Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The year was 1974. Nixon was out of office. West Germany won the World Cup, to everyone’s shock. Todd Anderson was 31 years old. 

It had been over 15 years since Todd had first walked through the hallowed halls of Welton Academy. The graduating class of ‘61 was now no more than a framed photo, shamefully hung in the far corner of the display case, out of sight of new students. Better that, than them asking questions about the “in remembrance” line engraved on the plaque. 1974 was a year of change. 1974 was a year of new beginnings. And in the early fall of 1974, for the first time in 15 years, Todd went an entire day without thinking of Neil Perry.

It was a busy day. Todd’s son turned six next week. Todd had been taking extra shifts at the office, trying to save up enough to get the boy the bike he’d been eyeing in the shop window on the street corner for the whole summer. Todd refused to make his children’s birthdays anything less than extravagant. Of course, to make that happen, he had to make quite a few sacrifices. It was hard enough to get by as a family of four on one newspaper editor’s salary without the additional cost of Todd’s cathartic need to spoil his children. So there he was, walking up the long, winding stairwell of his apartment building after another mundane day of rejecting news stories about the closure of the bagel place on 24th Street that his coworkers seemed to be taking weirdly personally. Editing the words of others was certainly not as thrilling as writing his own, but writing had eluded him lately. The words tumbled over each other and felt meaningless and stale. He wondered if he’d used up all of his good words in his youth, if his trial run of creativity had come and gone.

He didn’t linger on that thought, turning the key in the doorknob of his dingy New York apartment. His place was nothing special, but still, as soon as he entered, he was enveloped in the loud and warm chaos of his family. Lenora Anderson - Todd’s wife of the past 9 years - turned at the sound of the door creaking, smiling sweetly at Todd before setting down her kitchen knife and walking over to give him a quick kiss. He mumbled a greeting to her when she pulled away from the kiss before beginning to shed the extra layers of his outfit and unlacing his shoes. 

“How was work?” Lenora asked, returning to her cooking. Her brown hair was in a ponytail, swishing gracefully back and forth as she walked the small distance to their kitchen. Todd opened his mouth to speak, but as he should have anticipated, he felt a thud against the side of his legs, little arms quickly encircling him. Todd adjusted his footing to avoid tumbling to the ground and crushing his daughter, Jessica, who was now clinging to his legs like a koala bear. He leaned down to greet her, pinching her cheek and ruffling her hair, which was his same shade of noncommittal-blonde. Jessica Anderson, however, unlike her father, managed to make it look darling. 

“Same as ever. Boring,” Todd answered, drawing out the word “boring” jokingly for Jess’ amusement. She giggled, which made Todd’s heart feel lighter. 

“I’m making lasagna,” Lenora started, looking back over her shoulder to smile at Todd flirtatiously. He could see a hint of frustration on her face, though, and gave her an inquisitive look. “If I’m being honest, I think I’ve bitten off more than I can chew here,” she admitted. Todd walked into the kitchen, noticing the layer of dishware and food that coated their countertops. 

“Well, I love your ambition,” Todd replied sincerely, collecting the scattered measuring spoons from the explosion of debris on the counter. Lenora was staunchly committed to making home-cooked meals every night, always dedicated to the idea of being the perfect homemaker like her mother. She would never admit that she didn’t have a knack for cooking. Todd didn’t mind indulging her, though he didn’t feel strongly about maintaining the perfect nuclear family image.

He and Lenora had met when they were young, both of their parents running in the same social circles, the circles which consisted of everyone bullshitting each other into believing they were more successful than they really were, and his parents bragging about golden-child-Jeffrey-Anderson. When they were younger, Todd had enjoyed Lenora’s company. She was much more talkative than Todd, but she didn’t mind how quiet he was. He’d spent many dinner parties in her bedroom, listening to her tell stories while he quietly assembled his selection from her massive collection of puzzles. Years passed, and they got older, and soon the two of them would spend dinner parties sitting in the front seats of Lenora’s Chevy, drinking whisky that Lenora nabbed from her parents’ kitchen, talking the way that old friends do until Todd’s parents would find them and take him home. 

Todd had never thought of her as a potential romantic partner, not until his mother reintroduced the pair at a mandatory family gathering a few years after Todd’s graduation from Welton, practically spoon-feeding the idea to the two of them. Todd hadn’t admitted to Lenora that he had never thought of her in that way until that moment, uneasily agreeing when she told him she always knew they’d end up together, even back when they were kids. At that point, it would’ve been too hard to back out of it. They went on dates, and Lenora told him about all the times she nearly kissed him in that Chevy, and he didn’t have any good excuse for why he wouldn’t propose to a beautiful, intelligent, kind woman who liked having him around, and so he did. Everyone expected it; it was the easiest outcome.

It wasn’t that Todd didn’t love her, of course. He had grown to love her more than almost anyone. Her presence was reassuring. She was smart, sincere, patient, and endlessly supportive. She put up with his anxiety issues and his tendency to be quiet and closed off. She was selfless and gave everything she had to their children. Todd enjoyed her company and enjoyed hearing her perspective on the world. He did love her. He knew he loved her.

“Stop cleaning up my mess, honey. I’m making modern art over here! I’m calling it… The Italian Mother,” Lenora declared, gesturing fancifully to the mess strewn across the counter as she spoke. Todd laughed.

“Why Italian?” He asked. As far as he knew, Lenora’s family came from Portugal. 

“Cus I’m making lasagna, dummy,” Lenora teased, turning toward him and flicking flour from her fingers onto Todd’s cheek.

“Ah! What’d you do that for?” Todd said with playful frustration. 

“Don’t question the Italian Mother next time, Todd.” She pointed a flour-covered finger at his face and wagged it back and forth.

“Oh, of course not. If the Italian Mother wants our counter covered in pasta sauce, who am I to intervene?” Todd poked back. Lenora smiled at him, wiping her hands on a towel.

“Go wash up. You’ve got city all over you.”

“I’ve got flour all-” Todd started, turning to walk down the hall.

“The flour is inconsequential!” Lenora called after him. Todd smiled to himself as he walked into the bathroom. His life was small and simple, nothing extraordinary, nothing extravagant, but he was content after all. He liked simple. Simple was safe. 

After a brief shower, Todd joined his family at the dining room table, leading them in saying grace before they ate. Todd was never sure if he believed in God, but he didn’t put up a fuss. It seemed more like a routine that he was expected to perform than anything else, much like his job, but he went along with it anyway. He led his children in thanking God - and Lenora - that they had food on the table, that they all were together, and that they were all safe and healthy. Even if God wasn’t watching them, Todd didn’t want to risk taking what he had for granted, assuming it would always be there.

Will rambled at length about his classmates and the projects he’d finished during class that day, his toothless smile making Todd smirk to himself with affection. William Anderson had never been shy, not in the slightest. 

“-then I told Mrs. Finch that I was gonna be the first boy on the moon, and she said people have already been on the moon, but I told her they were grown-ups, so I could still be the first boy. Right, mamma?” Will was talking with his mouth full, but Todd had never had the heart to tell him not to. Hearing his son’s long-winded stories was too precious to him.

“Of course, sweetheart. I’m sure you’ll make it up there one day,” Lenora answered with a sweet smile. Jess’ face was covered in red sauce from the lasagna, and Todd reached over to wipe her cheeks with a napkin, ignoring her muffled protests. The dinner went by in a haze, laughter and chatter about nothing filling the small room like the flickering light from the stubby candles sitting atop the centerpiece. The lasagna wasn’t half bad, but Lenora had definitely gone too heavy on the oregano. Of course, when she asked him what he thought, he said it was perfect. 

Once the dishes had been done, Will and Jessica were overdue to go to bed. Todd and Lenora traded off putting the kids to bed each night, and whoever wasn’t doing so finished the cleaning in the kitchen. The family had started eating much later since Todd started working double shifts, the kids refusing to eat without their dad. Hearing Jessica express that sentiment had made Todd’s heart melt. It was a small miracle that Todd Anderson had a family who cared that he existed. He wanted to be home more, of course, but he knew that wasn’t what his family needed from him. Jessica was put to sleep first, being younger and much more likely to draw out their nighttime ritual long past her designated bedtime. Todd creaked her door open, noting that she was sitting upright on her bed, her short legs hanging over the edge. 

“Hi, sweetie,” Todd said, approaching her and kneeling beside her bed. Her pink and purple comforter brushed against his knees. He flipped the switch on her night light, illuminating Jessica’s thoughtful expression in warm light. She clearly had something to say, and Todd saw himself in the way she pondered what words to use before she opened her mouth.

“Daddy, I feel so lonely when you’re not home,” Jessica confidently stated. Todd felt like she’d just slapped him across the face. Jessica hadn’t started kindergarten yet, and Lenora had opted to keep her home until then, meaning that she spent any time that Lenora was busy with something totally alone. It had been months since the days of Todd getting home and playing elaborate games of pretend with Jessica while Lenora whipped up their dinner. Todd exhaled through his nose, searching through his mind for the right response to offer her. 

“Well, sweetheart, do you want to know a secret?” Todd offered, smiling at Jessica’s wide eyes and enthusiastic nodding. “Remember the store on the corner of the street? The one with the big display windows? Well, your brother has wanted that shiny red bicycle in that window all summer long. I’m working extra hard so we can surprise him for his birthday. Isn’t that exciting?” Todd could tell from Jessica’s face that she agreed that it was. 

“But, daddy, how did you know Will wanted the bike?” Jessica implored, leaning in and whispering to keep Will from overhearing. 

“Your mom and I, we always know,” Todd answered, kissing his daughter’s forehead. Jessica seemed to accept this answer, so Todd laid her down on her bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. 

“I’d work hard to get the bike for Will, too. It’s good you’re doing that, daddy,” Jessica sighed peacefully, her eyelids already starting to droop. “I’ll think about the bike when I miss you.”

Todd smiled at her, briefly stroking her hair before switching off the light beside her bed and wishing her sweet dreams. He repeated his routine with Will, the two of them performing their increasingly elaborate secret handshake, and lightly scolded him for getting into bed without brushing his teeth, before sending him back to the bathroom to finish up. Todd waited quietly for Will to return, tucking him in and smoothing his comforter absent-mindedly while Will spoke rapidly about the details he’d forgotten from his day at school. Listening to Will ramble was one of Todd’s favorite things on Earth, and a small part of him always struggled to be a parent and tell his son to go to sleep. If he was honest, Todd would have been happy listening to Will talk into the wee hours of the morning.

He left his son’s bedroom, turning off the hallway light as he meandered to his own room, a room which also housed the TV and Todd’s home office. Lenora was changing into her nightgown and Todd instinctively looked away, sitting down on his side of the bed.

“I won’t get mad if you look, you know,” Lenora chuckled. “You’re my husband. I’d hope you’d want to see me naked.”

Todd pursed his lips into a thin line that vaguely resembled a smile, meeting Lenora’s eyes but quickly returning his gaze to the comforter he had pulled over his legs. Lenora didn’t seem to notice his strange reaction, though. In some ways, Todd was grateful he was such an awkward person. It had given him excuses for many things throughout his life. Lenora soon settled beside him in the bed, throwing an arm over Todd’s chest. He softened as she curled up against him. He ran cold, and it always felt nice to feel the warmth of another person beside him at night. Sure, things weren’t exactly easy right now, least of all their money situation, but with his family itself, everything was simple and nice and good.

“I love you, Todd,” Lenora whispered sleepily. She’d never fallen asleep without saying it in all the years since they’d been married, even after their worst fights. He appreciated that habit of hers. She had never failed to make him feel valued. 

“I love you, Lenora,” he replied, the words coming naturally as he settled into the bed and closed his eyes. His mind was empty while he dozed off, falling into a heavy, peaceful sleep.

But just as soon as he fell asleep, after a mundane, standard, happy day, it happened again.

The dream.

It was always the same. Todd was frozen in place, surrounded by darkness. He couldn’t raise his arms, couldn’t look at his hands, but he somehow always knew that if he could, they would have been the soft, smooth hands of his youth. A feeling of familiar dread took over his body. He stared forward into the darkness, unable to avert his eyes, unable to close them. 

A figure appeared before him, barely visible in the darkness, shirtless, facing away. A crown of briars adorned the figure’s head. Todd tried to move forward, but his body wouldn’t obey him. No matter how many times he had this dream, the terror never diminished. He tried to scream, to yell, to get the figure to hear him. His voice sounded far away, hollow, like he was screaming underwater. The figure was coming more clearly into view, still facing away, still completely motionless. The briar crown looked harsh and sharp in the darkness. Todd wanted to reach out, to rip it off.

In that moment, blood began to trickle down the sides of the figure’s head. Still, he didn’t turn. Todd screamed silently, watching as the trickle turned into a gushing stream of blood, red overcoming the blackness of his surroundings. Turning the whole world red. The figure slowly, torturously slowly, began to turn towards Todd. Todd tried desperately to move, to close his eyes, anything other than standing here, trapped, watching the horror unfold. The figure’s face came into view. Lifeless, tear-stained, streaked with blood. 

Neil.

This distorted, nightmarish version of Neil Perry stared at Todd with vacant eyes, Todd’s voice going hoarse from screaming, from trying in vain to wake himself up. Neil’s mouth opened slowly, unnaturally, stretching further than it should have. He breathed in, and Todd braced himself for an ear-splitting scream to burst from Neil’s mouth. But instead, like it always did, Todd’s own voice bellowed from Neil’s mouth, the boy’s vacant eyes dripping with tears. “NEIL! NEIL!” 

Todd sat straight up in his bed, panting, his body sticky with sweat. 

“Honey, it’s okay!” Lenora said simultaneously, releasing her death grip on Todd’s arm when he sat up forcefully. Todd gasped and gripped at his hair, squeezing his eyes shut to try to block out the images in his mind. That damn dream-

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m-” Todd frantically whispered, trying to remember how to breathe. 

“Shh, you’re ok, don’t apologize,” Lenora soothed, running her hand over Todd’s arm reassuringly. Her voice was laced with concern, only deepening Todd’s guilt. But he couldn’t think about Lenora. Not right now.

Neil.

Neil, Neil, Neil, Neil, Neil.

The thing Todd had been imagining for years had finally come to pass. Todd hadn’t thought of him all day. Hadn’t grieved him, hadn’t pictured his face. For the past 15 years, he’d tried to keep the boy far from his mind. He tried to move on and forget him, to leave all of that behind and forget about the pain that had stuck in his heart like a blood clot. Of course, he’d never imagined it could ever actually work. He suddenly felt a horrible, searing guilt for even trying. What right did he have to block out those memories when Neil would never get the chance to?

Neil, Neil, Neil, Neil, Neil.

He hadn’t had that goddamn nightmare for years. In the immediate wake of Neil’s death, it had become a sick, excruciating routine. Dozens of Neils had bled out in front of him, bleeding from the crown on his head like a crucified Jesus, dying for the sins of his father. That’s what Todd chose to believe, anyway. It put to rest some of the nagging questions that haunted Todd when he tried to fall asleep. He’d never heard the full story of what had happened to turn Neil Perry, who loved living, who loved his friends, who would never leave them, into a corpse in a casket that Todd himself had to carry. 

He’d never seen a note, never heard anything more than pieced-together information from each of his friends at Welton and the occasional additional detail he overheard from the school’s staff. He’d been a bit obsessed with putting the story together, asking everyone who knew anything to repeat it to him again and again until Todd was certain he’d never forget it. In the weeks after Neil’s death, getting answers had been Todd’s only solace. He didn’t know whether Neil’s father really played the role that Todd convinced himself he had. But Todd couldn’t stomach any other reality. He couldn’t stomach the possibility that there had been signs, that Neil had been suffering enough to end his own life, and Todd, his roommate for god’s sake , hadn’t even noticed. That reality was unbearable. Neil may have pulled the trigger, but his father killed him. 

And now the nightmare was back, immediately sending Todd back into the spiral that he’d been trying to steer clear of for years. All the unanswered questions, all the unhealed wounds that Todd had simply taught himself to ignore. The ache to just understand that still followed him more than a decade later. 

“Todd, you were yelling,” Lenora whispered, still trying to calm him down. Todd shook his head, sure he already knew exactly what name he’d been yelling, and not eager to discuss the dream with Lenora.

“I’m fine,” Todd whispered, his voice shaky.

“Honey, you’re not,” Lenora insisted, trying to turn Todd’s head to force him to look at her. “Was it about-”

“No.” Todd cut her off. They didn’t talk about Welton. That was a rule that neither of them dared to break. She knew the basics. That was all he wanted her to know. “No, I’m fine. Did I wake the kids?” 

Lenora stammered, visibly struggling to formulate a response to Todd’s interruption. 

“I don’t think so-” she said hesitantly, concern and curiosity coating her features. Todd sighed, forcing himself to pull it together for her sake. 

“I’m sorry, honey. I promise it’s alright. Just go back to sleep, okay?” He asked, forcing the shake out of his voice. Lenora wordlessly agreed, laying beside him again, unease radiating off her. Todd tried to relax, tried to fall back asleep, but it was hopeless. All he could think about were Neil’s vacant eyes, blood matting his eyebrows, staring at Todd with so much resentment and malice because Todd had watched Neil leave that fucking theatre, and he’d just let him go -

After 15 minutes of forcefully trying - and failing - to control his breathing, he threw off the covers and extricated himself from the bed in one jerky movement.

“I’m just going to the bathroom. I’ll be right back,” Todd tried to whisper, though it came out more as a strange mumble, as Lenora sat up, startled. She slowly nodded, hesitantly laying back down and watching him turn to leave. Todd slowly walked from the bedroom, closing the door behind him. The second the door was closed, Todd stumbled into the bathroom as fast as he could, slamming and locking the door before grabbing onto the edge of the sink with both hands and dropping his head, trying to subdue his nausea. The sounds of the city snuck in through the cracked window. 

Todd looked up from his white knuckles, gripping the sink like it was his lifeline, and stared into his own glistening eyes in the bathroom mirror. He hadn’t aged particularly gracefully, his years already showing on his skin as a result of the constant stress and strain of having a shitty job and a serious anxiety problem. He stared at himself intently, nonetheless, craving a physical reminder that he was no longer 17, that he hadn’t been 17 for a long time, and that the person he was looking at now in the mirror had never set foot in Welton. 

Ever since it happened, since the night Neil died, Todd had been trying to forget. He’d trudged his way through his senior year, the Dead Poets Society completely disbanded, barely ever speaking to the friends who he used to spend every waking moment beside. Charlie was gone, off to some other stuffy private school to “get his life back on track.” Todd had tried to keep in touch with Charlie, but as soon as Todd graduated, any reminder of his time at Welton was a bad one. He accepted the sacrifice of throwing out the good with the bad. It was all too painful, still too fresh after all those years. 

But he’d never imagined it would really be possible, that he could ever actually begin to forget those four months, that pulsing wound in Todd’s heart. If he could forget Neil for an entire day, then he could forget him for a week. A month. And soon Todd could forget him entirely. The thought of that shouldn’t have been so nauseating, shouldn’t have made Todd’s stomach turn, and shouldn’t have made him have to start breathing through his mouth to avoid vomiting into his bathroom sink. Isn’t forgetting the one thing he wanted, the one thing he was constantly trying to do? Wasn’t the easy happiness of his day with his family better than the aching, longing, suffocating pain of his memories? Of all his unanswered questions that he’d tried to put to rest?

He’d tried to process, to take the advice that he was given about grief and coping and all of that. He’d tried to write a poem about what had happened, pent up in his cold, empty dorm room, but as he tried to write a line about the horrors that had haunted his nights, describing the ring of blood blossoming from Neil’s head, he’d realized that he didn’t know where the blood would have been coming from. He didn’t know if Neil had shot himself in the temple, if he’d put the gun under his chin, if he’d pressed the cold metal against the roof of his mouth, he didn’t even know where Neil had taken his last breath, and how was he supposed to fucking grieve if he didn’t know anything -

The lead had broken against the paper in Todd’s shaking hand. 

Todd splashed water into his face, trying to disrupt the spiral he could feel himself going down. Todd realized how much he was missing the intensity of his fresh grief, and mourned his own gradual apathy. Of all the things Todd missed about his grief, the things he regretted ever letting go of, he hadn’t missed this dream. This goddamn dream only brought back memories of the worst nights of Todd’s life. Back then, it had been so fresh, so raw. Now, thinking about Neil was different than it had been when Todd was younger. Now Neil - poor, tragic, extraordinary Neil - was a kid to him, when back then, Neil Perry had been nothing short of a god. Someone to worship, to follow, to love from afar. But Neil’s death wasn’t biblical; Neil hadn’t died a martyr. Todd knew that.

Todd was an adult now, and Neil had become nothing but a memory, a memory of a kid with a shitty dad who had made an impulsive decision 15 years ago. A kid who wouldn’t let Todd catch a break, sure, who seemed to be following Todd everywhere he went, begging to be understood, to be seen. Todd had children of his own now, children who were closer to Neil’s age when he died than Todd himself was. And there would never be some perfect answer that would magically explain why Neil had decided his life wasn’t worth living anymore. Todd had every reason, every excuse, and every justification to let this go. It would’ve been so much easier to forget all of it. 

But he owed Neil more than apathetically forgetting him. Neil Perry deserved to be missed. His lopsided impish smile deserved to be missed, and his unfulfilled potential, and his remarkable talent, and his reading voice when he was focused, and the way he snored like a grandpa. If those memories were still alive, that was better than letting Neil vanish completely. Todd wouldn’t allow himself to be the one to kill Neil Perry a second time.

He owed it to Neil - Neil, who had been Todd’s guiding light, his 16-year-old god, and the person who showed him how to use his voice for once - to sit with those memories, to accept the pain of those unanswered questions. At least for a while. At least for tonight. Todd looked up again, watching the water drip from the tip of his nose. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Todd Anderson watched the cold water drip from the tip of his nose, hoping, somehow, the water would wash away the thoughts that were crowding every corner of his head. He stared into his own eyes, searching there for whatever dark, evil thing must have been festering somewhere inside him. He studied his face, staring, searching, but he only saw himself, plain, scrawny Todd. Pathetic, yes, but not vile, not diseased. He kept searching. 

The year was 1959. November. Todd Anderson was almost 17. His birthday was next week. The Dead Poets Society was alive and well. 

Neil was alive, too.

“Todd quit hogging the sink, you weirdo,” Charlie Dalton insisted, shoving past Todd and breaking the trance that had consumed him. Todd opened his mouth to reply, his brow furrowed in irritation, but quickly thought better of it. He dried his face, rubbing his skin more aggressively than he needed to, wanting so badly to feel clean. Knox and Pitts shoved their way into the small bathroom, forcing Todd further into the corner of the room. 

“Guys,” Todd protested, but he didn’t have the energy to push the issue further. He slumped into his place in the corner, listening to the boys' chatter, envying how carefree they were. 

“Guess what I snagged,” Charlie announced, producing something from a hidden place between the cabinet and the wall with a rustle. Knox and Pitts reacted with enthusiastic gasps, and Todd managed to catch a glimpse of a Playboy magazine in Charlie’s hands, his face dripping with smug satisfaction. That stuff had never interested him much. It always felt sort of like an awkward intrusion on a stranger, never like the realization of a fantasy. In the wake of what had happened the night before, even that fact made his stomach turn. 

“No way, Charlie,” Pitts exhaled, reaching for the magazine from Charlie, who quickly pulled it away.

“Ah-ah-ah, not ‘till the meeting,” Charlie scolded, wagging his finger at Pitts.

“Oh, come on, man, get real. Am I right, Knox?” 

“Well,” Knox started, “frankly, my friends, I have no interest in such things anymore. I have found the only woman I ever want to see naked, and everything else is merely a temporary distraction,” he finished melodramatically but completely sincerely. Pitts and Charlie looked at each other, suddenly bursting the silence with howling laughter. Knox tried to defend himself, the trio forcing their way out of the bathroom to return to their dorms. Todd stood up from where he was leaning against the wall, following a safe distance behind them, before ducking off into his own room. He closed the door behind him, relieved to see that the room was empty. As much as he loved talking to Neil, he’d been dreading seeing him tonight more than he could explain. Todd leaned his back against the door, sighing heavily.

“Whitman.” A voice came from behind Todd’s left shoulder. Todd startled. Neil was leaning against the wall nearest the door, holding something in his hands. 

“Jesus,” Todd exhaled, putting a hand to his racing heart. “You scared the shit out of me.” Neil smiled his goofy smile. Todd knew that smile all too well, and braced for the teasing that would follow. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Neil replied, his smile not falling. Todd couldn’t understand what about him made Neil smile like that. It almost made him insecure, worried that Neil found him amusing in the way one might find a pathetic shivering lap dog amusing. 

“What are you doing hiding in the corner anyway?” Todd asked, clinging onto what was left of his dignity as he smoothed down his tousled pajama shirt. As nervous as he’d been to see Neil, he couldn’t help but feel his lips start to stretch into a smile just at the sight of him in his glasses, which he only wore when he was reading.

“Just because you didn’t see me doesn’t mean I was hiding,” Neil said, to which Todd rolled his eyes. “I’m just practicing my lines again,” Neil explained, dropping his joking tone and taking on the almost reverent tone that Neil always had when he talked about acting. 

“How’s that going for you? It seems like a lot to memorize. I’m glad it’s you and not me.” Todd said, shuddering at the mere thought of having to perform in a play. Neil smiled again, looking right into Todd’s eyes. 

“Well, I said I love it, I didn’t say I recommend it,” Neil said, holding Todd’s gaze. He did that a lot, lingering for just a beat longer than Todd was prepared for. Todd looked away, his face warm from its proximity to Neil’s. “Actually,” Neil continued, “I was hoping you might be willing to help me practice sometime? I think it’d be easier to learn if I’m saying them out loud.”

In an instant, the temporary normalcy of his quiet moments with Neil had been shattered, and Todd was reminded all over again why he hadn’t wanted to see his roommate. Suddenly, awkwardly, Todd crossed over to his bed, sitting down and slipping his feet out of his uniform slippers. 

“Yeah…” Todd muttered uncertainly, not eager to spend a second more with Neil than he had to at the moment, but also far too anxious to decline such a request. “Yeah, I- I can do that.” 

“Ah, I knew you’d be up for it! Great! We’ll start tomorrow!” Neil’s enthusiasm was palpable, and Todd felt like he might be sick.

“Neil-” He started, preparing to warn the boy that he shouldn’t set his expectations of Todd’s eagerness to participate too high, but Neil seemed to be lost in his own train of thought, beginning to pace about the length of the room.

“You’re wrong, by the way,” Neil stated confidently.

“What?” Todd asked, his body immediately going cold, instantly preparing to need to defend himself in some way or another. 

“What Mr. Keating said today in class. He said you think everything inside of you is worthless. You’re wrong.” Todd wasn’t sure what he’d expected Neil to say, but it certainly hadn’t been that. He opened his mouth and sputtered awkwardly, trying to formulate a response.

“I never said that I-” Todd started, stumbling over his words.

“You don’t have to say it,” Neil interrupted. He moved surprisingly quickly, kneeling on the ground beside Todd’s bed, studying his face. “It’s obvious that you’ve got a serious case of poor self-esteem.”

Todd wanted more than anything for Neil to quit inspecting him. What if Neil - perceptive, clever, Neil - could pick up on something, some sign, some deformation, that Todd hadn’t seen in himself? He closed his eyes tensely, trying to play off his fear as frustration.

“My self-esteem is just fine,” Todd rebutted, trying to encourage Neil to back off.

“I really liked your poem today,” Neil changed the subject, leaning slightly away from Todd and putting more desperately needed space between them. That day, during Mr. Keating's class, Todd had gone through the mortifying ordeal of being forced to deliver impromptu poetry in front of all his classmates. Todd felt suddenly embarrassed, despite the fact that Neil was complimenting him. Being perceived, in any regard, was still viscerally uncomfortable for Todd.

I liked it too, Todd wanted to say, but it felt too unnatural, too Keating. Instead, he simply shrugged. 

“Come on, Anderson, you’ve got a gift! Who knew someone so quiet had so much to say, huh?” Neil laughed at his own observation. Todd bit at his lip, a habit he’d never made much of an effort to break. He felt so embarrassed around Neil, like he was vulnerable and exposed, and Neil was poking and prodding at him to try to understand him. When Todd didn’t offer up a response, Neil turned to face him, studying his expression again. After a few moments, Neil started to poke Todd’s arm, the gesture playful but insistent.

“What’s up with you? Something’s off,” Neil said, still poking Todd’s arm. 

“I’m fine,” Todd replied. What else was he supposed to say? He couldn’t tell Neil what was on his mind. He couldn’t explain that he had never been more confused in his life, that he felt like he had stuck his brain in a blender, that he was lost in a sea of completely non-poetic self-loathing…

“Todd,” Neil insisted with a sigh. Todd turned his face a millimeter further away, terrified that tears would spill from his eyes. Todd hated how easily he cried. He cracked all his knuckles again, pushing extra hard on his ring finger, which never seemed to crack properly. Todd knew Neil was trying to help, trying to cheer him up like he always did, but right now, it just felt like an intrusion. Like Neil was forcing his way through Todd’s carefully crafted brick-and-mortar. “You know I meant what I said the other day, right? You’re my friend. You don’t need to take care of yourself all the time.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Neil,” Todd dismissed, now turning his body away from Neil to signal to him that he didn’t want to be disturbed.

“Which means, ” Neil drew out the words as if to indicate he was having to spell out something he expected to be obvious. “That you can talk to me if you’re upset.”

“I’m not upset.” Todd’s words came out harsher than he’d meant them. He saw the confusion on Neil’s face, watching his brow furrow. Neil didn’t seem to understand why Todd preferred to keep certain things to himself. Todd would have said it was annoying if Neil weren’t so damn earnest about it.

“Todd, I hope you know you can’t scare me away that easy,” Neil stated with a finality that stopped Todd in his tracks before he even attempted to protest, resigning himself to silence. “We don’t have to talk. I’m just saying we could. When you want to.”

“Okay,” was all Todd could think to say. He couldn’t very well argue with that, although he was quite certain that scaring Neil away would be much easier than Neil could possibly have anticipated. If Neil knew-

“Okay. Don’t forget,” Neil said, seemingly satisfied. He crossed towards Todd’s bed and dropped himself down near Todd’s feet, script still in hand, and leaned against the wall to return to his reading. Todd was almost shocked by Neil’s stubborn dedication to stick around for him. Todd stared at Neil, almost involuntarily, his lip tugging upward into a smirk at the sight of Neil’s focused expression peeking past his glasses. But it only made him feel guiltier, even daring to look at Neil, so he returned his gaze to his feet, feeling the nauseous lolling of his stomach. Todd cracked his knuckles, trying to block out the thoughts running through his head. Thoughts of the particularly torturous dream that had come to him the night before. 

Neil. Shirtless. Facing away. Todd walked towards him, seemingly unable to control his own body. He watched as his arm reached out, fingertips grazing Neil’s bare, freckled shoulder. The brown-haired figure turned towards him, his face softening. Todd’s hand involuntarily ran up the side of Neil’s shoulder and up to his neck before delicately running through the boy’s brown hair, Neil leaning into his touch. Todd was an observer, trapped inside of his own body, unable to pull away or rip his gaze from the boy in front of him. Neil’s mouth opened into a radiant smile, a single word softly falling from his lips. “Todd.” 

It ended there, Todd sitting straight up in his bed as though he’d been dreaming of falling from a building. And since last night, it had been replaying in his mind, like a broken tape. 

Todd knew it could have been worse, that it could have been more damning, more blatant.

Still, Todd knew that in waking from that dream, from that nightmare, he was waking into another one. 

Chapter Text

The year was 1959. December 1st. Two weeks until opening night. Todd Anderson was 17 years old. Knox was an idiot in love. Charlie was Nuwanda now. 

Neil was alive.

The poets sat in their cave, cigarettes hung loosely between their lips, while Charlie rambled on and on about his newfound perspective on life, and how he was going to seize the day by the balls and other stuff that was stereotypically Charlie. Todd smiled and laughed along with the others, but his mind was elsewhere. Neil had asked him while they walked to the cave in a hushed voice to wake him early the next morning, enthusiastically awaiting any opportunity he got to practice his lines. Todd was looking forward to it more than he let on. The pair had been rehearsing every once in a while, and Todd was getting better at doing the voices and at remembering which story beat led to the next. He felt embarrassed, attempting to commit to the accents and faces, but he did it anyway because it made Neil happy. Why Neil cared so deeply about whether Todd broke out of his shell, Todd didn’t understand. He was fine in his shell. Things were simple in there. But he’d be lying if he said this wasn’t more exciting.

“Todd?” Charlie asked, the boys chuckling good-naturedly when Todd snapped out of his trance, looking up at the proud figure towering over him. “Come on man, are you even listening to my twisted rhythms right now?”

“Let him be, Dalton. And ‘twisted rhythms’ doesn’t sound as cool as you think it does, I promise,” Knox interjected. 

“Sorry, Charlie,” Todd replied sheepishly.

“Nuwanda,” Charlie corrected. 

“Right,” Todd said, his face completely serious, before inhaling and choking on cigarette smoke. He was an inexperienced smoker. For whatever reason, this was hilarious to Neil, who was sitting beside Todd and leaning against the rock wall behind him. Neil smacked Todd on the back playfully, forcing Todd’s face into a dorky grin, though he was still hacking up a lung. He felt strange when Neil touched him, like an electric shock was traveling from the point of contact to disturb the electricity of his heart. Todd’s recurring dream briefly flashed through his mind, and he shook his head imperceptibly to brush the thought away, as though it were a strand of hair falling into his eyes. 

“Alright, Nuwanda, I think we’ve heard enough from you. Someone pass me the book.” Neil stood up, shoving Charlie out of the way and claiming his spot in the middle of the room. The light from the candles they had brought out illuminated Neil’s face from below. He reminded Todd of a statue in this lighting, his features so strong and precise. Neil looked around at the group, drawing them in for an enthralling reading. Out of all of them, Neil was the best reader by far. He delivered each poem the way he delivered his lines as Puck. Raw, authentic, clear, and powerful. Todd leaned in instinctively as Neil put out his cigarette on the wet wall of the cave and began flipping through the aged book until something seemed to capture his attention. 

“Look, someone kitty-cornered this page. Keating didn’t usually do that, did he?” The other boys muttered their agreement - Keating wrote on the pages he wanted to save for later - while Neil scanned the page, his face clearly indicating that he found whatever he was seeing compelling enough to merit a dramatic reading. “Alright, here goes....” Neil took a deep breath, a smile already tugging at his lips. Todd liked that. Just how passionate Neil was. Neil never just cared about something, it consumed him. Even if it was just whatever poem he happened to be reading aloud in that moment. It was charming, if a bit intimidating, Todd thought. Neil began to read.

“Learning to love differently is hard,

love with the hands wide open, love

with the doors banging on their hinges,

the cupboard unlocked, the wind

roaring and whimpering in the rooms

rustling the sheets and snapping the blinds

that thwack like rubber bands

in an open palm.”

Todd felt his ears prick up slightly at the first sentence. A love poem. The boys had reached a sort of unspoken agreement, within the last few meetings, to avoid love poems for a while, until Knox managed to get a grip and was able to offer anything to their discussions other than pitiful stammerings of “it’s just-” and “she just-” and “GOD, why me??” Todd wondered if Neil thought Knox would be able to handle it by now, or if he simply wanted to see him squirm. 

“It hurts to love wide open

stretching the muscles that feel

as if they are made of wet plaster,

then of blunt knives, then

of sharp knives.

It hurts to thwart the reflexes

of grab, of clutch; to love and let

go again and again. It pesters to remember

the lover who is not in the bed,

to hold back what is owed to the work

that gutters like a candle in a cave

without air, to love consciously,

conscientiously, concretely, constructively.”

Something peculiar seemed to be twisting inside of Todd’s stomach as he watched Neil. Of course, Todd knew that Neil was an actor, and a very skilled reader, but there was an edge of honesty and sincerity in the way he read this particular poem that introduced a very strange idea to Todd’s subconscious. What if Neil had fallen in love? It didn’t seem too absurd a thought. He’d been talking, only a few weeks ago, about all the cute girls in A Midsummer Night’s Dream . Still, the idea seemed strangely off-putting to Todd. What could any of those girls possibly have to offer that would interest Neil Perry, the most interesting person Todd had ever known? What could possibly be enough to make him hurt like the speaker in the poem? 

Todd shook his head slightly again. That had become a bit of a nervous twitch of his lately, as his mind ran down decidedly unwanted routes. He was making things up again, there was no reason to think Neil was falling in love just because of the poem he’d happened upon in a twenty-year-old book. Neil continued with the poem and Todd forced himself to actually listen.

“I can’t do it, you say it’s killing

me, but you thrive, you glow

on the street like a neon raspberry,

you float and sail, a helium balloon

bright bachelor’s button blue and bobbing

on the cold and hot winds of our breath,

as we make and unmake in passionate

diastole and systole the rhythm

of our unbound bonding, to have

and not to hold, to love

with minimized malice, hunger

and anger moment by moment balanced.”

Neil bowed jokingly while the boys applauded and began to chatter amongst themselves. Todd forgot to clap, joining in awkwardly late. Charlie was pretending to sob, blubbering out the words “Chris, oh, Chris!” and throwing himself in Knox’s lap, who rolled his eyes and shoved Charlie off of him. Neil sat back down beside Todd while Pitts took center stage, Neil extending his arms to hand Pitts the book that had essentially become their Bible. Pitts took to flipping through the first and second centuries of verse included in their anthology, muttering something about a “gory one” he’d seen the other evening. Todd wasn’t paying much attention to Pitts, however, instead settling to awkwardly study Neil from under his arms, which he’d propped up on his knees. Neil didn’t seem to notice Todd watching him, evaluating him for some visible signifier of blossoming adolescent romance. What if he had been secretly pining over one of his castmates for months, and simply hadn’t said anything out of fear of being relentlessly mocked, the way that Knox was? But, no, Neil Perry wasn’t afraid of anything. Well, then, maybe Neil had been-

Todd’s attention was forcibly redirected to Pitts when the taller boy stomped on the ground beside Todd’s legs for emphasis on the word “war,” seemingly having settled on a poem about a soldier gradually losing his mind. Pitts’ performance was adequate, Todd thought, but nothing like Neil’s would have been. Todd would’ve believed that Neil truly was a mad soldier, would nearly taste the mud and iron the poet described if Neil was the one delivering the words. That was Neil’s gift. Making people believe. Almost like a priest, Todd thought. He nearly scoffed at himself for obsessing about this contrived idea of Neil falling in love. Of course Todd had believed him.

Still, he felt burning curiosity, and planned to ask Neil about the poem once the meeting had concluded. After Pitts’ compelling but generally depressing poem, the energy had dipped substantially, and Neil announced that the meeting was adjourned. Todd briefly wondered what would have happened if he attempted to do that, make some type of announcement, and quickly came to the conclusion that he would have been laughed at. Not out of malice, of course, but only Neil seemed to have earned the authority to decide when their meetings were over. The rest of them could complain about the cold or about how early they had to wake up the next morning, but they stayed seated until Neil decided it was time. Todd didn’t understand how one 16-year-old boy could hold that much power, but then he realized he needed to stop thinking about Neil. If he thought about Neil a little less, he figured, maybe he’d dream about Neil a little less. It’d be better not to ask Neil about the poem. Better just to go back to his dorm and go to sleep.

The boys filed out of the cave, ducking to avoid hitting their heads, and began their retreat to their dorms. The snow crunched under Todd’s shoes, and he found himself staring down at his feet again. He did that a lot, he was realizing. 

“How’dya like the meeting tonight, huh?” Neil appeared beside him, bumping him with his elbow. 

“Oh, you know, I- I like all the meetings…” Todd replied noncommittally. He wasn’t sure what Neil wanted to hear, and thus didn’t want to commit to an opinion. 

“Come on, Todd, don’t be like that. What did you think?” Neil probed. Todd didn’t want to disappoint him, and hesitantly opened his mouth to reply.

“I-” Todd cut himself off again, but Neil urged him on silently. Todd looked back at his feet. He realized that he simply couldn’t resist. “That- that poem you read. It seemed like you… liked it, but I- I didn’t understand what it was supposed to mean.” 

Subtle, he thought. Todd hoped that, if Neil really had been thinking of someone in particular, that Neil would trust him enough to admit that to him. If only to ease Todd’s searing curiosity that felt like an itch going unscratched. 

“Well you’re the real poet among us, aren’t you? What do you think it meant?” Neil asked. Alarms went off in Todd’s head immediately, warning him of danger ahead. What was he supposed to say to that? Based on the slight change of inflection in your voice, I have come to the conclusion that you must be secretly pining for someone in the cast of Henley Hall’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and I feel entitled to details- ? Saying that out loud would have been ridiculous. Todd nearly smacked himself for even considering it. 

“It was about Chris, right? ‘To have and not to hold?’ I’m sure Knox would understand that one better than I would,” Todd answered, unable to meet Neil’s eye. “I mean, surely you knew he’d react the way he did.” Todd continued with an awkward laugh, thinking of Knox’s melodramatic antics earlier that night. He wasn’t really able to find much joy in it at the moment, still so hung up on his curiosity.

“Yeah. That’s what I was thinking, too,” Neil replied, tucking his hands into his pockets. The two walked beside each other silently for a moment. Todd’s mind was racing, trying to steal glances at Neil, to read his expression. “I should’ve known better than to read something like that, it’s just gonna make Knox even more insufferable tomorrow.” Neil looked back up with a teasing smile. With that, the two were back to their usual banter, Todd trying in vain to keep up with Neil’s playful wit. Todd could’ve been funny, he thought, if he wasn’t so damn nervous all the time. He ended up being tragically earnest instead. Neil never seemed to mind, though. 

“What are you two walking so damn slow for?” Charlie called out behind him, interrupting Neil and Todd’s mundane conversation. “You know, Anderson, you’re awfully cute with your whole puppy-dog face and all that, but Neil was my girlfriend first,” Charlie teased, blowing a kiss and batting his eyes jokingly at Neil while the other boys burst into laughter. Todd’s face turned beet red. He hoped it was dark enough that Neil wouldn’t notice, quickly turning away and pulling up the collar of his jacket to shield some of his face. 

“Ha, ha, very funny, Charlie,” Neil replied, catching the kiss in his hand and rolling his eyes with a comfortable smile. He took the “kiss” in his hand and wound up to throw it like a baseball pitcher, putting his hand up over his eyes like he was watching it fly into the distance. Charlie’s comment hadn’t made Neil nervous and fidgety like it had Todd. Neil had nothing to hide. Todd wasn’t sure how to feel about that. The pair walked quickly and caught up with the others. Neil turned to face Todd while they walked, softly nudging his arm, and leaned in near Todd’s ear, speaking just above a whisper.

“Hey, Whitman, don’t let Charlie bug you. Just because you haven’t been here as long doesn’t make you any less important,” Neil tried to reassure him. If only that were why Todd was so flustered. That would’ve been much easier.

“Thanks, Neil,” Todd managed, unsure what else to say. He put his cold hand to his cheek, wishing he could lay down face first in the snow until his pulse returned to a normal tempo. He realized he’d been chewing on his lips only when the faint taste of blood made its way onto his tongue. 

“We still on for tomorrow morning?” Neil asked, kicking snow as he stepped.

“Yeah, that’s fine with me.” Todd tried not to sound overeager. With that question answered Neil nodded and darted forward, away from Todd, and threw his arm around Charlie.

“Guys, my girlfriend came back to me!” Charlie added before making repeated smooching noises, Neil joining in while the others laughed. Todd walked awkwardly behind the six of them, rubbing his neck anxiously while he watched them walk further and further away. He made no effort to keep up. None of the others seemed to notice.

Todd enjoyed listening. At the very least, he was good at listening. When he was younger, he had barely spoken unless someone asked him a question, sitting silently and reading, or simply sitting in the yard with his own thoughts for hours. Whenever he felt overwhelmed, he’d go outside, the vastness of the world around him helping to remind him that he wasn’t literally trapped in the ever-tightening spiral of his mind. Once he’d gotten through the doors, he’d go straight to listening. Listening for the bird song, the sound of cars puttering by, anything that managed to reach him. It was harder to listen in the winter. The snow tended to muffle the sounds that distracted him from whatever it was that was flooding his mind. 

When he got a bit older, he learned to play the piano. Not well, of course; Todd couldn’t seem to do anything well. But it was an effective tool to quiet down his own mind, to speak without speaking. He had come to enjoy it, too, particularly the way it felt when he was immersed in the emotion of a piece, putting all of the complex emotions into the straightforward language of the keys. Once he started school, he was immediately thrust into an environment where people seemed to actually care that he rarely spoke a word. Every meeting between Todd’s parents and his teachers always revolved around that very topic, to which his parents would insist that Todd must have just been being stubborn, and that he talked plenty at home. That wasn’t true, of course, but Todd knew they weren’t lying intentionally. He simply didn’t cross their minds often enough for them to make the observation themselves. 

Here at Welton, he was in the unique position of being listened to. Even that was scary for Todd, if he was honest. It was a lot more pressure, actually being noticed. Mr. Keating in particular seemed to be on a mission to thwart Todd’s attempts to blend in. Him and Neil, of course. But Neil had a bit more respect for Todd’s desire to avoid the spotlight.

“Come on, Todd, keep up!” Neil called out to him. Todd jogged forward obediently, still opting to stand on the outskirts of the group while everyone made their way back into the building. Cameron was tasked with opening the doors, a difficult task due to their size and creaky hinges. But Cameron managed to open the door quietly enough, letting everyone in before slowly pulling it shut again. 

Todd tiptoed up the stairs, following closely behind Meeks, the only other member of the group who had completely given up on the competitive race to be the first in the single-file line they formed to sneak up the stairs. The seven boys slowly made their way into their own rooms, splitting off into their assigned pairings and carefully closing their own doors. They never turned on the lights when they got back late in the night, so Todd put his jacket and shoes away in the dark. Neil was watching him, Todd could feel his eyes on him without having to look up to confirm it. Despite how uneasy it made him, he was relieved that, for the moment, Neil hadn’t said anything. The strange poem that Neil had recited replayed again and again in Todd’s mind. He tried to iron out the wrinkles in his memory and wished he could read it again from the book but was far too nervous to ask.

To love consciously, conscientiously, concretely, constructively.

Who was Neil thinking about when he said that? Who was he unconsciously, unconscientiously, inconcretely, unconstructively loving? Why did Todd give a shit who Neil loved in the first place-?

Todd wanted to sleep.

He wanted his stupid brain to shut up.

“G’night,” Todd said declaratively, crawling into his bed, slightly bothered by the smell of cigarette smoke on his clothes. He wanted to avoid a conversation, wanted to avoid Neil’s prying eyes and ability to see through Todd’s defenses. Neil hummed a response, taking off his own shoes and tossing them with a thud toward the front of the room. Todd tensed slightly at the sound, hoping that it wouldn’t alert the attention of Mr. Nolan’s watchful dog. Still, Neil seemed to be settling onto his mattress, meaning that at least Todd had managed to avoid any further interrogation from Neil before bed. Probably best, for tonight.

A few quiet minutes passed. Todd rolled over to face the wall after realizing he’d been closely watching the rise and fall of Neil’s chest. He squeezed his eyes shut, part of him hoping they would stay stuck like that. He gripped the thin comforter that he’d pulled up to his chin. The darkness made it much harder to distract himself from the questions that had been hammering against the inside of his skull, questions that he distinctly wanted to avoid answering. Soon, having his eyes closed only made it worse, because all he could see was Neil. Neil, reading his poem. Neil, with his hair wet and a towel around his waist. Neil laughing at Charlie and smiling his mesmerizing smile. It was better to stare at the blank wall.

As much as he was trying not to think about Neil, he couldn’t help but notice that Neil hadn’t fallen asleep yet. Neil was a snorer, which had irritated Todd during his first week at Welton, but had become strangely comforting over the past few months. Now, it was hard to fall asleep without the sound. Rather than snoring, however, Todd heard the faint rustling of blankets, indicating that Neil, too, was tossing and turning in his bed. Probably still amped up from the meeting. Neil’s excitement took a long time to lose momentum. Todd started to count in his head, trying to give himself anything to think about other than Neil, Neil, Neil. Counting proved to be insufficient, however, so he began trying to count by 3, and then by 7, which finally seemed to consume enough of his attention. By the time he’d laboriously gotten to seven-times-fourty-seven-equals-three-twenty-nine, Neil had gone quiet, and each new number seemed to pull Todd ever so slightly closer to the sinking feeling of falling asleep…

“Todd,” Neil whispered, after what must’ve been almost an hour of Todd’s attempts to quiet down his brain. Todd scrunched his face in frustration, but managed to resist the impulse to groan, shutting his eyes tighter to try to hold onto his tenuous tiredness. He figured he’d pretend he was still asleep, shifting slightly away from the sound.

“Todd,” Neil repeated, slightly louder than the first time. Todd resigned himself to his fate.

“Mmmwhat?” He croaked, curling in on himself, his back still to Neil. 

“Are you awake?”

“Barely,” Todd replied, half-expecting Neil to apologize and go back to sleep. Of course, Neil Perry would never be so predictable. 

“I can’t sleep,” Neil declared, still in a whisper. Todd sighed from the back of his throat discontentedly, rolling over to face Neil, who was already looking at him. Todd immediately felt his own features soften. He was quite incapable of being irritated with Neil, he realized.

“I think I’m gonna go get some air,” Neil said, as though it were a completely mundane idea and not a clear violation of the rules that had been hammered into the head of every Welton student. That woke Todd up a bit. 

“You’re going back outside?” Todd asked, clearing the sleep out of his throat.

“Well, yeah. Just to the roof,” Neil said, as though it were a simple answer, while it only opened more questions for Todd. Although Todd appreciated that Neil didn’t treat him like a newcomer, sometimes it meant that he was denied explanations that he certainly needed.

“The roof?” Todd sat up a bit to get a better look at Neil, who had gotten out of bed and was collecting his shoes from where he’d thrown them.

“Come on, Nolan’s not gonna notice. Don’t tell me you’re going all September-Todd on me.” Neil seemed to have misunderstood Todd’s questioning. Todd gave him another confused look, and it seemed to click in Neil’s head. “OH, have you not been up to the roof?” Neil asked incredulously. Todd shook his head, feeling strangely like a child as he did. Neil paused, considering.

“Do you want to come with me?”

What Todd really wanted was to go to sleep, but Neil’s question still seemed to hang in the air in front of him, irresistibly beckoning him forward. Todd had the faint feeling that his heart was closer to his ribcage when Neil was near him, like it was made of iron and Neil was a giant magnet. 

“Um-” Todd started. He should’ve just said no. He had already offered to wake up at 6:00 a.m. to help Neil with his lines, surely he didn’t need to do this, too. “Okay.” Unfortunately, Todd had also recently realized that he would do anything Neil asked him to. 

Neil nodded to himself, seemingly satisfied with Todd’s answer. Todd resisted the urge to ask why Neil was so set on going right now, in the middle of the night on a school night. After all, if he wanted to get some air so badly, he could’ve just opened the window. But, of course, that was not Neil’s style. 

“C’mon, put your shoes on,” Neil gestured for Todd to get up, and Todd startled into motion, running a hand through his hair and collecting his shoes from under his bed. He slipped one on and hopped on one foot while he tugged at the other, hustling to catch up with Neil. Neil had already opened the door and begun to scan the hallway for any patrolling staff members, flashlight in hand. Todd stifled a yawn and grabbed his coat, pulling it on hastily, and joined him in the doorway. 

“All clear,” Neil whispered, clearly indulging in breaking the rules. Todd nodded and followed behind him while Neil confidently marched forward. Todd hated how cold Welton was at night, especially outside of the confines of the dorms. Neil kept his flashlight low, leading Todd down a strange hallway he didn’t recognize. If the lights had been on, he might have been able to see some signifier as to where they were, but presently, he was both literally and figuratively in the dark. The hallway went on much longer than Todd anticipated, Neil finally slowing down when they came upon a small room labeled “storage.” Neil opened the door so slowly that Todd assumed Neil was doing it to be funny, but when the hinges groaned loudly, Todd understood that Neil must have learned through trial and error to treat the door delicately. 

The so-called storage room was dusty, so much so that Todd had to stifle a sneeze as soon as he cleared the threshold, and spider webs hung like curtains from the rafters. It was also starkly empty, with only a few boxes of old school materials shoved off to the corners. Looking up at the rafters, Todd noticed what must’ve been the underside of a trapdoor. Strangely, though, Todd didn’t see a ladder anywhere. Todd looked around the room, but Neil had already begun to collect several of the old textbooks from the boxes in the corners of the room and stack them under the door. 

“Do you always have to do this?” Todd asked in a whisper. He held back a laugh while Neil waved his arms over his head to reach the handle of the trapdoor, and started jumping to grab at it.

“Well, there used to be a ladder -- but Nolan got rid of it after -- Charlie started coming up here to -- throw sticks at the seventh-graders,” Neil laughed breathlessly while he jumped and finally managed to grab the latch, letting out a sigh. “Gotcha.” 

