Archive of Our Own ^beta

The Dean is speaking but Todd had tuned him out long ago. He never wanted to come to Welton. He doesn't understand why his parents believe he would be even half as impressive as his brother. No, that's not it. They understand that he will never be like his brother, but they still send him to Welton to tell others. He's attending the same school as his brother, surely, he must be even a shade as good then.

Jeffery Anderson—valedictorian, national merit scholar. Todd Anderson, Jeffrey's brother. It's alright, Todd thinks, that he will always be ‘Jeffrey's brother’. Sometimes, Todd wants to hate his brother. If he wasn't so great, so perfect, maybe Todd wouldn't have to live up to that. But, he also knows that Jeffery's a perfectly fine man and a perfectly fine brother. He makes an effort to talk to Todd, as much as Todd will let him anyway (which isn't a lot, but he tries), he's kind, charismatic, good at school, good at sports, good at life and really, Todd cannot blame him for being exactly who people have wanted him to be. Todd cannot be bitter that his brother can do what he wants to be able to do. And really, Todd is perfectly fine with anything that takes him out of the spotlight. He'll just keep his head down and get on with his life, like he always has.

A solid plan, if not for the unaccounted for variable that Neil Perry, his roommate, turns out to be. His roommate. Not even Nolan's comment about Todd having big shoes to fill invoke the same surety of doom as Neil Perry.

“I hear we're going to be roommates,” this boy tells him as he catches Todd under the tall arches of the corridor on the way to their room. His deep brown eyes present an intensity Todd isn't used to, especially when it is directed at him. He makes small talk, and for once, it's surprisingly bearable. Maybe it's how open and inviting Neil himself seems, like Todd isn't just another nuisance he has to deal with, like he actually wants to know things about Todd. He smiles with all his teeth, which Todd notices are just a little crooked, in a way that makes the smile that much more charming. His short brown hair sits so nicely against his forehead and his stately eyebrows arch just a little as he talks to Todd, and really, that's all he needs to understand that this boy in front of him is dangerous. 

When Todd reaches his room, somebody is leaning against the doorway. “Heard you got the new kid. Looks like a stiff,” the boy snickers as Todd tries to get in, past him. Noticing that Todd is the ‘stiff’ in question, the boy all but runs away with a muttered oops. The comment doesn't particularly bother him, he's not used to the attention but it's alright.

“Listen, don't mind Cameron. He's born with a foot in his mouth, you know what I mean?” Neil says, smiling. Todd does know what Neil means but he can't do much more than nod and starts about getting his things out.

One look is all Todd needs to see that he and Neil are about as different as can be, he would never be able to keep up with someone like that. The confident, self-assured way he talks to his friends, who are also loud and settled and familiar with each other, and really Todd shouldn't be surprised by this, they are friends after all, but they listen to each other. It feels like he's intruding, somehow.

Todd understands, theoretically, what friendship is. He's just not sure he's actually had friends. Sure, he'd had boys at Balincrest who would occasionally ask him for his notes, or pick him second to last for soccer, or nod at him in the hallways, but never boys who would ask him about his day, or share their secret handshakes with him, or listen to him when he speaks, or even wait enough for Todd to push his words out. He also understands why they never bother. He’s hard to be friends with. He isn't the most expressive, or confident, or the best at speaking. How mortifying for him to barely be able to get his words out, such simple words too—I’m Todd Anderson, nice to meet you—during introductions, at once ensuring that no one bothers with quiet, shy, simple Todd Anderson. It's alright. He understands. 

He tries, really, to be around people. It's just that he cannot fight the feeling that he's immediately doing something wrong the second he opens his mouth. It feels like he's drowning, and his stutters are desperate gasps of breath. He's always been like this. Soft-spoken, they would call him when he was a child. Then, as he grew up, the relative endearment of that term grew into disapproval before taking its final form of disdain. He wishes he were like the other boys, who could go up to people and start conversations and keep them going. Every time he tries to talk to someone, it feels like his throat is actively working against his need to get his words out. He feels disproportionately terrified when he has to exist in public, and it's stupid how clammy his hands get, how he can barely hear the other person over the sound of his own heart, and he knows how foolish he's being, he understands. He's being stupid, and he cannot do anything about it. He can recognize what's wrong, he cannot fix it—it feels like this is his whole life. 

He distantly notes that he would have to be around these people, Neil's friends, much more than he is comfortable with. They pile into Neil's bed and their desks as if they've been doing this their whole lives, which is, arguably, true. Immediately, the boy who gets onto Neil's bed starts smoking and shares his cigarette with Neil. Those two are the closest to each other, then. They make plans about a study group and Todd can only pretend he's busy setting up his desk set. He feels so out of place, and his skin itches with the urge to run away—where to, he doesn't know, but away from here. He's only at Welton because of his brother, he has no interest in such a place, and suddenly being thrown into the whirlwind these boys were was not helping. They mock the school’s “pillars” and largely ignore him, which he is mildly grateful for.

“Oh, I'm sorry, my name is Steven Meeks,” the boy with the glasses suddenly introduces himself. Before Todd can even fully turn around to acknowledge him, Neil leans forward and slaps him on the back as he says, “Oh yes, this is Todd Anderson,” as they exchange ‘nice to meet you's.

“Charlie Dalton,” the boy who's now comfortably spread himself out on Neil's bed tells him, with such a confident, almost arrogant smirk, that Todd feels almost like he'd been shocked by a low-voltage wire. Knox Overstreet, the one sitting near Todd's desk finally introduces himself and more pleasantries and handshakes are exchanged, which feel so awkward that Todd questions why they even bother with such things anymore. 

“Todd's brother was Jeffrey Anderson,” Neil adds, and goddamnit, why would he do that? No good reason to bring it up. The other boys ‘oh!’ around him, and someone adds that his brother was valedictorian, and national merit scholar, as if Jeffrey’s achievements weren't drilled into Todd’s head the moment he had a certificate or trophy to show for it. 

“Welcome to Hell-ton,” Steven says, trying to ease the tension Todd would assume, but he would also assume no one else can feel the unnecessary tension that he feels, so maybe, that's not what Steven is trying to do at all. Charlie says something about the school being tough, and the banter starts up again. They continue for a while, now passing a cigarette between them, until a knock interrupts them. Charlie hurriedly puts out the cigarette. Neil tells the person to come in, expecting another friend, but some strict looking man walks in. Todd notices how Neil's relaxed demeanour vanishes and is replaced by a straight spine. Everyone also stands up, until they're told to sit. Something about the sight of this man makes Todd's skin crawl. He seems entirely too hostile in a way Todd can't even explain, even though he's barely known this man for 10 seconds.

“Father, I thought you had gone,” Neil says. His voice cracks at ‘gone’. 

“Neil, I've just spoken to Mr. Noaln and I think you're taking too many extracurricular activities this year. I've decided you should drop out of the School Annual,” he says, with such disregard for Neil's obviously hurt expression, and without caring about how the temperature of the room seemed to have dropped ten degrees since he entered. He had so much authority over these boys, and even more so over his son, but all of it feels so undeserved to an outsider like Todd. It felt like someone like him didn't deserve to instil such fear in the people around him, it was just wrong.

Neil tries to defend his position but is called outside the room, and Todd can't help the sick feeling that grows in his stomach. He hasn't known any of these people for more than an hour and somehow feels connected to him because of their similarly disturbed reactions to Neil's father. Nobody really speaks, the awkwardness feels even worse than when they acknowledged Todd's presence. Finally, they head out and Neil looks so, so dejected while insisting it didn't matter, he doesn't give a damn anyway. It makes Todd sad in the oddest way. 

“So,” Neil starts casually, after dinner, when it was just the two of them in their room. “What did you think of my father?” 

Shit. It's not like Todd could explain the dread he felt around Mr. Perry to his son, who he had only met the very day. It's not like it made sense, anyhow, to say he thought Mr. Perry was a good father either, since the almost bitter expression on Neil's face after he'd left made it clear. Even though the question seems innocent enough, and the way Neil had asked was casual enough, the words and their delivery still held an undercurrent of something Todd couldn't name, almost like it was a test, and Todd hadn't even known there would be one. He flounders and pretends he's putting away his things for a few seconds before Neil speaks again.

“Todd, if you're gonna make it around here, you gotta learn to speak up. The meek might inherit the earth but don't make it into Harvard,” Neil sounds properly bitter, especially at the remark about Harvard, which Todd now safely assumes is a sore spot, before turning away and staring out the window from the radiator he was perched on. Todd feels like he understands Neil just a little better.

Todd's first day was exceedingly boring. All the teachers were similar in how soulless their lectures were. He wasn't generally good at school, but he wasn't quite terrible either, but listening to some of these teachers made him want to intentionally fail his classes for no reason other than to spite them. Of course, they would simply call him worthless and fail to recognize their role in not teaching the material properly, but sure, Todd could at least live with that knowledge privately than sit through one more minute of these god forsaken lessons. 

English, interestingly enough, proved to be his one respite. He's always liked English more than the other subjects, partly owing to the fact that he usually completed most of the assigned reading during the holidays, because it's not like he had many friends to enjoy his summers with, and his parents would rather not acknowledge him if they could help it. Even so, there was something nice about reading way too deeply into someone's else's thoughts instead of his own, if only for a few hours. But this year, they hadn't received any assigned reading, a fact he learned from Neil during lunch.

Their teacher, John Keating, enters the room whistling a tune Todd doesn't know the name of, and takes the class out of the classroom and teaches them about far-fetched ideas like ‘carpe diem’ and ‘Gather ye rosebuds while ye may’. He tells the class to call him ‘Oh Captain! My Captain!', as though they understand Walt Whitman's ways. His way of teaching, or rather, speaking is alluring, almost magnetic in its quality of capturing attention. He says the most undignified things but sounds so elegant when he does. He talks of how they would one day be food for worms, and how virgins should make most of their time. A bit on the nose, that one, Todd thinks. Seize the day, boys, make your lives extraordinary, Keating tells them, and he makes it sound so easy. 

Frankly, Todd doesn't quite know what to make of this strange man. Sure, he speaks of lofty ideals, living life with passion, and seizing the day, but Todd doesn't know if such a life will be possible, much less easy for someone like him. He's invited to trig study group that day, at the showers, where he can see the freckles that map constellations over Neil's shoulders, and he can't quite think. He declines, citing some history work. He feels a bit stupid, then, when he sits at his desk and writes ‘SEIZE THE DAY’ in his notebook, a bit like a child mimicking only the actions of the adults around him, without understanding the intentions behind what he's doing. He rips the page out and throws it away.

Keating's class on poetry has them ripping out Dr J Evans Pritchard, PhD's introduction from their copies of 500 Years of Verse. Keating tells them about how ‘poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for’. He tells them language was made to woo women. He tells them of these grand ideas, far away fantasies of thinking for themselves, and Todd? He so desperately wants to believe, he wants to be sucked into this wonderful Keating lays out in front of them, but he knows, he knows that he cannot. Not with the way he can never seem to meet his parents’ expectations, the way he cannot even speak to other humans, the way he feels things for other boys. No, Todd will never be able to live the way Keating tells them to, and it's only a fact he has to accept for himself.

The next morning, Neil discovers the Dead Poets Society while they look through Mr. Keating's old school annual. When questioned, Keating tells them about how it wasn't just ‘a bunch of guys, sitting around and reading poetry, Mr. Overstreet’, honey dripped from their tongues. The Dead Poets were dedicated to sucking the marrow out of life—spirits soared, women swooned, and gods were created—Keating’s words, not Todd's. The boys listened, encapsulated by their teacher's intoxicating words. Todd still wasn't certain how much honey he wanted dripping from his tongue, and if he even wanted to create gods in the first place. 

But Neil, oh, Neil was caught—hook, line, and sinker. Immediately after Keating left, he made plans about starting up the Society again. He looked so brilliant, standing there, talking about reconvening the society, so sure that they too could recreate the magic Keating spoke of. Charlie is immediately all for it, of course he is. The others take a bit more convincing, but it is done. Study group is used more to work out the logistics of how they will get to the cave where the meetings were supposed to be held in and back more than actual studying. 

Neil invites him, and Todd, predictably, declines. 

“Keating said that everybody took turns reading and I– I don't wanna do that,” he finally admits when further prodded by Neil.

“Gosh, you really have a problem with that, don't you?” Neil asks him. For once, Todd is surprised to find no judgement regarding this, only some curiosity as Neil tried to work out how to include Todd in this venture of theirs. 

“No, I–” Todd stutters slightly, “I don't have a problem, Neil. I just don't wanna do it, okay?”

“Alright.” Todd thinks for a moment that Neil finally gave up, understood Todd for who he really was. But really, he should've learned to expect the unexpected from this wonderfully unconventional Neil Perry because he immediately follows it up with, “What if you didn't have to read? What if you just came and listened?” 

“That's not how it works,” Todd reminds him.

“Forget how it works. What if they said okay?” 

“What? Are you gonna go up and ask them if—no, no.” Neil shrugs, and before Todd can stop him, he leaves with a muttered ‘I'll be right back’.

He's told, when they're getting ready for bed, that he's in. He's part of the Dead Poets Society. Somehow, as much as being part of a group inspires dread in him, there is something surprisingly warm about being included in something this undoubtedly exciting. 

The boys make their way to the Indian cave, with much excitement, and they don't immediately begin. They take their time settling in, gathering all the food they sneaked out, and generally making the cave feel more comfortable, and less like a cave in the middle of the night. Neil begins the meeting, reading Thoureau, as is custom.

“I went to the woods because I
wanted to live deliberately…
I wanted to live deep and suck
out all the marrow of life!
To put to rout all that was not life
And not when I came to die, discover
that I had not lived…”

Despite Todd's inhibitions—sitting in a chilly cave, surrounded by these boys who had integrated themselves into his life so quickly, with Neil Perry at the helm—he thinks he understands Keating’s words slightly better now. Todd has never been immune, per se, to Keating’s wondrous words, but he still couldn't let himself be fully swept away by the promises of living deliberately and sucking the marrow out of life. Not Neil, though. If anything, Todd would think Neil was the one most greatly impacted by their new English teacher. From what he has observed, Neil seems to be the de facto leader of the group. Not in any negative sense, of course not, but in the way that everyone looked to him for guidance and initiative. Sure, Charlie was also very confident, borderline brash, but he too seemed to let Neil set the course. Charlie was almost like a right hand man, while Neil was the celebrated leader. It works for them.

Everyone, except Todd, reads out some poem or tells some story, and he watches, captivated, as the words flow around them like good wine. Soon, Steven read out a poem, with a particularly good meter, that all the boys started chanting as they walked in circles around the cave and eventually back to Welton.

“Then I saw the Congo,/ Creeping thought he black/ Cutting through the forest/ With a golden track,” they all chanted, on the way back to the school grounds. 

Todd doesn't dare speak until he and Neil are safely back in their rooms. One: it feels almost blasphemous to just start talking after what happened at the cave, like he would taint the sanctity of the meeting if he just started speaking normally. Two: now that the adrenaline of being around so many people with so much energy had worn off, he felt drained of all energy. Neil however, seemed to have no such qualms, and chatted quietly, but incessantly, with the others as Todd brought up the rear. 

“So,” Neil begins, as they remove their coats. “What did you think of the Dead Poets Society, Todd?” He says his name like it matters, like Todd is the one he wants to hear from, even though there's no one else in the room he could've directed his question to. Somehow, this simple act makes Todd ache with something he cannot name. 

“Um. It—it was fun, actually. I, uh, I wasn't expecting it to be as fun as it was,” Todd manages, and is surprised that Neil doesn't just not interrupt him, but waits and actively listens to him as he struggles to convey simple sentiments. Then, Neil smiles at him. It was different from the other smiles he'd seen so far. It was smaller and softer, but no less genuine. Todd felt strangely proud of being the recipient of this particular smile of Neil’s.

“See? They didn't mind that you didn't read aloud. It's alright, you know?” 

