Work Text:
There are days where no matter how hard you try, you don’t seem to get anything done.
The reason why Neil tried so many things in his life was simple; he desperately wanted to prevent this from happening. He never wanted to run himself into a dead end of this kind. It just felt so upsetting - your head is overflowing with colors and ideas. It almost feels like it could all spill with some harder head movement.
Mr Keating called it “a spark”. But it was more of a forest fire. Scary and unstoppable, and it doesn’t let you forget about itself.
So you sit down and hold on to everything you can to get at least
some of it
out of your system.
There were days when he just felt too tired to walk around the room and use his vocal chords - which is ninety percent of his acting practicing, so that was immediately out of the question.
And so, he tried to put more thought into writing. Todd seemed to enjoy it… as much as you can call throwing tenth paper in a row into the trash can and then asking whatever god was up there to smite him “enjoyment”. So why not use this to let out all the colors?
Sometimes that wasn’t enough, either. Sometimes whatever was sitting in him was too messy, too complicated, too abstract to put into words. Sometimes his writing just felt too quotidian to be able to catch it all.
This net’s holes were too big to catch all the butterflies.
Another time, he caught Pitts drawing while they had classes. Little caricatures of teachers, portraits of their classmates, sometimes something completely fantastical and other-wordly; and all of it was done as if no thought was being put into it. Movements smooth and casual. And yet, somehow full of precision. Every line had a purpose.
He borrowed colored pencils and some knowledge from Pitts, then.
But sometimes this didn’t want to work either.
Sometimes the lines he made were too clumsy and too ugly to contain everything. Sometimes his hands refused to make lines as meaningful as they should be.
Sometimes he just didn’t know what could possibly look like an outlet for all the things he was carrying.
Apparently you can’t contain a tiger in a cage made of paper and pointy sticks.
He tried so many things. He kept trying to feed his brain something new, but sometimes, the brain was a picky toddler who didn’t want what was given to him.
“Have you tried just… not acting on this?” asked Todd one day, his worry skyrocketing as his friend (boyfriend? Lover? Roommate with curious hands and lips?) was going low-key insane.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You told me it’s… well, it’s like forest fire sometimes.”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe instead of trying to bake marshmallows over it, you can. I dunno. Put it out. O-or something like that.”
“Todd. I love your metaphors, but you need to explain.”
“I don’t know I just- I thought that this kind of unfinished, unspecified project you have in your head. Well, it won’t run away. It’ll still be here when you’re ready. A-and!” deep breath, stabilizing. “I think it might be easier than spending all this time torturing yourself.”
Neil looked at him from the floor besides the bed where he was sitting.
“I also- well, I know it might be a good thing sometimes, but I wouldn’t want you to go insane” added Todd. Softly. Quietly. Kneeling in front of him.
“And I know it’s- it’s easier said than done, I know. But, please try. I want to help you- if I can, and if you want me to, I s’pose.”
It was the first time that day when Neil looked him in the eyes,
“I do.”