Neil tucked his flashlight into his coat pocket and jumped again, hoisting himself up the rest of the way through the trapdoor with surprising ease. Todd stepped up onto the stack of books once Neil had made it up onto the roof, Neil peering down at him through the opening. Neil offered him a hand, and Todd managed to - much less gracefully - scramble onto the roof. Once he managed to get to his feet, he felt acutely aware of just how high above the ground they were. The trapdoor had opened to a small, flat ledge jutting out from the sea of shingles on either side, and 15 feet in front of where Todd was now standing was the edge of the roof. He instantly began picturing what would happen if he tripped, nearly feeling the jolt of his body hitting the cobblestone below.

“Is this supposed to be relaxing?” Todd asked, his teeth already chattering from the wind that seemed to blow much harder up this high. Neil’s face immediately answered that question. His eyes were closed, and he was sighing contentedly, throwing his arms out to either side and rotating in place. Todd crossed his arms, trying to make himself as small as possible so the wind wouldn’t pitch him off the edge of the roof. 

“It’s so much easier to think up here,” Neil half-answered Todd’s question, comfortably shifting to sit down on the edge of the platform that housed the trapdoor, his feet brushing against the shingles below. 

“Think about what?” Todd asked. Probably that girl. The one he’d read the poem about. That was probably what had been keeping Neil up. Todd felt a strange wave of disgust at the thought of Neil talking about that particular subject. Oh, Todd, you’d just love her. She’s so clever and pretty and-

“I don’t want to be a doctor.” Neil interrupted Todd’s train of thought. Oh. Not a girl after all. “I mean, I’ve never wanted to be a doctor, but now I’ve found exactly what I do want, and- well… I don’t know. It’s just kind of shit, I guess.” His voice was quiet, not the usual, boisterous, confident, dramatic Neil that Todd was used to. Todd slowly sat down beside him, attempting to nod sympathetically, but worried he might have looked far too energetic. He felt guilty that he was somehow relieved about the subject Neil had chosen to discuss. Or, rather, what he hadn’t chosen to discuss.

“W-well, Neil, you’re amazing at acting. Like, really amazing,” Todd said. The words sounded clunky, like they were forcing their way out of his mouth too quickly. To say Neil was amazing was a laughable understatement. Watching Neil perform made Todd feel more stirred up than anything else he’d ever seen. The boy was an artist, a beacon of passion and talent, and even just running lines together made Todd forget that the ball of energy in front of him was his roommate. “And- and I know your parents don’t see that, but screw them.” Todd’s words came out harsher than he intended. Despite his obvious inability to back up his sentiment with any action, he felt fiercely protective of Neil and wanted to shield him from the brutality of his father. “You shouldn’t just give up on acting. I- I mean, nothing’s impossible, right?” Todd repeated Neil’s words from a prior conversation back to him. 

“This might be my only chance to do this, Todd.” Neil looked strangely small, something Todd had never seen before. 

“It doesn’t need to be. There’s still community theatre. Even if you are a doctor, it’s not like you’ll live in the hospital…” 

“Yeah,” Neil cut him off, dismissing the topic. “Yeah, you’re right. Whatever.” Neil shrunk into himself even more. Todd’s chest ached. 

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“No, really, it’s fine.”

He’d pissed him off. Great. Todd didn’t understand why every single thing he did, and every word he said, was slightly off. Like his entire life was an ill-fitting suit. Todd looked at his feet and kicked stupidly at the asphalt shingles. Just as Todd had convinced himself the silence might drag on forever, Neil’s head whipped around to face him again, his eyebrows furrowed. 

“Have you ever wanted something- like, wanted it more than anything- and known that you’d never be able to have it?” Neil asked, his eyes glistening in the dim light of the waxing moon. Todd’s breath seemed to catch in his chest at that question. The answer was on the tip of his tongue before Neil had even finished his sentence. 

“Yes.” 

Neil looked at him curiously. He looked somehow even more captivating in the white and blue moonlight, which seemed to be accentuating the shadows of his face and the depth of his eyes. 

“Yeah? What is it?”

Todd chewed on his lips, trying to figure out what to say, quickly puncturing the small scab that had formed from earlier in the evening and noting the reassuringly familiar taste of blood in his mouth. He couldn’t tell Neil. He wasn’t even sure exactly what it was that he’d been referring to. Something about whispered greetings and delicate touches, comfortable silence and freckled shoulders-

“Um- well, I don’t- I just meant-” Todd started talking, purely as an attempt to stop thinking, but suddenly lost complete control of whatever part of his brain might have been capable of coming up with a lie on the spot “Um. I don’t- I don’t really know. I mean, there’s a lot of things. I don’t know. Sorry. That- that must be hard.” Neil simply shrugged, his brows still upturned curiously. Neil’s question rolled in Todd’s stomach like a stone, something foreign and indigestible. Impossible for Todd to process.

“I just wish I could-” Neil started, but something seemed to grab his attention. Neil looked back into Todd’s eyes, always with that same haunting look, a mix of curiosity and affection. And then something incomprehensible happened. Todd wasn’t sure if he was imagining things, but he could’ve sworn Neil’s eyes were flitting between Todd’s eyes and his lips. Up, down, up, down. Neil’s mouth opened slightly, and closed again. Todd felt sweat budding on his neck.

“What?” Todd breathed, barely audibly. 

“You’re bleeding,” Neil said, pointing to Todd’s bottom lip.

Oh. Right. Of course. Todd’s palms got as sweaty as his neck. Idiot.

“Oh,” was all Todd said, his eyes wide like a deer in headlights. Of course that was the only reason Neil would ever give a passing glance to Todd’s lips, because he had mutilated them. It was so stereotypically Todd that he almost scoffed at himself. Then, to his horror, he saw Neil’s hand approaching his face. Neil’s eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as he rested the first knuckle of his bent pointer finger under Todd’s bottom lip, quickly wiping at the blood with his thumb. Todd felt his heart physically lurch, momentarily afraid that Neil would be able to hear his organs sloshing around in his chest cavity. Every neuron in his body seemed to be registering only Neil, Todd’s own brain and body vanishing completely. Neil’s hand smelled like cigarette smoke, which Todd only noticed because he was making a conscious effort not to hold his breath. The moment probably lasted less than 2 seconds before Neil pulled his hand away, seemingly unbothered by the blood that he was now wiping on his pants, but for Todd, it had felt like an entire lifetime. He coughed to disguise the catch in his breath.

“You shouldn’t bite your lips so much, Anderson. You’re gonna get an infection,” Neil said scoldingly, smiling nonetheless. Of course, when Neil looked at Todd’s lips, he thought about skin infections. Of course, out of everything, that was what he thought about.

“I… well, I don’t mean to, I just do it when-”

“When you’re nervous. I know. You crack your knuckles a lot, too,” Neil pointed out with a small smile. That was… odd. Todd didn’t know how to feel about that. Normally, he hated the idea of being noticed, but somehow this felt different. He felt a strange swell of gratitude somewhere in his chest at the thought of Neil paying such close attention to him. “But you really should stop, unless you want to have cold sores for the rest of your life.”

“I thought you didn’t want to be a doctor,” Todd replied dryly, feeling his face heat up slightly nonetheless. Neil was always so involved. If Todd wasn’t so fond of him he might call him nosy. Or a busy-body. Something like that. Certainly too set on the idea that Todd’s life was his business. Or maybe his problem.

Neil exhaled a laugh through his nose. He smiled to himself for a moment, before his expression dropped, his brow creasing. “Yeah, well, I… I guess I don’t know what I want.” Todd cocked his head toward Neil, evaluating his expression. “I want to make my father proud, I want-” Neil took a breath. “I want to want to be a doctor.” He exhaled with a sigh, crossing his arms in his lap. “I don’t know.”

Todd shifted uncomfortably where he sat, looking for some response that would break the awkward silence that seemed to be deepening by the second. Neil was looking out into the inky blackness of the sky, and there was something empty about his expression that made Todd feel sick. 

“What would really happen if your parents found out about the play? Surely they wouldn’t actually do anything, right?” Todd had settled on saying the first thing that came to his mind, eager to end the suffocating silence. At the mention of his parents, Neil tensed. Todd immediately regretted broaching the topic.

“They’re not gonna find out, Todd.” Neil’s voice was firm and insistent, but there was a slight tremble to it that gave away just how uncertain Neil must have felt. The only time that Neil ever seemed nervous was when his parents were involved. 

“Right. Sorry. You’re right.” Todd leaned forward, silently urging Neil to look at him again and go back to his prying questions and overinvolvement.

“It doesn’t matter what would happen. They’re not gonna find out.” Neil looked away, almost like he was saying it to himself more than he was saying it to Todd. 

“That bad, huh?” Todd asked, his tone light, but his heart aching in sympathy for Neil. He hated the idea of Neil being in pain, probably hated it more than he could justify. Todd wasn’t an easily angered person, but every time he’d seen Mr. Perry, even on his first day at Welton, he couldn’t help but see red. The idea that anyone on this planet would willingly hurt Neil Perry left a bitter taste in Todd’s mouth every time it crossed his mind. Neil simply nodded, looking morose, as Mr. Keating would say.

“I’m sorry,” Todd replied, wishing he could say something more meaningful.

“Eh, I’m kind of used to it by now. At least I don’t have an older brother to deal with, too, huh?” Neil said lightly, brushing off whatever he had been feeling. He was clearly prodding to get Todd to open up about his own life and direct the conversation away from Neil’s. Todd decided to take the bait. He’d rather talk about his shitty home life than see Neil look so uneasy for a second longer.

“It’s not really Jeff’s fault,” Todd mumbled. “He’s a good guy. He’s just- I don’t know, I guess he doesn’t notice how good he’s got it. He just thinks we’re a normal, loving family. Which is weird, because he’s a smart guy. I mean, he’s a sophomore in college, and he’s already been accepted to business school.” Todd sighed and propped himself up on his elbows. “I dunno. I don’t blame him for any of it. He’s still my brother.” Neil nodded, lost in thought. 

“I’m sorry your parents are shitty,” Neil said, making it sound so simple that Todd couldn’t help but smile.

“I’m sorry yours are shitty, too,” Todd replied earnestly. Neil’s face briefly flashed with sadness. “But, hey, I bet my brother’s off at school complaining to his roommate that I’ve got so many desk sets and he doesn’t,” Todd joked, attempting to lighten the mood, and lifted his head to evaluate Neil’s reaction. He smiled slightly, exhaling out of his nose, clearly still preoccupied with something else.

“What’s it like being an only child?” Todd asked, hoping he could reel Neil back into their conversation and out of his own head. Todd had always envied only children, assuming they must get much more attention and love when it didn’t have to be divided into unequal portions.

“It’s… I guess it’s kind of lonely,” Neil said, to Todd’s surprise. Neil’s extroversion was still something Todd had a hard time understanding, purely because he related to it so little. “I’ve always kind of thought of Charlie as my brother. But I guess that’s just because he was always around. We’ve never really had to compete with each other much.” 

“How old were you when you met Charlie?” Todd asked. He had assumed, when he first met Neil and Charlie, that they must’ve known each other for longer than the rest, but beyond that, he wasn’t sure. 

“We met in third grade,” Neil answered. Todd could hear the smile in Neil’s voice. “We were both little shits, so we gravitated toward each other.” Todd smiled too, imagining a 9-year-old Neil Perry bouncing off the walls with an even-shorter Charlie Dalton. 

“Charlie? A little shit? It’s not possible,” Todd joked again, finally earning a laugh from Neil. His heart swelled with warmth at the sound, wishing he could hear it even more often than he already did.

“He’s actually really sweet when he wants to be. He treats that like it’s some sort of deep, dark secret, though,” Neil said, reminiscing contently. Neil’s face suddenly lit up, like an idea had come to him. “What about you, Anderson? Do you have any deep, dark secrets?” Neil poked his leg teasingly. Todd was relieved his face wasn’t visible because his eyes went as wide as dinner plates at the question. 

Did he know?

No, of course he didn’t. He didn’t. 

“Oh, uhm… well, uh…” Todd tried to force his voice to be steady, trying to buy himself some more time to come up with a secret to confess. Neil, instead, grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him, which made Todd’s life flash before his eyes for a moment considering how high up they were. 

“You totally do! You totally have a secret! Come on, you gotta tell me,” Neil pleaded while Todd struggled to avoid his eyes, stammering awkwardly while his mind raced at a million miles an hour. 

“Uhm- Neil, I really don’t have anyth-”

“Todd,” Neil whined, drawing out the one-syllable word for far too long. Despite how nervous he was, Todd couldn’t help but chuckle at Neil’s theatrics, watching as he stood up, only to lay himself down onto the shingles like a kid making a snow angel and mime stabbing himself in the heart.

“Well, I- I…” Todd started, mulling over little factoids about himself that might interest Neil.

“Please? I wanna know more about the secret, VIP-only version of Todd Anderson,” Neil insisted. That sparked an idea. Something to mention that wouldn’t give away anything truly vulnerable about him, but had a chance of satisfying Neil’s demands. He opened his mouth tentatively, stammering slightly before he could put his voice to his words.

“Well, first of all,” Todd highly considered backing out of this sentence, but Neil’s excitement got the better of him. “Technically, it’s Theodore Anderson,” Todd winced as soon as he’d said it, seeing the excitement blossom across Neil’s face. 

“Shut up, it is not!” Neil laughed, his mouth hanging open. Todd wasn’t sure why Neil found it so amusing, but he was so happy to see Neil smiling and laughing that he didn’t mind much. 

“Th- Theodore Arthur Anderson,” Todd added, smiling shyly as Neil’s excitement only increased.

“That is so medieval. You’re like a knight!” Neil laughed, standing up and gesturing towards Todd with both arms. 

“Okay, it’s not medieval -” Todd tried to defend, sitting up all the way to try to look Neil in the eye, but Neil had bent over, reaching for something behind where Todd was sitting. “Neil, what are you-” Todd started, but he was cut off when Neil turned back to face him, brandishing his flashlight in his hand. Todd raised his eyebrows curiously, but Neil’s expression made it clear that he was not about to get any answers spelled out for him. 

“Theodore Arthur Anderson,” Neil proclaimed, his voice far too loud for quiet hours at Welton, even up on the roof. Todd tried to shush him, looking around instinctively, but Neil didn’t falter for a moment. “Get up and kneel before me,” Neil ordered. Todd hesitated, raising his eyebrows incredulously and scoffing, but it was clear Neil wasn’t taking no for an answer. He slowly stood up and lowered himself to the ground in front of Neil, who had slung the flashlight over his shoulder like it was a sword. 

“Neil, this is ridiculous-”

“Ah, ah, ah!” Neil scolded, putting the end of the flashlight to Todd’s lips, before returning it to its place on his shoulder. “Now, Theodore Arthur Anderson, with the power vested in me, I hereby knight you the…” Neil paused, putting his finger to his lips. “Ah! I hereby knight you the historian of the Dead Poets Society!” Todd raised his eyebrows.

“Historian?” Todd asked, knowing his interruption would disrupt Neil’s theatrics but curious nonetheless.

“Yeah! You’ll be in charge of preserving our legacy! And you already take the minutes so it’s the perfect job!” Neil’s excitement at the idea was palpable, so Todd smiled and nodded along despite his immediate list of concerns. 

“So, am I supposed to-”

Neil shushed Todd and wagged a finger in his face, before returning to his former regal posture. “Anyway, before I was so rudely interrupted-” Neil shot a jokingly angry look at Todd, before continuing to deliver his speech to an imaginary audience. “I was saying that I hereby knight Theodore Arthur Anderson as the first ever historian of the Dead Poets Society. Of course, the responsibilities of this position are limited due to the secrecy of the society, and risk of expulsion for all participating members if too much historian work was done, but I ask you not to tell that to Theodore here, who deserves to feel special on his big day of knighting.” 

Todd laughed, but part of him dreaded the implications of what Neil was saying. Being a member of the society had already been hard enough, and the idea of having to fulfill any kind of real responsibilities put him on edge. And what would the other guys say if Neil brought this up during a meeting? Would they be upset they hadn’t been consulted? He opened his mouth to voice this concern to Neil, but Neil stopped him before he could. 

“Now, to seal the deal…” Neil concluded the ritual by lowering his flashlight on each of Todd’s shoulders, attempting to hold a serious expression, but revealing a smile within a matter of seconds. 

“There. It’s official,” Neil declared, pulling Todd to his feet by the arm. “Now, you knight me.”

“Am I qualified to knight you?” Todd asked with a laugh, taking the flashlight that Neil placed into his hand while Neil gleefully dropped to his knees on the roof.

“You’re qualified now, ” Neil said, as though it were the most obvious thing he’d ever had to explain. Todd chuckled again. 

“What am I knighting you as? The- the team captain?” Todd asked sarcastically, failing to match Neil’s knack for theatrics.

“No,” Neil said the word in two syllables. “Mr. Keating is the captain.” A sly smile spread across Neil’s face. “You’re knighting me as a future dead poet. It says in the back of Mr. Keating’s book that, to be a real member of the society, you have to be dead, because you have to have lived your whole lifetime deliberately and sucked all the marrow out for it to count. Technically speaking, we’re all only initiates. But I’m gonna do it. I’ll suck the marrow out of life until I die!” Neil was attempting to whisper, but as his excitement increased so did his volume, and Todd was shushing him again within seconds. 

“Neil, you’re gonna get us in trouble.” Todd attempted to take on a serious tone, but it was obviously disingenuous. 

“Knight me, Anderson!” He ordered, sticking out his arms to his sides and lifting his chest proudly. Todd rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t conceal his smile no matter how hard he tried to. 

“Okay, okay,” Todd started, trying to come up with something clever to say for his knighting so as to avoid disappointing Neil. He tried to get into character the way Neil would, but felt far too ridiculous to commit to the exaggerated facial expressions. He opted to keep it simple.

“I,” Todd started, noticing Neil’s insistent gaze. Todd sighed, making eye contact with Neil to make it clear that he was the source of Todd’s needless humiliation. “Theodore Arthur Anderson.” Neil raised his eyebrows, and somehow Todd knew exactly what he was asking him to say. “Theodore Arthur Anderson Whitman-” Neil cut Todd off with a whoop of excitement at the last addition. Todd clamped his hand over Neil’s mouth, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t add that last name just to get a reaction out of him. He pulled his hand away once Neil had gone silent, revealing a brilliant Neil Perry grin, his mouth stretched so wide that Todd worried it was going to snap like a rubber band. “I hereby pronounce Neil…” Todd realized he had missed some crucial information prior to his knighting. “Neil what Perry?” Todd asked, teasingly. “It’s only fair.”

“Ugh. Thomas,” Neil rolled his eyes. Thomas. Like Thomas Perry, Neil’s father, Todd remembered. Todd had never seen Neil so openly express disdain towards his father. As much as he felt for Neil, he was also grateful to get to see a side of him he hadn’t seen before. “Don’t knight me with that name. Just Neil Perry sounds better anyway.” 

“Hm,” Todd exhaled, tapping the flashlight against his chin. He could always come up with a new name to knight Neil under. Maybe he’d like that. If Todd got to be an honorary Whitman, it was only fair. He racked his mind for a name suitable for such an extraordinary person. 

“Get on with it, Anderson, my knee hurts,” Neil said with a smile, maintaining his stark 90-degree angled kneel on the ground. Todd cleared his throat to continue.  

“I hereby pronounce Neil W-William Perry-”

“William?”

“Well, if you don’t like Thomas, lots of- lots of poets are named William. If I’m knighting you shouldn’t I get to pick what name I knight you with? Plus, I’ve- I’ve always liked the name William,” Todd explained sheepishly, suddenly terrified that it had been a stupid idea. His face flushed, and the illusion of confidence that he’d put on to deliver his speech shattered immediately. 

“William! I love it!” Neil whispered loudly, and Todd could tell he meant it, so he nervously pushed on in his clumsy knighting ritual. Neil’s face softened as he mulled it over.

“I hereby pronounce Neil William Perry a future Dead Poet, a title which he has more than earned with his true commitment to seizing all of his days.” He kept his speech much simpler than Neil’s, not wanting to have to speak for a moment longer than he had to. He quickly looked at Neil to evaluate his expression, seeing if he was satisfied with the inadequate knighting. Neil didn’t look bothered, however, which Todd took as his cue to continue. Todd lowered the flashlight on either side of Neil’s head, who was again trying to stifle his smile.

“Thank you, good sir,” Neil said, bowing his head. 

Todd smiled and nodded in acknowledgment, even though it didn’t make sense for Neil to be thanking him. Todd realized he should probably help Neil up, and extended a hand to him, suddenly very conscious of the sweat budding on his palm. Neil took his hand with a smile and bounced to his feet, snatching the flashlight from Todd’s free hand. Neil tucked the flashlight back into his coat pocket, before turning back toward Todd. Neil seemed to be evaluating him, looking him up and down. 

“What?” 

“I like the secret VIP only Theodore Anderson,” Neil declared confidently, nodding to himself. 

“Ugh, can you please forget I ever told you about that?” Todd dragged his hand over his face, terrified that this Theodore thing was going to haunt him for as long as Neil knew him. 

“Unfortunately, no,” Neil answered with mock sympathy, putting his hand to his heart.

“Neil,” Todd protested, a slight twinge of impatience in his voice.

“I want to know things about you! I don’t just want to go around forgetting them,” Neil defended with an earnest laugh in his voice. And, of course, Neil found a way to be sweet about it, and Todd couldn’t help but conclude that it was worth the embarrassment. 

“I want that, too,” Todd replied, so quietly that he wasn’t sure if Neil would be able to hear him. But Neil must have heard him after all, because that sent him into a story about his mother’s fascination with classic paintings, and how he and Charlie had been dragged to art museums on weekends and all the chaos that had ensued, but how Neil had gradually developed a knowledge and an appreciation for the art. How he’d wanted to talk to his mother about it but he was too worried about getting it “wrong” or not understanding the meaning behind it. How Mr. Keating would’ve told him not to worry too much about getting it right, that appreciating it was enough. 

Todd told Neil about his casual interest in the piano, deciding not to get into the way he used it to self-soothe. He didn’t like to reveal just how much his nervousness had affected him throughout his life. He’d been taught to believe that it was a failure on his part, yet another way that he was unable to live up to expectations. But then he was telling Neil exactly that, and Neil was nodding along with an ease that made Todd consider that maybe it was a less embarrassing admission than he’d thought.

They talked about God, and growing up with religion, and how neither of them really knew what to believe anymore. They talked about college, and what classes they’d take if it were up to them, and about how much easier it would be to sneak out of college dorms than it was to sneak out at Hellton. Todd wasn’t sure what exactly they’d be sneaking out for, given that all the Dead Poets initiates would be dispersed to the various colleges of their parents’ choosing, but Todd allowed himself to live in the fantasy of the moment. Neil’s version of college sounded amazing. Certainly much more exciting than how Jeffrey had described it. 

Todd had even told Neil about his time at Balincrest, a topic that he normally considered strictly off-limits since he’d been here. He avoided the particularly vulnerable details, but he had explained his history of failing grades in his youth, each year of inadequate scores delaying his transfer to Welton. It had been a complicated mess, some of which Todd found himself awkwardly attempting to explain, purely so that Neil didn’t think he was too stupid to pass middle school math, and which revolved around Todd’s tendency to freeze up and shut down when he got overwhelmed. That inspired Neil to tell a story about Knox getting caught with a decidedly non-school-appropriate poster that he’d kept under his bed his freshman year - like a moron, Neil felt the need to clarify - and the probably-over-the-top punishment that ensued.

The conversation started to blur as the night went on, and as they got more tired, they laughed easier, and soon they had been reduced to nothing but half-sentences and giggling like little kids. At some point, Neil had sprawled out on the black shingles and started picking at the bits of asphalt while he talked. He seemed to have completely moved on from whatever had been bothering him, to Todd’s relief. 

By the time they decided they should go back inside - they did have an early morning rehearsal after all - the sky was already starting to lighten. They snuck back through the hallways, hiding all the evidence that they’d been through the storage room at all, and made their way back into their little dorm room, which somehow seemed much smaller now that Todd had seen the vastness of the Welton grounds from 50-feet up.

When the two of them got into bed, Todd completely forgot he’d ever been tired.

Chapter Text

“Todd,” Neil whispered, shaking him awake by the shoulder. Todd barely registered Neil’s voice at first, still half-asleep, but when Neil’s shaking got more insistent, Todd propped himself up on one elbow, wiping the sleep out of his face. 

The year was 1959. December 2nd. Asscrack of dawn. Todd Anderson was 17, and wished he was still asleep.

He’d been having that same dream, the dream he’d been having again and again, night after night. Staring into Neil’s endless brown eyes, delicately touching his hair, and Neil whispering his name like it was something sacred, like it was a secret shared by two. The dream went on for longer than normal, though, Todd simply staring into Neil’s eyes, the two both enveloped in the warmth of comfortable silence. Todd hadn’t been dreading the dream as much anymore. There was something comforting about it. He was in so deep that it was worth the shame and guilt just to get to look into those brown eyes, every detail perfectly imprinted into Todd’s unconscious mind. And, sure, that was not a normal way to feel about your roommate, but as always, Todd pushed that thought away. 

Waking up from that dream wasn’t too bad either, though. Neil was smiling in Todd’s face like a kid on Christmas, his smile only widening when he saw Todd slowly open his eyes. Neil had an apple in his hand, which he shoved into Todd’s palm, closing Todd’s hand around the apple with his own. 

“Let’s get going,” Neil said with his standard enthusiasm. Todd hadn’t meant to sleep in. He was supposed to wake Neil up today, not the other way around. He found an apology forming on his lips, but Neil put a finger to Todd’s mouth, silencing him before he could speak. His finger grazed Todd’s lips ever so slightly when he pulled it away, making the hair on the back of Todd's neck stand up, even though he was barely awake.

“Todd, it’s alright, you don’t need to apologize. We’re up now. Eat your apple. We gotta rehearse.” Neil understood Todd in a way he had never experienced before. And as much as he loved that, part of him worried that Neil’s power of understanding him extended to the parts of him that he wanted to keep secret. Tendrils of compassion, of understanding, that reached past the superficial and into the center of Todd, wrapping around his heart. And by now, Todd’s heart was completely entangled.

“You didn’t have to do that…” Todd mumbled, feeling his face heat up for the millionth time. 

“I know,” Neil replied easily, flashing his signature playful smile. In those two words, so much was said. And even in just those two words, another problem became obvious. Neil was too good, too earnest, too pure for awkward, tragic Todd Anderson. Todd hated himself for taking this perfect friendship, this perfect, perfect boy, and infecting all of it with whatever had been festering inside of him. Lately, he hated nearly everything about himself.

But God, he sure didn’t hate Neil. He was suffocatingly, nauseatingly, heart-achingly incapable of hating Neil Perry. Even though Neil was responsible for the cacophony taking place in Todd's head, even though Neil might drive Todd completely and utterly insane, Todd could never hate him, not even for a second. 

“Come on, Anderson, on your feet.” Neil grabbed both of Todd’s hands, seemingly ignoring the apple in one of his palms, and pulled him up in a sudden, jerky movement. In an instant, Todd was on his feet, his hands were in Neil’s, and their faces were inches apart. Todd nearly lost his balance, but Neil steadied him easily. Neil always seemed to be doing that. Steadying him. Keeping him upright. 

“I’m- I’m sorry- I- uh…” Todd looked away, ashamed of himself, and took to biting the inside of his cheek rather than his lips so Neil wouldn’t call him out on it.

“It’s all good, weirdo,” Neil said with another sweet smile, letting go of Todd’s hands and crossing over to the front of the room. He grabbed Todd’s jacket and tossed it over to him, Todd clumsily attempting to catch it before it smacked him in the face. Todd took that as confirmation he wasn’t getting changed out of his pajamas this morning. No skin off his teeth. Still, Todd’s heart ached ever-so-slightly at Neil’s innocent comment. He couldn't help but imagine what Neil would say if he really knew just how weird Todd was after all. Just thinking about it made Todd feel sick. But the nausea was quickly replaced with another feeling entirely when Neil grabbed his hand again, pulling him through the doorway into the hall. Neil looked up and down the hall, searching for any wandering Welton staff. Todd could only stare at their joined hands, feeling the warmth of Neil’s hand flooding his own cold one. Looking at them, Todd decided that their hands fit nicely together, before thinking better of it and shaking his head slightly to clear the thought from his mind. 

His mind was so far away that when Neil started to pull him onward again, he nearly fell flat onto his face. Neil took off down the stairs, Todd gracelessly following behind him, gripping tightly to Neil’s hand. For a second, he forgot everything weighing on him, and how damn early it was, and felt like, in that moment, he must have been the luckiest person in the universe. 

As soon as they’d reached the bottom of the stairs, Neil had dropped Todd’s hand, which left Todd feeling bitingly cold, even though they were still inside. Neil pushed the doors to the courtyard open, Todd following closely behind. The doors fell closed softly. Neil looked up into the sky, seemingly judging the probability that it would start snowing again, before making up his mind and pulling out his script from under his jacket, where he’d been carrying it. 

“From where we left off?” Todd asked as Neil handed him the script. Neil nodded, clearly lost in thought already. Todd loved watching Neil get into character. He wondered if Neil’s extensive internal routine was truly necessary, or if it was simply another dramatic flare, another charming quirk that added to the mosaic of Neil. 

Todd knew better than to start giving Neil his cue lines until he’d finished his routine, watching Neil’s face as he ran through whatever thoughts helped him channel his inner “Puck.” Todd tried to keep his expression neutral as he watched Neil, but he kept having to tug the corners of his mouth back down. Soon, Neil was ready, and Todd began to thumb through the script, looking for the page where they’d left off. He found the last line he remembered and began to recite. It always took Todd a while to warm up to the level of drama that Neil expected from him. 

“Come, thou gentle day, For if but once thou show me thy gray light, I’ll find Demetrius and revenge this spite,” Todd half-heartedly delivered Lysander’s line. He could tell Neil was biting back his pressing urge to demand more theatrics from Todd. 

“Ho, ho, ho! Coward, why com’st thou not?” Neil’s voice boomed, pointing a finger at Todd accusatorily on the word “coward.” Todd winced, shushing Neil and looking around nervously. Once it was clear that no one was coming, Todd scanned through the script to make sure Neil had said the line correctly before moving on to the next one. If Charlie had heard the phrase “why com’st thou not,” Todd was sure he would have plenty of dirty jokes to make. Despite his crude sense of humor and abrasiveness, Todd had grown fond of Charlie Dalton. Todd felt lucky, though, that the little ritual he and Neil had developed of reading his lines in the mornings had remained just the two of them.

“Abide me, if thou dar’st, for well I wot thou runn’st before me, shifting every place, and dar’st not stand nor look me in the face. Where art thou now?” Todd recited, slightly less robotically than his previous line. The sky was practically grey, a bit of sunlight starting to peek through. Todd watched the gears turning in Neil’s head as he pulled his next line out of his memory. Todd found everything about Neil fascinating. Even his little facial expressions. Neil snapped his fingers, remembering his line and beginning to speak with the same passion as always.

“Come hither. I am here,” He said, putting on a goofy exaggerated voice. They went on like that for a while, alternating lines for another half-hour or so, Todd gradually easing into the characters. He’d learned more about each character’s personality through their routine readings and made enough of an effort to incorporate that into his reading that Neil wouldn’t be completely disappointed in him. The snow had started up again, and Todd leaned forward to shield the script from getting wet. Snow was clinging to Neil’s hair and eyelashes, but he didn’t seem to mind the cold. Todd couldn’t help but stare, watching Neil’s breath rise in plumes as he spoke. 

“Here will I rest me till the break of day. Heavens shield Lysander if they mean a fray!” Todd tried to make his voice sound more feminine as he delivered the line as Hermia, smiling slightly at the sound of it. Neil stepped closer, his snow-covered eyelashes wide open to reveal his glinting eyes, taking on the enthusiasm that Todd only ever saw in his roommate when he was acting. Todd felt something in his gut twist up, and he wondered if it was possible that his emotions were housed in his stomach rather than his brain. 

“On the ground sleep sound.” Todd froze up as he saw Neil moving closer to him. “I’ll apply to your eye, gentle lover, remedy.” Neil reached his hand towards Todd’s face as he spoke, running his frigid thumb over Todd’s eyelid with an innocent, easy smile. Todd laughed as Neil did, but unlike Neil’s, his smile didn’t quite feel easy. Todd knew Neil was acting, that the smile that spread to his eyes when he looked into Todd’s and called him “lover” was only a reflection of Puck’s emotions, but still, Todd felt nauseous again. 

He didn’t know what exactly to call the feeling that flooded every inch of his body when he was with Neil. It was easiest to describe it as a kind of aching, a kind of injury that Neil had inflicted on him by merely existing. An injury that had to be healed, that couldn’t be touched, further examined, or left open to fester. It would never heal, Todd decided, if he kept picking at it.

They’d reached the end of the scene. Todd looked at Neil, searching for some confirmation about what he wanted to do next. 

“So, should we go in…?” Todd asked uneasily. 

“No-” Neil started, surprisingly abruptly. “No, let’s stay for a bit. The sun is gonna come up soon, look-” Neil pointed to the east, where, sure enough, the light from the sunrise was starting to creep in. 

“Are you sure? You’re- you’re not cold?” Todd asked, looking at Neil’s pink cheeks and nose. 

“How many times are we gonna get to do this, huh? Life is short. Why not stay out for a little longer to see the sunrise? Carpe diem, Todd,” Neil asserted, nudging Todd good-naturedly. 

“Right…” Todd trailed off, never exactly sure how to respond to Neil. He was freezing, and couldn’t imagine Neil wasn’t feeling the same way, but Todd was grateful for any quiet moments he got to spend with Neil. The quiet moments were the best ones, he thought. They felt fulfilling in a way that nothing else at Welton did, like sitting silently with Neil was the only time he didn’t feel like a massive hole had been bored through his chest. In the silence, the fear of things going unsaid was quieted. There was no need to speak, no need to carefully monitor his tone and his words, just silence and peace and Neil. 

Todd didn’t allow himself to wonder about why that was, about why being with Neil was the only time he ever felt like he could breathe, when at the same time Neil made him so breathless. That paradoxical feeling was far too complicated to dissect at 6:00 a.m., Todd decided. He didn’t think he wanted an answer quite yet, though, as Neil scootched over towards him to get a better view of the sky. Whatever it was that seemed to hang between them, it sure was damn unnerving. They were facing the dock, a place where the pair had practiced Neil’s lines weeks prior, before the lake had frozen over. 

“It’s so beautiful,” Neil whispered, almost to himself. Like he couldn’t stand not to say it. Todd turned to look at Neil, studying his pink face and the shape of his neck. 

“Yeah. Beautiful,” Todd muttered in return, quickly turning away from Neil to look back at the - admittedly less compelling - sunrise over the lake. 

“We should do this more often,” Neil declared, turning to affix his gaze on Todd. “I love this.” Todd felt his face warm up so much so that he briefly wondered if steam would be coming off of his skin in this cold weather. Neil had said those words to him before, on another chilly morning when they were reading lines together. That time, Neil had been quick to explain that he meant acting, that acting, not the extra time spent with Todd, was what he loved. This time, however, Todd couldn’t help but feel like he wasn’t only talking about acting. 

“I’d like that,” Todd answered, not sure what else to say. He had a hard time computing why Neil seemingly enjoyed Todd’s company. It didn’t make sense to him. Amazing, extraordinary Neil Perry would have been better matched by almost any other student at Welton, Todd figured. Todd was certainly the least interesting out of all the society members. The least opinionated, least talkative, least sure of himself. Whereas Neil… Neil was everything. 

“This has been my best year at Welton, you know,” Neil said, still looking at the blossoming colors of the sunrise. Todd cocked his head towards Neil’s, perking up eagerly at the implication. 

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” He asked earnestly, although he figured the answer would be fairly obvious. This was the first year that Neil had gotten to act, as strange as that seemed to Todd. If he had to guess, he would’ve assumed Neil had been training for this for years. Neil smirked at Todd’s question, to Todd’s confusion.

“Well, since you asked, I’ve really liked meeting certain new people this year,” Neil teased, smacking Todd on the side of the head with the back of his hand playfully. “And the club, and Mr. Keating, and the play…” Neil continued listing things that made this year at Welton so special, going on and on about the play and soccer and rowing with his Neil-ish passion. But Todd stopped listening shortly after Neil started, his eyes locked with Neil’s in earnest surprise.

Did Neil really mean that? Or was he just trying to be polite? It was hard to tell with that boy.

“It’s been a good year for me too, I’m-” Todd awkwardly fumbled through his response once Neil had finished his lengthy diatribe. “I’m really glad you’re my roommate.” Was that cheesy? Was that stupid? Todd never knew. “I just mean that- um- you know- I don’t know what I’d do if I had to room with Charlie or Cameron or something... I’m glad it’s you-” He was only digging himself in deeper at this point. 

“Yeah,” Neil said, meeting Todd’s eyes and easing all of Todd’s worries with one glance. “I’m glad, too.” After a few moments of comfortable silence, Neil exhaled calmly, reaffixing his gaze on the rising sun. It took Todd a moment longer to tear his eyes away from Neil, staring at the side of his face, admiring the shape of his nose and his jaw for a moment too long before turning away. He wondered, fleetingly, what it would feel like to run his fingers across Neil’s jaw, to cup Neil’s rosy face in his hands-

“Did you finish your history essay?” Todd blurted out, awkwardly loud and sudden, trying to silence his brain. Neil laughed, and Todd suddenly worried that the other boy had somehow read his mind and understood the reason for Todd’s interjection. He couldn’t completely dismiss the possibility, not with Neil.

“Just watch the sunrise, Whitman,” Neil dismissed Todd’s question, readjusting how he was sitting and propping himself up on his arms. As though the universe was testing Todd’s weakening resolve, he noticed that, now, Neil’s knee was pressed against his own. To make matters worse, Neil didn’t scoot away. Todd opened his mouth, and closed it as soon as he had. Sure. He’d just watch the sunrise. Just watch the sunrise, with Neil Perry, with their knees touching. Easy.

Todd wanted to scream. 

He wasn’t sure how long passed in silence, Todd feeling like the only part of his body that wasn’t freezing was the side of his knee, still pressed against Neil’s, where heat seemed to be blossoming. Neil’s face was a portrait of concentration, studying the sunrise like he’d never seen one before. Todd was always amazed by how much vibrancy and color Neil could find in the world around him. Todd had never quite matched Neil’s love for living, he felt more or less apathetic about his own existence, but he hoped to emulate it one day. As the comfortable silence dragged on, Todd started to wonder about the time, and worried about making it to breakfast. But he dismissed the thought quickly. If he was honest with himself, he’d have to have a teacher standing over him and shouting for him to move an inch from where he was right now. Screw breakfast.

“Theodore?” Neil’s tragic attempt at a British accent broke the trance Todd was in. Todd rolled his eyes, regretting ever mentioning his little secret to Neil, but felt a smile creeping onto his face nonetheless. 

“Yes, Neil?” Todd replied in a monotone voice, trying to convey his abject disapproval, which only made Neil smile wider. Neil opened his mouth to respond, looking so intently into Todd’s eyes that it almost made Todd squirm, but no words came out. Todd leaned in slightly, listening, waiting. Something indescribable flashed across Neil’s face, and suddenly his smile was no longer his classic Neil Perry grin, but something small, natural, almost intimate. Todd felt his heart skip a beat. 

He was certain that no one had ever looked at him the way Neil Perry was right then, like he was something special and fascinating and important. Even if it wasn’t true, even if he was still the same not-quite-six-dollar Todd he’d always been, in that moment he believed for the first time that he might have been something more. Todd felt a familiar shiver travel through him. The two of them sat like that, both seemingly unwilling to be the first to move, to look away.

“What is it?” Todd asked, his voice coming out slightly too loud, fracturing the delicate something that had been hanging in the air between them. Neil’s standard grin came back.

“Nothing,” Neil replied simply, still grinning, holding eye contact for just a beat longer before turning away again, laughing breathily while looking down at his knees. Todd expected to feel like something inside of him was dying the minute Neil looked away, but instead he felt something sweeter, softer. Like satisfaction, a feeling Todd didn’t know well.

“Nothing?” Todd asked with a smile that felt vulnerably sincere. He didn’t even really care if Neil elaborated, he just wanted him to look at him again. And, thank God, Neil did. Todd wondered if Neil’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much. 

“Nothing,” Neil repeated teasingly, softly, in a way that made Todd ache. The two of them were face to face, less than a foot apart, and suddenly a deeply worrisome thought seemed to take complete control of Todd’s mental faculties.

Todd wanted, more than he had ever wanted anything, to kiss Neil Perry.

And, shit, there it was. The thing he’d been avoiding.

And Neil was right there, inches away, looking at Todd with those big brown glittering eyes, almost expectantly- 

Todd ripped his gaze away from Neil - mesmerizing, magnificent Neil - and dragged his hand over his face, as though he could wipe away the warmth flooding his cheeks and ears. Neil was still smiling at him, watching, noticing. 

“Alright. Nothing,” Todd conceded, putting his hands up in surrender jokingly, trying to avoid catching Neil’s eye. He tried to play off how flustered he was as frustration, but he couldn’t tell if Neil was buying it. In the moment, though, it was taking all of his self-control to act remotely normal while all he was thinking was kiss him kiss him kiss him, and he shouldn’t have been thinking that in the first place because Neil was his friend and Neil was a boy and Todd couldn’t just think things like that about a boy. He couldn’t do that.

Todd had been dreading this unavoidable realization since he’d met Neil. All throughout his adolescence, Todd had been vaguely aware of something… off about him, a quiet whisper that he could tune out if he distracted himself. There had been cases where the whisper had gotten louder, like when he had to go through the mortifying ordeal of communal showers, but he’d always been able to silence it, to tell himself it was fine, that he was normal. But then he met Neil Perry. The nagging whisper became a scream, endlessly echoing in Todd’s mind since he first saw the handsome face that popped up behind the Welton “excellence” banner during his first day. And, of course, that handsome, fascinating boy was his roommate. Just his luck.

He really had meant to avoid Neil. He had intended to see him only when absolutely necessary, to avoid the source of his undesirable feelings, just like he’d done at Balincrest. He winced at the memory of asking his 9th-grade chemistry teacher to put him at a different table so that he could avoid sitting next to Ben Jameson and his perfect teeth. But Neil hadn’t been nearly so easy to hide from. Neil had dragged Todd to the society meetings, and dismissed every excuse Todd could come up with to prevent himself from getting too close. And then Todd was getting invited to be part of things, and to spend time with Neil and Neil’s friends, and it would’ve been rude to decline, wouldn’t it? He didn’t want to be rude. That was all it was, he’d told himself, to justify how close he was letting himself get, how much he was allowing himself to want. 

And then, the dream. An inescapable manifestation of Todd’s subconscious. He knew he’d gone too far, that he’d allowed himself too far down this path, but it would have been nearly impossible to back out now. The first night he had the dream, back in November, Todd woke up and saw Neil, still asleep, still snoring, and couldn’t help but cry quietly until morning came. He didn’t want this. He wanted more than anything to be normal, to feel normal, to think the things that normal boys his age thought. He wanted to see Charlie’s Playboy magazines and feel flushed and breathless like the way he felt when he saw Neil’s bare torso when he stepped out of the shower. 

It was all another way that Todd Anderson failed to live up to his family name. Not only was he not as successful as his brother, not as smart, not as handsome, not as worthy, but he was… well, Todd wasn’t exactly sure what he was. But whatever he was, he was poisonous. He was cursed, punished, condemned. He wanted to kiss Neil Perry, and it was a wretched thing. 

“Oh, shit,” Neil exclaimed, startling Todd out of his spiraling thoughts. He realized he was shaking, and was relieved to see Neil looking down at his watch. He wasn’t sure how long had passed, but the sun certainly seemed higher than it had earlier. “We’re about to be late for Latin. Come on. We gotta get dressed.” Neil was on his feet surprisingly quickly, extending his hand to Todd again. Todd briefly considered refusing to take Neil’s hand. If Todd cared about Neil, he’d stay the hell away from him and keep Neil safe from his sickness -

He put his hand in Neil’s and pulled himself to his feet. 

“Last night you said we could skip Latin,” Todd teased, dropping Neil’s hand and turning to walk briskly back towards the doors, challenging Neil to chase after him. Neil jogged to keep up and grabbed Todd’s arm to slow him down. 

“But I remembered I’m shit at Latin!” Neil defended with a whine, letting go of Todd’s arm once he slowed down his pace. Todd laughed, an honest, easy laugh.

“You’d be better if you actually studied instead of mooching off Meeks,” he retorted, which earned him a smack to the back of the head, ruffling his already messy hair. He gave Neil a look and made a big show of shaking his head forebodingly. He stooped to the ground and grabbed a handful of snow, packing it into a loose snowball and throwing it straight at Neil’s chest. Neil looked down at his chest like he’d been shot, before looking up at Todd with a smile so big that Todd felt like his heart might spontaneously combust.

“Oh, you’re so dead, Whitman,” Neil said with feigned seriousness, stepping closer to shoulder-check Todd, still smiling his gorgeous smile. Todd couldn’t help but smile back while he taunted Neil with a sarcastic “Yeah?”, jabbing his elbow at Neil’s stomach, not hard enough to hurt him, but hard enough to make him gasp in mock frustration. Neil scooped up a handful of snow and stuffed it down Todd’s collar, making him squirm as the cold traveled down his skin. 

“Gah- Neil!” He shouted, turning to tackle him while Neil darted away to try to escape with a loud cackle. Todd managed to wrap his arms around Neil’s waist and threw the two of them to the ground, the snow making the fall completely painless. And just like that they were play-fighting in the snow like children, cursing each other out and laughing like no one could hear, their Welton-issued pajamas covered in snow and mud, both of them struggling to get up and pulling each other back down. 

After a few minutes, they called a truce, both breathlessly laughing with their backs in the snow. Neil turned to face Todd, his hair soaking wet and his face flushed from the exertion of their roughhousing, and moved his hand, just a matter of millimeters, until his pinky was touching Todd’s, so slightly that it might have been an accident. Todd felt that same electric shock travel through his body again.

Everything in him was screaming, the sound of chaos eclipsing all of Todd’s rational thought. But there was one thing Todd Anderson knew for certain. It would be no easy feat to avoid Neil Perry.

Chapter Text

1959, December 4th. Todd stared at the date at the top of his otherwise blank notebook page. Todd Anderson was 17, and was supposed to be thinking about Latin, but since Wednesday morning, he seemed to be incapable of thinking about anything other than Neil Perry’s lips. 

The past two days had been a unique type of agony. Todd had lost any hope of dismissing his nightmares and daydreams as errant thoughts, or a problem that would somehow resolve itself. That fact was painfully obvious, as Todd continually snuck glances at the back of Neil’s head, admiring the soft curve of his neck and thinking, thinking, thinking. 

Todd had managed to keep his newly discovered feelings under wraps for the time being. But with each passing moment, it became more and more difficult to suppress them and distract himself. Todd was starting to worry that it was only a matter of time before he made some slip, particularly because of Neil’s strange ability to lower Todd’s defenses. It wouldn’t be the first time that Neil somehow managed to extract Todd’s secrets from him. But revealing this secret wouldn’t earn Todd any good-natured teasing or nicknames like the “deep, dark secrets” he’d confessed on the roof had. Revealing this secret would earn him nothing but disgust and contempt. Todd could nearly hear the vile words Todd had been calling himself for the past two days coming out of Neil’s mouth, venom pouring from his lips-

His lips...

Latin. Todd was in Latin. Focus on Latin.

He had taken to nervously drumming his pencil against his desk, having completely neglected to take notes for the first half of the lecture, and was now scrambling to get caught up. Todd was decent at Latin. Most of it was just memorizing, and Todd had an adequate memory. Today, however, the words might as well have been chicken scratches on the chalkboard. He was sure, however, that the English translation of the phrase on the board was not related to the outline of Neil’s shoulders through his white button-up, but given how much of Todd’s mind that thought was consuming as he tried to read the unfamiliar words, he began to consider the possibility. 

“Mr. Anderson?” Mr. McAllister’s voice broke Todd out of his trance, the man snapping his fingers in Todd’s direction. Todd’s head popped up, his eyes going wide from the sudden attention. A few students laughed under their breath, the sound immediately prompting Todd’s cheeks to flush bright red. Todd tried to think of something to say in response but was woefully unaware of what had been asked of him to begin with. 

“Y-yes, sir?” Todd sputtered, which earned a few more chuckles. Even more alarmingly, Todd could feel Neil’s eyes on him now, but he pretended not to notice.

“The question?” Mr. McAllister prompted dryly, which clarified nothing and left Todd even more panicked and red. 

“Could you-” He started, before running out of breath and realizing he’d forgotten to inhale since Mr. McAllister addressed him. “Could you repeat th-the question? Please?” Todd wanted very much to disappear from the face of the earth as he failed to control his stuttering.

“The past tense translation of ‘teach,” Mr. Anderson. Which is, in fact, what I am trying to do, if you will offer me the time of day.” More laughter. Not from Neil, though, Todd noticed. Fortunately, Todd thought he knew the answer to this particular question. He remembered studying a list of basic verbs a few weeks ago, and could picture the various conjugations on the yellowed page. 

“The p-past tense translation of teach, sir, is d-docuit, um- d-o-c-u-i-t,” Todd spelled aloud, confident that he was correct but his voice shaky nonetheless. Neil was still looking at him. Todd wished he would quit it.

“That is correct, Mr. Anderson. Though, next time I call on you, I expect you to have been listening to my question the first time around,” Mr. McAllister chastised. Todd shrunk in on himself. 

“Y-yes, sir,” Todd mumbled, looking down at his notebook to avoid eye contact with the man. Mr. McAllister lightly hit Todd’s desk, making Todd wince while his teacher meandered back to the front of the classroom. Todd turned his head, unintentionally catching Charlie’s eye, who gave him a look that Todd wasn’t sure how to identify. Knox, who was seated just behind Todd, clapped him on the shoulder in what Todd assumed was meant to be a gesture of support. Todd brushed Knox’s hand off of him, not wanting to draw any more attention to himself than he already had. 

“Now,” Mr. McAllister continued his lecture, “verb conjugations in Latin are very different than those in English. For example, the word that Mr. Anderson here just shared with us, meaning ‘he taught,’ could not be used to say ‘they taught,’ where the word would be ‘docuerunt.’” Mr. McAllister pronounced his Latin with precision, unlike Neil, who never seemed to settle on which vowel he was saying when they practiced vocabulary words with the study group. 

God, did Todd have to make everything about Neil? Todd would’ve laughed at himself if the situation weren’t so agonizing. 

“You will be expected to understand all of these conjugations for the exam next Monday, where you will be translating a poem into Latin.” Todd perked up at that. He wondered if Mr. Keating and Mr. McAllister had been talking, if maybe Keating’s unusual teaching styles had influenced McAllister’s usually much less creative assignments. 

“What poem?” A voice that Todd couldn’t place came from the back of the room. (Even though Welton was a small school, Todd was very skilled in not meeting people.) Whoever it was, they hadn’t raised their hand, which elicited a sigh from McAllister. 

“I cannot simply tell you the poem, Mr. Waterson, or students might prepare their translations beforehand,” McAllister explained. “In fact-” He continued on his passionate explanation of the importance of being able to go beyond memorization when learning a language, but Todd was no longer listening. Neil had adjusted how he was sitting in his chair, his shoulders hunched forward, and his elbows rested on the firm desk. He was not a particularly impressive sight, slouching and drumming his foot against the floor, but Todd was enraptured all the same. For the past few days, every moment where Todd hadn’t been distracted had been filled with idle thoughts about the boy. He couldn’t seem to pull his eyes away from Neil’s hunched form, despite how badly he wanted to.

Todd had an overactive imagination. Sometimes, that worked to his benefit, allowing him to invent wild stories to entertain himself when he was left alone as a child, or to let the characters in books he read emerge from the pages and reenact their tales of love and woe in front of his very eyes. Now, though, Todd cursed his imagination, which was putting vivid images in his mind of soft lips meeting his own, gentle hands running through his hair suddenly turning more forceful, pulling him closer. The smell of aftershave and cigarette smoke, and the distinctive smell of Neil’s skin, met with the sound of quickening breath, warm against Todd’s face, warm everywhere- 

Todd’s pencil tore through his notebook paper. He quickly adjusted how he was sitting, feeling a powerful shiver travel through him and a sudden sense of burning in his core. These were not the kind of things he should be thinking about in Latin class at nine in the morning. Todd cleared his throat awkwardly, feeling every inch of his skin flush red. This was going to become a real problem. 

