Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Todd hears it when Neil shoots himself.

He wakes suddenly, jolts upright in bed with a racing heart and panicked breaths, and he knows, somehow, deep in his marrow, that Neil’s dead.

There’s a lake of dread sitting in his stomach, deep and unmoving, and he looks across to Neil’s empty bed. Feels the water within him start to stir at the sight of the flat sheets. He thinks he can smell the smoke from a gun, can still hear the crack of the pistol in his head, and his fingers itch to reach out, to connect with Neil, to fist tight into the meat of his arm and hold him close.

He watches the bed for a couple of minutes, somehow expecting Neil to materialise there, tears pricking in his eyes at the emptiness of it, before he swallows, pulls back the covers of his own bed and stands up.

He doesn’t know what to do. He knows the Perrys’ phone number, so he could sneak down and call them, check that Neil is okay. Check that it’s all just an overactive imagination and the suffocating loneliness of an empty room that has him feeling this way. It might make Neil’s father angry, but there’s a chance he’d be able to hear Neil’s voice, perhaps.

He could go see Charlie, he thinks, knock on his door and sob until it opens, weep pathetically into his shoulder and ask him to tell him that he’s wrong, and silly to worry, and that of course Neil’s fine. But he and Charlie have never been close like that, not like he and Neil are - Charlie wouldn’t be cruel, but he might not be so kind about it all.

Todd’s also scared, truly, that anything he does might prove himself right. Mr Perry might answer the phone, and go to find Neil, and instead find him dead in his room. He might stumble upon a distraught Charlie who’s only just found out about the death of his oldest friend. If Todd does nothing, then Neil stays alive. If Todd does nothing, everything will be fine.

And Todd knows that there’s no way Neil’s actually dead. That he’s had a bad dream and nothing more, that the intensity of his pain doesn’t actually mean anything. But his heart keeps thundering in his chest, and he can’t shake that sense of finality from behind his eyes.

He does the only thing he can really make sense of, and climbs into Neil’s bed, screwing his eyes tightly shut and his fingers into Neil’s pillow, and begs for sleep.

-
The next morning, Neil is dead.

Todd vomits into the snow, and runs to the dock, and is desperate to be away from the hands of his friends. They feel rough on him through the fabric of his coat, and they’re not what he needs, because he needs Neil. He screams Neil’s name into the air, stumbles into the slush, feels that agony rip at his insides, and tries to ignore the fact that it's the same agony he’d felt last night.

He gets to the dock, drops to his knees, and the wood hurts beneath him. His knees jolt with pain, and he thinks: good. He thinks that he never wants to not hurt again. He wants to carry Neil’s pain with him for always.

He sits there sobbing, eyelashes turning white with snow, and waits. He’s not sure what for, but he sobs, and waits, and hopes. Maybe Neil will come back if he waits by the dock long enough. Maybe he will smile at Todd again.

His fingers turn cold, and eventually Charlie is beside him, drawing him into his shoulder, and Todd has cried so much it feels like nothing but dust is coming from his eyes. But he presses his face into Charlie’s neck, and lets himself be held.

Eventually, minutes later, hours later, Todd’s not really sure, he’s taking slow steps back to his room, with the other boys behind him. They’re all remarkably calm, stoic where Todd is distraught, and he thinks it’s ironic, that this is the first time he’s ever been louder than them. Neil would be proud, but Neil will never know.

They take him to his room and put him back into bed, but it’s his own bed, this time, and they press his head down gently into the pillow and bring the blankets up around him. They look at him with such sadness that he feels pathetic.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, pressing his eyes closed. “You all lost him too, I’m-.” He breaks off, swallows a sob, and it’s Meeks who speaks.

“Don’t apologise. Please.”

Todd opens his eyes. They’re all watching him, their own eyes wet with tears, shoulder to shoulder around his bed. He nods. He understands what they’re not saying.

Charlie smiles, sadly. “Lessons are cancelled today, and they’re doing some kind of assembly this afternoon. But I’ll stay here with you, okay?” When Todd nods, he continues. “We’ve got to take care of each other, you know?”

He goes to sit on Neil’s bed, the sheets still messed up from where Todd had slept there the night before, but before he does, Todd lets out something like a whimper. Charlie straightens, realises his mistake and looks at the others. Todd curls in on himself, faces the wall, and feels himself crying again. Imagines that he'll never stop crying himself to sleep.

The bed dips as Charlie sits beside him, and he hears a murmured, “Go on. I’ll see you all later.” The footsteps of the others leaving follow, and then a hand is on his shoulder. “Cry all you need to,” Charlie says, voice soft. “Try to get some sleep, I think. I’ll be here.”

And Todd feels the rubbing of Charlie’s thumb, the delicate swipe of it up and down, up and down, soothing in a way that shouldn’t be possible. And he cries himself to sleep.

-

He blinks awake several hours later, and for a few moments, he is alive again in a world where Neil is, too. Seconds tick by where he’s not in agony, where his best and first friend isn’t dead, and where his best and first friend didn’t feel so hopeless and alone that he took his own life.

Reality arrives a moment later, and he stuffs his fist into his mouth to stop himself crying out. He’s facing the wall, and he leans forward, presses his forehead against the cold paint. Squeezes his eyes closed again, wills himself back to a sleep where he doesn’t have to feel so vividly.

“Todd? Are you all right?” It’s Knox’s cautious voice, the creaking of a chair as he stands and steps over to Todd’s bed, and he realises that the others have been taking turns watching him sleep. They must be worried he’s going to try to follow Neil to oblivion. The thought had certainly occurred to him, out in the cold. It still occurs to him now, even though he has no intentions of rushing into anything. He wants to sit with his sadness, and to sit with Neil’s loss for a while.

Knox sits on his bed, and Todd takes a breath in, before opening his eyes and turning to face him. His eyes are wet and his nose is running, and he must look something of a sight. He sits up, rubs at his face with the back of his hand, and asks, “How long have I been asleep?”

Knox glances at his watch. “Four hours, I think. The assembly’s about to start.”

Todd nods, and swallows. “You should go. To the assembly. Be with the others.”

Knox furrows his brows, eyes filled with concern, and Todd takes a moment to really appreciate just how sad he looks. How deep his sadness is running. Todd knows he’s not alone in his grief, but he wonders if his own sadness is stopping them from feeling their own. He feels guilty for feeling so distressed.

