me,” Keating kids, getting a light laugh out of Neil. “So, are you relieved to finally be done with Hellton? Ready to walk across that stage?”

Neil smiles and nods along at first, but then he feels himself slow as his smile falters. Rather than inquiring, Keating just creases his brows in question. Even these pleasantries are making the pressure behind his eyes increase.

“Well, of course I’m ready to graduate but… my dad is sending me back to military camp for the summer before I go to Harvard. So it’s kind of hard to be excited for that,” Neil explains, figuring telling his teacher this much wasn’t bad. As long as he didn’t tell him about the whole running away thing, he couldn’t incriminate Keating or ruin their plan.

“Ah, I see,” Mr. Keating says with a sad look of understanding on his face. “And how would you say–”

“Do you think I’m weak?” Neil cuts off his teacher suddenly, feeling as shocked as Mr. Keating looks at the interruption. He has no idea where that came from, but now he couldn't take it back, one of his worst insecurities suspended in the air between them now.

“I’m sorry, Neil, I don’t think I’m following,” Keating eventually responds, attempting to get his footing with the abrupt shift in the conversation.

“It’s just- I don’t know. I guess I never understood why you gave that lesson about Of Mice and Men where the world is about splitting the weak from the strong. It’s such a, I don’t know, cynical view and doesn’t align with what you’ve taught us at all,” Neil rambles before he can stop himself, finally expressing thoughts he assumed he would always have kept locked up.

“Neil, I don’t think you’re weak–”

“But I am!” Neil can’t help but cut off Mr. Keating again by raising his voice, not being able to take someone else lying to him. He was weak, and Keating denying it only made him feel more so, like he couldn't hear the truth without shattering into pieces.

With that admission, the pressure behind his eyes gives way the it always threatened to, causing Neil to press the heels of his hands down on his lids so hard that he sees stars – like that will stop anything. “I am weak,” he ends pathetically, his voice more watery than he ever intended.

To his surprise, rather than receiving any verbal comfort from his teacher, Neil feels a hand on his shoulder. Lifting his head from his hunched over position to look up, he finds Keating crouched in front of him with a regretfully tearful look on his face.

Without much else said, they fall into a hug, Neil finally letting tears cascade down his face silently save for a few hiccups as Keating sighs sadly. Despite the comfort he feels in this moment, Neil only cries harder when he realizes that he can’t remember the last time he hugged his dad, – maybe in the third grade when he twisted his ankle? – much less when he was allowed to cry in front of him.

After what feels like a lifetime, Neil finally pulls away from the embrace, rushing to wipe at his face and clear any sign that he had been crying even though Keating had just heard him doing it for several minutes now.

“Neil,” Mr. Keating begins as Neil’s still sniffling, “I gave that lesson because the world is a cynical place. While my job is to educate you on literature, it’s also my job to prepare you for the world outside of Welton. It will attempt to classify you as weak, and it will attempt to crush you just like the so-called weak characters in the book were crushed,” Keating explains on eye level, still crouching in front of him but with his hands resigned to being folded across his knees now.

“But that’s also why I liked your report on the book so much: because you took the cynical lesson I gave and rejected it. It won’t be easy, but I agree that the world doesn’t have to be such a horrible place if you don’t accept that as fact,” Mr. Keating continues. “So you may be weak, you may not be, but is that really how you should view yourself? Should you let the world’s standards define who you are?”

Neil was shocked about everything coming out of his teacher’s mouth as he just sat and listened. He had always taught them about thinking for themselves and forming their own opinions because the world will attempt to conform them, but Neil had never considered that Keating would intentionally take on the form of the world in order to test them. He had always thought he was weak, and it’d only gotten worse ever since he kissed Todd, but maybe it wasn’t so. Maybe Todd was right; maybe he was as brave as he claimed.

“If it’s any consolation, I don’t think you’re weak, Neil,” Keating says sincerely before rising from his crouched position to return to his desk. “Being able to bear Mr. McAllister’s class is proof of that.”

Neil snorts at the joke, glad to have a distraction from how wet and congested his face felt after crying. Keating did have a point since Latin class was particularly rough, but the help of Meeks made it manageable.

“Don’t tell George I said that, by the way. He would never let me live it down,” Mr. Keating adds after a beat, causing Neil to chuckle again. He was glad to be reminded that his teacher would still have someone on his side here at Welton even though the Poets were leaving.

They talk for a bit longer before Neil has to return to his room to prepare for dinner, at least long enough for him to not feel as embarrassed about crying in front of Keating as before. Right before he leaves the room, he turns back to look at his teacher one last time.

“I’ll try to write, if that’s okay,” he offers, not wanting to overstep his bounds if Keating didn’t actually like him as much as he pretended to.