Todd can hardly continue to keep looking at Neil. He feels surprisingly vulnerable at having his shortcomings not only acknowledged, but accepted, that it was alright he didn't read aloud, it was alright, it was alright. Especially coming from Neil, it felt like it mattered much more than if anyone else had said it. He tries not to dwell on why that is so.

“But gosh, wasn't it just incredible? Everyone running, and laughing, and just existing in that cave,” Neil flops down head-first on his bed, and lets out a deep sigh. In a moment, he turns so that he's facing Todd, who is sitting on his bed and asks him, “Do you like poetry? Like, outside of what we do in school or even in the Society?” 

That was not a question Todd had been expecting. 

“Well, uh, yes and no?” Neil looks at Todd, encouraging him to continue. “I can't say I have, uh, much experience with poetry outside of assigned reading. But, uh, I've always liked the poetry I could find. I mean, I suppose I've always liked English too, in that sense. Of course, even at Balincrest the teachers kinda sucked, but, uh, it was nice, the prose and poetry we've had. They had, uh, pretty– pretty words. Yeah,” Todd finishes lamely. He was surprised at how much he'd spoken, and to an extent, he can see this rightly written across Neil's face, too. 

Somehow, Neil's presence made him feel okay enough to actually talk, and share things about himself. Neil made it shockingly easy to say things, as unimportant they might be. It's scary, but also feels good to not have to tiptoe around all of his words—words which usually stuck to his teeth like toffee felt more like honey around Neil. Maybe this is what it means to have honey drip from your tongue. And again, Neil smiles at him, and stupidly, Todd's heart beats just a little bit faster. Shit, shit, shit, is all Todd can think. This was not good, no, not at all. He can't stand it any longer so he abruptly stands up and pretends he wants to go to bed and turns off the light. He's lying, of course, he somehow feels more awake now than he did just a few minutes ago. He doesn't sleep for a long time after that.

Todd doesn't have any meaningful experience with being part of a group of friends, but what he does have at Welton feels surprisingly nice. They sit together at breakfast, lunch and dinner, as much as possible. And even besides Neil, the others make him feel welcome in their own ways as he learns more about each of them. He's still fairly shy and quiet, but now he feels less like the universe will strike him down if he messes up at seeming “normal”. He even manages to make sarcastic remarks sometimes, which are surprisingly well received. It's unexpected, but it's nice. 

It's also nice having Neil as a roommate. He's clean, he's reasonably quiet when needed, and he doesn't ignore Todd. Despite trying to convince himself all his life that being ignored was good—nobody would talk to him then, he would be left alone, just like wants—it was only at not being ignored by Neil was Todd finally able to admit to himself that it actually wasn't all that nice to be ignored. Neil is always so kind to Todd, and each time it surprises him even though it really shouldn't. It's like, Neil, with just his presence, makes it easier for Todd to exist, for Todd to feel okay with the fact he exists. His heart still speeds up when Neil stands too close to him when they're trying to work out a trigonometry problem, or if their hands brush in the hallways, or if he catches Neil staring at him from across the classes they shared. And for some reason, Neil never looks away when Todd catches his eyes, only smiles. He never moves away when they're touching, and it warms Todd's heart, but also bothers him. 

Todd cannot begin to imagine how Neil would feel about these moments if he ever learned about his true nature. People don't come easily to Todd, especially understanding people. All his life, he's spent wondering why he felt like he always stood just slightly outside the circle people formed during conversations—the unspoken circle of normalcy. He was quiet when he shouldn't be, unable to understand things that seemed like second nature to his peers, interested in the “wrong things”, and generally incapable of ever fitting in. And worst of all, he could never bring himself to look at women the way he was expected to. People had told him that he's a late bloomer, that he'd grow out of it, but he never particularly believed them, and now, he knows why. He'd known that his preferences were not acceptable when there had been a rumour in Balincrest of some boy trying to kiss his friend and being beaten up for it. He remembers having the very same urges to kiss the actors in movie posters, except instead of wanting to kiss the women, he'd never been able to get the men out of his mind. He remembers throwing up after hearing this news, that just because this boy wanted to kiss another boy (like Todd himself), people felt he deserved all that violence and more. There was something exceedingly cruel in that.

Now, he fears that everytime he declines “having a girl”, or says he isn't interested in women, people can somehow feel Todd’s queerness, at least subconsciously. It feels like his every stuttered ‘no’, and aversion to looking at the boys in lockers rooms is his very own scarlet letter that people can use to identify his deviance. He finds it etched in his fingertips, this unacceptable otherness, that inevitably colours his fingerprints he leaves behind on whatever he touches. He wishes Neil weren't so comfortable with him, like he was somehow tricking this poor, kind, and unfortunately beautiful boy. No matter what, he cannot think of Neil that way. There is nothing special about Todd, Neil is kind to everyone, so there is no reason to think he'd be any kind of an exception. No, Neil deserves better, and Todd will never be better.

But still, when it's just them in their room, they talk and talk, about the most random, mundane things. Neil would ask him what his favorite color was. Neil would tell him about the diabolical fart Hager had let out during class, and Todd would tell Neil about the K+S initials carved out under his desk in chemistry. Todd didn't even realise it was possible for him to feel so free around a person that he could say the most boring, useless things to, and still be taken seriously, and even better, have other boring, useless things told to him. Sometimes Neil asks him about interesting things, like, “Do you believe we have a purpose in this world, Todd?”, or “Do you believe in God, Todd?”. And each time, Neil says name, Todd, Todd, Todd, with so much purpose, like it matters that Todd answers the question, like it matters that Todd is the one he is talking to. 

Sometimes, when Todd feels particularly indulgent, he tells himself that Neil would rather not ask anyone but Todd these, not necessarily personal, but revealing questions to. Sometimes, these delusions feel like the only thing holding his sanity together.  Of course, Todd tries to answer the best he can, but each time, he feels his answer is unsatisfactory, and each time this concern is raised, Neil assures him, “There are no wrong answers, Todd. I wanted to know your thoughts, which is why I asked. I promise, anything you tell me is more than good enough for me.” It feels easier to talk around Neil. He didn't think it was possible to feel such a way around someone else.

Keating’s classes continue to be just as novel and exciting as the first day and the textbook-ripping day. It's wonderful to have a teacher he actually likes, respects, and who actually teaches well for his favourite subject. He finds himself less and less opposed to the grander themes behind Keating’s classes as he settles down better. But, of course, just when he thought things were going well, Keating had to throw a wrench in that.

It started out as any normal class, as normal as Keating’s classes could be, but normal. They had been discussing Shakespeare. But somewhere towards the end, his teacher walks up to his desk and stands on it, asking them why he did so. Charlie guesses that it is to feel taller, but is wrong. It is to see things with a different perspective, Keating tells him. He invites the students to also ‘come see for yourselves’. Neil, of course, is the first to take up the offer, followed by Charlie, and slowly, the entire class takes turns standing on the teacher's desk. Todd is one of the final ones to go, and the bell rings right as he climbs up. Keating, just before leaving, throws the terrible wrench in what was Todd's peaceful existence up until then. 

“Now, in addition to your essays, I would like you to compose a poem. An original work.” Everyone groans, and he goes on to make it worse. “That's right. You have to deliver it aloud in front of the class on Monday. Bonne chance, gentlemen.” 

Todd stares, frozen in his spot on the desk. He looks at Keating helplessly. 

“Mr. Anderson, don't think that I don't know that this assignment scares the hell out of you, you mole,” he quips at him before actually leaving. 

What the fuck. What the actual fuck, is all Todd can think. Why the fuck did Keating have to call him out so publicly like that? Fine, he knows Todd's weakness, he knows what Todd's problem is, so why can't he just keep it to himself? What the fuck.

He spends the rest of the day in a haze. Sure, he may read more poetry than the average Welton student but he's never actually tried writing one of his own. It's like asking him to cook the mashed potatoes he eats everyday. Just because he can tell if it's cooked well or not, and might even know the recipe to make one doesn't actually translate into him being able to make edible mashed potatoes. And to deliver it aloud in front of the whole class? He might as well throw himself into the lake to contract hypothermia so he has an excuse to skip that class. He enjoys Keating’s class and immensely respects him, but today was absolutely uncalled for. 

That day, all Todd can think about is what his poem will be about. The others are also concerned about the assignment, but are a lot more excited than Todd is. Maybe they care more about watching the others present, but that is only a distant thought for Todd. He can hardly bring himself to read poetry by famous poets in front of his friends in the privacy of a cave in the middle of the night, there's no way he can read something, his own composition, in front of boys he barely knows. Sure, his friends would be there, and Neil would be there, but that has never helped, not even when it was only ever them. 

He starts something, writes maybe three lines, realises it doesn't make sense, or isn't what he wants to write about, and strikes out the whole page. He isn't sure what to pull from himself to put onto paper like this. Never having written anything remotely personal before, he feels oddly exposed in the corner of his bed. It's daunting to know that his first expression of self will be publicised, and everyone can see who he is because no matter what he writes about—the stars, the seas, or his own beating heart—his writing will reflect him, and he's just not sure what parts of him that would show off. He is terrified of being seen, of people seeing the wrong parts of him, the parts he tries so desperately to hide but can never be sure if he's doing it right. 

His words seem to have abandoned him, like the shadow that disappears in the dark, as he sits on his bed, writing and striking out, writing and striking out, writing and striking out. Nothing seems to work. He isn't satisfied with any of the thoughts that he transcribes into words. It always feels like it's too much or never enough. It never feels like it's just right. There is no baby bear for him. After what feels like hours of this maddening dissatisfaction, he has something written. It isn't fancy or even particularly good, but it's there. He doesn't have enough energy to mar the snowy pages with anything but his words.

His desperate attempts at poetry are interrupted by a loud, cheerful Neil, who enters and immediately kneels down by Todd's bed and hands him a paper. It says something about Henley Hall and A Midsummer Night's Dream.

“I found it,” Neil says, excitedly. 

“You found what?”

“What I wanna do right now. What's really, really inside of me.”

“A Midsummer Night's Dream?”

“This is it.”

“What is that?”

“It's a play, dummy,” he says, like Todd hasn't heard of one of the most famous plays in the English language. 

“What does it have to do with you?”

“All right, they're putting it on at Henley Hall. Open tryouts. Open tryouts!” Neil emphasizes.

“Yes, so…?”

“Yes, so,” Neil gets up, “I'm gonna act,” he says triumphantly. “Aha! Yes, yes, I'm gonna be an actor,” he climbs onto his bed, pulling a blanket onto himself like a king's mantle. “Ever since I can remember, I've wanted to try this,” he's walking around now, and is getting progressively more excited about his prospects. “I even tried to go to summer stock auditions last year, but of course, my father wouldn't let me. For the first time in my whole life, I know what I wanna do. And for the first time, I'm gonna do it!” He grabs the papers on Todd's bed and throws it back at him. “Whether my father wants me to or not. Carpe diem!” he shouts. 

“Neil, Neil, hold on. How are you gonna be in a play if your father won't let you?” It nags at Todd, the constant involvement of Mr. Perry in his son's life. It makes him all the more reserved, especially when it comes to going against a man like Neil's father. Something shifts in Neil's face, but it's gone before Todd can name it. He gets down from where he'd made his way to Todd's bed.

“First, I gotta get the part, then I can worry about that.” He says easily, but Todd doesn't think he believes that. 

“Yeah, but won't he kill you if he finds out you went to an audition and didn't even tell him?”

“No- no, no, no. As far as I'm concerned he won't have to know about any of this.”

“That's impossible,” Todd says, even though he desperately wishes it wasn't. 

“Bullshit, nothing’s impossible.” Todd isn't sure that he's only imagining the defensive tone of Neil's voice.

“Why don't you just call him and ask him? Maybe he'll say yes,” he tries reasoning. He feels stupid, somehow, because from what Neil has told him, and from what he has observed, there is no way Mr. Perry would accept this, but still, he feels the need to try. 

“That's a laugh,” and now, the shift in Neil stays long enough for Todd to recognize it as resignation. He removes the blanket he had wrapped around his shoulders, and it was like seeing a knight without his armour. He looks shockingly vulnerable. “If I don't ask him, at least I won't be disappointing him.”

“Yeah, but if he said no—”

“Jesus, Todd, just whose side are you on?” Neil snaps at him. Of course, he wants to say, I'm on your side, but how would that sound? Neil isn't wrong, it doesn't sound like he is on his side. It's stupid, and it hurts, and Neil is right. Frankly, he's just surprised he got this far with Neil before he figured out the real coward Todd was. He was never going to be like Neil—doing what he wants to, what he believes in, sucking the marrow out of life, living life deliberately. He was never going to be like that, as much as he wants to. But as much as it hurts to admit, it's simply the truth. He watches Neil take his usual place on the radiator and something twists inside Todd at just how deflated Neil looks, like the marrow of his life has been sucked out of him. It feels worse knowing that, in a very real way, Todd is the reason for this. Neil had come in so happy, after all, but Todd just couldn't keep his mouth shut when it mattered most. Some friend he is, isn't he?

“I mean, I haven't even gotten the part yet. Can't I- even enjoy the idea for a little while?” He looks absolutely defeated when he asks this, all the fight from just a few seconds ago having vanished. This is somehow worse than a frustrated Neil, this defeated Neil who has accepted the fate he never wanted. It feels wrong that Neil—bright, warm, inspired Neil who encouraged everyone around him to live their lives to the fullest, who had made Todd feel like an actual person instead of a set piece—to give up so easily in the face of his goddamned father. Todd wishes he could somehow fix this, fan away the dust of resignation that had settled around Neil, take back his words so he could've been more encouraging from the beginning, but no, all he can do it collect the paper strewn around him and hope to quietly disappear so that he doesn't cause Neil anymore distress. 

However, Neil just can't seem to leave him alone. “You coming to the meeting this afternoon?” Right, like Todd can stand to face him after fucking up that badly. 

“I don't know. Maybe,” he says, wishing Neil was just one of those people who left him alone when he didn't seem interested in what they had to say. Too bad, Neil has consistently shown himself to be unlike them all.

“Nothing Mr. Keating has to say means shit to you, does it, Todd?” Neil asks, and god, doesn't that just land so close to home?  

“What does that mean?” He feels tired.

“You're in the club! Being in the club means being stirred up by things. You look about as stirred up as a cesspool.”

“So you want me out?” It would certainly be easier. He doesn't feel like he's important enough to the group that his absence would be particularly missed. It's not even like he reads, or contributes anything much, really. He doesn't even take the minutes of the meeting, the reason he's supposedly there for. It would be fine. It wasn't like he was ever made for anything like this.

But of course, Neil is consistently unconventional. 

“No, I want you in. But being in means you gotta do something, not just say you're in,” and really, the way Neil says it makes it sound so simple. Like it's something even Todd can do, the very same Todd who can hardly introduce himself without stuttering through it all, who can't even talk to a teacher to get the extracurricular he wants, who can't even identify himself as man and not amoeba. 

“Well, listen, Neil, I- I appreciate this concern but I'm- I'm not like you, all right? You- you say things and people listen and I- I'm- I'm not like that.” He doesn't get what is so hard to understand about this. 

“Don't you think you could be?” Neil sounds so sincere, like he genuinely wants Todd to be in the club, and really, Todd can't help but feel that he's undeserving of this much attention. 

“No, I- I don't know, but that's not the point! The point is that there's nothing you can do about it. So you can just butt out. I can take care of myself just fine, all right?” Todd means it. He doesn't like it, he doesn't even particularly want to push Neil away, and if anything, he wants to keep Neil close, and it scares him because he can't say he's ever felt like this about a person before. But it's for the best, for both of them. It has to be. 

But Neil, fucking Neil Perry, just looks at him for a few seconds, leaning on their sloped wall, simply shakes his head. “No,” he says. 

“What do you mean, “No,”?” Todd asks, uncomprehending.

“No,” but this time, Neil smiles at him, softer than his usual smile, almost secretive, like he knows something about Todd that he himself doesn't. 

Oh. Oh. 