Whatever was going on, whatever Todd decided to call these alarming feelings, it could not be allowed to continue. Whatever this was, whatever it was he was feeling toward Neil, it could not be permitted. Not even in the confines of Todd’s own mind. It was a sin, a crime, a repulsive manifestation that proved that Todd was a…

More venomous words ran through his head. Words that he had been too afraid to say aloud, in the darkened second-floor bathroom past midnight, staring at himself in the mirror the night after his realization. Words that he was too afraid to write down, as he held his shaky hand over a blank sheet of notebook paper once Neil had been asleep for long enough that the sound of his snoring filled the room, hoping to compose a poem that would neatly tie up all of the complexities of his feelings. All he’d managed to write was two words, punctuated with a comma, the loudest thought running through his head as he glanced between the paper and the sleeping form of his roommate. The words that had begun Todd’s half-hearted prayers and confessionals for the past few weeks in the small chapel the Welton students were dragged to each Sunday morning. “Forgive me,”

The rest of the page remained starkly blank.

But even if Todd couldn’t find the words for the endless series of fireworks lighting up inside his mind, the secret Todd had been keeping from himself for years was out now. And it couldn’t exactly be shoved back in, not when Todd was having to tug on his collar to cool himself down in the poorly insulated classroom in December. 

Fine. If he couldn’t calm down, at least he could take his damn notes.

Docere.

Doceō.

Docēre

Docuī. 

Doctum-

Damnit. 

Todd slammed his notebook closed, which earned him a few looks from the people sitting in his immediate vicinity, and wondered if this was what addicts felt like. He’d heard stories - admittedly, from his fearmongering, religious parents - about alcoholics catching a glimpse of someone drinking their drug of choice, even from afar, and losing all their self-control. And for Todd, even just writing “doc” again and again had been another reminder of Neil. The connection to Neil’s potential future career was tenuous enough as it was. If this kept going, soon enough, everything on the face of the earth would remind him of Neil in some way or another. Todd put his head in his hands and closed his eyes, scrunching up his face in frustration.

Thankfully, the class was nearly over, because Todd felt quite certain that if he didn’t get out of this room, and soon, he would forever be known as the first ever person to literally die from embarrassment.

When McAllister dismissed the class, Todd practically leaped from his seat, hellbent on getting a drink of water to cool down the fire burning inside of him. As soon as he’d managed to clear the doorway without engaging any of his friends, he walked as quickly as he could without breaking into a jog, finding the nearest water fountain and drinking until he had to gasp for air. 

Todd’s next class was, thankfully, one of the few classes he and Neil didn’t share. But Todd was certain that not being with Neil, would only mean his thoughts were consumed by Neil's absence. It would be no less agonizing than when his thoughts were consumed by every single detail that Todd could manage to absorb without Neil catching him staring. Todd sighed, wiping the water from his lips, and noticed a dry piece of skin that caught against the back of his hand. Todd bit the skin on his lip, ripping upward until the stinging overtook his other senses. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to breathe away the pain, bracing himself for the rest of another impossible day. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Todd wasn’t sure where exactly he was going. Right after the last class of the day had been dismissed, Todd had made up an excuse about why he wasn’t joining the rest of his friends in Charlie’s room to catch up on some much-needed Latin studying, something about needing to call his parents to check in about his grades. Neil had raised his eyebrows slightly at that, being the only member of the group who knew just how little Todd’s parents cared about him, but he hadn’t questioned it in front of the others. The swelling of appreciation in Todd’s heart had only confirmed the reason for his premature departure. He needed to do something about this… problem. That was absolutely crucial, he reminded himself, as he allowed his legs to guide him rather than his brain. And with that desire in mind, Todd wasn’t surprised when he realized he’d walked directly to Mr. Keating’s office. 

It might have been a horrible idea, Todd realized, to even attempt to speak with someone about this issue. But if anyone would know how to answer the strange, personal inquiries of a student, it would be Mr. Keating, the strangest and most personal teacher Todd had ever encountered. Plus, if Todd didn’t talk to someone about this soon, he worried he’d blurt something out to Neil, and most likely destroy his first and only true friendship in the process. The thought was unimaginable, and it was that fear that drove Todd to ignore his inhibitions.

“Mr. Keating?” Todd gently rapped his knuckles against the sturdy wooden door, immediately regretting his decision as soon as he heard the wood floors inside the room creaking. Within moments, the door was open, and Mr. Keating’s stocky frame appeared before him. 

“Mr. Anderson,” Mr. Keating softly remarked, a look of pleasant surprise on his face. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Todd wasn’t quite sure how to answer that question. He opened his mouth and stammered uncertainly until Mr. Keating generously cut him off. 

“Come in, Todd. Have a seat. Would you like anything to drink? Tea? Coffee?” Mr. Keating led the way into the room, beckoning Todd to follow. Todd obeyed, tugging on his fingers and chewing his lips reflexively. As long as Neil wasn’t there to point it out, he figured, there was no use trying not to. 

“Tea would be good…” Todd awkwardly forced the words out of his mouth, surprised by how childish his voice sounded. 

“Tea it is!” Mr. Keating’s jovial voice made Todd feel more at ease, though he still felt queasy with nerves. Mr. Keating crossed away from Todd to prepare the drink. “Now, is there anything else I can do for you, aside from providing the tea?” With Mr. Keating’s back to him, Todd hoped he could muster the courage to explain the reason for his visit. 

“Um- Actually, yes-” Todd started, clearing his throat awkwardly. Mr. Keating didn’t interrupt, letting Todd take the time to form the words. “I need some… advice- I guess?” Todd wasn’t sure if advice was the right word. Maybe what he really wanted was someone to tell him he wasn’t nuts. He figured Mr. Keating had heard of much stranger things than what Todd was experiencing. 

“Does this advice pertain to my class? Or your poetry?” Mr. Keating asked, sitting down and putting a mug of steeping tea in front of Todd. Todd accepted the mug graciously, before turning his words over in his mouth to put together a coherent response to his teacher’s question. What was he supposed to say? Hello, teacher of mine, I can’t stop thinking about my best friend’s lips. Help??

“It’s not about… class- not really anyway-” Todd suddenly felt his ears turning red. This was stupid. “I’m sorry, this was a bad idea…” He trailed off, his shoulders tensing in embarrassment. 

“Todd,” Mr. Keating’s voice was soft but confident in the same way Neil’s was. Todd thought Neil might be a lot like him when he grew up. “I’m honored that you’d come to me for advice. That is every teacher’s dream, young man. Now, how can I be of service to you?” Mr. Keating made it sound so simple. Todd envied how dexterous the man was with his words. 

“It’s about-” Neil. Todd cleared his throat. “Someone.” He looked up at Mr. Keating, evaluating his expression. “I have this… problem…” Todd suddenly lost the ability to speak, certain that by putting these thoughts into words, he was condemning himself to a lifetime of hurt. He could deny it, he could keep denying it, he should keep denying it-

“I-” Todd exhaled shakily, willing himself to continue. “I have this problem. There’s someone- someone important-” Important was the best way that Todd could think to describe Neil. Not only important to him, but to the universe. “Someone who makes me feel… different. Different than I’ve ever felt before…” Todd stopped, hoping Mr. Keating would say something to put Todd’s rambling sentence out of its misery.

“I see.” Mr. Keating nodded to himself, contemplative, and blew on his tea through pursed lips. Unfortunately, that was all Mr. Keating had to say, and the burden of continuing the conversation fell back to Todd. 

“I don’t want it, though. I re- I really don’t…” Todd sipped his tea far too quickly, eager for any excuse to stop talking, and scrunched up his lips as the hot water seared his tongue.

“You don’t want it?” Mr. Keating repeated, prompting Todd to continue. Todd wanted Mr. Keating’s help, and he wouldn’t be able to get it if he didn’t explain. So he forced himself to respond, rather than obeying his reflexive desire to dart out of the room and never mention their conversation again.

“I don’t want to feel like this. Like- like I’m on fire whenever I’m next to h-” Todd winced, stopping himself from saying the word him . “This person.” Mr. Keating merely looked at Todd, the silence between them craving for further explanation . Todd gave in to that craving, words flowing out of him quickly, not like honey, but like a babbling brook. “Like, like- for the first time in my life, I’m really awake, and this person just makes me feel so- so real? Like I’m a real, actual person, and not just- the lesser Anderson. But it’s- it’s not a good feeling, it’s… scary. And I- I can’t stop doing stupid shit- sorry- stupid stuff- whenever we’re together. Like, earlier this week, we were practicing lines and-”

Shit. 

Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit-

Mr. Keating stopped stirring his tea, eyebrows slightly raised in a mixture of surprise and recognition, while Todd clamped a hand over his mouth, turning beet red in an instant. If Todd’s words hadn’t been damning enough, his reaction was just a nail in the coffin. He forcibly pulled his hand away from his searing hot face, trying to regain a modicum of dignity. 

Shit shit shit shit shit-

“Uh- I meant that- um…” Todd stumbled over his words, wringing his hands together and refusing to meet Mr. Keating’s eye. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest like a battering ram.

“Mr. Anderson-” Mr. Keating interjected before Todd cut him off again. 

“I- I just meant that- that I’ve been trying to-”

“Todd,” Mr. Keating interrupted more insistently now, reaching out to grab Todd’s shoulder across his desk. Once Mr. Keating’s hand found Todd’s shoulder, Todd realized how much he was shaking. Mr. Keating knew. He knew he knew he knew-

“Everything is alright, Todd. Slow down,” Mr. Keating soothed, running his thumb over Todd’s scrawny shoulder. Todd felt tears fighting to escape from his eyes, but he blinked them back quickly. The only possible thing that would make this situation worse would be if he started crying like a toddler. He had to think of some way to salvage this situation, to reclaim his life of normalcy here at Welton, to go back to the denial he’d grown so comfortable with. 

“It sounds like you’re having romantic troubles. Is that right?” Mr. Keating asked gently. 

Romantic? 

That felt wrong. Was that wrong? Was that even possible? Allowed? Todd was feeling more inclined to use the word perversion or condition , nothing so soft and saturated as romance. 

Instead of debating the question in his head any longer, Todd simply nodded, staring at his hands and biting at his lips so hard that the taste of blood reached his tongue in seconds. 

“Well, Todd, in many ways, romantic troubles are the toughest ones. That’s why there are so many poems about romance. It’s the most complicated, dramatic, and poetic part of being alive. Wouldn’t you say so?” Todd wasn’t sure if he’d call what he was experiencing poetic. It felt more grotesque, like Todd was staring at his own squishy, pulsating heart in someone else’s palms, the tissue throbbing and dripping with blood. 

“Is it supposed to be so-” Todd swallowed thickly, tugging at his sleeves. “What is it supposed to feel like?” Mr. Keating smiled earnestly. For whatever reason, he didn’t seem disgusted with Todd, nor eager to get him kicked out of Welton for his degeneracy. If he knew what Todd had just unwittingly confessed to, that was. 

“Well, I can’t answer that for you, Mr. Anderson. If everyone felt love the same way, there would be no poetry. Love is a wonderfully individual thing,” Mr. Keating explained, taking a sip of his tea with his same relaxed smile. Todd felt his chest tighten at how casually Mr. Keating threw around these loaded, suffocating words. Somehow, the words love and romance made Todd even sicker than the biting words he’d been repeating in his head. Whatever this feeling was, it certainly couldn’t be the feeling that made Whitman, Shakespeare, and Thoreau spin magic out of thin air. And if that poetic, easy feeling was love, or romance, then this certainly wasn’t that.

“Right…” Todd trailed off, stuffing his lip between his teeth again and clamping his jaw down. He couldn’t tell if it was just him, or if Mr. Keating’s room had gotten a lot hotter and stuffier since he’d entered. The air felt thick, like it took more effort than usual to take in a full breath. He took another sip of the scalding tea to try to clear his windpipe.

“Still, I’ve had my fair share of romantic struggles myself, young man. You’d be hard-pressed to find a lover of literature who hasn’t suffered some sort of tragic romance. If you’re looking for advice, you came to the right person,” Mr. Keating said with a wink and a smile. Normally Todd would’ve appreciated Mr. Keating’s fascinating charm, but in the moment he was too distracted to pay it much thought.

“I’m- I’m not sure where to start,” Todd admitted. He had wanted advice, that was for certain, but what advice exactly he’d been seeking, he was less certain about. 

“That’s quite alright, Mr. Anderson. Tell me as much or as little as you choose.” Mr. Keating took another sip of his tea, smiling good-naturedly. Todd lifted his own mug to his lips, searching madly for anything he could stomach admitting to Keating. After a few silent moments, where Todd began to worry that his head would start to smoke from how rapidly the gears were turning, Mr. Keating continued.

“You could start by telling me about that ‘stupid shit’ you’ve been doing-” Mr. Keating started. Todd choked mid-sip of his tea, shocked to hear a teacher at Welton ever curse, regardless of the circumstances. Of course, if anyone would, it would be Mr. Keating.

“I’m sorry f-for saying that, sir-” Todd started, but Mr. Keating dismissed him with a wave of his hand. Todd had picked up a bit of a cussing habit from Jeffery. It felt like one little secret thing they could share, one little act of rebellion from their parents’ expectations of them. It had been slipping out more lately, what with the insanity of Todd’s past few weeks.

“A poet has a right to the full breadth of the English vocabulary, Mr. Anderson. But do explain to me what exactly you mean by ‘stupid shit,’” Mr. Keating looked at Todd with the same fascination that Neil did, almost like he was trying to reach into Todd’s mind with his eyes, which didn’t help, because the whole point of meeting with Mr. Keating was to stop thinking about Neil. 

“I keep- I keep humiliating myself… And I really don’t want-” Todd cut himself off. He couldn’t just say Neil. “-this person to know, but I’m so obvious…” Todd rubbed at his face, pushing on his eyes until he saw stars. 

“And why would that be so terrible, Mr. Anderson? Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,” Mr. Keating smiled wistfully, almost like he wasn’t really looking at Todd but rather reminiscing on his own memories. Todd couldn’t agree with the man, however. Revealing this secret would not feel like gathering rosebuds, it would feel like clasping his hand around the thorns and dragging his hand up the length of the stem. Todd exhaled through his nose with a grimace, wondering if Mr. Keating would think Todd’s misery would make compelling poetry. 

“It would be worse than terrible,” Todd whispered, practically to himself. “I… It would ruin everything.” Being shamed, expelled, banished, wasn’t the only risk here. Neil might never talk to him again. And Todd wasn’t sure if he believed in hell, but he’d certainly been taught to. Part of him still feared the judgment of God. Now, he could nearly feel a pair of eyes, so massive that Todd could hardly comprehend it, staring at him from above. Watching his every move, waiting for a chance to condemn him.

“Forgive me for assuming, but if I’m understanding correctly, this person is another student here at Welton?” Another student here at Welton. Mr. Keating’s tactful, delicate way of saying another boy. 

Todd felt sick to his stomach. He briefly worried he might puke all over his favorite teacher. Instead, Todd opened his mouth and closed it again, looking at the floor. Tears started to well up in his eyes again, and he inhaled sharply, rubbing his palms together to try to calm his hyperactive nervous system. 

“You’re not in trouble, Todd.” The relief Todd felt at that simple statement allowed him to muster the courage to nod, drawing his lips into a thin line. Mr. Keating sighed, looking at Todd as he shrunk in on himself and locked his gaze on his feet.

“Love, Mr. Anderson, is a good thing.” Mr. Keating’s voice took on a tender quality, like he was talking to a kicked dog. “No matter what it looks like, it is a good, beautiful, rare thing to be in love.” Time seemed to screech to a halt. Mr. Keating’s words echoed through Todd’s head, hammering against the inside of his skull. 

In love. 

Todd was in love with Neil Perry.

That was the elusive phrase he’d been looking for since he’d had that dream nearly a month ago. The thought that he had confined to the corners of his mind, that finally had the space to breathe and stretch. This wasn’t something so light and delicate as a crush, nor was it as simple as teenage lust. No, Todd wasn’t nearly that lucky. 

In love.

The electricity in the air when Neil was close, the shivers through Todd’s spine, the flushing of his cheeks. It all finally had a name. 

“I don’t- I’m not-” Todd tried to string together some sentence to convince Mr. Keating that, whatever Todd may have been, he wasn’t in love . But he was. He was in love with Neil Perry. And he was also extremely nauseous. And sweaty. 

“Alright, then,” Mr. Keating appeased, smiling softly. The two of them sat in silence for a moment. Todd nervously sipped his tea to give himself a reason not to make eye contact. The tea suddenly tasted much more bitter than it had before, nearly as astringent as the bile that seemed to be swirling in Todd’s stomach.

“Don’t tell anyone,” Todd muttered before he could resist the impulse. It was absurd, ordering a teacher around like that. Todd was not in a position to be asking for favors from anyone at the moment. Still, he looked up, meeting Mr. Keating’s eyes with a sense of aching urgency. “Please.” Mr. Keating’s face relaxed into something like sympathy, but to Todd, it looked more like pity. Todd’s cheeks somehow managed to turn a shade redder. 

“Of course not,” Mr. Keating reassured. “And, Todd, I am truly so sorry to say this, but do be cautious about who you choose to share this with.” Mr. Keating’s face became even more steeped in pity, putting his hands together like he was trying to get a complicated point across to a child. Todd felt his breath quickening. He nodded quickly, hoping that would constitute an adequate response. 

“I wish that I could tell you there was no danger in loving a-”

“Stop,” Todd interrupted breathily, his heart pounding erratically. Even though Keating hadn’t finished his sentence, Todd could hear it reverberating in his head like a death knell.

A boy, a boy, a boy, a boy, a boy. Loving a boy….

Todd was going to throw up.

Before Mr. Keating could try to calm him down again, Todd stood up, clasping his palm over his mouth, and darted out of the room. He could faintly hear Mr. Keating calling after him, but he didn’t look back as he took off running down the hallway, terrified that any moment he’d vomit all over himself. He had to get out of here, get away, get somewhere, anywhere- 

Todd threw open the door to the grounds, stumbling only a few steps further before falling to the ground and emptying the contents of his stomach onto the snow below him. His hands were in the snow, something that he only became aware of because of the stinging cold flooding his senses. Todd’s body heaved again, but nothing more came out. Tears were rolling down his face, and he started to notice the sound of his gasping breath, suddenly painfully aware that he couldn’t breathe. 

He was in love with Neil. In love with a boy.

What the hell was he supposed to do now?

First, remember how to breathe , he told himself, dropping his head into the snow next to his partially digested lunch , his chest burning from his short, rapid breaths. Todd’s ears were ringing, and he squinted his eyes to try to block out at least one of his senses. Breathe, idiot, he reprimanded himself, sobs pushing their way out of his constricted throat. He sat up and rubbed at his neck, wheezing through his panic, and the cold of his hands helped ground him in reality for a moment. His gasping breath began to even out, and Todd coughed as his airways reopened and his lungs expanded properly again. At least he wasn’t going to be the first person to die from embarrassment after all. 

Although he couldn’t stop the shaking sobs from bursting from his mouth, he suddenly became aware of his surroundings, aware that he was out in the open, in the middle of the school’s common grounds. Anyone could have appeared at any moment. Like a wounded animal, Todd decided he had to find a safe place to curl up and tend to his injuries. He shakily got to his feet, the edges of his vision dark with panic and nausea, and stumbled forward without any particular destination in mind aside from away . He became distantly aware that this was pathetic, that he was wildly overreacting, but he couldn’t think coherently as he practically fell to the ground up against a wall in a more isolated area of the campus.

All the years of ignoring and suppressing the parts of himself that Todd simply couldn’t come to terms with seemed to be wrapping themselves around him like a straight-jacket, confining him in their company and not letting him hide away. Years of memories, puzzle pieces that made up the grotesque, raw, visceral truth that was now staring Todd in the face, flooded his mind. But out of all those memories, this…

This was different than any of that had ever been. So, so different. This was undeniable, inescapable, burning, aching, bleeding. And it wasn’t only that, he was wishing for Neil to suffer the same fate. All for his own selfish desires. He’d been taking up so much of Neil’s time, and his life, and his energy, and Todd was just so unworthy of it-

Another sob burst from his mouth, which he tried in vain to muffle. He was relieved that Mr. Keating hadn’t followed him out here. He didn’t know what he’d do if he had to explain himself to the man, who seemed to think that everything was fine, that this was somehow fine -

“Todd?” 

God, just twist the fucking knife.

Todd wasn’t sure how long he’d spent alone there, choking on his own sobs, before Neil Perry had appeared before him. Neil always managed to find Todd when he was at his most vulnerable, so it was only fitting that he was the one sitting beside him now. The one that had subjected Todd to this torment in the first place was now the one resting a hand on his back, uncertainly running his open palm up and down in an attempt to soothe Todd’s cries. Todd stuffed his face into his hands, wishing more than anything that the earth beneath him would just swallow him up. 

“Todd, what’s going on?” Neil asked, his voice a forceful whisper as his hands clamored for somewhere to latch onto Todd’s shaking body. Todd wanted to pull away from the contact. Instead, he focused on tensing every one of his muscles to avoid melting into Neil’s touch. To Todd’s dismay, however, within moments, Neil was gripping Todd’s hand, and he couldn’t resist the urge to squeeze back, looking for anything to tether himself to reality. 

“Neil-” Todd choked out his roommate’s name, his voice sounding so threadbare and pathetic that he shut his mouth tightly and resolved not to speak. He couldn’t look at Neil, couldn’t even acknowledge the feeling of Neil’s hands on him, because Todd didn’t know if he’d ever stop crying if he did. 

“Hey- Hey, it’s ok,” Neil was holding onto Todd’s hand like he was going to vanish. “Todd, talk to me.” Todd remained resolute in his commitment not to speak, instead shaking his head back and forth, probably too aggressively to look normal. Neil seemed to accept his refusal, thankfully, and settled into a more comfortable position beside Todd. Todd couldn’t open his eyes. It was consuming all of his energy to just keep breathing with pure panic pulsing through his veins. 

“Should I get someone? Or- do you- should I leave you alone? I want to help-” Todd cut Neil off, lifting up his head and shushing him pitifully. Neil seemed to get the memo, however, and gave up on talking. Todd just needed quiet, just needed a moment to listen to the world around him until his brain stopped being so deafeningly loud. 

Todd wasn’t sure how long the two of them sat like that, hands interlocked, leaning up against the stone wall of Welton. If Neil was embarrassed being seen like this, however, he didn’t show it. He never pulled away, sitting silently beside Todd like this was a completely normal thing for the two of them. Todd tried not to focus on Neil, even though all of his senses demanded him to, and tried to listen. When he really focused on it, he could hear the sounds of shoes crunching snow in the distance, and the faint pitches of chatter coming from the main doors and spilling around the stone wall. 

The sound of Neil’s breathing demanded most of Todd’s attention, though. Since Todd first met him, everything about Neil seemed to stand out from everything around him, like Neil was the actor and everything else was just set dressing. Like the whole world started and ended with Neil, and nothing else could exist if Neil didn’t.

What could Todd possibly call that feeling if not love?

“Is it about your parents? Calling them about your grades, I mean?” Neil softly urged. Todd felt a wave of guilt wash over him for his little white lie. Though, compared to everything else he was lying about, it seemed nearly irrelevant.

“No…” Todd replied thoughtlessly. As soon as he’d said it, he realized he would’ve been better off using that excuse. Todd realized he was still gripping onto Neil’s hand and jerked his own away, probably more forcefully than he should have. Todd shouldn’t have been allowing himself to touch Neil at all. Soon enough, Neil would be contaminated with Todd’s bleeding, festering wound of wanting. Todd curled in on himself, trying to create space between himself and Neil. Neil furrowed his brow and pouted his lips just slightly, and Todd couldn’t help but notice for the millionth time how beautiful he was. Todd squeezed his eyes shut so he’d stop noticing.

“Todd, will you please tell me what’s going on? I just want to help you.” Neil’s voice was firm, but it still had its usual quirk of boyishness that Todd loved. 

“It’s fine. It’s fine, I’m fine-” Todd’s breath was still coming quickly, no matter how much he was silently screaming at himself to get a grip. He just wanted quiet, just wanted to disappear somewhere far away from Welton and Neil and go somewhere where he could be an unstirred cesspool in peace.

“Something’s been bothering you for a while now, and I don’t understand why you won’t just tell me!” Neil pressed on, not picking up on Todd’s increasing anxiety, even as he started to squeeze his head between his hands. He just needed everything to stop-

“I just- I just can’t, Neil, okay?” Stop.

“Why?” Stop.

“Neil, please-” Stop.

“Why won’t you let me help? Is it about your family? School? Shit, Todd, don’t tell me it’s about a girl- ” 

“Neil, it’s you!” 

Todd lamented his habit of blurting things out when he was under pressure. For a half-second, Todd was grateful to hear silence, that the pressure building in his skull had been relieved. But the reality of what he’d just admitted set in quickly. Todd decided he might never allow himself to speak again after today. He’d be better off that way.

“What do you mean, it’s me?” Neil asked, his brow furrowed and his face soaked in sympathy and curiosity and without an iota of judgment. Todd hated how much he loved him.

“I-” Todd wasn’t sure how to explain away this one. He couldn’t tell the truth, but he didn’t want to lie again, and he couldn’t possibly just brush it off. Neil would never let it go. God , this was shaping up to be one of the most excruciating days of Todd’s life. He could feel his pulse quickening again, drumming in his ears. “I can’t-”

“Did I do something? Is that why you said you were calling your folks? Were you just trying to get away? Todd, whatever I did, I’m really sorry-” Neil spoke rapidly, gesturing animatedly as Todd shrunk away from him. Todd drew in a quick breath through his nose and closed his eyes, fixing his face in a grimace.

“N-no, that’s not-” He started, sweat clinging to his skin in an instant.

“Whatever it is, I’ll make it up to you, Todd, just tell me what-” 

“Neil, that’s not what I’m s-saying-” Todd ran his hands through his hair and gripped it between his fingers, pressing firmly against his head. 

“Well, what are you saying, Todd? Won’t you just tell me what’s making you so upset?” Neil insistently pushed on, turning his whole body to face Todd and trying to meet his eye, which Todd was committed to preventing.

“I c-can’t.” Todd could nearly hear the blood rushing through his body. Part of him worried it would somehow start seeping through his skin or gushing from his mouth. The mere image made Todd purse his lips in disgust, and he shook his head hard to try to clear his mind.

“You can’t tell me?” Neil managed to briefly catch Todd’s eye, and Todd jerked his head to face the other direction. Neil’s deep brown eyes on him were not helping the situation. Todd felt his peripheral vision darkening, quivers traveling through his arms and escaping through his rapidly shaking fingers.

“Neil-” 

“Todd, don’t you trust me?” Neil reached both arms towards Todd, resting his hands on Todd’s shoulders and gripping them firmly. Todd felt all his muscles tense as Neil positioned Todd’s torso to force him to meet his eye.

“Th-that’s not the problem-” Todd whispered, his whole body freezing up from the pressure of Neil’s hands on him. Finally, Neil didn’t respond right away, and Todd finally managed to draw in a full breath. Neil exhaled briskly and shook his head. His face was lined with genuine pain and confusion, the sight only making Todd feel more guilty and ashamed of himself. 

“Then what’s the problem, Todd? What can I do?” Neil loosened his grip on Todd’s shoulders, sliding his hands down to the sides of Todd’s arms. His touch went from something insistent to something entirely different, his thumbs running up and down Todd’s biceps with inexplicable tenderness. Todd could feel the words he was fighting to keep inside of him struggling to get out, practically pushing against his closed lips. Neil made Todd forget himself, and he began to form the mortifying sentence in his mind. The problem is that I’m in love with you. In love with you. IN LOVE WITH YOU.  

But then he saw it, as clearly as though it were really happening right in front of him. Neil’s face, soft and affectionate, fixing into a sour expression. His hands ripping away from Todd’s arms, backing away like he’d touched a hot stove. Shocked whispers of the words Todd had been too afraid to say gradually increasing in volume until Neil was shouting them, and other students rushed outdoors to see what the commotion was about. Neil, hating him, cursing him, spitting on him, and leaving him there in the snow.

And that was too much for Todd. Too much entirely. 

He yanked his arms free from Neil’s grasp, falling backwards onto the snow and scrambling to put more distance between himself and Neil. 

“Don’t touch me!” The words came out of his mouth before he could coat their pathetic vulnerability in something more intimidating. Todd’s breath caught in his chest and he repeated himself, fixing his face into anger to cover up the terror that was seeping into his expression. “Don’t touch me.”

“Todd…?” Neil’s hands were still outstretched, his jaw slack from surprise. Todd felt a pang in his heart seeing the sadness in Neil’s face. But he couldn’t do this anymore, not right now, not without the words spilling out of him. I’m in love with you, in love with you, with you, with you, you, you-

“I- I’m serious! Get away from me!” Todd’s voice came out shrill and decidedly unintimidating, but he saw Neil shrink away slightly nonetheless.

“Why are you…” Neil’s eyes had returned to that sad puppy dog look Todd had seen very few times before, his mouth still hanging slightly open in disbelief. But Todd didn’t care, he didn’t care, he had to get him away, away, away -

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” Todd managed to turn his voice into something more brutal and pointed than he’d ever heard escape his own mouth. Every ounce of hatred he felt toward himself, every drop of frustration and pain he’d felt at the impact Neil had on him, an impact which Neil was somehow oblivious to, Todd poured into his voice. “You’re always- always here, and it’s making everything s-so much worse! Whatever it is you’re tr-trying to do, I don’t want it.” The bitter taste of what Todd implied with those last few words lingered in his mouth. Neil wasn’t the one with duplicitous intentions, but Todd was hardly seeing Neil at the moment. He only saw the personification of the shame he’d been carrying with him for weeks.

“That’s not fair, I-” Neil started, his voice cracking with emotion and nearly making Todd’s chest cave in from how much it hurt. Todd could feel a sob catching in his throat, but he forced it down and shut his eyes. Behind his eyelids, all he could see was Neil standing over him, calling him a degenerate and a pervert and a monster and-

“Stop t-talking to me!” Todd pulled at his hair again and opened his eyes in a start, replacing the sight of Neil screaming in his face with the equally painful sight of Neil, crouched in the snow, his hands still slightly raised like he was trying to pull Todd back to him. 

“Why are you-” 

“Leave, Neil!” Todd had to do this. He had to. 

“I-”

“J-just go!” Todd yelled, the words coming out more brokenly than he’d intended. And Neil, endlessly stubborn Neil, obeyed him. He stood up to leave, casting Todd another sad, hollow look that Todd deliberately ignored. He was hurting Neil, he knew that, but he could live with that if it meant keeping his secret safe. Neil couldn’t know. It wasn’t fair to him. If he knew what Todd was crying about, he would’ve left on his own accord. This way, Neil stayed safe from Todd’s sickness, and Todd didn’t have to confess any of it. It had to be done. It was the only way to save himself.

The worst part, though, the part that made Todd heart freeze in his chest, was that Neil wouldn’t, Neil would never curse him, would never yell at him, would never, never, never. The worst part was that, as afraid as Todd was of rejection and condemnation, he was just as afraid of the opposite. If Neil didn’t turn up his nose and run away, or if, somehow, Neil’s affectionate touches and looks that lasted just a moment too long hadn’t been unintentional… what then? Somehow, that suffocating unknown seemed just as terrifying as the predictable possibility of facing shame and hatred. But the thought of it was ridiculous, a symptom of Todd’s rotten, love-sick mind. Neil would never , never feel that way about him. Never. 

This was a choice that had to be made, a choice between keeping Neil close, allowing himself to want, spending every moment wanting, wanting and resisting, or pushing Neil away. A choice between allowing one slip, or one drowsy evening, drunk on laughter or on Neil’s seemingly endless supply of smuggled liquor, one moment of impaired judgment to change Todd’s entire life, or returning to the simple, quiet life he’d known before he met Neil. And with those stakes filling Todd’s mind, the choice was obvious. Turn his back on Neil and everything Neil had brought into Todd’s life. Discard the one person who made Todd feel truly awake and lull himself back to the familiar uneventful, dreamless sleep that he’d known for the past 17 years.

Still, as Todd watched Neil walk away, his head hung low, casting glances back every few steps, Todd couldn’t stop the tears from silently rolling down his cheeks.

Chapter Text

The year was 1959. December 6th. Sunday. The ground outside was wet with half-melted, muddy snow, and the grey sky was doing nothing to enhance the dreary sight of the Welton campus. It was 7:49 a.m. Todd Anderson had been awake for an hour now. Neil Perry was just starting to stir, his snoring ceasing as he rolled over to face away from the light pouring through the window.

Todd Anderson was 17 years old. 

Neil Perry was alive. 

Todd hadn’t spoken to Neil since Friday.

And Todd Anderson, sitting in the pew of the small church on Welton campus, had never felt more guilty in his life. 

The wood stain used on the pew was peeling, and Todd idly picked at it while he waited, hoping the microscopic splinters he could feel burrowing into his fingertips would somehow replace the ghostly feeling of Neil’s fingers interlocked with his own. Splinters and cracked skin, Todd rationalized as he rubbed his dry hands against the wood, stung much less. 

It was 7:49 a.m. Church service started at 8:00.

Church was not a mandatory activity at Welton. Attendance was usually left to the discretion of each student’s parents. And Todd’s parents, being devoutly Catholic, had expressed indifference about whether Todd attended the Presbyterian church services offered on campus. They had, however, reminded him that he ought to pray before dinner, before going to sleep, and for guidance whenever he got “scattered,” as his mother put it. Todd hadn’t followed these demands. He would’ve felt ridiculous, even if he were the most pious person on Earth, praying before eating his Hellton mashed potatoes and colorless vegetables in front of all of his friends. 

When Todd thought about it, both at the time and years later, he was fairly sure he had never really believed in God. He’d never believed in any of the strange holiday figures his parents had described to him as a child, after all. He had always been fairly cynical. Todd didn’t tend to believe in things he couldn’t see.

Lately, though, Todd had been sneaking into the church more and more frequently. For the same reason he’d been taking hotter showers and washing his hands again and again until his knuckles cracked. Todd wanted to feel clean. Pure. But scalding water and antibacterial soap were not enough to strip him of the filth that seemed to be coating him. So Todd had turned to this run-down church, and a God he didn’t fully believe in, to purify him. 

There were plenty of reasons why Todd was in that pew, waiting, worrying, and plenty of reasons that he shouldn’t have been there. Still, there he was, repeating the same phrase in his head he’d been reciting since he’d slipped through the doors. Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned… The issue was, Todd wasn’t sure what came next. He couldn’t seem to put his guilt into words. It seemed too complex, too indigestible, to be explained. Though Todd knew his most grievous sin was all of his wanting, craving, for something he could never have, he felt just as guilty about something much simpler. He had hurt Neil. He had driven Neil away. He had yelled at him and insulted him, then he had gone back to their dorm room and bitterly ignored him. 

No matter what Todd told himself, hurting Neil seemed so much worse than disappointing any possible god. Of course, he knew that voicing that thought would be akin to blasphemy. Something inside of him seemed to shrivel merely from thinking something so sacrilegious, years of Sunday school lessons ringing in his ears. But underneath all the baggage and all the guilt, the truth was quite simple. If Todd had to choose between God’s love and Neil’s, the decision was easy. 

Now, though, Todd felt just as far from Neil as he did from God. He had been so terrified of Neil hating him, of seeing the reality of what Todd was hiding beneath the layers of performance, that he had given Neil a much simpler reason to do just that. 

Neil was gone either way. Todd would have to find a way to get through each day without him either way. But Todd had chosen the option where he got to run away, where he didn’t have to be bold or expose any of the repulsive truths he’d vowed to keep hidden. Even coming to this chapel, Todd knew, was another act of childish avoidance. Todd wasn’t truly there to repent or turn to Jesus, he was just running away from the problem again, just like he had with Neil, just like he had with Keating. Todd, down to his core, was a coward. He had been sure of that since the moment he watched Neil walk back into the school with his head hung low, while Todd sat in the mud with trembling hands and tears streaking his face.

Since the first night after Todd’s outburst, things had been… quiet. That evening, he’d loitered around the school for hours. He spent far too long in the showers, something that he would’ve been chastised for at home, all in the hopes of avoiding his dorm room until Neil was asleep. Of course, that had been an unrealistic hope. Neil could never sleep when he was preoccupied, and, really, Todd hadn’t been surprised to see him sitting upright on his bed when he entered the dorm room at nearly midnight. 

Neil had looked away when the door creaked open, though Todd wasn’t sure whether it was out of respect for Todd’s wishes or out of bitterness, pretending to be engrossed in the blank wall beside his bed. But as soon as Todd had looked away from where Neil sat, he could feel his eyes on him. Todd had wordlessly crawled into bed, scooched as close to the wall as he could manage and squeezed his eyes shut. 

The next morning had been just as silent. Todd had woken up from the same damned dream, but instead of being greeted by Neil smiling in his face, as he had the previous time he’d dreamt of him, the room was completely empty. Neil had even made his bed, something that he generally didn’t take the time to do in the mornings. Todd’s guilt was amplified tenfold at the knowledge that Neil had probably woken up early just to avoid seeing him. 

Classes that day had been similarly uncomfortable. Todd winced at the memory of Neil trying to catch his eye, and himself refusing to look Neil’s way. At lunch, Todd had sat with the poets, but chose to sit near Pitts instead of taking his usual seat beside Neil. Todd wasn’t sure if Pitts had noticed, but Charlie did, raising his eyebrows conspicuously at the empty space beside Neil before claiming it himself. The rest of the day had been much the same, including Mr. Keating’s class, where Todd had spent the entire time staring at his desk to avoid meeting the man’s gaze, humiliated after their most recent interaction. Thankfully, If Mr. Keating had noticed Todd’s despondency, he didn’t make it known. 

Another awkward night, another silent morning. This had been going on for longer than Todd had anticipated. But he wasn’t going to be the one to fracture this manufactured distance. He couldn’t. Todd had been repeating to himself again and again that he was doing this to protect Neil. He’d been telling himself a story of guilt by association, where Neil would be shamed the same way Todd would, purely because of his closeness. Todd had been trying awfully hard to make himself a martyr. But, of course, that wasn’t true. Todd was trying to protect himself. Nothing bad would happen to Neil if he found out Todd’s secret. He would go to Nolan, request a different roommate, and have a horror story to tell his friends, none of whom would notice Todd’s absence after a week or two.

He wasn’t protecting Neil. Todd wasn’t sure what exactly he was doing. Which brought him back to his original problem. He didn’t know what to plead forgiveness for. 

A clock chimed loudly, eight gongs signaling that the church service was bound to start any moment now. Todd flinched at the sound and sucked in a quick breath, before exhaling slowly to calm himself down. Todd’s shoulders were tense, nearly up against his ears. He shifted in the uncomfortably firm pew, trying to relax. Still, his eyes darted around the room uneasily, scanning for any familiar faces. Todd didn’t want to see anyone here. It would only further his humiliation. Out of Todd’s friends, only Cameron was likely to be here. The rest of the poets had all reached an agreement at a recent meeting that skipping church would be their next act of rebellion and day-seizing. Charlie had been the one to propose the idea, even though he himself had no personal stakes in this situation. Charlie’s parents weren’t particularly religious, and to the extent that they were, they’d never really expected the same from Charlie. 

Cameron, though, was not the type to break any rules, much less heavenly commandments. So Todd was keeping an eye out for him, prepared to duck his head and sneak away unnoticed if he spotted his red flat-top. So far, though, there had been no sign of him. Todd put his hands in his lap while the pastor emerged from a door in the back of the small, wooden chapel. The man had a ring of hair around the sides of his head, and the top of his scalp shone like a polished plate. His name was Hank Cunningham, and Pastor Cunningham was certainly no poet. But Todd wasn’t there for poetry. Pastor Cunningham’s soulless sermons would have to do.

“Good morning boys,” Cunningham began. “Today, I want to speak to you all about one of the most important virtues that each of us can practice every day. The virtue of temperance.” Temperance. Todd had heard all about that one. A cardinal virtue, one of four that Todd’s catholic parents loved to repeat. Self-restraint. Resistance. Repressing your instincts and desires. Todd was very familiar with temperance. “According to Thomas 141:2, this virtue is one of the most important. To have temperance means to possess restraint over your heart, body, and mind. Moderation, abstinence, self-control, modesty. These values are what prevent us from descending into hedonism, concupiscence, and gluttony,” he continued. Todd picked at his nail beds to avoid meeting Cunningham’s eyes as he scanned the crowd. 

“You, young men,” the pastor continued, his voice taking on an accusatory edge, “are more likely to forget this virtue than most. Many of you will fall victim to fleeting desires. But, remember, boys, that these desires, and any satisfaction they might bring, do not hold a candle to the love of God.” Cunningham placed his hands on the pulpit and leaned forward toward the mostly-empty pews. Todd squirmed in his seat while he tore a piece of skin from his cuticle. “If you don’t follow the cause of Christ, you may be tempted by these desires of the flesh. I myself have fallen victim to such things. When I was a young man, I lived a life seeking only pleasure. I rarely thought of the higher cause. Young women would attempt to seduce me and I did not have the strength to resist them. But, through the love of Christ, I renounced those sinful desires, and turned to Him with newfound enlightenment. The sin of lust, the sin of gluttony, the sin of wrath, all of them can be prevented through temperance.” 

That was what Todd was doing now, he supposed. He was resisting the impulse, the roaring in his ears that was demanding him to find Neil, take him by the shoulders, and beg for his forgiveness. To apologize until his throat burned. But he was resisting. He was suffering the agony of resisting, and still, Todd knew there was nothing holy about it. Todd thought of what his parents always told him as a child about the virtue of fortitude. To try to persuade him to talk to the other children, or to raise his hand in class. The virtue of fortitude. Courage. How did fortitude rank compared to temperance? Todd couldn’t remember. Either way, Todd knew that his avoidance of Neil was not an honorable display of temperance, but a pitiful lack of fortitude. 

“Imagine, gentlemen, your greatest temptation,” Cunningham proposed. Todd didn’t particularly love that idea. He rubbed his neck, trying his very hardest to control his overactive imagination. “Then imagine the bliss of resisting that temptation. The control you would have. Wouldn’t it be freeing, gentlemen, to have complete command of your instincts? To be able to face temptation and tell it ‘no?’ Discipline, one of the four pillars of this very institution, is a noble quality. True freedom can only be found through discipline.” 

Todd could picture the expression Mr. Keating would have been wearing if he were hearing that sentiment. His eyebrows would be raised slightly, displaying his clear incredulity, only detectable to those who were familiar with the man’s mannerisms. Todd’s eyes darted around the room, the thought of Mr. Keating reminding him to scan the scattered crowd for Cameron. No sign of Cameron, Todd noticed. He exhaled the tension he’d been holding. Cunningham continued with his sermon, describing an instance where he’d been offered alcohol as a teenager and declined. Todd winced at Cunningham’s pitiful attempt at making the boys laugh, a cheesy pun about being on “cloud wine,” and turned his head when a familiar sound caught Todd’s attention. A hearty, good-natured chuckle, the sort offered up for the sake of preserving the speaker’s ego. Todd turned toward the noise, eyes wide with surprise.

Mr. Keating, sitting alone in a pew, a serene smile on his face and a scarf wrapped around his neck. Todd felt his heart freeze in his chest when Mr. Keating met his eye from across the room. The man’s small smile widened at the sight of Todd, and he adjusted in his seat, sitting up and placing his arms, which had been resting on his legs, to his sides. 

Todd shot to his feet, his hands in tight fists at his sides. He didn’t want to be seen here, much less by Mr. Keating, the person who was the most likely to understand why Todd had suddenly taken an interest in attending church. His ears were burning at the thought of Mr. Keating seeing right through him.

Todd’s exit from the chapel was much less surreptitious than his entrance. There was a loud thud when Todd’s hip hit into the edge of the pew, and Pastor Cunningham looked directly at him. Todd’s stomach dropped when Cunningham’s eyes met his, and the man adjusted his glasses to get a better look. Todd was running away again, and he’d been caught in the act.

Todd cleared his throat and darted through the door before anyone else could get a good look at him. While he rapidly trudged through the slush, Todd remembered a detail that brought him no comfort. Temperance was the fourth cardinal virtue. Fortitude, Todd remembered, was ranked third. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Lunch, Todd noted, was much less exciting without a group of people to sit with. His time at Balincrest proved that, but since he’d met Neil, Todd had forgotten what it felt like. Todd could only blame himself, though, for his present isolation. When he saw Neil and the rest of the poets laughing and smiling together at their lunch table, he decided to sit elsewhere for the day. It seemed too daunting to approach them, Todd decided. They could go back to the way things had been the year prior, before Todd had ever been there. It wouldn’t change things much, Todd was sure of that. What he hadn’t anticipated, though, was just how unbothered Neil seemed. Just that morning, Todd had been beating himself up under the belief that his outburst had caused Neil pain. But Neil was smiling just as wide as he always had, Charlie’s arm around his back. 

Todd chose to believe that the stabbing feeling in his chest at the sight of it was relief. If Neil truly wasn’t struggling with their separation, then temperance would be much easier. Todd would have no reason to make a fool of himself trying to earn Neil’s forgiveness if he was the only one grieving their wounded friendship. Todd would never get what it was he really wanted from Neil, anyway. Even if Neil forgave him, Todd’s recurring dreams would stay just that. Dreams of affection and reciprocation that he would never experience. Being away from Neil would be better, there was no question about it.

Still, when Todd sat down with a group of near-strangers a few tables away from Neil, he found himself to be incapable of even pretending to laugh at their mediocre jokes. He stared at his feet and pretended to ignore the sound of Neil’s voice while he attempted to recite his Latin vocabulary, his pronunciation just as charmingly inaccurate as it always had been.

That evening, when all the boys migrated to the commons for a few hours of studying before classes started up again the following morning, Todd had run out of excuses for why he had been avoiding speaking to any of his friends. 

The poets, minus Todd, were clustered around a table in the student lounge, all poring over their textbooks, occasionally raising their heads to make quippy comments and earn a bout of laughter from the others. Todd, on the other hand, was sitting on the outskirts of the group. Not quite far enough to raise questions from the boys, but far enough that he couldn’t hear exactly what they were laughing about. As undeserved as it was, Todd couldn’t help but feel vaguely disappointed that Neil seemed to have moved on from Todd’s absence in his life so quickly. It was just another painful confirmation that he hadn’t been special to Neil after all, but a necessary stitch to seal up the bloody wound of Todd’s desire. 

After hearing a particularly loud laugh that clearly came from Neil, Todd stood up in a start, emotion flooding him in an instant. He didn’t dare look around, worried that all the poets would be staring at him, and tried to casually make his way out of the room, as though something more important had crossed his mind and reminded him of a prior obligation. 

Once he’d cleared the doorway of the lounge and closed the door behind him, Todd let out a pronounced sigh, taking a few steps away from the closed door toward the building’s exit. He hoped the cold air on his skin would calm his nerves, which had been worse than ever without Neil’s steadying presence. Todd felt like half of himself without Neil. Avoiding him had somehow been just as painful as being around him. Even now, in private, Todd felt his hands trembling like leaves in the wind. 

“Anderson.” A voice stopped Todd in his tracks, firm and clearly wanting something from him. Todd tensed, terrified of where this conversation might take him.

“Charlie,” Todd replied, turning around and trying to maintain an air of collectedness. Charlie seemed to see through it immediately, his eyes squinted in what looked like intense examination. Todd took a small step back instinctively. 

“I need to talk to you,” Charlie said, crossing his arms and squaring his shoulders, like he was preparing for a fight. Todd didn’t like the look of that. 

“Ri- right here?” Todd asked, looking around the - currently fairly empty - junction between the first-floor hallways. If Charlie was about to chew him out, or tell him he was banished from the Dead Poets Society forever, Todd would’ve hoped he’d at least do it in private.

“Yes, right here,” Charlie asserted, standing so firmly that Todd felt like he was being towered over, although Todd was taller than Charlie by at least a few inches. 

“O-okay…” Todd stammered, bracing himself for the worst.

“It’s about Neil,” Charlie started. Todd furrowed his eyebrows, no longer exactly sure where this conversation was headed. 

“What about Neil?” Todd said, trying to sound aloof, but giving away how invested he was with the intense focus that settled on his face. 

“He’s moping,” Charlie said, simply. Todd raised his eyebrows, confused. Moping?

“Whaddya mean?” The words blended together as Todd frowned, considering Charlie’s confident proclamation. 

“He’s moping. Has been for the past few days. Ever since whatever happened between you two out by the west entrance.” Todd’s stomach dropped. Neil must have told Charlie about what happened. The thought of that made Todd feel slightly hurt, though he should’ve expected that telling Charlie would be one of Neil’s first responses.

“How do you kn-know ab-” Todd stammered, but Charlie cut him off confidently.

“You were right outside my window, dumbass.” His tone wasn’t mean-spirited; he sounded no different than he normally did when he teased his friends. Todd wasn’t sure whether he should feel reassured by that. Mostly, he was mortified at this new piece of information. How much had Charlie seen? Had he heard any of it? What did he know?

“Oh…” Todd breathed, immediately aware of how stupid it sounded. 

“Anyway, Neil is being excruciatingly whiny, but he keeps pussying out of talking to you because he said you said never to talk to him again or some shit, which seems pretty dramatic to be honest-” 

“Charlie,” Todd tried to interrupt, but he was completely ignored. Some passersby seemed to be slowing down to witness whatever was going on, to Todd’s horror.

“So here I am, talking to you. But you gotta understand, feelings are not my strong suit, Anderson. I told Neil he should just do what we always do, and just rough you up a little bit, and then you both throw in a few good punches and then you’re back to being buds, but he didn’t want to do that for whatever reason-”

“ Charlie, ” Todd whispered harshly, grabbing Charlie’s shoulders and looking around quickly in the hopes of indicating to him that they were being watched. Charlie raised his eyebrows, his jaw falling open like he was shocked by Todd’s impudence.

“It’s Nuwanda,” Charlie said with a bobble of his head, taken aback by the perceived disrespect. 

“Fine, Nuwanda,” Todd continued in his whispered tone, dropping his head in frustration but still gripping Charlie’s shoulders. “Can we please take this conversation somewhere else?” Charlie nodded slowly, his eyes still squinted. Todd sighed and steered Charlie by the shoulders through the nearby doors, waiting until they had closed completely before opening his mouth to continue. 

“W-what is it,” Todd removed his hands from Charlie’s shoulders, noticing his palms beginning to sweat. “ Exactly, ” he specified, “that you want me to do?” Charlie looked satisfied with this question. 

“Will you just make up with Neil? Listen, I’m sure he deserved it, but underneath all the drama, he’s a real softie. He’s really broken up about whatever happened.” Todd couldn’t help but think of the similar remark Neil had made about Charlie a few days (had it really only been a few days?) prior, and felt his heart ache again.

“He sure hasn’t s-seemed broken up about it, he’s been laughing and-” 

“Listen, Todd. I know Neil really well. I’ve known him since we were kids,” Charlie explained. Todd crossed his arms, unsure how exactly this was relevant to the situation at hand. “Even if he hadn’t been bitching and moaning to me, and trust me, he has, I’d know when something was wrong.” Todd couldn’t help but accept that explanation. Maybe Neil hadn’t been so apathetic after all. Todd felt simultaneous pangs of relief and hurt at that thought. 

“So?”

“ So, ” Charlie repeated, “I know better than anyone that he can be obnoxious sometimes. But he cares about you, and when Neil cares about someone he really cares.” Todd felt his face flush at the thought of whatever Neil must have said to Charlie to give him that impression. Still, Charlie was probably exaggerating. Neil cared about everyone. “Whatever he did, I’m sure he just did it because he doesn’t know how to show that sometimes.” Todd drew his lips into a line, trying to think of the right way to explain to Charlie that he was wrong, that he was nothing more to Neil than anyone else in the group was.

“Neil doesn’t-” Todd started, but chose not to finish that thought. “He just cares about- about everyone. If- if he wasn’t there Cameron would never catch a break-” Todd had noticed how Neil was constantly including Cameron, constantly sticking up for him and defending him from the group’s teasing. Neil did that for everyone. And, sure, maybe Neil had some deep personal fondness for Cameron, but the more realistic probability was that Neil was just good, that he was just selfless and caring, and that Todd was just another recipient of Neil’s goodness. That made Charlie laugh, loudly and heartily. He clapped Todd on the shoulder.

“Trust me, I don’t get it either, but I can guarantee that if me or Knox or Cameron ignored him for a couple of days, he wouldn’t be nearly this upset.” That couldn’t be true. Charlie was just trying to get Todd to apologize so he didn’t have to be involved anymore. That was the only possible explanation. 

“But-”

“Listen, whatever he did, or whatever he said, he’s sorry. I know that much. Just give him a break, will you?” Charlie’s tone was different this time, an earnest request coming from a place of genuine care for his friend. His best friend, who, at the end of the day, meant the world to Charlie. Todd couldn’t go as far as nodding, but his gaze softened, and he pulled his eyes away from Charlie’s, shrugging noncommittally. Charlie seemed to take this as satisfactory confirmation and hit Todd on the shoulder again, before he turned back toward the doors.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Todd exhaled slowly, trying to prepare himself. He’d been standing outside the door to his own dorm room for what must’ve been ten minutes now, and was starting to feel quite ridiculous. He was going to talk to Neil tonight. He had to. Todd had already come to the - admittedly unfortunate - conclusion that avoiding Neil Perry was impossible. It was better not to hurt him in the process by leaving him completely in the dark about why Todd had been shunning him. Todd would be careful. He would control his thoughts, he wouldn’t allow himself all of this wanting. Temperance , he reminded himself. But Neil didn’t deserve to feel any pain on Todd’s behalf, even if it could give Todd the chance of evading eternal damnation. If loving Neil was a sin, Todd was damned regardless.