“I would prefer nothing else,” he smiles warmly, causing Neil’s own to increase before nodding his head politely and exiting the room. Maybe he and Todd could write to him together from San Francisco; he had a feeling Keating would still want to be their friend even if their plan succeeded.

“Pitts, there’s no way that’s what you’re wearing to graduation,” Charlie laments incredulously from the doorway of their dorm room. To his left is Knox who’s already making his way past the threshold and behind him is Cameron who's too afraid of missing out to resist entering as well.

“It’s not like anyone’s even going to see it,” Pitts counters with an eye roll, leaning back on Todd’s bed next to Meeks. By now their sheets have been stripped and everything they owned was constricted to their bags which were near their dressers, but that didn’t stop the Poets from making themselves at home in their room.

“Still, a brown suit?” Charlie persists, finally closing the door behind them to light up a smoke. Before he can start the lighter, though, Neil plucks the cigarette out of his fingers and shakes it at him.

“You really want us to graduate smelling like smoke?” he asks rhetorically. Usually he didn’t have a problem with it, but Neil figured they should be at their best for today.

“Ugh, fine Nolan,” Charlie kids as he takes the smoke back to return it to its pack, shoving it in his breast pocket before leaning back on the radiator next to the window.

“Wait, why do we always convene in my room? You and Cam are roommates too,” Neil points out as he looks around his and Todd’s room which has been fully taken over by the Poets yet again.

It wasn’t actually an issue besides the burn marks on the wooden flooring from the many rushed times they attempted to put out their cigarettes before adults walked into the room, but Neil was jittery and wanted all the alone time with Todd possible to go over their plan. He was still struggling to grasp that today was the day that he and Todd were going to run away, and talking to the Poets as if nothing was amiss wasn’t helping at all either.

“Have you seen Charlie’s side of the room? A total pigsty; I made my peace with it ages ago,” Cameron sighs from Neil’s bed next to Knox. “If I die young, it’s because I got some kind of mold poisoning from him.”

The rest of them laugh at the comment while Charlie rolls his eyes dramatically, not having much of a defense against his messiness. After a few beats, Neil’s eyes land on Pitts and Meeks to silently ask why they don’t ever meet in their room.

“Well, our room is–” Meeks starts to explain before he’s cut off.

“We just don’t want you in our business, so we come over here,” Pitts explains simply, causing the rest of them to laugh at his bluntness compared to Meeks’ attempt at delicately explaining it.

“Hear that Todd? We’re too clean and open for our own good,” Neil jokes, trying to subtly see if Todd was in the moment or if he was staring off into space like he had been doing more and more recently.

Todd merely smiles and shakes his head in good nature, the rest of the Poets laughing along. While Knox opens his mouth to add onto the banter, he’s interrupted by a muffled voice outside.

“Boys, you have ten minutes before the ceremony begins,” some administration warns the corridor of students. Shit, they were running out of time. Neil’s about to herd the group of Poets out of the room so he can rehash the plan with Todd before Meeks speaks solemnly.

“I’m sure gonna miss you guys,” he says genuinely, making Neil’s heart hurt that he’s not joking like the rest of them usually are. This really was their last time seeing one another, wasn’t it?

“Me too,” Todd agrees in a quiet voice before anyone like Charlie or Knox can make light of the situation. Everyone is solemnly silent for a few beats before it’s finally broken.

“Oh, come on fellas, there's no reason to look like your dog was just shot. We’ll still see each other during the holidays; I’ll host and everything,” Charlie offers, trying to wave off the sadness stifling the air. The idea of spending their holidays in Charlie’s mansion did sound nice.

“And we can write each other too,” Neil tacks on, feeling guilty about how he and Todd most likely wouldn’t be able to make it to those celebrations.

A few more despairing moments pass before Neil snaps out of his self-pitying stupor. “Alright, you guys have to go get in your gowns. Or at least Pittsie does if he doesn't want everyone seeing his brown suit,” he says in his best attempt at a light tone, regretful that he has to close their final moment up so abruptly.

Charlie’s the first one to move after their short bout of chuckles at Neil's comment, pushing off of the radiator to make his way to the door. Before he exits, he turns to Neil and gives him his sly half-smile as he extends his hand out for a handshake.

Neil merely laughs at this formality, tugging on his hand to pull him into a hug instead. Charlie laughs along with him as he returns the embrace, clapping him on the back until they finally break apart.

As if some unsaid rule was broken by their embrace, all of the Poets start hugging and saying their goodbyes to one another. It adds a solid minute or two before they’re finally filtering out of the room, but Neil can’t bring himself to care as he wipes away the tears forming in the corners of his eyes as subtly as he can while closing the door.

“Alright, now that they’re gone,” Neil chuckles out wetly, Todd laughing along since he was also sentimentally distraught, “we’ll get ready and hide our bags in the bush near our bikes. That way we can take off immediately after the ceremony, yeah?”