“Todd, no, I’m here with you.”

“You should be together. For Neil, right?” His voice breaks on Neil’s name. Knox is kind enough not to say anything about that. “I’m just going to sleep again," he presses. "I’ll be all right.”

There’s a moment where they watch each other, and Todd feels a tear drop down his cheek. Knox watches it fall. “Todd -” he starts, but Todd, feeling brave, somehow, for once, interrupts.

“I’m not going to do anything stupid. I promise.” He takes a breath. “I’d like to be alone, I think.”

Knox turns this over in his mind, and Todd can all but see the cogs whirring. Eventually, he says, “I’ll come back after, okay?” and before Todd can reply, he’s being pulled into a firm hug. “We’re looking after each other, okay?”

Todd nods against his shoulder, and hugs him back. He wishes he’d hugged Neil more. He can only remember it happening a few times, and each time had been too brief. He can’t even remember what they felt like.

Knox leaves a moment later, sparing Todd one last glance as he goes through the door.

Todd drops his head down, lets his chin sit near his chest, and then looks across to Neil’s bed. No one’s made it while Todd’s been sleeping, and he climbs out of his own, sits down on the mattress, and grips onto the blankets. He feels the rough material between his fingers, and brings it up to his face. Presses his nose into it, longing to feel the heat of Neil in it. He could go into the wardrobe, he thinks, and run his fingers along the edge of Neil’s clothes. Remember happier days of a time he wore each one.

He sighs, drops the blanket from his face, and opens his eyes.

Neil is watching him.

Chapter Text

Todd stands quickly, fingers dropping the blanket and heart racing. He feels like he did waking up last night, on a desperate kind of high alert that he doesn’t know how to calm. He stands but is frozen, his eyes locked on Neil’s face, which is set in an expression of amused confusion. A thick eyebrow raised, a mouth quirked to one side, a dancing light behind his eyes. 

Todd’s eyes are fixed on Neil’s face, on the sharp lines of his handsome features, and he doesn’t want to look away, just in case Neil disappears.

And then Neil’s crossing his arms, and Todd’s eyes drop down, and he notices, for the first time, that Neil isn’t wearing a shirt. He looks back up, meets Neil’s eyes, and then Neil is saying, “What’s going on, Todd?” There’s mirth in his voice, a gentle teasing that makes Todd’s heart rise and then drop again. He sounds the same.

“Neil?” Todd asks, a question, but not really a question. “How are you - how are you here?” He sounds wretched, his voice weak from crying, and something in his words must worry Neil, because he drops his arm and steps forward.

“What’s wrong?” He says this with the same gentle concern that Neil had so often approached Todd with, the kind of concern that made it seem like he thought Todd was worth being careful with. He’s stepping forward, close to him, and Todd doesn’t know whether to step forward, and into him, to pull him into a desperate embrace, or to run for the door and throw himself into the frozen lake. 

He’s insane, he thinks, standing in the silence between them, waiting for the air to take Neil away. Grief has made him mad, and he’s hallucinating Neil, and he’s going to be sent away to a loony bin before Christmas. He drops back to Neil’s bed and presses his face into the mattress, smacks his hands against his head, and mutters to himself, “Stop it, stop it, stop it.” His eyes are shut so brightly that he’s starting to see white, and he thinks, I’ll stay here a little longer. I’ll just stay here longer and Neil will disappear, and I won’t get taken away from our room.

But then Neil speaks again, his voice close to Todd’s ear like he’s kneeling next to him, a soft, “Todd, Todd, what’s going on?” He sounds scared, and Todd jumps up again, presses himself against the wall near the door. Watches Neil closely, breathes heavily. 

Neil steps forward, palms out and open, and Todd holds up a hand to stop him. “Neil,” he says, more for himself than anything. “You’re not real,” he adds, with a nod to himself. He takes a breath, closes his eyes. “You’re not real,” he says again, a whisper this time, and he clenches his fists against his sides. “You’re not real, you’re not real, you’re not real.”

He stays there for a few moments, muttering to himself, willing the vision of Neil away, but then there’s a cold rush passing through his wrist, a swoop of ice that makes him jump and cry out. He opens his eyes, looks down at where he’d felt the sensation, and sees Neil’s hand lingering close to his own. He looks up, andNeil’s looking down at their hands too, his expression hard.

“Oh,” Neil says, before stepping back. “Dang.”

“Neil,” Todd starts, but Neil shakes his head.

Todd waits, and watches as Neil looks around the room. He reaches out and tries to touch his desk, and Todd watches, eyes wide, as his fingers pass through it. He watches as Neil holds his hand up to the lamp, and watches as beams of light pass through his palm. They piece it together at the same time, eyes meeting across the room. Neil takes a moment to really take Todd in. Something in how he looks must confirm something for him, because he asks, then, “How long?”

The question catches Todd off guard, and he takes a moment to answer it. “Less than a day.”

Neil nods. Looks away from Todd, crosses his arms, and then, as if surprised by finding himself shirtless, drops them again.

“Are you,” Todd starts, and then pauses when Neil’s eyes meet his once more. He swallows. “Are you real? Or am I hallucinating?”

Neil studies him for a moment, and drops his gaze. Todd follows it downwards, and notices for the first time that he’s not wearing shoes, either.

“I think I’m real,” Neil says, his voice quiet with a kind of anxiety that Todd’s not sure he’s heard from him before. “But then, a hallucination would probably say that, too.”

It’s a valid point, and Todd can’t help but huff out a laugh. Neil’s smiling, ever so slightly, when Todd looks up again. “I think I’m insane.”

Neil nods. “That’s understandable. But you’re not.”

Todd shakes his head, goes to sit back down onto his own bed, and drops his head into his hands. “I’m insane. I’ve been too sad, and now my brain is rebelling, and it’s making me insane.”

“You’re not, Todd. Although, true. This is complete madness, you’re right about that.”

When Todd lifts his head, Neil is standing where he was before, watching him carefully. Todd pauses a moment, looking up at him, allowing himself to really take him all in. He’s handsome, and whole, and so undeniably Neil. “You’re dead,” he whispers, and Neil’s eyes meet Todd’s with a strange kind of intensity that Todd can’t place. He swallows. “You died last night. Everyone’s at an assembly for you right now.” He sighs. “I woke up last night and I - I knew. I knew that you’d died.”