Another slow breath left Todd’s parted lips. Todd might have been overthinking this. He had entered his own dorm plenty of times since his fight with Neil, but only when he had been fairly certain the room was empty. It would’ve felt wrong to just barge in. Todd briefly considered trying to find someplace to sleep in the hallway or going to the cave where he would inevitably develop hypothermia, but Todd knew he had to resist his instinct to run away if he was ever going to fix what he had broken. Todd finally mustered up the courage to knock on the door. Softly, at first, but then more firmly when no one stirred on the other side. 

“Charlie?” Neil’s voice was muffled by the thick wooden door that separated the two of them, and Todd couldn’t help but ache for the separation to be removed sooner, faster. He wouldn’t open the door himself, though. It felt too intrusive, especially after everything he’d done. If Neil wanted to talk, it could be on his terms. Todd opened his mouth to warn Neil that he was not in fact Charlie Dalton, but by the time he had, the door had begun to creak open, revealing Neil standing on the other side. He was wearing his pajamas, silhouetted by the light pouring from the dorm room into the dark hallway. 

“It’s me,” Todd breathed, looking into Neil’s eyes like a frightened prey animal caught off guard. Neil looked startled, too, and took a step backward into the room. 

“Um-” Neil dropped the doorknob and brought his hands together, tugging on his thumb with his other hand uneasily.

“C-can I come in?” Todd asked, indicating with a tilt of his head that Neil was blocking the door. Neil stepped out of the doorway, nodding slightly, still not looking away from Todd.

“Um. Yeah. I mean, it’s your room, too…” Neil finally broke the nearly-painful eye contact, walking over to sit on his bed. 

“Thanks,” Todd replied breathily, though he knew it wasn’t exactly warranted. Todd slowly made his way through the doorway, and took off his slippers, which he had brought with him to the bathroom. He walked over to his bed and sat down, facing Neil, who was making an effort not to look Todd’s way, sitting with his arms crossed and looking straight ahead. The silence hung unbroken between them. Todd had decided to make amends, he reminded himself. It was his responsibility to start the conversation. 

“I-” He took in a sharp breath, briefly shutting his eyes to concentrate on his words. “I want to talk to you, Neil. Can we talk?” Todd hoped that was an adequate way to start the conversation. 

“So now you want to talk?” Neil muttered to himself dryly. Todd felt a pang of cold shoot through him and crossed his arms tightly, like it would prevent him from standing up and darting from the room. 

“I w-wanted to tell you that I’m…” Todd shifted how he was sitting, leaning forward in the hopes that being a few inches closer would force Neil to listen to him. “I’m sorry.” 

Neil’s face shifted. That had caught his attention. He turned to face Todd, and his surprise morphed into confusion.

“You’re…?” Neil trailed off. 

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry,” Todd repeated, relieved that, in this crucial moment, he’d managed to get through the sentence without stuttering. Neil was staring at him, his thick eyebrows furrowed in an emotion Todd couldn’t quite place, but Todd made a conscious effort not to wither under Neil’s gaze. He wasn’t going to cower away from this, no matter how much he wanted to.

“Why did you…” Neil started, before shaking his head slightly, seemingly waiting for Todd to cut him off. Todd obliged, leaning forward slightly further.

“I- I don’t know, Neil. I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said the things I did. I didn’t… I didn’t mean any of it.” Todd fell back into his nervous stammering, looking down at his hands, which were moving quickly to try to emphasize his point.

“It sure sounded like you meant it,” Neil replied quietly, with an edge of what might have been pain in his voice. Todd inhaled quickly again before he could let too much guilt take root and stifle his ability to speak.

“I didn’t. I- I really didn’t,” Todd tried to explain. It turned out that it was very difficult to apologize for doing something while being unwilling to divulge any of the details. Todd would have to settle for pleading. “I promise I didn’t,” he tried, when Neil’s expression didn’t change at all. 

“So, what, you just wanted to hurt me then?” Neil asked, his brow still creased, before turning away and scoffing joylessly. 

“No, Neil, of course not,” Todd answered rapidly and looked down again, putting one hand to his temple. Everything in him ached. He hadn’t done it to hurt Neil, but the reality was that he had known it could hurt Neil and did it anyway. Todd massaged his temple and tried to ignore how sick that thought made him feel.

“I just don’t understand-” Neil began. 

“I… please just trust me.” This time Todd cut Neil off without giving it much thought at all. Todd wished he had something better to offer than empty platitudes. 

“Trust you? Why should I do that? You don’t trust me.” Neil’s voice was rising in volume, his hands pushing firmly against the edge of the mattress where he sat and creating divots on either side of him. Todd brought his other hand to his head as he remembered Neil asking Todd if he trusted him, and Todd’s avoidance of the question. 

“I do, Neil. I do trust you. I… I don’t know how to explain it.” Todd pressed his hands against his skull while he spoke, the words coming out quick and unpolished. 

“Try!” Neil insisted, jumping to his feet and reaching forward. 

“I am trying , I just can’t-” Todd defended, running a hand through his hair. He cut himself off as Neil threw his arms up in frustration and turned away from Todd. 

“Damn it,” Neil exclaimed, scrubbing his face with his palm and walking to the corner of the room, facing the wall. He crossed his arms and exhaled curtly. Todd watched Neil fuming in the corner, and it struck him that this may have been a lost cause. Todd had caused too much damage to repair. Neil wouldn’t be able to forgive him. Todd felt his eyes burning and he blinked quickly, a shaky exhale escaping his lips. Neil didn’t want to listen to Todd’s pitiful attempt at an apology anymore, Todd was quite sure of that. Maybe it was best to drop the subject for the night. 

Todd leaned against the backboard of his bed, turning his body away from Neil. He picked up his pillow and held it against his chest, trying to focus on his breathing so the whirling anxiety building inside of him wouldn’t erupt. Neil exhaled loudly and turned back toward Todd, looking him up and down. 

“What, so that’s it?” Neil asked, anger giving way to disappointment. Todd’s eyes flitted from place to place, gripping the pillow tighter though he knew it made him look like a child. 

“Neil, you don’t get it,” Todd whispered, wishing he could just explain what it was that Neil didn’t get, wishing he could just tell him. But he couldn’t tell him. He couldn’t.

“You’re right,” Neil started, taking a step toward Todd. “I don’t. You’re so convinced that no one gives a shit about what you feel or what you think, but you’re wrong. And now you say you want to talk to me and you still won’t tell me what’s going on? I give a shit, Todd, if you haven’t noticed.” Todd’s eyes started to sting again. Neil’s words seemed to roll over him like the tumbling snow of an avalanche, heavy against his chest and trapping him in place. 

“I-” Todd’s voice cracked, and he snapped his mouth shut. Neil continued with his impassioned declaration.

“I don’t want to make things worse for you, Todd,” Neil said with a tone of finality. “That’s what you said I do. Make things worse for you. So if that’s what I’m doing, I’ll leave you alone. But whatever you meant when you said that I’m friends with you because I’m trying to get something out of you, it’s bullshit.” Todd winced at the memory while Neil took another step closer to him, the proximity only adding to Todd’s increasing anxiety. 

“I shouldn’t have s-said that,” Todd muttered shamefully. It was a step too far, saying that. Todd had known that even at the time. 

“I don’t just keep you around out of the kindness of my heart,” Neil said, catching Todd off guard. Todd hadn’t said anything to indicate that he was feeling that way, but still, Neil knew. Neil always knew.

“Neil,” Todd started, wanting to argue back, to force Neil to admit he wasn’t special. He got to his feet, his hands tensed at his sides.

“I mean it. You’re important, Todd. You’re- I don’t know- you’re different from the other guys. You’re talented, and you’re kind, and you-” Neil cut himself off with a short exhale and rubbed his palms over his closed eyes. Neil’s face slackened as he stared at Todd, evaluating his expression. “You don’t believe a word, I’m saying, do you?” 

Todd wasn’t sure what to say to that. He didn’t want to disappoint Neil with the truth, but he didn’t want to lie and say that he did accept and believe that Neil thought so highly of him. He looked down again, taking a step to put more distance between himself and Neil.

“I don’t know,” Todd settled on, his voice barely audible as he rubbed his neck harshly.

“Are you even trying to believe me?” Neil took another step to follow Todd.

“I w-want to,” Todd deflected, taking another step away. He didn’t have anywhere to go, though, in their closet-sized dorm room.

“But you don’t.” Neil crossed his arms again, planting himself in the middle of the room. Todd’s mind was racing as he tried to come up with what to say. 

“No. I guess I don’t,” Todd admitted, speaking slowly to ensure he said just the right thing. As he went on, though, he sped up, and his words became less and less deliberate. “I don’t understand what you see in me, or what Mr. Keating sees in me, or what any of the guys see, but I thought you’d all be better off if you didn’t have to deal with me anymore. I- I thought if I stayed away from you things would be better. Or easier, or something. That way you wouldn’t have to see what I really am. And I guess I don’t know if it was better or easier but I don’t really care because I don’t want to be away from you.” Todd looked Neil in the eyes, before turning away hastily, his face turning red from the overly vulnerable admission. “And our friends, I mean,” he added sheepishly, lacing his fingers together in front of himself.

The room was quiet for what felt like an eternity, the sound of the radiator whirring the only thing filling the room. 

“Todd,” Neil breathed, his voice softening.

“I know. I know, it was stupid. I’m sorry,” Todd replied, trying to keep his voice from betraying how shaken he was. Neil must have noticed Todd trying to escape his gaze, and walked back to his own bed, sitting on the edge. He breathed in and out loudly.

“You don’t get to decide for me,” Neil said, his tone neutral. Todd turned toward him, his brows tilted in confusion. “Whether I want you around, I mean.”

“I wasn’t trying to-” 

“I do. I do want you around. Okay?” Neil insisted matter-of-factly, leaning forward on the edge of his bed. 

“Okay…” Todd replied uncertainly.

“Do you want that?” Neil asked, his expression unreadable. 

More than anything. More than anything. 

“Yes.”

“Alright then,” Neil concluded, drawing his mouth into a line and nodding slightly. 

“I’m sorry,” Todd repeated, a plea to repair the mess. Silence lay over the room, thick and heavy. Neil’s shadowy form shifted on his bed, letting out a breath. He looked out the window, the light from the window illuminating his face and reminding Todd of the night they’d spent up on the roof. He wanted to go back to that so badly. He was more than prepared to grovel if that was what it took. 

“Don’t do that again, Whitman,” Neil muttered sternly. Todd felt the tension he’d been holding between his shoulders for days now relax slightly, hearing Neil call him by that nickname again. 

“I won’t. I- I promise I won’t.” Todd stood up, walking toward Neil’s bed almost subconsciously. He felt that strange feeling of his heart being magnetized toward Neil again. He searched Neil’s face for some sign that he was softening, but his face was still rigid. 

“You promise?” Neil asked, rising to his feet and crossing his arms, seemingly unwilling to relent so easily. Todd could see a glint of genuine hurt in Neil’s eyes, past the firm posturing, and, against his better instincts, took another step toward Neil.

“Yeah. I promise.” Todd felt his stomach twist in anxiety when Neil’s face still didn’t relax, but he forced himself to endure it. Neil slowly uncrossed his arms. Todd was frozen in place, silently praying that he had said enough for Neil to forgive him, and that he wouldn’t need to resort to divulging the truth in order to earn Neil’s understanding. 

“Alright,” Neil breathed, nodding to himself. Todd couldn’t help but notice something almost defensive in his voice. Neil didn’t want to be hurt again. Todd vowed to spend the rest of the year making this up to him, even if it meant having that dream every night for the rest of his life.

“Alright?” Todd repeated, tentatively. He had to resist the urge to sigh from sheer relief when Neil’s face finally relaxed into a softer expression. Neil nodded again, more quickly this time, more certain. Todd inhaled sharply as Neil’s arms encircled him tightly, quickly closing the space between them. And Todd was so fucking relieved that he couldn’t help but reciprocate the hug, hands searching for somewhere to rest on Neil’s back, ignoring the fire that ignited in his veins at their proximity, and the sound of Neil’s breath in his ear. 

“I missed you, Todd,” Neil whispered. Todd felt the hair on his neck stand up, and he instinctively released his grip on Neil’s back slightly. Hearing Neil whisper his name like that, so close, reminded Todd slightly too much of his dream. But, he’d made up his mind. He wasn’t going to hide from Neil, not if it was going to cause him any pain. So he had no choice but to ignore the swirling feeling in his stomach, like he’d just had a swig of whisky. 

“Yeah. You too, Neil.”

For the first time in days, Todd could finally breathe.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Todd stared at his notebook, the page before him littered with indecisive scratches of graphite, and slightly crumpled from when Neil had wrenched the notebook from Todd’s grasp and tossed it around the small dorm like a football. Todd smiled to himself at the memory, warmth blossoming in his chest. Todd stared at the poem he’d been working on for far too long, committed to perfecting it before he ever allowed it to leave the confines of his notebook. He wanted Neil to hear it someday, though. Once it was perfect. 

Now, though, it was far from perfect. Now, it was a disorganized mess of fleeting thoughts, which Todd had already likely assigned far too much meaning to merely by writing them down. Something about the paper staring back at Todd made him feel vulnerable and exposed, embarrassed that he’d given his thoughts enough credit to put them to paper. Todd stared at the end of the poem’s first stanza, or, rather, the mess of graphite where the end of the first stanza should have been. Todd turned the page with a sigh, copying down the first three lines carefully. As he wrote the word dreaming , his grip on his pencil tightened. 

The empty space at the end of the stanza seemed endless. Todd chewed on his lip absentmindedly, milling over potential rhymes that popped into his head, or ideas that might lead him to one. Todd hastily wrote down the word temperance in the empty space , and stared at it, like it would offer him some profound insight. He lifted his pencil again, and crossed out the word, replacing it with a much simpler one. Running . Todd drummed his pencil against his notebook for only a moment, the action reminding him of his timid, uncertain knocking on the wooden door of his dorm room mere hours prior. Todd wondered if there was something there. Knocking on doors that would open to humiliation, drumming his pencil that would give credence to his embarrassing ideas. A nervous, racing heartbeat precipitating vulnerability. That might be something. Todd rotated his pencil in his fingertips, searching for the words. He pondered for a moment longer, then wrote.

We are running from the battle when it’s one that must be fought.

Todd exhaled, satisfied, thinking of fortitude and temperance and splinters from the pew that bit at his fingers, but mostly thinking of Neil. The feeling of Neil’s arms around his back, Neil’s hushed voice in his ear, now a real memory and not merely a figment of his imagination. Todd allowed himself to turn his gaze to Neil, who was sleeping soundly on the opposite side of their shared dorm room. He was snoring softly and his face was slack and relaxed. For the first time since Friday, Todd noticed, Neil’s body was facing toward Todd’s side of the room rather than the wall. Todd felt his breath catch with an emotion he couldn’t quite pinpoint. Relief, or something like it, seemed to blossom in his chest and spread through his veins until he could nearly feel it dripping from his fingertips. He watched Neil for a moment longer, until he couldn’t come up with more justifications for doing so, and turned his gaze back to his paper. His hand hovered over the lined paper, pencil in hand, for only a moment longer before he concluded the stanza. 

And still we sleep.

Chapter Text

The year was 1959. December 14th. A Midsummer Night’s Dream opened the next day. Todd Anderson was 17 years old, pent up, and lovesick. And his lip was bleeding again. Knox was furiously writing a poem for Chris in his notebook while Charlie tried to steal looks over his shoulder. Neil was buzzing with energy, the most alive Todd had ever seen him. 

Mr. Keating’s class was about to begin. The boys had settled at their desks, many of them commiserating about the torturous math lesson Dr. Hager had taught the class period prior, before settling into the eager, relaxed energy of the English classroom. Neil, in particular, was brimming with enthusiasm, bouncing his leg and watching the door for Mr. Keating’s arrival. 

Since Todd and Neil had resolved their argument, things had more or less returned to normal. Or, at least back to the way things were before. Normal might not have been the right word, given that lately, Todd had been spending the majority of his time biting back ill-formed love confessions from pouring out of his mouth. With the play coming up so quickly, ready to sink its teeth into the young cast and expose any weaknesses, Neil had been more insistent about drilling his lines than ever. Which meant that Todd was spending more time alone with Neil than ever. He would never have complained about that, of course. Instead, he'd just silently continue to fight against the whirlpool of his own mind, too afraid to sink but unwilling to swim to safety. No amount of time spent in the whirlpool would ever be enough; Todd was certain of that fact. He'd never feel like he'd gotten enough time with Neil, even if they kept in touch for the rest of their lives.

It was that thought that was running through Todd’s mind while he wiped his lip, the red staining the back of his hand before he brushed it off against his pant leg. Knox was saying something about his poem being too boring, and that Chris would never fall for a guy who wrote such stupid poems, before Charlie took on a tone of consolation and told Knox that Chris would never fall for him even if he were the next Tennyson. Todd wasn’t paying them much mind, though. When Neil was in the room, Todd was watching Neil. It had practically become a rule by then, and it was one that Todd couldn’t have broken if he tried. In accordance with this rule, Todd knew when Mr. Keating had entered the room, not because he saw the man himself, but because he saw Neil perk up in his seat. Todd followed Neil's gaze to see that the Captain had just stepped through the doorway.

“Good afternoon, boys,” Mr. Keating began, smiling while he scanned the room, book bag in hand. The boys quieted down, as if a spell had fallen over them the moment Mr. Keating walked through the door. This spell seemed to affect all the Welton boys, not just the dead poets initiates themselves, and soon everyone was watching the man, enraptured. Mr. Keating settled behind his desk, placing his bag down and unzipping it. “As some of you may know, something very exciting will be taking place tomorrow at Henley Hall. Does anyone know what I’m referring to?” Mr. Keating smiled, raising his eyebrows and making eye contact with Neil, who beamed back at him and bounced his leg even faster. Charlie’s hand shot up, and Mr. Keating looked away from Neil, pointing to Charlie’s outstretched hand.

“Mr. Dalton?”

“Neil’s show is tomorrow night,” Charlie explained, looking around the room like he was evaluating if everyone else was sufficiently excited. 

“Correct, Mr. Dalton! And what is the title of this show?” Mr. Keating asked. Neil’s hand was the first to pop up this time, a smile still stretched across his face.

“Yes, Mr. Perry?”

“A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” He said, with a reverence in his voice that reminded Todd of church. Like just saying the title of the production was something sacred. Todd smiled and looked down at his desk, cracking his knuckles to distract himself from the warmth in his cheeks.

“Indeed it is! Now, who can tell me who wrote A Midsummer Night’s Dream?”

“Neil Perry!” Charlie called out, earning a few good-natured laughs from the boys on either side of him. Mr. Keating imitated a loud incorrect buzzer.

“Not quite, Mr. Dalton, but thank you for playing. And I’m sure Mr. Perry could write the next Midsummer if he put his mind to it,” Mr. Keating said with a wink in Neil's direction. It was always strange, Todd thought, hearing Neil referred to as Mr. Perry. It didn't fit him at all; Neil would never fit in so simple a title. Though, inevitably, time would go on chewing and digesting, and after a few more years, Neil would become the newest in a long line of Mr. Perrys. Wife, kids, stuffy doctor job. It didn't seem possible, though, that someone as vibrant as Neil would ever be wrapped up so neatly. 

“Any other guesses on who wrote the play? Mr. Keating asked. Meeks raised his hand to the level of his head, his fingers hung loosely. “Mr. Meeks?”

“William Shakespeare, sir,” Meeks answered. 

“Correct! And what have we learned about William Shakespeare?” This time, Cameron raised his hand. Mr. Keating paced the front of the room for a moment before pointing toward the redhead.

“Mr. Cameron?”

“Shakespeare was one of the most prolific playwrights of the 16th century, sir,” Cameron recited in his usual Cameron fashion. “But, if you don’t mind me asking, why are we talking about Neil’s play in class?” Mr. Keating smiled at that remark, his easy-going presence contrasting Cameron’s rigid voice.

“Thank you for asking, Mr. Cameron! That is the perfect segue to my lesson plan for the day. Now, William Shakespeare, while indeed one of the most prolific playwrights of the 16th century, also wrote many famous sonnets. Can someone here tell me what a sonnet is?”

“Poetry,” Neil breathed, not raising his hand, still with an awestruck smile across his face.

“Poetry, indeed!” Mr. Keating was the only teacher at Welton who wouldn’t reprimand someone for talking out of turn, Todd thought. “And what makes a poem a sonnet?” No one jumped in with an answer, looking around at each other in the hopes that someone had read ahead in their textbooks. Mr. Keating answered his own question once a few silent moments had passed. “A sonnet is a poem that contains fourteen lines,” Mr. Keating started, writing the word SONNETS large at the top of the chalkboard and writing under it, Fourteen Lines. “These lines have a specific rhyme scheme. The sonnets we will be studying today follow the structure ABAB, CDCD, EFEF, GG.” Mr. Keating wrote the string of letters on the board. Todd nodded to himself, looking at the board intently. “And, importantly, these poems utilize iambic pentameter. Mr. Perry, could you define iambic pentameter to the group?”

“Iambic pentameter,” Neil began, “is the rhythm of all of Shakespeare’s plays. An iamb is like a pulse. A soft syllable and a strong syllable. And pentameter means five, like a pentagon, so there’s five iambs. Ten syllables. It’s like… a heartbeat.”

“Excellent answer, Mr. Perry!” Mr. Keating nodded pridefully. “Ba-DUM, ba-DUM, ba-DUM, ba-DUM, ba-DUM,” Mr. Keating spoke rhythmically, leaning in on each stressed syllable. “Hear that, boys? That is the sound of a sonnet.”

Todd turned to look over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of Neil, who was staring at Mr. Keating, completely transfixed. Todd smiled to himself again, and turned away before Neil saw him looking.

“As for the lesson today, you all will have the chance to familiarize yourselves with Shakespearean language. Now, I know you’ve listened to me recite Shakespeare more than enough, and some of us have had plenty of opportunities to interact with the language. But most of us in this room haven’t performed Shakespeare. Felt the language in your bones.” Todd’s shoulders tensed. Performed? Todd was not feeling up to performing Shakespeare in front of his classmates today. Or ever, really. He put his hands in his lap and fixed his gaze on the corner of the room. 

“But, as much as I love the theatre, this is not a performing arts class,” Keating explained. Several sighs of relief followed. Mr. Keating’s face morphed into a sly smile. “So,” he began, “your assignment won’t be nearly as simple as reciting a Shakespearean sonnet.” Todd’s shoulders inched toward his ears. “Instead, you will be finding partners, and you will each draw a number from this hat,” Mr. Keating began, producing a comical top hat from behind his desk. A few of the boys, including Charlie and Neil, chuckled loudly. “Each of Shakespeare’s many sonnets has a number. You will find the sonnet you drew from the hat in your copies of the Pritchard, who was generous enough to include them in the back of his book, once he had run out of things to say.” A few other boys laughed at that, and Todd would have if he weren’t so nervous. “You and your partner will find your sonnets and rearrange the lines to create a two-person scene,” Mr. Keating announced proudly.

“A scene?” Charlie blurted out.

“Indeed, Mr. Dalton. As much as we can learn from studying the greats, like Shakespeare and Whitman, creating something of our own will always teach us more. You will need to look at these words in brand new ways and create a story within your limitations. Sometimes, boys, limitations are the key to excellent art.” Charlie seemed to accept this answer. Todd turned over his shoulder and watched Charlie cross his arms and sit back in his seat, a hint of a smile spreading across his face. 

“Now, stand up and find a partner,” Mr. Keating instructed, gesturing for the boys to rise like an orchestra conductor. Todd looked around nervously, hoping to catch the eye of one of his friends before he ended up paired with a stranger. The ordeal of choosing partners for group projects was a source of many minor traumas during Todd's childhood. Being chosen last was very familiar to him, but familiarity did little to take away the sting. Distracted by his anxious search for a familiar face, Todd startled backwards when Neil appeared beside him.

“Todd, you’re gonna be my partner, alright?” Neil stated this more than asked it. Todd nodded uncertainly, lowering his eyebrows in confusion. “Okay, good. You know more about poetry than the rest of us,” Neil said with a smile. Todd inhaled sharply. He hadn’t meant to cultivate the idea in his friends’ minds that he was some sort of poetry prodigy. That would only lead to more disappointment when he failed to live up to their expectations. 

Once everyone was partnered up, Mr. Keating grabbed the hat from his desk. “Perfect. I will bring this hat around, and each person will pull one sonnet from the hat.” He began to walk between the aisles of desks, offering the hat to each student. Charlie and Knox had paired up, and the two of them were now enthusiastically flipping through their textbooks to find the sonnets they had drawn. 

When Mr. Keating came around to Todd’s row, hat in hand, Neil eagerly stepped forward to meet him. Todd didn’t share his enthusiasm, feeling his palms start to sweat while Neil rummaged through the papers in the hat. Neil pulled out a slip of paper, unfolding it hastily.

“Sixty-one!” Neil announced, much quicker at reading Roman numerals than Todd was. Todd reached into the hat, pinching a slip of paper between his fingers and pulling it out. XXIII. Twenty-three, Todd determined. He turned the slip of paper toward Neil, who read it and nodded to himself energetically. Mr. Keating made his way back to the front of the classroom while Todd began flipping through the back pages of his book. Once he found the poem and began to read, Mr. Keating continued in his explanations of the assignment.

“Has everyone found their sonnet?” Mr. Keating asked, his hands on his hips. Todd looked up, scanning the room and catching a glimpse of Cameron frantically flipping through his book, his eyes darting between Mr. Keating and the pages.

“Alright,” Mr. Keating continued. “Once you and your partner have found your sonnets, grab a pair of scissors from the front of the classroom.”

“Scissors?” A boy with a rather unfortunate haircut piped up from the back of the room.

“Yes, Mr. Waterson. If we’re going to rearrange these sonnets, we can’t have them in one piece, can we?” Mr. Keating asked with a secretive edge. Todd leaned in instinctively, wanting to catch every syllable out of Keating’s mouth. Neil turned to Todd and beamed at him, raising his eyebrows with the excited look of a kid given permission to draw on the walls. Cameron, on the other hand, seemed positively horrified as he grabbed a pair of scissors and meticulously began to cut the page from the book, his face pinched up in poorly veiled disgust. 

Neil hurried to the front of the room to grab a pair of scissors, returning to the desk and - albeit less carefully than Cameron - cutting his sonnet from the book. Todd watched patiently before Neil passed the scissors to him, and Todd did the same to his own poem. Once he’d cut the page out, Neil pulled it from Todd’s hand and set the two pages side by side on the desk. Certain lines caught Todd’s eye as Neil mulled over the sonnets, humming one pitch to himself and furrowing his brow in concentration.

O, learn to read what silent love hath writ.

Is it thy spirit that thou send’st ---

Todd couldn’t see the rest from where Neil’s hand was resting. Neil pulled his glasses from his bag, and Todd smiled at the way that he slipped them onto his face without once looking away from the pages. Todd was in no rush to read the sonnets, not when the alternative was just watching Neil. Neil looked up once he finished reading the sonnets, looking at Todd with a sparkle in his eyes.

“It's a love story,” Neil said. Todd's cheeks flushed, and he looked away. Hearing Neil say the word love felt similar to how Todd imagined being in zero-gravity would feel, sudden weightlessness settling into his limbs. 

“A… a love story?” Todd asked, making a conscious effort to keep his voice from shaking. 

“Yeah! Look-” Neil gestured toward the pages before him, pointing to the lines that interested him in a new order. Todd read them, trying to keep track of the order that Neil was indicating they should be in. Neil’s version of the scene began with the line, “Is it thy spirit thou send’st from thee,” the line that had been blocked from Todd’s view before. 

“So, it’s a ghost?” Todd was unsure where Neil was going with this. 

“Right!”

Todd read ahead, scanning the lines from the poem he had drawn. Of course, Neil was right. A love story seemed to emerge on the page, the two sonnets blending together to create a surprisingly straightforward plot.

“A ghost of a- a poet,” Todd breathed, brushing his fingertips across the paper. “And- and the other character-” Todd began, scanning the poem Neil had drawn, his palms beginning to sweat as he read. Todd wished, as soon as he began to read it, that Neil had drawn any sonnet other than this one.

Is it thy will thy image should keep open my heavy eyelids to the weary night?

“The other character is… is dreaming…” 

“Or thinks he’s dreaming,” Neil added. 

“Right. Right, be-because maybe the ghost really is there and trying to give him the poems he wrote, he just doesn’t believe it,” Todd said, nodding excitedly while Neil began cutting up the poems.

“And the poet,” Neil said, rearranging the slips of paper as he spoke. “The dead poet,” he raised his eyebrows jokingly and Todd rolled his eyes, “is trying to convince him that it really is happening!” 

“Okay, okay, let’s start there,” Todd agreed, kneeling beside Neil and sorting through the scraps of paper. 

The two spent the next half hour arranging and rearranging, debating whether Todd's character, the dead poet, should get through to Neil's character, or whether the scene should end on a more mournful note. Neil, ever the optimist, insisted that his own character, who they’d conveniently dubbed sixty-one, cared too much for Todd’s character, twenty-three, to simply ignore his presence and go back to sleep. Todd, however, insisted that any sane person would assume they were merely dreaming, or hallucinating, as a residual effect of grief. The debate essentially revolved around the question of whether or not Neil’s character should end the scene with the line: It is my love that keeps mine eye awake, Mine own true love that doth my rest defeat. Todd was resolute that it was too easy, but he wasn’t nearly confident enough to insist upon it, so he had resorted to trying to persuade Neil in the right direction.

“Neil, it’s- it’s so much more… poignant if we don’t know whether sixty-one ever really gets twenty-three’s message.”

“I’m an actor, not a poet. I’m trying to maintain sixty-one’s character integrity here, Whitman. Even if he wasn’t sure that twenty-three was really there, he’d wouldn’t just brush him off like that,” Neil explained, inching the two lines toward the bottom of their meticulously arranged scene. 

“Okay…” Todd said unsurely, taking a step back to look at the scene in its entirety. Neil was wrong about the ending of the scene, Todd was quite sure of it. But it wasn’t worth putting up a fight. They’d get a good grade either way. They probably weren’t being graded on the realism and nuance of their scenes, so long as they told a logical story. 

“Okay?” Neil asked, surprised.

“I- I’m sure you’re right…” Todd said.

“No, you're not! Come on, Todd, it's just me.” Todd nearly laughed aloud at the absurdity of Neil's statement. Before he could curb his initial reaction, Todd responded.

“Just you?” he asked, eyebrows raised and eyes fixed on the floor. As soon as he said it, he felt a surge of regret and embarrassment in his stomach. 

“Just me,” Neil repeated with a sweet smile, smacking Todd on the shoulder with the back of his hand. Todd looked up, locking eyes with Neil and forgetting for a moment that he was not the type to say what he thought and that he was speaking to the person who scared him more than anything else.

“Okay, well you’re wrong. About the scene. Sixty-one says - like, two lines up - that he doesn’t believe that twenty-three loves him enough to a-appear to him, look-” Todd pointed to the line, looking at Neil to make sure he was following. “So, sixty-one wouldn’t be convinced so easily that twenty-three really did love him. It wouldn’t m-make any sense.” Neil slowly smiled at him, crossing his arms. 

“Cynic,” Neil said.

“Sorry,” Todd replied with a shrug. 

“Alright, Whitman, you win.” Neil conceded, raising his arms in surrender. He grabbed the two slips of paper and tossed them aside. Todd read the scene through one more time, before grabbing one of the two lines Neil had thrown out and placing it in the middle of the third line sixty-one said, utilizng the double entendre of my love to his advantage. It finally looked right, Todd decided. 

“Time’s up!” Mr. Keating announced. “Please put your sonnets down and listen up.” Todd took a step away from the desk, adorned with paper scraps. Neil did the same. “Now, any volunteers to be the first group to perform their piece?” Mr. Keating asked. 

Todd's stomach dropped. The idea of having to actually perform the scene had completely escaped Todd's mind while he was arranging it. And now he had royally screwed himself over. He had to perform a love scene. With Neil Perry. Todd chewed on the inside of his cheek, looking around the room anxiously. Everyone had to perform, he reminded himself. Surely, their scene wasn’t the only one about lovers. Lovers seemed to be all that Shakespeare talked about. But, still, Todd was more than horrified at the prospect of having to return to sit among his peers after having to perform something a bit too truthful, a bit too vulnerable. So, Todd decided the best course of action was to distance himself from the scene.

“Should one of us play a girl? B-because of the… love story, I mean,” Todd whispered to Neil while Charlie and Knox made their way to the front of the classroom, unsurprisingly having been the first group to volunteer. Todd looked away, clenching his hands into fists and wincing in embarrassment for going there at all.

“Oh! Uh, sure… do you want to?” Neil asked in a way that made Todd feel somehow even more embarrassed. 

“I mean- well, I don’t want to, it’s just that-” Todd defended aimlessly.

“Right. Uh. Well, I can do it then,” Neil said, crossing his arms and looking away from Todd. For the first time, Neil seemed as uncomfortable as Todd did. Todd felt the distinct feeling that he was going to puke. 

“Okay…” Todd replied, inhaling deeply to avoid literally spilling his guts all over Neil’s shoes.

“Well, you know, Shakespeare was, uh…” Neil started after a moment of silence. He shook his head. “Never mind. I’ll be the girl,” Neil said, his face returning to his usual smile. Todd grimaced back at him before looking back down at his sweaty hands. 

Charlie and Knox had taken center stage, each of them holding a piece of paper where they’d copied down the words to their scene. Todd startled into action at that, and began doing what should have been an obvious step, copying down the words of their sonnet onto two sheets of paper. Neil took a seat to watch the performance, eyebrows raised expectantly. Charlie looked Neil’s way and shot him a joking look, making Neil beam. Todd watched them smiling at each other, envying the simplicity of their relationship, before returning to the task at hand.

Charlie began to recite, his voice confident but unserious.

“Thou dost love her because thou know’st I love her!” he said, pointing a finger at Knox accusatorily. Still, his light expression and sarcastic air revealed that Charlie didn’t quite possess Neil’s acting chops.

“O, call me not to justify the wrong. Her pretty looks have been mine enemies!” Knox replied, sincerity and sadness dripping from his voice. Todd saw Neil roll his eyes with a smile in his periphery, well aware what “pretty looks” Knox was picturing.

“And for my sake even so doth she abuse me, and yet it may be said I loved her dearly,” Charlie read out passionately, placing his hands on his heart while Knox turned away scornfully. Todd stifled a laugh at the clash of Knox’s failed seriousness and Charlie’s deliberate irony. Their scene went on like that, the two of them feuding over who had it worse and melodramatically making fools of themselves, before Charlie mimed having a realization, pointing his finger up and opening his mouth.

“That thou hast her, it is not all my grief. But here’s the joy; my friend and I are one,” Charlie announced with a smirk, throwing his arm around Knox, who put his hand to his heart dutifully. “Sweet flattery! She then loves but me alone!” Neil broke into applause, rising to his feet and hollering much too loudly for a classroom. Pitts and Meeks joined in, their overexaggerated cheering prompting Cameron to roll his eyes. Still, even Cameron had a hint of a smile on his face. Todd clapped politely, smiling at Knox when he walked by on the way back to his seat.

“Good work, gentlemen,” Mr. Keating said. “I admire your commitment to your characters, though I hope I do not offend by saying I don't suspect you two have much experience performing Shakespeare.” Most of the boys laughed, aside from Charlie, who pantomimed stabbing himself in the heart before sitting back down and joining in the laughter. “No shame in that,” Mr. Keating said, once the chuckling had stopped. “Shakespeare’s language is unfamiliar to most of us in this room.” Mr. Keating’s eye settled on Neil. “Mr. Perry, would you like to show us your piece next?”

Todd’s face blanched. The whole class was looking at him and Neil. Todd dropped his pencil, having just finished the last line he needed to write down, and stared at Neil with an expression he hoped would communicate that he was most definitely not ready. Neil looked at him, mouth open in preparation to respond, and noticed Todd’s abject horror. 

“Maybe not quite yet, Captain,” Neil replied, turning back to face Mr. Keating with a placating smile. Mr. Keating looked over at Todd after following Neil’s gaze and nodded to himself.

“Mr. Anderson.” Todd swallowed thickly. “Are you ready to perform?” Mr. Keating asked. Todd withered under the gaze of all the students in the class, all waiting to hear his answer.

“I… I-I’m ready n-now-” Todd stammered, his stomach turning. 

“Captain, just another minute,” Neil said, turning to put his torso between Todd and Mr. Keating in his usual, noble fashion. By now, hesitating was even more humiliating than biting the bullet and getting it over with. So Todd shook his head and got to his feet.

“I’m ready,” he repeated, more surely this time. Neil hesitated a moment before standing beside Todd and grabbing his copy of their script. Mr. Keating nodded, smiling at Todd and clapping him on the shoulder while he walked to the front of the classroom. Mr. Keating sat down in Todd’s chair, leaning forward and watching closely. Todd and Neil turned to face the class, and Todd immediately felt his breath catch in his chest. He turned to Neil, who looked completely at ease, before turning back to face the classroom. Todd’s mouth got dry, and he clenched and unclenched his hands listlessly, paralyzed by the feeling of dozens of eyes on him all at once.

Neil nudged him, script in hand, and Todd snapped out of his trance, blinking hard before attempting to recenter himself. He turned to face Neil, trying to ignore the sea of faces looking at him. Fortunately, Neil had the first line of the scene. Todd could see Neil thinking before he began, running through a condensed version of his getting-into-character routine that Todd had grown so familiar with. Todd felt himself relax a bit as fondness settled in his chest. 

“Is it thy spirit thou send’st from thee? Is it thy will thy image should keep open my heavy eyelids to the weary night?” Neil said, barely glancing at the paper and effortlessly embodying someone who had been unexpectedly awoken in the middle of a heavy slumber. Todd realized his hands were shaking when he looked down at his own script, beginning to read with his eyes glued to the page in front of him.

“O, learn to r-read what silent love h-hath writ. These poor, rude lines of thy d-deceased lover. Who plead for… love and look for recompense. O, let my books be then… the eloquence,” Todd read, his free arm crossed across his chest and making him look like a pouting toddler. He probably should’ve had a prop book, Todd realized, but it was too late for that now. Neil took a step closer, reaching his hand out as though considering whether he’d be able to touch Todd. 

“Dost thou desire my slumbers should be broken while shadows like thee do mock my sight?” Neil spoke, circling Todd, incredulous. “How would, I say, mine eyes be blessed made by looking on thee in the living day.” Neil took another step toward Todd, before crossing away and clutching his hand as though something had burned him. “O, no. Thy love, though much, is not so great.” 

“T-to hear with eyes belongs to love’s fine wit,” Todd began, looking up from his script and taking a step toward Neil, not wanting to embarrass him in front of the class by being such a useless scene partner. “O’ercharged with burden of mine own love’s might. More than that tongue that more hath more expressed.” Todd said, gesturing to the script as though it were the book that he was offering to Neil’s character. Neil’s eyes twinkled for a split second, a fleeting smile flashing across his face. He recentered himself in the scene and carried on with their scripted dialogue.

“For thee watch I whilst thou dost wake elsewhere,” Neil said, taking a step closer to Todd and reaching out in his direction again. Todd froze for a moment, unsure what to do. “From me far off, with others all too near,” Neil continued, taking a step closer to Todd until their faces were inches apart, Neil’s hands still hovering, not making any contact. Todd felt his heart hammering in his chest. “It is my love that keeps mine eye awake, to play the watchman ever for thy sake,” Neil said, pulling away from Todd and dismissing that Todd’s character possibly could have been there.

“O, then vouchsafe me but this loving thought,” Todd began, reaching out toward Neil slightly, subconsciously craving for him to be that close again. “When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover,” Todd gestured to the imaginary book. “Reserve these poems for my love, not for their rhyme.”

Todd’s words hung in the air, before Neil, as sixty-one, of course, turned over his shoulder and looked at Todd - or, twenty-three, rather - with a look that made Todd’s heart ache. Todd turned slightly toward the classroom, looking for Mr. Keating to indicate that they were finished. But, before he could, Neil took two decisive steps toward Todd and grabbed his hands in his firmly, crumpling the paper that Todd held in his left hand. Todd startled at the unexpected contact and inhaled sharply as Neil dropped one of Todd’s hands and brought his now free hand up to cup the back of Todd’s neck, sending electrical impulses through every inch of Todd’s body while he stared, transfixed into Neil’s deep, brown eyes. Neil's face was full of emotion, and his fingers softly rested against Todd's skin, his thumb grazing the edge of Todd's jaw. But just as soon as it happened, Neil dropped his hands to his sides and bowed toward the class, gesturing for Todd to do the same. Todd was frozen in place for a moment, feeling like he'd been pushed into freezing cold water and pulled back to the surface within a matter of seconds. Neil nudged him, and he snapped himself out of his trance.

“Th-that wasn’t the ending we planned on,” Todd muttered to Neil under the sound of their classmates clapping, after he'd awkwardly bowed, his face scrunched up in embarrassment.

“I know,” Neil said with a smirk. “Even though you were right. Yours was such a downer.” Todd rolled his eyes and huffed, hoping he didn't look as flustered as he felt.

“Very compelling, gentlemen!” Mr. Keating said, shooting Todd a knowing look that Todd tried to avoid. “Anyone care to explain what they think that scene was about?” Cameron’s hand shot up, but Charlie had already blurted out an answer by the time he could.

“Well, Todd was dead,” Charlie said. A couple of laughs echoed from the back of the room. Mr. Keating smiled and nodded.

“A strong observation, Mr. Dalton. Anything else?” Mr. Keating scanned the class. “Mr. Cameron?”

“Neil’s character was skeptical,” Cameron answered. “I think,” he added when no one responded to his first comment.

“Mr. Perry, would you say your character was meant to be skeptical?” Mr. Keating asked. Neil slightly lifted his chest, clearly eager to talk about his acting.

“I would say so. Though he comes around at the end,” he said with a smile. Todd looked down and pursed his lips. Seemed like Neil hadn’t committed to the playing a girl thing after all. Todd didn’t know what to make of that.

“Excellent,” Mr. Keating replied. 

“And he - or she? - either way, my character doesn’t believe Todd’s character could really be there, but Todd’s spirit kinda sticks around through the poetry he wrote,” Neil explained enthusiastically. Mr. Keating turned his gaze to Todd, and Todd inhaled sharply in preparation.

“Yes. The poets among us will outlive us all. Don’t you think so, Mr. Anderson?” Todd nodded curtly. 

“Y-yes, sir,” Todd replied, though he hadn't really given it much thought before.

“William Shakespeare. In his lifetime, he was just a man, much like all of you. But Shakespeare, unlike most of us who live and die on this blue rock, has written words that still flow from the lips of actors - and students - to this very day. That’s a sort of immortality, wouldn’t you say? Never being forgotten?"

“Yeah,” Neil breathed, his eyes glinting with enthusiasm again.

“Ernest Hemmingway expressed a similar sentiment: ‘Every man has two deaths, when he is buried in the ground and the last time someone says his name,’” Mr. Keating quoted. Todd watched Neil watching Keating, his face thick with emotion and fascination. “‘In some ways,’” Mr. Keating continued the quote from memory, “‘men can be immortal.’” A reverent silence fell over the room, the kind that often took over the boys of Welton when Mr. Keating spoke. Mr. Keating was looking nowhere in particular, thinking. He seemed to snap out of it and turned his gaze back to Todd and Neil, the former of which was more than eager to return to his seat. “Excellent work, boys.”

Neil nodded graciously, and the two made their way back to their desks. Todd sighed in relief once he no longer felt eyes on him. Neil hit him in the shoulder to get his attention and smiled at Todd victoriously. Todd offered him a small smile in return, afraid that anything more would give away too much. The feeling of Neil gripping Todd’s hands, touching his neck, in front of all their peers, unashamed and unembarrassed, made Todd feel like he might combust. Todd wasn’t even sure if it was something he would want to feel on the regular. He wasn’t sure his heart would be able to take it.

The next group marched to the front of the classroom. An unfortunate pairing: Richard- Perfect-Student-Cameron and the meathead Hopkins. Todd winced in sympathy for Cameron’s plight. Todd really was trying to pay attention to their scene, but he was still reeling. The sonnets Cameron’s group had chosen proved to be no help.

“Desire is death, which physic did expect. Past cure am I, now reason is past care,” Cameron recited clearly but emotionlessly. Desire is death. Shakespeare was on to something with that one, Todd thought.

“Past reason hated… uh… as a swallowed bait. Past reason hunted… um… and no sooner had, mad in pursuit and in possession so,” Hopkins bumbled, making Cameron visibly tense up in fear of his hurting grade on the project. It was clear that Cameron had put together their scene. All the transitions made sense. He really must’ve been hating seeing Hopkins butchering it. Todd chuckled under his breath as Cameron’s face turned red.

“My love is as a fever, longing still for that which longer nurseth the disease,” Cameron said bitterly, attempting to salvage the scene. Even with Cameron’s shitty delivery, Shakespeare’s words were beautiful. Todd repeated the phrase in his head, mulling it over. 

“Enjoyed… uh… enjoyed no sooner but displaced- um, wait, despised straight. Enjoyed no sooner but despised straight,” Hopkins continued. Cameron’s face turned a shade redder. 

“Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill. My thoughts and my discourse as madmen’s are, and frantic-mad with evermore unrest,” Cameron recited. Todd thought of his poem, his sweaty-toothed madman, and thought of the poem sitting unfinished on his desk. He’d finish it once class ended, he resolved. There were only a few lines left, anyway. Getting to be around Neil again, it turned out, made for good material. 

After a few more excruciatingly awkward lines of Cameron and Hopkins’s scene, Hopkins finally concluded with the lines, “A bliss in proof and proved a very woe, to shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.” Todd had been right a week prior in Latin when he’d told himself that if he wasn’t careful, soon everything would remind him of Neil. Because even Hopkins’ pitiful delivery of his closing line made Todd think of his poor attempts at distancing himself from Neil, his own attempt at shunning the heaven that was bound to lead him to hell. But he resolved not to think about that now. He’d use those painful feelings to finish his poem. That’s what Shakespeare would have done, anyway. 

Todd thought back to what Neil had said earlier. Shakespeare was, uh… Shakespeare was many things, but among them, one seemed to stand out to Todd as what Neil must have meant. Shakespeare was certainly no stranger to having relations with the same sex, a fact that Todd had tucked away in his mind when he learned it as a child. Todd wondered if that was what Neil had been thinking. He imagined William Shakespeare himself, feeling the same feelings Todd himself was feeling now, and pouring them into his poetry. It made Todd shiver with an emotion he couldn’t quite place. 

But the feeling was short-lived because, soon, a half-hearted spattering of applause filled the room when Cameron, stiff as a board, turned to face the classroom to indicate that the scene had ended. Todd winced sympathetically while Mr. Keating drummed his fingers on his desk.

“Well, gentlemen,” Mr. Keating began, thinking to himself. “You certainly were lucky with which sonnets you drew! They fit together very nicely, wouldn’t you say?” Charlie laughed at the compliment, but Mr. Keating sounded sincere enough. Neil nodded encouragingly toward Cameron, who rolled his eyes and crossed his arms defensively. “And as I said before, Mr. Cameron, this is not a theatre class. Your arrangement was impressive, regardless of its delivery,” he said with a kind-hearted wink. Cameron relaxed slightly, nodding. 

The remainder of the scenes that day varied in quality substantially. Meeks and Pitts put together an adequate scene using two sonnets about Shakespeare’s lover growing old and losing their beauty, a lucky coincidence that worked out in their favor. A boy that Todd had only ever heard referred to as “Stick” and the boy Mr. Keating had called Mr. Waterson hadn’t been quite so lucky with their poem selection, reciting a clunky scene about one character who rarely visited his lover to keep her precious in his mind and another character who was accusing someone of hiding their secretly evil nature under a facade of politeness. After a few more scenes, class was dismissed, and the remaining pairs were told that they would have a chance to perform later. Neil stood up, collecting his things, including the slips of paper that made up their sonnet, and stuffing them into his bag.

“In a hurry?” Todd asked while Neil reached across the desks to grab his glasses, which he had set down before going up to perform.

“Hager can’t drive me to Henley today, so I have to bike to rehearsal,” Neil explained, shooting Todd a quick smile before returning to his hasty packing. Todd nodded in recognition, putting his hands in his pockets. Neil rushed past Todd as soon as he’d closed his bag, turning backwards to face Todd while he bounded toward the door.

“Later, Whitman!” he called out, saluting Todd with two fingers and beaming before he turned toward the door and practically skipped into the hallway. Todd blushed when he noticed some of the other boys looking up at him, not eager for them to learn about his somewhat embarrassing nickname. Better than Theodore, he thought. 

“Bye,” Todd replied, but Neil was already out of earshot by the time he had. Todd looked down at his open palms, as if he could still feel the ghostly warmth of Neil’s hands gripping his own.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

As strange as it seemed to Todd, Knox still hadn’t finished his poem for Chris. The Dead Poets initiates - minus Neil - had been gathered around a table in the lounge for the past two hours, alternating between working on their own homework and offering suggestions to Knox about improving his poem, though he was extremely reluctant to allow anyone to read it. Even Todd, who had offered to give Knox suggestions on the poem after Charlie had practically bullied him into it, had not been given permission to read Knox’s magnum opus.

“It’s just not right!” Knox exclaimed, his head in his hands, which were stained with graphite smears from his dozens of rewrites. 

“Come on, Knoxious, it can’t be that bad,” Meeks offered placatingly.

“It needs to be perfect, Meeks!”

“Well, as your friend, I have to warn you, this might be as good as it gets,” Cameron joked, prompting Knox to groan loudly.

“I don’t understand how you do it, Todd,” Knox said, gesturing toward Todd without looking up.

“It was- it was one time-” Todd defended, wishing that everyone would move on from the idea that he was some excellent poet. He was no different from the rest of them, after all.

“Come on, Anderson, you’ve got a poet’s soul,” Charlie teased, and Todd rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, right,” Todd replied, shutting his notebook, where he’d been staring at his own poem, trying to hide it from view. It was almost finished - that was finally actually true - but Todd still hadn’t figured out the last stanza. He knew he was overcomplicating things. The poem had already said what he wanted it to say. But, still, it needed some sort of conclusion, and none were coming to mind at the moment.

“Maybe you should take break, Knoxie. Maybe what you need is some good, old-fashioned trigonometry to take your mind off of things,” Pitts said, placing his opened textbook in front of Knox, who let out a second, louder groan.

“If I look at one more triangle, I think I’ll throw up,” Knox replied, closing his eyes in defeat.

“You and me both,” Pitts agreed, withdrawing his textbook with a disappointed sigh. Their study group, lamentably, did not contain anyone with a disposition towards mathematics, which meant that Dr. Hager’s homework was usually the subject of many hours of head-scratching and erasing for all seven members. 

“Listen, at least you guys all partnered up with each other for Keating’s project today. Did you see me up there with Hopkins? Talk about being the seventh wheel,” Cameron complained. 

“Did we see you?” Charlie asked, his usual mischievous grin settling on his face. “Cameron, it’s practically burned into my retinas. I mean, your face got so hot that it was like looking into the sun,” he quipped. Todd and Pitts chuckled, and Meeks smiled to himself, but Knox was sulking too much to laugh. 

“It’s not my fault!” Cameron defended. “You could’ve paired up with me, for once, you know. You’re my roommate, after all,” he snapped back at Charlie, who tilted his head in preparation for a biting retort. Todd winced in anticipation.

“Funny, I think of it the other way. I’m letting you sublet. I’m your landlord. One more complaint, and I might just kick you out.” All things considered, Charlie had let him off easy, but Cameron’s face flushed red nonetheless. 

“Asshole,” Cameron huffed, standing up and storming out of the room. Todd wished Neil were here. Things never got quite so heated when Neil was there, he always managed to deescalate enough that everyone walked away happy. Whenever he was gone, Charlie and Cameron were at each other’s throats, and, of course, Charlie always came out on top. Once Cameron was out of earshot, Todd spoke up on Neil’s behalf.

“Charlie, can’t you cut him a little slack?” Todd asked earnestly, avoiding Charlie’s eyes but looking in his general direction. Since their awkward exchange in the hallway, where Charlie had convinced Todd to make up with Neil, Todd had been uncertain about how to talk to Charlie. They’d shared a strangely honest moment with each other, and Todd wasn’t great at bouncing back from honest moments. He tended to avoid them for that exact reason.

“Come on, I am cutting him slack. You saw that scene today, didn’t you? I could’ve said much worse,” Charlie put his hands up defensively. Meeks rolled his eyes, ever the pacifist, and went back to his textbook. 