“Sounds good,” Todd agrees, wasting no time getting his graduation gown out to put it on. Neil mirrors him, almost vibrating with his nervous energy as he zips up the black gown over his suit.

Peeking out the hallway once they’re ready to make sure none of the Poets are passing by, Neil heads out with Todd on his heels to the area they were discussing. Fortunately, getting there undetected is fairly easy since Welton’s staff is too focused on getting the graduation ceremony ready to patrol the hallways like they usually do.

Once they’re hiding their bags behind the bushes, Neil has the sense to laugh at himself. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“Me either,” Todd admits, looking a bit queasy but also managing a small smile. The next second, he’s handing a graduation cap over to Neil. “Put this on and we’ll go join the Poets before they notice we’re missing.”

Neil nods at his instruction, working to put his cap on as he responds. “I gotta go do something real quick, but I’ll meet you back at the main hallway.” Although there seems to be a question in Todd's eyes of what he needed to do, they split up once they're ready without another word.

Stalking through the halls alone, Neil's careful to not be caught as he carried out a plan of his own. By the time he’s done and approaching the area he said he'd meet Todd at, the administrator is gathering the senior boys to take them to their seats in the chapel. Neil falls into line easily, his briefly missing presence never being noticed.

From there, the rest of the ceremony is a blur for Neil. This day had been one he had been anticipating ever since he was in Kindergarten, but now it was slipping through his fingers like sand since it felt like he was in a new place every time he blinked. One second they’re in the main hallway joking around, and the next they’re in the chapel listening to Nolan give a lengthy speech. One second he’s looking at the upcoming seniors doing his old job of holding the banners of Welton’s four pillars, the next he’s walking up to the stage after hearing his name called. One second he’s catching his father’s unreadable face from the crowd, the next he’s back in his seat trying to process that he now had his diploma in his hands.

Once the graduation ceremony finally concludes, there’s nothing Neil wants to do more than bolt out of Welton’s doors to get closer to running away from his fate, from his father, but then there he is, coming closer and closer.

Neil attempts to make eye contact with Todd to let him know that they need to go now, but he loses him as he’s swallowed up by the other students on their way to reunite with their families.

“Neil,” his father says firmly, snapping his head away from his search to find his dad practically in front of him now. “Well done. I know graduating from here wasn’t an easy task, but I expected nothing less of you.”

“Thank you, father,” Neil manages to smile at his dad despite realizing that all of his compliments were often convoluted or backhanded.

“Really Neil, it’s just wonderful,” Neil’s mother gushes, pulling him down to kiss him on the cheek.

“Oh come on, mom,” he says sheepishly as he feels a blush creep over his face despite his smile, a bit mortified that any of the Poets could be witnessing this right now.

With a smile frozen to his face as he looks at his parents proudly beaming at him, Neil’s struck with the weight of what he’s about to do. He was about to leave his mother and father, most likely forever since he doubted they would welcome him back with open arms after pulling a stunt like running away. This would be the last time he ever sees them if he’s successful in his plan.

So he does the most shocking thing to his father: he hugs him. Perry men do not embrace, but his father hardly has time to gather what’s happening before Neil is wrapping his arms around him. His dad stumbles at first, but after a few moments of Neil just holding on, his arms confusedly come down to return the embrace.

Before that hug can last for too long, Neil is pulling away from his father and hugging his mother. He holds onto her for longer since he needs to get the wetness out of his eyes before facing them again.

“Neil, wh–”

“Thank you both for all of the sacrifices you made to get me here. I know it wasn’t easy for you,” Neil cuts his dad off by thanking them. No matter how much contempt or disdain he harbored for his parents, he would always love them. Besides, Mr. Keating was right; attending Welton was incredibly privileged, and it’s most likely part of the reason The Academy of Art College accepted him in the first place.

“Th-thank you son,” his father stumbles to say, not used to Neil being so grateful. Neil feels a bittersweet smile take over his face at that, figuring he should have been more appreciative even if his life was hell most of the time.

“Well,” his dad clears his throat after a few seconds of silence, “we should be heading out soon if we want to make it to the camp on time.”

Catching Todd’s eyes from across the chapel as his father speaks, Neil sees him nod subtly to indicate that he’s ready to go. Neil tries to reciprocate the signal without being too obvious, tucking his chin down minutely before returning his gaze to his parents.

“Of course. If you’ll excuse me mother and father, I have to use the restroom before we go,” Neil tries to pardon himself, starting to slide away before his dad grabs onto his arm.

“You know that this doesn’t change anything, right Neil? You still have to go to camp over the summer,” his father points out, his eyes boring into him as he reminds him of his fate. Because of course he assumes that Neil was only being so kind because he thought it’d get him out of his punishment.