At this very moment, it finally hits Todd that he very much likes Neil. He's very likely in love with Neil, even. For all the time he spent trying to quash down this very feeling, it had come back, seemingly stronger than ever. As soon as the revelation makes its way into his brain, his breath seems to leave him. He sits there, unable to respond, and taking his chance, Neil swoops down and picks up the notebook Todd had been writing his poem in from where it lay abandoned in his lap. 

He jumps up after Neil who tries to read aloud what was written which Todd immediately objects to. They must make so much noise because before long, Cameron comes in to tell them off only for Neil to rip the chemistry book right from his hands, making him join them in their stupid, but stupidly fun game of, essentially, hot potato. Somewhere, Charlie joins them with his bongo, and they're screaming and laughing and they've gathered an audience and Todd hasn't felt this exhilarated in a long time. It feels freeing, good, to run around like children, jumping from bed to bed, running on pure adrenaline. They aren't thinking, simply doing, even if that just includes passing poor Cameron's notes between them, and the world doesn't feel so oppressive when his biggest worry is not being caught by Cameron. God, Todd wants to keep this moment forever. 

After the meeting that night, Neil hangs back with him and quietly murmurs a quiet apology. Todd thinks there isn't anything to forgive. When Todd tells him as much, he disagrees.

“No, no, you were just trying to help. And you're right and I know that. But, at that moment, I was just- I don't know, angry? Frustrated? Pissed at you for being right? Whatever it was, I shouldn't have snapped at you. Not like that. I'm sorry,” he says again, fully sincere, and Todd can't really understand why he would go to such lengths. 

“I- it's fine, Neil. I, uh, I forgive you, if that's what you wanna hear. But still, I don't think it's anything worth apologising for.”

“Of course, it's worth apologising for, Todd. Don't ever act like you're not worth apologising to.” And well, Neil always seems to know just where to hit. “So, we're okay now?” he asks again. 

“We were always okay, Neil.” 

Neil simply bumps their shoulders together in response. Todd tries, and fails, to not find that hopelessly endearing. It seems that his newfound revelation about his feelings for Neil was dangerous knowledge. 

When he goes to bed that night, he can barely sleep. He isn't sure what to do with the realisation of his feelings. He can't act on them, certainly not. He'll just have to get through till graduation, then, he can leave all this behind. Telling Neil was never an option. There is no way Neil even is queer in the first place, and no matter how nice and accepting he seems, there was no guarantee he would be okay with Todd being like that. It would be a miracle if he won't get beat up over it. But even if Neil is somehow accepting of this part of Todd, there is no way he would be comfortable with his roommate, someone he'd known for barely a few months, being in love with him. If Todd ever let his true colors show, it could very well end him. As much as it stings to admit, it's the truth he will have to live with. So, the only option he has left is to make sure he is nothing but a good friend to Neil, and pray that this little crush goes away.

Neil gets the part of Puck. He's elated. He's mesmerizing. Todd cannot look away.

It seems to be a recurring theme in his life now, looking at Neil, watching, noticing as much as he could. He sees the confident way Neil holds himself in front of everyone, and sometimes, has a hard time conflating that with the more subdued Neil he sees when they're alone in their room. At moments like that, it feels like he's being let in on a secret, almost. He sees the perfect curve of his cheekbone cut a sharp shape against the window he's so fond of sitting at. He watches as Neil tugs at his bangs when he's trying to concentrate, and wonders how it would feel if he were to do that. 

He notices the ways Neil seems to constantly reach towards him and wishes he could reciprocate in a perfectly acceptable, platonic way. He watches Neil, when he sits in front of him in class, when he's reading the introduction to the meetings, when he's running his lines. He sees Neil when he's sitting on the radiator, ringed by the moonlight, and sometimes, just sometimes, he feels sick with want.

“Guys, how the hell did we get 2 sine-theta for question four?” Pitts asks despairingly, the question directed at anyone who possibly knows the answer. They're supposed to be studying trigonometry but Todd thinks only Meeks and Cameron are coming close to accomplishing their goals for the evening. Neil is at rehearsals, and Knox is asleep, so it's just Todd, Charlie, Cameron, Meeks, and Pitts trying to slog through whatever nonsense was in front of them. Todd did understand Pittsie's despair—it was, after all, hard to understand how one arrives at the answer when one cannot even comprehend the question in the first place. It should be illegal how many letters there are in trigonometry, which they're stealing from Greek, too, now, as if the 26 English alphabets aren't enough, that it barely feels like math anymore. Todd despises it. 

“Here, you get 2 times sine-theta/2 times cosine-theta/2 in the previous step, right? So with the identity, it reduces to 2 sin 2 theta in the final answer,” Meeks, ever the genius, answers. Unfortunately, Todd still doesn't get it.

“What?” Pitts asks again, and Todd agrees wholeheartedly. 

“Ugh, forget trig, guys. Let's take a break, we deserve it,” Charlie announces, sick of the sums that sit in front of him.

“But it's barely been an hour since—” Cameron starts before being cut off by loud agreements about needing a break from the others, Todd included. Charlie leans back leisurely, and suddenly smirks at Todd. That cannot be good, certainly.

“So, Toddy boy,” he begins, and Todd is slightly dreading what Charlie may have in store for him. Sure, he's closer to them now than he was at the beginning of the year, and even feels relatively comfortable around them now, but it still feels overwhelming to have all their attention on him. He knows Charlie enough by now to know that he isn't genuinely mean, he just enjoys the rush of being the centre of attention, and wouldn't actually do anything to hurt his friends. It would be just fine.

“Do you have a girl back home?” he asks, eyes gleaming. Shit.

“Oh, uh, no- no, I don't,” Todd all but stutters out. And suddenly, Todd is back to being the guy no one asked these things to, since he always had such boring answers, was he a prude? At least back then, he hadn't cared much about the ones asking the questions but now, it feels even worse because he likes these people and wants them to like him back. But no, if they knew him, truly knew him, he'd be lucky to be allowed to stay in the school. He remembers the beaten up boy, and the bile down his throat. And suddenly, nothing is fine anymore. 

“Really?” Charlie has the audacity to look disbelieving. “That's surprising. I mean, sure, you're quiet but you're quite the looker, y’know? I'm sure girls would love a piece of that,” Charlie winks at him and the others have varying degrees of agreement on their faces. Todd feels like strangling Charlie, or himself—he isn't picky. 

“Um, no. I mean, maybe they tried talking to me but I, uh, I'm not interested.” He says, looking away. He isn't sure, really, why he says that last part. He's basically shown everyone his scarlet letter now—look at me, I'm not interested in girls. He feels shame, hot and liquid, bubble just under his skin, slowly filling his whole body. His heart beats uncomfortably fast as he tries to not look guilty of not being who he was supposed to be, of not being like them, of not being normal. He's sure he looks terrible though—too many heaves of his chest, too quick in succession.  

“Hmmm…” Charlie hums, looking at Todd, who finally gathers the courage to look back up. He meets Charlie's eyes and for a moment, it feels like Charlie truly sees him as his eyes widen just a fraction, like he's finally figured out how to solve a particularly tricky equation, like he finally understood something. It's all encompassing and wholly terrifying. Finally, Charlie looks away and Todd feels like he can breathe again. 

“See, Charlie, at least he has girls trying to talk to him. Too bad you can't say that for yourself,” Cameron joins in, thankfully diverting the group’s attention from Todd, and if he isn't delusional, he thinks he sees Cameron send a ‘you okay?’ look to him from across the table. He's never been particularly fond of Cameron before, but now thinks he's one of the best people he knows. The conversation quickly turns into the usual banter between Charlie and Cameron but now, Charlie's eyes have taken on a completely different kind of gleam as he lists his best attributes to Cameron—for judgement or for taking, Todd isn't sure. He also isn't sure if they ever get back to the trigonometry they were meant to be doing, but before he knows it, they're saying their goodbyes and heading back to their rooms.

Todd knows Neil wouldn't be back for at least another half hour and he still doesn't quite feel right after the whole thing from study group so he sits heavily on his bed and tries to regulate his breathing. It's alright, he tells himself, they don't seem like they suspected anything. They probably won't even remember this exchange. But the more he thinks, the more shaky he feels. He had come so close today, so close to, essentially, ruining his life. 

When he hears the knock on the door, he can barely drag his feet enough to open the door. He's surprised to find Charlie there, of all people, whose expression changes when he takes in the state Todd is in.

“Shit, Todd, are you okay?” he immediately asks, concern evident.

“Why- why wouldn't I be?” Todd tries feebly. He feels so fucking stupid for having such an overreaction to such a nondescript event. Sure, he'd come close to revealing himself, but he hadn't. They don't know. If only his goddamned heart and lungs could take the hint and stop overworking themselves for no reason. 

Charlie quickly closes the door behind him and takes his place on Neil's bed, motioning for Todd to do the same.

“So, uh, about today,” he begins nervously, not meeting Todd's eyes. It feels so out of place for someone like Charlie, someone who's always so sure of his words, to struggle to say them. “About the whole girl back home thing, I noticed you were kinda uncomfortable, right?”

Todd nods. 

“Well, I don't want to pry but,” he falters, running his fingers through his already messy hair. “Well, if I ask, you have to promise not to hit me.”

Todd is so shocked by the direction Charlie seems to be steering them in that he momentarily finds it easier to breathe. While he's still mostly scared shitless, there's a part of him that hopes, a tiny but insistent part of him that hopes Charlie might be like him, that he wasn't completely alone. If anything, he hoped that Charlie at least didn't believe people like him deserved to die. 

“Just ask me, Charlie,” and by some miracle, he sounds almost normal. Not completely, but it would do.

“Well, you said you weren't interested in girls… Does that mean, well, boys?” he finishes lamely. When Todd doesn't immediately respond, he's too taken aback by the blatant wording, Charlie rushes to add more. “Of course, I wouldn't tell anyone anything you tell me, because, honestly, I'd just be a hypocrite then, and you don't have to tell me anything, I just. Well, I don't know what I thought, and I don't know why I'm telling you all this right now, but maybe, there's just a part of me that knows you're good, Todd. That you wouldn't hate me. Not for this.” 

If Todd was shocked before, that's nothing compared to what he feels now. Charlie had turned away again, especially towards the end, and Todd hasn't seen him so vulnerable before. It makes Todd's chest warm. It feels like now, he wouldn't have to bear the weight of the world all alone. He has a friend now. 

“Yeah, Charlie, you're right,” he finally remembers he has to actually talk for people to know he can answer a question. The smile Charlie gives him at that is one that Todd hopes nothing in the world will ever take away. Even though he had accepted his queerness, it still felt precarious, like someone might find out at any moment and he'd have to lie, or die. But it feels so good to admit it out loud, especially to someone who was also queer. 

“So,” Charlie begins again, some of his usual mischief entering his voice, but this time, Todd knows he will be okay with whatever Charlie might ask him. “There is someone you're interested in though, right?”

Todd feels his face heat up. Maybe Charlie can know about his preferences but there's no way he'd be able to admit who the true object of his affections was. It feels too fresh, he'd hardly come to terms with his own feelings and here was Charlie, asking him so plainly. It still felt wrong to like Neil, to like him like that, and to admit that to Neil's own best friend was something he could never bring himself to do.

Seeing Todd's evident struggle (god, he really should get better at looking like he isn't losing his mind every time he's asked any question), Charlie's eyes soften.

“It's Neil, isn't it?” he asks quietly.

“How- how did you know?” his head snaps around to the boy next to him.

“Been there, done that, Toddy boy—no, no, not like that. But y’know, I don't think you can be Neil's best friend without being at least a little in love with him—yes, yes, you're also his best friend, just accept it,” he pauses to let his point sink in but continues before Todd can say anything. “Don't worry, this was like two years ago. He's like my brother now, so you don't have to be jealous of me. I've moved on.”

“So is Neil, y’know, okay with- with us? Like, people like us?” Todd finally asks the question that's been bothering him all this time. 

“Oh yeah, sure, he is. He knows about me. Well, he doesn't know that I liked him, but he knows that I like boys.” He laughs.

Todd would like to save the relief he feels at these words and use it when everything is particularly suffocating, a soothing balm for a throbbing wound. 

“What about all the girls you talk about then?”

“I like them too, sure.”

“You can… like both?”

“Why not? They're all just people anyway. Same flesh and same blood underneath different skin. Do you think you like both?” 

And, well, when Charlie puts it like that, it all seems so simple. They're all just people anyway. What a simple sentiment that so many seem unable to comprehend. He tries not to let the anger take hold of him, not right now. There was plenty of time to be angry at the world, but for now, he can laugh with Charlie and ask stupid questions and get stupid answers and they could just be, for a little while. 

“Hmm, no. I think it's just boys for me, thanks,” Todd replies, and the admission doesn't feel nearly as obscene as it should. 

“Fair enough.”

“You said you don't like Neil anymore, so… who do you like now?”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Cameron?” It's not hard to see how invested Charlie is whenever Cameron is around. Sure, he mostly picks on him, but there's this undercurrent of something that Todd has always observed between them that he'd never been able to give words to. He doesn't think everyone would've picked up on it, but he also doesn't think everyone notices every little detail about the emotions of the people around them, so. The way Charlie's eyes widen at his guess is all the confirmation Todd needs. 

“How—”

“I'm quiet, Charlie, not blind. Don't worry, it's not obvious, I just notice too much. Also, I wasn't even sure, so your reaction is what confirmed it,” and uncharacteristically enough, he pats Charlie on the shoulder. 

“He's so stupid, Todd,” Charlie all but whines, “He's such an idiot. Such a stickler for rules—which should be annoying, and it is—but God, he has so much conviction in his beliefs, and he's always, like, challenging me—” 

“He really is the only one who can match your bullheadedness.” 

“—and he has no right looking that cute when he's doing those fuckass trig sums,” he's fully whining now. “I just, I just don't want him to, fuck, I don't know, think I'm stupid.”

“You're not stupid, and he knows that.”

“Tell that to the way he looks at me sometimes. I just- I don't want him to hate me.” 

“No, Charlie, he does not think you're stupid and he does not hate you,” Todd shakes him where he has him by the shoulder. “He's probably also annoyed by how much conviction you have in your beliefs.”

“You think?” Charlie buries his face in his hands. At this, Todd can do nothing but laugh at the sheer incongruity of the situation he finds himself in. Just moments ago, he was about to possibly start crying because he had almost ruined his life and now, he's comforting Charlie about his crush on Cameron, the one, allegedly, born with a foot in his mouth. But after today, Todd is reconsidering everything he knows about Cameron. Unable to come up with a clever enough response, Charlie joins his laughter, and for the first time, and hopefully many times after that, Todd feels normal. That's what normal people do, right? Talk with their friends about crushes, however unattainable they may seem, laugh, comfort each other, make each other feel a little less alone. It feels good. He understands why people place such importance on friendship. 

“Oh my god,” Charlie finally says, still shaking with laughter. “We should do this more often, Anderson. I've gotta head back now, but tell Neil I said hi, okay?” He gets up to leave right as Neil walks in. “Or never mind, hi, Neil, I was just about to leave. How was rehearsal?”

Neil looks between them, understandably confused by the lingering laughter, and possibly even the fact that Charlie was with Todd and not Meeks or whoever. 

“Uh, rehearsal was good. What are you doing here?” 

“Talking to Toddy boy, of course. You don't want to keep him all to yourself, do you? Learn to share, Neil,” Charlie teases his best friend, slapping his shoulder. Maybe Todd was simply imagining this, blame his adrenaline or whatever, but Neil looked slightly pinker than when he first entered. 

“What– I—”

“Shh, it's alright, I'm leaving, I'm leaving. ‘Night Perry, ‘night Anderson.” he says before closing the door shut behind him.

“What was that all about? Do you know what that was about?” Neil asks, and if Todd may, he seems just the slightest bit flustered. He simply shakes his head and smiles, nothing, it says. 

He goes to bed that night feeling lighter than he ever has. 

In the end, Todd ends up not preparing anything for the poetry they're supposed to present. Well, it's not that he did nothing, no, he did write something. He tried. It just doesn't feel good enough to present. It's not what he wants it to be. He just cannot fathom standing in front of so many people, feeling their eyes and ears on him. The thought fills him with an inexplicable dread, completely unfounded but all-encompassing.