Their eyes are still locked, and Todd wishes he could read Neil’s thoughts. “Okay,” Neil says, eventually. “I don’t - I don’t remember what happened. But I guess I’m a ghost, now.”

Todd shakes his head. “This is crazy, Neil. That’s not possible.”

Neil steps closer. “I’m as freaked out as you are right now.”

Todd closes his eyes for a moment, before allowing himself something of a smile. “That’s not possible either.” When he opens them again, Neil is smiling too.

Only Neil would be able to smile moments after finding out that he’d died. Only Neil would be able to make Todd smile so soon after losing his best friend.

Neil moves then, and sits on his bed opposite Todd, which makes Todd ask, “How did you -? You just couldn’t touch the desk, how can you sit there?”

Neil shrugs. “How am I supposed to know what the rules are? I’m new to this too.” He says this with something of a laugh, and Todd wants to laugh too. He does. But he can see now a small mark on Neil’s forehead, and it makes his heart twist painfully in his chest.

He starts to cry again, tears falling unbidden, and Neil’s face turns to concern again. He opens his mouth to speak, but Todd gets there first. “It’s been horrible, Neil. It’s been so horrible. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do without you.”

He presses his hand over his eyes as Neil moves to sit beside him. “I’m sorry,” Neil says, and Todd can almost feel the shadow of his hands hovering slightly over him, wanting to comfort him but wary about what touching him will feel like. “I’m sorry, Todd, please don’t cry.”

The tears are falling even under his hand, and he wills them to stop, to be something like strong, but they keep coming. Neil is dead, he’s hallucinating his ghost, and he’s still got to live the rest of his life without him. 

He presses his hand in until he’s seeing colours beneath his fingers, and then pulls it back, blinking against the sudden brightness and hoping this is enough to stop the onslaught. He takes in a few shuddering breaths, and then turns to where the shape of Neil is still sitting beside him. Neil’s not crying when Todd faces him, but there are tear tracks down his cheeks, and Todd longs to reach out and brush them away. He doesn’t know what would happen if he did, but he’s aching to feel some kind of warmth under Neil’s skin, to feel the pulse of his blood against his thumb. He knows there’s no life there, because either Neil’s a ghost or a figment of Todd’s imagination, and neither of those options come with a beating heart. But there’s a part of him that feels like if he just pressed his fingertips, ever so gently, against the skin under Neil’s eyes, it would bring him to life again.

He doesn’t even realise he’s reaching out until his hand is halfway between them. He drops it onto the bed.

He sighs. “I’m going to lose you twice, aren’t I? Last night, and then when I get given a lobotomy.”

Neil shakes his head, eyes still glistening with tears. “Todd, please. I’m so sorry.” He takes a breath. “I don’t know how, but I’m here. You’re not insane, please hear me when I say that.” Todd watches his fingers twitch on his lap, and knows that they’re itching to reach out to him. Todd curses his imagination for the detail.

He swallows. “You really don’t remember anything?”

A moment passes, and Neil shakes his head again. “No. The last thing I remember is leaving school to go to a rehearsal.”

“What day?” Todd asks.

Neil thinks. “Two days before the show? We were supposed to be doing a run with all the light.” He pauses. “When did I die?”

Todd swallows. “The night of the play.”

Neil’s eyes bulge. “Oh, god, tell me it was afterwards, please.”

Todd fiddles with the hem of his shirt. He’s got no idea what you’re supposed to say to the hallucination of the friend you lost. How much you should tell them. “It was after. And the play was - you were - you were really good,” he says. He looks up. He’s struck, for a moment, with how handsome Neil is. “You were really good,” he repeats, surer.

This makes Neil smile, at least. “Yeah?”

Todd nods. “I knew you would be. You practised so much.”

“But it was good, right? On the night?”

Todd has to hold himself back from saying last night, Neil. You died last night. I watched you be the most alive I’ve ever seen you, and then you died.

He nods, instead, meeting Neil’s eyes. “You were amazing.”

Neil’s smile wavers then. It drops, slightly. “And then I died,” he says, the thought so out of the blue that it makes Todd’s breath catch.

He swallows down the lump in his throat, and when he speaks, he’s quiet again. “And then you died.”

Neil doesn’t say anything for a few moments, and they both sit, watching each other with the kind of ease that was so prevalent in their friendship. Todd can feel Neil thinking, though, and then Neil says, “Do you know how?”

He’s nervous, now, his own fingers playing with the waist of his sleep pants. Todd’s only ever seen Neil anxious when with his father. He hates the sight of it.

He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know how much Neil had been planning, doesn’t know if Neil had ever thought about it before last night. Or if it was a spur of the moment, sudden decision brought on by one awful evening with his father. He wants to go back in time and analyse every moment he spent with Neil, to watch him  for any signs of hidden sadness that he’d missed. He wonders if he could have saved him. He must have been such a bad friend, to not see such extremes of sadness in Neil.

He doesn’t know if this Neil, his imaginary Neil, suspects how it all ended. He doesn’t know how he would react. He wants to tangle his fingers through his hair.

“No,” he says, eventually. “They didn’t say.”

Neil nods, and Todd doesn’t think he believes him. But if he’s sprung from Todd’s brain anyway, then he supposes that makes sense. 

“I’m sorry,” Neil says, with another sad smile. “For dying.”

Todd nods. One good night’s sleep and he’ll be back to normal. His brain will be back to normal, and imaginary Neil will be gone. “Apology accepted,” he says. 

-

They sit together in a companionable kind of silence as the light outside of the window starts to fade, and Todd contemplates whether this is the kind of thing he should tell someone about or not. He feels like he needs support in getting through this, whatever kind of mental break this may be - but if tells the wrong person then he’s toast.

What doesn’t help is the fact that Neil, corporeal or not, is handsome in a way that Todd’s been trying desperately to ignore ever since they first shook hands out by the courtyard. Not just handsome, really. Neil is beautiful, in the way that Todd might imagine Dorian Gray to be. The kind of beautiful that transcends, the kind of beautiful that starry-eyed school boys write weak-willed poems about. The kind of beautiful that would get Todd killed if he spoke about it.

And Neil is beautiful, but also shirtless, now, permanently, apparently, and how twisted and cruel of Todd’s subconscious mind to make that a key detail of his hallucination.

Neil is beautiful, and shirtless, and he still looks so solid beside him. Todd doesn’t know why he can’t reach out and hold onto his shoulder, because it looks like it should be able to. He clenches his fists beside him, and sighs.