“Yes sir. I’ll be ready to go once I go to the bathroom,” Neil reassures, his dad eventually releasing his arm after a onceover. Giving them one last small smile, Neil starts to wriggle his way through the crowd out to the entrance of the chapel.

Giving one cautionary glance back before he leaves the room, Neil feels his gut drop when he sees his dad across the crowd moving to follow him despite his believable excuse to break away. Shit. Maybe acting so weird with the whole hugging thing tipped him that something was off.

But Neil didn’t have time to contemplate why his dad was coming after him, just to react. Pacing through the halls to go to where he and Todd had hid their luggage, Neil tries not to panic as he eventually hears footsteps following him, though they are distant.

Once he’s outside, he sees Todd’s nervous expression melt into one of relief. “I was wondering where you were–”

“Todd, this isn’t going to work. My dad is following me for some reason,” Neil says hurriedly as he shucks off his graduation gown and throws it behind the bush, feeling guilty cutting Todd off and causing his concerned expression to return.

“What? Can’t we just ride our bikes out of here now?” Todd asks back just as quickly, mirroring Neil as he takes off his gown and gets rid of it.

“He’ll catch us in his car if we do that,” Neil closes off immediately. Sparing a glance through the window of the door he just came through, he sees his dad at the end of the hall quickly advancing to the exit. “Shit, I have an idea. Grab your bags.”

“What? What is it?” Todd asks with a rising panic in his voice, grabbing his bags obediently despite not knowing what the fuck Neil had planned.

“Just follow me,” Neil says, feeling out-of-body as he bundles his luggage together so he can walk through the parking lot faster. He hears Todd wordlessly follow him despite all of the questions which must be raging in his mind right now.

Luckily, Neil finds what he was looking for almost immediately. Opening the back door of his dad’s car, Neil shoves his luggage in. “Put your bags back here,” he instructs, still not processing what he was doing even though he was in the midst of it. It was like his brain was on autopilot.

“What the fuck, Neil? Who’s car is this?” Todd asks in a bewildered and hushed tone, faltering for a moment.

“Neil!” a voice sounds from the building urgently. Looking over his shoulder, Neil sees his dad emerging from Welton and attempting to close the considerable distance he had put between them.

That exclamation seems to jolt Todd into action, causing him to shove his bags into the back and run to the passenger’s side without further questions. Sliding into the car, Neil thanks whoever above that his dad was always so predictable when the keys fall out of the sun visor as he flips it down.

“Get back here, young man! Or you’ll be in military school for the rest of your life!” his father yells as he makes his way closer, finally entering the parking lot now. Neil almost snorts at the empty threat as he starts the car; his dad really had nothing else to take away from him.

“Buckle up,” is all Neil can manage to say before he’s backing out of the parking spot like a madman, turning and peeling out of the lot right before his dad can make it to the car. For once, he’s thankful that his dad was so strict since his driving lessons miraculously made it so he didn’t hit another car during the escape.

Seeing his father screaming unintelligible words in the rearview mirror, Neil feels a deep pang in his gut at what he just did despite the adrenaline seizing his bones. What the fuck was he doing?

As if he could read his mind, Todd mutters “I can’t believe you just stole your dad’s car” after a few charged moments of silence, causing Neil to laugh despite the tense situation.

“What else was I supposed to do, let us get caught? Besides, I’m just borrowing it,” Neil counters, reassuring himself more than Todd about the whole situation. “Now tell me how to get to your house.”

Through some mangled instructions and sharp turns, they eventually make it to Todd’s home. The other boy quickly exits the passenger seat once Neil stops the car and enters his house to get what he needs.

They needed to stop at both of their houses in order to grab their last necessary belongings before running away forever. Neil almost wanted to scrap the idea entirely since he feared his father or the police would be hot on their trail, but they needed Todd’s savings and Neil’s car if this plan was going to work. Besides, Neil stole his dad’s car so he wouldn’t be able to catch them in the first place.

Neil spends a few tense minutes inside of the idling car before Todd bursts back out of his house and makes his way to him. Thankfully, he seemed to be mutually understanding of the constricting conditions they were under if his urgency was anything to go by.

Neil can hardly wait until Todd’s buckled before peeling out of the Anderson’s driveway, figuring they had no time to spare. Now that he’s not prohibited by relying on another’s directions, Neil speeds through the streets over to his house in no time.

Pulling up to his home, Neil is relieved not only to see that no one was there but also that the car in the picture he was sent on his birthday was still in the driveway. Parking as close as he can to his new car, he turns to Todd since he knows they still have no time to waste.

“You move as much of our luggage into the car as you can while I go and look for the keys,” Neil instructs as he parks, stopping the car and dashing out once he sees Todd nod affirmatively.