A few people have already presented their poems, including Knox, whose poem was dedicated to Chris. It was simple, but still, Todd found it sweet that he loved so loudly.

Mr. Keating, on the other hand, seems convinced in sending him to an early grave. 

“Mr. Anderson,” he says, eyes sparkling in a way Todd is certain he will regret, “I see you sitting there in agony. Come on, Todd, step up. Let's put you out of your misery.” Mr. Keating motions for him to get up and say his poem. 

He can't do this, he just cannot. He looks up at his teacher, eyes pleading, but he was almost frowning. 

“I didn't do it. I didn't write a poem,” he says with a sigh. It feels like defeat.

However, Mr. Keating is undeterred. Usually, most teachers would tell him off for not doing his homework, or deduct points, or something. But not Keating, no. And for once, just this once, Todd wishes Keating was like most teachers. Still, he walks back to Todd's desk with a kind of knowing expression. 

“Mr. Anderson thinks that everything inside of him is worthless and embarrassing,” he tells the entire class, like Todd isn't just sitting right there. “Isn't that right, Todd? Isn't that your worst fear?” 

He's right. 

“Well, I think you're wrong. I think you have something inside of you that is worth a great deal,” he says, walking over to the board and writes, “I sound my barbaric YAWP over the rooftops of the world. W.W. Uncle Walt, again. Now, for those of you who don't know, a yawp is a loud cry or yell. Now, Todd, I would like you to give us a demonstration of a barbaric yawp.” At Todd's clear reluctance, he urges him, “Come on, you can't yawp sitting down. Let's go. Come on, up,” holding Todd by the forearm as if to guide him to the front of the classroom. “Gotta get in yawping stance.”

It feels like his worst nightmare, standing in front of people who barely know him, people he barely knows, and people who are laughing (at him, his brain helpfully adds). He wants to dig himself a hole he can never come out of.

“A- a yawp,” Todd says, almost listless.

“No, not just a yawp. A barbaric yawp,” Mr. Keating emphasizes. 

“Yeah, yeah, right. Yawp,” he tries again, same as before.

“Come on, louder.”

 “Yawp.”

“Oh, that's a mouse. Come on, louder!” he says, walking closer to Todd.

“Yawp,” and it's louder, by just a little bit. 

“Good god, boy, yell like a man—” 

“Yawp!” Todd finally does yell, if only to get this ridiculous exercise over with. Still, it feels like victory.

“There it is! You see, you have a barbarian in you after all,” Mr. Keating says, grabbing the front of his blazer, and before Todd can walk away, holds him in place. “Now, you don't get away that easy. There's a picture of Uncle Walt up there.” He puts his arm around Todd's shoulder. Todd, again, feels ridiculous. “What does he remind you of? Don't think, answer. Go on.” He asks, snapping at him as he moves again, simply to walk around Todd.

“A– a madman.” 

“What kind of a madman? Don't think about it, answer again.”

“A crazy madman.”

“No, you can do better than that. Free up your mind, use your imagination.” Mr. Keating keeps walking around in circles around Todd. It makes him almost dizzy. “You can do better. Free up your mind, use your imagination. Say the first thing that pops into your head, even if it's gibberish.”

“A sweaty-toothed madman,” Todd says, not even looking at the class anymore, still facing the picture of Uncle Walt. 

“Good god, boy, there's a poet in you after all.”

The class laughs. Todd can hear his heart desperately banging out a frenzied rhythm.

“There, close your eyes. Close your eyes, close them,” Keating instructs, and really, Todd isn't in a position to refuse anything this man says. He holds Todd's neck, and places the other hand over Todd's eyes, and somehow, it feels grounding. “Now, describe what you see.” He's being spun around now, like a dance where he simply has to follow Mr. Keating's lead. He can do that. He can follow a lead. 

“I- I close my eyes.”

“Yes?”

“Uh, and this image floats beside me—” 

“A sweaty-toothed madman.” 

“—A sweaty-toothed madman with a stare that pounds my brain.”

“Oh, that's excellent. Now, give him action. Make him do something.”

“His hands reach out and choke me.” He is spinning, and there are words spilling out of his mouth he didn't know had existed inside him.

“That's it, wonderful, wonderful,” Mr. Keating encourages. It's enough. He removes his hand, and Todd can't see what he does afterwards, his eyes are still closed. 

“And all the time he's mumbling,” Todd says, gasping for air that he was never deprived of.

“What's he mumbling?”

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

The class laughs. Todd opens his eyes. It feels like reality is suddenly being poured unceremoniously over him. 

“Forget them, forget them!” Keating urges him again, covering his eyes for a second, reminding Todd to close them. “Stay with the blanket. Tell me about that blanket.” 

Todd feels like he can't breathe. Still gasping for air, like he'd sprinted a hundred metres, instead of simply standing in front of his class, he continues, “You can push it, stretch it, it'll never be enough.” It feels easier now, getting the words out, eyes closed. “You kick at it, beat it, it'll never cover any of us. From the moment we enter crying to- to the moment we leave dying, it'll just cover your face as you wail and cry and scream.” He ends it there, almost afraid of where else it would take him. It already feels like so much. He finally opens his eyes again, breathing heavily. He sees Keating crouched down, looking at him like he's done something to be proud of. The boys clap and before Todd can catch up, he feels his lips turn up in a tentative smile. 

Mr. Keating walks up to him, holds the back of skull, and tells him, “Don't you forget this.” Todd doesn't think he could do such a thing if he tried. 

And, well, wasn't that something. When he takes his seat back, he doesn't pay much attention to the other boys’ poems. He can't even bring himself to look at his friends’ reactions. His heart doesn't calm down for a while after that, but it feels less like a punishment to hear it, and more like listening to an old friend. It feels like the words had been scraped from the bottom of his lungs, and it tries to compensate by taking in as much air as possible. He can feel his skin prickle where it catches the cold air. He feels, suddenly, hyper-aware of his body—every blink, every breath, every rise and fall of his chest. It was like his physical body had only then been exposed to the real world, free from the glass container it was tucked away in all this time. 

At that moment, Todd thinks he understands what it means to be alive. 

“Gentlemen, Poetrusic, by Charlie Dalton,” Charlie announced, playing the saxophone during a meeting. He's quite good, actually. “Laughing, crying, tumbling, mumbling. Gotta do more. Gotta be more,” he says, accentuating it with a few more notes. “Chaos screaming, chaos dreaming. Gotta do more, gotta be more!” He plays a tune Todd can't place, possibly his own composition, and they all listen, transfixed by the melody. When he ends it, they all clap and compliment him. 

“That was great. Where'd you learn to play like that?” Neil asks, taking a long puff from his pipe. They'd started doing that recently, and surprisingly enough, Todd found that he quite liked the burn of smoke in his lungs. Sure, it may be bad for him, if biology class was anything to go by, but he knew for a fact that the men teaching them were far worse in their smoking, so he wasn't particularly bothered by their drivel. It was all the same anyway, their bodies would deteriorate on its own, so what if they sped up the process a little, provided it with a bit of help? 

“My parents made me take the clarinet for years—”

“I loved the clarinet,” Cameron says.

“I hated it,” Charlie responds without missing a beat. Still, Todd cannot find the usual malice in his tone, it feels almost teasing. “The saxophone. The saxophone is more… sonorous.”

Cameron ooh's. “Vocabulary!”

Suddenly, Knox drops his pipe. “I can't take it anymore,” he declares. “If I don't have Chris, I'm gonna kill myself.”

“Knoxious, you've gotta calm down—”

“No, Charlie. That's just my problem. I've been calm all my life. I'm gonna do something about that,” Knox smiles.

“Where are you going?” Neil calls after him.

“I'm gonna call her,” he laughs. Immediately, they all scrambled to pick up their coats and run after him. 

He does it. 

“Carpe diem.”

He calls her. She invites him to a party.

“She is going to be mine,” Knox declares, walking away to his room. Truthfully, Todd is fairly doubtful about her becoming Knox's, as he put it, but he also doesn't know enough. He'll take anything as long as his friend is happy, is all. 

It's Todd's birthday and his big present is a desk set. The same as the one he received last year, the same as the one he still uses. Todd has never particularly liked his birthday. Even as a child, everything was very perfunctory. His parents would give him something he knew they bought the day before, because they never particularly hid that fact, and they would go out to an overpriced restaurant. They always got the same strawberry cake every year. Todd didn't even like strawberries. As he got older, and started attending a boarding school from middle school, he's been receiving the same present every year. A desk set. It's a perfectly fine desk set, it's quite good even, considering how the one he got three years ago still serves him perfectly well. It's all just a waste, really. He knows they don't care, they don't need to do this, it just makes it worse. They could simply not acknowledge his birthday and he would be fine. This thoughtless show feels more callous, somehow. 

He's seventeen now, and it doesn't feel real. It feels like a mythical age, not meant for people like him. He's not an adult yet, but he's seventeen, so he might as well be one. He isn't sure if he likes it. 

It's dark and it's cold and he finds an empty bridge to sit on and it feels like the perfect place to disappear to. Still, Neil finds him.

“What's going on?” Neil asks.

“Nothing.”

Neil walks closer, and stops right before him.

“Today's my birthday,” Todd says, before he can stop himself. 

“Is today your birthday? Happy birthday,” Neil says, and all Todd can think about is how beautiful he looks under the dim lights.

“Thanks.”

“What'd you get?” He asks, looking at the wrapped desk set that sits next to him.

“My parents gave me this.”

“Isn't this the same desk—?”

“Yeah, they gave me the same thing as last year,” and Todd isn't even surprised anymore. It makes sense, it's not like they believe he did anything to warrant any thought from them. 

“Oh.”

“Oh,” Todd echoes, hollow. He hates how his voice cracks at that single syllable. It's fine, really, he's quite used to this.

“Maybe they thought you needed another one,” Neil tries to lighten the mood.

“Maybe they weren't thinking about anything at all,” Todd chuckles, mirroring Neil's attempt at humor. “The- funny thing is, about this, I didn't even like it the first time.” He smiles as he says this, and somehow, it doesn't feel as fake as it should. Neil is smiling, too. He understands, Todd thinks.

“Todd, I think you're underestimating the value of this desk set,” Neil leans down to pick up the present and inspects it. “I mean, who would want a football, or a baseball, or—”

“Or a car?” Todd supplies dutifully.

“—Or a car, if they could have a desk set as wonderful as this one? I mean, if I were ever going to buy a desk set twice, I would probably buy this one, both times,” Neil laughs, and Todd joins him. He doesn't think he's laughed so much on his birthday as he does with Neil. 

“In fact, it's shape is…” Neil intently studies the desk set and concludes, “It's rather aerodynamic, isn't it?” He walks closer to the railing. “I can feel it. Phew. This desk set… wants to fly.” 

And well, isn't that the truth? 

Todd finds himself standing up, eager to do something. 

“Todd?” Neil hands the desk set over to him, like a prized possession. “The world's first unmanned flying desk set,” he announces, like it's the most natural thing in the world. 

Todd flings the desk set to the ground, with no hesitation, and it surprises him. He's been hesitating his whole life, and now, he's throwing desk sets over bridges, standing next to the boy he loves and he feels nothing but a light soaring of his chest and he thinks he might fly away if he isn't careful enough. He feels like the paper that floats down. It's glorious. 

“Oh, my! Well, I wouldn't worry,” Neil tells him very seriously, “You'll get another one next year.” Todd is sure he will. And next year, too, another desk set will get its wish to fly fulfilled. The thought fills him with a giddiness he wasn't expecting to feel, especially not on his birthday. 

They walk back to their room together, laughing and talking, and Todd wonders how he got here. Just a few months ago, he was sure he'd live quietly, repeat his experience at Balincrest, and graduate without doing much of anything. And yet, here he was, friends with such an incredible boy, sneaking out at night to read poetry in a cave, creating gods. Maybe this is what it means to be alive.

When they reach their room, Neil insists on having a special meeting to celebrate his birthday. Todd isn't sure he can handle it, and tells Neil as much. 

“Come on! You deserve the best 17th birthday party! You're seventeen now, for fuck’s sake,” Neil shakes his shoulder as he tells him.

“And? It's fine, Neil. Even just throwing away that desk set makes this, arguably, the best birthday I've had. So, you know, thank you for that, but really, that's enough for me,” Todd says. 

“Oh, please. Fine. If you don't want to go to the cave, how about we call the other poets and just have a small gathering, just in our room?” And Neil looks at him with big, pleading eyes, and really, there was no way Todd could say no to that. It wasn't that Todd genuinely didn't want to spend the night with the other Poets, but somehow, he felt like he would be interrupting their schedules somehow, disturbing them. He doesn't think this line of reasoning would be accepted by Neil. 

In the end, all the Poets make it, and Charlie, bless his heart, even manages to sneak in a bottle of whiskey. 

“How did you even get your hands on whiskey?” Cameron asks incredulously, and Charlie simply winks at him, with a non-committal comment about having his sources. Maybe the most surprising thing about the interaction was the way Cameron looked at Charlie with muted intrigue and doesn't even tell him off for breaking the rules. Todd smiled to himself. 

The others brought food they'd stolen from the kitchen, and sang happy birthday to a furiously blushing Todd. As comfortable as he'd gotten with being around them, it still felt like it was a bit too much to have all their attention on him. But still, it was certainly quite nice to have people wish him a happy birthday and mean it. 

Todd drinks whiskey for the first time that night, and finds out how disgusting it is. It burns on its way down his throat and he wonders how people can drink it for pleasure. He laughs at Neil's expression that mirrored this feeling. They play stupid games, have stupid conversations, eat an unholy amount of biscuits and bread rolls. Unfortunately, Charlie couldn't play his saxophone, which he compensates for by loudly bursting into song at unpredictable moments. Each time, Cameron stares at him with something inscrutable. Todd sits next to Neil, slumped against the radiator. They convince him to take a few more sips from the bottle, and he feels pleasantly buzzed while everyone around him ends up having their own conversations. Everything feels perfect. 

He finds his head slowly slipping toward Neil’s shoulder, and it's not a conscious decision, of course not, but still, he feels like a magnet aligning himself with Neil's strong field. He blames the whiskey, one hundred percent. Still, Neil doesn't push him away. It feels gratifying, but also like he's taking advantage. Neil clearly isn't affected by the alcohol like Todd is, so he's probably allowing it to happen because he feels bad. Still, Neil feels solid against him, and he can smell the faint vanilla of Neil's shampoo, and it makes the once dormant butterflies in his stomach come back to life. He isn't sure how long they stay like that, but he won't complain. The world feels pleasantly blurry, pleasantly saturated. 

Once the bottle of whiskey was emptied, and everyone was tired, and the conversation waned to a faint buzz, Meeks suggested they call it a night. And as fun as it was, Todd wholeheartedly agreed. When Neil moves away to see everyone out, Todd misses the warmth much more than he deserved to. He couldn't even bring himself to care about the fact they could've been caught so easily had the wrong person knocked at the wrong time. It was novel, not caring about the rules they were blatantly breaking inside school grounds. Whatever they did in the cave was one thing, but blatantly drinking inside a dorm room? That's a bit much, even for them, and still, Todd thinks he couldn't care less.

After everyone had left, Todd sits down next to Neil on his bed, still slightly buzzed. Around Neil, it even feels nice. His brain feels pleasantly quiet for once.

“You know, this is the most fun I've had on my birthdays,” he confesses. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah, so, you know, I really am happy that you did this. Thank you.” Todd cannot bring himself to look at Neil's face, it feels too big, somehow. 

“This is the least you deserve, I hope you understand,” Neil tells him with so much sincerity that Todd thinks he might cry if he dwells on it for too long. When Todd turns to look at him, he's already staring at Todd with an intensity he cannot place, and he feels his mouth go dry. They're not sitting particularly close, Todd had made sure of that, but the air between them still felt so charged. Finally, Neil breaks eye contact by standing up.