“It’s going to be really hard to mourn you while you’re still here.”

He’s not sure why he says it, but it makes Neil’s head snap up to look at him. Todd can feel the intensity of his gaze, can feel his eyes moving over his cheek. 

“I know you’re in my head, and that ghosts aren’t real. And maybe this is - this is a way to cope, or something.” He takes a breath as Neil shifts closer to him on the bed. “But I don’t know how this will help.” 

Neil takes a breath, although he doesn’t really, because he can’t breathe, and Todd looks up as -

The door opens, and Charlie is there, face wet and eyes shining. He looks as wrecked as Todd feels, and Neil’s eyes widen at the sight of him in the doorway.

Charlie smiles, small and sad, and steps into the room. “How are you feeling, Todd?”

He doesn’t look at Neil, because Neil is in Todd’s head, but there has still been a flicker of hope in his heart that Charlie would see him too - that he would actually be a ghost that they could all see, and that Todd wouldn’t feel so alone in his madness.

This tracks, though.

Todd swallows, and shrugs, and glances, eyes moving for no more than half a second, to Neil, who’s looking down at his lap with an unreadable expression.

“I think I’m going insane.”

Charlie sits down on the bed, moves to the side of Todd where there is no shadow of his best friend, and wraps his arm around Todd’s shoulders.

“I know. I feel like that too.” He draws Todd in, presses their sides together, and Todd rests his head on Charlie’s shoulder, because he feels like that’s what he would be doing if he hadn’t spent the last hour talking to an imaginary Neil. “It’s okay, though. We’re going to be okay. Neil would want us to be okay.”

At that, Neil stands and walks to the corner of the room, an attempt to give them some kind of privacy, Todd assumes. He’s crossing his arms across his chest, and he looks smaller than Todd ever remembers seeing him. Todd’s head is still on Charlie’s shoulder, and he can’t stop watching Neil.

A few tears fall, and those come easily, and Charlie gives his shoulder one last squeeze before moving away. 

“I’m sorry Knox left - I told him to stay with you.”

Todd shakes his head, rubs at his eyes, still pitiful as always. “I told him to go. I wanted to be alone.”

Charlie nods, looks down at his hands, and says, “You’re not alone though, right? You have us. You’re not alone. Even if you’re by yourself, you’re not alone.”

Todd turns to look at Charlie’s face, feels his lip quiver at the sincerity of his expression. He spares one more glance towards Neil. “Yeah. I know.”

-

Charlie leaves, and Neil watches him go, eyes full and fists clenched by his sides. Todd isn’t sure whether he’s angry about something or is just desperately trying to hold in his sadness, but he aches to reach around him and soothe him either way.

The door closes, and Neil closes his eyes. “People are sad, huh?”

Todd nods, even though Neil can’t see him. Although maybe he can, through Todd’s eyes. “You’re our friend,” he manages to choke out, and Neil opens his eyes, then. Looks straight at Todd. 

“I do want you all to be okay,” he starts, taking a cautious step towards the bed. “I don’t want you to be sad forever. You shouldn’t -.” He stops just short of Todd, standing over him, a remnant of the giant Todd always saw him as. “You shouldn’t be stuck with me. You should be able to move on.”

Todd shakes his head, and stands, toe to toe with a ghost. “It hasn’t been a day, Neil. Let us be sad, please. Let us miss you.” 

Their eyes are locked, and Todd doesn’t think he’s ever looked so closely at Neil’s before. 

They’re as beautiful as the rest of him, obviously, a window to a soul that’s even more so. He can see flecks of grey around his pupil, a pale freckle on the left of his right iris, a detail he didn’t know his brain knew how to conjure.

Neil’s looking back into Todd’s eyes, he realises. Neil is watching his pupils expand too. 

They stay like that for a few beats, and then Neil drops his gaze to the floor. “I gotta find a way to prove to you that I’m here,” he mutters, to himself more than anyone. “That I’m not in your head.”

Todd tugs the sleeves of his shirt down and over the heel of his hands. “I don’t know how you could do that,” he says. “Seems like no one else can see you.”

Neil steps back, and looks back up. “Yeah. Why is that? Why can only you see me?” 

Todd shrugs. “The logical answer is that I’m imagining you.”

Neil shakes his head, runs his fingers through his hair in a move of frustration that Todd envies, and he starts to pace around the room. “But I’m not imaginary, and I get why you would think that, but I’m here.” 

It’s all still said to himself more than Todd, and he lifts a hand, uselessly, a vague attempt at reaching out that doesn’t come anywhere close to bridging the gap. Todd’s hallucination is almost having a panic attack, and Todd’s best friend is still dead.

Neil stops, suddenly, eyes triumphant. “I’ve got it.” He walks over to Todd and goes to grip his arm, but his hand slips right through and Todd jumps back, that freezing sensation sharp in his veins. 

Neil looks at his empty fingers. “Sorry. Sorry.” He steps back. Takes another breath that isn’t a breath. “I’ll tell you something you don’t know. About one of the others. And you can ask them, and they’ll confirm, and then you’ll know I’m really me.” He grins. “That I’m not in your head.”

Todd shakes his head. “But you are in my head, because you died. And ghosts aren’t real.” He blinks, finds that he’s crying, a little. He looks up to the ceiling, bites his lip, and looks back to Neil’s optimistic face. It’s hopeful. Why would a dead man’s face be hopeful?

He sighs. “Fine. What should I bring up to our friends completely out of the blue that I should, by all logic, have no idea about?”

Neil grins. Raises an eyebrow. Crosses his arms. “Ask Charlie about a girl called Patricia.”

-

Todd can’t bring himself to go find Charlie to make fun of him for something he shouldn’t know about right away. He feels like he’s on a ship that’s being thrown about in rough waters - his best friend is dead, the person who saw more in him and taught him to have faith in himself and believed in him is dead. He aches for Neil. 

But Neil is there. Neil is still everything that he was, and every time Todd remembers that he’s dead, he looks across the room, and he’s not, because he’s there, and he’s still Neil, and he’s still brilliant.

“If you are a ghost,” he says when he should be down at dinner but can’t bear to leave the only place he knows Neil will be, “then you’re taking this very well.”

Neil shrugs from where he’s sat on the floor, picking at the cuff of his pants. “I don’t feel dead. Hasn’t really sunk in yet, I guess.” He looks up. “How are you?”