Checking the sun visor of the new car first, Neil shakes his head to himself when he doesn’t find the keys there. Of course that would be too easy.

Running to his house immediately after, he finds the spare key and lets himself in with very little complication while Todd rushes to transport their luggage. Honestly, his dad could have hidden his car keys anywhere, but looking over to his father’s study, Neil has a sinking feeling that he knows exactly where he stored them.

Letting himself into the room and finding the key to his father’s desk drawer the same way he had imagined he would for years, Neil unlocks the top right shelf of the desk. Looking inside, Neil almost wants to cry from relief when he finds the keys glistening at him as if in celebration.

But right next to the keys is the cloth-wrapped revolver he had imagined taking out time and time again, debating on whether he would let the cool metal press against the roof of his mouth or kiss his temple before ending it all. He’s paralyzed by the sight, realizing the same demon which threatened to possess him the night of the play never left but was rather dormant all this time, waiting for the perfect moment to resurface.

He’s not sure how long he’s been frozen just staring at the gun when the muffled squeal of tires finally jerks him back to reality. Looking out the window, he sees a car has parked to block his which his parents along with Todd’s are getting out of now. Shit, they had run out of time, all because of him and his pathetic spiraling.

Grabbing what he needs, Neil makes his way out of the house no matter what will face him when he does so. The muffled screaming he could hear in the study materializes once he slips out the front door undetected, Todd’s dad yelling at him in a way which instantly makes Neil's blood boil.

“-has gotten into you, Todd? Do you think Jeffery would ever disgrace the family name like this?” Mr. Anderson is screaming at him, his cruel tone serving to make Todd wince.

Neil’s about to intervene, ready to rip the other man to shreds as he sees red, before Todd shocks him by doing what both of them had only dreamed of: he stands up to his father.

“Since- since when have you ever cared? W-W-When have you ever given a shit about me?” Todd manages to yell back at his dad despite his stutters, flinging his arms up incredulously in question.

“Toddy, language,” his mother gasps from the end of the driveway, almost causing Neil to laugh at the absurdity of the response.

“Of course my language is what you care about,” Todd snarks frustratedly. His father opens his mouth to yell at him again, most likely something about backtalk, but Todd cuts him off before he can. “S-Seriously dad, you and mom can’t- you can’t even remember to get me a different birthday gift every year, so why care now? B-Because what? Your reputation is in danger?”

“What? That is absurd, son,” his father deflects sternly although he has nothing else to say to prove his point.

“You know it’s true dad! You- you know it,” Todd interjects in a pained voice as he points an accusatory finger at his dad, causing Neil to ache at his distress. No matter how much he wants to help, he remains planted by the front door since he knew this was Todd’s battle to fight, not his. “You- you’ve always regretted having me ever since you realized I would never be as good as Jefferey, that- that I couldn’t be Jefferey, so just- let me run away. I can be a mistake that you never have to remember, and you can have your perfect family of three. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to send you $5.98 in the mail so you can get your money’s worth.”

Though Neil isn’t entirely sure what the last comment is about, the phrase seems to be cutting if the stiff silence that follows is anything to go by. He’s in utter shock at this point that Todd’s said so much, and to his father’s face no less. Even if they ended up being ripped away from one another, even if their entire scheme fails and falls away into nothingness, Neil knew he would be proud of what they did today no matter the outcome.

Aware of the other eyes on him, Mr. Anderson only gets red at Todd’s claims that he never properly loved his son. “Enough of this nonsense; you’re being an embarrassment to the entire family,” his father angrily huffs as he advances to grab and pull him back to the car, Todd remaining motionless as if he's paralyzed now that he’s finally voiced what he’s probably kept bottled up for his whole life.

“Get back!” Neil yells before he knows what he’s doing, now making everyone else aware of his presence because he couldn’t accept the fact that he and Todd got this close just for it to crumble in the end. Looking down, he’s almost surprised to find that his outstretched arms are pointing the gun he grabbed from the study in Mr. Anderson’s direction even though he’s the one doing it. “Don’t touch him!”

Being shocked into silence, Mr. Anderson stops in his tracks and slowly backs up the closer Neil walks to his car. Todd is also stunned, but he voices no objections over Neil aiming a firearm at his father.

“Neil, for the love of god, put the gun down!” his father yells once he registers what’s going on, advancing from the Anderson’s car up the driveway.

Neil immediately gets the urge to shrink away from his father and detach like he always does when he’s being reprimanded by him, but catching a glimpse of Todd’s frightened face causes him to hold his ground. Todd was right when he told him on the rooftop that he needed to stand up to his dad; he would never forgive himself if he just rolled over and gave up now.

“Or what, dad? You’ll send me to military camp for as long as I live?” Neil cuts back, a shake in his voice as he realizes that he’s turned and is now aiming a gun at his own father.