“Sure, but you don’t need to embarrass him like that,” Meeks added, still looking down.

“You too, Meeks? Really?”

“I just don’t like all the fighting. Especially while I’m trying to study,” Meeks explained, flipping the page in his book for emphasis. Charlie crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. After a few moments, he nudged Knox, clearly hoping someone would take his side. 

“Our scene was much better than Carrot-Top’s, right Knox?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’m trying to finish my poem here,” Knox replied, brushing Charlie off. Charlie looked distinctly disappointed, and Todd shrugged at him.

“Fine,” Charlie said, uncrossing his arms and getting to his feet. “I’ll go apologize.” Meeks nodded to himself, face still buried in his textbook, while Charlie marched out of the room. Todd sighed and leaned back in his chair, reopening his notebook and staring at his poem again.

Dreaming of the wisdom that we are dodging daily

Praying for a savior when salvation’s in our hands.

And still we sleep.

That was where Todd had left off, lines that had come to him after he’d skipped going to the chapel the day prior. Neil had woken Todd up before the sun had risen with his standard Neil Perry grin on his face and asked for help running his lines, and Todd had opted to do that instead. The lines were almost an ending, Todd thought. Almost, but not quite. He drummed his pencil against the notebook again, wishing that he really was the prodigy poet that all of his friends seemed to think he was. If he were, this would’ve been easy.

Their conversation died down for a few minutes, the sound of pencils scratching against paper and Meeks turning the pages in his notebook no longer muffled by Charlie and Cameron’s tense back-and-forth. Soon, though, Charlie and Cameron reentered the lounge. Cameron’s arms were still crossed in his standard gesture of indicating that he hadn’t let go of it so easily, but Charlie’s relaxed strut into the room told Todd that all was well. He exhaled again, preparing for the temporary silence to be interrupted as soon as the pair sat back down. 

“Todd,” Charlie said as soon as he’d taken his seat. “Whatcha working on?”

“N-nothing,” Todd answered, shutting his notebook definitively and tucking it back into his bag.

“Is that so?” Charlie asked, leaning forward with wide eyes.

“Yep,” Todd insisted, crossing his arms petulantly.

“Fine. Well, as long as it’s nothing important, I want to talk to you about something.”

“Why me?” Todd asked.

“Well, I want to talk to everyone, but you’re the one who’s the most likely to say no,” Charlie explained. Todd furrowed his eyebrows, unsure where Charlie was going with this.

“What do you mean?”

“So,” Charlie began, grabbing the cover of Meeks’ textbook and slamming it shut, earning an exasperated sigh from Meeks. “Neil’s show is tomorrow.”

“Yeah?” Todd asked, his head tilted toward Charlie. 

“And we all know how excited he is about the show,” Charlie elaborated, to which the group nodded and muttered their agreement. “So, I was thinking tomorrow night we celebrate.” Charlie raised his eyebrows in a way that indicated that he was scheming. Todd pursed his lips like he’d tasted something sour. Charlie’s schemes always led to no good, Todd had learned, even after just a few months of knowing the guy.

“Celebrate how?” Knox asked, graciously looking up from his Chris-poem.

“Well, we’d throw a Dead Poets meeting!” Charlie must have realized how underwhelming that sounded because he quickly clarified. “Not just a regular meeting, no, no. A bonafide hullabaloo.”

“Hullabaloo?” Meeks repeated mockingly.

“A big deal! A celebration for our dear friend!” Charlie said, sticking his hands out like he was a politician giving an address. As ridiculous as Charlie looked, though, Todd knew he was right. Neil would love something like that. He was a much bigger fan of pomp and circumstance than Todd ever had been, and he deserved a celebration worthy of all the work he’d put into this production.

“So,” Todd asked, “what’s the plan?”

“Well, we’ll need alcohol, of course,” Charlie answered loudly, to which Knox and Pitts both shushed him and looked around anxiously. Charlie was undisturbed, however, and continued his explanation. “But I can get that plenty easy. And we’ll need something to eat, like a cake or a pie or something, so we’ll need to see if someone will drive us into town.”

“I bet Hager will drive us if I ask,” Cameron chimed in. Having Cameron around did have its perks, Todd thought. Every group needed a kiss-ass.

“You’d really do that?” Knox asked, genuinely taken aback.

“Well, it’s not like we’d be breaking the rules…” Cameron said, blushing again. Todd was glad he wasn’t a redhead, or his blushing problem would be even more noticeable. Charlie laughed and clapped Cameron on the shoulder as though they hadn’t been in a shouting match less than half an hour prior. 

“And we’d need some solid poetry to read,” Charlie continued. Before Todd could think, the words had escaped his mouth.

“I have something.”  

All five of the boys looked right at him, expressions ranging from surprise to confusion to excitement. 

“You have something?” Pitts asked incredulously, and Meeks smacked him with the back of his hand.

“That’d be great, Todd,” Meeks said, glaring at Pitts like he was a misbehaving child. “I’m sure Neil would love that.” Todd grimaced, mortified that he’d offered in the first place, and looked down at the notebook that housed the something he’d been referring to. He really had to finish it tonight, in that case. Todd stared down at his bag, avoiding the gaze of the boys who were surveying him for his reaction. Thankfully, Charlie drew the attention away from Todd after an uncomfortable silence.

“Alright, boys,” Charlie said. “We’ve got ourselves a plan.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It was nearly 8:00 P.M. by the time Knox finally finished his poem, and the group had migrated to the dining hall. On the way over, Neil had sprinted over toward them, excitement radiating off of him. He’d gotten back later than usual from his rehearsal, and Todd had been waiting impatiently for him to return for nearly an hour by the time he came bounding into the building. Todd couldn’t help but beam at him as he quite literally bounced up and down and uttered something barely intelligible about swinging by his room to change. The dress rehearsal, he explained, had involved a great deal of physical exertion, and Neil was certain his clothes would stick to him if he didn’t change them soon. Neil turned to leave, just as the-boy-known-as-Stick appeared beside Pitts.

“What’s for dinner?” he asked, smacking Pitts on the shoulder to get his attention. The two must have been friends, or must have known each other in the past, based on the casual way they spoke to each other.

“Spaghetti and meatballs!” Pitts replied energetically.

“Save some for me!” Neil called out before disappearing up the stairs. Todd smiled in his direction before turning his attention back to where he was walking, the swarm of bodies guiding him into the dining hall like the current of a river.

The boys ate dinner much more quickly than usual, all energized and excited about their plans of surprising Neil after his performance. Todd didn’t pay much mind to the fact that Neil didn’t come back down to the dining hall. He figured Neil must’ve decided to take a shower rather than just changing his clothes. It was easy to forget about it completely while watching Pitts attempt to shove six meatballs into his mouth, trying to beat Charlie’s previous record of five-and-a-half, the half being a compromise for the meatball that Charlie hadn’t quite been able to close his lips around.

“Hmfph!” Pitts exclaimed excitedly, pointing toward his mouth. His eyes were crossed in concentration, and his lips were stretched taut like an overfilled balloon, but he had technically managed to fit all six meatballs into his mouth. Todd laughed and clapped around with the others while Pitts struggled with the question of how to get the meatballs out of his mouth, looking around frantically before giving up and darting over to the nearest trash can to spit them out. The remaining boys roared with laughter, only quieting down when Nolan towered over their table, a dangerous glint in his eyes. 

“Wipe your face, Mr. Dalton,” he said. “You look like a farm animal.” 

As soon as Nolan walked away, the boys fought back their laughter, hiding their faces behind their napkins to avoid being caught. 

For the rest of dinner, no one else attempted to break Pitts’ record, and he was left as the undisputed Meatball-King, a title which Todd didn’t quite see the appeal of in the first place. However, Pitts was ecstatic, and Charlie seemed devastated to have lost the seemingly highly coveted title. Once the rest of the spaghetti and meatballs had been scraped clean from all of their plates, the boys began the walk to the bathrooms to get ready for bed.

Neil wasn’t in the bathroom, but Todd didn’t find that too strange. He must’ve gotten ready when he went to shower. What Todd did find strange, though, was that, when he returned to his dorm room, Neil wasn’t there either. He considered going to ask Charlie, though that seemed a bit overdramatic. Unlike the seventh graders, Neil wasn’t likely to wander off and get lost in some remote corner of Welton and lack the common sense to retrace his steps. Finding crying seventh graders in all the secret spots within the building was a common occurrence, Todd had learned quickly. But Neil knew his way around, of course. Wherever he was, he was likely to be back by the time Todd fell asleep.

With his concern about Neil minimized for the time being, Todd went back to his poem. He stared at it until the words seemed to float off the page and blend together. Quickly blinking away the distorted visuals, he sighed defeatedly. Todd’s problem, he’d realized long ago, was that he thought far too much about his poems. The reason he’d been able to put something together with Keating spinning him around and shouting in his ear was precisely because he hadn’t had the time to think. Staring at a piece of paper, waiting for ideas to come to him, wasn’t going to do him any good. Todd stood up and began pacing in circles in the center of the dorm room, as he had many times before, hoping the mindless ritual would help him come up with something of substance. 

As soon as Neil stepped through the door, Todd could tell something was wrong. The door swung open forcefully, Neil’s grip on the doorknob firm and his head hung lower than usual. Todd stopped his pacing and managed to get a good look at Neil before he turned his face away. Neil’s cheeks were red, and his eyes looked puffy, his lips tugged into a tight frown. Todd’s jaw slackened at the realization that Neil had been crying. It seemed so implausible that Neil Perry - who seemed slightly too perfect, untouchable, incomparable - was even capable of crying. Todd felt cold, a strange sort of fear seizing him. Neil trudged into the room, walking straight to where his coat was hanging and yanking it off the hook before turning back toward the door. At the same time, Todd instinctively jumped to his feet and darted toward the doorway.

“Neil-” Todd blurted out, reaching out toward him as Neil grabbed for the doorknob again to close the door behind him. Todd hadn’t consciously chosen to do so, but he caught Neil’s arm in his outstretched hand, halting Neil’s rushed exit. Neil’s arm tensed, and his head turned to face Todd. Todd flinched, expecting Neil to be glaring daggers at him for interrupting. Instead, what Todd saw made his heart drop into his stomach. Neil looked completely, utterly exhausted. His eyes were shiny and tinged red, and in them was an emptiness that seemed completely antithetical to everything that was Neil Perry. His lips were tightly pressed together and the inner corners of his eyebrows were upturned, a wrinkle forming between them. Todd’s jaw fell open in surprise, and in the same instant, Neil blinked exaggeratedly and fixed his expression into something neutral. And just as quickly as the suffocating moment had begun, it was over.

“Let me go, Todd,” Neil quietly insisted, avoiding Todd’s eye. Todd’s grip on Neil’s arm tightened subconsciously, and Neil tugged against him for a moment before relenting with a sigh. 

“Where?” Todd asked breathily, wanting to pull Neil back into the room and close the door behind him but settling for a one-word question instead.

“Please, just let me go,” Neil repeated, turning away from Todd in what Todd would have otherwise assumed was frustration, but in the moment, he knew it to be something far more vulnerable.

“Are you okay?” Todd asked, though he could already tell the answer was no, and he could already tell that Neil wasn’t likely to admit that.

“Yes. I’m fine,” Neil replied, tugging his arm free from Todd’s grip and stepping into the hallway. Todd followed behind him, feeling emboldened by the knowledge that Neil would have done the same if Todd were the one being evasive. And Todd was always the one being evasive, he realized. It was never Neil. That fact made Todd even more certain that he had to follow him. Neil stopped moments later when he noticed Todd was behind him, pivoting over his shoulder. 

“Please, Todd-” Neil started.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Todd persisted childishly, his hands in fists by his sides to keep them from reaching out for Neil’s jacket.

“I’m sure, okay? I just… I need some air,” Neil explained, nodding to himself as if it would trick Todd into doing the same. Air.

“The roof?” Todd asked, taking another step to keep up with Neil as he started to walk away again. Neil stopped, turning to face Todd once more, and exhaled through his nose. He hesitated a moment before answering.

“Yeah.”

“Can I…” Todd began. “Can I come with you?”  Another flash of sadness stained Neil’s neutral expression. He opened his mouth slightly, considering. “I- I’ll be quiet,” Todd added, inhaling sharply after he did. It felt awfully pathetic, pleading this much. But it was what Neil would’ve done, Todd reminded himself. 

“Um…” Neil crossed his arms defensively.

“I want to come with you,” Todd clarified, surprised by his own boldness. Neil raised his eyebrows slightly and let a puff of air out of his opened lips.

“Okay,” Neil breathed uncertainly before taking another breath and composing himself. “Okay,” He repeated more confidently. Todd felt something in him release, like a knot had come undone inside of him. But as Neil looked at him, Todd’s momentary adrenaline-induced confidence wore off. Neil wanted space. What right did Todd have to interrupt that? If something was wrong, being around Todd certainly wouldn’t do Neil any good. Of all the skills Todd lacked, comforting people was one of his worst. Todd would only make things worse.

“You don’t-” Todd started, before shaking his head and starting again. “If you want to be alone, I- I get it. I shouldn’t have pushed-” 

“No,” Neil said immediately, seemingly surprising himself. “Come.” Todd knew Neil well enough to know that this time, he meant it.

Todd felt something warm blossoming in his chest, and he wanted so badly to grab Neil’s hand and pull him closer, wanted so desperately to express the gratitude and relief that was swelling inside of him. Instead, he nodded curtly, matching Neil’s steps as Neil started walking toward the storage room. Todd snuck glances at Neil every few steps, searching for some explanation for the weight that seemed to be resting on Neil’s shoulders. No explanation revealed itself, however, and within less than a minute, they’d reached the storage room. Neil scanned the surroundings before slowly pulling the door open in silence. 

Todd followed behind Neil into the dusty room, once again unable to suppress the urge to sneeze when the accumulated dust wafted into the air. Neil muttered a quick “bless you,” before collecting books to create his makeshift ladder. He was moving much faster than the last time Todd had snuck up here with him. He opened the trapdoor with ease, making Todd wonder if his jumping and grabbing for the handle the other night had been more for Todd’s amusement than anything else. Neil was a performer, that was for certain. Something in Todd ached, though, at the thought. 

Neil pulled himself through the trapdoor effortlessly, hoisting his body onto the roof. Todd climbed atop the stack of books, looking up at Neil, who reached out a hand for Todd to take, just as he had two weeks prior. Todd clasped Neil’s hand tightly and, as he had two weeks prior, struggled to pull himself up onto the roof. With Neil’s help, though, Todd managed to get one elbow up over the lip of the trapdoor and shuffled his arms forward until he’d pulled himself through the opening. Neil let go of Todd’s hand and sat down, and Todd immediately realized he’d made a significant mistake in this plan. It was a frigid night, and he’d left his coat in their room. Todd sighed and crossed his arms, tensing his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. He sat down beside Neil, who was looking down at his feet while he kicked absentmindedly at the shingles.

The two of them sat in silence for a while, Todd closely watching Neil’s breath turning to steam to distract himself from how cold he was. Neil was staring out, his jaw fixed and his brows creased. Todd crossed his arms tighter, trying to preserve his limited body heat, and pulled his knees up toward his chest. Neil turned to Todd, his face softening. 

“Are you cold?” Neil asked simply. Todd exhaled slightly, wishing he’d done a better job of hiding how chilled he was. 

“No,” Todd lied, but his chattering teeth as he spoke gave him away. Neil smiled at him fondly. Todd felt his heart skip a beat.

“Here-” Neil sat up and tugged his coat off over his bent elbows, taking it in one hand and holding it out toward Todd. Todd’s eyes widened.

“Neil, I don’t want to take your-” he started.

“C’mon. It’s no problem,” Neil interrupted earnestly.

“Neil-”

“Take it, Todd,” Neil insisted. Todd stared at the coat in Neil’s hand and tentatively reached for it, Neil nodding encouragingly and dropping the coat into Todd’s grasp as soon as Todd closed his hand around the soft fabric. Todd didn’t put it on immediately, opting instead to stare at it like he wasn’t quite sure whether it was real. Todd debated whether putting on Neil’s clothes was a step too far. But Neil was watching him, so he slowly put it on, buttoning the front and crossing his arms over his chest again.

“Thanks,” Todd breathed, trying not to notice that the coat smelled like Neil and failing miserably. 

“Course,” Neil replied, and, of course, he really meant it. Todd looked down at his knees, and Neil looked back out at whatever profound unknown only Neil Perry could see. It was silent for a long time, the evening out of Todd’s shivering breath and the whistling wind on the roof the only sounds disturbing the seemingly endless stillness that consumed Vermont at night. Todd squinted his eyes and resisted the urge to bite his lips, wishing he had some other way to alleviate the tension. Todd was unsure whether to prioritize his desire to give Neil his space and privacy or his desperate desire to understand what was wrong. But Todd hated when he didn’t understand, and ultimately that won out over his better reason.

“Neil-” Todd said, turning toward him.

“I was just talking to Mr. Keating, and-” Neil replied at the same time, like his reason had failed him, too, and put his hands up like he was reaching for something intangible. But he cut himself off and dropped his hands before sighing and gripping his kneecaps.

“Yeah?” Todd tried.

“Never mind,” Neil dismissed, dropping his head. “Never mind. Are you still cold?” 

“I’m fine,” Todd said. It was quiet again, before Todd tentatively asked, “What did you talk to Mr. Keating about?”

“It wasn’t anything important,” Neil explained, refusing to look at Todd directly. Although Neil’s habit manifested quite differently than Todd’s did, Todd wasn’t the only one who had a tendency to avoid things that made him uncomfortable. 

“Is… is everything okay, Neil?” Todd asked after another, shorter silence. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m alright. It’s just…”

“What?” Todd’s eyes were fixed on Neil now, hoping somehow that if he wasn’t shying away from the conversation, Neil wouldn’t want to, either.

“I’m… worried, I guess,” Neil admitted with an uncertain shrug. “Like… something bad is gonna happen.” 

“About the show?” Todd asked. Neil paused, mulling it over.

“I guess so.”

“You… you think something’s gonna go wrong?”

“It’s… complicated, I guess,” he replied after a moment of consideration. Neil wasn’t usually the type to guess. Todd frowned and cracked his knuckles. Todd never thought he’d have to reassure Neil. It made him feel unsteady, like he was walking across a tightrope and couldn’t stick his arms out for balance. 

“Well, I’m- I’m just excited to see you perform,” Todd tried. “You’re gonna be amazing. I know you will.”

“Thanks, Whitman.” Neil smiled a small smile and went back to kicking at the shingles.

“I- I mean it! If our sonnets today were anything to go off of…” Todd said, nudging Neil. He wasn’t eager to bring up that confusing experience, already having read into it far beyond what was rational. Ever since Todd's recent spiral, beginning with his first dream a few weeks prior, every single twitch of Neil’s eyebrows or change of inflection in his voice was tucked away in Todd’s mind as evidence, trying to prove his strange, pitiful theories of maybe, maybe, maybe. 

“You flatter me. It’s easy to act with you. Who knows if I’ll be nearly as good acting off of Ginny Danburry,” Neil teased. Todd pressed his lips into a line, feeling warmth creeping up his neck. 

“Me?” Todd exclaimed with a half-laugh. “But I don’t know shit about acting!”

“No, but you’re you,” Neil said with a smirk. Todd’s eyes widened while Neil looked at him slightly too attentively. 

“Huh?” Todd replied stupidly before he could properly process what Neil had just said. He didn’t mean that, Todd reminded himself. Neil was a flatterer. He didn’t mean that.

“Dummy,” Neil laughed to himself, stretching out his legs.

“Hey!” Todd retorted, though Neil clearly meant no harm. An idea seemed to come to Neil while he rotated his ankles, looking down at his legs as though they were something new and interesting rather than a completely normal facet of his everyday life. Todd loved that about Neil, his ability to find something extraordinary in the mundane. 

Todd watched while Neil shot up to his feet, stretching out his arms and tipping his head back. He inhaled deeply and let it out with a sigh. Neil breathed in and out a few more times, before he took a few steps backward and bent down to grab a shingle from the roof. He pulled on it hard, nearly falling backwards when it came loose in his hand, and started making a beeline toward the edge of the roof. Todd shot to his feet, feeling his heart drop to his stomach and his voice completely fail. Neil had nearly reached the edge of the roof, and Todd was struck with the horrifying thought that he wouldn’t stop running, that he’d throw himself over the edge and fall the long, long way to the ground. Fear began to darken the edges of Todd’s vision and completely paralyzed him. But Neil did stop, his shoes sliding against the shingles, before he hucked the shingle with all his strength, pulling his arm back like a discus thrower.

“Jesus, Neil!” Todd cried out, his voice sounding much more frightened than he had anticipated. “You’re gonna fall!”

“I’m not gonna fall,” Neil replied, breaking his focus on the flying shingle once it had fallen past the height of the roof, and marching over to grab another. “Look,” he began, reaching down and pulling another shingle free, the act requiring surprisingly little strain. Todd wondered how long it had been since these shingles had been put on, before Neil took off toward the edge of the roof again and demanded more of Todd’s attention.

Now that he wasn’t caught completely off guard, it was clear that Neil was indeed right that he wasn’t likely to fall. Todd was relieved that, whatever Neil was upset about, it hadn’t seemed to give him some sort of death wish. Neil pulled his arm back again and threw the shingle, the piece of asphalt spinning in the air and traveling far further than the first. Todd watched in awe as it flew into the distance, Neil doing the same.

“Whoo!” Neil cheered before turning back to Todd. 

“If someone sees those shingles anywhere on the grounds, they’re gonna freak,” Todd shouted from the other side of the roof. 

“Is that how the historian of the Dead Poets Society should be talking?” Neil shouted back in Todd’s direction. 

“It’s an unofficial position,” Todd retorted, quieter, to avoid being caught by any of the prowling staff members who might have heard their muffled voices down in the hallways. Neil heard him, though, and laughed in a way that almost made Todd forget how upset Neil had been when they came up to the roof.

“Try it,” Neil insisted, marching back toward Todd and wrenching another shingle free. He placed the shingle in Todd’s hand, closing Todd’s fingers around it insistently.

“Neil, I-”

“Come on, Todd,” Neil said, and of course that was all it took for Todd to relent, because it was Neil Perry. Todd sighed and slowly crossed toward the edge of the roof, ignoring Neil’s instruction that he chanted as he darted past Todd of “it’s more exciting if you run,” and came to a stop once he’d reached the edge of the roof. He pulled his arm back, the same way Neil had, and whipped the shingle forward with all of his strength. He and Neil both watched as the shingle flew out into the darkness, not quite as far as Neil’s had, but an impressive distance nonetheless. Todd smiled without meaning to. He had to admit that it was exhilarating to see the shingle spinning until he couldn’t see it anymore in the darkness.

“See?” Neil said, noticing the awestruck look on Todd’s face. Neil went for another shingle, explaining that only the shingles at the top of the roof were loose enough to rip free. Todd realized that there was a bald spot on the roof beside where he’d been standing earlier, quickly putting two-and-two together and deducing that Neil had done this plenty of times before. Todd grabbed another, this time picking up a bit of speed as he crossed over to the edge of the roof, and hucked it, while Neil, over Todd’s shoulder, did the same. Their two shingles soared through the air, their arcs nearly the same height, before inevitably falling back down to the earth. 

They went on like that for a while, trying to find methods to measure how far their makeshift discuses had traveled. Neil’s had gotten as far as the third-white-tree, and one of Todd’s had reached halfway-between-the-pines, meaning that Todd still had a few yards to gain if he wanted to beat Neil’s record. After around twelve throws, though, Todd was beyond exhausted, his arm aching from exertion. Todd watched as Neil leaned over and put his hands on his knees to catch his breath. Todd loudly sucked in air while Neil laughed to himself, exhausted. Neil looked up and met Todd’s eye, the two of them flushed and sweaty and smiling at each other like little kids. They stayed like that for longer than Todd had anticipated, until Todd’s eyes fluttered down, and he noticed the goosebumps covering Neil’s arms.

“Neil, you’ve gotta be freezing!” Todd exclaimed, suddenly feeling guilty that he hadn’t remembered to ask earlier. 

“I’m alright, Todd,” Neil explained, raising his arm from his hunched position. 

“You’re gonna catch a cold before your performance,” he replied dryly. Neil smiled, straightening up and stretching out his arms, which Todd imagined were just as sore as his own were.

“Maybe,” Neil agreed with a shrug. “Maybe not.” Neil leaned over and flopped down against the shingles, lying flat on his back and relaxing as though he’d just collapsed onto a cushy mattress. 

“Most likely,” Todd retorted, trying his best to hold his ground. But Neil didn’t react, and in yet another resounding example of Todd’s inability to resist peer pressure, within a matter of moments, he found himself lying beside Neil, looking up into the inky night sky. It was an impressive sight, Todd admitted to himself, and not one that he noticed all that often. The stars shimmered like Christmas lights against the darkness. Todd was struck with the reeling, disorienting sense of his own insignificance that one often gets from looking at the night sky. He listened to Neil's breathing and wondered whether Neil felt insignificant, too.

“I wish we could stay out here,” Neil said, clearly attempting to hit his usual playful tone but falling a bit short.

“Yeah, I’m sure Nolan would love that. We’d get so many demerits they might not even let us move on to senior year,” Todd joked and turned toward Neil, eager to look away from the starry sky that seemed to be swallowing him up bit by bit.

“Hmmm. Might be worth it,” Neil replied, still looking up into the ether.

“Maybe. Maybe not.” 

Neil exhaled a laugh through his nose, the corner of his mouth crooking into a small smile. Todd would’ve preferred to keep looking at Neil, but instead, he looked back up, trying to identify any of the constellations he’d heard about as a kid. But after a few moments, Todd’s search was interrupted when Neil rolled over onto his side and tapped Todd on the shoulder, a strange look in his eyes.

“Todd, can I ask you something?” Neil asked, an edge of nervousness in his voice that made Todd’s stomach twist up. He didn’t have any semblance of an idea of what to expect, and was tempted to defy all social norms and simply answer no, but he didn’t have the confidence. 

“Uh… yeah,” Todd answered uncertainly while he awkwardly rolled over to face Neil, their faces now slightly too close for comfort.

“Did I… um,” Neil started, clearing his throat. “During our scene today, did that… upset you?” 

“What?” Todd asked, wondering whether Neil was worried that Todd still hadn’t gotten over his change in the ending. 

“I just meant that I was- you know - I was trying to be in character, or whatever,” Neil explained, turning away from Todd and gesturing with his free hand. Todd’s heart froze up in his chest as he began to understand what Neil was referring to. He felt warmth creeping up his neck as he remembered the feeling of Neil’s fingers against his skin, the softness in his eyes, the sincerity in his voice.

“Oh. You mean about…?” Todd began, worried that his voice would give away the emotion building in his chest.

“You just seemed… I dunno, uncomfortable.” 

“No, uhm…” Todd began, turning away from Neil to hide the fact that he had turned beet red. He didn’t know what to say, horrified that whatever was reading on his face during the scene had given Neil so much pause. “I wasn’t. Uncomfortable.”

“Oh. Okay. Good.”

A long silence hung between them before Todd asked something stupid, something that he had no good excuse for asking.

“You don’t have any scenes, you know, like that in your play, do you?” Todd pinched up his face as soon as he’d realized what he said, hoping he wouldn’t need to explain why he’d ask such a strange question, and hoping he’d be able to invent any answer aside from the obvious. Neil laughed, and Todd wasn’t sure whether that should’ve made him more relieved or more panicked. 

“We’ve run all my scenes together dozens of times,” Neil said with a laugh, and Todd squinted his eyes and pinched up his lips in embarrassment. 

“Yeah, but I- I might’ve been missing something. I’m… kind of clueless about that stuff,” Todd said, trying to return his expression to normal before Neil noticed. Neil didn’t respond right away, laughing to himself. “What?”

“Nothing,” Neil replied, turning back to look at the sky and putting his hands under his head.

“I’m… I’m sure you don’t have that problem, though, do you?” Todd said, imagining all the girls that probably oggled over Neil every time he walked through the doors at Henley Hall. The thought made him sick, and he tried to distract himself by picking at the asphalt beneath his fingertips.

“Why’s that?” Neil asked, as though his charisma wasn’t obvious to everyone who met him.

“I dunno. You just… understand people,” Todd explained, turning his head for a split second to look at Neil, who was staring intently up at the stars.

“I guess so, yeah,” Neil agreed. He paused for a moment, breathing in and out loudly. Todd turned again to look at Neil, watching as he shifted against the rooftop. “Girls have always liked me,” Neil added. Todd raised his eyebrows at the apparent nonsequiter, ignoring the twisting feeling inside of him.

“...Okay, good for you, man,” Todd said with joking annoyance in his voice, hoping that it would cover for his sudden surge of emotion.

“No, come on, I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean, like… I don’t know. I guess I’m good at understanding what people want. Or what they need. And I guess that makes people like me. That’s all I meant,” Neil defended, sitting up to emphasize his point and hitting Todd in the kneecap. Todd kept his gaze straight up, worried that any response would give him away. A million questions were running through Todd's mind. Did Neil already know everything that Todd had been trying to keep from him? Had he known all along? Was Todd just another person who Neil was cleverly winning over, no more special to him than any of the strangers he charmed when the boys went into town over the weekends? Instead of asking any of those, though, Todd asked an easy, stupid, insignificant question.

“Henley Hall girls?” Todd asked after a while, looking at Neil without sitting up.

“Some of them,” Neil replied quietly. Todd nodded before swallowing thickly.

“Are you… I mean, do you like any of them back?” Todd practically whispered, looking away from Neil again as his face blossomed with color. Neil kept Todd waiting in the suspenseful silence before he laid back down beside him.

“No. I don’t,” Neil answered definitively. 

“Oh,” Todd replied, feeling a mixture of fear and relief boiling inside of him. Neil turned to face Todd, and Todd seemed to freeze up, seeing Neil in his periphery while he looked up at the sky. Todd felt his heart pounding, time seeming to move in slow motion. Todd turned his neck, propping himself up on one elbow while Neil locked eyes with him. Todd didn’t move, watching as Neil’s face slowly morphed into a smile, the two of them laying side by side on the cold asphalt roof. And Neil was beautiful, and Neil was right there, so close, so real, so alive. For a split second, Todd forgot everything else. But as soon as he forgot, he remembered himself again.

“Uh… we should go in soon so you can get some sleep. And so you don’t get hypothermia,” Todd nervously stammered, scrambling to his feet to put some distance between himself and Neil before he burst into flames. 

“Five more minutes,” Neil joked, his small, sincere smile still spread across his face. 

“You’re the one with the show tomorrow, not me,” Todd evaded, while Neil’s smile widened. Todd began to worry that Neil had noticed the pink creeping into Todd’s cheeks, or the flustered way he shook his head while he spoke.

“So, you have no reason to say no,” Neil retorted, pointing a finger at Todd like he’d just put forth an unbeatable argument. Todd sighed, rubbing his neck. He stayed standing for a moment longer, but soon he sat beside Neil again, unable to avoid smiling when Neil clapped him on the shoulder and yanked him backward so that he was staring upward again. So he was lying next to Neil again. And Todd didn't have the heart to turn that down.

After a few more minutes, Todd turned over to Neil, whose face was pink from the cold, and who was covered from head to toe in goosebumps. Steam rose from his mouth as he exhaled through pursed lips.

“Your nose is starting to run,” Todd said with a wry smile, watching as Neil scrambled to wipe his face, looking down at his hand intently.

“Yeah, yeah, okay, you’re right. Let’s go in,” Neil agreed, embarrassed, before sniffling and wiping his nose again. Todd started to stand up, and once he'd gotten to his feet he offered his hand to Neil. Neil shot him another brilliant smile and took Todd's hand, popping up onto his feet. 

Neil led the way back through the trapdoor and down the darkened hallway, though, this time, he had no flashlight to guide the way. He must not have been too reliant on it in the first place, though, because he snuck through the darkened hallways with ease. Todd followed closely behind him, watching his feet to make sure he didn’t trip on the edge of a rug or a dropped pencil and splay out across the floor like a ragdoll. 

The pair made it back to the dorm without any major incidents. Neil stepped through the doorway and flicked the light switch, murky yellow light filling the room. Todd walked in after him while Neil rushed over to the radiator, cranking the heat up and warming his hands. The old radiator sputtered and croaked while Todd silently removed Neil’s coat, carefully hanging it up on the rack. 

He watched Neil warming his hands for a while longer before the aching in his heart started to catch up with him. Todd turned away and walked toward his side of the room. He reached for his book bag resting against the end of his bedframe, eager to finish his poem before the celebration. But before he could grab it, he pulled his hand away. Finishing his poem could wait until the morning, after all. That way, he’d avoid raising any questions that might spoil the surprise planned for the following evening. Neil began to shed his layers of Welton-ordered garb and change into his pajamas, and Todd promptly looked down at his feet. He stayed that way until the rustling of clothing had come to a stop, and Neil had walked over to the light switch, looking at Todd for approval. Todd nodded his head, and Neil flicked the switch. The room went dark. Neil stayed by the light switch for a moment, looking out of the window above the radiator. Todd watched him, wishing he knew what he was thinking about, but certain he never would.

“Goodnight, Todd,” Neil said decisively before walking over to his bed and lying down, the mattress creaking when he first made contact.

“Goodnight, Neil,” Todd replied, doing the same after he unlaced his shoes and tucked them under his bed frame. Todd grabbed his covers and pulled them up to his shoulders, his mind still running at one hundred miles an hour after the events of the day. He thought about everything Neil had said up on the roof, trying to straighten out all the details in his mind, running through their dialogue again and again in his head like their conversation was a scene Todd had to memorize. 

He thought of the feeling of Neil's hand against his neck, his touch gentle and so much like Todd's dream; Todd reaching out for Neil and touching him, before Neil whispered his name, and Todd woke up and was forced back into reality. How Neil touched him like he was something delicate, like his skin was the petal of a rose. Todd thought of their sonnets, and of the dead poet and his lover. He thought of what Mr. Keating said about immortality. It was bullshit, he decided. Ernest Hemingway could write whatever he wanted about the immortality of art or memories. It didn't change anything. The dead poet's lover would never read those poems and see the spirit of the person he once loved. They were only scraps, and no amount of prodding or rearranging would bring anyone back from the dead. No more than cutting up Shakespeare's sonnets and staring at the slips on a scuffed, wooden desk would revive the man. So what if it was cynical, Todd decided. It was true, even if Neil had changed their scene's ending.

Once Todd had gone through the facts of the day, he began to wonder. Todd wondered again what Neil had spoken with Mr. Keating about, about what possibly could've hurt him enough to make him cry. He wondered how Neil had brushed it off so quickly. He wondered whether Neil was being honest when he said he didn't like any of the girls at Henley Hall, or if he merely knew that was what Todd wanted to hear. He wondered how often Neil said things, how often he did things, just to make the people around him happy. He wondered and wondered and wondered. 

Once Todd had exhausted every possible question he could invent without finding answers to any of them, he decided to give it a rest to keep his brain from frying like the engine of an old car. If he didn't go to sleep soon, he'd be dozing off all through Neil's surprise party. Todd tried to get comfortable, turned on his side facing toward the wall, but after a while of trying and failing to do so, he rolled over to face the center of the room. The moment he did, Todd’s breath caught in his throat. Neil was facing toward him, his eyes wide open, hands tucked under his cheek against his pillow. He'd been looking at him. Their eyes met in the dim light, pale white shining through their room's tiny window.

The darkness made the moment feel more like a dream than reality. Todd supposed that was why he didn’t look away. The radiator hummed while Todd laid completely still, silently looking in Neil’s eyes, watching him blink and noticing the rise and fall of his side in his peripheral vision. Something electric seemed to be filling the room, the hair on Todd’s neck standing up like lightning was about to strike. But still, he didn’t move, he didn't look away. Because this time, Neil was watching him, too. Todd opened his mouth to say something, but something in him told him to keep quiet. If this was another dream, he didn't want to wake himself up. So the silence stretched on while the two of them looked at each other, Neil’s expression soft and curious and full of warmth and affection and… something. Something. Something. 

Something that made Todd want to yell, that made him want to throw off his covers and grab Neil’s face and kiss him or hit him or yell at him or admit things to him that had been eating away at him from the inside. Todd could practically feel the chambers of his heart echoing the words he wanted to say, pulsing them into his bloodstream, a churning river of I’m in love with you that couldn’t be slowed or diverted once the weight of the water all began tumbling in one direction. Todd wanted to let it all flow from his mouth, to let it fill the room up from the bottom, even if it drowned him in the process. He wanted to pull Neil closer and let him taste it on his lips. 

But he didn’t. He just sat in the weight of it, and felt himself sinking.

That night, Todd dreamt of nothing at all. 

Chapter Text

The year was 1959. December 15th. 6:00 A.M. Todd Anderson was 17 years old.

December 15th. It was marked on the calendar. A Midsummer Night’s Dream opened that night. Neil Perry was wide awake, practicing his lines one final time. 

December 15th. 6:00 A.M.

Neil was alive.

Todd Anderson awoke from a dreamless night, blinking his heavy eyelids and humming from the back of his throat. As Todd’s awareness gradually returned to him, his first thought was of the night before. A night that, to Todd, had felt more like something out of his imagination than reality.

The image of Neil looking at him from across their cramped dorm room, filtered moonlight staining his skin a pale blue, seemed to have seared itself in Todd’s mind like a brand. Todd wasn’t sure what it was, but something about that moment seemed jarringly, glaringly different. Todd had been different at the very least. Something in him had shifted, something had caved and collapsed, and whatever had remained of his brick-and-mortar shelter, separating him from the world around him, was annihilated. Neil had seemed different, too, lying there, still and silent. In that moment, Neil’s characteristic gleam and sparkle had been replaced with something softer, more vulnerable. Something Todd hadn’t quite made sense of yet.

Todd rubbed his eyes, sitting up in his bed and glancing around the room, looking for Neil. Todd quickly realized, however, that the room was empty. The blankets on Neil’s bed had already been carelessly tossed aside against the wall, as Neil always left them when he left the room in the mornings. Todd felt a pang of disappointment as he stared at the empty space where Neil should have been. Though within moments, the feeling was supplemented with a slight sense of relief that he didn’t need to attempt to address whatever had happened the night before quite so soon after waking up. That was a recipe for embarrassment, Todd reasoned. 

A slip of paper on Todd’s desk caught his attention as he scanned the room. Todd rose to his feet slowly, stretching his aching shoulders, and stepped into the slippers beside his bed. He crossed the short distance to his desk, lifting the piece of paper, torn jaggedly from a notebook, and raised it to his face to make out the words in the darkness.

On a walk, don’t wait up, see you in Latin - N

Todd sighed and folded the piece of paper neatly, tucking it into his pocket. Neil’s early morning escapades were nothing new to Todd, especially not on big days. The morning of Neil’s audition at Henley Hall, he’d accidentally woken Todd up at 5:30 in the morning while he tried to quietly sneak out of the room. It helped him clear his mind, Todd figured. Though Todd would have preferred for Neil to accompany him in his morning routine, particularly given how busy Neil was bound to be for the rest of the day, Todd didn’t mind too much. Without Neil there listening in, the preparations for the celebration were in full order during breakfast. 

“We’re good to go after school, right? Neil has to go to the theater early anyway, something about doing warm-ups or cast gifts or something,” Charlie said, before leaning over and sucking orange juice through his straw like he was taking a drag from a cigarette. 

“Yes. I told Hager that we need a ride into town, and he said he’d do it,” Cameron said, his hands raised. Charlie cheered and pumped his fist, but Cameron gestured to Charlie that he wasn’t finished. “If,” Cameron began, “you make up your test from last Friday.”

“What?!” Charlie exclaimed, his mouth falling open. “Unfair!” Cameron simply shrugged, while Charlie fumed and stammered angrily about the injustice and how if he wanted to write 80085 as the answer for every question that it was within his rights. Todd laughed, idly stirring his bland oatmeal. 

“So,” Knox attempted to get Charlie’s attention. “The plan?”

“Right,” Charlie said. “We have our shopping list. What else do we need to do?” Charlie asked, his mouth full of partially chewed fruit. Knox grabbed Charlie’s lower jaw and forced his mouth shut.

“Should we get him a gift, or something?” Meeks asked. As soon as he did, Knox’s hands shot to the sides of his head, his eyes going wide.

“Shit!” Knox exclaimed, getting to his feet. Todd’s mouth fell open to ask Knox what was wrong, but Charlie beat him to it.

“What is it?” Charlie asked, standing up beside Knox like he was preparing to fight off an attacker.

“I need to find flowers for Chris! Shit, I totally forgot!” 

“Oh, come on!” Charlie said, sitting back down with a thump. “You made me think it was something serious!”

“It is serious!” Knox turned back toward Charlie. “I’m on a tight schedule! I need to get these flowers to her before second period. Mr. McAllister might forget about it if I skip but Dr. Hager damn sure won’t!” Knox was right about Hager, of course. Charlie seemed to accept that, shrugging his shoulders in reluctant agreement toward the other boys.

“Fine. It’s serious. What do you need to do?” Charlie asked, grabbing Knox’s arm to stop him from anxiously running his hands through his hair, a habit he’d picked up since he first met Chris.

“Where the hell am I supposed to find flowers in the middle of December?” Knox asked, his eyes wide.

“One block from my house,” Charlie started calmly. “The Navidsons. Mrs. Navidson has this crazy garden. Her flowers are alive all year. I don’t know how she does it,” he added.

“So, what, I’m just supposed to steal them?” Knox asked, even more anxiously.

“You can pay her off. If there’s anything Mrs. Navidson likes more than flowers, it’s money,” Charlie continued lightheartedly.

“Charlie, you know I’m broke!” Knox wailed.

“Relax, Knoxie,” Charlie said, patting Knox’s arm. “Bottom of my sock drawer. You’ll be fine.” Knox sighed with relief, awkwardly shaking Charlie by the shoulder in what must have been a gesture of gratitude.

“Oh, you’re a lifesaver!” Knox exclaimed, darting off and up the stairs with more urgency than Todd thought was necessary. The remaining boys watched him go, and Todd chuckled to himself when Knox nearly tripped on the stairs in his haste. Once Knox had left on his mission, the planning continued, and Todd couldn’t help but notice that it was a poor substitute for the morning he had hoped for, staying in bed and listening to Neil muttering his lines, his presence in the room pulling Todd toward him like gravity.

Without Neil in the room, Todd had finished his poem before coming down for breakfast, tacking a few satisfying repetitions onto the end. Finally, it was ready. Todd was quietly proud of it, he realized, as he read it again from the notebook he’d produced, before shutting the notebook and focusing on shoveling food into his mouth. It wasn’t up to the caliber of the poetry Mr. Keating had read aloud in class, certainly, but it was something. Todd indulged in imagining Neil’s excitement when Todd pulled the carefully folded paper out of his pocket at the meeting, while the others discussed the logistics of who would get to ride in Hager’s car and who would have to find their own way into town.

When Neil appeared in the dining hall, hands in his pockets, Meeks was the first to see him. Meeks indicated to the others to quit the party planning talk, and they all dutifully feigned innocence and took to rapidly eating their breakfast. The boys said their muffled greetings as Neil joined them at the table, a small smile on his face, and quickly nabbed a piece of toast from Charlie’s plate, stuffing the corner into his mouth. Charlie quickly noticed the theft, though, and pinched Neil’s arm in retribution. Neil laughed and squirmed to try to avoid Charlie’s grabbing hands, while Todd watched the two of them with a hint of a smile on his face. Before Charlie could steal it back from him, Neil scarfed the rest of the toast into his mouth, smiling in Charlie’s face with his cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk.

“We’re gonna be late for class,” Cameron characteristically interjected once Neil and Charlie had reached a truce. Todd glanced up at the clock. 7:58 A.M. Cameron was right, they were almost bound to be late unless they ran to Mr. McAllister’s class, but Todd found it to be very difficult to care as he watched Neil laugh from across the table. 

“Knox is off on his love-quest?” Neil asked once he had managed to swallow his toast, ignoring Cameron’s comment.

“He just left a few minutes ago,” Meeks explained, packing up his stuff to go to class. Neil nodded and smiled to himself. 

“Speaking of a few minutes,” Cameron insisted anxiously, drumming his foot and staring at his watch. Todd conceded, standing up and cleaning up his spot at the table. Neil did the same, and Todd trailed behind him to put his dishes in the wash bin. Neil wasn’t rushing, so naturally, Todd wasn’t rushing either, despite Cameron’s sputtering from over his shoulder. Despite his fuming, Cameron didn’t dart off to class unaccompanied. The drumming of his foot did get faster and faster, though, and the intervals between when he checked his watch shortened as Neil scraped the food off his plate. 

Once the dishes were clear, Neil started off toward Mr. McAllister’s classroom. The rest of the group took that as their cue to do the same, and quickly they had all returned to the usual huddled formation they assumed as they traversed the halls of Welton. The boys were chattering amongst themselves, and Todd attempted to chime in occasionally, but he was equally content just to listen to them speak about Knox’s potential misadventures, how excited they were for Neil’s performance, and how badly they wished they didn’t have to go to Latin. 

Todd had never expected that he’d be happy at Welton. On his first day, it had seemed like a given that he’d spend the year unable to connect with his peers, unable to raise his hand in class without shaking like a leaf, and unable to find a single place in the school where he felt at home. But, of course, the key variable that Todd hadn’t accounted for was walking two strides ahead of him, hands in his pockets. Todd couldn’t have anticipated Neil, not in a million years. Someone who’d swept him up and brought him in. At the very beginning of the year, Todd had resented Neil’s uncanny ability to read him and know exactly what to do that would convince him to give something new and terrifying a chance. But now, Todd felt nothing but swirling, suffocating gratitude. Ripples of admiration and wonder and love. Poetic, Shakespearean love, not the sad, weedy, gritty love of the past few months. 

Something that didn’t feel quite so wrong anymore.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

December 15th. 2:17 P.M. Mr. Keating’s class was less eventful than the day prior. The remaining groups who hadn’t performed their sonnets were postponed until the next class, because, as Mr. Keating said, he had a more pressing lesson for the boys that day. Todd wasn’t sure he would have described the lesson as “pressing.” The boys were listening to music from Mr. Keating’s gramophone, blindfolds over their eyes, so that they could “focus on how the music moved through them,” or something of the sort. As much as Todd enjoyed listening, he couldn’t seem to focus on the music that afternoon. All that he could seem to pay much mind to was the fact that, in a matter of hours, he’d get to see Neil on stage. In his element. Performing as a character that seemed intertwined with his soul. It felt nearly too good to be true. 

Todd lifted the corner of his blindfold, knowing how likely Keating was to notice, given Todd’s assigned seat at the front of the classroom, and glanced over at Neil. He looked peaceful, Todd thought, his hands resting comfortably on the desk, and his face relaxed. Still, in one moment when Neil could be fairly certain no one was looking at him, Todd saw something in him that seemed different. Something in his posture, the way he held his face, even the slight slouch in his back, screamed of exhaustion. Todd furrowed his brow slightly, curiosity building in him like an itch that was just out of reach. He couldn’t look for long, though, because within less than 30 seconds, Keating was crossing back toward the front of the room, and Todd had to snap his blindfold back into place.

The class went on uninterrupted, but Todd couldn’t shake his curiosity about what had been on Neil’s mind. Like the night before though, when Todd had never gotten a real answer about why Neil had been crying, or what he’d talked to Keating about, or exactly what it was that made him so desparate to stay on the roof until the middle of the night, he didn’t expect to figure it out. Despite how badly Todd wanted to, he couldn’t see past the parts of Neil that Neil allowed him to see. The rest was out of his reach. 

Of course, Todd’s curiosity may have very well been misplaced. Neil was probably nervous about the performance, especially because of the tension with his father. Even if Neil’s parents hadn’t disapproved, performing in front of hundreds of people must have been enough to put even Neil Perry a bit on edge. Even thinking about that amount of pressure made Todd nervous. Neil was different, though. Todd knew that. Todd sighed and slumped down in his seat.

By the time Todd had run out of things to think of other than the music Mr. Keating was playing, he turned his attention to the sound of the piano. Though the record sputtered occasionally, the music seemed to flow like syrup, lilting up and down cyclically and reminding Todd of a wave on the ocean. Todd listened closely for a while, attempting to shut off his imagination and simply pay attention to the notes. Just as he began to feel something, though, the distinctive sound of a needle being lifted from a record broke him out of his trance. 

Keating, to Todd’s surprise, hadn’t mentioned the show at the beginning of the class period as he had several times in the past week. It must have slipped his mind, Todd figured. Still, when the bell rang - at precisely 3:55 P.M. - and Keating hadn’t said anything, Todd did begin to wonder. That feeling was only intensified when, as the boys began to file out of the classroom, Keating approached Neil’s desk, something Todd couldn’t quite interpret lining his features. Todd lingered for a moment before Keating looked idly his way, and Todd hurried out of the room, embarrassed, as though he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. 

Todd walked out into the hallway, feeling the slight flush of warmth in his cheeks and clenching his hands into fists. As much as he knew he shouldn’t snoop, he planted himself near the doorway. He couldn’t hear anything of the conversation taking place inside the room, but he had another reason not to rush off. Between the bustle of classes and Neil’s absence that morning, Todd had hardly seen Neil at all that day. And as soon as Neil left Keating’s classroom, he’d be off to the theater, where he’d stay until late that night. As foolish as Todd knew it was to stay, if he managed to catch Neil as he left the classroom, it would give them a few more moments together. Moments that Todd couldn’t see himself giving up, not for anything. That, and it would give him a chance to wish Neil luck before his performance. Todd wanted one moment, just the two of them, before Neil got whisked away into the opening night chaos. Maybe it was selfish, but Todd couldn’t convince himself to care. As his temperance had begun to wane, his nearly physiological need to be around Neil had become a much higher priority.

Todd leaned against the wall outside the classroom door, fidgeting uncomfortably. He felt a bit ridiculous, lingering just to catch a few more minutes with Neil. But he didn’t feel quite ridiculous enough to walk away, not quite so soon. Footsteps drummed quickly against the ceiling above him, which should have been reminding him that he was meant to be going somewhere, but instead reminded him of rain against the tin roof of the shed in his backyard. Todd liked listening to the rain. It was almost as soothing as playing the piano. On many rainy days, Todd had staked out in the tool shed, lying flat on his back against the sawdust-covered concrete and listening.

Todd remembered one such day, a day he’d spent trying to quiet down his head with the oppressive pattering of the rain. A particularly bad weekend away from Balincrest, back when he was in 9th grade, after he’d asked to switch seats in chemistry class to get further away from Ben Jameson. Ben Jameson, who had made Todd’s heart flutter like a butterfly’s wing when he flashed a casual smile Todd’s way. Ben Jameson, whose freckles and long eyelashes seemed to be what Todd associated with chemistry class, much more so than the drone of Mr. Denton describing molecular bonds. That was, until Todd stutteringly asked his teacher to be moved to a different seat, to work with a different lab partner, and Ben’s casual smiles were replaced with confused glares. Whether he suspected the true reasons of Todd’s request, or just thought Todd had secretly despised him for the whole semester and simply couldn’t take it anymore, Todd wasn’t sure, but either way, Todd spent the drive home staring out the window and evaluating the high probability that Ben would never talk to him again.

It seemed fitting to Todd, at the time, that it was raining that weekend. He had brought a blanket with him into the tool shed, wrapped himself up into a cocoon, and listened to the pattering of rain against the metal. But listening, the one comfort that Todd had when the inside of his head got too loud, had proven to be insufficient. Todd was relieved that the rain muffled the sound of his heaving sobs as he buried his face into his blanket, too distressed even to pray, and tried to comprehend why he was feeling such absurd, nonsensical things. Tried to comprehend why sitting near Ben had made him so afraid and why, still, he wished he could’ve stayed at his side. Tried to comprehend why he wished Ben was with him right then, sitting at his side in the dingy, waterlogged toolshed.

Todd briefly wondered if waiting for Neil was a bad idea.

But as soon as he did, Neil appeared through the doorway, his arms held tightly at his sides. Todd immediately assumed that he and Mr. Keating might have been talking about something a bit more significant than English assignments. He took a step toward Neil, opening his mouth to speak, to attempt to offer some reassurance, and feeling his face tense in anxious anticipation. But as soon as Neil noticed Todd, his demeanor changed. His face relaxed, his shoulders dropped, and his eyes softened. Todd shut his mouth and pursed his lips, unsure what to make of it.

“Hi!” Neil said, eyebrows raising in surprise.

“Hey,” Todd said, blushing and looking at Neil, wide-eyed.

“Were you waiting?” Neil asked, turning on his heel to face Todd. Todd opened his mouth, considering whether to make up some excuse or admit the truth. As usual, his instinct was to rely on a comfortable lie. But this wasn’t 9th-grade chemistry class. Todd wasn’t hiding away in his tool shed or moving away from Neil one desk at a time. He had decided to stay for a reason, so against his instincts, he reluctantly opted for the vulnerable.