“Happy birthday again, Todd,” he says, reaching down to lightly pat Todd's head. Todd feels his heartbeat slightly stutter. Almost as if realising what he just did, Neil withdraws his hand as naturally as he'd placed them in the first place, and quickly walks across the room to switch off the lights. “Well,” he says thickly into the darkness, “You should go to bed. Good night, Todd. Happy birthday, again.”

“Good night, Neil.”

Todd receives a letter from his father. It's the typical spiel about how he needs to do better, make something worthwhile of himself. He doesn't want to be worth five ninety-eight all his life, does he? It still stings. He tries not to let it show. Neil sees it anyway.

“Letter from your father?” Neil asks when Todd grips the letter in his hand a little too hard.

“Yeah.”

“Bad?”

“The usual,” Todd tries to shrug it off.

“Oh. Bad then,” Neil asserts. Todd can't bring himself to disagree. 

“I guess…”

Neil doesn't say anything else, just looks at him for a long moment. Todd speaks before he can stop himself.

“It was a reminder. “Five ninety-eight”. That's what my dad called me growing up. That's what all the chemicals in the human body would be worth if you bottled them raw and sold them. That's all I would be worth unless I worked everyday to improve myself. Five ninety-eight,” Todd shakes his head. It sometimes feels like the truth. As he is, it isn't like he's worth much more than the chemicals in his body, anyway. He doesn't have excellent grades like his brother. He certainly doesn't have the athletic prowess, or the charisma, or any other special talent that makes someone worthy of being great. He's just Todd. He's barely an Anderson, as his father makes sure to remind him, with how little he can do. 

“Oh, Todd,” Neil shakes his head. 

“When I was little, I thought all parents automatically loved their kids. That's what my teachers told me. That's what I read in the books they gave me. That's what I believed. Well, my parents might have loved my brother, but they certainly don't love me.” It feels odd, and he can't really even bring himself to feel bad about saying such a thing about his parents because of how true it felt. He hasn't ever vocalised this feeling, or really, knowledge, even though he's known for a while now. 

At first, he'd tried telling himself that once he does something good, they'll notice him, and maybe, they'll love him. He'd tried, and while he was never as good as his brother, he would still feel proud of the grades he showed. They hardly deigned to acknowledge that. If everything he did wasn't exactly what Jeffrey had done, there was nothing praiseworthy in that. 

When he'd gotten his first A in math, back in third grade, he'd been happy to show that to his parents. ‘Jeffery has already been getting A’s in math and science since first grade. You can do better’. He doesn't tell them that this test took him weeks of studying to ace. He knew Jeffery didn't have to study weeks for a single test. 

When he had messed up in a speech that same year, his parents had looked at him, clearly disappointed. They didn't say anything but he could hear their thoughts loud and clear. ‘Jeffery would never mess up something as simple as talking’. He doesn't think he ever really got over that. He doesn't like to think about how he still cannot bring himself to read during the Society meetings. 

It's all stupid, anyway. He should be better than all this. Maybe, if he tries and tries, he could make them look at him with acknowledgement, if not approval. 

Neil doesn't speak for a long while. Todd doesn't blame him. He wouldn't know what to say either, if his friend confessed to him that his parents didn't love him. And really, he shouldn't even have told Neil. He doesn't know why he did that. Frankly, it's shameful. He's so messed up, there was something so tainted in him that not even his parents love him. He wonders how anyone else can love him. He doesn't even feel sad anymore, just resigned. There really was no helping him. 

“You know,” Neil finally says, “I don't think my father considers me to be my own person. I feel like he thinks I'm just an extension of him, a way to live out his ideal life. I mean, at first he was pretty decent. I mean, I guess I didn't feel the pressure so much as a child since I naturally did pretty well in school. But of course, ever since I started high school, all he can talk about is how I'm going to Harvard and becoming this great doctor and how proud he'll be. And obviously, I shouldn’t do anything that would interfere with this.”

Todd stares, uncomprehending. He's known since his first day here that Mr. Perry was a strict man, but everything Neil says goes past the definition of that word. It makes sense now, why Neil always jumps at the first chance to do anything out of the ordinary, whether it be ripping the pages of a school book, or standing on the teacher's desk, or sneaking out in the middle of the night. 

“Oh,” is all Todd can say.

“Anyway, sorry, I didn't mean to, well, tell you all this. I don't really like bringing it up, but I just want you to know that you're, uh, you're not alone?” Neil looks away as he says this. Todd is also a little surprised that Neil actually apologises, even though he doesn't think there's anything to apologise for. He was just sharing his own experience after all, and frankly, it somehow made Todd feel better than any hollow words of comfort would have.

“No, don't apologize. I'm sorry for bringing it up in the first place. It's all a bit stupid, really,” he feels a lump in his throat, but no tears in his eyes. “I get it, I should do better. And I'm trying, but it's like my best isn't enough for them to even acknowledge it. Maybe if I were just better, they would love me.” 

“What? You're doing just fine, Todd. They're blind if they don't see that. And you're stupid for thinking you need to, like, earn their love by being better or whatever. If they don't love you as you are, they don't deserve you in the first place.” 

And, well, if Todd hadn't wanted to cry when he thought about how his parents didn't love him, he certainly wants to cry now. It feels even more stupid, and Neil is only saying it to make him feel better, but god if that isn't the nicest thing someone's said to him. And for once, he wants to believe that Neil is right, and that he's wrong. 

“Well,” Neil says, raising an imaginary glass for an imaginary toast, “Welcome to the Shitty Father Haver Society, Todd Anderson. Your situation may be sad, but we certainly aren't to have you.” 

And despite himself, Todd laughs. 

“Right, because a Society is two people,” he finds himself teasing.

“Hey!” Neil acts affronted. “My company is worth plenty, I'll have you know,” he pouts. It is incredibly endearing. 

“Yeah, yeah, it is,” Todd laughs as he says this, but is also completely sincere. He isn't sure if he wants Neil to pick up on that or not.

They eat dinner with their left hands, one night. Except Neil, who is already left-handed, so he eats with his right. It was extremely funny watching everyone struggle with even curling their spaghetti into their forks. 

“Mr. Dalton,” Nolan interrupts them, when he reaches them during his rounds. “Are you gentlemen all normally left-handed?” 

They meekly chorus no sir's.

“Then why are you all eating with your left hands?” 

“We thought it would be good to break old habits, sir,” Knox bravely ventures.

“And what's wrong with “old habits”, Mr. Overstreet?”

“Well, they perpetuate mechanical living, sir. They limit your mind.”

“Mr. Overstreet, I suggest you worry less about breaking old habits, and more about developing good study habits. Do you understand?” He asks sternly. Todd hates him and everything he stands for. It's all fucking stupid, anyway. What does it matter to him which hand they choose to eat with? Maybe he should develop better understanding habits, Todd thinks bitterly. They weren't even being disruptive. He hates Welton.

“Yes, sir,” Knox still replies. Charlie stares at Nolan with barely disguised anger.

“That goes for all of you. Now, eat with your correct hands” he says, and waits until they've switched their utensils over to their “correct” hands before finally leaving.

Charlie stuffs a whole meatball into his mouth in retaliation. He doesn't even choke.

It happens in the middle of the night. Todd, light sleeper that he is, wakes at the slightest disturbance. That night, he is woken by a sudden caress of cold air against his exposed cheeks. It's not unusual, because for all the noise it makes, their radiator barely works, and every time, Todd is woken by the cold. He usually manages to go back to sleep quickly enough after the fact, but it's still an unwelcome intrusion. But no, tonight was different. 

The first thing he notices as he opens his bleary eyes is a silhouette against the window. It takes him a moment, but he recognizes Neil's profile, ringed by the moon's pale halo. He looks like an angel. He had opened the window, it would seem, and was leaning against the bars, a common sight in their room, but seeing Neil like that in the middle of the night made Todd feel like he was intruding. The sight immediately kills any sleep left in Todd. 

Maybe if this had happened in the beginning of the year, or even a few weeks ago, Todd would've closed his eyes and pretended he never woke up, but now, Todd had changed, grown, something. He quietly pulled his blanket off and made his way to Neil.

“Come here often?” he asked, standing right next to Neil.

“Oh, sorry, did I wake you? Shit, sorry, I'll close the window,” Neil sounded genuinely startled, not having noticed Todd's presence until he spoke, and scrambled to close the window.

“It's fine. Now that I stand here, the cold is kinda nice, actually.”

“Hmm.” 

Todd takes another moment to study Neil's face, and something twists in him as he notices fresh tear stains on his face, his expression vulnerable. He wants to reach out, to wipe them away, to touch, to comfort. He's never seen Neil cry before. They've had open conversations before and Todd is sure Neil is the one who knows most about him. Maybe he isn't the same for Neil, but he likes to think he sees more of Neil—the Neil under the protective acts he so meticulously puts up—more than most do, anyway. It keeps him sane. He settles with asking, “Are- are you crying?” 

“It's that obvious, huh?” Neil tries weakly, turning away and looking out at the pristine snow that covers the grounds. Todd can tell it's meant to be more of a casual reply, meant to ease the tension, maybe just play the whole thing off as a joke, but it comes off as more defenseless than he intends. He makes no move to wipe his tears.

“No, no, I just- I just notice too much.” I notice you too much, Todd doesn't say. “What happened?”

“He called. To make sure I wasn't doing anything unnecessary,” Neil replies as new tears make their way down his face. He finally looks up at Todd, eyes almost defiant, “I'm not. I'm not doing anything unnecessary, Todd, I'm not.” It's not phrased like a question but Todd can still hear the undercurrent of doubt in Neil's words. Seeing Neil like this, it feels like his heart is being strangled. This time, he doesn't fully resist the impulse, the instinct, to reach out. 

He slowly, carefully reaches out to brush Neil's hair out of his forehead. It feels just as soft as he'd always imagined. He doesn't immediately flinch away from the touch, and Todd feels like maybe he should. Maybe then, it would be easier to get over him. But as always, Neil never ceases to surprise him, like an anomaly he knows about but one that, nonetheless, catches him off-guard every time. 

“No, no you're not, Neil.”

Neil doesn't reply, and does the unthinkable. He leans into Todd’s space and rests his head against Todd's chest. He would most definitely be able to feel Todd's shivering heart. Seeing as Todd hadn't immediately pushed him away, he brings an arm to wrap around Todd's waist, scared, and hopeful, and seeking reassurance. Todd can hardly breathe, much less say anything to the new development. He settles with carding his fingers through Neil's soft hair. He hopes it conveys everything the words he is unable to get out are meant to. Neil sighs softly against him, and Todd feels something shift between the both of them—something wedged under the covers of late night conversations, discharged from quick brushes of hands, flitting between stolen glances. Something for only the two of them. 

“I'm sorry,” Neil says after a few moments. He sounds like he means it. It makes no sense to Todd.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Todd asserts, as if he was never more sure of anything else. Neil leans away and Todd immediately feels the absence of his warmth. He looks up at Todd, eyes slightly wide and face pink from the crying and the cold. Todd feels pinned under Neil's gaze—one that threatens to unravel him by just seeing him, wholly. And the worst part? Todd would fully let him. 

“You're so– gosh, Todd, just– you’re incredible,” he finally smiles, laughs even, and even if he's barely processed his words, Todd feels like he did something worthwhile, making Neil smile, small, but perfectly real. Neil holds his eyes until the full magnitude of the words sink in, and at that moment, Todd wonders whatever he may have done in his life to deserve this incredible boy in front of him, still holding his waist and letting his hair be played with. His heart swells with something he's always been scared to name, but looking at this beautiful boy's completely earnest expression, and his coffee-colored eyes brimming with poetry—of which Todd thinks capturing even a fraction would be enough—and maybe, just maybe, the feeling deserves to be called love. Todd Anderson loves Neil Perry. It wasn't just a silly school boy crush, he wasn't just in love with Neil anymore, he loved Neil. Maybe that's how it had begun but just like Todd had evolved in his time with Neil, so too had his feelings, it would seem. There was no way around it, not anymore. 

“That's– I–” he can't finish the sentence, he can't even think of an appropriate enough response in his head to translate that into words. Instead he asks, “Do you wanna sneak out?” 

Neil doesn't reply, simply smiles, tightens his grip around Todd's waist—yes, Todd's brain does short-circuit—before swinging his leg off the radiator and grabbing their coats.

What with all the experience they have sneaking out in the middle of the night, combined with the fact that it was only the two of them instead of the usual seven, they made it past their dorms and into the grounds, unsurprisingly swiftly, and triumphantly breathed in the fresh night air. 

For all its numerous flaws as an institution, Welton had one of the most beautiful campuses around, and being able to observe it undisturbed, under the starlight, with Neil by his side is something Todd will always be grateful for. It had started snowing only a few days ago, in short-lived sprinkles of pure white that disappeared as quickly as it came, and brought with it an almost comforting chill. The lake shone under the pale moonlight, blue and yellow and glassy, the perfect foreground with a perfect background of the picturesque Welton woods. The woods are lovely, dark, and deep, Todd thinks, taking in the majestic view. 

And yet, none of it felt comparable to the sight of Neil beside him, his eyes reflecting the twinkling stars. They ended up near the dock, which Todd secretly hopes would become their thing. Neil looked so free, a relaxed expression adorning his fine features, a stark contrast to the pain from a few minutes ago. It fills Todd with a syrupy warmth, even though a small part cannot reconcile with there being pain in Neil's life in the first place. That feels wrong, like an animal being wounded. He wants Neil to be happy, no matter where he is.

They end up on their backs, staring up at the sky, wide-eyed like little children, simply drinking in the vastness of the universe, the insignificance of their existence. Or well, Neil is, and Todd is drinking in the sight of Neil like a man dying of thirst. He looks beautiful like this, lit by the pale night, a slight smile, the moonshine highlighting all the right planes of his face, like nature itself knows how to best portray Neil's features. Maybe, that's also why his lips look so inviting. It's unbecoming, but painfully honest. 

“Are you happy, Neil?” Todd isn't sure where he got the courage to ask such a question, but at that moment, he feels so little of his usual hesitation that his brain doesn't stop his mouth before it's too late. 

Neil turns towards him, eyebrows raised. “Why ever would I not be?”

“Neil.”

“Todd?”

“Neil.” In for a penny, in for a pound. 

“I-” Neil begins, but falters. His expression deflates, it's nothing major—a slight downturn of his lips, some of the light in his eyes flicker out—but Todd can tell. Suddenly, he feels terrible for even bringing it up. The whole point was to get Neil to cheer up, and yet, here he was, ruining the very thing he brought them out for. He wishes he could take back the past two minutes. Neil begins again, “I- I don't- well, not always. But I want to be.” 

He sounds so sincere, and again, Todd finds himself reaching out again. He knows he fucked up by asking the question, but if Neil lets him, he will be there, for whatever Neil wants from him. His hands find Neil's lying between them. He wants to apologise but even that feels inadequate. Neil deserves better.

“You will be. Even if you aren't right now, you will be. It's the least of what you deserve.”

“I'm happy now,” Neil says quietly, turning his hand to intertwine their fingers together and squeezes, a small smile playing upon his pretty lips, “I'm happy with you, Todd.” Todd's heart stutters. Maybe he didn't completely fuck everything it up, after all. 

“Oh.” 

A comfortable silence settles over them.

“God, the stars are so pretty tonight. I've always liked them,” Neil says suddenly, pressing their already close shoulders together. 

“Like calls to like,” Todd says, once again, before he can think too much about the words. Truthfully, Todd has never cared much for stars, but for Neil, he could make an exception. 

“Oh, please, you're biased,” he says, but he's laughing and that's the only thing that matters to Todd, “Anyway, do you know any constellations? I've always wanted to learn about them, but of course, that's unnecessary, you know?”

Todd has never in his life been more grateful for the impersonal books he'd gotten as a child, since he'd learned about the constellations he tells Neil about from them. He points out Orion, and Cassiopeia, and Andromeda and tells Neil as much about the myths behind them as he can remember. He doesn't feel Neil's gaze leave him for longer than a few seconds each time he points out something new. It's intoxicating as much as it's terrifying.