Todd goes to sit by him, back pressed against the edge of Neil’s bed. “I’m awful, Neil. I’m so awful.” He leans his head back against the mattress. “But you’re also still here. I can’t make sense of any of this.” He sighs into the air above him. “I couldn’t stop crying all morning, and now you’re sitting next to me. And yet it still hurts.”

Neil’s silent in response, and for a few moments Todd waits, before lifting his head and looking over to him, halfway expecting to find him gone. Instead, he finds Neil looking something like happy.

“What?” Todd asks. “Why are you smiling?”

Neil shrugs. “I spent so long trying to find out how you were feeling. You would always shut me off. It’s just nice to hear you say it all out loud for once.”

It catches Todd, that thought. He’s not expecting it, and not expecting it from the mouth of a ghost.

“None of that matters, Neil.”

Neil shakes his head. “Why not?”

“Because you’re -“

The door opens, and Todd clenches his mouth shut at the sound of it. 

He’s expecting one of the Poets, but it’s Mr Keating in the doorway, and Todd scrambles to standing, aware that Neil is doing the same beside him. An instinct that’s lasted beyond life, if he really is a ghost.

“Sir,” Todd says, but Keating shakes his head and gestures at him to sit on Neil’s bed, as he pushes the door shut behind him.

“I hope you don’t mind me visiting,” Keating says as Todd settles on the edge of the mattress, Neil sinking down next to him. “But I noticed you weren’t at the assembly, and I wanted to see how you were doing.”

Todd’s eyes dart left towards Neil, another confirmation that he’s there, and he finds Neil watching  Keating with the same soft look he always did. He swallows the lump that’s starting to form in his throat, and says, “I’m okay.”

Keating’s face drops, ever so slightly, as if disappointed in Todd’s answer, and he sits opposite Todd on the other bed. “I’m afraid I just don’t believe that’s true, Todd. I imagine you must be very upset indeed.”

Under Keating’s careful gaze, Todd feels himself start to well up again, and he wills the tears to disappear. They drop, slow and then quickly, down his cheeks instead. He goes for a strange kind of honesty, when he replies. “I’m not really sure how I’m feeling, right now.”

Keating nods. “There’s no right or wrong way through grief, Mr Anderson. You are at liberty to feel however you feel.”

Todd wipes at his face, and asks, “Are you okay?”

This makes Keating pause, and it occurs to Todd that no one’s probably asked him that so far today. Everyone will have been so preoccupied with how the students were feeling that they forgot about the teachers.

He’s careful, when he chooses his words. “I am very upset, I shan’t lie. Neil was a wonderful young man with a very bright future, and I shall miss him greatly.”

Todd nods, wishing he could yell, he’s here, he’s next to me, but also I’m insane. Instead, he says, “I’m going to miss him too.”

Keating smiles sadly. “You were close.”

It’s not a question. Todd answers it anyway. “Yes.”

Keating leans forward, and presses his hand gently to Todd’s knee. “So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay.”

Todd’s lip lifts ever so slightly at that. “Robert Frost.”

Keating nods, and pulls back. “Indeed.”

“I like that description. Gold. That fits Neil.” He keeps his gaze resolutely forward as he speaks. He wishes this moment were just for him and Keating. He’s embarrassed that Neil should hear his grief so loudly.

Something brims in Keating’s eyes at that, and for a moment they’re both silent. He stands.

“Come speak to me whenever you would like, okay Todd? I mean it.”

Todd nods, stands to walk him the three and a half steps to the door. “Thank you, sir.”

He avoids Neil’s gaze once the door is shut again, crawls into his own bed, and faces the wall. The bed shakes with his sobs for ten minutes or so, until he falls asleep.

-

The boys check on him three more times before lights out, and each time Neil watches them with a closed off expression that Todd tries not to analyse. 

They all seem confused by how Todd’s acting, which makes sense, because Todd is also confused about how he’s acting. He knows he should be the picture of absolute devastation, but also Neil is there, cracking jokes every time Todd looks sad. The vision of him is too real, and it feels like sharp pieces of a jagged jigsaw inside of him that aren’t quite fitting together right - that Neil is dead, and that hurts like nothing else has ever hurt, and that Neil is there, still, anyway.

Just before he goes to sleep properly for the night, he goes to the bathroom for the first time that day - something he attributes to the dehydration that comes with crying a lot and drinking and eating virtually nothing. It is at this point that Todd discovers that Neil goes where Todd goes, apparently.

“I won’t look, don’t worry,” Neil whispers, back turned to him in the stall, and Todd rolls his eyes, bites back the urge to tell him that he doesn’t need to lower his voice, because he is a figment of Todd’s imagination until proven otherwise.

They get back to the room, and Todd says, “This doesn’t help your argument that you’re real, you know.”

Neil shrugs. “I don’t think so. I think it just means that my ghost is, I don’t know, tied to you, rather than this room.”

“Why?” Todd asks, exasperated. He drops onto his bed and rolls under the covers. “We only met a few months ago. Why not haunt Charlie, or your mom, or something. Why me?”

Neil’s expression falters, ever so slightly, and the lines around his eyes soften. Their gazes meet, briefly, and then Neil looks away, out of the window, and climbs up onto the radiator. It feels just like before.

“I don’t know. This is new for me as well, Todd. This is scary for me too.”

He’s speaking quietly, but Todd can still hear the quiver in his voice. He feels a sudden sense of responsibility for Neil, whether he be ghost or imaginary. Because this Neil is in pain, even if he doesn’t remember it, and Todd has an opportunity to help him hurt less. Maybe that’s why he’s here. Maybe that’s why it’s Todd.

He sits up, and looks resolutely at Neil, who’s clearly startled by the motion. “I’m sorry,” Todd says, and as Neil goes to protest, Todd shakes his head. “You’re right. I’ve only been thinking about me. But you’re here, and we’ll make sure that it’s not scary for you. You can finish Welton, with me, and hang out with the guys, with me. You can live more, through me.” He pauses, searching Neil’s face for a reply. “Okay?” Todd knows, logically, that he’s saying all this to himself - that this Neil isn’t real. But he wants to comfort him, all the same. Doesn’t want to make him afraid of the nothingness of death. Wants to give him, or perhaps himself, something to be hopeful for.

It takes a moment, but Neil’s slightly bewildered expression drops into one of clear gratitude. He smiles. “Okay. Thanks, Todd.”