“Um. Yeah, I was. I, uh, wanted to say good luck before you leave,” Todd wrung his hands together, drawing his lips into a line once he’d finished speaking. Neil smiled from the corner of his mouth, tilting back and forth on the soles of his shoes. Whatever may have been bothering him a moment ago, there was certainly no sign of it now. Todd wasn’t sure if he should’ve been reassured by that, but he nonetheless found himself relaxing a bit.

“Aw, shucks. Thank you, Whitman,” Neil replied. He paused a moment, considering, then continued. “Actually, I hear you’re not supposed to say ‘good luck’ for the theatre,” Neil said. “You’re supposed to say ‘break a leg.’ At least, that’s what the theatre veterans over there have been telling me.” Todd winced at his minor faux pas, despite the fact that he had no way of knowing the slang of the theater, having never been in a production himself.

“Oh, sorry. B-break a leg, then,” Todd replied nervously. Neil smiled wider.

“That’s okay! It’s kind of weird, but I guess I like weird theatre stuff now,” Neil said, a fond tone in his voice. Todd smiled, following Neil as he started walking, hands in his pockets. Todd wanted to hear more about the “weird theatre stuff” Neil was learning about. He wanted to hear more about Neil, more about what he thought, what he felt, everything that he was when no one was watching. He wanted to understand Neil, to wrap his head around the complexity of him and appreciate all of it. To love him, not from afar, but from the claustrophobic closeness of knowing someone as you know yourself. He wanted, more than anything, to love Neil up close. 

Consciously, conscientiously, concretely, constructively. 

The words from the poem Neil had read several Dead Poets meetings ago rang out in Todd’s head. He felt them reverberating inside of him, like a mantra he wished he could fulfill.

Todd’s life had become a kaleidoscope of Neil, and he wanted more than anything to see the image clearly.

“You’re heading to the theater?” Todd asked, mirroring Neil and putting his hands into his pockets, ignoring the childish, nagging desire to grab onto Neil’s sleeve or his hand, to link himself to him in some way. 

“Yeah,” Neil said plainly, “Hager’s waiting for me in the car right now, actually.”

“Oh,” Todd blurted, embarrassed at having interrupted Neil’s departure. “I’ll let you go then,” he continued, feeling satisfied with the fact that they’d had a moment together before Neil left, brief as it was.

“Eh, Hager’s fine. I’m not scared of him,” Neil joked, leaning in like he was telling Todd a secret. Todd smiled back at him, certain that the look in his eyes was steeped with undeniable adoration, but not particularly invested in doing anything to fight it. 

“You’re not scared of anything,” Todd pointed out. “Even falling off of roofs.” 

“Shouldn’t it be ‘rooves?’” Neil teased, a shit-eating grin on his face. Todd rolled his eyes.

“Shut up,” he retorted, turning away from Neil, but unable to keep himself from smiling. Neil obediently put his hand up to his mouth and mimed locking his lips shut with a key, the small smirk on his face selling the pantomime slightly short. The two of them walked in silence for a moment, meandering towards the back doors side by side. Soon, Neil stopped, getting Todd’s attention and gesturing toward his locked mouth with a sense of urgency. Todd sighed affectionately before he reached out and pretended to unlock Neil’s lips, which he had pursed into a thin line. As soon as he did, Neil beamed at him, but only for a moment before he began to speak.

“Come find me, okay?” Neil asked, his smile transitioning into something more serious.

“What?” Todd asked, his brow furrowing.

“After the show. Come find me. I’ll wait for you,” Neil explained, his tone sweet and sincere and saturated with warmth and something Todd could only describe as Neil-ness. Todd felt himself getting several degrees warmer. Out of everyone, Neil wanted Todd to come find him. Neil would wait for him.

“Oh. Okay. I will.” Todd clasped his hands tightly in front of himself, longing for the reassuring pressure of his own grip as he seemed to begin to float, weightless, untethered to the Earth.

“Okay. Good. I’ll see you then, alright?” Neil said, starting to back up toward the door as he spoke, a sudden sense of urgency descending on him as two loud honks blared from the other side of the doorway. 

“Yeah,” Todd breathed, too quietly for Neil to hear. He watched Neil turn to go, a skip in his step as he darted toward the doors. 

Todd wasn’t sure what came over him as he watched Neil leaving. It was something foreign, something he had only felt a handful of times throughout his life. A sudden burst of courage. Determination to speak. The feeling he had when Mr. Keating spun him around in front of the classroom, forcing poetry out of him like he was squeezing a lemon into a cup of steaming tea. Todd inhaled sharply, and somewhere inside of him, the air in his lungs seemed to take on a new shape, sculpted by the emotions that had saturated every tissue in his body, and morphed into words.

“Neil, wait-” he called out, taking a step forward.

Neil turned around, his eyebrows raised and a half-smile on his face. His hair was slightly ruffled, and the sunlight was casting a golden halo around his silhouette, the shadow of his browbone obscuring the rich brown of his eyes. Neil was more than four yards away from Todd, but still Todd felt like he just reached for him, he could’ve run a hand through his hair, or traced his fingertips from his brow down to his jaw. He took another half-step forward, tentatively, like he was in danger of stepping off a ledge and falling to his doom.

“I-” Todd started. He could practically feel the wind rushing around him and waited for the crushing of his bones against the ground. “Neil, I-”

“What is it?” Neil asked, his head moving slightly as he spoke and shifting the golden halo around his head. 

It would have been so easy. Todd could’ve finished his sentence in the time it took to snap his fingers. But just as suddenly as the burst of courage had overtaken him, Todd felt a simple truth wash over him, a two-word command ringing in his ears. 

Not now.

Neil continued looking at him, waiting to hear what Todd had to say. Todd felt his chest burning, and he felt certain that, in that moment, he could’ve screamed the word love hundreds of times without it producing the heat that burned inside of him. But as he looked at Neil’s wide eyes, gold spilling around his form like he was encased in amber, his decision repeated in his mind. 

Not now. Not yet. 

Todd smiled. 

“Nothing.” 

Todd's voice was soft. He felt like he was hearing the word come out of someone else’s mouth rather than his own, like he was inside a dream. Neil’s eyebrow quirked upward, his mouth tugging into a smirk. His legs were still turned away, frozen in the state of leaving. 

“Nothing?” Neil asked, his smile widening, the edge of a laugh in his voice. And in Neil’s face, there was so much. So much life, so much that Todd didn’t know, so much that he couldn’t see. Full to capacity, bursting at the seams, with the vastness of everything .

“Nothing,” Todd repeated, his heart fluttering in his chest, and something light and airy and somewhat like hope taking root inside of him. He wondered, for less than a second, if when Neil said nothing when he and Todd were watching the sunrise, he’d really meant everything , too.

“Okay.” Neil nodded in agreement. “Nothing.” Neil beamed at him. The two looked at each other for a beat longer, before Neil turned back toward the door again and began walking away. 

Before he made it to the exit, though, Neil turned back one more time, spinning on his heel and taking a few more steps backward as he called out in Todd’s direction. 

“Find me, okay?” he repeated, before throwing the door open and disappearing to the other side.

“I will.” Todd’s voice tapered off as he replied into the empty room. It felt a bit like a vow as it left his lips. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

December 15th. 4:28 P.M. 

The car ride into town went off surprisingly easily. After they had finished what constituted as either a very late lunch or a very early dinner, the other boys fortunately not commenting on the small smile that Todd couldn’t wipe from his face for the entire afternoon, they made their way to the doorways where Hager had promised to meet them. Knox, still giddy about his confession to Chris, had agreed to take a bike into town to make room in Hager’s car. That was, as long as one other person biked with him. Knox was bound to talk the unlucky sacrifice’s ear off about Chris, Todd was certain, so he stood with his hands in his pockets until Meeks begrudgingly volunteered. It wasn’t far, anyway. Meeks would survive twenty minutes of Chris-talk.

Todd, Charlie, Pitts, and Cameron were mostly quiet during the ride over, unable to discuss what they were going to buy without alerting Hager to their rule-breaking or the location of their secret hideout. Instead, to fill the silence, Hager had taken to vaguely and passive-aggressively chronicling the importance of understanding mathematics for anyone who intended to make it anywhere in the world. Charlie, from the back seat, had been mouthing his disapproval and miming throwing up every time Hager said his name, which had resulted in stifled laughter from Pitts and a scornful eye-roll from Cameron. Todd, not eager to draw any attention to himself, was staring at his scuffed leather shoes, tapping the toes together noiselessly. 

When the car pulled over on a street corner that had become familiar to Todd over the past few months of weekend trips to town, Charlie was the first to get out of the car. Todd followed closely behind. 

“So,” Todd prompted, watching as Charlie offered a hand to Pitts to help maneuver his lanky form out of the squat car. Cameron was looking up and down the street, craning his neck. Todd figured he was looking for Knox and Meeks, though they would certainly be another 15 minutes at the least. Cameron, despite his bookishness, struck Todd as someone whose impatience had the upper hand on his common sense. “Do we wait here?” Todd finished, once Cameron had stopped the swiveling of his head and looked Todd in the eye. 

“I figure that’d be best,” Pitts answered, stuffing his hands in his pockets. They’d gotten lucky, Todd realized, that their expedition hadn’t coincided with a snowstorm. As hard as it was to bicycle through the muddy slush that was characteristic of Vermont in December, biking through snow would’ve been bordering on impossible. They could’ve made the trip without all six of them, Todd thought, but he knew that never would’ve been accepted. He admired that about the group of boys that had swept him up into their ranks. They never left anyone behind.

The four waited in silence for half a minute before Charlie piped up, steam rising from his lips.

“Couldn’t we at least wait inside? I’m freezing my dick off,” he complained, shifting his weight from foot to foot in what must have been an attempt to keep himself warm.

“Oh, good!” Cameron interjected snarkily. “Maybe once it’s gone, you’ll finally start thinking with your brain instead!” Pitts and Todd chuckled as quietly as they could manage, while Charlie’s jaw fell open in a mixture of anger and disbelief. He decisively took a step toward Cameron, reaching down toward the half-melted pile of snow near his feet and grabbing a handful. 

“You little-” Charlie started, raising his fistful of muddy slush to the level of Cameron’s flat-top. Cameron yelped, closing his eyes and trying to duck away from Charlie’s outstretched hand.

“Guys!” Pitts interrupted, grabbing Charlie by the wrist. The slush in Charlie’s hand fell to the ground with a disappointing plop. 

“Fine,” Charlie agreed, wiping his wet palm against his pants. Cameron sighed with relief, putting his hands on his knees like he’d just run a marathon and was struggling to catch his breath. He and Charlie exchanged contentious looks, but once they’d given each other the sign that neither of them was surrendering any ground in their ongoing feud, they both relaxed.

“Charlie’s right. We could wait inside. Look-” Pitts gestured toward the nearest building, a store with the cursive words “Better Bloom” painted above the doorway, which Todd assumed must have been a florist’s shop. The windows were emanating an enticing golden light, which collectively piqued the boys’ interest, all eager to escape the chill of the outside air. Buckets filled with bouquets of flowers sat inside the windowsills, the bright colors only adding to the building’s allure. Pitts continued. “The windows are massive. We’ll be able to see when they get here.”

No one seemed to have an adequate reason to refuse, so the group made their way through the hand-painted doors. A bell above the doorway jingled pleasantly as they did. The inside of the flower shop was more colorful than anything you could find at Welton, Todd noticed immediately. Plants hung from the ceiling in wicker planters, flowers adorned every surface in the small building, and Todd nearly bumped into a rack of seed packets that stood near the doorway as he walked in. The room smelled heavenly, like a mixture of sweet nectar and fresh-cut grass. Todd inhaled deeply, closing his eyes and letting the fragrance consume his other senses. 

A middle-aged woman with her hair tied up smartly stood behind the front desk, and looked up from the bouquet she was wrapping to greet the boys as they entered. 

“Welcome in, gentlemen!” she chirped, her voice similar in cadence, though diametrically different in tone, to Todd’s mother’s. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

Charlie, ever the conversationalist, went up to her and began to talk about why they were in town and why they had come in. Todd faintly noticed Charlie introducing all of them by name, which Todd thought seemed unnecessary, and looked up to timidly wave at the woman when he heard Charlie call out the name “Toddsie Anderson.” Todd was hardly paying enough mind to Charlie’s conversation to even be embarrassed by the demeaning nickname, as he walked closer to the display set up inside the window. He wanted to get a better look at the bouquets that had caught his eye from the street. One in particular stood out to him among the rest. Red roses and sunset orange tulips paired with tiny white flowers Todd didn’t recognize, with light blue bulbs adorning the bouquet’s edges. Todd admired it, bending down to get a better look. 

“Whatcha looking at?” Cameron appeared out of nowhere over Todd’s shoulder, making Todd’s breath catch. 

“Oh-” Todd startled, feeling suddenly embarrassed, like he’d been caught in the act of something he wasn’t meant to do. “N-nothing.”

“You a big flower guy?” Cameron asked. Todd straightened up, crossing his arms across his chest defensively. Though Cameron’s tone sounded no more snarky than normal, Todd couldn’t help but feel that he was being mocked.

“No,” Todd said, not meeting Cameron’s eye. He wasn’t lying, he really didn’t know anything about flowers, but he was sure his nervousness wouldn’t escape Cameron’s notice.

“Relax, man. I’m not judging you or anything,” Cameron said, putting his hands up and smirking in a way that made Todd feel even more embarrassed, all teeth and gum.

“Yeah,” Todd replied dumbly. “I know.” Though he couldn’t be completely sure with Cameron. Todd didn’t allow himself to look back at the bouquet, despite how much he wanted to. 

“Guys!” Charlie called out. “Guess what? Elise over here knows Cameron’s parents!” The woman, Elise, nodded in Cameron’s direction, a soft smile on her face. Charlie beckoned Cameron over to discuss this newfound common ground that he had discovered between himself and this stranger, something that Charlie had always excelled at finding. 

“Oh, really?” Cameron asked as he walked over uncertainly, rubbing the back of his neck. Elise responded that she had met them in high school, telling some anecdote about Cameron’s father winning “most neurotic” as his yearbook superlative, but Todd tuned out of the conversation before he could hear how Cameron responded. He was thinking about Knox’s confession to Chris, something he’d mustered up the courage to do even though Chris was decidedly unavailable. And with someone like Chet Danburry standing between Knox and any chance at winning Chris’s heart, it seemed that any confession of love would be completely futile. All Knox had to say for his attempts to woo Chris thus far was one phone call with her and a nearly broken nose from Chet. Still, Todd couldn’t help but picture the relief on Knox’s face when he bounded through the doors, back into the oppressive walls of Welton. 

“What’d she say?” Pitts had asked, eyes wide with curiosity. 

“Nothing,” Knox had answered, beaming even wider. Todd remembered the exact tone of Knox’s voice as he called out, “Nothing. But I did it! Seize the day!” Even just confessing to her had been a victory. Todd couldn’t help but long for that feeling. For the feeling of complete liberty that would consume him once Neil knew. Once everyone knew. But, of course, that relief would be washed away by terror within a matter of seconds. Terror that far exceeded the simple terror of rejection. Todd stole one glance back at the bouquet of flowers and wondered for a fleeting moment if it might be worth it anyway.

Todd’s ruminating was interrupted when the sound of muffled chatter floated in from in front of the flower shop’s door. The bell above the door jingled, and as the door swung open, it revealed Knox standing on the other side, a wide smile on his face. Meeks followed closely behind, his expression much more weary. It wasn’t hard to infer that the two had been discussing Chris for the length of their trip. Todd felt a pang of envy that Knox could talk about his feelings for Chris with anyone who would listen, but when Todd tried to speak to Mr. Keating about his own feelings, he couldn’t manage more than 10 minutes before he was puking his guts out in the snow. Todd dismissed the thought with a shake of his head.

“Hi!” Knox cheered, not stepping beyond the welcome mat. His face was flushed from exertion and the chill, but as he gingerly unwrapped the scarf from around his neck and jaw, he seemed completely unbothered by both. 

“You made it!” Pitts replied, looking to Meeks rather than Knox. Meeks smiled at Pitts, raising his eyebrows and shaking his head in a way that Todd ascertained must’ve meant that he had quite a few stories to tell from their journey over. Charlie said his goodbyes to Elise and marched over to the door, crossing through the doorway out onto the sidewalk. Pitts was quick to follow, glancing back toward Todd and Cameron to make sure they were making their way over. Todd felt a strange pang of regret at leaving the shop, though he couldn’t place precisely why. He offered a nervous “thank you” to Elise as he followed Cameron through the door, feeling strangely comforted by the sincerity of her smile as she said, “Come back any time, Todd.”

The boys walked briskly down the town boulevard, Charlie leading the pack with a list in his hand. Todd may not have been in the loop about everything that this outing entailed, but he was alright to simply be along for the ride. Once they’d been walking straight for several consecutive blocks, Charlie stopped suddenly in the middle of the sidewalk before making a sharp turn to the right and resuming his brisk pace, tucking his folded list back into his pocket. Todd put his hands in his pockets to ward off the chill, but he nonetheless had to clench his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. Todd thought back to Neil offering him his jacket the night before, when the pair snuck out onto the roof, and concluded with certainty that Neil would’ve done the same again if he were here. That was his way.

“Okay,” Charlie announced brightly. “First stop, the convenience store.”

The boys filed in through the small door, ducking to avoid the merchandise hanging precariously over the doorway. A man with a gruff voice greeted them, and his voice continued droning on as he spoke into the telephone while the boys shopped. Charlie, unlike Todd had always been taught to do, barely even consulted the price tags on products before throwing them into his bag. It wasn’t Charlie’s fault that his parents were so wealthy, of course, but Todd couldn’t help but feel the divide between his upbringing and Charlie’s as Charlie scooped piles of Satellite Wafers and Bit-O-Honeys into the growing stack perched in Knox’s arms.

The boys walked out of the store with bags full of candy, cigarettes, strawberries, and a large “happy birthday” banner that Charlie had big plans of repurposing. The one thing that the boys hadn’t found, which Charlie insisted was a necessity, was a cake. Fortunately, Knox had confidently announced that he had been to a bakery in town before, and had taken the lead as the boys marched uncertainly in his wake, looping back in the general direction of the corner where Hager had dropped them off.

Todd’s heart wasn’t in the task of finding a cake, though. All he could think of was that bouquet of sunset colored flowers. He wasn’t sure why he was so hung up on them. He didn’t have any use for flowers. But he couldn’t seem to rid his mind of their vibrant hues nearly as easily as he could rationalize that he didn’t need them.

The troupe of boys kept walking. When they passed by a familiar set of glowing windows, Todd couldn’t resist the impulse any longer. 

“Uh- guys, can I meet up with you in a few minutes?” Todd asked, weaving his fingers together anxiously. He was going to go back for those flowers. 

“Um, sure?” Knox questioned, pivoting on his heel to face the back of the group. “Why?” 

“Oh, uh…” Todd started, suddenly realizing that he didn’t have an answer for that question even for himself. “I just- I want to grab something for the party,” Todd attempted, looking down at the sidewalk.

“Oh! What is it?” Pitts asked. The whole group had come to a stop now, and all of them were looking at Todd. Todd tried to swallow down the lump forming in his throat.

“W-well… um…” Todd started, feeling sweat budding on the back of his neck. He looked around from face to face, hoping someone would say something that would save him from the embarrassment of admitting why he wanted to split off from the group. Surprisingly, Charlie Dalton was the one to come to his rescue.

“Hey, man, don’t sweat it. We’ll meet up with you at the stop sign, okay? 5:45. Don’t be late or Hager’s gonna leave you behind,” Charlie joked good-naturedly. Todd felt his chest swell with gratitude, wondering if Charlie’s role as Neil’s best friend meant he’d picked up some portion of Neil’s sense for when Todd simply couldn’t handle any more direct attention from the group.

“Right. Okay,” Todd muttered in response, nodding to himself.

“C’mon, fellas,” Charlie said, gesturing for the others to follow him as he took off down the street. Todd watched them walk away, flinching when he accidentally made eye contact with Meeks as he looked back in Todd’s direction. Once the group had turned the nearest corner, Todd cautiously approached the door of Better Bloom, his hand subconsciously finding the small wad of money he’d stuffed into his pocket before the boys had set off into town. 

It took him a while to even dare to approach the door. Todd knew he was blowing this small action out of proportion and finding a way to worry about nothing again, but knowing that didn’t make him any less anxious. Once enough time had passed that the thought of standing, staring at the building from the street for any longer seemed just as embarrassing as actually going inside, Todd took a deep breath, and forced himself to march up to the door.

Todd winced at the jingle of the bell as he creaked open the door, hoping that if he’d opened it gently enough, he’d be able to sneak in without drawing too much attention to himself. That clearly hadn’t worked, though, because as soon as the bell chimed, the shopkeeper, Elise, looked up at him.

“Welcome! I thought you might come back.” Her friendly voice chirped from behind the counter. Todd wasn’t sure what to make of her comment, so he chose to ignore it. He met her eye, putting on a practiced smile that his parents demanded from him at prestigious dinner parties or social gatherings. 

“Thank you, ma’am,” he replied robotically. Todd drew his lips into a tight smile before ducking his head, hoping to indicate that he wasn’t the type to make small talk. His eyes wandered back toward the bouquet. Todd walked towards the window, cautiously picking up the bouquet and turning it over in his hands. The flowers, their vibrance making them stand out from everything in their vicinity, were perfect. 

Perfect for Neil.

Todd inhaled sharply as he realized exactly why he had wanted the flowers in the first place. Why he had come back for them. It seemed abundantly clear, as Todd’s eyes traveled from flower to flower. He felt his chest tighten.

“Those tulips sure are something, don’t you think?” Elise asked, snapping Todd out of his trance.

“Oh,” Todd replied uneasily. “Yes. It’s- uh- it’s a beautiful bouquet.” 

“Thank you! I arranged it myself,” Elise continued, an inviting smile stretched across her face. Todd smiled back and nodded in lieu of a complete response, looking back down at the flowers. As he did, Todd remembered that he hadn’t heard from Knox about his mission as a first-time flower burglar. Imagining Knox attempting to exchange whatever wad of money he’d retrieved from Charlie’s dresser for hastily picked flowers from a woman’s garden made Todd temporarily forget about the issue at hand. The flowers.

Todd wasn’t sure how Neil would react to receiving such a gift, or even if flowers were a normal gift to receive after performances. Todd might have been violating a social code by even bringing a bouquet into the theater. He bit his lip anxiously, fussing it back and forth between his teeth.

“Is there anything else you’d like me to show you? I have other bouquets like that one in the back,” Elise called out, likely uncertain how to react to Todd’s unmoving posture as he stared at the flowers. Todd looked up, shaking his head slightly to clear his thoughts.

“Oh, um, I’m a-alright. I like-” Todd cut himself off. “This one is good.”

“Suit yourself,” Elise replied with a smile. Todd decided he’d better pay for the flowers and get out, before this kind woman started to wonder if he was mentally derranged. He reluctantly walked toward the front register, avoiding eye contact with Elise as she watched him approach.

“Will this be all for you today?” She asked. Todd nodded automatically as he began to worry about the logistics of getting these flowers back to Welton without the others seeing them. But it was too late for him to back out of buying them now, so he merely grimaced and reached into his pocket to produce the money.

“Alright,” Elise continued. “That’ll be two dollars and ten cents.” Todd looked down at the money in his hand, counting out the proper amount to give to Elise. As he lifted his left hand to rifle through the money, he realized he was still gripping onto the bouquet. He stiffly placed the bouquet down on the counter, looking away as Elise smiled at him. Todd handed her the money, watching anxiously as she counted it herself and hoping he hadn’t made a mistake in his addition of the quarters and dimes. 

“These flowers,” Elise asked as she placed the money into the register and closed the drawer with a satisfying ding. “Are they for a special someone?” Her expression reminded Todd again of a mother, eagerly asking her children about the private aspects of their romantic lives. Todd felt his insides churn at her question, the same way they always had when his own mother had asked Jefferey similar questions practically every other week. Todd had dreaded when she would begin doing that to him, but she never really had. At least, not the way she did with Jefferey. 

Todd wasn’t eager to explain to Elise, who had been so kind to him, that the bouquet was not for a special someone, but for his friend. His friend, who was likely to look at it the same way Cameron had earlier that day. That was, if Todd even had the courage to hand them to him in the first place. 

For a moment, Todd considered the possibility of making up a story, anything that would get him out of the conversation as fast as possible. But as he turned the question over in his mind, he felt another inexplicable wave of confidence wash over him, the same kind that had overtaken him while Neil turned to leave for the theater.

“Yeah. They are,” he replied, managing to look Elise in the eye while he did. Whatever Neil was to him, it was undeniable that, if nothing else, Neil was special. No one in Todd’s life had ever been more special. More important. Something inside Todd lit up as he let such a naively optimistic hope out into the world, like he’d just made a wish on a dandelion.

“How lovely! You know, I figured they must’ve been. Earlier, you were eyeing them for so long, I knew you must’ve left them behind because you didn’t want your friends to know,” Elise said, tapping the side of her nose and smiling like she’d uncovered a secret. Todd felt slightly uneasy at this stranger’s ability to perceive something he’d meant to keep quiet. He hadn’t bought them before for the exact reason she’d thought, whether or not he’d even known it himself.

“Yup,” Todd exhaled, pursing his lips, but still meeting Elise’s eye. He reached for the flowers, which Elise had packaged up neatly in a paper sack, and turned toward the door. “Well, thank y-” he started, before Elise cut him off.

“You don’t need to be afraid,” she said. Todd turned back to face her, fear settling over him and chilling him to the bone.

“What?” 

“The flowers. You’re afraid of giving them to this person, aren’t you?” Todd’s jaw slackened in confusion as he tried to process how she could have inferred that from his mannerisms at her checkout counter. 

“I-” Todd started, sputtering.

“I apologize. That was too forward. All I meant was that many boys your age are afraid of being vulnerable. So many boys come into this shop shaking like a wet kitten. But it is a good thing to show someone you care, no matter what comes of it.” Elise winked kindly. Todd’s brow was still pinched up in confusion.

“Oh,” Todd said for what felt like the fifteenth time. He forced himself to smile at Elise, ignoring the churning feeling inside of him. “Um. Thank you.”

“Good luck, Todd,” Elise replied, waving as Todd turned to walk away. Todd wasn’t sure how to feel as he walked through the doorway, ignoring the jingle as the door closed behind him. All he could think was that Elise seemed quite a lot like Mr. Keating. Simultaneously able to make Todd feel emboldened and exposed in the same instance. Maybe the two had to go together, Todd thought. Maybe true fortitude existed only in the vulnerable. 

He looked at the paper bag in his hand, turning it over. On the back, lines of black ink caught his eye, and he rotated the paper further to reveal neat cursive lettering. Go for it! 

Todd stared at the note for a while before turning the bouquet back over. He sighed deeply and took off his jacket, wrapping it around the bouquet as tightly as he could to make it look somewhat convincing that the bundle only contained the thick fabric, and that nothing was concealed within it. He walked the rest of the distance toward the stop sign where Hager was meant to pick them up, looking at his watch to confirm that he hadn’t already missed his ride. 

5:39 P.M. 

Todd still had a few minutes before Hager would be there. The man, though never late, was rarely early. Todd allowed his mind to drift into comfortable blankness as he stared at the pavement beneath his feet, until Charlie’s loud laugh, echoing from down the street, brought him back to his senses. The boys appeared in a cluster from around the corner, chattering jovially amongst themselves. With Neil’s show coming up, everyone seemed to be in higher spirits than normal. Todd quickly adjusted the positioning of the bundle in his arms, tucking it in a way that he hoped looked casual between his forearm and his hip.

“Hey!” Charlie called out when he saw Todd. Todd waved back at him with the arm that wasn’t occupied by pinning the bouquet against his side. The group sped up to approach Todd, all slowing down once they’d reached the stop sign.

“Hi,” Todd replied once the group had crossed the distance between them, not eager to yell.

“So,” Pitts asked, drawing out the word. “What’d you buy?” Todd inhaled through his nose, forcing himself to hold Pitts’ gaze. 

“Um, nothing, actually,” Todd said, willing himself not to stutter. Despite Todd’s new theory about fortitude, he wanted to reserve whatever amount he had of it for Neil. “I changed my mind,” he explained, shrugging his shoulders in a way that he hoped looked natural.

“Don’t be fooled,” Charlie proclaimed. Todd felt his chest tighten as he braced himself for what Charlie might say next. “The young Anderson here did not ‘change his mind.’” Charlie put air quotes around the last sentence. Todd was actually a few months older than Charlie, but he didn’t bother mentioning that. “He just wanted to get away from our ugly mugs for a few minutes. Isn’t that right?” 

Whether Charlie was intentionally helping him out or not, Todd wasn’t sure, but he eagerly seized the opportunity to redirect the group’s attention. He shrugged and smiled subtly, putting his free hand up like he’d been caught. That earned a few laughs and a few good-natured smacks on the sides from the others, which Todd tried to dodge without dropping his contraband package. Hager arrived while the boys were laughing at an alternate version of the past few months that Charlie was describing in depth, using his most exaggerated narrator voice, wherein Todd had secretly been a spy hiding out inside of the Dead Poets Society, just waiting for his opportunity to undermine them all. Even Todd had gotten into it, adding in details about his nefarious scheme, and soaking up the sound of the others laughing. 

December 15th. 5:45 P.M. Todd managed to drop his bouquet and coat into Hager’s trunk, along with the other grocery bags, undetected. The boys got into the car and fastened their seatbelts, still laughing and nudging each other playfully as the car accelerated and the motor thundered, bringing the nearly giddy group back to Welton. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

December 15th. 6:31 P.M. 

Todd combed his hair back for what must have been the dozenth time, a mixture of excitement and nervousness rolling in the pit of his stomach. He looked ridiculous, he was sure, but he couldn’t help but smile at his own reflection as exhilaration seemed to drown out every other emotion inside him. It was bizarre, Todd realized, to finally reach the moment that had seemed so elusive for so long. He wondered if Neil was feeling the same way. Maybe he was backstage, pacing back and forth and muttering his lines to himself and drumming his fingers together rapidly. Or maybe he was relaxing in a lounge with the rest of his castmates, laughing and telling jokes and managing to charm them all effortlessly. But no matter what Neil was doing, in 29 minutes he would be stepping out onto that stage, and Todd would be right there watching. 

Todd had to look away from the mirror. Looking at his own smile was starting to make him feel foolish. As soon as he did, he had to turn more sharply over his shoulder as a towel soared past him, hearing Cameron call out a sharp “watch it!” as it collided with the back of his head. Todd laughed to himself, before briefly looking back into the mirror to smooth down his sports coat. Cameron walked toward the mirror and began combing his hair, the expression on his face so absurdly focused and intense that Todd couldn’t resist the impulse to ruffle it, laughing as Cameron spun around to chastise him. 

Todd called out to Charlie, who had been hiding out inside of a stall for the last 10 minutes. When Charlie finally emerged, a red lightning bolt drawn across the entirety of his chest, which he claimed would drive the ladies crazy, Todd couldn’t help but beam at his friend, even as he rolled his eyes.

With the whole group finally ready for departure, Todd excused himself to make a quick exit to his room. No one had paid much mind to it, they were all so wrapped up in their excitement about the show that his momentary disappearance struck them as of little importance. 

Once Todd finally closed the door to his dorm room behind him, he let out a breath he’d been holding as he crept through the halls. As soon as he lifted his head, the reason for his trip back to his room was looking him right in the face. The flowers sat unassumingly on the top of Todd’s dresser, the brown paper packaging now damp and crumpled from the car ride back to Welton. The package looked surprisingly unremarkable, especially given how much importance Todd had assigned to its contents in his head. He walked toward the dresser, slowly, like he was trying to avoid waking a sleeping predator, and carefully picked up the parcel. Removing the paper was more difficult than Todd anticipated, with several layers carefully wrapped around the stems and tied off with a piece of twine above the flowers. He gave up on removing the paper carefully and tore through it, the sound of ripping reminding him of Mr. Keating’s first instruction to rip the introductions from their Pritchard textbooks. As Todd tore the flowers free, a scrap of the paper fluttered to the ground, landing face up on the wooden floor. Elise’s note, somehow perfectly preserved in one piece despite Todd’s tearing.

Todd inhaled sharply as he read the cursive scrawl again and decisively kicked the scrap underneath his bed.

Todd stared at the now uncovered bouquet of flowers in his hands, the bright colors that had seemed enticing before suddenly seeming garish and over the top. He shook his head to himself, bringing his free hand up to his face to massage the bridge of his nose. Todd turned the bouquet over, and gasped quietly when an untrimmed thorn pricked his palm. Blood rose to the surface of his skin. Todd inspected the wound, bringing it up to his mouth and sucking the blood away. Gather ye rosebuds while you may, Mr. Keating had repeated when Todd accidentally confessed to him about Neil. Todd stared at his palm. Within seconds, blood was seeping from the wound again, a red dewdrop held in his hand. 

Before he had time to second-guess his decision, he set the bouquet back down on his dresser and turned back toward the door. The thought of having to take it with him in the car to the show, of having to stuff it under the chair in front of him in the theater, of awkwardly producing the probably-destroyed flowers and giving them to Neil in front of all of their friends, made Todd feel queasy. The flowers would still be here when he and Neil came back to their room after the meeting. If it seemed right, Todd could always give them to him then. That would be better, anyway. Without the prying eyes of any of their friends who had the tendency to turn everything into a joke. That would be better, Todd decided. He sighed and hurried out of his room before he could give it more thought, grabbing his jacket, which had absorbed the slight smell of wet butcher’s paper, on the way out. 

If he said something to Neil, a decision that Todd still wasn’t completely sure he had made, he wanted to do it properly. The way that Knox would. Confidently, decisively. With fortitude. Not with half-wilted flowers and shaking hands. 

Todd met up with the other boys in Welton’s entrance foyer, his uncertainty about the flowers and about his dubious plans quickly fading away as he was swept back up into the opening night excitement. Todd checked his watch again. 6:39 P.M. They’d be late if they didn’t get going. But just as the boys started making their way to the doorway, Cameron stopped, turning his head sharply like he’d just witnessed a fight breaking out. In reality, the thing that caught Cameron’s eye was even more novel in the halls of Welton. A beautiful girl, her platinum blonde hair tousled and her coat covered in heavy snowflakes. Within a matter of seconds, all the boys had frozen in place, staring, transfixed. Even Todd was captivated, it wasn’t often that he saw girls his own age, aside from family friends that he occasionally caught up with at dinner parties. 

From the sound of Knox’s nervous gulp, it didn’t take long for Todd to assign a name to the face. Chris Noel. Here, at Welton, looking around nervously like she wasn’t sure if she’d be kicked out or welcomed in. Seconds later, Knox confirmed Todd’s assumption about the girl’s identity. 

“Chris,” he breathed, saying her name like it was a prayer. He walked forward, gesturing with his eyes back at the group of boys to move along. They all lingered for a moment longer, wanting to watch how the interaction would play out, before Mr. Keating called out to them to join him in the car. Todd waited to follow the voice, looking to Knox for confirmation that he’d be quick. Todd, as much as he supported Knox in his pursuits of seizing the day and all that, wouldn’t be late for this show for anything in the world.

“Go ahead, guys,” Knox reassured. “I’ll catch up.” 

The boys seemed to accept that answer, all briskly walking toward the exit. Todd shot a glance at Charlie, who raised and lowered his eyebrows suggestively. Todd smiled, wishing he could’ve stayed to hear what profoundly sappy things Knox was bound to tell Chris. He’d have to settle for a recap later that night. Excitement surged through him again as he remembered the party they had planned for Neil, along with a twinge of dread about finally reading his poem. Still, he’d promised himself he’d do it. And maybe Mr. Keating had been rubbing off on him after all, because he didn’t feel nearly as mortified as he would’ve when he first arrived at Welton. Something about the past few months had changed him. Though, not all of that was owed to Mr. Keating. Much of it, of course, was all Neil. Todd felt his heart swell again.

The boys squished into the car, a tangle of limbs as they all attempted to make room for four lanky teenage boys in the back of Mr. Keating’s Chevrolet. Mr. Keating looked back at them with a warm smile on his face as the boys yammered to each other about whose asses were crushing whose arms, and about who smelled far too strongly of cologne, an accusation that Charlie fervently denied. As Mr. Keating started the car and began to drive, Knox and Chris came into view. Todd focused as hard as he could to try to catch any part of their conversation, but all he heard as Mr. Keating pulled up were the words “you don’t even-” coming from Chris’ mouth as she gesticulated in a way that Todd couldn’t imagine was a good sign for Knox.

“Will you be joining us, Mr. Overstreet?” Mr. Keating called out, his usual pleasant demeanor unaltered. 

“Go ahead, Captain,” Knox replied, his expression and posture still surprisingly hopeful despite being in the midst of what Todd assumed must’ve been a chewing out from the supposed love of his life. “I’ll walk.” Mr. Keating seemed more than alright with that, turning the car around and speeding up on the narrow, winding street.

When the caravan arrived at the theater, the parking lot was nearly completely full, a fact that brought a small smile to Todd’s face as his heart swelled with pride for Neil. He deserved a completely full house. It was only right. Mr. Keating ended up opting to park on the street, letting the boys out of the back and graciously holding the door for each of them as they clambered out. Todd offered Mr. Keating a quiet thank you as he nearly tripped out of the car, having to tamp down his enthusiasm to avoid sprinting into the theater. 

The group walked toward the grand doorway. Todd’s eyes darted around the building’s exterior. He was certain that the dim lighting and his own excitement were amplifying its charm, but he was captivated nonetheless. As Todd made his way through the doors, it became glaringly obvious that the building’s interior was much more enticing than its exterior. A sea of plush red chairs spanned the length of the room, and colorful balconies seemed to emerge from every wall. The stage itself was no less grand, with twinkling white spotlights whirling around the ornate set, and a golden arch wrapped from end to end, like a picture frame around a painting. Todd beamed as he looked around the room, so distracted that he barely noticed when Cameron shoved him into the aisle, trying to get to his seat. 

“Come on, Anderson, at least wait for the show to start before you get all googly-eyed,” Cameron said, smacking Todd on the shoulder with the back of his hand. Todd nodded and pursed his lips, turning to awkwardly shove himself past the knees of the audience members already seated in their row. As Todd settled into his chair, adjusting to try to get comfortable, Mr. Keating, who was sitting to Todd’s right, nudged him in the side.

“Excited, Mr. Anderson?” Mr. Keating asked with a warm smile. Talking to Mr. Keating had been distinctly different ever since Todd’s meltdown in front of him the previous week, but Todd attempted to ignore that feeling and speak with the man as casually as he could manage.

“Yeah, I, uh…” he began, cracking his knuckles as he tried again to adjust so he was sitting comfortably. “I’m excited to see the whole thing. I’ve- you know - heard parts, um, practicing it with Neil, but…” Todd pursed his lips together, shaking his head microscopically. “Yeah, I’m excited,” he concluded. Mr. Keating smiled again, a knowing glint in his eye that made Todd feel a mixture of discomfort and gratitude. 

Before Mr. Keating could reply, though, a hint of movement on the stage caught Todd’s eye. A split second later, Neil, his head adorned with a crown made of twigs and berries, appeared from behind a bush on stage. Todd felt his heart skip a beat, his breath catching in his chest as he tensed in anticipation. Charlie’s reaction was more exaggerated, immediately rising from his seat and whisper-shouting to get the attention of the others, all while Cameron struggled to restrain him and tug him back into the chair. Todd didn’t bother to spare them more than a passing glance, though, as Neil leaped to hide behind a tree on the stage, a sly smile on his face. Todd beamed at the stage, feeling more excited than he could remember feeling since his childhood. Another person, a girl, dressed similarly to Neil, emerged from the other side of the stage. Todd only saw her in his peripheral vision, though, keeping his eyes locked on Neil.

“Either I mistake your shape and making quite, or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite call’d Robin Goodfellow!” the girl declared playfully. 

“Thou speak’st aright,” Neil began, his voice confident and clear, just like it had been when he and Todd rehearsed. “I am that merry wanderer of the night. I jest to Oberon and make him smile when I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile,” Neil continued, whinnying like a horse and earning a loud laugh from the audience. Todd leaned forward, sitting on the edge of his seat, and found himself mouthing Neil’s lines along with him as he continued through the scene. He was so focused on Neil that he hardly noticed when Charlie rose out of his seat again, leaning over to Keating to excitedly whisper, “He’s good! He’s really good!” 

If Todd were in the mood to speak, he would’ve told Charlie that what he’d said was a profound understatement. As the opening scene chugged on, Neil managing to make the audience laugh with every joke he told, Todd felt like he understood every word Neil said perfectly, despite the Shakesperean English. Neil’s gift was making people believe, and Todd quickly found himself so wrapped up in the story that, beyond his occasional muttering of the lines he and Neil had practiced under his breath, he nearly completely forgot that it was a performance. Seeing Neil so at ease, so completely in his element, felt to Todd like complete and utter bliss. Something that he’d be willing to give up almost anything for. Even if he hadn’t wanted to wake up early to practice lines with Neil until the sun rose, any irritation he could’ve possibly felt would’ve been dwarfed completely by the feeling that burned inside him as he watched from the audience.

As soon as Neil exited the stage, Todd would’ve sworn he felt the palpable electricity in the room taper off slightly, though he couldn’t be sure whether he was merely projecting his own feelings onto the rest of the audience. Though he knew he should’ve been paying attention to the action on stage, he couldn’t keep his eyes from wandering to the wings, hoping to catch another glimpse of Neil. While he did, Todd regretted for a moment that he hadn’t brought the bouquet with him after all. No amount of praise that he could give Neil after the show would be enough to signify the enormity of what Todd felt. He remembered what Neil had said to him, his simple instruction. Come find me. Todd swore he would the moment that he got a chance. In that moment, nothing else in the world could’ve possibly been more important to him than that.

For a split second, while Todd peered into the barely-lit spaces between the curtains, Todd could see him. Neil’s eyes were darting around the crowd, a prideful smile on his face as he pressed up as close as he could to the curtain. Todd’s heart froze in his chest when, for a moment so brief Todd may have been imagining it, he caught Neil’s eye. And whether it was directed at Todd, or merely to be expected given the circumstances, Neil beamed. And Todd made up his mind. 

He was going to find Neil. And he was going to tell him the truth.

Flowers or no flowers, poem or no poem, it couldn’t wait any longer. No matter what Neil said, no matter what anyone said, Todd didn’t care. He was going to tell Neil how he felt. And a growing part of him, the part of him that Mr. Keating, and Walt Whitman, and Neil himself had nourished, believed the impossible. That Neil felt it too.  

Just as Todd made up his mind, his face warming up with excitement rather than embarrassment for once, Chris and Knox entered, Knox’s hand gently brushing Chris’ shoulder as she took a seat beside him. Todd did a momentary double-take, having been subconsciously dreading Knox’s arrival, certain that his devastation from Chris’ rejection would’ve turned him into a complete wet towel, interrupting the excitement of the evening. What he hadn’t anticipated was seeing Chris now leaning into Knox’s side, a flirtatious smile across her face. Though, maybe, there was something special about this day, something that meant that everything would work, just this once, just for one day. Maybe, this once, Todd could ignore his fear and finally allow himself to feel something just as terrifying. Hope.

Todd leaned in again when Neil reentered the stage, with a prop that must’ve been a love potion in his hands. As Neil bent down to apply the potion to Hermia and Lysander’s eyelids, Todd felt the ghostly feeling of Neil’s thumb delicately tracing Todd’s own eye as he delivered the same line he did then. 

“On the ground sleep sound. I’ll apply to your eye, gentle lover, remedy.” Neil spoke confidently, with the sly tone that was the signature of Puck, and distinctly different from how Neil had delivered the same line when he’d said it to Todd. Then, his voice had been softer, more earnest, like the context of the words had been lost and only their gentleness remained. Todd inhaled sharply at the thought, biting his lips again to try to tether himself back to reality as Neil continued the line. “When thou wak’st, thou tak’st true delight in the sight of thy former lady’s eye. And the country proverb known, that every man should take his own, in your waking shall be shown. Jack shall have Jill; Naught shall go ill; The man shall have his mare again, and all shall be well.”

The man shall have his mare again. Jack shall have Jill. Todd glanced over at Knox and Chris, whose fingers were now interlaced, hands balanced atop the armrest. He replayed the sound of Neil’s voice in his mind. Naught shall go ill. All shall be well. Todd looked down at his own hands, a small smile returning to his mouth.

Despite the infamous length of nearly every Shakespeare play, a subject of many protestations in English classrooms throughout Todd’s life, Neil’s play seemed to fly by. When Neil entered for what Todd knew to be the final time, beginning to deliver the closing monologue, the anticipation of seeing him that had been simmering inside Todd since he’d entered the theater threatened to boil over. Neil stood near the back of the stage, his hands crossed over his chest, displaying the twigs affixed around his wrists. The final monologue was one of the few sections of the script that the two of them hadn’t run together, and Todd listened especially attentively to ensure he caught every word.

“If we shadows have offended,” Neil began, earnest remorse in his face. “Think but this, and all is mended, that you have but slumber’d here while these visions did appear.” Todd couldn’t help but wonder whether that was true. Meeting Neil, his time at Welton, all of the bizarre occurrences that had characterized Todd’s year, seemed more like a dream than reality. Though, as Todd felt his heartbeat hammering in his chest, he couldn’t deny that this miraculous moment was real. That all of them had been. If Neil Perry was just a dream, it was one Todd wasn’t going to wake up from any time soon.

“And this weak and idle theme, no more yielding but a dream, gentles, do not reprehend. If you pardon, we will mend.” Todd felt a chill travel up his spine. “So, good night unto you all. Give me your hands, if we be friends, and Robin shall restore amends.” 

A silence fell over the crowd for half a second as Neil stood on stage with an expression that resembled quiet defiance on his face. The moment the curtain began to fall, though, the crowd was anything but silent. Todd was the first to get to his feet, standing up so quickly that he would’ve lost his balance if he weren’t propped up between Mr. Keating and Cameron. The rest of the group was quick to join, and soon they were all on their feet, cheering, clapping, and hollering like they’d just seen a rock and roll concert. All the noise seemed to morph into one roar of sound, one that begged to be intensified. Without giving it much thought, all the boys looked to each other and reached an instantaneous agreement, all letting out a loud, confident yawp in unison. Even Mr. Keating joined in. As the cast came out to bow, Neil looked toward the boys, all of whom instantly cheered louder than ever. Todd could faintly hear himself laughing and cheering along, his own voice drowned by the noise and by the sound of blood rushing in his ears.

All the actors bowed together, lined up single file, before they shoved Neil forward to take a second bow on his own. Todd beamed with pride and hollered louder than he ever thought he’d dare to do in public as Neil slowly, proudly took an indulgent final bow. The type fitting for a star actor, Todd thought, as Neil straightened back up, eyes focused above the sea of heads in the audience. The show had gone perfectly. Todd couldn’t have imagined any way that it could’ve been better. And Neil, of course, had been nothing short of radiant. 

Todd looked to his sides as the cast began to retreat backstage, evaluating the fastest way that he could extricate himself from the crowd and find his way to Neil. He had so much he wanted to say, and he worried that for once in his life, excitement, rather than nervousness, would be the reason he couldn’t get through a single sentence. Todd’s seat was in the middle of a row, packed seats to either side of him. He’d have to wait. Cameron, Charlie, Meeks, and Pitts, all sitting between Todd and the aisle, began getting to their feet, gathering up their coats and tickets that they’d set near their feet. Todd could’ve shoved past them, he nearly did, but he decided that he didn’t need to rush quite so much. Neil would need to change out of his costume before he came out to greet people anyway, he’d explained to Todd a few days prior. 

Todd considered trying to find Neil backstage, hoping for a place where the two of them could talk a bit more privately before Neil was swept up into the commotion of dozens of adoring fans all vying for a moment of time with him. Todd figured no one would mind if he snuck through one of the sets of doors that must’ve led back to where the actors were now congregating. If nothing else, he wouldn’t draw much attention among a cast of kids his own age. But Todd wanted time with Neil, and if he went up to him before anyone else, he could be fairly certain that Neil would be in a rush to get out and greet everyone. So Todd resolved to wait out in the lobby with everyone else, but promised himself he’d find some way to get Neil alone, even if it meant waiting until Mr. Keating’s car left for Welton without him and he had to walk back in the snow. 

Cameron, Charlie, Meeks, and Pitts finally maneuvered their ways out of their row of seats and into the aisle, where Charlie immediately took off like a bolt, shoving between shocked audience members and attempting to appease them with quick “excuse me”s and “coming through”s chirped over his shoulder. Todd smiled as he watched Charlie make his great escape to the front lobby and attempted to follow closely behind him, though he was certainly much less willing to shove people out of the way to get there. 

“Hey, Todd!” Pitts called out, and Todd slowed down to allow Pitts to catch up with him, Cameron in tow. “Wasn’t that amazing? I can hardly believe that was Neil up there! How’d he learn to act like that so fast?” Pitts drove through each sentence breathlessly, his eyes wide with enthusiasm. “Hey everyone!” Pitts called out, catching a few glances from other audience members making their way out of the theatre. “The guy playing Puck you all just saw up there? He’s my friend!” Pitts cut himself off with a roar of joyous laughter, clearly feeling the carpe diem spirit. Todd winced slightly as a short elderly woman turned back their way, her face pinched up in irritation, but even then, he couldn’t wipe the smile from his face.

“Yeah!” Todd called out in agreement, not nearly as loudly as Pitts, but much more loudly than he normally would’ve had the confidence to speak. 

“I mean, just incredible,” Meeks said, shaking his head like he couldn’t quite believe it.

“It was a great show,” Cameron agreed, speaking at a normal volume as he attempted to lift his head to the height of Pitts’ shoulder to address Todd. “I never knew Neil had it in him.” Todd raised his eyebrows slightly at that. He himself hadn’t had a shadow of a doubt that Neil had it in him from the moment they first met. He had what it took to do anything he set his mind to. Neil was extraordinary. And even knowing that as intimately as he did, Todd was still blown away.

“Where’s Neil anyway?” Pitts asked, shoving past Todd as Charlie caught sight of him and beckoned him over. Just as he did, Mr. Keating tapped Todd on the shoulder. As much as Todd wanted to talk to the man, as he turned to face him, he kept shooting impatient glances toward the doorway where the other boys had staked out. 

“So, Mr. Anderson,” Mr. Keating began. “Did it live up to your expectations?” Todd found himself beaming and nodding rapidly before he had managed to string a sentence together.

“M-more than that, sir,” Todd answered, for a moment completely unafraid of embarrassing himself. “He was perfect.” From the widening smile on Mr. Keating’s face, it was clear that he needed no clarification about the “he” Todd was talking about. Mr. Keating nudged Todd forward toward the doorway, encouraging him to go ahead of him. 

“On you go, Todd,” he said joyously. Todd wondered whether Mr. Keating had meant his instruction in a purely literal sense, or if, like Elise’s message, Mr. Keating was instructing him in a different matter entirely. Todd shot another glance back at the man, who winked at him and tilted his head, his eyes twinkling. 

Just as Todd managed to squeeze his way through the doorway, surrounded by a loud chattering crowd, he caught a glimpse of someone moving through the group. Todd’s eyes widened and he straightened up, standing on his tiptoes to see over the rows of heads between him and the exit. When he did, a familiar face came into focus. 

“Neil!” Todd called out, carelessly shoving his way through the tightly packed bodies. Any semblance of hesitation or patience rolled off of Todd’s shoulders. “Neil! Neil!” he repeated louder, trying to get Neil to look up and see him. Todd could hear Charlie calling out to Neil from behind him, his voice booming and brimming with pride. Todd finally found a gap in the crowd to squeeze through and managed to plant himself by Neil’s side. “Neil, I-” Todd began, a smile so wide stretched across his face that his cheeks were starting to hurt. Neil looked up, meeting Todd’s eye for a fraction of a second before looking away again, and Todd’s smile dropped. 

“I can’t, guys,” Neil said to no one in particular, his voice edging on irritated. His brown eyes, which Todd expected would be sparkling more than ever, were glazed over with despondency. His jaw was set tightly and his brow was tensed. Todd’s instincts overcame him, and he tried to reach out for Neil, to grab onto him, but the crowd was moving too quickly, and within seconds, Neil had been swept out of Todd’s reach. Before Todd had long enough for his expression to reveal his confusion, he looked back toward Neil and saw who was leading him out of the building. Neil’s father. Thomas Perry. And in an instant, Todd’s confusion was replaced with a sinking feeling of dread. 

“Neil!” Mr. Keating’s voice rang out to Todd’s left as the man made his way through the crowd, managing to grab ahold of Neil’s coat sleeve. Neil came to a stop, while Mr. Perry marched on intently. “Neil,” Mr. Keating repeated more softly, his voice still ringing with joy. “You have the gift,” Keating continued. Todd and the others rushed forward, trying to reach Neil. They all stopped once they were within a 6-foot radius of Mr. Keating, six pairs of eyes boring into the three men. Todd’s gaze was locked on Neil as he waited to hear what Mr. Keating would say, something in him fully believing that Mr. Keating had the situation under control, that he’d say just the right thing and the searing look of rage on Mr. Perry’s face would settle into some sort of acceptance. The sound of Todd’s heart in his own ears began to sound louder and louder, and it became increasingly difficult for him to believe it was coming from inside his own body at all. Mr. Keating was beaming at Neil, seemingly unaware of Mr. Perry’s presence.