Eventually, he notices Neil is on the verge of crossing over to dreamland and he, too, returns to his senses enough to know it was time to go back. He turns to Neil to find him staring back with a peaceful kind of tiredness, and it feels almost sinful to disturb it. But sacrifices have to be made, because no matter how warm he felt next to Neil and how liberating it felt to be away from prying eyes, with only the cottony clouds to blanket their being, it was still not in their best interests to stay out any longer. He forces himself to sit up, tugging Neil along as he did so. 

“Sorry, we've gotta go. It's late,” he says, as much as he loathes to admit it.

“I know. Let's go.” Neil doesn't let go of Todd's hand as he pulls them up and 

They walk back, hands still intertwined, and Todd thinks maybe he did actually do something deserving of someone like Neil to hold his hand and smile at him and share his life with him. It makes the butterflies flit against his ribs, and he can't even be mad. Maybe this will be the closest he gets to Neil and he can live with that. He's lived with a lot less, and frankly, he barely deserves this anyway. It's really not like he can ask for more. He wants to, god, he hasn't wanted to ask for anything more, but asking and losing what he already has? No, that was simply unthinkable. He couldn't take losing this, no matter what else he wanted. 

“You have a really nice voice, you know? It's very warm and calming,” Neil suddenly breaks the silence.

“What?”

“Yeah! When you were telling me about the stars, your voice was really nice. I wanted to keep listening,” he says casually, unaware of the butterflies inside Todd trying to make their way out of his throat and swarm him. 

“Really?”

“Of course! You could talk about just about anything and I'd listen. I really like it when you talk, just so you know.”

“I– um. Thank you?” 

Neil simply squeezes his hand in response, and smiles one of his soft smiles at him again. Todd feels chest tighten, the butterflies still. God, he was smitten. He isn't sure how much longer he can content himself with just being Neil's classmate, roommate, best friend any longer if he keeps saying things like this and acting like this any longer. The thought of what would happen if Neil truly learned his feelings manages to sober him, bring him down from whatever high he'd attained that night. Just a minute ago, he was happy as can be, their hands swinging to Neil's rhythm, and now, his chest aches. It hurts, knowing Neil only sees him as a friend, and knowing that it should be enough, more than enough, and still, still, wanting more. He feels like the worst person in the world, sometimes. Neil deserves only the best of the best, and here he is, still wanting more, wanting more for himself. How utterly selfish, how completely undeserving. It wasn't even like Neil was like him, and he didn't even know what Todd was like. Sure, he might be alright with Todd being queer, but having Todd be in love with him? No, Todd couldn't subject him to that, no matter how hard it tears at his throat, and fills his lungs. 

They reach their room without incident, and only when they have to remove their coats does Neil finally let go of Todd's hand. He misses the warmth immediately, knowing he shouldn't. The knowledge doesn't make it any warmer. Neil sits down at the edge of his bed, inviting Todd to join him. Slightly confused, Todd joins him. He'd figured they would just go to bed, but Neil had different plans, it seems. 

“Thank you,” he says, not meeting Todd's eyes.

“What for?”

“For this. For today. For, you know, everything,” he elaborates, still resolutely looking at Todd's empty bed. 

“Oh, no. You don't need to thank me, not for this.” 

“No, Todd, this- this means a lot to me, okay? You're just- you're so good to me. And everyone else—no, don't even try to deny it—you're just so good, Todd, and I need you to understand that. I think you're so amazing—everything you write, and everything you do, and everything you are.”

Todd can't breathe.

“It's just. Sometimes, or most, if not all of the time, you see me. Not just who I seem to be, but who I am. And it scares me, Todd. But, fucking hell, I want it so bad,” Neil's fully looking at him now, face flushed, not just from the cold, eyes wide and vulnerable and begging, and Todd is the one who feels seen. Something in him breaks, Todd thinks. He doesn't know if it's good, or bad, if it's beautiful, or ugly, but he can hardly bring himself to care. Not when Neil is looking at him like that, and for one moment, Todd lets himself hope. Maybe his feelings aren't completely doomed. It feels terrifying. 

“It's stupid—” 

“Neil.” His mouth feels dry. 

“And people will say it's wrong but I want you—”

“Neil,” he interrupts, before he can think and stop himself, “Can I kiss you?” There, he'd said it—his most terrible, tantalizing wish. Neil looks at him, dumbfounded, and Todd suddenly feels like he fucked up irrevocably, but slowly, he nods, with not quite a smile, but so, so much want. He meets Todd halfway. It could hardly be described as a good kiss, but goddamn if Todd didn't feel like he reached heaven when their lips touched. They don't even move much, just a quick press of the lips. They're not touching anywhere else, but it still feels like the best thing he's experienced. At some point, he closed his eyes, afraid that if he opened them, it would all have been a perfectly cruel dream, the kind his brain and heart are perfectly capable of conjuring up. 

It was Neil who pulled away first, but not completely. He rests his forehead against Todd's, bringing up a hand to softly caress Todd's cheek. If he had died right then, he would've died happy, Todd thinks. 

“I'm not dreaming,” is the first thing Todd says after opening his eyes. 

“No, you're not. I'm not either,” Neil smiles at him, all soft, and fuck, Todd is so incredibly in love. 

Todd leans in again, hungry for more now that he's had his first taste, firmer this time, hand coming to curl around the back of Neil's neck. It's still clumsy, and their noses are in the way, and Todd has no idea what to do, but Neil brings his hands down to hold the front of Todd’s shirt as he moves his face, searching for a better angle. He tries moving his lips around Neil's and he makes a pleased sound against his mouth. Todd can feel Neil's warm breath against his own. His insides feel molten. Where Neil touches him feels caustic, it burns, and Todd cannot get enough. His hands curl tighter around Neil's neck, and for that, Neil kisses him harder and pulls him closer. 

Truthfully, he'd imagined this, maybe too much, under the covers, where no one could get him. Because all his life, even if Todd had never let himself get something, the least he could do was let himself want. He's half sure that if they burned his body, there wouldn't be any ash from his bones, only sappy, viscous want. And god, he's wanted this—wanted Neil—so terribly much it sometimes felt like it would eat him alive, and by then, he'd fully let it. But this? God, this was somehow better than anything he could've imagined. He had certainly never imagined Neil's hungry hands wandering, grabbing, pressing against him, while still keeping him unimaginably close. He certainly never imagined just how receptive Neil would be to his touch, how soft his hair would be when he lightly grasped at it, just how pretty the sounds he made against his mouth would be as they settled into a cadence, a lilt, a rhythm. 

Finally, they both pull away, breathless and utterly overwhelmed. Todd takes his time savoring the sight of Neil like this—lips pink and swollen, hair mussed, slightly out of breath, dazed, and oh so beautiful—all because of him. It makes him shiver with something that knots itself in his stomach. Neil can barely meet Todd's eyes before tipping his head forward and settling it in the crook of Todd's neck, hands still holding Todd’s sides. Who needed heaven when he had this? 

“Fuck,” Neil's voice comes out muffled. Todd agrees. He holds Neil's shoulders just a little tighter, not trusting himself to speak. He would've most definitely said something incredibly embarrassing like you have no idea how long I've wanted this, you're my first kiss, you're so perfect, I love you, I love you, I love you. He settles with humming his agreement.

“We should talk about this,” Neil says after a few moments, still muffled. 

“Of course. Tomorrow, though. You need to sleep,” Todd says, as he gets up to go back to his bed, but Neil grabs his wrist, holding him back just a little. 

“Can you stay?” Neil asks, eyes wide through his long lashes. There was no way Todd could say no to that. It's not like he wanted to go back anyway, but somehow, asking to stay was a bit much, especially after everything that had happened. He stays. He doesn't think he could've done anything else.

The morning comes too quickly, and whisks them into the day against their will. They don't get enough time to even look at each other properly, much less talk, and it makes Todd unnecessarily anxious. He knows what they did last night, and Neil certainly hadn't seemed opposed to Todd's feelings, he reciprocated enthusiastically, even. And still, he couldn't help the pangs of doubt that haunted him. It could've just been Neil letting off some steam—they were far too busy to go out to meet girls and Todd was right there—it would be very convenient, certainly. But then, he'd asked Todd to sleep next to him, so that had to mean something, right? And of course, there's everything he'd said before that. Friends don't say things like that to each other, right? It's not like Todd would know much about that. He couldn't really concentrate in any of his classes, too caught up in staring at Neil whenever possible, or getting too lost in his own head. His brain couldn't pick between wildly hopeful that Neil feels the same way, and crushed at the prospect that Neil could still see him as just a friend. 

Neil, possibly for the first time, did not help quell his anxiety. He acted just like he did everyday. If there had been more staring, or more friendly touching, or more soft, secret smiles, well, coincidences happen. Todd was all but pulling his hair out at the roots by the time they finally made it back to their room for the night. 

“Todd, are you alright?” is the first thing Neil asks him as he settles into his bed, pulling Todd next to him. 

“I– yesterday. Do you– do you like me?” is all he can manage in lieu of a reply. 

“Oh, Todd,” he says, immediately cupping Todd's face with such careful hands that Todd feels like he might shatter because of it. He makes sure Todd is looking at him before continuing, “Yes, I like you. I like you. I kissed you last night because I wanted to. And I want to keep doing it, as long as you'll let me. And I meant everything I said last night. I think you're the most incredible, wonderful person I've met. I really like you, Todd, okay? I like you.” 

“I- me too. I like you, too. Oh my god,” Todd feels far too exposed, and somehow, throwing himself at Neil helps. 

“You know, I don't think anyone has put this much effort into being my friend,” Todd finally admits after a few moments. “I mean, I don't blame them, but you're unlike anyone I've ever met. You're just so- you unravel me, Neil. And you see me too, you know? Most people hardly notice me, much less see me, but not you. And like you said, it's fucking terrifying knowing you see me, and understand me, and you still wait for me. I don't know what I did to deserve you. So, you know, I like you, too. I really like you. And yes, I want to keep kissing you as well.”  

When Todd finally looks back up, he sees that Neil is smiling, a broad and carefree grin that Todd wants to keep there forever. Before he knows it, Neil is kissing his cheek, nose, forehead, other cheek, chin and just about anywhere he can reach. Everything about it feels like it might just be the best thing in the world. 

“Wait,” Todd asks the moment Neil pulls away, “Does this mean we're, you know, together? Or dating? Or—”

“I suppose so,” Neil says, laughing a little, “We can be whatever we want. Do you want to be my boyfriend?” 

“Anything as long as I'm yours. I mean– yeah, I'll be your boyfriend,” and it feels odd on his tongue, the mortifying honesty of the statement. He hadn't even realised how much he'd meant it until he'd said it out loud. 

“You're going to be the death of me, Todd Anderson,” Neil jokes, before resuming, presumably, his mission to kiss every inch of Todd's face. Before he knows it, Todd is grabbing Neil's face and bringing their lips together. Neil makes a pleased sort of hum at that. He's more insistent this time, kissing him deeper, hands coming to settle on Neil's waist almost instinctively. It feels almost feverish, and this time, Todd can't resist lightly tugging at Neil’s bottom lip with his teeth, and the surprised gasp he gets is enough to know he's doing something right. He then moves on to press small, open-mouthed kisses starting from Neil's jaw, slowly making his way down to the base of his neck, where he sucks lightly at the smooth, freckled skin there. He can feel Neil's quiet but sharp intakes of breath and revels in the sensation.
 
“Fuck, Todd,” and the way he says Todd’s name, that particular inflection, etches itself into the crevices of his brain. Suddenly, Neil abandons grasping the tiny hairs at his nape to pull out his sweater from their usual tucked in state. Todd immediately misses the contact, but then, Neil is touching him, snaking his hands under the layers Todd wears to keep himself from freezing, and well, Todd certainly doesn't complain about the direction they were heading in. 

That night, when they were finished, breathless and satiated, Neil asks him to stay, again. As if Todd had ever wanted to leave in the first place.

“Neil, are you awake?” Todd asks, after they had settled in for the night, and immediately regrets it, because really, it wasn't even a particularly important question. Neil still says that he is. 

“I- uh, well, I thought that you weren't, you know, queer—”

“But I am,” he says, back still pressed to Todd's chest. It's almost like he can understand what Todd means before Todd can say it. It's both terrifying and exhilarating. 

“—Yes. That. How did you know?”

“Well, my father pulled me aside one day, I think somewhere around a year ago? Anyway, he told me about men who kissed other men and women who kissed other women and how disgusting and unnatural that was and immediately, I found myself wondering why exactly that was. According to my mother, people only kissed when they loved each other. Maybe that's why I've never seen my parents kiss.” Todd didn't know what to say to the admission, so he only curled his hand around Neil's middle tighter. “It's whatever, they've always just been like that. Anyway, I couldn't really figure out what was wrong about loving someone of the same gender. And then, last summer, Charlie told me about how he liked kissing boys and girls and something just clicked, I think.”

“So you like girls and boys?”

“Right now, I only like you,” he chuckles, and it sends warmth coursing through Todd. “But no, I've never been particularly interested in girls. Or many boys, for that matter, but I suppose I've liked boys more than girls, in that way. Thinking back, I think I had a crush on your brother for a while, during my freshman year and he was a senior.”

“No fucking way.”

“Way, unfortunately. You're definitely the better Anderson brother, though. What about you, hm?”

“Oh. Well. I guess I've always known I didn't like girls the way I was, I don't know, supposed to? People would talk about wanting to kiss the actresses in films but I'd always been focused on the men, you know? I think it's just boys for me, as well. Or really, it's just you.” Neil intertwined their fingers together. 

“You're sweet.”

“You were sweet first.” 

“Still. We should sleep. School tomorrow, remember?”

“Shit, sorry. I didn't mean to actually interrupt your sleep.” It hits Todd that unlike him, Neil may very well have been almost asleep and he'd interrupted for such an unnecessary reason.

“Nope. Don't ever be sorry for talking to me. Like I said, you could talk about anything at all and I would listen. You could also wake me up at any time and I would listen, okay?” And god, Todd loves this boy so much it feels barely comprehensible. He buries his face in Neil's back and makes an incoherent sound to which Neil simply laughs, and it twinkles. 

“Sweet dreams, Todd.”

“Wait, so when did you know you liked me?” Neil asks one night, as they're trying to complete class work. He sits up from where he was laying down on his bed and faces Todd, who was working at his desk. It catches him off-guard.

“What?”

“Like, when did you know you liked me as, well, more than a friend?” he elaborates. 

“No, I- I got that. Just, why, all of a sudden?” 

“No reason. I was just curious. I'll tell you when I realised. It was when you said your poem out loud. I was so in awe. And god, I think that was the first time I let myself look at how beautiful you were. And then it hit me, everything I'd felt up until that point was actually me kinda, sorta being in love. I was genuinely speechless which is why I couldn't shower you with as much praise as I wanted.” He says all this so easily, and it still astonished Todd just how much Neil seemed to actually like him. He knows it's slightly stupid and of course, Neil wouldn't even date him if he didn't like him, but still. It had barely been a few days since they had started dating and frankly, he doesn't feel like much about their relationship had changed. Sure, there was a lot more touching, especially in private (who knew they were both incredibly touch-starved and somehow, their stuffy Welton rooms were still perfect enough to give them the necessary privacy?), but the basis of their relationship stayed the same. It was, for all intents and purposes, perfect, because to Todd, Neil was perfect. 

“Oh my god. I genuinely wanted to bury myself alive after that shitshow, if I'm being perfectly honest—”

“But you were so good!”

“—Anyway. When did I first fall for you?” Under any other circumstance, he would be wildly embarrassed to talk about himself but with Neil, it didn't really feel like it was possible to be embarrassed. “Do you remember when you came in saying you were gonna audition for A Midsummer Night's Dream? And then, well, we kinda disagreed, and then you asked me if I was coming to the meeting that night. You told me to be stirred up and whatnot, and I told you I wasn't like you, and that it was my business and I could take care of myself. But of course, you are you, and unlike every other person I've meet and you said, “No,” and I was like what do you mean, and you kinda just smiled at me and said, “No,” again, and that's when I knew I was well and truly fucked.” It was surprisingly easy to recount the events of that day, because even though Todd would consider it their first, and thankfully, only real “fight”, they had made up quickly enough. And now, he thinks it might just be one of his favorite days. 