Chapter Text

Neil’s still there when Todd wakes, even though Todd had been terrified that he’d disappear as he slept - as if sleeping through the night would somehow fix Todd’s brain enough to undo his visions. But he doesn’t, and Todd wakes, and Neil’s sat on his bed, watching him. Todd squirms under his gaze.

“Uh, hey.”

Neil gives him a tight smile. “It’s boring here when you’re asleep,” he says.

Todd sits up. “Sorry.”

Neil shakes his head. “Stop apologising, Todd. None of this is your fault. I was just saying.” He breathes. “I much prefer it when you’re awake.”

-

The boys all kind of gather round Todd at breakfast, so Neil isn’t able to sit next to him. He kind of hovers awkwardly behind Meeks on the opposite side of the table, and watches with apparent envy as they all eat. Todd doesn’t eat much, because he still doesn’t really have an appetite, but he takes a few small bites to stop the worried eyes of his friends.

Neil keeps giving pointed glances in Charlie’s direction, and Todd tries desperately not to react to them and in doing so accidentally give himself away. This doesn’t feel like the best place to bring up something that could potentially embarrass Charlie, especially not when Charlie announces, with a great deal of malice in his voice, “Nolan told me there’s not going to be a funeral.”

Todd almost chokes on his oatmeal, and Pitts exclaims, “What? Are you serious?”

They all watch as Charlie clenches his jaw and grits out, “Neil’s dad is so pissed at the school that they’re just going to have some kind of private thing. And we’re not allowed to go.”

Todd glances up at Neil, who’s watching Charlie speak with a mixture of fury and despair, eyes watering and fists clenched. He’s still shirtless, and in the context of the dining hall, he looks as ridiculous as he does handsome.

“That can’t be allowed, surely,” Meeks says, pushing up his glasses. “They can’t stop us going, right?”

Charlie shakes his head. “We don’t know when or where it is, and Nolan says we’ll be expelled if we go.”

Knox crosses his arms across his chest. “Well we’re still going, right? They won’t actually kick us out of school for going to our friend’s funeral.” He sounds so sure. Todd glances at Neil, whose eyes have dropped to his feet.

Charlie nods. “I’m sure Keating will know when it is, and he’ll tell us. He’s on our side, I’m sure of it.”

They all murmur in agreement, and Todd swallows at the miserable coldness in Neil’s eyes. How horrible it must feel, to know that your friends will not be allowed to mourn you.

He suspects that Neil’s parents won’t be telling anyone at the school when the funeral is, and that the only way they’ll be able to go is by following Mr Perry around until they end up at a churchyard, but he doesn’t say this. He eats his food and listens to the quiet outrage, and steals glances at Neil to keep making sure he’s okay.

They eventually quieten, and Pitts nudges his side. “Did you get much sleep last night?” he asks.

Todd swallows. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“We were thinking of going down to the cave tonight. Read some poems for Neil. Will you come?”

The others are watching him, and so is Neil, and the thought of it feels wrong - being at the cave without Neil. Although, of course, Neil will be there, if Todd is. Just not in the way that he should be.

He eventually shakes his head. “I don’t - I’m sorry. I don’t think I can.” His voice is dropped low, almost to a whisper, and everyone softens when he speaks, almost as if they were expecting him to say that. He avoids looking at Neil.

“It won’t be the same without you,” Charlie says. “But we get it. Come back when you’re ready.” He pauses. “Neil would want you there, though.” Todd’s eyes shoot up to where Neil has now stationed himself behind Charlie, and he’s right, of course. Neil always wanted him here, there, and everywhere, and Todd had never understood why. No-one in Todd’s life had ever wanted to spend so much time with him before. Neil smiles, sadly. Todd sighs.

“I’ll think about it,” he says, and Pitts slaps him on the back, his own friendly gesture of support.

Eventually they amble out of the dining hall, and as they do, Todd falls into step beside Charlie, who says, “I keep forgetting, you know? And then remembering, and it feels brand new all over again.”

“I know,” Todd says, wondering how close to the truth he can go. “It feels like he’s still here.” The shadow of Neil walks beside him, and he risks, “I keep seeing him everywhere.” That, at least, makes Neil huff out a laugh.

Charlie nods in understanding. “He was the best thing about this school.” Todd looks left, and sees Neil watching Charlie, sadly. 

Neil, the ghost, Todd’s imagination, says, “I wish I could talk to him too.”

They carry on down the hallway, and Todd takes a breath just before they part ways at Charlie’s bedroom door. Lessons are starting up again, and it’s been made clear that no amount of mourning will excuse anyone from class. “Charlie?” he says, bracing himself for what he’s about to ask. “Did you ever know anyone called Patricia, by any chance?”

Charlie looks up suddenly, alarmed, eyes wide. “Shit. Did Neil tell you about her?”

Todd takes a step back, and says, “Sorry, no, he just mentioned her once, I think. I don’t know anything.”

Charlie calms. “Jeez. Don’t bring her up again, please. Those nightmares will last a lifetime.” He opens the door to his room, about to step through the threshold, before pausing, turning back, and pulling Todd into an embrace. Todd waits a moment, before wrapping his arms cautiously around Charlie. “I know you both cared about each other,” Charlie mumbles. “He’d want me to make sure you were okay. He worried about you a lot.” He pulls back. “I mean it - come talk to me if you need to.”

Todd nods, slightly overwhelmed, and watches Charlie go into his room. 

It leaves Todd and Neil alone in a busy hallway, and the boys around him keep giving him pitying looks, and Todd meets Neil’s gaze. It’s intense, and it’s still beautiful.

They head back to their room, and as the door shuts Neil says, “Okay, do you believe me now? That I’m not in your head?”

Todd takes a breath, and nods. “It’s crazy. I still might be crazy. But I suppose I do believe you.” He rubs his hand over his face. “What does this mean, Neil? How are you here?”

When he pulls his hand away, Neil’s face is no longer pleased, but concerned. “Todd,” he says, stepping forward, slightly. “Isn’t this good? You don’t - you don’t have to miss me, because I’m right here, and it can be like it was. We can be like we were before.”

He’s earnest, and open, and he’s right, in a way. Todd’s best friend is dead but Todd can still talk to him every day, and surely that should be the best news he could get. But it feels wrong. It feels like Todd is stealing something that doesn’t belong to him. He sits down on the bed.