 “What a performance!” Keating pressed on. “You left even me speechless. You have to stay with-” For a fraction of a second, Todd thought he saw Neil begin to smile, but just as he did, Mr. Perry stormed back to where the pair was standing and shoved Neil aside, away from Mr. Keating. 

“Get in the car,” he hissed, hardly even looking at Neil but rather staring venomously at Mr. Keating. Despite Mr. Perry’s domineering stance, the thinly-veiled aggression in his eyes, and the way that he inhaled like a bull, Mr. Keating’s expression remained calm as he looked the man in the eyes. His hands rested in front of him, clasped comfortably like they had been when Todd met with him in his classroom. But in his eyes there was an edge of protectiveness that Todd had seen in the man a few times before. 

“Keating,” Mr. Perry spat out the name like it was vulgar. “You stay away from my son.” Mr. Keating didn’t give Mr. Perry the satisfaction of nodding in agreement, fulfilling Todd’s silent wish. But Mr. Perry didn’t seem preoccupied with whether Mr. Keating agreed with his demand as he stormed around the front of the car and sat down in the driver’s seat, Neil following dejectedly behind him. Charlie followed the pair into the street and tried to call out to Neil. He even addressed Mr. Perry directly, trying to talk some reason into him. But before he could continue, Mr. Keating was gently pulling him back to the sidewalk, muttering to him not to make it worse than it already was. 

By the time Todd had finally begun to shake off the initial shock and make sense of what was happening, both doors of the car had been closed, and Neil was sealed inside Mr. Perry’s passenger seat. It all seemed to happen so fast. Neil looked up, locking eyes with Mr. Keating, his beautiful brown eyes silently pleading and apologizing and forgiving all at once, and not a full second later, Mr. Perry’s car was driving away, taking Neil with it. Neil was looking backward, turned toward the window, as he faded from view. Todd tried to catch his eye, to think of something he could do that wouldn’t require risking death or disfigurement by jumping in front of Mr. Perry’s car, but before he could think of anything at all, Neil was gone. Charlie shook his head bitterly in the corner of Todd’s eye, looking down at the ground. Todd was cold, much colder than could be explained by the chilled winter air, as he watched the car turn a corner and disappear from view completely. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

December 15th. 10:17 P.M. 

The cave felt empty without Neil. 

Todd hadn’t started taking the minutes for this meeting, but if he had, he would’ve written one word. Waiting. Todd could tell everyone was feeling it as they sat in tense silence. Every meeting began with the same opening poem, a tradition that was started years before the boys had even arrived at Welton. It had become a ritual for the boys over the past months, a way to kick things off that reminded them all of what these meetings existed to accomplish. But at every meeting, Neil was the one to read the poem. Glances were passed around the group, no one willing to speak up and address the problem, much less volunteer to read the poem themselves. Charlie, the most logical runner-up for the role, had disappeared a few minutes after the group had first arrived at the cave. 

Around the same time that Charlie had split off from the group, Cameron had disappeared as well. Knowing Cameron, he was likely expecting Neil would receive some punishment or sum of demerits for tricking his father and going against his orders, and was trying to avoid getting caught up in the fallout. But Todd didn’t suspect for a moment that Charlie was doing the same. His most recent stunt, putting up with Nolan’s wrath after taking the fall for the newspaper publication, may have been indicative of Charlie’s compulsive need for attention, but it was also proof of his fierce loyalty. Todd couldn’t help but feel that Charlie deserved a knighting and an official Dead Poets Society position much more than Todd himself did.

Todd had wondered aloud how Charlie managed to split off from the group without anyone noticing, to which Knox explained that Charlie said he’d just be a few minutes and that they could start the meeting without him. But they didn’t start the meeting without him. They didn’t even have the book that had served as their scriptures, Five Centuries of Verse, with them. It lived inside of Neil’s desk. Technically, someone could’ve volunteered to run back to the school and grab the book, Todd thought idly, but even thinking it felt wrong somehow.

Even Charlie’s eventual return did little to break the silence. He ducked under the lip of the cave, his expression revealing that he was slightly preoccupied, and scanned his eyes over the group, before silently taking a seat on the cave floor. Charlie produced a lighter from his pocket and lit the candle that the boys had wedged into the lightbulb receptacle of the lamp Neil had brought to one of their earliest meetings. After several more minutes of silence, the only sounds made by the boys dragging the soles of their shoes against the rocks underfoot, Chris was the first to speak up, leaning toward Knox and clearly uncomfortable with the awkward uncertainty that had fallen over the group.

“Knox, I think that… maybe I should go home. Chet might call, or…” she trailed off nervously, rubbing her gloved hands together. All the boys looked up toward her at once, but she seemed unbothered by the sudden attention. Todd concluded that he and Chris were very different in that way.

“C’mon, it’s just for a little while,” Knox bargained, an edge of childishness and desperation in his voice. “You promised,” he added more confidently. Chris stared at him, her face scrunching up in what looked like an attempt at anger, but which quickly dissolved into a smile.

“You are so infuriating,” she said, taking off one of her gloves and smacking him across the cheek. Knox exaggerated his reaction, pretending that Chris’ black woollen mitten had dealt him a fatal blow. Chris laughed playfully and rolled her eyes. Part of Todd wanted to let go of the tense weight that had settled on his shoulders and join the pair in their carefree joy, but all he could manage to think about was Neil. Instead of saying anything about it, Todd dropped his head against his knees and let out a loud sigh.

Once Chris had spoken, the silence that had fallen over the boys only became more uncomfortable. Meeks was the first to speak, drawing out his words like he was unsure whether it was inappropriate to be speaking at all and not eager to violate an unspoken social rule. Maybe Todd and Meeks were more alike than Todd had given him credit for.

“So, uh,” Meeks said, pursing his lips. “Did anyone see where Cameron went off to?” 

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Charlie replied dryly, leaning back against the rock wall and kicking his feet out. Todd wondered for a moment whether Charlie’s disdain toward Cameron was exaggerated, or if something had happened between the two of them before Todd had arrived at Welton. It could have very well been another aspect of the boys’ shared history that they’d simply overlooked sharing with Todd. It no longer particularly bothered Todd when he realized he was out of the loop about something the others had experienced together. He trusted that Neil would eventually end up filling him in on all the backstory, given how much the boy loved to talk. Todd’s heart ached as he thought about Neil, wondering whether he would be back at the school that night, or if his father would keep him up into the early morning, chastising him for doing the thing that Neil was born to be doing. Neil’s father, despite being Neil’s flesh and blood, was nothing like him at all. Neil was everything good in the world, and somehow Mr. Perry saw him as defective, unobedient, just because he had more complexity than someone like Mr. Perry could even begin to comprehend-

“If I ever see Neil’s father again, I’m gonna kill him.” The words reached Todd’s mouth before they reached his brain. Todd should’ve felt something as he said it. Shame, or regret, or at the very least embarrassment. But he felt remarkably little. Mr. Perry deserved it. Todd was just stating the obvious.

“Don’t be stupid,” Charlie quietly replied, with a despondent dismissiveness that told Todd that first-degree murder was an option that Charlie had already evaluated extensively and deemed unrealistic. Todd sighed heavily again, hugging his knees against his chest tightly enough that it made it hard to take in a full breath. Charlie was right, of course. There was nothing at all that Todd could do to Mr. Perry, no matter how much he may have wanted to. And, realistically, if he ever came face to face with the man, he would wither under his malevolent gaze. “Neil’s fine,” Charlie added sincerely, making eye contact with Todd. 

Before Todd could begin to question how Charlie could be so certain, a sound from past the mouth of the cave caught his attention. Rustling branches, paired with the crunching of footsteps in the snow. Someone was coming. Todd looked back to Charlie in hopes of getting an explanation, who only raised his eyebrows back at Todd and turned to face the cave’s opening. Todd’s first thought was that it must have been Neil approaching, having escaped his father’s ire and made his way back to Welton, just in time for the celebration to begin. A split second after having that thought, though, the less exciting but far more likely possibility came to mind, that it was merely Cameron returning from wherever he’d gone before the meeting. 

As the rustling got closer and closer to the cave, Todd watched carefully, waiting to catch a glimpse of red hair that would allow him to completely dismiss the hope that Neil was going to make it back for the meeting after all. But instead, a completely different figure appeared in the mouth of the cave. Mr. Keating, a familiar smile on his face, stepped up to the cave, looking around its interior idly before turning his gaze to the circle of students.

“I thought I’d find you here,” he stated simply, making eye contact with Todd for a moment as he did. 

“Mr. Keating?” Meeks asked incredulously, an edge of excitement in his voice.

“Not a bad way to spend an evening, ey gentlemen?” Mr. Keating asked, raising his eyebrows wistfully, clearly reminiscing to the days he’d spent in this very cave, all those years ago. After addressing the ‘gentlemen,’ Mr. Keating looked around the group, noticing Chris in the corner. 

“Oh, look at that,” he said, smiling in Chris’ direction. “Women are already swooning!” he continued with a light laugh, taking a step toward Chris, who smiled back at him in return. “John Keating,” he introduced, extending his hand to Chris. Chris took the man’s hand, shaking it while her smile widened to reveal her dainty white teeth. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Keating added politely, raising his other hand to cup the back of Chris’. 

“Christine Noel. Chris,” she introduced. “I’m new here,” she added with an awkward laugh.  

“These young men are lucky to have you in their company,” Mr. Keating replied, looking around the group. As he looked at the boys, his eyebrows lowered, and his mouth formed into a small frown. “Hey, why so glum?” Keating asked in a parental way, putting his hands on his hips comfortably. “Neil’s performance was a cause for celebration, not this.” 

That was true, Todd was more than willing to admit, and hearing Mr. Keating say it made the idea of celebrating feel more acceptable. Whether or not Neil could be there to see it, his performance had left the group electrified. It was a perfect moment for some poetry, as reluctant as the group was to attempt to begin a meeting without Neil there to oversee it. Todd felt a pang of worry in his chest about what Neil’s father might have been saying to him, but equally, he felt stirred up from head to toe, full of a desire to release the feelings inside of him. Todd’s poem, torn from his notebook and folded up neatly, seemed to be burning a hole through his pocket.

“Let’s have a meeting in his honor!” Charlie called out enthusiastically. A moment later, another thought seemed to enter his head, and he looked to Mr. Keating expectantly. “Captain? Will you lead it?” he asked, eyes wide.

“Oh, boys, I don’t know…” Mr. Keating replied placatingly, taking a step back as the boys collectively leaned toward him. 

“Come on!” Pitts pleaded, extending his hands toward the man. 

“Please, Mr. Keating?” Knox asked, while Meeks rose from his sitting position and simultaneously said, “We’d love for you to lead it.”

Mr. Keating clasped his hands together and looked down at them, a small smirk spreading across his face.

“Well,” he sighed, “I’ll do my best.” The boys cheered, all settling down into their seats and looking up at Mr. Keating attentively. He looked at them before disclaiming, “It’s been fifteen years.” The boys laughed good naturedly, all looking to each other with excitement lining their faces. Todd scootched closer to Mr. Keating, the sound of fabric scraping against the jagged rock face giving him little pause. Mr. Keating had the ability to draw Todd in like few others that he’d ever known. As soon as the man began to look up and to the corner, as though recalling an old memory, Todd found himself even breathing more quietly to ensure he heard every word the man said.

“I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately. To live deep, to suck out all the marrow of life,” he began, his delivery different from Neil’s, but no less gripping. Neil said the words with a sense of urgency, like he was looking out on a vast expanse of possibility, sizing it up, and deciding how to begin. Mr. Keating, however, delivered the words with the wisdom and experience of someone who had lived by them for years, to whom the words had become familiar and comfortable. “To put to rout all that was not life, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.” Mr. Keating looked back at the boys.

“Who’s up first?” 

“I have something,” Todd announced before he could talk himself out of it. Mr. Keating was right. Neil’s performance was cause for celebration, but more than that, it had inspired boldness in Todd. Boldness was not a feeling that he knew well, and he wasn’t eager to miss out on an opportunity to use it, even without Neil there to see it. 

“Oh, that thing you’ve been writing!” Charlie called out excitedly, sitting up as Todd made his way toward the center of the cave.  

“Yeah, that thing,” Todd replied dryly, biting at his lip as he fished the paper out of his pocket. Todd unfolded the paper, scanning his eyes over the clean copy that he’d carefully written out for this moment. As he skimmed the poem, he realized just how many lines were inspired by moments he’d shared with Neil. Neil’s stories on the rooftop about wanting to want to be a doctor, Todd’s terrified knocking against their shared dorm room door as he attempted to make amends with Neil after they fought, Neil’s promise that he’d suck the marrow out of each day of his life until he died, Todd praying to a god he didn’t fully believe in with splinters embedded in his fingerprints, Mr. Keating’s reassuring statements that made Todd just as nervous as the bitter ones he’d been repeating to himself. It was a story of hope deferred, but never defeated. 

Todd stood up a bit straighter as he felt a swell of pride in his chest. The poem wasn’t perfect, but it was good, and it was his. He’d show Neil the next morning. Neil would love it. Todd was sure of it.

 “I’ll take my old seat,” Mr. Keating said with a smirk, all of the boys smiling at him with unadulterated admiration even as he lowered himself to the ground with the distinct stiffness of a forty-year-old man. Todd smoothed out the paper in his hands, shifting his weight from foot to foot and trying to get settled.

“In between the verses, all of you say ‘and still we sleep,’” Todd explained, nodding to himself slightly to affirm that he didn’t need to be embarrassed. Todd owed it to himself to have a bit of fortitude, just for this moment.

“Wait, and still we what?” Charlie asked, sitting up and scooting closer to Todd.

“And still we sleep, ” Todd repeated, saying the phrase that had become almost sacred to him with much more confidence than he had the time before. He cleared his throat, looking around the group for approval, before beginning to read. 

“We are dreaming-” Todd started, before cutting himself off abruptly, gripping the paper tightly in his hands. He felt a wave of nausea wash over him and took a slow breath in to steady himself. He stole a quick look up at the boys, all of whom were looking back at him with wide eyes and eager supportiveness on their faces. Mr. Keating caught Todd’s eye and smiled at him the same way he’d smiled during Neil’s performance, pride and encouragement written all over his face. Todd let out the breath he’d drawn in, looked back down at his paper, and started from the top.

“We are dreaming of tomorrow and tomorrow isn’t coming,

We are dreaming of a glory that we don’t really want

We are dreaming of a new day when the new day’s here already

We are running from the battle when it’s one that must be fought.” 

As the stanza concluded, Todd looked up at the group expectantly, ignoring the singe of warmth in his cheeks. It took them half a second to catch on, but as soon as they did, they all dutifully repeated the phrase Todd had taught them.

“And still we sleep.” The collective voice of the group echoed through the cave.

“We are listening for the calling but never really heeding,

Hoping for the future when the future’s only plans,

Dreaming of the wisdom that we are dodging daily,

Praying for a savior when salvation’s in our hands.”

For the second stanza, the group needed no prompting.

“And still we sleep.”

Todd continued.

“And still we dream,

And still we fear, 

And still we pray,” 

Todd looked into the faces of his friends, a surge of emotion hitting him square in the chest. He took in one more shaky breath.

“And still we sleep.”

Todd tucked the paper back into his pocket. For a moment, the silence in the cave was nearly suffocating. But just as Todd started to worry that his friends were so disappointed in his poem that they couldn’t think of anything to say at all, cheers and applause broke out throughout the group, smiles settling onto each of their faces. 

“See? I told you you’ve got a poet’s soul,” Charlie shouted joyously. Mr. Keating mimed picking up something heavy, swirling his hands over it and staring into the empty space like it was showing him something profoundly fascinating.

“I hold in my hand this crystal ball,” he joked. “I see for Todd Anderson great things!” 

“Getting better, huh?” Todd replied, a nervous smile stretched across his face. Mr. Keating stood up and gave Todd an earnest pat on the back, nodding and beaming at him. 

“It was beautiful. I’m honored that you shared it with me,” he answered. Todd felt his chest burning with joy and relief as his friends stood beside him, patting him on the back and chattering over each other about how impressed they were and how they hoped Todd would write another poem for their next meeting. Todd, swept up in the heat of the moment, found himself agreeing that he would. He felt like he could do anything. He wondered if this was how Neil felt all the time.

“Now,” Mr. Keating asked, “have you fellas found the waterfall yet?”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

December 15th. 10:47 P.M. 

Mr. Keating was leading the group through a dense path of trees, a path that clearly hadn’t been used in years, but that he nonetheless navigated without a hitch. Todd heard Mr. Keating occasionally point out the landmarks he was using to find his way, but the sound of his voice was drowned out by the group singing as they marched. 

“In 1814 we took a little trip along with Colonel Jackson down the mighty Mississip. We took a little bacon and we took a little beans and we caught the bloody British in a town near New Orleans,” they chanted joyously, marching to the beat and waving their flashlights from side to side in time with the music. “We fired our guns and the British kept a-comin’. There wasn’t nigh as many as there was a while ago. We fired once more and they began to runnin’ on down the Mississippi to the Gulf of Mexico!” Charlie drew out the word “Mexico,” going up in pitch until he began to sound like an extremely poorly rated opera singer. Todd laughed as he leaped over a rock, turning around to watch as Knox fumbled with his flashlight and dropped it in the snow, earning another bout of laughter from Chris. 

In front of Todd in line, Pitts had jumped atop Meeks’ back, who was now struggling mightily to support his weight, but smiling all the same as he started confidently singing the second verse of the Battle of New Orleans. Todd joined in on the chants of “hut-two-three-four,” marching like a soldier as he did and swinging his flashlight over his shoulder like it was an old musket.

As the cool air bit at Todd’s face, he felt completely and miraculously free.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

December 15th. 10:53 P.M. 

“And he saw King Jesus. They were face to face. And he knelt a-weeping in that holy place,” Mr. Keating continued, gesturing to the group to join in on the final line of the stanza. “Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?” they all shouted in unison. As Mr. Keating reached the end of his recitation, a poem about General William Booth that he’d memorized word for word, the boys all cheered and whistled. “Amen!” Mr. Keating called out. 

“Amen!” the group replied. Mr. Keating suddenly came to a stop, gesturing before him to the waterfall he’d been describing earlier. Todd looked at the immense slope of ice, unable to keep himself from smiling as he did. The ice looked pristinely clear, like the waterfall had been captured in a still image. It reminded Todd of a castle wall, pillars of ice creating a barrier between the hollowed out rock behind the waterfall and the smooth, frozen pond in front of it. Charlie let out a loud whoop over Todd’s shoulder, darting toward the ice and sitting down, sliding quickly to the bottom. Todd laughed and followed behind without any reservations, even as the seat of his pants nearly snagged on a rock encased in the ice.

The others followed close behind, Knox and Chris running down the slope hand in hand and barreling into Charlie, and all three bursting into laughter as they fell harmlessly to the surface of the ice. Pitts slid down on his feet, extending his arms to either side of him and wobbling them rapidly as he did as he attempted to regain some semblance of balance. Meeks was the last one to come down, sitting down to slide and bracing himself with his hands. Once Meeks had made it to the bottom, the group all gathered together, Mr. Keating standing on the ledge above them, and formed a tight circle. Todd grabbed the two hands to either side of him, Charlie’s and Meeks’, and began to spin clockwise while Meeks began to chant.

“Then I had religion, then I had a vision, I could not turn from their revel in derision,” he began, as the circle sped up, feet slipping and scrambling for grip while laughter echoed against the walls of ice. 

“Then I saw the congo, creeping through the black,” Todd joined in, along with the others, smiling so wide that his cheeks began to hurt. “Cutting through the forest with a golden track! Then I saw the congo, creeping through the black, cutting through the forest with a golden track! Then I saw the congo-” they all chanted again and again, Pitts doing his best attempt at a robot voice, while Charlie began to attempt to add a tune to the song, clapping his hands together loudly between each word. Soon, the circle had splintered apart, and the group began dancing wildly to the chant, Meeks and Pitts facing off in a limbo battle under Charlie and Todd’s arms, while Chris and Knox began doing a dance that vaguely resembled a box step. 

“I can’t remember how to do the feet!” Knox cried out, to which Mr. Keating swept in, pushing Knox out of the way, and took Chris’ hand in his own, guiding her through an elaborate polka routine, all while continuing to chant. Todd paused his role as a limbo pole to watch Mr. Keating dancing, laughing with delight as the pair came close to him and Chris called out, “Why don’t they teach boys how to dance anymore?”

Charlie, not one to be outdone, grabbed Todd and dragged him toward the center of the frozen pond, pulling him along through an elaborate dance routine of his own. Todd yelped and cursed as Charlie continually nearly tripped him with his fancy footwork, but after a while it started coming more naturally, and soon he and Charlie were keeping up pace with Mr. Keating and Chris as they spun across the makeshift dancefloor. Soon, Meeks and Knox had paired up to dance, leaving Pitts to do an awkward jig on his own until Todd and Charlie grabbed him by the arms and brought him into Charlie’s strange routine. After a while, Mr. Keating danced back toward Knox, spinning Chris, who laughed musically as he did, toward Knox’s outstretched hand. 

“That, my boy,” Mr. Keating said with a smirk, “is how it’s done.” Charlie and Todd stopped their dancing to clap and cheer for Mr. Keating, who was too modest to take a bow, and then eventually for Charlie himself, who was certainly not too modest to take a bow. Todd beamed as he saw Knox nodding seriously, like he’d been tasked with a real responsibility, before taking off dancing with Chris, who immediately started laughing at him for looking at his feet.

Charlie had started singing Be-Bop-A-Lua confidently from atop the ledge of ice, giving the rest of the group something a bit more musical to dance to than the rhythmic chanting about the congo. Soon, Pitts had joined him atop the ledge, and the two were belting out the lyrics, fearlessly and substantially out of key, and Todd found himself dancing so energetically that he was too breathless to sing along with the parts of the song he’d overheard on the radio. Nonetheless, he shouted out every repetition of “be-bop-a-lua” as loud as he could manage, hardly even feeling the sting when his amateur dancing brought him tumbling to the ground. Meeks was quick to help him up, laughing while he brushed the snow off Todd’s elbows. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

December 15th. 11:41 P.M. 

While being serenaded by Charlie’s attempt at a Gene Vincent impression, Knox Overstreet kissed Chris Noel. And Chris Noel kissed him back. 

Charlie, who had caught the improbability out of the corner of his eye, stopped his singing to gasp dramatically, pointing over at the pair with his mouth agape. Pitts started to clap, and Charlie cheered so loudly that Chris covered her ears with her gloved hands, a delighted smile on her face nonetheless. Knox told the rest of the boys off, playing coy as they whooped and hollered, but a grin across his face revealed that he was cherishing every second of it.

“Who knew it was possible!” Todd heard Charlie shout, clearly still incredulous about Knox’s good fortune. 

“I certainly didn’t,” Todd added playfully, turning toward Knox and managing to step to the side before Knox could shove him backward into a tall snowbank.

“Hey!” Todd cried out, planting his boot into the snow and kicking a clump of it toward Knox. Knox let out an admonished scoff, before turning to the group and raising his hands to get their attention.

“You all have inspired me to write a haiku,” he began, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. He cleared his throat. 

“Knox is heartbroken. None of you believed in me. But look at me now, suckers,” he recited, putting his hand to his heart like he was deeply moved by his own poem.

“The third line’s too many syllables, dummy,” Charlie called out playfully, wagging his hands, with seven fingers raised, toward Knox. Todd laughed and looked back at Knox, waiting to hear his defense.

“Okay, well, rules were made to be broken!” he replied. Mr. Keating smiled at that comment, turning to Charlie and crossing his arms. 

“He’s got you there, Mr. Dalton,” Mr. Keating affirmed, nodding and raising his eyebrows.

“Oh, come on!” Charlie shouted, laughing as soon as he did.

Todd looked away from Charlie, who was beginning to jokingly accuse Mr. Keating of picking favorites, to catch sight of the scuffle happening to his right.

A burst of laughter rang out into the crisp night air as Meeks slipped on the ice and pulled Pitts down with him, the two immediately beginning a series of ill-fated attempts to make snowballs out of the light dusting of snow that sat atop the ice. Todd slid one foot forward at a time, approaching the two as they lay in a heap, thrashing and cursing each other out, but smiling all the while. Todd bent down to their level, watching with delight as they attempted to get back to their feet, snowballs the size of strawberries already starting to melt in their hands. Todd reached for the snowball in Meeks’ hand, picking it up between two fingers, despite Meeks’ protestations, and-

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

December 15th. 11:48 P.M. A time that would never stand out to Todd Anderson. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

-flattened it against the top of Meeks’ head.

“Hey! What was that for?” Meeks cried out, his mouth open wide in mock anger but his eyes revealing that was holding back a laugh. 

“Revenge,” Todd replied, unsure even in the moment what exactly he was meant to be getting revenge for, but more than ready to concoct an elaborate explanation if pressed. Meeks and Pitts seemed to have agreed to band together against Todd, gathering handfuls of snow while moving toward Todd menacingly.

“Well, the French do say revenge is a dish best served cold,” Mr. Keating added, seemingly having freed himself from his fake debate with Charlie, and placed a firmly packed snowball in Todd’s hand. 

“Hey, no fair!” Pitts called out, but by the time he had, Todd had already tossed the snowball straight at his chest. Snow shot out in every direction, a wet circular mark now adorning the front of Pitts’ coat. 

Todd wasn’t sure the group ever would’ve gone back to the school if it weren’t for Mr. Keating, who eventually got to his feet, putting his hands in his pockets, and explained to the boys that if he wanted to be able to teach the next day, he’d need to take his leave. And, given the fact that none of them knew how to get back to the center of campus from here aside from Mr. Keating himself, it meant that the night had drawn to a close for all of them. Todd didn’t mind. He followed directly behind Mr. Keating as he led them back to the school, ducking under branches and stepping over rocks without even having to look for them. Todd hoped he’d know this same path that well one day.

Once they’d gotten close enough to the school that Todd could see the outline of the building against the trees, Mr. Keating said his goodbyes, turning to take the path that led him directly to the teachers’ quarters.

Now that they were so close to the school, the delighted cheering that had emanated from the group back at the waterfall was replaced with a hushed, secretive electricity. While Knox quietly made a plan to smuggle Chris home by having her sit on the handlebars of his bike, Charlie was talking to Pitts about how it was a relief that he hadn’t brought out the cigarettes he’d bought for the party, because he suspected Mr. Keating would’ve given them all a talk about damaging their lungs in the name of teenage rebellion. Todd wasn’t listening closely to either conversation, though. He was simply allowing himself to feel. 

And, even without Neil there to see it, Todd finally felt that he could say that he’d done it. He’d really, truly, seized the day. For one frozen moment in time, Todd Anderson had made his life extraordinary.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Todd didn’t bother checking the time when he made it back to his room. He was far too exhausted. After a quick glance toward Neil’s bed, confirming that he still hadn’t made it back to the school, Todd threw off his coat and boots, hitting his boots together to rid them of snow. Neil would be back in the morning, either way, Todd reminded himself, as he stared at the empty bed. Todd would tell him all about the night before, and Neil would tell Todd everything Todd had wanted to hear about the show. Whatever Neil’s father had said, whether or not he’d been forbidden from acting ever again, he’d be back to Welton soon, and the boys would find a way to solve it. And if they couldn’t solve it, Mr. Keating could.

Todd turned to grab his pajamas from his dresser. Even in the darkness, the bouquet of flowers stood out from its surroundings. Todd winced as he realized he had forgotten to put them in water, lifting them up by the stems and giving them a sad shake, to which several petals began to droop. Todd’s lips turned downward in disappointment, but he quickly remembered the agreement he’d made with himself in the theater. Flowers or no flowers, poem or no poem, he reminded himself. 

Neil would be back soon. Nothing else mattered.

Todd put on his pajamas hastily, tossing his soggy clothes off to the corner of the room. His belt buckle clattered loudly against the wood, but even that hardly made Todd nervous. He felt untouchable. Invincible. Nolan could’ve been standing in the doorway right now and Todd would’ve been able to look him straight in the eye. 

Todd got into his bed, his mind racing with the events of the day, and memories of the play, and most importantly things he wanted to say to Neil. But he was so spent that it didn’t take his mind long to quiet down.

Todd fell asleep. 

He dreamed.

Neil’s thin frame faced away from Todd, the gold halo of light that had framed him that afternoon silhouetting him against the darkness. Todd felt his heart swell in a familiar way, warmth blossoming through his veins. Todd wanted to run to him, but instead he waited. Finally, after months of having the same recurring dream, Todd didn’t want to wake up from it anymore. He wanted to savor every second of it. 

Neil turned around, brown eyes opening wider at the sight of Todd, like he was trying to take all of him in. Todd heard himself sigh with a mixture of relief and exhiliration, barely audibly, before reaching out toward Neil, hands quickly finding the side of his neck and fingers combing through his short hair. 

Neil inhaled, his shoulders raising ever so slightly against Todd’s palms, and Todd awaited the almost supernatural relief that seemed to wash over him when Neil breathed his name. An acceptance, an acknowledgement, an answer, an ending. 

Neil’s eyes sparkled, and he took in another short breath. He opened his mouth to speak, lips parting ever so slightly, and-

“Todd?” A voice broke through the silence. It wasn’t Neil’s.

Todd squeezed his eyelids shut, trying to stay asleep for even a few more seconds, but he saw Neil’s dreamlike form fading into the reddish-black hue of the inside of Todd’s shut eyelids.  

“Todd,” the voice repeated, hushed but insistent. Todd forced his eyes open, blinking blearily as the faces of Charlie, Knox, Meeks, and Pitts came into focus, all hovering over Todd’s bed. Todd grumbled a sound of frustration in the back of his throat, shifting away from the disruption.

“Oh, Charlie,” he said to himself dismissively, confident that this was some sort of practical joke that the group had agreed to play on him to get back at him for his perceived slight at them when he’d gone off to buy the bouquet instead of sticking with them during their outing. But as Todd turned on his bed to stuff his face into his pillow, he caught a glimpse of Charlie’s expression. 

Something was wrong.

“What is it?” Todd asked, a chill filling his chest and leaving frost on his heart and lungs. Charlie’s lip twitched, his eyebrows downturned and his cheeks wet with fresh tears. As soon as Todd asked the question, he realized he didn’t want to know the answer. Whatever it was that was enough to make Charlie Dalton look so utterly broken was not something Todd wanted to face. He wanted to go back to sleep. He wanted to go back to his dream. He wanted to go back to Neil -

Todd’s eyes widened.

Charlie inhaled shakily, holding eye contact with Todd in a way that felt nearly inescapable. Todd’s mind was racing, trying to make sense of what could have gone wrong. What possibly could have been bad enough that all of his friends had gathered together, their tear-streaked faces lined with a mix of sorrow and horror, to break the news. Todd’s ears were ringing. He could hear his heart pounding in his chest, blood coursing through his skull.

And then everything went still. And Charlie answered Todd’s question.

“Neil’s dead.”

Chapter Text

The year was 1959. December 16th. Todd Anderson was… 

Todd was… 

Todd must have still been dreaming.

“What?” His own voice sounded far away, breathless, desperate. 

“Neil’s dead ,” Charlie repeated, his voice breaking on the word “dead.” Another tear rolled down Charlie’s cheek, reflecting the dim morning light pouring in through the window. Todd sat up. His stomach turned. He suddenly felt much colder.

“That’s not true,” Todd breathed, his eyes wide. It was all he could say. All he could think. The room was eerily quiet, aside from the sound of creaking wood as Knox anxiously shifted his weight from one foot to the other in the corner of Todd’s vision. 

“It is, Todd. He killed himself,” Charlie insisted, his face tensed up in pain, but his eyes still locked with Todd’s. Todd’s own face was slack. Expressionless.

“No, that’s not true,” Todd repeated, his voice firm and insistent. He vaguely felt a hand settle on his shoulder. He flinched away from it. 

“Todd, Mr. Nolan told me himself that Neil-”

Todd refused to hear how Charlie would complete that sentence. He stood up, tossing his comforter aside. Charlie took a step back as Todd turned back toward his bed, silently lifting the comforter and smoothing his sheets back down. Todd’s mind was empty. For a moment, he lost sight of the group standing in his room, closely watching him, waiting to see what he’d do. 

“Todd?” Meeks asked, his voice thin. Todd didn’t look up. His mind felt like it was submerged in molasses, moving so slowly that Todd could hardly register it at all. An urge came over him, one that he couldn’t fully process, and in an instant, he found himself reaching for his coat and walking through the door into the hallway. The blood coursing through his eardrums, the pounding of his heart, and the whirring of his mind had gone quiet. Too quiet. Painfully quiet. And Todd needed to get away from all that quiet and find somewhere where he could listen.

He walked down the stairs, his hand tracing down the banister. Slowly, one step at a time, he reached the bottom. He looked up, scanning the empty hallway. Something in his chest was starting to ache. But he swallowed down the feeling and surrendered himself to the vast nothingness that seemed to have consumed him from the inside out.

“Where are you going?” Todd could hardly hear Pitts’ question. 

“Give him a minute,” Charlie whispered in response. The sound of Todd’s own breathing seemed to be getting louder. A soft whistling gradually consuming all other sounds. Todd opened the doors to the courtyard. He could hardly hear the creak of the hinges. The others were following behind him, keeping their distance. Todd didn’t wait for them. He marched forward, stepping harder than he had to just to hear the crunch of the snow, just to feel the neurons in his head firing for a split second before returning to emptiness. The snow muffled all sound, leaving the grounds agonizingly quiet, and allowing the droning sound in Todd’s head to demand his attention. 

Todd slowed down. He looked up. The dim light of the morning was turning the snow blue, coating the tree branches and the dock and the muddy paths with perfect, polished crystal. 

“It’s so beautiful,” Todd said, turning back to face the boys. 

And suddenly, it all hit him. 

Neil, sitting in the snow, watching the sunrise. Neil, skin stained blue, his perfect face reflecting the moonlight, staring at Todd like he, too, was a prism that reflected the beauty of the world. Neil, trapped inside his father’s car, unreachable, moving away so quickly. So unwaveringly. Going and going until he was gone. Neil was gone -

Neil was dead.

Todd didn’t feel it happening. But suddenly he was on the ground, clutching at his stomach while bile burned its way through his throat. He coughed and choked, trying desperately to take in a breath, while he distantly felt hands grabbing onto him, arms encircling him, holding him in place. Tears were rolling down Todd’s face, and he could hear himself sobbing, feeling the tightness in his chest morphing into pain. 

“It’s okay, Todd.” 

“Todd, you’re alright.”

“It’s gonna be okay.”

“Just breathe, Todd.”

Voices without names. Comforts that didn’t register over the screaming of Todd’s splintering heart.

Neil, Neil, Neil, Neil, Neil.

“No,” was all Todd could say in response, the word coming out more like a constricted sob than speech. Todd’s chest heaved, each breath aching, like his body refused to accept that he could be breathing. That he could still be breathing. That he had any right to be.

Not if Neil wasn’t. If Neil wasn’t breathing, then Todd had no right to be-

If Neil wasn’t breathing-

“Todd-” 

Cold bit at Todd’s exposed skin. He dug his hands into his core. Someone was trying to clean his face, a frigid handful of snow against Todd’s cheek and another hand on his shoulder, trying to keep him in place. Todd struggled against the grip, sobs failing to take the shape of words, fragments of sentences that Todd tried to force out of his constricted throat. Neil didn’t. Neil wouldn’t. Neil was okay. The others didn’t understand that. Todd had to make them understand that. 

“No, Neil didn’t-” he tried, tried to get the words out, tried to believe. But he was crying harder now, and as the words escaped Todd’s mouth, so did his hope that they could be true. “He wouldn’t have-” he choked, thrashing his head and neck in a desperate attempt to get away. His words came out as a plea, a prayer. Like if the universe agreed that it made no sense, it would undo its mistake. “He wouldn’t have done it.”

But wouldn’t he? Wouldn’t he? Todd couldn’t answer that question. Everything seemed too fast and too slow, too loud and too quiet, all at once, for Todd to even attempt to answer that question. 

“You can’t explain it, Todd. He’s gone.” That was Meeks. In that moment, Todd hated him. Hated him for saying it, when Neil wouldn’t . Not Neil. Neil wouldn’t. Neil would not. 

“It was his father!” Todd shouted, clarity finally settling upon him for a moment. Only something monstrous could have taken Neil. Only something wicked could have killed him. It was too cruel. Too awful. Too unimaginable.

“No!” Pitts shouted, trying to force Todd to look him in the eyes. But Todd wouldn’t. Todd refused. He struggled again against the arms encircling him, tensing up further as he felt a face press against his straining back.

“He wouldn’t have-” Todd sputtered, cutting himself off as he stopped believing the words coming out of his mouth. “He wouldn’t have left us, it’s because he-” Todd tried again, brain aching with exhaustion as he tried to think of some explanation for how this could have happened. “He wouldn’t have. His dad was- his- his father did it.” Todd didn’t have Neil’s gift. His gift of making people believe. Todd could repeat the words again and again, and still the boys would look at him with those pitying eyes.

“Todd,” Charlie’s voice was insistent, his grip around Todd’s shoulders tightening. Todd could hear Knox crying behind him, the sound muffled by the back of Todd’s coat. 

“His father killed him. He made him do it.” Todd looked from face to face, tears and snot clogging his throat, and felt strangely like he was begging. Begging to be spared from a truth so painful that Todd wasn’t sure he could hold all the pain inside of him. Four sets of arms were holding him and rocking him, but he didn’t want to be soothed. He didn’t want any comfort. He wanted to be spared from the pain. He wanted mercy. 

“Todd, you have to believe us-” Meeks again. Todd shook his head forcefully, feeling tears ricochet off his cheeks. And then, with the swiftness of a bullet piercing through his body, Todd did believe them. And the ache became harsher, and his lungs became tighter, until he’d been reduced into something so fragile and wounded that even the arms around him were crushing him. He fought against them, fought like a mouse caught in a glue trap, trying to escape the inevitable, until eventually the glue trap gave way. And before Todd could check what had been left behind in it, what part of himself he’d needed to tear off to escape, he was running. Running, stumbling, falling. Snow soaking his pajamas, stinging his cheeks. A cloud of white in his wake.

“Todd!” Meeks cried out. But Todd kept stumbling forward, aimless, going nowhere aside from away. Away from the reality of what had happened. Away from the reality that Neil was gone. Neil was dead. Neil had killed himself. And Todd screamed out into the snow-covered landscape, the banks that robbed the world of all sound, all comfort, all relief. He wailed in pain, loud enough that the snow couldn’t swallow the sound.

“Neil!” Todd’s own voice sounded foreign, animalistic. He kept running, not slowing his momentum or even trying to protect himself from the impact as he fell again, sliding down the slope. Something in him felt relieved as he thought of the trail he must’ve been leaving through the snow. It shouldn’t have been so undisturbed, so silent, so perfect. Not now. 

Todd began to slow down as he approached the dock. Fear of falling off the edge of the dock and breaking through the ice began to muffle his desperate urge to keep running until he could turn back without catching a glimpse of Welton. Todd’s arms swung loosely at his sides, all tension beginning to leave him, and profound exhaustion taking its place. He stared at the frozen lake for a moment, attempting to steady his breathing. The lake was still, unable to move, unable to change. At least, not until the thaw. 

Todd thought of Neil in the cool, blue darkness. In the night. In Todd’s dreams.

Todd thought of the ring of gold that encircled Neil before he left Welton for his rehearsal. The band of heat that traced him against the winter sky before he left Welton for the last time. 

Todd sank to his knees. 

1959. December 16th. Todd Anderson was 17 years old. 

Neil was dead. 

Neil was dead.

Neil was dead.

Neil was dead.

Neil was dead.

Neil was dead.

Neil was dead.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“- fuck , Todd, I- I don’t think this is helping you.” Charlie cut himself off, interrupting the story he’d been repeating to Todd for the better part of an hour. He ran a hand through his hair. Todd’s eyebrow furrowed. Charlie was wrong. It was helping. Todd needed to know.

Charlie stood up from the edge of Neil’s bed, where he’d been sitting while he told Todd all the details he knew about what happened the night before. Todd had insisted on it. Todd wasn’t keeping track of how many times he had pleaded with Charlie to repeat his recounting of events. Certainly more than once. But Todd was finally beginning to put the pieces together, to fill in the blanks. 

“Tell me again. Charlie, please,” Todd begged, his face puffy from crying, and blankets pulled up to his chin. His teeth were still chattering, though he had stopped noticing the stinging pain across his skin as his temperature rapidly rose beneath the stack of blankets. Charlie had been the one to usher Todd back inside, to coax him out of the snow and do his best to warm him back up. Todd attempted to ignore the fact that some of the blankets draped over him had been Neil’s. Some still smelled like his skin. 

“Todd,” Charlie sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I need to understand, I-” Todd explained, sitting up slightly to look Charlie in the eyes.

“I know that, Todd, but I really don’t think-” Charlie started, now pacing around the center of the room.

“Charlie,” Todd insisted, his voice coming out more harshly than he intended. Charlie looked at him, his jaw fixed in what could’ve been mistaken for anger, but Todd didn’t dare so much as blink. He stared at Charlie, trying to set his expression as something intimidating, but confident that he looked pitiful, with his reddened nose and watery eyes. Charlie huffed out a breath and crossed his arms in front of himself. 

“Fine. One more time,” Charlie agreed, holding up one finger in a way that reminded Todd of a school teacher. Though maybe Todd was reminding Charlie of a child, Todd considered. “Where was I?” Charlie asked with a sigh. 

“Nolan just told you about Neil,” Todd replied quietly.

“Right. Nolan told me what happened, and I went down the hall to call my parents. I figured they must’ve known something, at least more than what Nolan had told me. But all they’d heard was that there’d been a fight, that Neil and his parents weren’t seeing eye to eye about the play, and then later that night, Mr. Perry heard a gunshot, woke up, went downstairs, and found him. That’s all they knew,” Charlie explained again, his eyes bloodshot and affixed on the ground. Todd knew it wasn’t fair to make Charlie do this. He knew Charlie was grieving, too. But it felt impossible to let go of the one thread that was holding him to some sort of understanding. “And after I called them, I-”

“He shot himself,” Todd whispered shakily, unable to look Charlie in the eye. 

“Yeah. He did.” Charlie nodded solemnly, his lips drawn into a tight line.

“How did he-” Todd began, his eyes stinging. “How did he get the- the gun?”

“Todd, I told you everything I know,” Charlie said placatingly. “I don’t know where he got the gun. It must’ve been in his house somewhere.”

“But- but how could he just-” Todd stammered, struggling to sit up from beneath the pile of blankets Charlie had piled on him.

“I wish I knew.” Charlie crossed his arms across his chest. “But either way, after I called my parents, I told Knox first, because I knew that he-”

“Where did you go?” Todd asked, a blank section of the story in his head jumping out to him.

“What?” Charlie asked, furrowing his brow.

“During the meeting. You and Cameron were both gone at the beginning. Where did you go?” Todd repeated, his voice biting and bordering on accusatory. Charlie’s face shifted from confusion to pained understanding. He dropped his head, sitting back down on the edge of Neil’s bed. Todd himself hadn’t dared to touch Neil’s bed. He couldn't have.

“I-” Charlie started, before snapping his mouth shut and looking away, his lips drawn into a tight line.

“Charlie,” Todd demanded. Charlie looked back at him before shaking his head, almost imperceptibly.

“Okay. Fine.” Another pause. “I called Neil.”

“What?”

“I called Neil,” Charlie repeated. Todd’s jaw slackened as he took in the words. “I felt like something was wrong, and I wanted to just put it to rest, so I used the phone down the hall and I called him.” Charlie rubbed the back of his neck with his palm, visibly uneasy.

“Did he answer?” Todd asked, a cold chill running down his spine. Charlie wouldn’t have omitted this crucial detail from his story for no reason. Whatever happened, Charlie didn’t want Todd to know about it.

“Yeah. He did,” Charlie confirmed. A trace of frustration forced its way into Todd’s face. Todd could feel his heart speeding up.

“What did he say, Charlie?” Todd asked, his voice coming out thin and desperate. Charlie didn’t answer immediately. Todd repeated himself, more forcefully this time. “What did he say?” He could feel the tears burning in his eyes.

“He asked if it was you,” Charlie relented. “Sounded like he was really hoping it was you.” Todd’s stomach dropped. “I didn’t want to tell you-” Charlie continued, pausing to swallow thickly. “I didn’t want you to feel guilty that it… wasn’t.” Todd stared at his hands, watching as they started to quiver. Neil asked for him. But Todd hadn’t been there. He hadn’t been there. He hadn’t thought to call at all. 

“Did-” Todd began, trying to distract himself from the burning pain inside of him. “Did he say anything else?” Charlie shook his head, his lips pursed, and his brows furrowed.

“No. Neil’s father shouted something, I didn’t catch exactly what he said, then Neil hung up,” Charlie explained almost defensively.

“Why didn’t you-” Todd snapped, before cutting himself off with a quick breath and starting over. “Did you know?” 

“No, Todd,” Charlie said, with a bit more agitation. “I didn’t know what else to do. I mean, I called back, but I didn’t want to make things worse, and when Mr. Perry gets angry…” Todd’s head was spinning, guilt and anger and grief all mixing together inside of him.

“Well, why couldn’t you have-” Todd started, but cut himself off as he felt himself deflating. He looked over at Charlie, who shifted uncomfortably on the mattress, like he was bracing himself to be blamed. Todd felt a surge of regret in his chest. “Sorry,” he mustered, looking back down at his hands. The two sat in silence for a while, the air feeling stagnant and heavy.

“You’re right, Todd.” Charlie broke the silence. “I should’ve done more.”

“No, Charlie, I didn’t mean that-” Todd tried.

“I should’ve,” Charlie repeated resolutely. “And I should’ve told you about the call sooner, I just-” Charlie took in a quick breath, clasping his hands together. “I mean, it’s hard to make sense of it, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Todd agreed, thinking about what Charlie said, about how Neil had asked for him. It felt selfish, greedy, to ask Charlie for any more details about how Neil had asked for him, how his voice sounded, whether Charlie said anything first, any details that Charlie could remember. As the shock began to subside, Todd was left with an overwhelming sense of delirious confusion. None of the pieces seemed to fit together in his brain, and even those that did came nowhere near creating a satisfying explanation. The moments between Neil leaving the theatre with his father and Charlie waking up Todd with the news stretched wide like a gaping hole that seemed intent on swallowing Todd in one violent gulp. 

The pair sat in silence for a while, unsure what more could possibly be said. What was there to do, to explain, to ask, that would matter in the wake of what had happened? The wake of what had been lost? Todd felt a pang in his gut as he pictured Neil leaving Welton the day before - could it have really been the day before? - with that angelic halo surrounding him. As he pictured the scene, the word heaven popped into his mind, and then the word sin, and he blinked harshly to unlodge them from his train of thought. He wasn’t ready to think about that yet. 

“Are you ready for the assembly?” Charlie interjected solemnly. Todd raised an eyebrow slightly. 

“Assembly?” Todd repeated, much quieter. 

“For Neil,” Charlie clarified. Todd winced reflexively at the thought.

“Oh, god.” He brought a hand up to his face, covering one eye and attempting to block out the reality of this day.

“I know,” Charlie sighed, turning away from Todd to kick his feet off the edge of the bed. “It’s bullshit. But we have to go. It’s mandatory for the whole school.” 

Since when do you care what’s mandatory, Nuwanda? Todd thought, but instead he merely said. “Okay.” Charlie nodded, an uncomfortable grimace on his face. Like it pained him to be compliant with something that angered him down to his core.

“This feels so wrong,” Charlie said, after a short silence. His voice sounded much more vulnerable than Todd had heard before, like he was entrusting Todd with a secret. It felt disconcerting, in a way. Like Todd was seeing a side of Charlie that normally would’ve gone to Neil. Like Todd was stealing from him. But, then again, when Todd was trying to make sense of what happened, when his world was shattering around him, Charlie was who he’d gone to. Charlie, because Charlie was the closest thing he could get to Neil. Maybe that’s what Todd had become for Charlie, too. 

“It is,” was all that Todd could think to say. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The assembly was an insult. That was the best word Todd could think of, while he walked back toward his dorm room, his arms held limply at his sides and his body feeling much heavier than normal. Like he was a puppet whose strings had been severed. Holding him upright one moment, then letting him fall the next. 

Somehow, Nolan had managed to chew up Neil’s death, his personhood, his spirit, and digest it into some sort of testimony to the dangers of straying from Welton’s values, whether he said those words explicitly or not. Todd hadn’t been brave enough to say anything, despite how badly he wanted to proclaim to anyone who could hear him that Nolan got it all wrong. Instead, he sat silently, sang along with the hymns, and tried to prevent the tears that had pooled in his eyes from spilling. Charlie, on the other hand, refused to sing outright, his jaw clamped shut in defiance.

Todd should’ve done the same, should’ve done something, should’ve said something, but like always, he just couldn’t find it in him to be brave. And without Neil, Todd wondered if he would ever feel truly brave again.

He thought back to the day before, the last day, the day when he’d convinced himself to confess how he truly felt to Neil. A brief swell of bravery, one that was completely owed to Neil’s presence, his warmth, his boldness. Todd was more when Neil was with him. He was a better version of himself. Todd ached as he realized that he may not have only lost Neil, but that version of himself as well. The version of himself who could create things, who could recite poetry in front of half a dozen pairs of eyes, who could somehow believe that it was possible for Neil Perry to love him back.

It sounded ridiculous now. That idea. Far-fetched, naive, delusional. Whatever word Todd chose, it still stung the same. The fact that Todd had entertained the possibility that Neil could’ve felt anything for him seemed like a childish fantasy, squashed by the cold, unforgiving truth. No. Whatever Neil felt for Todd, clearly it hadn’t been enough. Neil had been suffering. It was the only explanation. As much as Todd wanted to believe that Neil’s father had done something to shatter Neil’s soul in just one night, it didn’t seem possible. Not to Neil, not if Neil had been who Todd thought he was. Instead, a much more agonizing possibility emerged. Neil had been suffering, Todd hadn’t noticed, and Todd had not been enough to save him. 

Todd remembered the two nights he and Neil spent together up on the roof, how both of them began with Neil, clearly in pain, and both ended with the two of them laughing, telling stories, and smiling until Todd’s cheeks were sore. At the time, Todd thought that he had been helping. That his presence was somehow lessening whatever pain Neil had been feeling. But as Todd thought of Neil up on that stage, creating a tapestry of truth so believable that no one could see the stitching that made up the picture, he began to realize that he likely hadn’t been bringing Neil any comfort at all. It was arrogant of him to ever assume his presence made Neil happy, or put him at ease, or brought him any relief from whatever had been tormenting him. 

Of course not. What was $5.98 Todd Anderson to someone so extraordinary? A blip. A fleeting moment in a too-short life. 

But Neil? To Todd, Neil had been everything. Everything that was good in the world, all the music and poetry, the sound of rain against a tin roof, the steam rising off a cup of tea, moonlight and sunlight, and everything in between. Todd had loved him. He had loved him in a way he’d never loved anything before. And now Neil was gone, and Todd would never have a chance to tell him. Never have a chance to run his fingers through Neil’s hair, to brush his palm against the soft skin of Neil’s cheek. He was gone.

The thought made Todd’s insides twist up. He dropped his head, taking a slow breath through his mouth, and grabbed the doorknob to his dorm room. 

Todd walked through the threshold into his room. The moment he was inside, he saw it. Neil’s bed had been stripped of its bedding, leaving it bare. All of Neil’s belongings, which had been strewn out across his side of the room, were gone. Like he’d never been there at all. The room looked chillingly empty. Todd felt something inside of him splinter as he stared at the empty surfaces that once housed the colorful chaos of Neil Perry. Everything was gone. Every notebook, every pen, every sweater. Even the papers in the trash can were gone. Every shred of Neil, eradicated. 

Todd wanted to scream. It took everything in him to keep himself from breaking down into tears, curling up on Neil’s bare mattress, and hoping that it would envelop him and keep him there forever. He blinked harshly, pinching up his face. 

Todd stood in the doorway for far longer than he could justify, one hand still on the doorknob, as if he could step back through the door, close it, and reopen it to a more pleasant sight. To Neil, sitting on his bed, papers strewn around him, and his glasses resting on his nose. Maybe they’d taken Neil’s things as part of their ongoing investigation into Neil’s death, an investigation that Todd simultaneously wanted to stop in its tracks and join in on. To have Nolan and his cronies poking around in what was left of Neil was a violation. But Todd would be lying if he said he wasn’t hoping to learn more about what happened. His imagination had been running wild since that morning, filling his mind with explanations and invented details that made his stomach turn.