“Oh my god,” Neil groans, “I still feel terrible about snapping at you like that. I saw your face fall the moment I said it and god I wanted to shoot—”

“Please, don't. And honestly, I kind of knew that you were trouble ever since the day I met you.”

“Excuse me!” Neil gasps in mock offense, “I am the least troublesome person you can find in this hellhole, thank you very much.”

“You say as if you didn't single-handedly revive a secret Society where we sneak out of school grounds in the middle of the night to read poetry out in the woods, breaking god knows how many school rules.”

“It's educational. We're learning things! Poetry, beauty, romance, love!” he says exaggerating his words with elaborate hand gestures, and holy shit, Todd is so fucking smitten.

“Okay, okay, whatever you say, darling,” he says, before he can stop himself because it's like being around Neil just shuts off his brain-to-mouth filter. However, Neil lights up at this term of endearment and Todd can't even bring himself to be too embarrassed by it.

“What did you call me?”

“Darling,” he says again, despite the obvious blush rising to his face. 

“Don't stop calling me that,” Neil asks of him.

“Anything for you, my darling,” Todd teases, and Neil buries his face in his hands. 

“Holy shit, I'm not strong enough when you're like this,” he says, voice muffled. 

“Like what, exactly?” Todd asks, smirking, but he thinks he understands what Neil means. It's nice being like this. 

“You know what I mean.”

“Okay. You should go back to your chemistry.” 

“Ugh, don't remind me. You, go back to your stupid Latin."

They don't really talk about it, but there's almost an unspoken agreement that they keep the new changes in their relationship a secret. And really, it's not as hard as Todd had expected. Sure, he can't hold Neil’s hand as much as he wants to, or hug him as much as he wants to, but really, it only applies when they're in public. In the privacy of their room, they're, more often than not, touching each other in some way, and truthfully, Todd wouldn't have it any other way. Very soon into their relationship, Todd realises how much he enjoys, no, craves, touches from Neil, whether it be holding him while they sleep, or laying his head on Neil's lap as he reads to Todd, or simply sitting with their sides pressed against each other. And, of course, the kissing is excellent too. It fills Todd with inordinate comfort, and relief too, when Neil reciprocates, because it reminds him that he isn't the only one completely caught in this feeling—the goosebumps, the rush of blood, the soaring of the butterflies—Neil wants this too, just as badly as Todd. It's almost addicting, the realisation.  There's something thrilling, this “secret” of theirs, but there's also something comforting about this thing that only the two of them share. 

But of course, Charlie has other plans. 

“Todd!” Charlie catches him in a hallway, a few days after he kisses Neil. “You look happy these days. Anything good happen?” He asks it so casually that Todd can almost forget the implications. 

“Oh, do I?” He feels exposed. “I guess things have been well…”

“Oh?” Charlie quirks his eyebrows (he cannot for the life of him raise only one of his eyebrows, much to his disdain), “Pray tell, do you mean what I think you mean?”

“Hmm,” Todd pretends to think. “I'm not sure. Maybe,” and now, it feels easier to joke around with Charlie like this.

“I'm guessing it has something to do with Neil?”

“Sure it does.”

“Let's fucking go, Anderson? Holy shit, I'm happy for you guys,” he says, thumping Todd on the back. Todd knows he means it. It feels so natural, this friendship they share, and Todd is incredibly grateful to have Charlie on his side, but he also isn't sure how he managed to live so long without this. 

“Me too,” and Todd doesn't have to force the smile that he has on his face. “You better pull your shit together with Cameron, by the way.”

“God, please, I would rather die.”

“No, you won't. I won't let you.”

“Ugh, fine, mother.”

The frequency of Neil's rehearsals increase as the opening night gets closer, and Todd finds himself being Neil's scene partner when he's practising. It's wonderful. They take to the docks when they practice, and Todd finds himself laughing louder than he thought was possible for him. 

“God, I love this!” Neil tells him once, breaking character, even though they were in the middle of a scene.

“What? This scene?”

“No, acting! Acting's gotta be one of the most wonderful things in the world! I mean, think about it, most people, if they're lucky, get to live half an exciting life. But if I get the parts, I could live a dozen great lives! To be, or not to be, that is the question! Ahh!” Neil excitedly jumps, brandishing a stick he'd picked up on the ground at a hopelessly fond Todd. “For the first time in my life, I feel completely alive!” He says, and gets Todd to join in on their impromptu stick-sword fight, as he coaxes Todd to deliver his lines with more passion. He even invites Todd to rehearsals, but of course, Todd declines. As much as watching Neil practice seems tempting, the thought of being around so many other people he doesn't know is simply too much.

They run to the dock, and Todd begins his lines again. “Follow me to plainer ground. Yea art thou there.” 

“What?”

“Yea art thou there?”

“Put more into it!” Neil tells him. 

“Yea art thou there!” Todd spins as he delivers his line. And after that, he really does find himself putting more into all of his lines as they stick fight and practice and scream like they're the only occupants of the world. It's wonderfully freeing.

Todd thinks he understands why Neil loves this so much. Maybe he couldn't ever see himself on stage, under hundreds of gazes, but still, he can see why Neil would love this. Maybe, his perspective was also slightly biased, but it really did make him happy, how at peace Neil seemed when he donned the skin of a character. 

Despite not having much time to simply enjoy each other's company without having something or the other to do, they made do with what they did have. Todd helped Neil with his lines, and Neil helped Todd with school work when he asked for it. They kissed before bed each night, some days more innocent than others. 

Sometimes, Neil would come back, from rehearsal, quiet. They didn't talk about it, but Neil would ask Todd to read to him. I'm tired, Neil would tell him, like I've used up all my energy to be Puck and don't have any left to be Neil Perry. He was sorry about it—there was no reason for that, Todd knew. It's alright, Todd would tell him, he was still Neil, whether he had the energy for it or not. He loved him just as much either way, Todd couldn't bring himself to say. As unfit as he felt for that role, he read to him anyway, since Neil asked. He would flip to a random page from 500 Centuries of Verse, or whatever Shakespeare he had borrowed from Mr. Keating that week. Neil would lean against Todd as he gently carded his fingers to his hair, quietly filling the room with his voice.

It's good. It works for them. 

“Have you written anything new?” Neil asks him once, very quietly. It was another quiet day, and he had his head on Todd's lap, eyes closed. 

“What?”

“Any new poems,” Neil clarifies. “Have you written anything lately?”

And, well. Todd has. Actually, he'd written it even before they had gotten together, in a fit of something like desperation. He couldn't even bring himself to throw it out afterward, because it was unquestionably, undeniably about Neil. 

“Uhm. Not quite.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I wrote something weeks ago. Nothing new, particularly?”

“Can you read it to me? Please?” Neil looks at him through his lashes, eyes wide, pleading. 

“Oh,” Todd feels his face heat up. He wanted to refuse, he really did, but there was also a part of him that questioned what he would gain if he didn't read it. Sure, he may save himself some bit of embarrassment, but he would be denying Neil something he'd brought himself to ask for, and it wasn't like Todd had let Neil read his works on his own. So he agreed to, in the end, even though it was really quite mortifying. It wasn't his best work, and still, Neil is asking for it. “You have to promise not to laugh. I wrote it at a very vulnerable period of my life,” Todd says very seriously. 

“Cross my heart, and hope to die.”

Todd picks up the notebook with the poem. He always kept it close to himself, afraid of anyone unwanted accidentally opening it. It has served him well, all this while, as no one had even come close to the notebook. 

“Well, then,” he begins, as Neil closes his eyes once more. 

“You shine, shine so bright
I fear you might blind me
Yet, as we lay awake at night,
I fear you burn—like a star
Illuminating our paths, at the cost of you.

An unreachable beacon of light, 
I always find myself reaching for you.
Yet, like the moon and the sun, 
I can but reflect your warmth, just-so.
I wish to be your Icarus, love,
If then at least could I be close to you, 
For just a moment, my wings would hold, 
As I fall, fall, fall from make believe grace
Into your charm, in love, and into your arms. 

I do live a dream—every morning
To wake up to your sunny smile, 
To bid you your last good night, 
And you look at me, so lovely, so lovingly. 

Were I a better man, I would not be 
So enamoured with you, not like this.
Alas, fate is cruel—someone like me, 
However could I not love your coffee eyes, 
Your candy smile, and all the love you realise?
I foolishly (selfishly) desire that which I shouldn't.

You are like the flame that keeps us right
And like a willing moth, I gravitate to you.
You, my dearest, shine, shine so bright, 
Like a star—but nothing, nothing is worth
Your supernova. I am not a better man.
I can only pray upon my star—that if
I fall, fall, fall into your arms—you catch me.”

Todd thinks his voice catches a few times as he reads, but that doesn't stop him. Once he'd started, it felt wrong to stop. Neil was quiet for a long while after he was done.

“Is– is it about—” Neil begins.

“Yes. It's always been about you.”

“I- uh, I think I might cry,” Neil says, eyes still closed and smiling, just a little.

“Please, don't,” Todd says quickly. 

“I know, I know. I think I'll always catch you. I just- god, you're so fucking wonderful, Todd,” he says, bringing up one hand to cup Todd's cheek. 

Todd's heart still flutters at Neil's words, and he finds it so hard to not completely fall apart under Neil's presence. Sometimes, it feels like Neil has to accept at least some of Todd's love, because otherwise, he doesn't think he'll be able to carry so much of it by himself. 

“You're not too bad yourself, darling.”

The night before the opening night of the play, Todd comes back to his room from dinner to find Neil sitting in his chair with his head buried in his hands. 

“Neil?” Todd closes the door behind him before immediately reaching Neil's side. “Neil, darling, what's wrong?” He feels suddenly icy, Neil had been absent at dinner and here he was, looking somehow devastated. He gently pries Neil's hands from his face and takes in the tears on his cheeks. 

“He found out. He wants me to quit,” is all Neil chokes out in response, not elaborating any further. Todd feels the ice swallow him further. 

“But tomorrow's the opening night…”

“Like I didn't tell him just that,” he laughs sourly. “The world can end tomorrow for all he cares, I am through with that play. His words, not mine. I met Keating afterwards. He told me to simply talk to my father. How fucking easy would that be? Like hell that would actually work,” he wipes a futile hand over his face, trying so hard to keep it together. 

Todd has this horrible feeling clawing its way up his chest and he can only let Neil kiss him, desperate and defeated, but trying so, so hard to keep it together. Still, it doesn't feel right, and he gently eases them off so he could hold Neil close, neither of them speaking. Eventually, they make it to bed, Neil's back pressed to Todd's chest, and even that wasn't enough to quell the unease pooling just under the surface.

“Are you still gonna do it tomorrow?” Todd whispers into the darkness that surrounds them. He knows Neil is still awake, his hands tracing meaningless patterns on Todd's forearms that curled protectively over his waist. 

“Of course I am. It's not like he's gonna visit anyway.”

“Hmm,” Todd hums. “You'll be great. I know you will.” And Todd does, he has been helping Neil practice so much he practically knows all his lines. He can see how Neil's eyes brighten every time he slips into Puck’s character, like a well-worn jacket, like he was always meant to. He can feel Neil's infectious energy as he brings the Bard’s words to life, like they had specially been written for him. Maybe they were. Neil deserved the prettiest words. He only hoped that one day he would be able to capture even the smallest fraction of Neil's person. Maybe, that would never be possible, that would be like trying to touch the clouds—only to be admired from afar, never captured. Maybe, that's okay, Todd is closer than most anyway, and that's enough. 

“You're biased,” Neil laughs.

“Excuse me, I can tell good acting when I see it!”

“Sure, darling, whatever you say.”

“You're gonna be good, you're gonna be really good and I will rub it in your face after the show tomorrow.”

Neil laughs again, and it feels like something just righted itself. They don't know what his father will do tomorrow, but for now, lying in bed, wrapped in each other's warmth feels like enough to make them forget about it, for just a little, anyway. Todd eventually falls asleep and is only woken up by the feeling of Neil’s soft lips against his forehead. 

“Good morning, sunshine,” Neil smiles at him and that alone makes Todd feel more awake than a shower and breakfast.

“Hello, darling. Big day?” he asks, still not fully awake. Neil nods excitedly, pulling them up to get ready for classes.

Todd spends the whole day not paying any attention in class and none of the Poets are paying attention either. They spend the day in a sort of happy haze as they get ready before getting ready to be the most attentive audience at Henley Hall. Keating had happily offered to drive them. Chris arrives and Knox is off with her, possibly getting rejected for the nth time. Todd doesn't really know, and just for now, doesn't fully care. Not that he could care about much else, not with Neil's stage debut just an hour away. 

The moment Neil walks on stage, the moment that spotlight illuminates his beautiful face, Todd knows that this was what he was meant to do. He occupied the stage with such an easy confidence, just like he did around his friends, like the stage too was a friend he'd known all his life. He was phenomenal as Puck, and though Todd had never watched a proper Shakespeare play, and this was only a small school production, he thinks this might be his favorite enactment of the famous work. Then again, anything Neil was in would be his favorite.

Todd watched, enthralled, as Puck gave his final monologue. After Neil had said his last line, the Poets had been the ones to cheer the loudest, clapping and yawping, possibly to the dismay of the others, but it didn't matter. They immediately tried to go out to the gates to try and meet Neil when Todd saw the worst sight of his life. Mr. Perry stood at the doors, an imposing figure cutting a steak contrast against the light-hearted crowd at the Hall. Todd felt his throat close up. 

“I can't, guys. I can't.”

Neil had hardly looked at anyone as he was dragged away by his father. Maybe he tried to smile apologetically, but it looked like something had been stolen from him, and he knew for a fact he would never be able to get it back. 

Todd couldn't push down the ugly feeling that settled over him. He couldn't go after Neil. The thought only made the ugly feeling sicker. He tried to reach out, and felt Neil squeeze his fingers, but he still couldn't get Neil to look at him. 

“Neil! Neil, you were incredible,” he manages to get out, but Neil is already looking at his father. He knows Neil didn't hear him. He turns to Mr. Keating, desperately trying to convey something, which even he isn't sure what it is. His teacher looks about as lost as he feels, so there that goes. Not even he had anything helpful to add, then. His friends also looked on with fear and concern as Neil was forcibly pulled away.

The rest of the night is all a blur. He's dropped back off at Welton, the other poets are still riding the high of adrenaline, and Knox arrives much later than the rest. They all had been concerned, yes, but on some level, it felt perfunctory. They didn't know. They didn't understand how Neil's empty expression was, in itself, a call for help. He tried, he tried telling himself he was overreacting, Neil was going to be perfectly fine, everything was going to turn out okay. Only Charlie had looked at him with the same fear he felt before squeezing his shoulder as good night, before heading to his own dorm. But nothing soothed the coiling and uncoiling of the indescribable pit of dread he felt in his stomach. 

He couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned, and tossed and turned, and nothing helped. He even moved to Neil’s bed but it didn't help. Neil had slept on his bed anyway, most nights. Fuck, he was crying. Something awful welled up in his chest and he could do nothing but let it all out. It was quiet—quiet heaving, quiet shaking, quiet sobbing. He couldn't risk being loud. He thought back to the play again, trying to pinpoint when Neil had noticed his father, if he had at all, during the play. He couldn't—Neil was that good. That is the worst part, he thinks. That Neil—his Neil, brave, beautiful, wonderful Neil—was so, so good, and his good for nothing, piece of shit father still didn't care.

His fear of what was to happen to Neil was consumed by a sudden anger. Anger at Mr. Perry, for not letting Neil do something he clearly enjoyed and was incredible at, anger at Welton, for forcing these boys to conform to these incomprehensibly stupid, outdated traditions, anger at Mr. Keating for telling Neil to simply ‘talk to your father, he will understand’, anger at the world, for creating such a hostile environment for boys like Neil, and himself, and Charlie—he feels so much anger that he hadn't even realised was possible to feel. It simmers under his skin, threatening to ooze out of him. The tears still, still wouldn't stop streaming down his cheeks as he desperately tried wiping them. He covers his face with Neil's blanket, as if it would protect him from the world. 