“Yes,” he says, slowly. “I’m not - Neil, I’m so happy to be talking to you. But what if - what if you’re stuck like this forever?”

Neil pouts, a fake show of upset that Todd sees right through, and says, “You’re trying to get rid of me?”

Todd rolls his eyes. “Never, Neil. But does that not scare you? The thought of never - I thought death was supposed to mean -,” he sighs, frustrated with himself and his inability to speak. “People talk about peace,” he says, eventually.

Neil picks at the skin of his elbow. “I don’t know, Todd. I guess it’s always been peaceful, with you.”

He’s not looking at Todd as he says it, and Todd’s not sure why. After a moment or two, Todd says, “Okay. Okay. You’re right. This is good.” He lets himself really think about it for a moment longer. A lifetime with Neil Perry.

In the few months of their friendship, Todd liked to imagine a future where they moved away together - bachelors in an apartment in New York, Neil acting, Todd doing whatever he fell into. Dedicated friends living happily together. He never mentioned this to Neil, of course. Didn’t think Neil would ever choose Todd over any of his other friends. But something like this future is in front of him, and while it’s selfish of him, to hold onto Neil when no one else can even see him, it’s a far brighter future than the one he’d woken up to yesterday.

“Yeah,” he adds. He smiles. “You’ll get sick of me pretty quick though, I imagine.”

Neil grins, and it reaches his eyes. “Never.”

-

Todd goes to lessons, and Neil follows him, barefoot and bare-chested, and promises to stay out of his line of sight so that he doesn’t get distracted. 

He promises this, but he doesn’t succeed. By halfway through math class he’s bored and trying to get Todd’s attention, muttering in his ear things like, “It’s not interesting now I know I’ve no use for this.” Todd rolls his eyes, pointedly looking at the board, but he’s amused by Neil all the same. He thinks he sees Cameron raise an eyebrow in his direction, and he wonders if he’s being too obvious. If it’s obvious that he’s being spoken to by a ghost. Or maybe he doesn’t look sad enough, he supposes. 

English is the last lesson of the day, and by the time they get there Neil’s practically running to the classroom. “Finally,” he says, voice still low, as if he weren’t a ghost. “Mr Keating will liven this day up.”

Todd wants desperately to remind him that Keating is grieving with them, and to ask him if he remembers how solemn he’d been yesterday. It’s as if Neil keeps forgetting that he’s dead, and that they’re all hurting from the wound of his loss.

Keating’s already in the room as they pile in, leaning against his desk, watching them all take their seats with a sad smile. 

“Boys,” he begins once they’ve all settled. “I know how very heartbroken you must be feeling right now.” He pauses, and looks to Neil’s empty desk. “In times of grief,” he continues, clearing his throat as he does so, “I often turn to poetry. Although I doubt you shall be surprised to hear that.” That sad smile, again. Todd looks briefly to Neil, where he’s stood by the window. He’s watching Keating with something like a dagger through his heart. “But today, I thought, perhaps we could all share our memories of Neil with one another. Fill our thoughts of him with the happiness of his life, rather than the sadness of his passing.”

It takes mere moments for hands to raise, and for people to take it in turns to come to the front of the room, and to tell their stories about Neil. It seems to be that everyone in the room loved him greatly, and they all relish the opportunity to tell others about their favourite Neil-based memory. Charlie tells a story about them attempting to build a canoe at ten years old, and how they’d ended up climbing out of the river following a dramatic capsize, picking frogspawn out of their pockets as they climbed up the bank.

Knox, with tears in his eyes, tells the room of how, when he’d failed his first ever test at Welton, it had been Neil who had made him feel better - who’d helped him study for the re-sit, and who had helped him pass with flying colours the second time. 

As story after story is told, Neil goes from standing, to leaning, to sitting on the floor with his arms wrapped around his legs, and while Todd is sure that he must be overwhelmed with how the lesson has gone, he can’t be sure whether it’s a good kind of overwhelm, or a bad. He keeps sparing him glances, and Neil looks, throughout, equal parts devastated and equal parts joyous, and it’s an odd mix that makes Todd’s stomach clench with concern for him.

As the lesson’s end draws nearer, Keating turns to Todd, and says, “Mr Anderson. Would you like to tell us about your favourite Neil memory?”

Neil’s head snaps up to look at him, and Todd flounders under the question. “Uh - I don’t know. We didn’t - we didn’t know each other very long.”

Keating leans his head to one side. “Come now, Todd. You were close. Is there anything you’d like to share? I’m sure everyone would love to hear it.”

Todd swallows, and looks back at a sea of expectant faces, and thinks he may have little choice in the matter. He stands slowly, trying to think of a meaningful memory that won’t - that won’t in someway betray Todd. He’s not sure in what form that betrayal would come, exactly, but he feels and he knows, marrow deep, that something about how his brain is wired for Neil would not be looked upon kindly by others. 

In truth, he could wax lyrical for hours about the time he spent with Neil, and the way Neil made him feel. Every poem, in its way, that Todd has either written or read since being at Welton, has been about Neil. Neil was so fundamental to Todd’s existence at Welton that there’s almost no point him being there without him. Neil had become, in a relatively short period of time, fundamental to who Todd was.

He knows this is not normal. He would not dare tell the wrong person that. There’s something about the tremor in his heart when he thinks of Neil that he - that he chooses to ignore. He’s not - he thinks he knows what it is. But he has to choose to ignore it.

He arrives at the front, faces the class, and says, “I remember helping Neil to learn his lines, for the play.” He coughs, squeezes his fists tight, releases them again. “We used to walk by the dock, by the lake. It was always very fun, running lines with him.” He catches Neil’s eyes from where he’s crouched on the floor, and looks away, quickly. “He always knew them, and he never needed my help, but… But I think he knew I liked helping him, so he’d pretend he needed to run them again. He was always -,” he breaks off, managing to suppress what would have been his voice breaking with emotion, and swallows it down. “He was always doing things to make me feel better.” A traitorous tear drops, but the room is still silent, and Todd is grateful. He’s finding, standing at the front of class, that he actually wants to be there. He wants to talk about Neil, even if only a little bit. “I never had a lot of friends, but he would go out of his way to include me in things. He was always doing that, thinking of other people, and running those lines - I thought I was finally going to be able to help him out instead.” He sighs. “I never saw him happier than when he was preparing for the play. I like - I like to think that he died with a little of that happiness still in him.”