The calendar in the corner of the room captured Todd’s attention as he attempted to look anywhere but Neil’s bed. December 15th, the day before, the final day, stood out from the white background like an omen. Circled in dark ink, excitement scratched onto the paper. Todd stared at that circle, his eyes following the spiral of ink, until it seemed to tighten, swirled lines strangling themselves. He frantically flipped the page backward, turning the calendar to November, October, September, August. Like some part of him believed he could turn back time so easily. Todd felt tremors traveling through his hands. His trembling thumb and forefinger clung to the bolded word AUGUST. The first month at Welton. The beginning of it all. Todd glared at the calendar, like it had somehow betrayed him. He flipped through the five pages again. 

Todd Anderson knew Neil Perry for 117 days. 

He’d counted each box one by one. 

117 days. 

In that time, that short sliver of time, how could Todd say that he knew Neil at all? How could he say that he loved him? Todd hadn’t even known Neil enough to anticipate what would happen to him. What right did he have to be standing here, missing him? What right did he have to Neil’s memory? To weep like a bereaved lover and scream his name out into the snow? 

It felt filthy. A desecration. Todd hadn’t earned the right to be grieving the way he was. He didn’t have permission to wonder about Neil’s gentle touches and soft smiles, because Neil was dead, and Neil had never loved Todd, and Todd had not earned the right to love Neil. Not when he’d let him get in that car. Not when he hadn’t thought to call. Not when he’d let Neil die. 

Todd’s fixation on Neil, his self-indulgent love, was culpable in what had happened. Todd was culpable for what had happened. If he hadn’t been so obsessed with the idea of confessing to Neil, maybe he would’ve taken Mr. Perry’s anger more seriously. Maybe he would’ve seen the brokenness in Neil’s face while the car pulled away, rather than fixating on the chocolate brown of his eyes. If he hadn’t been entertaining this foolish idea that Neil could love him, maybe Todd could have saved him.

Todd turned away from the calendar. From the small, white boxes that taunted Todd with their emptiness. Saying nothing, when they meant everything. 

A spot of color caught Todd’s eye against the lifeless surroundings. The bouquet of flowers, Neil’s bouquet of flowers, sat, unassuming, on Todd’s dresser. Todd had forgotten to put them in water. Overnight, the petals had begun to brown, drooping downward, sapped of their life force. Todd crossed toward the dresser, feeling his hands begin to tremble as he balled them into fists. He examined the flowers, noticing each vein of brown that traveled from the edges of the petals toward their core. Exposed to the harshness of the world, almost instantly, they had begun to rot. 

Todd grabbed the bouquet of flowers in his hand, feeling the crunch of dried leaves beneath his tight grip. He hardly noticed the thorns piercing the skin of his palm. He staggered across the room, blood dripping down his wrist, and reached for the clasp of the window with shaking hands. He swung the window open, drew back his arm, and with a broken shout and all the strength he could muster, threw the bouquet to the ground.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The year was 1959. Two days until Christmas. Charlie Dalton had been expelled from Welton. Mr. Keating, the first teacher who made Todd feel anything more than worthless, was gone, too. 

Todd Anderson was 17 years old. 

Neil Perry would never be 17 years old, because Neil Perry was dead. 

Merry fucking Christmas.

To make matters worse, Todd was now stuck in the back of his parents’ car -- legs squirming inattentively as he subconsciously tried to escape -- driving home from the cemetery. Part of him had hoped his parents wouldn’t be invited to Neil’s funeral. Even if it weren’t for Todd’s deep-seated resentment toward his parents, the idea of them watching Neil being laid to rest made him feel sick. The only part of his life that they bothered to intrude into was the one part that Todd wanted to keep just for himself. 

Typical , he thought.

Really, Todd was lucky that he had been allowed to go to the funeral at all. The semester had ended explosively at Welton. Todd’s friends, those who were left of them, had been forced to sign a document stating that Mr. Keating’s teachings were to blame for Neil’s death. Todd didn’t put up a fight. All the fight had been drained from him. Todd hardly even had it in him to be angry at Cameron. When he’d signed his complacency in ink, he knew Neil would’ve been disappointed. But Neil was gone. And Todd hadn’t been strong enough on his own.

Todd hadn’t been sleeping during his last week at Welton. As exhausted as he was, as completely sapped of energy as he’d become, the idea of sleeping terrified him more than he could say. For months now, Todd had been dreaming of Neil. Dreaming of quiet moments, peaceful moments, moments where Todd could love Neil without any fear or guilt or shame. Those dreams had gone from something Todd dreaded to the one place he felt truly alive. And each and every dream ended with Neil’s voice, bright and soft, breathing Todd’s name. Speaking him into existence. Acknowledging him. Seeing him. Loving him back.

Todd hadn’t been sleeping. He hadn’t been willing to confront the fact that he might not ever dream about Neil again. Because, as much as the dreams would leave him aching with want, it would be better than never seeing Neil again. Anything would be better than never seeing Neil again.

Maybe his sleeplessness had been to blame for what Todd did. In fact, Todd had no idea what had come over him when he saw Mr. Keating leaving the classroom. Maybe it was the way the man had looked at him, peering out from inside his office. A look that said not “I am disappointed in you,” but rather a simple question: “Is that all you’ve got?” Maybe it was the sight of Nolan and Keating beside each other as Keating walked through the doorway. Two men, alike in height and stature, but different in every other way possible. Maybe it was because Charlie wasn’t there to defy those in charge anymore. Maybe it was Neil. But whatever it was that gave him the courage, Todd spoke. He interrupted Nolan. He told Keating the truth, and he didn’t flinch under the gaze of all of his classmates as he threw caution to the wind and stood atop his desk. 

Mr. Keating was right. The world did look different from an additional 3 feet up. Of course, Charlie had been right, too, when he’d jokingly answered Mr. Keating. Todd did feel a hell of a lot taller.

He shrank back to scale in Nolan’s office, his parents on either side of him, each talking over each other as Nolan tossed out the words “disciplinary action” and “in-school suspension.” Ultimately, Nolan decided that, after Neil’s death, and given the upcoming winter break (which he insisted Todd use to “reflect on his actions”), Todd could get off with a very stern warning. His parents had been grateful, shaking hands with Nolan with expressions that must have been meant to look pitiful.

When Todd got home from Welton, he was grateful for once in his life that his parents didn’t pay him much attention. He managed to escape their ire by hiding in his room. Waiting for time to pass in its tight confines. 

After enough waiting, the day came. 

Neil’s funeral had been a muted affair. No sobbing, no wailing about the injustice, no impassioned speeches. It didn’t feel right. It made Todd’s stomach turn to hear Neil’s father describe him as “promising,” use veiled language that clearly implied he believed Mr. Keating was to blame for his son’s death, and show no emotion beyond uncomfortably clearing his throat when he addressed the group of mourners. Neil deserved more than that. Neil deserved tears, wails, and curses hurled at God himself. Neil deserved someone throwing themselves into the hole in the earth atop his cleanly polished casket, refusing to move for fear of being separated from him.

Todd adjusted his position in the back seat and noticed he could still feel the lingering ache in his shoulder from assisting in carrying Neil’s casket. It had caught him off guard when Mrs. Perry asked the Welton boys to take on that responsibility. While Mr. Perry seemed to hold some resentment toward the boys, at least as far as Todd could tell, Mrs. Perry seemed to feel quite the opposite. The ache in Todd’s shoulder blended in his mind with the memory of Mrs. Perry placing her hand over it, her face pinched up with grief, and looking at Todd with big blue eyes. She hadn’t known what to say, and Todd hadn’t either, but the look in her eyes was enough for Todd to understand exactly what she meant. To understand that the group of Welton boys was a symbol of the piece of her son that she would never fully get to witness. 

None of Neil’s friends had been invited to speak. They carried the casket, then wordlessly sat down with their own families, separated in more ways than one. Todd had stolen a few glances at the other boys, evaluating their expressions and hoping to make fleeting eye contact with them, but most of them kept their eyes glued to the front of the ceremony, watching Neil’s parents and grandparents go on about how he had been so disciplined, so driven, and what a shame it was that he had become so scattered . Now he truly was scattered, no longer existing in one form, impossible to piece back together from the fragmented memories that each person in the rows of chairs had of him. Todd wanted to extract each piece of Neil from their minds, lay them out one by one, and repair him. Reconstruct a version of him that was whole. A version Todd could fully understand.

Mr. Keating had been the subject of many conversations at the funeral. Todd didn’t join in. There was nothing he would’ve been able to say to change their minds. As far as they were concerned, Todd’s own parents included, Mr. Keating was Neil’s murderer. Of course, the man hadn’t been welcome at the funeral. 

Todd lost his train of thought when his father made a sharp turn down a side street that led to their neighborhood. His parents had been talking the whole drive back, but Todd had gone out of his way to ignore them. He had very quickly grown tired of listening to them describe Neil with all the same words that Mr. Perry had, like he was a commodity that had spoiled.

“Such a shame,” Todd’s mother repeated for what must have been the fortieth time. Todd didn’t bother looking up to see the pinched expression on her face or the condescending way she put her hand to her chest. He could picture it just fine. 

“His family must be so humiliated,” Todd’s father said. Todd felt his cheeks burn with anger, but he made no effort to dispute his father. It was hardly worth it anymore. 

“With a teacher like that, teaching our children to be so carelessly reckless, really, it’s a surprise that boy was the only one,” Todd’s mother added, tutting her tongue as she finished her sentence to show her disapproval. Todd let out a barely audible sigh and felt his shoulders shrinking inward toward his core. Though Todd may have proven his loyalty to Mr. Keating, his display had not been enough to change the minds of any parents or staff involved in the man’s wrongful exile. He’d already given that chance away, his decision sealed in black ink. 

“It’s disgraceful. It truly is.” Todd’s father’s voice was gruff, but polished clean of any character through years of lower-level management, where standing out usually meant you were doing something wrong. Todd thought of Mr. Keating’s marching exercise and missed the man anew.

“Downright disgraceful,” Todd’s mother agreed, tutting her tongue again. Todd tried to drown out their voices, ignore their blatant disrespect of the most important person Todd had ever known, and persuade himself that he didn’t care. Let them say what they want, Todd decided. What difference did it make?

“Now, Todd,” Todd’s father finally addressed him, “Your mother and I want you to remember that you can talk to us. Whatever that man taught you, we want to help you understand how to make sense of it. To get you back on track.” Back on track. Of course, that was what his parents were concerned about. Not the fact that Todd had lost his- lost Neil. Not the damage that had done to him. No. Keating was the problem; he was the infection that had to be purged from Todd’s system. 

“We know this has been hard on you,” Todd’s mother added, seemingly sensing Todd’s bitterness at his father’s comment. “And we understand that’s why you’ve been…” She raised her hands aimlessly as she looked for the words. “Acting out.”

“Acting out?” Todd found himself asking irritably before his mind had caught up to his mouth. 

“We’re not mad at you, son,” Todd’s mother eased. Todd crossed his arms in front of himself, like it could shield him. “We only want you to understand why that man’s… ideology was so dangerous.” Ideology. Dangerous. Todd would’ve scoffed if he didn’t know he was already on thin ice. Mr. Keating wasn’t proselytizing some ideology to a bunch of impressionable young boys. He had been teaching them how to live . How to thrive in a world that was fundamentally hostile to the human spirit. He had taught Todd how to take up space when all he’d ever wanted was to disappear into thin air. But since Todd was born, the world had been obsessed with ideology. Communist, capitalist, eastern, western, Soviet. To his parents, Mr. Keating’s carpe diem was no different from the Soviets’ long live the Red Army. They didn’t understand. They never would understand. 

“Look what it’s done already. That boy couldn’t make sense of the truth-” Todd’s father began.

“Neil.” Todd couldn’t help himself from interrupting, his voice quiet but firm.

“What?” His father met his eye through the reflection in the rear-view mirror.

“He’s not ‘that boy.’ His name is Neil,” Todd insisted, holding eye contact with his father. Todd’s father sighed heavily. They drove the rest of the way in silence, the only sounds coming from the overworked old motor.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Jeffrey was home. His car was in the driveway. Todd didn’t know how to feel about that. He should’ve anticipated that he’d get there at some point or another; it was nearly Christmas after all, but once Jeffrey had gone away for college, Todd could count the times they’d spoken on one hand. Even then, they’d never said more than a greeting, an obligatory “how’s school?” and an awkward goodbye. Snippets of dialogue that never amounted to any real connection. As Todd thought about it more, though, he decided he was grateful for Jeffrey’s arrival. At least it would take some attention off of him.

Todd trailed behind his parents as they excitedly hurried toward the door, both eager to greet their favorite son, and seemingly forgetting they had just been at the funeral of a sixteen-year-old boy. Todd’s father turned the key greedily, throwing the door open and immediately taking to removing his coat and hat.

“Jeffrey?” Todd’s mother called out enthusiastically, her eyes scanning the less-than-grand entry room.

“Coming, Mother!” Jeffrey called back. Todd hadn’t heard his brother’s voice in months. Husky, like his fathers, but not yet hardened with age. Still, not suitable for poetry reading, Todd thought. 

Jeffrey appeared at the top of the stairs, wearing a sweater with the Yale emblem embroidered on the breast. Todd’s mother let out a mixture of a gasp and a sigh, rushing to meet Jeffrey before he had time to make it down the staircase. His father was no less eager, clapping Jeffrey on the back and letting out a loud, hearty laugh. Todd drew his lips into a tight line and looked at the ground. 

“Oh, my son,” Todd’s mother cooed. “It’s so wonderful to have you home.”

“It’s wonderful to be home, Mother,” Jeffrey replied, beaming his all-too-perfect smile.

“And how was your final exam for business management? That was the one you said you were most concerned about, isn’t that right?” Todd’s father asked, his large hand still clamped around Jeffrey’s shoulder. Todd felt a twinge of pain in his chest as he remembered that Jeffrey received weekly -- sometimes even more frequent -- calls from their parents while he was away. Todd, on the other hand, had received two calls since he’d arrived at Welton, and the second had only been a precursor to his near-expulsion. Todd didn’t want to resent his brother, but that challenge was much easier said than done.

“Oh, it was much easier than I’d anticipated. I’d estimate I got a 95%, or maybe a bit higher,” Jeffrey replied, a small, polite smile on his lips. No one had looked at Todd since they’d entered the house.

“Now, that is just wonderful, son,” Todd’s father said. “Just wonderful.”

“I feel confident about all my finals. You were right, Father. The books you bought me were a big help.” Jeffrey looked healthy, Todd noticed. Strong. He must’ve been keeping up with the rowing, a sport that the Anderson boys had both been taught to love since childhood. Todd thought back to how he meekly asked to be placed on the rowing team at Welton, only to be assigned to soccer. Still, Neil had been in soccer.

“Excellent. Excellent, Jeffrey.” Todd’s father clapped Jeffrey on the back again, beaming with pride. Finally, Jeffrey turned to Todd, his polite smile dropping as their eyes met.

“Hey, Toddy,” Jeffrey said, clearly uncomfortable. He must’ve heard about what happened. No surprise, with how frequently Todd’s parents had been calling.

“Hello,” Todd replied emotionlessly. Todd wasn’t sure what Jeffrey had been expecting, but he furrowed his brow at Todd’s response, his lips drawn together. Jeffrey gave him a curt nod, then turned back to their parents. Todd let out a short huff and began unbuttoning his coat.

Family dinner was in order, a celebratory meal to commemorate Jeffrey’s return. Todd didn’t point out how inappropriate it felt, co-opting the day that should’ve been dedicated to mourning Neil with a celebration. There was no use arguing the point. Jeffrey was home, so Todd became irrelevant. It was the natural order of the world.

Todd’s mother was humming a tune while she stirred a steaming pot of something Todd hadn’t taken the time to ask about. Jeffrey and Todd’s father were chatting one room over about the book they’d been discussing earlier. Todd couldn’t quite make out the words, but from the sound of it, he didn’t much care to try. Todd had never been particularly interested in the world of business. It all seemed so impersonal to him, like the words “corporate” and “human” had become antonymic in his mind. Nonetheless, when Todd pictured his future, he knew he’d be stuck behind some stuffy desk, working for the man, unlikely to ever stand out enough to garner a promotion. Todd didn’t possess Jeffrey’s career-oriented ambition. He doubted he’d ever be the type to “climb the ladder,” as his father liked to say. 

Todd had planted himself firmly in an old leather chair that sat in the corner of the family room. Once he’d made it through the front door, he quickly found that he’d lost the necessary energy to go all the way up to his room and had settled for the place in the house that served as the closest substitute. That very chair, one that had once been much too large for him to even touch his feet to the ground, was where Todd had spent much of his childhood. Sitting, watching, while his family carried on. 

Todd’s thoughts began to wander back to Neil, despite his efforts to keep his mind completely blank. He mulled over the speech Neil’s father had given again, attempting to dissect it the way Mr. Keating had taught them to analyze poetry. Though even with Mr. Keating’s decidedly generous forms of analysis, Todd could see nothing in the words but “corporate.” The antonym of Neil, though Neil had been something more than “human.” Something too perfect, too precious, to last. Todd brought the same image to mind for the dozenth time, the image of Neil, bathed in gold light, a hint of a smile on his face, before he turned to leave Todd’s life forever. At the same time, Todd remembered a poem that Mr. Keating read aloud in class one day -- one innocuous day out of the 117 -- a brief verse by Robert Frost. Nothing gold can stay. 

Todd closed his eyes, squeezing them tightly shut, to try to block the images from his mind. It was no use. No use remembering. No use holding onto the shards that would never remake the original. No. Those shards were far too sharp. Todd let his eyelids slide open and tried to release his grip on the shattered pieces. To release the burden of having loved Neil Perry, Neil Perry who was trapped beneath a metric ton of earth, yet shattered into so many pieces that they would never be in one place again. The questions had no answers. The pieces were gone. Why should Todd bleed himself dry, slicing his palms open with shards of a person he had no right to take? Shards of a person he’d had no right to love?

“Dinner!” Todd’s mother called out, her voice ringing like a school bell, demanding attendance.

“Coming, Mother!” Jeffrey replied for the second time that day, crossing the short distance from the entryway to the dining room with Todd’s father following close behind him. Todd exhaled sharply before standing up, surprised to find that his legs had fallen asleep, and stumbled his way into the dining room. 

By the time Todd took a seat, his mother was already piling mashed potatoes onto Jeffrey’s plate, looking to him attentively for confirmation that she’d served him enough. Todd’s family hadn’t even thought to wait for him, it seemed. His mother had made a hearty beef stew for dinner, filled with sliced carrots, celery, and corkscrew noodles. That stew, along with mashed potatoes and eggnog, was one of Margaret Anderson’s signature meals, one that was reserved for special occasions. Apparently, including the date of Neil Perry’s funeral. 

Todd seemed to have lost his appetite.

Though before he could say otherwise, his plate had been filled with warm, steaming potatoes and soaked with thick gravy. Todd attempted to smile at his mother, but he couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eyes. She didn’t seem to notice his silent protestations, which was most likely for the best. If Todd could get through this meal without creating a fuss, maybe he’d be able to slip into his room unnoticed and wait out the rest of the night without the company of his parents and their unbridled joy.

“Jeffrey, would you like to lead us in saying grace?” Todd’s mother asked, her eyebrows raised and mouth drawn into a gummy smile. 

“I would be glad to, Mother,” Jeffrey agreed, returning the smile, before extending his hands to either side. Jeffrey had been placed at the head of the table, with Todd’s father seemingly unbothered to be relegated to Jeffrey’s left side. Todd sat beside his mother, sticking out unnaturally from the triangle formed at the end of the table, making it uneven. Todd’s parents clasped Jeffrey’s hands before offering their free hands to Todd. Todd’s father had to reach over the salad bowl to do so, which he lamented with a huff of annoyance. Todd accepted his parents’ hands, looking down at his mashed potatoes and attempting to keep his elbow from plunging into the salad bowl. 

“Bless us, O Lord, and extend your heavenly graces unto us,” Jeffrey began, closing his eyes, while Todd’s parents followed suit. Todd kept his eyes open, his gaze fixed firmly on the small mountain of potatoes. “Lord, we thank you for this food, which you have graciously bestowed upon us. We thank you for allowing us to be together, as a family, as we enthusiastically await the celebration of the birth of our saviour, the living Christ. We thank you for our health, and for the many blessings we have received under your care, for they are plentiful, all of which are owed to our devotion to you, our Lord.” Todd saw his mother nodding in the corner of his eye. “Amen,” Jeffrey finished. Todd’s parents dropped his hands, and Todd quickly withdrew his arm to avoid brushing his sleeve against the food.

“Amen,” Todd and his parents repeated, though Todd couldn’t bring himself to say it with much conviction. For the past week, Todd’s faith had been at an all-time low.

“That was lovely, son,” Todd’s mother said, bringing her hands together in front of her innocently. Jeffrey smiled and nodded appreciatively. 

“You’ve taught me well,” Jeffrey replied diplomatically. Todd resisted the urge to scoff at his brother’s phony posturing. Despite their estrangement, Todd knew his brother well enough to know that -- despite his academic excellence -- he was, first and foremost, popular, for better and for worse. And the culture created in the tight bubbles of people who were admired, revered, even feared, well, it certainly wasn’t something Jeffrey would’ve been detailing in his weekly phone calls home. Todd had stumbled upon his brother and his brother’s friends, on more than one occasion, hiding out in the storage shed that Todd had claimed as his personal sanctuary, bottles of spirits and packs of cigarettes in their hands. As far as Todd remembered, underage drinking wasn’t one of the four virtues they’d been taught in Catholic summer school. 

“And you’ve always been an excellent learner,” Todd’s father added with a wink. It was all so sappy and saccharine that it nearly made Todd nauseous. Todd shuffled his fork around his plate, picking at the pile of potatoes carelessly.

“Todd,” Jeffrey said, snapping Todd’s attention away from the spiral pattern of gravy he’d created by drawing his fork through the mound. 

“Hm?” Todd hummed in response, keeping his lips pressed together.

“I-” Jeffrey cleared his throat, momentarily breaking eye contact with Todd. “I heard about… your friend.” Todd felt his face blanch. He didn’t want to talk to Jeffrey about Neil. Not now. Not ever. “I just wanted to say, well… I’m sorry for your loss.” It was clear that Jeffrey was out of his comfort zone. Todd could empathize with that. Still, he was in no mood to continue that conversation, so he merely hummed in agreement again before going back to dragging his fork through his mashed potatoes.

“Todd,” his mother chastised. “Say thank you to your brother.” Todd lifted his head, eyebrows raised slightly at the absurdity of her demand. She met his gaze with the stern yet seemingly tryingly contrite expression that she wore whenever she disciplined her children, and Todd was quick to relent, opening his mouth to deliver a quick thank you to his brother for having the good-heartedness to force Todd to think about Neil again.

“It’s alright, Mother,” Jeffrey interjected. Todd met his gaze, hoping his surprise at Jeffrey’s interruption didn’t read on his face. “He doesn’t need to thank me. I was just- trying to be courteous, is all.” Jeffrey nodded to himself in a way that almost would’ve seemed awkward had it been anyone else doing it, and went back to eating. Todd couldn’t help but notice the way that Jeffrey’s mannerisms changed when he was talking to him, like for once in his life he wasn’t sure what to say. Todd felt a sense of satisfaction at the thought.

“Such a tragedy,” Todd’s mother said, revealing that the subject was not going to be neatly dropped. Todd’s shoulders tensed up, and he slowly let his eyelids close, as he began to feel his heart speeding up. “Really, it’s worrying that they even let such a teacher into that school in the first place. Is that the kind of care and attention that we’re paying for?”

“Exactly, darling. Surely, someone in the staff must have noticed this man’s bizarre teaching techniques. Why did no one speak up?” Todd’s father added, his cheek full of potatoes.

“There’s a phenomenon called the bystander effect,” Jeffrey chimed in, his gaze directed toward Todd, trying to get Todd’s attention, as though he was attempting to change to topic for Todd’s sake and wanted Todd to notice it. Todd felt a brief swell of gratitude for his brother’s effort, but wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of acknowledging it. “It’s an idea that essentially means that, unless they are told explicitly that they should, most people do not treat other people as their responsibility. Someone could witness a medical emergency happening on the side of the road, and most people wouldn’t think to pull over and help unless someone waved them over. Psychology, I suppose.”

“That is fascinating, son,” Todd’s father stated supportively. They had taken the bait, it seemed. “Did you learn that in your business psychology class?” 

“Yes. It’s quite fascinating stuff. And my professor, Dr. Kepner, he’s brilliant.” Todd was only half-listening now, perfectly fine not to be involved in the discussion as long as it meant they weren’t discussing Neil.

“Teachers,” Todd’s mother remarked, “they really make all the difference.” Todd squeezed his eyes shut again and brought his hands up to his face. “The staff at Welton really should understand that by now.”

“I’m sure they’ve reevaluated their hiring policies, Mother. See, at my school-” Jeffrey tried again, but Todd’s mother delicately raised her hand to silence him.

“You know, David, we really should call them to confirm. Don’t you agree?” Her face was pinched up with its standard indignation that accompanied discussions of irresponsibility.

“Fine by me, darling. Better to be too cautious than not cautious enough, after what happened,” Todd’s father nodded along to his own statement.

“Oh, Jeffrey, dear, you should’ve seen the funeral. You could see how ashamed the parents were. How angry they were that no one did anything to prevent that tragedy. And everyone there knew how the boy died, of course. Imagine how they must’ve felt!” Todd’s mother was getting herself worked up, her face starting to turn pink. Todd wanted to snap back, to tell her to imagine how Neil must’ve felt to make the decision he did, but instead he dug the balls of his hands into his face and tried to block all of it out.

“They couldn’t even have a wake, the state the body was in. They say he shot himself,” Todd’s father added in a whisper, like it was a piece of gossip. Todd could feel his pulse thrumming in his ears.

“It’s downright irresponsible .” Todd’s mother loved that word. “I won’t stand for it. Imagine if that man had gotten his hands on our Jeffrey, instead of this Perry boy!”

“His name is Neil,” Todd whispered through his teeth, the sound not loud enough to register over his mother’s fluttering anger. Todd didn’t bother addressing the fact that “that man” had “gotten his hands” on Todd, whatever that meant, yet his mother still seemed more bothered by the possibility of it having happened to Jeffrey. It wasn’t worthy of comment.

“Now, Maggie. Our son would never make the choice that boy made. Our Jeffrey is a good Christian, and he knows what the Lord has told us about self-slaughter,” Todd’s father replied calmly. Todd felt his stomach drop. He squeezed his eyelids shut even tighter, feeling his heart throb in his chest as he silently begged his mother to abandon the subject.

“The Perrys are Christians! Now, they aren’t Catholics, but all of us are cut from the same cloth, David. That boy committed that act, knowing full well that it was a sin. What on Earth could that Keating have said to him that would drive someone to condemn themselves to hell -”

“Shut up!” Todd shouted, hands tightly grasping the edge of the table. Jeffrey, Todd’s mother, and Todd’s father all looked at him, eyes wide, like they hadn’t considered that he might be capable of creating a noise of that volume. “Shut up. D-Don’t say that about him. Neil isn’t-” Todd felt his lips quivering, his hands beginning to tremble. “Neil didn’t- He’s…” Todd inhaled sharply through his mouth. “He didn’t do anything wrong- he was…” Todd quickly realized that he had nothing to say. He didn’t know what Neil had been thinking. He didn’t have even the slightest inkling of what had been going on inside Neil’s head. All he knew was that his parents were wrong. “No. Just- Just sh-shut up!” 

The room went completely silent. Todd’s heaving breath and the sound of his mother’s fork clattering against her plate as Todd’s whole family stared at him in shock seemed for one moment in time to be the only sounds in the universe. No one moved a muscle. That was, until Todd released his grip on the table, more silverware clattering as he let up the pressure, and stormed out of the room, for once in his life not caring that his family was staring at him as he left.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Todd’s parents had given up on getting into his bedroom even more quickly than he’d anticipated. After he stormed off, he’d made a beeline for his room, after snagging something from a cabinet in the family room, went inside, and locked the door. Once he’d left the dining room, the anger that had seared through him seemed to have settled into a heavy, suffocating despair. Despair that Neil was dead, that Todd would never truly know him, that if his parents were right about God that Neil was being punished for his decision, that Neil was dead, that Todd would never be worth a full six-dollars to his parents, that Neil was dead, that Mr. Keating was being blamed, that Neil was dead, that Neil was dead, that Neil was dead. 

Todd bit his lip as hard as he could, before remembering how Neil lectured him on it, his face lined with genuine care and concern despite his joking tone. Todd felt something in him sinking as he realized that even that had become another painful reminder of Neil. He opened his jaw in a start, releasing his lip from between his teeth. He stayed in that position, jaw slightly agape and eyes wide, barely breathing, until a tear rolled down his cheek. And once one tear came, the floodgates were open. 

Todd lowered himself onto his bed, sinking against the mattress as soon as it made contact with his body. He grabbed at the stack of pillows beside him, seeking anything that could muffle the violent sobs that seemed to be pummeling through him. Within moments, the pillow he pressed against his face was damp, but still he held it closer to himself, feeling his body trembling harshly, as though he was no longer in complete control of it. Todd’s chest heaved as his open mouth pressed wetly against the fabric of his pillowcase, agony escaping through his parted lips. He coughed and sputtered and choked and wept, clinging to his pillow like a lifeline, curling his knees up to his chest like he could make himself small enough that he’d disappear, just like he’d longed for as a child.

Of course, Todd didn’t disappear. He slowly, steadily, began to surface from beneath the ocean of tears that seemed to have pulled him down to its depths in a relentless whirlpool. His lungs began to fill with air again. His wet sobs began to dry out. What Todd was left with, yet again, was silence. Stillness. Emptiness. For a moment, that emptiness felt almost peaceful. 

And of course, that was when Todd’s parents knocked on his door.

“Toddy?” His mother chirped, her voice unsteady. “Are you alright?” Todd hadn’t planned on responding, but when another loud knock sounded through the room, he attempted a reply.

“M’fine,” he muttered, his face still pressed into his pillow.

“What did he say?” Todd’s father whispered outside the door.

“He said he’s fine,” replied Todd’s mother. Todd exhaled slowly through his mouth, shifting slightly to wipe his running nose. “Honey,” she addressed him again, “you’re not-” She tutted again, drumming her foot on the wood flooring. “You’re not feeling, uhm…?” Todd could see where she was going. He wasn’t willing to fill in the blank for her, though. “Well, you’re not planning on doing anything-”

“Doing what?” Todd replied dryly, unsure whether he’d said it loud enough for his mother to hear. She tutted impatiently again.

“You know what I’m referring to!” she snapped. Todd’s grip on his pillow tightened once more. He made up his mind not to respond, not even if she kicked the damn door down.

“Todd, answer your mother,” Todd’s father added sternly. Todd remained silent, pursing his lips. “Or there will be serious consequences.”

“Fine,” Todd muttered, feeling nothing, no thrill, or even fear, as he openly defied his parents. He heard his father huff, before beginning to speak again, and cutting himself off before he’d even completed a word. Todd’s mother knocked on the door once more, slower and more firmly, and rattled the knob in her hand. But after less than a minute, Todd heard the two of them walking back down the stairs, grumbling to each other under their breath.

Once Todd was certain they were gone, he began to slowly, shakily rise to his feet. Near the doorway, he had unceremoniously abandoned the bottle of scotch that he’d stolen from the liquor cabinet in the family room. Beside it, a glass cup that he’d only seen used by his father’s fanciest house guests. Todd wasn’t much of a drinker. Not anymore, at least. But there had been a time, right at the beginning of his stay at Balincrest, when Todd had relied on stolen swigs of liquor to numb the feeling of being so completely unwanted everywhere he went. It had become a habit, though he’d still never gotten used to the flavor. 

Todd uncapped the bottle, pouring it carelessly into the glass until it was nearly spilling over the edges. He sniffled and wiped his eyes, blinking harshly to try to rid them of the tears that were clinging to his lashes. He needed to forget, to ease into some other world, one where nothing was quite real, so nothing could quite reach him. Where nothing could hurt him. Todd sat down on his windowsill, ignoring the golden liquid dribbling down his arm as it sloshed over the edges of the cup. He looked down at the ground below, trying to estimate the length of the drop. Twenty feet? Thirty? 

The image of his own body falling, flailing, colliding against the ground, took root in Todd’s mind. The same way it had when he and Neil stood atop the roof, and Todd worried that the racing winds would pitch him over the edge. It seemed so real, so vivid. The air whipping around him, the crunch of his body against the frozen dirt below, the sudden silence. He stared and stared at the spot directly below the window, afraid to move, afraid to even breathe. 

He could do it. He could open the window, throw himself through, and plummet to the ground below. What would he be missing? Jeffrey’s second valedictorian speech? His parents reminding him at every turn that he was completely and utterly insignificant? It would be easy. Open the window, fall. It would be as easy as pulling the trigger on a gun. 

But, no. No. It must’ve been only twenty feet. That seemed right. Only twenty feet. That wasn’t far enough, no. It wouldn’t work. There was no point in doing it if it wasn’t going to work. Then he’d be mangled, maybe even paralyzed, and where would that leave him? No, it wouldn’t work. Todd was certain it wouldn’t work.

Of course, Todd was also a coward. 

He took a swig of the scotch. His esophagus burned as it went down. 

Neil Perry had been dead for a week. 6,113 days before, 117 days during, and 7 days after. After. The one number that would keep on counting.

Todd took another swig.

He went to bite his lip again, before he reminded himself that he couldn’t, not anymore. His hands found something he’d left in his pocket. A pack of cigarettes that Charlie had covertly handed to him during the funeral. At least it would give him something to do with his mouth. Something that reminded him of Charlie more than it did of Neil.

Todd fumbled with the package before producing a single cigarette and placing it carefully between his lips. He scanned the room, looking for the matchbook he’d won from a carnival booth years ago, and which had sat unused for many years since. Once he caught sight of it and rose to his feet to retrieve it, he realized he’d need to open the window. 

For a moment, he froze, before he slowly turned back and unlatched the lock. Carefully, he pushed the window open, goosebumps immediately rising on his exposed skin as the chill of the December air gusted into the room. The fall looked further, somehow, with the window open. Todd ignored it. 

After several failed attempts, he managed to light the cigarette, placing it between his lips and taking a long draw, the way the poets had taught him to. Though he still couldn’t help the dry coughing that followed, he’d gotten more accustomed to the feeling of ash in his lungs. He drank another sip of scotch and tried to forget the smell of smoke on Neil’s skin after a night in the cave, as he brushed his thumb across Todd’s bleeding lip. 

Another swig. Another drag. 

The room was freezing now, but Todd hardly noticed, even as he began to shiver. Todd remembered Neil shivering after he’d given up his coat, and how his smile never dropped even when his teeth began to chatter. 

Swig. 

Todd wanted to fall. Not to jump, no, but for the whirling winds to pull him through the opening and hurl him to the ground. No more agency than a leaf caught in a breeze. No more responsibility for where he fell.

Falling from a window wasn’t a sin.

Swig. Drag. Cough-

Knock .

One at first, uncertain. Then more. 

“Todd?” 

Jeffrey.

“Todd, would you let me in?” No. Todd didn’t want to talk to him about Neil. Not now. Not ever.

“No.” 

“Come on, Todd.” 

Swig. Cough.

“No.” Louder.

Footsteps retreated away from the door. Todd let out a sigh. But as soon as Todd had begun to release the tension that gripped him at the moment of Jeffrey’s arrival, a scratching sound against the outside of his door grabbed his attention. Todd lowered his brows, trying to identify the sound. The moment he did, his features contorted into a grimace.

“Stop it,” he complained, but he knew Jeffrey wouldn’t. The two had the same locks on their childhood bedroom doors. And, unfortunately, Jeff had learned how to pick them, with a near one-hundred-percent success rate. Before Todd could try to persuade him further, the door swung open, revealing Jeffrey, bent over to the height of the doorknob. He straightened up, putting his hands on his hips and raising his eyebrows questioningly. Todd must’ve been quite a sight, curled up in his window well, with his drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

“Are you drinking whisky out of a cup?” Jeffrey asked, standing in the doorway. “What, too fancy to drink it out of the bottle?”

“You do it all the time,” Todd grumbled in response, noticing that it was much harder than usual to get the words out.

“I’m in college,” Jeffrey explained. “You’re sixteen.”

“Seventeen,” Todd said coldly, looking away from Jeffrey.

“What?”

“I’m seventeen,” Todd repeated, resentment settling in his chest at the reminder of just how little attention his brother truly paid to him. 

“Oh.” Jeffrey put his hands in his pockets, looking at Todd with an emotion that Todd couldn’t decipher. “Right. Right, I’m sorry. You’re seventeen.” Todd exhaled sharply and took another drag from the cigarette.

“You don’t even know me, Jeffrey,” Todd slurred, blinking hard to try to clear the haze that had settled over him.

“Since when do you call me ‘Jeffrey?’” He interjected.

“You don’t know me!” Todd was nearly shouting now. “You don’t know- you don’t know anything about me! So…” Todd inhaled sharply, trying to keep down the liquor that swirled in his stomach. “So stop trying to help me.” Jeffrey took a slow breath, in and out, and shook his head.

“You shouldn’t be drinking,” he said, still standing with his hands in his pockets in the doorway.

“They won’t even notice,” Todd grumbled, resting his arms against his knees in the windowsill. Jeffrey sighed again, sounding like a parent already. Todd wondered when his brother had stopped being a kid. Or if he ever really had been. Jeffrey walked through the doorway, closing the door behind him, and sitting down on Todd’s bed. He was facing away from Todd, though whether it was for Todd’s comfort or his own, Todd wasn’t sure. 

“Listen, what Mother and Father were saying earlier-” Jeffrey started.

“I don’t… want to- to talk about it,” Todd waved his hand dismissively, taking another sip and ignoring the burning in his stomach.

“They shouldn’t have said that. It was inconsiderate. But, you know how they are about their beliefs, and if you just storm off, of course they’re gonna-” 

“So I shouldn’t e-even be upset?” Todd interrupted again.

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Jeffrey defended. 

“Yeah, it is,” Todd argued back, feeling like a petulant toddler and lacking the reservations to behave any differently.

“What I’m trying to say is you can talk to me. You know you can talk to me, Toddy.” Jeffrey turned to face Todd, his eyes wide and expectant, and reminding Todd of how he’d looked when he was much younger. Todd looked away and blinked the stinging out of his eyes.

“Leave me alone,” Todd muttered, looking out the window into the inky nothingness. He took another drag from his cigarette, trying to muffle the sound as he began to cough. He didn’t want to look like an inexperienced kid. He was tired of Jeff seeing him that way.

“You’re my brother,” Jeffrey said, moving closer to where Todd was sitting. 

“If I tell you I’m not gonna off myself, will you leave?” Todd snapped, the warmth of the liquor in his stomach making his frustration burn much hotter. “Because I’m- I’m not gonna. I… just don’t want you here. Okay?” 

“Jesus, Todd,” Jeffrey breathed, looking away again.

“I said, ” Todd tried, “I’m not going to.” 

“I know what you said.” Jeffrey huffed again, crossing his arms. “Will you just- just talk to me? Damn it, Todd- please?” Todd furrowed his brow in suspicion. Part of him felt like his parents may have sent Jeffrey in to talk to him, but the majority of him knew that they simply didn’t care enough to do so. Jeffrey was here because he wanted to be, and if he wanted to be, then maybe Todd could talk. 

“I don’t-” Todd started, coughing again. “I don’t know what I’m s’pposed to say.”

“Anything is fine,” Jeffrey reassured, taking a seat on the floor in front of Todd. Todd didn’t like it. He wished Jeff would move back to the bed, where Todd couldn’t see the pitying look on his face.

“Like-” Todd began again, “do I say I’m sad? I’m sad.” 

“Okay,” Jeffrey said, his voice warm and familiar. “You’re sad. What else?”

“Um-” Todd hiccuped. “I’m drunk.”

“I can see that,” Jeffrey replied, with a hint of a smile on his face. Todd felt something in him stop resisting, felt it snap against the weight of whatever it is that exists between brothers. 

“He just-” Todd said, “It’s just- It doesn’t make- any sense. He- he was f- fine - I- I thought he was fine- and I-” Todd stammered, raising his hands aimlessly and sloshing his drink onto his palm. 

“Your friend?” Jeffrey asked.

“My-” Todd wasn’t sure what word should follow. “Yeah.” Jeffrey exhaled loudly again. Todd stared at the glass in his hand, attempting to evaluate whether he could manage another swallow. 

“Mm,” Jeffrey hummed contemplatively, adjusting how he was sitting on the hardwood floor. He reached forward, taking the cigarette from Todd's hand, lifting the corner of the rug, and putting it out on the hardwood floor.

“It doesn’t make any sense. I don’t- I… I don’t understand,”  Todd muttered, attempting to dry the sheen of liquor from his lips.

“You don’t have to,” Jeffrey replied simply. Todd turned to look at him, feeling his chest tighten, his face fixed up sourly, as though Jeffrey had personally insulted him. He did have to. He couldn’t simply accept that he understood nothing and move on from Neil’s death, as though it was predictable. As though it made sense. Todd could’ve tried to explain that to his brother. But if Jeffrey didn’t understand, then it would be no use trying to explain it to him. Instead, Todd just wanted him out. 

“I’m gonna sleep now, Jeff,” Todd announced, clumsily rising to his feet and teetering toward his bed. Jeffrey stood up, arms extending toward Todd, spotting him in preparation for him to fall. Todd recoiled slightly from his brother, and Jeffrey took a step back, pulling his hands back toward himself defensively. 

“Oh,” Jeffrey replied uncertainly, his eyebrows furrowed. “Alright.” He watched Todd closely as Todd lowered himself into his bed and dragged a hand across his face. Todd didn’t want to be watched. He wanted to be left alone. 

“G’night,” Todd said declaratively, lying down on his mattress and rolling to face the wall. He felt the contents of his stomach sloshing uncomfortably but shut his eyes tightly and willed himself to ignore it.

“You sure you’re okay?” Jeffrey asked, no longer in Todd’s field of view but almost certainly still wearing the same expression of slightly condescending concern. 

“I’m tired,” Todd grumbled, his voice muffled by his pillow.

“Okay,” Jeffrey said. Todd waited for the sound of his footsteps leaving the room, but it didn’t come. After much longer than Todd anticipated, Jeffrey finally relented. “Night,” he said, before walking out of the room and closing the door behind him. 

“Mm,” Todd drowsily replied, rolling over onto his back to mitigate the burning traveling up his throat. He knew that Jeffrey hadn’t meant to upset him. And, in a sense, his brother had been right. Talking about it had eased the weight a bit, if only for a moment. Surely that was better than nothing. That idea gave Todd a small sliver of hope, which he tucked away in the back of his mind. Maybe talking about Neil would allow him to preserve the pieces he had left of him, to avoid losing him completely. 

That idea, though the scotch certainly hadn’t hurt, finally allowed Todd to do something he’d been resisting for days. Something he’d been too afraid to attempt. He slept. 

And as he slept, he dreamed.

The first thing Todd registered was a simple one. He couldn’t move. Darkness stretched endlessly in all directions, weighing against Todd’s body like thick smoke, pinning him in place. He strained and struggled in an attempt to raise his hands to shield himself from the darkness, but he quickly realized he couldn’t feel his arms at all. His head was swimming, and he tried to blink to clear it, but found that even that had become impossible.

In front of him, in the seemingly endless expanse of darkness, something began to shift. Todd’s breathing quickened as he strained his eyes.

A figure appeared before him. Shirtless. Facing away. Head bowed toward the darkness. Todd felt his heart skip a beat. He’d know those freckled shoulders anywhere. A mixture of sorrow and relief flooded him, finally gaining feeling in his body again as his jaw fell slightly open and he felt the all too familiar sting of tears welling up in his eyes. His chin quivered as he tried to find his voice, to break the oppressive silence and reach across the darkness. 

It was him. He was right there. 

Before Todd had the time to speak, or attempt to move, the figure raised his head. A crown of briars sat atop his skull like a halo. Todd recognized the crown immediately as the one Neil had worn the night of the play. Though it looked somehow sharper, more angular. That wasn’t part of the dream. Todd furrowed his brow, eyes squinting slightly as he tried to get a better look through the darkness. In that instant, quickly, harshly, the figure inhaled. 

Blood -- heavy, dark red drops of blood -- began to ooze from the halo on Neil’s head. Thin trails of red streaked down the sides of his cheeks, ran down the back of his neck, and matted his hair. Todd couldn’t scream. He felt his throat aching, felt his chest seize up with exertion, but no sound came out. The figure was shaking now. Todd tried desperately to close his eyes, but his muscles wouldn’t obey him. He couldn’t look away, as the blood began to flow faster and faster, thin trickles of red turning into dark red rivers across Neil’s pale back. Todd could feel himself sobbing, could feel the jagged rise and fall of his chest and stuttering of his heart. Red seemed to consume everything Todd could see, staining the black void with its gore. A world painted in blood. 

Amid the sea of red, just as it had in Todd’s dream months ago, the figure, Neil, began to turn. 

No . Todd felt his mouth forming the word, but all he could hear was the ringing in his ears. No, no, no, no, no.

Inch by inch, unnaturally, like he was being moved by an inhuman force, the bloodstained figure turned toward Todd. Todd didn’t want to see him. Not like this. Not in the one way that would be worse than never seeing him again. Todd couldn’t breathe. He was suffocating, lungs full of blood. He was trapped, frozen, paralyzed, unable to escape the terror in front of him.

The figure’s face became visible as he completed his rotation. Grey, hollow, tear-stains cutting neat lines through the dark red mask. Still, unmistakably, it was Neil. Everything about the figure was Neil, except his eyes. His eyes, his beautiful brown eyes, were now hollow, vacant, brutal. Todd tried again to scream, to wake himself up, but only felt the tang of iron against his tongue. Neil’s -- or whatever this was -- mouth began to open, his jaw unhinging robotically, the bloodied skin of his cheeks stretching like rubber to make space.

Todd’s muscles tensed in terror as he waited for a blood-curdling scream to come from Neil’s mouth, a scream of grief and horror and agony and everything that Neil must have been feeling before he died. Sorrow, anguish, heartbreak. The ringing in Todd’s ears only got louder. But out of Neil’s mouth, like a recording playing back in a tape player, came Todd’s own voice. Todd’s own screams. 

“Neil!” A wail of despair, shouted into the snow. Heavy tears flowed from the vacant shell of Neil’s eyes, his expression frozen. “Neil! NEIL!” Echoing, ringing, throbbing inside Todd’s skull, getting louder and louder, the red that surrounded him turning darker and darker, heavier and heavier, suffocating him, burying him, trapping him, until-

Todd sat straight up in his bed. He gasped for air, hands clawing for his face, his neck, his chest. Strangled sobs began to rise from the back of his throat, wetness flooding his mouth with each cough, like he really had been drowning beneath an ocean of Neil’s blood. 

Neil.

Neil.

Oh, god, Neil.

Todd gripped his hair, balling his fists so tightly that he distantly worried he’d rip handfuls of it out. He breathed loudly through his mouth, rocking himself back and forth on his small mattress, tears soaking the front of his pajamas. His head was throbbing, the beginnings of a brutal hangover mixing with the loss of oxygen from his ragged breathing.

Todd tried and tried to calm himself down, to soothe the aching and burning that had consumed every inch of his body and mind, but it was no use. He threw off his covers, arms quivering like leaves in the wind, and rose to his feet. He stumbled into the bathroom, slamming the door closed and allowing himself to fall to the floor, his knees slamming harshly against the tile. Todd didn’t care. He rose to his knees and gripped the edge of the toilet seat, unable to choke back the vomit that rose up his esophagus. The liquor burned twice as much going up as it had going down. Todd’s stomach clenched like a towel being wrung over a sink, and he choked up what remained of his dinner the night before. The scent of the toilet bowl only made him more nauseous, a sheen of sweat beginning to bud on his forehead. He spat weakly to clear the taste from his mouth, before collapsing back to the ground.

A small groan escaped his parted lips, and with it, the rest of his strength left him. He had no energy left to move, and resigned himself to lying still against the cold bathroom tile. The coolness, at least, was soothing, as Todd felt sweat continue to rise on the surface his skin, his palms turning clammy. His breath began to slow as the panic wore off, and after what could’ve been hours, or what could’ve been mere minutes, Todd rose to his feet. 

He gripped onto the edge of the sink for balance as his knees wobbled beneath him. Seeing himself in the mirror, his eyes swollen from crying and his skin looking far paler than usual, Todd could hardly recognize himself. He looked nothing like the reflection he’d stared at for what felt like hours when he’d first dreamt about Neil. When Neil had still been alive. Maybe Todd was nothing like that person anymore. 

With shaking hands, he turned on the water, letting the cool stream wash the sweat from his palms. He cupped his hands together as tightly as he could manage and rose them to his face, splashing cold water across his cheeks. He splashed his face again and again, until his teeth were chattering from the chill, but no amount of water could wash away the image of the crown of blood around Neil’s head, or the vacant look in his eyes, drained of color, drained of life. 

Was that the memory Todd would be left with? The version of Neil that would follow him. The version that would haunt him? Todd couldn’t even picture Neil’s face without his mind pulling him back to the sea of blood, the thorny briars, the tear streaks down Neil’s cheeks. The warmth of the dream that Todd had once dreaded, the dream that had become Todd’s greatest wish after Neil’s death, had been replaced by a monstrosity. A shell. A horror that was wearing Neil as a mask. His quiet moments, and gentle touches, and whispered greetings that Todd could only access in his dreams, had been overwritten, like a typewriter blotting out a mistake in dark ink. 

Maybe dreaming of Neil had been a mistake. Maybe, somehow, Todd was being punished. Punished for wanting something he could never have, punished for allowing himself to believe he could have him anyway. Maybe this nightmare had been a sign, a warning. Maybe holding onto Neil would mean holding onto that. Maybe Jeffrey had been right that Todd didn’t have to understand everything. Maybe that agony of that dream had only been a glimpse of what Todd would feel if he clung on too tightly to the shards of Neil Perry. 

Maybe the best thing Todd could do was to forget. Forget Neil’s lopsided impish smile, and his unfulfilled potential, and his remarkable talent, and his reading voice when he was focused, and the way he snored like a grandpa, and how empty the room they’d shared sounded without it. Forget that he’d loved him. Or thought he’d loved him. Forget that he’d known him at all. Maybe forgetting would free him.

Maybe forgetting would free them both.

It would be no easy feat, that was certain. But Todd could forget 117 days. 117 days out of thousands he’d already lived. Out of tens of thousands to come. 

He could try. At least he could try. 

Todd watched the cold water drip from the tip of his nose. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Todd Anderson watched as the water that had been dripping from his nose slowly came to a stop. He exhaled slowly and reached for the hand towel, blotting his skin dry and inhaling the familiar smell of the fabric softener.

The year was 1974. Todd Anderson was 31 years old. A newspaper editor. A husband. A father.

It had been over 15 years since Todd had first walked through the hallowed, haunted halls of Welton Academy. 

Neil Perry was dead. Long dead. Buried in a little cemetery in Vermont, 337 miles from Todd Anderson’s New York apartment. 

Todd sighed, still evaluating his aged face in the bathroom mirror, and stood up straight. He was in his pajamas, an old, stained t-shirt, and a pair of flannel pants. He was definitely due for a shave. Todd had no earthly idea what time it was, only that the sky had no traces of sunlight, the faint traces of light in the room coming from the slivers of moon that weren’t covered up by heavy clouds. 

Todd didn’t give himself time to think. He quietly closed the door to his too-small bathroom, tiptoed down the hallway, and found his jacket, buttoning it up to cover his less-than-presentable outfit. After shooting a glance back toward the bedrooms where his wife and children were sleeping, Todd tore his eyes away. He searched through the living room cabinets, scouring the junk drawer and the bookshelf, searching until he’d found what he needed. Todd tucked a folded map beneath his arm, a circle in pen drawn around his childhood home, and, not too far from that, another circle, drawn by his mother, around Welton Academy. In his hands, Todd held a pocket-sized notebook, one that he’d bought when he first moved to New York with Lenora, when he was still in the habit of jotting down his observations and thoughts about the world around him, though, even then, too afraid to write them into real poetry.

He searched for a blank page, scrawling a message on it in pencil, before tearing it out and depositing it on the kitchen counter. As soon as he started to second-guess himself, he quickly grabbed the keys to his car off a shelf beside the doorway and opened the door as quickly as he could without making the old hinges squeak. 

Todd was going back. To the place that housed the scattered pieces, the unanswered questions, the fragmented parts of a whole. He was going back for whatever he could find. Whatever scraps or clues he could find that allowed him to fill in some portion of this hollow, neglected silhouette of a memory. Forgetting wasn’t working. Forgetting, somehow, hurt even more than remembering. So, Todd was resolute. He was going to get some answers for once in his life. He was going to give himself a chance to understand. 

He was finally going to make good on a vow he’d made on that final day fifteen years ago. 

Todd Anderson was going to find Neil Perry.