He had never planned on this, only grabbed the revolver just in case, but here he was gunning down his dad. He felt like he was outside of his own body merely watching everything go down, not being able to fully register his mother's horrified gasp or what he was doing in the rush of adrenaline.

“You’re going to wish you were at military camp when I’m done with you!” he yells as he moves even closer, about ten feet away from Neil now. “I cannot believe this behavior from you, son! What has gotten into you? Is it- is it that Mr. Keating again?”

Todd had taken his own advice and stood up to his father no matter how hard it was for him, and now it was Neil’s turn to do so if they wanted any chance of getting out of here, if they wanted any chance at a life worth living. Staring down his quickly approaching father, Neil reminds himself of who and what he was fighting for – his future, his sanity, and the wonderful and insane and talented boy standing on the other side of the car.

“Stop!” Neil shouts as he only gets nearer, though his father calls his bluff and doesn’t listen. He only stops his tracks when Neil cocks the gun, realizing how serious his son was being despite the clear shake in his hands.

“C-calm down, Neil. I’m sure we can just talk this out,” his father attempts to appease, his voice thin and wary now that he's realized he didn’t have the upper hand anymore. Neil almost wants to choke on the irony that all it took was a gun for his dad to listen to him.

“No we can't! You can’t just- you can’t keep shipping me off when you don’t want to deal with me!” Neil yells, tears threatening to fill his eyes as he can’t help but ramble out what he always imagined saying to his father. “I’m not a kid anymore; you don’t have the power to keep making my life hell now just because yours was shit.”

Because, really, his dad was just living through him all this time. Neil wasn’t sure what his father went through exactly when growing up, but he knows that he was considerably poor and much less well off than they were now. But just because his dad went through that didn’t mean Neil had to devote his entire life to him. He was not going to waste his twenties in medical school just because his father was given a shitty hand at the same age.

“Neil, I- I’m sorry, okay? Now why don’t you put the gun down and we can talk about your future?” his father attempts to amend with his hands up in surrender, his shaking voice shocking Neil to his core. He had never heard an apology from his dad before, had never seen him this vulnerable; could he really be ready to talk about him attending art school?

But looking into his eyes, Neil sees only fear and anger rather than regret or understanding. If he put the gun down now, military camp would become his new home, no doubt. The offering was just there to placate him, to distract him while his dad cocked a gun of his own. Well, Neil wasn’t falling for it this time.

“It’s too late for that, father,” Neil says resolutely, causing his dad to regard him silently in utter shock once again.

Neil’s never been good at confrontation off-script; he stumbles over his words and says all of the wrong things. But if Todd had taught him anything, it’s that he needed to face the problems worth fighting over head-on even if he was scared shitless. That’s the only way he ever got anything of worth in his life, like his relationship with Todd.

So, taking a deep breath, Neil recites the lines he makes up for himself now, only being able to process this moment as if it were a play. “Now here’s what you’re going to do: you’re going to back that car out of the way so it won’t be blocking us, and you’re going to let me and Todd drive away. You’re not going to call the police because having us arrested would bring down the Perry and Anderson name, and I doubt that’s what either of you want.”

“This- this isn’t up for debate, young man; you’re going to military school and then Harvard!” his father yells, resisting his instructions vehemently despite his hands still being suspended from surrendering.

His father wasn’t going down without a fight, but neither was he, so Neil tightens his grip on the gun as he narrows his eyes at his dad. “It doesn’t seem like you’re in the position to be making decisions now, does it?” he asks rhetorically, causing his father’s anger to give way to a stunned silence.

Trying not to lose consciousness, Neil finishes what he was planning to say since all eyes were on him. “No one except us has to know that we ran away; both you and Mr. Anderson can lie that you shipped us off to military camp and then to Harvard or wherever you want us to attend once it’s fall.”

“You- you can’t steal my car,” his father weakly tries to counter once again, losing the fight in his voice and not being able to regain footing with a gun pointed at him.

Keeping one hand on the revolver and his eyes on his dad, Neil pulls out the documents he found beneath the keys from his pocket to show them. “It’s my car, according to these papers, so I don’t think the cops would pursue this case even if you called since I’m legally an adult now,” he says evenly, watching his father’s face morph into shock once he realizes he’s cornered.

Neil feels like an entirely different person in this moment, just reciting someone else’s lines to get through the scene; he would have to come to terms with the fact that this was actually him saying all of this right to his dad’s face, but that was for another day. For now, the imaginary degree of separation is all that's getting him through this confrontation. “And even if they do, do you really want to convict your own son as a felon and close off all of my future opportunities?”