He falls asleep to the sound of his own harsh breathing, punctuated only by the occasional wind trying desperately to blow through the window. Thankfully, his sleep is dreamless, but quite light. He wakes at the break of dawn, as the first light feebly makes itself known through their window. 

Neil hadn't come back at night then, and he takes in the oppressive emptiness of the room without Neil. Suddenly, the beauty of dawn makes him sick. The world didn't deserve to be so beautiful without Neil's beauty to compare it to. He knows now that he's overreacting but he cannot help it. Neil's expression from last night still haunts him, he had looked so lost. Todd doesn't know what he would do without Neil there, a steadying presence next to him, as he tried to find ways to exist that weren't exhausting. No, he simply cannot comprehend a world without Neil. It was like imagining a world without the sun or the stars.

He remembers Neil telling them, a few days ago, in some context of a joke, about how his father had a gun in his study. It feels ominously significant, like a crucial piece of foreshadowing Todd had been too blind to notice. He tries to push down the fresh bile that rises to his throat.

He spends the day not doing much of anything, barely paying attention to his classes, or his friends. He even ignores most of what Mr. Keating is saying, something highly unusual for him. But understandably, Mr. Keating doesn't bother him much that day. He stops him after class to ask if he is okay.

“I'm terrified, Captain. I just- I just can't imagine what Neil is going through. I thought he spoke to his father, made him understand. He was good, Captain, he was so good,” Todd says. As angry as he had felt last night, he knows none of this is Mr. Keating's fault. Hell, Neil wouldn't have been as happy as he had been for the past few weeks had it not been for their English teacher. He could never fault Mr. Keating for that. He simply looks at Todd with so much sadness in his eyes, and Todd understands that yes, he is on their side, no matter what. He shakes his head, before giving Todd a smile that doesn't reach his eyes and assurances that he himself does not believe, before telling Todd they had to be at lunch. 

He does much of nothing for the rest of the day. He cannot concentrate on any of the assigned work, he cannot write anything new, and he can hardly be around people. Their friends also grew concerned as Neil hadn't returned that day but tried to mask it with jokes and tomfoolery. No one was in the mood for a Society meeting without Neil. They could just begin again after Neil returned, because surely, he would, right? 

(He had to.)

The night after the opening night, Todd goes to bed alone. He wakes up alone. He doesn't go to classes alone, the Poets make sure of that. Still, he can hardly just let himself be. There is nothing he can do and he tries to distract himself by taking notes for both Neil and himself, because Neil was coming back, and surely would want to catch up. He only manages to take short, messy notes. He spends his evening transcribing them into proper, comprehensible notes—the kind Neil takes. 

That night too, Todd goes to bed alone. He tries not to think about the terrible things that could happen to Neil, the whispered conversations about disappearing, about guns, and snow, and lakes. He tries not to think of anything at all.

After what feels like eternity, Neil returns for dinner on the third night. Todd feels his breath knocked out of him in the best way possible, as he spots Neil (his Neil, brave, beautiful, wonderful Neil), walking towards their table with the same smile he gave Todd when he told him they would be roommates. Todd feels an earth-shattering relief at seeing the face of the boy he loves once more. It's alright, he thinks giddily, Neil is alright.

“I hope you guys didn't miss me too much,” Neil says, in lieu of a greeting as everyone shouts with equal excitement, Todd included. None of them can keep the smiles off their face as Neil takes his customary seat next to Todd on their table. 

“Holy shit, Perry, we thought you were a goner!” Charlie exclaims.

“I'm not that easy to get rid of,” Neil laughs easily. God, how worried Todd had been that he might never hear that laugh again. Now that Neil was so close, Todd takes a moment to properly look at him. He'd been gone for barely a few days, but he somehow looked different. He still smiled, and laughed, and joked, but there was something slightly off. Underneath it all, he looked hollow, just a little. Like some of the light in his eyes had dimmed. Todd's heart clenched at the thought. But still, he wouldn't say anything now. Just then, Neil looked at him, and suddenly, nothing mattered except for the way he took him in, almost greedy in its intensity. 

“Hi,” Todd manages, with only a little difficulty in breathing. 

“Hello to you too, Todd,” Neil returns with a smile, and discreetly takes Todd's hand from under the table and Todd can hardly care about anything but the way he's holding Neil's hand again. He doesn't pay much attention to the rest of the conversation, laughing along or agreeing when he thinks is appropriate. Neil doesn't let go of his hand until they're done eating. 

The walk back to the dorms was slightly excruciating, because as relieved as Todd is, he was still anxious about what happened that night. He couldn't even hold Neil’s hand in the hallways. Still, he resolves not to ask until they reach the privacy of their room, since Neil doesn't seem particularly interested in divulging the details, brushing off their friends with something about ‘convincing my father with both words and actions’. It sounded rather concerning, and when Todd had looked at him, silently questioning, he had indicated that he would tell Todd later. 

Just as Todd clicks the door shut, and Neil is pulling him into his arms. Todd goes willingly, wrapping his arms around Neil's shoulders as he hugs Todd closer and buries his face in the crook of Todd's neck. They stay like that for a few minutes, and Todd feels so, so goddamned relieved, like someone had finally given him a raft as he was drowning in the middle of the ocean. 

“I missed you,” Todd says into Neil's hair after a few minutes, without any embarrassment or shame because fuck, he had missed Neil. He had been terrified. “What happened? Are you okay?”

Neil slowly pulls away from him, looks at him, so openly, that Todd can do nothing but follow as he drags him to his bed and sits him down. Todd cannot stop the thundering in his chest as Neil crouches down, like he did when he announced he was going to audition for A Midsummer Night's Dream. Only this time, there is none of the excitement and warmth that was present then.

“I– I almost did something, Todd,” Neil begins, taking his hand, not meeting his eyes. “I, uh, you know the gun? The one my dad keeps in his drawer that I've told you about?”

Todd's heart screams at him, his hand instinctively tightens its grip on Neil's. It was like living his worst nightmare as Neil finally looks up at him and suddenly, Todd can't help but think that this is all wrong. Neil shouldn't be looking up at him like that, like he's seeking forgiveness for a sin he never committed, like he's terrified of what Todd might think, might say, as if Todd was ever capable of not giving Neil what he wanted, especially when he asks, begs, even. Todd thinks he should be the one Neil looks down on, as he begs for Neil to stay, thanks Neil for staying, lays his deepest secrets bare for Neil to use as he pleases.  

Todd understands at that moment. The gravity of that situation settles over him, like the blanket of truth, but it doesn't just cover his face this time, it suffocates him. He nods thickly, unsaid understanding passing between them.

“I tried, Todd, I really did. But I couldn't. I couldn't stand up to him,” he makes a noise between a scoff and a laugh, both coated with an upsetting wetness as he tries to hold in his tears. 

“He was going to send me to military school. I couldn't stomach the thought. I just couldn't, Todd,” he says Todd's name like he needs Todd to understand. But he doesn't have to, he wouldn't have to, Todd would understand, and even if he didn't, he wouldn try his damnedest.

“I just– I saw no other choice. And then, as I was– I was holding it, and he– he walked in and my mother was behind him. And for one moment, when he saw me, saw what he had pushed me to, I thought—” his voice hitches, he was properly crying now, and Todd could do nothing but stare, terrified and on the verge of tears himself, “—I thought he cared, just for one moment. He pried it out of my hands, so quietly, so unlike himself that I– I let myself hope, just for that moment,” he laughs now, an ugly sound, one that he should never be pushed to make. 

“But of course, he just cannot keep a good thing going. Immediately after he was sure I couldn't try anything else, he started lecturing at me. What a stupid thing to do, he was only doing this for my own good, I was stupid for thinking anything good could come out of acting, I was to become a good doctor and make sure his efforts didn't go to waste, I was being ungrateful, and just. I couldn't listen anymore. I told him I wouldn't do what he wanted. I stood up to him and I was terrified, Todd. I felt like I was doing something so, so wrong. I mean, he only wants the best for me, right? It was my mother, in the end, who convinced him that his son's life was more important than what extracurricular he chose to do,” he sounded almost bitter, recounting what had happened. Todd felt sick to his stomach. He hated Thomas Perry. He couldn't take it anymore. He joins Neil on the floor and pulls him into his arms. 

“Neil,” he desperately says into his hair, savouring the smell of the cheap vanilla shampoo he was afraid he would never smell again. It is a single whispered word, a confession, a prayer, and it has to be enough for now because he cannot think of anything except Neil, Neil, Neil. He feels Neil's arms claw at his back as he shudders against Todd. “You're okay, darling, you're alright now,” he says and he knows it isn't true, but decides that it will be one day. He will will it into existence if he has to, he will fight God if he has to. 

Neil silently cries into his shoulder as Todd slowly eases them up from the floor. They're both wearing their full uniforms and Todd suddenly feels like it's choking him, choking them, that stupid blazer and that God awful tie, and the shirt and all of it—constricting, confining, restraining them. 

“Let's get you changed, yeah?” Todd says wetly, as he sits Neil down on his bed and gently catches his tears with his thumbs. He hadn't said a word since Todd held him but his crying did wane to a few shaky breaths now and then. 

Todd quickly rids Neil of that goddamn blazer and tie. He picks the first shirt and pants he could find in Neil's drawer. He makes Neil stand up as he carefully unbuttons his shirt, not meeting his eyes as Neil watches, transfixed. They both know this isn't the first time Todd is seeing Neil shirtless, isn't even the first time Todd is touching Neil shirtless and still, it feels like they've never been more vulnerable in their lives. Todd still cannot quantify or even identify all of the emotions he's feeling and he simply tries to concentrate on the beautiful boy in front of him, the brilliant boy who had walked into his life and rewrote everything he lives by with that curly, hopeful handwriting of his. The boy that Todd had almost lost, but still stands before him, real and solid, allowing Todd to look, and touch, and feel, and cherish. Todd thinks Neil is the bravest person he will ever know.

The air carries the low hum of the radiator that seemed to permeate their most intimate moments. Both of them are quiet, even the sounds of their breathing and the fabric seem so tangible, like wisps of smoke that could be bottled up. It feels sacred, somehow, standing there and unveiling each other's best veiled parts in such silence, without judgement. 

“I removed my shirt,” Neil whispers, as if he too is afraid to disturb the powdery silence around them, and brings Todd's hand to rest on his collarbone and holds it in place. Todd looks at his furrowed brows, the still visible tear tracks that run down his regal cheekbones, the muted pain in his devastating eyes he, resolutely, has trained on their joined hands. “I removed my shirt and opened my window and put on Puck's crown. I'm not sure why I did it. I don't know what I was thinking. I don't think I was thinking at all. I just– I don't know, I just wanted to disappear.” His most damning confession, it seems. Once again, Todd feels his breath knocked out from him. 

Neil finally looks up and Todd finds they're both on the verge of tears once again. Todd reaches out and takes Neil's face in his trembling hands, his body reacting faster while his brain lagged behind. 

“Oh, my love. Do you want to die, Neil?” he asks, before he can think better of such crass wording, which still somehow felt the most appropriate. Neil looks at him and Todd can see the desperate despair in his trembling lips and trembling breaths. 

“No,” Neil shakes his head, not vigorous, but defiant nonetheless. “No. I want to live. I want to feel alive. Like I did on stage. Like I do when I'm with you. I want to live.” He squeezes his eyes closed and fresh tears make new patterns against his cheeks. 

“Then let's live, my love. You don't have to do what he says. It's your life, yours, and your father gets absolutely zero say in what you do with it. You will live and you will do it excellently. And I will be there as long as you'll have me.” Todd surprises even himself by the surety of his words, not that he'd doubted the words themselves, he just never believed he would be able to convey them to Neil. 

“I'll always want to have you, Todd, always,” he swiftly assures Todd. “It's just. That night when I noticed my father in the back, I couldn't look at anyone else. I know you, and Captain, and Charlie, and everyone else were there but, it's like the moment I see his disappointment, everything else disappears. Gosh, I feel so fucking terrible about it. He has so much influence over me and fuck him, he doesn't even deserve it.” He laughs that ugly, bitter laugh reserved where his father is concerned. 

Todd pulls their foreheads together. 

“Let's disappear. Together. We don't owe them shit,” he tells Neil, before his brain can come up with a hundred ways that would be a bad idea. They don't owe them shit. The realisation feels like taking his first breath of air after finally breaking the surface of a life where he'd been drowning. That first gasp that's almost painful with how much necessary realization it carries. There is the inevitable need to expel the water from his lungs if he wants to breathe again, no matter how much it feels like the water is itself a part of him. 

Neil looks at him, eyes wide, but so, so hopeful. Todd thinks he might cry all over again. 

“What?”

“Yeah, fuck your dad, my parents, all of them. Fuck them all. You're turning eighteen  soon. We're graduating soon. We won't be bound to them anymore. You can go to a college you actually want, or not go at all. You can act,” Todd says, slightly breathless.

Neil sucks in a deep breath and laughs. Laughs. He places his hands on top of Todd’s.

“Yes, let's disappear. Together.” He smiles at Todd, a proper smile, with wrinkles around his eyes and too much teeth and Todd knows he would do anything at all to make sure this is how Neil smiles, always. 

“I love you,” Todd says, pressing a short kiss to the corner of Neil’s mouth. It was the first time either of them had those three words in that particular order, and Todd never believed himself to volunteer such big declarations, but Neil deserved to know. Loving Neil was the one thing he's felt this sure of, and Neil himself deserves nothing but the best. Maybe Todd would never be the perfect girl to give him the perfect life, but he'll be damned if he won't at least be who Neil needs. Sometimes, he thinks Neil deserves better than him, and sometimes, he knows Neil deserves better than him. But then, Neil himself would disagree, so who was Todd to question that? “I don't think I can fully put into words everything you make me feel, every change you've brought about in me, what you mean to me.” He feels his chest constrict as he clings onto Neil's neck like a lifeline. It hits him right then, just how close he'd come to losing Neil, the boy he never thought he'd even be friends with. The boy he loves, no matter what the world thinks, and the boy who loves him back just the same. 

“Oh, Todd,” Neil breathes into his neck, hugging him impossibly closer. “I love you more than I thought was possible.” 

Neither of them have stopped crying, but it's better now. There's more relief in those tears, now, and more hope. Todd kisses Neil's left cheek, then his right, then his forehead, and chin, and the mole near his lips, and anywhere he can reach. It's desperate, and it feels important that each of these kisses carry the thousands of words Todd feels about Neil that he could possibly never string together coherently. Neil's hands come to rest around Todd's waist and he presses a firm kiss to his lips. Todd can taste the salt lingering in Neil's lips and that might just be the best thing he's tasted—unequivocal proof that Neil stands before him, that he hasn't left, and that maybe, hopefully, will not leave. 

They take their time, getting dressed for bed interrupting slow kisses and soft sighs that feel like coming home, like breathing. That night, Neil doesn't let Todd curl around his back, instead burying his face into the dip of Todd's neck, as if to make a home there. One day, he will know that Todd will always reserve that for him, no matter what. There was not a single other person who would fit as comfortably there, no, not when it was moulded, so perfectly, to Neil's image. 

Tomorrow morning, they will wake up, go to classes, enjoy their time with the Poets, and do not much more than steal glances at each other. Tomorrow, they will return to Hell-ton, they will once again step into the world that despises them, step into the arms of those who love them. But tonight, they could hold each other, protect each other, and love each other, with only the sloping ceilings of their room, and the humming radiator, and the swirling snow as the witnesses to their continued saving of each other. One day—maybe not tomorrow, maybe not even the next month, but one day—they would leave all this behind, and they would not need saving anymore, but they would still be together. They would always be together—the star and the stargazer, the poet and his muse, the moth and its flame, Neil and Todd, Todd and Neil. There was really no other way this story could go.