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Neil was pretty sure this wasn't what Mr. Keating meant by 'Carpe Diem', but that was what ran through his mind as he yanked open the top drawer of his dresser. The only problem was 'Carpe Diem' sounded a bit too fancy for this particular moment.
Seizing the day should be reserved for daring displays of passions; Todd and his poetry, Charlie and his music, Knox and his sketches, Meeks and his mechanics, Pitts and his knitting, whatever Cameron did. Any of them could do the phrase justice. Hell, if Neil were about to try out for another play, he could use that term. However, Neil's current art form was less deserving. 'Screw it' would be a more accurate thought.
He dug through his clothing, lifting pile after pile out of the drawer. He grew frantic as there continued to be a lack of what he was looking for. Finally, Neil let out a grown of frustration. "Where the hell is it?" He muttered, running a hand through his hair. There was only one shirt left in the drawer. He took it out, revealing a small note written in instantly recognizable handwriting: 'Nice try.' Clenching the note in his fist, Neil slammed the drawer shut and stormed out of his room.
When he rapped on the door, Neil was met with a smirking face. Charlie's smile quickly disappeared when he saw Neil. "What's wrong?"
"I know you took them," Neil fumed. "And you had no right to. I want them back." When Charlie still looked confused, he huffed. "I saw the note in my dresser. I know it was you."
Realization dawned on Charlie's face and he shook his head.
"Give them back."
"You know I'm not doing that, Neil."
"Fuck off," he hissed. "It's none of your business."
"I'm your best friend. That makes it my business."
"Please, Char. I need it."
Charlie winced at the pleading tone but hardened his face. "No. No, you don't."
"You- you can't just-"
"I can, I did, and I am."
"Just one more time," Neil promised. "I swear, and then I'm done. I'll stop."
Charlie sighed. "That's what you said last time. You know I can't give you back the razor blades, Neil."
"I need it, I need to. Please, Charlie, I have to cut. I have to-" Neil was silenced by Charlie wrapping his arms around him. Neil clung onto Charlie like a child would to its mother, tears beginning to trail down his face. "Please," he whispered brokenly.
"Shh. It's okay, Neily, it's gonna be okay." Neil sobbed harder as Charlie began to rub his back. "I know, bud. It's alright. Just breathe for me, okay?" After a few minutes, Neil started to calm down, still leaning into his best friend. "You okay?" Charlie asked softly.
"Yeah. I... I think so."
"C'mon. We can watch one of those musicals you like, okay?" When Neil didn't reply, Charlie placed a hand on his shoulder.
Neil's eyes flickered up to meet his. "...Okay."