After that question, it seems to hit both his and Todd’s dad that they could either let them run away in hopes that they would eventually come to their senses and return someday in the future, or they could get the cops involved and ruin both of their lives forever. Neil’s not sure if Todd’s parents would risk it or not since they already had Jefferey, but he knew his dad would never have him arrested since he was an only child, his only chance at a legacy.

“Okay,” his dad eventually agrees shakily. Despite having to hold a gun to his own dad’s head to get that agreement, Neil still can’t quite believe that his father is actually conceding.

Looking between him and Todd after giving in, his dad seems to be trying to put together a narrative. At this point, Neil didn’t give a shit if his dad thought he was a queer or whatever label he thought of. He was his son no matter how much both of them hated it in this moment, and he always would be. He wondered if that was punishment enough for his dad.

Without another word, his father walks back to the car with Todd’s dad slowly in order to move it. The lack of resistance now only serves to hurt Neil, his eyes looking over at his mother’s pitifully sad face while he waits for their path to be cleared.

“I’m sorry. I really am,” Neil says tearily as everything he just did starts to catch up to him, hoping that his parents understand that this was his last resort, that he would have never had to go to such extremes if they just listened to him in the first place. He had thought a moment like this would feel great, triumphant even, but the eerie obedience from his father now only serves to put a bitter taste in the back of his throat.

But his dad doesn’t acknowledge him or his apologies, simply getting into the car and backing it up to no longer block them in with a blank face. Neil keeps the gun raised since he can’t risk letting his guard down, not when they’re this close to escaping, but he almost wants to throw up at it all.

Once the car is backed up and out of the way, his dad gets out of it to merely watch him leave from the car door. Not being able to plead for his father’s forgiveness anymore since he’s sealed his fate, Neil slowly makes his way into his car, Todd wordlessly mirroring him.

“Hold onto this in case they try anything,” Neil instructs as he hands Todd the gun so he can put the key in ignition, still feeling out-of-body in this moment. Todd silently takes it, seeming shell shocked but never raising any qualms.

Eerily, Neil backs out of the driveway with no complications; no yelling, objections, chasing, or anything. For one last time, he makes eye contact with his father and mother who are inert next to the Anderson’s car. They’re teary but silent as he pulls out, and he knows that he’ll never be able to unsee that image as he starts to drive away.

Keeping his eyes on his rearview mirror as he creaks the car down the street, Neil makes sure none of them make a run for the landline once they’re far away enough. All four of their parents are uncannily still even as he exits the neighborhood, becoming small dots that disappear for good once he eventually turns down another street.

Neil stays alert for the next few miles anyway, convinced that either of their parents would speed up behind them at any moment and force them to come back home. Hell, maybe even their parents would call their bluff and have the cops pull them over.

It’s not until they’re on the highway and a safe distance from his house that Neil realizes that no one was coming. They had actually done it and escaped.

“Todd, I’m- I’m so sorry I made you hold the gun. You can put it in the glovebox now,” Neil apologizes once he comes to now that they were no longer in danger. Todd had only agreed to running away, not to getting mixed up in pointing a gun at his own parents, and the guilt of making someone as mild mannered as his roommate do that was eating away at Neil.

He’s expecting a litany of reactions from Todd: being upset and cursing him out for the idiotic move, being shaky and timid after all of the excitement, being livid and threatening to cancel the whole plan over the stunt he pulled, anything along those lines.

So Neil is doubly surprised when he hears a snort from the right side of the car, glancing over to find Todd hunched over in a fit of laughter as he stores the gun safely in the glovebox.

“Holy shit, Neil. You- you’re insane,” he struggles to get out through his laughter, causing Neil to laugh along with him despite the worry which previously took up his face. “I know we were debating it before, but now we can safely say that you’re not brave, just crazy.”

Feeling the lightness of actually escaping his father, of actually being alone with Todd despite all of the insane things they just went through, Neil can’t help but go with the cheesy response his brain automatically supplies. “Crazy about you,” he teases as he laughs, reveling in the way Todd turns pink at his unabashed flirting. Being so shameless with Todd was something he wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to, but moments like this makes Neil think he was starting to understand Whitman’s poem now.

“I just wish the Poets could have seen it,” Todd comments to divert from the compliment, seeming saddened already at their separation. Neil makes a high pitched noise and tilts his head which only serves to alarm Todd. “What? What is it?”

“Well, they kind of have,” Neil admits. Seeing his friend's confusion, he explains to Todd that he had Keating print out six copies of his play at the end of their meeting yesterday, and right before the ceremony began, he split up from him to sneak into all of the Poets’ rooms along with Mr. Keating’s office to leave them a copy. He had only titled the packets with “Our Story,” figuring the script would explain the rest.

“I didn’t include the scene between David and William or anything,” Neil rushes to reassure before Todd could react, “that’s just for us. But the rest of the story is there. I thought they’d want some kind of… I don’t know, explanation I guess. Or I thought that they deserved one at least.”

