Chapter Text
The world is gray and black
and white
But I am in color.
It was a simple poem. Not even a poem, really; more of a flowery sentence. Todd almost scratched it out, but then thought better of it. He was drawn in color now.
Todd Anderson was in color because today, a sweaty-toothed madman had stared into Todd's soul from the picture in the front of the classroom as Mr. Keating was ordered out, and the little voice that was Todd had told Todd to stand up for the Truth and slap the guilt off Mr. Keating's face. And today, for the first time in his life, Todd had listened. His resistance in English had lit a fire in Todd's chest. It glowed all the brighter when he saw how it lit the wicks of his classmates--they were in color now, too.
The flames and the hues were a shitty consolation prize for the black and white, though.
Todd Anderson's world was in monochrome because five days ago, Neil Perry had died.
The fact of it was a constant, everlasting ache in Todd's chest. All the Dead Poets saw the world in black and white now, but it was no secret Todd was the most affected of them all. He had been the closest to Neil, with, perhaps, the exception of Charlie, who had been Neil's best friend long before Todd had arrived at Welton. But it was Todd who had to look at a bare mattress where there had once been quilts that smelled of Neil, and empty bookshelves that had been full of Shakespeare and Dickinson and Thoreau, and a wardrobe that had been half full with Neil's clothes. It was Todd who had lived with him, and it was Todd who now had to live without him.
Todd had to get out of this room.
Todd grabbed his coat and barreled through the door. He didn't really know where he was going until he arrived there: the telephone. He stood before it. Who was he going to call? His parents? His friends from his old school? Ha. He hadn't any friends at his old school. Everyone he loved outside his family was either at Welton or dead, and his family couldn't tell him anything he didn't already know.
But Neil's family could.
Todd paged through the student directory on the table beneath the phone until he found the Perry family landline. His hands shook as he dialed the phone. He shoved him in his pockets as it rang.
And rang. And rang. Todd had almost given up when a voice answered on the other line:
"Mrs. Perry. How may I help you?"
"M-Mrs. Perry, my name is Todd Anderson. I'm-I...I go to Welton Academy."
"Oh." Told waited for Mrs. Perry to elaborate. She didn't.
"I'm very sorry for your loss." Nothing. He plowed on.
"I was...I'm...Neil and I were...were very good friends, and I am--we've been...we--Neil's close friends--we've been trying to grieve. And...it's hard, because...we don't really understand what happened. Or--we don't fully understand why it happened."
Mrs. Perry did not reply.
"So...I was wondering if you might be willing to meet. To talk. I understand this must be a very difficult and painful time for your family. It's a painful and difficult time for me too. And, and I think it will be less painful for both of us if we have a clearer understanding of why."
"Mr. Anderson, I appreciate your condolences, but I don't know..."
Todd could feel his old, colorless self trying to drag him down into quiet desperation again. He willed the fire in his belly to burn that instinct away.
Carpe diem.
"Ma'am. I understand. I truly do. You don't want to talk to anyone about Neil right now. Neither do I. Right now, he's curled up behind my breastbone, adding fifty pounds to my heart, and every time I breathe, he squeezes the breath right back out of me. But if I don't talk about him, I-I can pretend he's going to walk right in those doors on his way to Chemistry class, or that he'll come biking up the road on his way back from play practice."
Mrs. Perry's breath caught on the other line.
"But ma'am, I know this: I will never sleep right again if I don't understand why Neil shot himself. I might never sleep right again at all, but I know there's no chance of it if I have to live with the weight of Neil and the weight of wondering on my chest."
There was a long pause. Todd realized that was probably the most he had ever spoken in one go. He realized, too, that at one point in there he had declaimed poetry without even realizing it. The thought hit him like a brick in the face. Color indeed.
"...Can you get here before four-thirty and be gone by seven?"