Todd’s words are met with silence, and he realises, as he nods jerkily and walks back to his desk, that he wasn’t supposed to talk about Neil’s death at all. And that where everyone else had shared laughter, Todd had shared mostly about his own issues. 

He’s halfway expecting derision from his classmates, but when he turns, slightly, to cast a long eye over them, they’re all watching him with something like pride. Keating drops a hand onto his shoulder. “I think Neil would be very grateful to call you his friend. And you did very well in standing up today and telling us that.”

Todd doesn’t dare look towards Neil.

-

Back in their room, Todd is hoping desperately that Neil won’t bring up English, but at the same time needs to know that he’s okay - that hearing twenty of his friends mourn his loss by sharing all the things they loved about him hasn’t upset him too much. But the Poets follow him in, and take up positions at various points throughout the room. They’re quiet, contemplative, and it’s Cameron who speaks first. “That was nice, right? That was nice of Keating.”

There’s a murmur of agreement. Todd doesn’t know why they’re all here, but he’s enjoying their presence nevertheless. 

“I spoke to him after class,” Charlie says, and then, with a sigh. “He doesn’t know when the funeral is. Promised he wasn’t lying. So that’s a no-go.”

Knox shakes his head. “It’s not right, not letting us go. Neil would want us there.”

“Damn straight,” Neil says, voice soft near Todd’s ear, and the lack of sensation, somehow, makes him shiver. 

“What’s more,” Charlie adds, “his dad’s so pissed at the school that they’re launching some kind of investigation into what happened.”

Todd’s brows furrow. “What do you mean?” he asks.

Charlie shrugs. “I mean, I don’t know what exactly they’re going to investigate. But they wanna pin the blame on someone, apparently.” He drops his gaze. “They might come for us. After the newspaper thing, they might - we’d be an easy target.”

“Shit,” Meeks says. “Shit, Charlie.”

“Huh?” Neil asks. “Blame? Was I drinking, or something? Did someone force me to drink something that killed me?”

Todd clenches his jaw. He needs to find a way to make sure the others don’t say anything, to make sure they don’t -

“They can’t seriously think it’s our fault,” Knox says. “After everything? They must know how much we loved him.”

Charlie shakes his head. “I don’t think they care. I know Mr Perry certainly doesn’t.”

“I don’t understand,” Neil says, even closer to Todd than he thought possible. “Do they not know how I died? Is that why -”

“Neil,” Todd grits out, trying to stop him from speculating too wildly. His name comes almost unbidden, and Todd isn’t even aware he’s said anything out loud until he finds the rest of the room looking at him, curious. 

“Todd?” Charlie asks. “Neil what?”

Todd clears his throat, and thinks quickly. “Neil would want us to stick together,” he says, eventually, and the words sound lame even as he says them. They don’t mean anything. He should’ve been able to come up with a better cover-up.

Charlie nods, slowly. “Sure. Sure. So we need a plan.”

The rest of the group nods also, and waits, in silence, for Charlie to continue. Neil too has gone silent beside Todd, still in a way that Todd knows, somehow, is with the still silence of worry.

After a few moments, Charlie says, “I don’t have one, sorry, should have made that clear right away.”

Knox rolls his eyes and bats at Charlie' s shoulder. “What do we do if someone asks, then? If they ask before we come up with a plan? What do we say?”

Charlie thinks for a moment, before saying, “Tell the truth, just not the whole truth.” Todd freezes. “Tell them about the play, and Neil’s dad being awful. Don’t mention anything else.” Todd unfreezes as everyone nods their approval of this plan. He needs to get Neil away from everyone before they start talking clearly about what Neil did. He stands.

“Just gonna go to the bathroom,” he says, and he goes to leave, feeling the vision of Neil following behind. 

As he steps, Charlie says, “We’ll go too - go wash up for dinner, and stuff.”

They all stand then, and separate once they’re in the hallway again. Todd waves them off as he wanders to the bathroom, quietly wishing them luck for this evening. Meeks says, just before he gets to his door, “You’re welcome, of course, if you change your mind,” but Todd shakes his head. If he hadn’t been sure before, he is now. There’s no way they’ll all be reading poetry about Neil’s demise without at least once mentioning suicide.

-

“Why don’t you wanna go?” Neil asks, when they’re alone again in the privacy of their room. “To the Dead Poets Society. You love those meetings.”

Todd shrugs. “I loved them a lot when you were running them. I haven’t been to one without you. I don’t think I’d like it as much.” He’s following Charlie’s orders - it’s not the whole truth, but it is the truth.

“Are you ever going to go again? I realise it might be a lot, going tonight but you might -.” He pauses, looks up to the ceiling briefly. “I’d quite like to see another one. At some point. If you didn’t mind.” His gaze is still upwards. Todd nods, and Neil notices the movement, lowering his chin so their eyes meet again.

“We can go again. In a little while.”

Neil nods. Todd thinks he needs to find a way to tell Neil what happened - to break it to him gently, rather than have him find out through some flippant remark that Todd needs to re-explain later anyway. But he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to tell his favourite person that they were made so unhappy, they chose to end their own life. He doesn’t think this is the sort of thing that normally comes with instructions.

“Todd?” The tone of Neil’s voice suggests to Todd that it’s not the first time he’s tried to get his attention, and he snaps his gaze back, blinking a few times.

“Sorry,” he says. “What did you say?”

“I was just wondering if you’d found out how I died? All the stuff they were saying earlier, it really confused me.”

Todd nods in understanding. “Sorry, no I don’t know. I don’t - I don’t care to know.” No longer the truth. He’d always hoped never to lie to Neil.

He’ll come up with a way to tell him tomorrow, he thinks. When the stakes are low. When Todd is free to make sure Neil is okay after finding out.

Neil is clearly disappointed in Todd’s answer, but seems to trust him. “Okay. Well let me know when you do find out, please?”

Todd nods, gives him a small smile. 

A few moments pass, and then Neil’s saying, “Thank you for putting up with me, today. Sorry it’s going to be forever from now on.” His words contain laughter, and Todd smiles.

“I was really glad you were there,” he says. Back to the truth in that respect, at least.

Neil grins. “And I was proud of you, by the way. In English. For saying so much, in front of everybody.”

Todd feels his cheeks start to grow warm. He thinks carefully about his next words before he says them. “It was you, you know. You always made me feel braver.”

Somehow, Neil grins wider.