Todd’s silent for a long moment, clearly taking time to process the information. Neil had told their story to their closest friends and teacher – a vague and censored version, but still their story no less. He wasn’t sure if Todd would love or hate the idea at first, but he got more and more nervous as the silence stretched on.

“I’m sorry, I should have asked–”

“I think it’s perfect,” Todd cuts Neil’s rambling apology off, thankfully alleviating his stress of majorly fucking up. “I- I guess I was afraid that the Poets or Keating would blame themselves for us running away, so I’m glad you gave them something to deny that.”

“Yeah?” Neil asks hopefully, happy and relieved that Todd agreed and didn’t hate him for making such a big decision behind his back.

“Yeah,” Todd absolves with a smile, one which Neil matches easily. Returning his focus to the sprawling road before them, Neil feels a comfortable silence settle over them.

They could probably be silent for the rest of the drive over to San Francisco with all of the new information they had to process, but Neil wants to avoid thinking about how he abandoned his parents for now, their sadly resigned faces blankly staring at him. He just wants to revel in the fact that he and Todd had somehow succeeded in their batshit crazy plan through making it even crazier.

“You know what would piss my dad off?” he asks with a small smirk on his face. He feels Todd’s eyes land on him in question, seeing a smile form on his face in anticipation in his peripheral vision. “Listening to the Broadway radio station he always hated in this car.”

Todd laughs at his statement, nodding along at the sentiment. “Yeah, I’m sure that theater music being the first thing to play in his new car is exactly what he wouldn’t want.”

With that confirmation, Neil turns on the radio and adjusts the dial until it lands on the numbers he always wished his dad would leave the radio on when he’d ride in the car with him. They catch the station when it’s on the tail-end of an ad, so they sit listening to that before the radio host announces the next song: “Somewhere” from West Side Story .

Neil and Todd’s heads immediately whip to look at one another at the news, smiles and laughter breaking out across them at the coincidence. Almost as if the universe saw the regret Neil was battling with for leaving his parents behind, this was some kind of message that it had to be done.

Smiles stay plastered to their faces as the radio croons out the song they had heard for the first time together months ago, but to Neil’s surprise, he finds the road getting blurry as tears build in his eyes. He blinks them away and tries his best to wipe his tears subtly, but then he looks over to see that Todd is silently crying too.

Neil laughs, albeit wetly now through his tears, and Todd does the same once they realize how ridiculous the situation is. “ There's a place for us, / Somewhere a place for us, / Peace and quiet and open air / Wait for us, somewhere,” Tony’s voice sings longingly through the speakers as they laugh.

All at once, Neil realizes that he cried to this song in the theater so long ago because it was like him and Todd. It seemed so impossible all along that there would be a place where they could be themselves, where they could be together, but that just meant that they needed to make the somewhere they longed for. And here they were, speeding down the interstate towards that place now.

Not having the words to voice all of that, though, Neil opts to lean over the gap between them to kiss Todd since the highway was fairly empty at the moment, hoping the action alone would convey just what he was feeling. Todd meets him halfway, and the kiss is chaste, barely even there, but it warms Neil up insurmountably. The flustered smile they share afterwards gives Neil hope that Todd understood just what he was thinking.

Focusing on the road with a smitten smile now, Neil rests his hand on the center console between them as he lets the song wash over him as Tony and Maria sing in unison. “ There's a place for us, / A time and place for us, ” the couple serenades as the music crescendos, causing Neil to reflect on the afternoon they just had once again.

He and Todd had run away, had somehow managed to escape their fates, and though it wouldn’t be easy, they were in charge of their own lives now. Despite it all, they were on their way to San Francisco to make their own time and place – Neil needed to pull over to get a map soon, but for now, he was happy with sitting in the song next to his somebody.

Right as the song talked about holding hands, the two lovebirds singing “ Hold my hand and we're halfway there. / Hold my hand and I'll take you there,” Todd’s hand hovered over Neil’s, only their pinkies touching and wrapping around one another.

Neil almost wants to burst out laughing at how small the intimacy is given that they just kissed, but he wouldn’t be able to get a laugh out anyway with how much his chest swelled with fondness for the other boy.

And Neil knows that it wasn't just fondness he was feeling, knows that he loves Todd now no matter what the insistent voices in his head said, – Keating was right that love was as improbable as it was illogical, seeing as how it made Neil crazy enough to gun down both of their parents – but he doesn’t say it now, afraid of breaking the moment.

Feeling Todd’s pinky squeeze his as the song comes to a close, Tony and Maria singing wistfully about somewhere, Neil’s sure that Todd loves him too. Besides, they would have a lifetime to tell one another all about their love anyway.